TRIGGER WARNINGS for this chapter: child sexual abuse, rape attempt
Her eyes stung, glossed over and seemingly ransacked as they tried to sort through the day's work. She was on the last of the slips and the entire world was already simulated into a dream or a mundane night terror. Nothing really seemed real, not even the thick, heavy red lines she knifed across the flimsy sheets before deporting them into the rejected bin as she realized how ludicrous third years were, and hoping that she hadn't been just as asinine.
Dear lord, if I was... please let me never remember, she pleaded internally, an unwilling snort coming out at the end. James looked up at the sudden sound. After an hour of only hearing ink tips scratching against parchment, it had nearly shocked him. His brows scrunched together, watching as the redhead grinned herself drunk, swaying back and forth in her seat as she went to toss another piece of paper, but sent her quill into the bin instead.
He raised his brows and Lily went, with a now bare hand, to write something on the next paper. But her eyes grew wide, blinking and flinching her head back as she stared in utter disbelief at her empty fingers.
James placed his knuckle to his lips, attempting, but failing miserably, to stifle a laugh.
"You, uh," his cheeks lifted up and glowed like two ornaments on Christmas Eve, "in the bin."
Her head swiveled to the left like a seeker finally locating a snitch and her entire body dove over the chair's arm, reaching forward and grunting as she picked up the feathery object. Lily placed it on the table, leaning her forehead down onto its edge as she stared at the floor and tried to find a decent reason for suffering; because it was too late, and everything, at that point, seemed too ridiculous to function properly.
James rubbed his nose, leaning into his chair and onto the side as the key points for their meeting with the Heads of Houses went ignored. His eyes circled around the dark stain on the table, wondering if staring at it long enough would make it suddenly disappear.
"I'm sorry."
Silence. Not even the torch wanted to break it, flaming quietly in the corner as it lit up their tired minds, their fatigued hearts. To James, it felt like a sunburn. To Lily, it seemed as if she had gone 'pst' and the cat responded with a nice, fat 'sod off.'
Yes, that must be it, she mused to herself, for what was reality if not the things she knew. Was it not the life she had experienced up until that point? Because now she felt like a ballerina who had fallen and broken her leg, bedridden for weeks and missing the entire season of the Nutcracker to some lame back-up dancer from Leeds.
Yes, this was most definitely a dream. James Potter was apologizing, her friends thought she rode broomsticks as a hobby, and everyone else began to believe she was a supporter of the Dark Lord's agenda.
She also swore to never laugh ever, ever, ever again.
"Sorry?" she grinned manically, shaking her head. The sound unnerved James. It was not the voice he had grown accustomed to over the years. It wasn't light or full of life, it was threatening like a knock on the window after midnight; like something else was coming that only she knew, something bad— a sick twist on dramatic irony, except it wasn't a play.
And James wondered if he really should take her advice and keep his mouth shut. It seemed nothing he said ever came out sounding right. In his head, they were lines of poetry, but once they turned into air, he could see all the faults within them, wanting nothing more than to take them back and keep them hidden somewhere deep and secret.
She stared at him with eyes turned red from strain; strain of reading, of light, of life.
"For what I said to you. The Quidditch game sort of got to my head, and," he pulled at his tie, finding it as annoying as the restlessness in his right hand that kept craving the touch of his hair, "I shouldn't have attacked you,"
He glanced up at her and wondered how it was possible for his body to ignite with a match made from complete disdain.
Maybe everyone was right— he was a masochist.
"Well, you can take your sorry and shove it where the sun don't shine, Potter."
He couldn't help the smile on his face.
"I expected that," he admitted with a light laugh, finally giving in and letting his hand travel through his fields of jet black wheat.
"You want to know something?"
Even though her voice was ice and his blood was fire, he looked her in the eye, giving her permission to let him melt, and melt, and melt at her feet.
"All my life, I've been kicked and spat on. I've been on the floor, I've had to crawl to achieve the things that come so easily to the rest of you. I walk everyday through these halls, judged, sneered at, and having to prove myself to ALL OF YOU. Then I go home, and you know what? I have to sleep in my bed, eat dinner with my family, and PROVE TO THEM that I don't have the intelligence of an 11 year old, because that's how they treat me." Unlike James, who had installed a new editing system into his brain, Lily's was completely broken and rusting at her feet. Making no sense at all; a lack of understanding of what she really wanted to say. But he listened and didn't dare ask questions, or even breathe, as he put the spotlight on her.
"Everywhere I go, I have to be Lily Evans. So many expectations, everyone always waiting on me. But you know what? I don't want to be her, I want to be someone else." Tears had begun to well in her eyes, her face scrunched up like a prune. "So, I want to fucking know when I get to be someone other than who I am."
His tongue was caught somewhere between the underworld and whatever heaven meant. Nothing right nor wrong could be said, and yet everything that he could think of tasted stale between his teeth.
But Lily didn't want him to reply, all she wanted was to be upset with someone. She wanted to curse them and send them out the window, crack their spines so that they could feel what it felt like to have a hand wrapped around her neck at all times of the night. Now an object of a greater hunt, she had hounds chasing her, but no where she ran felt safe. Why keep running? Where was she supposed to go?
"And no one ever fucking listens to me," her hands pulled at her hair, and it pained James to see the beautiful locks suffer. She turned to the wall and in her strongest voice shouted: "WHY WON'T ANYONE LISTEN TO MEEEEEE!?"
Her body heaved, her slight shoulders trekking up just to hit a landslide and fall back down. This was her raw, and James never thought something as cringe-worthy as crude outrage could look so divine. He never thought he'd want to wrap his hands around a bonfire and let it burn him right through until his heart collapsed from the lack of oxygen.
"I'll listen to you." For the first time since Halloween, his words sounded so sure, so certain that he could live up to what he proclaimed. But if James was anything, he was two tablespoons of spice and three cups of reckless confidence, and he truly believed that nothing in this world could hinder him from what he wanted.
"What?"
He moved to the edge of his seat, straightened his back, and placed folded hands onto the table. His chin stood tall and proud, just like the boy who held it.
"You see, I'm ready to listen."
She marched over to him, her eyes scrutinizing slits as she bowed down to observe the creature in front of her. Maybe exhaustion was to blame, or the fact that the world had sat on her shoulders and had finally had enough carrying it, but she began to laugh; a soft trail of incredulous bells that filled the room.
James looked down and lifted the corners of his lips into a satisfied smile.
"But you've never listened to anyone in your entire life," she exclaimed, turning and leaning against the table diagonally from him.
"Yeah, but," he scrunched his face, "anyone wasn't you."
She watched him as his fingers flexed, a single purple vein popping every time he released his hand from the hold.
"Why?" Her voice became a whisper, the fury collapsing into a dying flame.
"I know I've been a complete tosser, especially in the past, but I'm trying to do better," he admitted, sighing as he realized that he had more failed attempts than successes, nevertheless hoping that Lily had noticed. Maybe, just maybe, she would believe him this time and take the hand he was holding out to her. "You know," he let out another light laugh, "I jinxed Marlene's hair off."
"You're lying!" He looked up, the beginnings of an apology already sugaring his lips, but it trailed off like sand being caught in the curl of a wave. Her green orbs were wide, her lips twitching as they decided between grimacing or grinning.
"No... you can ask Peter," he said cautiously.
"I thought it was Isla."
"No."
Lily began to chuckle, throwing her head back and clapping her hands together. It was so appealing and so contagious that after a few seconds, he, too, joined in on the chorus.
"But why?" she cried happily, breathing in deeply to catch her breath. He shrugged, pursing his lips into a smile as he looked away to her hand.
"If I ever did anything like that to Sirius, in front of the entire school, I'd want Remus to singe my eyebrows off," he admitted.
"My god," she sighed, shaking her head, "does she know? She must be royally miffed with you."
"No, only Peter knows, so don't go—" Lily held up her palm and shook her head.
"No, no, I won't," she assured him. "But why? Why go through the trouble?"
James scratched his neck, looking away.
"You were all alone," he answered, "no one defended you, not even Dorcas."
"I can defend myself."
"I know, of course you can— you're the brightest in our year, but you wouldn't, not your friends."
Lily wanted to be upset with him. She wanted to write him off and stomp out of the room while calling him a patronizing tosser, like she had so many times before. Since first year, whenever James Potter smelled an ounce of gas leaking around Lily, he would come like the staunch dog that he was and bark at who ever it was bothering her. Every time, and for all those years, Severus would whisper into her ear how much of a bigheaded wanker he was — "Lily, he's only nice to you because you're muggle-born, thinks you need saving 'cause you're not as strong." — and she would agree because she hated feeling like she needed help, and she hated everyone thinking that she didn't know things because she hadn't grown up amongst cauldrons and pointy hats. But despite everything, and unlike everyone else, James Potter had never once called her out on it, had never mentioned it, and had never made her feel excluded.
When she had discovered and confirmed Remus' condition the previous year, he had confided in her that James not only knew, but had kept him as a brother, constantly doing everything in his power to make him feel included. And she began to think that maybe — after five years of being fed propaganda — Severus was the one who saw her as weak and feebleminded because of her lineage, not James, who had proven on more than one occasion that he viewed her as nothing less than his equal.
Of course, she couldn't deny and simply forget that James Potter had been a bully, but the last time he had tried to test out a new hex on anyone had been over two summers ago.
And she knew that.
Besides, in the next four minutes, she was sure to fall head first into his lap if she didn't get herself into a bed first.
"Marly looks really awful without any hair," he commented after awhile, watching her face intently. A swell of pride grew in his chest when he saw her try to bite back a smile after minutes of a contorted face. James knew she was probably trying to understand what all of this was, for he was as well. She had hurt him a little over a week ago, and he still felt the pricks in his heart, but it seemed easier when he could talk to her. Sure, he wished it was under different circumstances, maybe as he ran his fingers through her soft hair and kissed her on her forehead every time her eyebrows twisted upwards in frustration, but this was okay, this was good.
"You're not supposed to make me laugh," she mock-reprimanded him. Deep down, Lily knew that had been the point, that almost every time he said something stupid it was to make the other person feel better. That's who he was, seeing the world through rose-colored glasses as he sang show tunes and made people dance. James wasn't just an arrogant toerag, although he could just as easily be, but the boy with the big heart who had found space for monsters, rejects, and leftovers.
It was the plainest truth and the most confusing epiphany that had ever occurred to her.
She should have known, should have been paying more attention. But it had creeped up on her, so silent, so discreet that not even her subconscious had caught it in her dreams. It had been obvious months ago, when she had begun to notice the more beautiful parts of him — rather than what had been there years ago. When she became nervous as he walked into the room, brushing back her hair and standing a little straighter, wondering if he was looking at her, rolling her eyes when she caught him. It had become obvious when they had fought one day in the Great Hall, and the sun hit his eyes in such a way that they made the hazel in them turn into a rainbow of earth— forest, honey, soil, everything. And it had frustrated her because no one was allowed to have it all, no one, no one, no one, but he did.
How? she asked herself. How was it possible to go from nothing at all to all at once? Falling, spinning, diving without even knowing. So scared without understanding what she had to be scared of.
It took seven years, a slap in the face, a little bit of firewhiskey, and a rampage to realize, to see, to feel it all.
"I'm sorry, too," she whispered. Their eyes met; hers were a soft mist and his were thunder clouds.
"For what?"
"I didn't do it because I thought you were easy," she continued, her voice so low and contrite that he wanted to lift her up and embrace her, assuring her that she didn't need to worry about it.
"Oh okay."
"I did it because..." she looked down at his hand, his fingernails digging into his knee as he tried to calm the shots of electricity running through him. Because he didn't know what was happening, and she didn't know what would be the next few syllables to roll of her tongue, but there was a new found magnetic wave coursing through the room and into their bones that made both of them want to run and scream. "Because, well..." Their eyes locked and she finally said it, "because I wanted to kiss... you."
(And the Daily Prophet on the morning of 8 November 1977 would report the following headline: Hogwarts Head Boy and Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, James Potter, explodes.)
(Two Weeks Later - 19 November 1977)
One night, when her hand laid heavily on the cork to push it down into the ink jar, he had passed her with his hands folded behind his back. There had been no intention to stop, no pre-planned scheme to speak with her, it had been the most spontaneous thing he had ever done in his entire life.
Yes, spontaneity was to blame when he found himself spinning back around on his heel, shadowing over her and asking in a polite, formal tone: "Good evening, do you like walks?"
(They say that everything in life can be traced back to one instance, one moment that changed the line of fate and made it twist around a finger.)
There was a little scrunch between her brows; her eyes roaming around the common room to make sure no one was particularly interested in them.
"Good evening, Black. Yes, I do like walks. Why do you ask, if you don't mind me asking?"
He blinked, wondering if there was a rational explanation to the way her voice made him heat up underneath his robes.
"I often take them just before curfew, usually alone. Would you care to join me from time to time?"
It was a shot in the dark, a curse sent flying against a black shadow flying in a moonless sky.
"Okay."
From time to time ended up becoming nearly every evening when he realized how enjoyable her company was. Awfully quiet, allowing him to dwell within his thoughts as her footsteps and breathing assured him of her presence, and always responding with a modest answer when he asked her superficial questions about her day. It had been unexpected, to say the least. His original plan had been to spite Evan for thinking he had the upper hand, but his once brief admiration for the witch quickly turned into full-on infatuation. All he could think about was her. When he sat in potions, he thought about her legs around his waist. When he ate dinner, he thought about ruining her calm and collected countenance with a hand up her skirt. Concentration came to an all-time low, and priorities began to change when he realized that — not only did he want to beat Evan — but he wanted Eva.
So he began to court her. At first, it was subtle. When the skies were clear and Eva stopped on the grass to observe, he understood that he hadn't thanked his mother enough for the astronomy lessons, and found himself happily pointing out all the different constellations to her, not even bothering to watch the sky as he saw the stars reflected in her own eyes. Thus, the next time her eyes looked upwards, spinning around as she tried to travel the world in one night, he stood behind her, a hand placed ever so gently on her arm as he whispered galaxies into her ear.
The following evening, it was the small of her back.
The time after that, it was her waist.
And then, on a Saturday evening some time in mid-November, he began to trail his fingers up and down her sleeve. Just like always, her body would stiffen, a breath hitched somewhere inside her throat as she tried hard to focus on the world above her. Her hand pointed up as she said in a whisper: "That's Neptune, correct?"
"Mm," he responded, her smell enrapturing her as he eyed the softest hairs on the back of her neck.
"I never asked you what your sign was," he began, feeling intoxicated. His long, slender fingers left her arm and wrapped around her waist. There was nothing left in him to fight; no reason — that he saw — to stop himself from what he wanted to do. So, as she found herself speechless from the sudden warmth that burned through her cashmere sweater, he found a spot of exposed skin just above her collarbone and began filling it with light kisses.
"Virgo," she responded unsteadily.
"Ah, the maiden," he said against her body, lifting up his chin and re-pressing his lips to the spot just behind her ear. He felt her pulse vibrating, a small sigh escaping from her. Regulus smirked, wrapping his entire arm around Eva in order to pull her closer into him. "The virgin."
His breath was hot against her; her entire body going numb as she responsively closed her eyes and leaned against him. The kisses continued, the feeling exhilarating like two bandits on the run from a successful bank heist. A sound escaped, a daring one, one that she knew to be meant for private quarters, but instead let the entire nocturnal universe hear her; somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, followed by goosebumps as his tongue flicked out to taste her.
"Regulus," she breathed. He groaned in response, wondering if he could hear his name pronounced in any other way ever again.
Eva, as she often did, had her legs spread on two different banks of a deep, powerful river. Her body came to life at his touch, wanting him to explore every crack and crevice, holding her to him tightly as she let him kiss wherever it was he craved. But another part of her screamed and kicked, pounding at the insides of her conscious as it scolded her back into chastity and diligence.
"Regulus." Though her voice sounded firmer, Regulus was too lost to be redeemed, too far in to come back out any time soon. Eva didn't wait for him to stop, spinning around in his arms to face him. The act alone caught him by surprise, his head flinching back as he blinked himself out of his stupor and found stern eyes gazing back at him. For a mere second, she could feel his hand aggressively squeezing her hip in order to keep her in place.
Regulus soon realized what he was doing and let his hands drop to his sides. He hadn't realized that he may have overstepped a boundary, not ever being taught how to properly or formally court a girl. All he knew, from his mother, was that the world was at their fingertips, and they were to take whatever they wanted. And though that had been his first instinct — to just take her — he didn't want to be Evan, who saw her as nothing less than a step to achieve.
Then again, what did he want? A couple months ago, he had nearly been ready to die for a cause, and now he wanted nothing more than to live out his life with the wonderful witch in front of him. He wanted to buy her a house, wherever she liked, and spend their years raising their children on love. Two sons, that's what he wanted. They'd be brothers, the best of brothers— he'd make sure of it, and so would Eva because that's the sort of person she seemed to be. They'd be a great, happy family, for Regulus would love Eva and Eva would love Regulus, and they'd eat dinner all together every single night, and he'd buy them gifts and he'd make love to her in ways beyond the bedroom.
Amazing to think that he had never thought to want such things, ever— not until he realized that it was a possibility. Now, it was all he could think about.
"Something wrong? I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, his voice full of concern. She smiled, warming his worries away as he felt her two small palms rest against his chest.
"No," she said quietly, shaking her head as she fingered one of his transparent buttons.
He nodded tightly, looking up and over her head. Maybe she hadn't liked what he had done, maybe she preferred other things. Regulus didn't really know much about girls, never thought much about them until this year, until her. The only time he had ever kissed a girl had been his cousin, Narcissa, who had convinced him that she needed his help in order to practice for Lucius Malfoy, who, apparently, was a professional in the subject. But 12 year old Regulus didn't understand everything, although he pretended so hard that he did, and when he had finally agreed, and Narcissa had pressed her rosy lips to his, the kiss lasted longer than the ones he had witnessed between his parents and his aunts and uncles. Her lips had bitten and poked at his own, and it hadn't felt like anything special, not until she had ground her hips into his still bony ones. With a new found strain and a stiffening between his legs, Narcissa had giggled, rubbing her hands over it and asking him to show her what was underneath. He had obliged, because she was older than him and he had thought older people were always right, and moments later her snow-white hands had wrapped around him, tugging roughly and inexpertly.
"Does that feel good Reggie?"
"Yes." It had felt good, good, so good. But a couple months later, he learned it was a memory best kept in his darkest, deepest vaults.
He looked back down, Eva had her lips pursed, still staring intently at his buttons.
"A sickle for your thoughts," he teased solemnly, replacing his hands on her hips. His heart swelled when she looked up again with a half-smile, wondering if there was a spell to make a moment last forever.
He smiled to himself as Eva laid her cheek against his chest. And Regulus swore that he could have died happy in that very moment
But...
(It is one of life's bitterest truths that bedtime so often arrives just when things are really getting interesting.)*
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
The entire hall shook and both of them jumped from one another as the sound echoed into their eardrums. It was closer than it seemed, and before Eva could even figure out in which direction it had originated from, Regulus sped off down the hall, jaw set, and wand at the ready.
(Moments earlier)
"Is there anyone comin', Moony?" mumbled Peter as he bit down into a liquorice wand.
"He just said five seconds ago that there isn't," gibed Sirius, shoving his hand down the bag that swung lazily by Peter's side and pulling out one of his liquorice wands.
"Those are mine!" the wizard cried, his forehead scrunching as he gaped at his friend. Sirius shrugged, nearly consuming the entire confection in one go. Remus snorted, shaking his head as he reached into his back pocket and re-opened the map.
The Marauders, as per tradition, had dined at the Hog's Head for supper, even though it meant breaking Hogsmeade curfew and returning to castle grounds well past the set schedule. They had just come out from the One-Eyed Witch's passage, all four of the boys sporting lovely wipes of dirt across their eyelids, cheeks, and foreheads.
"Why so anxious, Wormtail?" inquired James, turning to look at his friend. "We're back inside, curfew isn't gonna' set for another quarter hour."
"Eh, he always gets jumpy when we sneak back in without the cloak," drawled Sirius, letting out a large yawn and stretching his arms upwards.
"They have no proof that we were out past sunset," assured James, patting Peter on his shoulder. A few paces in front of them, they saw Remus stop in his tracks, turning around with furrowed brows as he stared intently at something in the map.
"What's wrong, Moony?" asked Sirius, his smile faltering as he moved to his friend's side. Remus' eyes narrowed as he looked back up.
"What would four Slytherins want with Mary?"
"Mary who? MacDonald?"
"Yeah," responded Remus.
All four of them shared looks and a second of silence before Sirius responded, "nothing good— that's for shit sure."
"Where is she?" James stepped forward, reaching down and grabbing the map as if it were an antidote to a poison.
"The Prowling Passage," Remus replied without hesitation.
"Fuck, fuck," Sirius cursed before breaking out into a quick run. James dropped the map and ran after him with Peter at his heels. But Remus wasn't so quick to move, instead reaching back down for their very own creation and relocating the names he had seen just moments ago. His eyes ran over the cluster, watching as two pairs of feet moved side by side, coming out from one of the spare rooms in that hall and waiting across from it.
He looked back up, his eye twitching as he made haste to join his friends, not knowing for sure if he wanted to find out what was behind the meaning of Eva being in the same room as Regulus Black, Cedric Avery, and Eoin Mulciber.
"FLIPENDO!" Regulus shouted, a plum light shot out the tip of his wand and smashed into Cedric Avery's face as soon as he heard the door being kicked open. The Slytherin went flipping backwards and crashing into the wall as Eoin Mulciber stepped back. The prefect's grey eyes widened as he caught sight of Eoin's unbuckled belt, his fly down as he stepped backwards, his hands up in surrender.
Regulus turned to look at the figure pressed down to the ground, cowering behind a stack of tables as soon as she had heard the bombardment. Her brown eyes were wide, an opened mouth as she attempted to shout but couldn't. There were tears, a cut over her cheekbone, and her shirt had been ripped open. The Slytherin found his breath caught in his lungs, his jaw clenching as he closed his eyes.
"Fix yourself, Mulciber, now," he commanded tightly. They heard movement by the doorway, Eva standing with a hand pressed on the wooden frame. Regulus knew who it was, but Eoin's eyes glanced up, scowling at the witch who stared, wide-eyed, at the scene in front of her. "Don't look at her, you slimy shit," ordered Regulus.
His eyes moved back to his, the two wizards stared one another down. Eva dared to walk inside, approaching them and passing over Cedric groaning on the floor. There was a distinct smell of human sweat filling the air, the room stuffy and sickening as she watched Eoin's fingers fumble on his waist band. Then her eyes darted over to the figure shuffling on the ground, and something between a yelp and a sharp inhale slipped out of the witch. The girl had bronze skin, her brown eyes water-colored red as she pleadingly looked for mercy from the only other girl in the room.
"Regulus," Eva whispered, standing right by his side, placing a hand on his forearm as she hid behind his lean body, her stomach dropping into the fields of Asphodel.
"Just take her, wait outside," he told her. She didn't hesitate, flying down to the witch's side, her arms wrapping around her shoulders. With everything she could muster, Eva got her standing, her body violently shaking against her own.
Regulus dared a glance towards her, quickly realizing that the girl sported nothing more than a tattered shirt and stockings. He shrugged off his own robe, placing it over the witch.
"It's going to be okay, just come with me," Eva kept reassuring her, walking out into the hall.
Once they had left the room, Regulus stretched his neck upwards, inhaling and exhaling deeply.
"What on Earth did you think you were doing?" he eventually asked, already knowing the answer.
"Having some fun," grumbled Cedric, now rubbing the back of his head.
"She didn't look like she was having fun."
"Just a mudblood," added Eoin, pointing out towards the door.
"Don't act like you give a bloody shit about them now," snorted Cedric as he saw Regulus momentarily stiffen. He turned with flared nostrils, marching towards his housemate and snatching his hair into his hands. Regulus' hand pulled backwards, ripping at the Slytherin's strands as he whimpered in pain.
"You idiot," he hissed, nearly spitting in his face. The two boys were nose-to-nose, so close that Regulus could nearly taste the whiskey on Cedric's breath. "We do not attack, we do not touch anyone while we walk these halls." His hand twisted backwards once again, this time smashing the wizard's skull into the wall. "You know that." He let go, standing back up and nearly snarling at the other one in there.
Eoin's eyes narrowed, but he didn't have time to retaliate for Eva was back in the doorway, her eyes wide as she said: "Someone's coming."
And then, from right behind Eva, he saw his own eyes peer back at him.
"No, we're already here."
"PUNGO!"
Eva barely had time to scream before the air had been knocked out of her lungs. Her entire face swelled up and she strained to see what was going on. There were multiple flashes of blues and reds and yellows and purples, and all she could think of was the stinging that pricked the right side of her face. Her ear felt like it was going to pop off and float away, and her neck had welled up so that she could hardly breathe.
She crawled on her knees and crashed against the wall adjacent to the door. From where she sat, she could hear them fighting, grunts and groans as both objects and humans alike went flying. Her head fell into her arms, her forehead resting against her knees as the pain pulsated like a stressed heart.
From across her, Remus sat with Mary in his arms, not being able to help the scowl directed at the Slytherin witch across from him. He didn't know what role she played in all this, but he didn't want to find out either in fear that he might retaliate in a horribly cruel way. There was no remorse when he saw her whimpering in pain, her face reflecting the ugliness from within. He felt wet tears soak through his breast pocket, and he held Mary even closer, placing a hand on the back of her head as he comforted her.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a figure rush down to Eva. His green eyes slitted, turning to eye the hooded person bending down and running a light hand over the injured side of her face.
"Toma, muñequita," she heard someone coo. Before she could even register who and what it was, a small white pill was laid down on her tongue. Her throat too dry to swallow — in too much pain that she would unquestioningly take anything to make her feel even remotely better — she forced it down. Somewhere along the way, it lodged in her throat, and she tried to swallow again, mustering as much saliva as she could to get it down. "Won't get rid of that tumor growing out your eye socket, but it'll take care of the pain."
"You speak Spanish, Fletcher?" she scoffed, closing her eyes as she felt her fingers beginning to tingle. He laughed, running a hand through her hair and curling it around his finger as he laid it down against her breast bone.
"I'll speak whatever language you like, princess," he mock-flirted.
Remus' brows furrowed together, watching as Mundungus Fletcher touched and prodded Eva. He hadn't even know that they conversed, much less on such an intimate level. His breath hitched in his throat, his eyes blinking away as he suddenly felt uncomfortable. But he was saved when Regulus came flinging out of the room, Sirius right behind him as his brother's back hit the wall and came crashing down on his knees. The Slytherin wizard groaned as the pain shot up his thighs and into his stomach.
Sirius huffed before turning to Remus as James came out of the room holding both an unconscious Cedric Avery and a writhing Eoin Mulciber by their collars. He shoved them along the wall next to Regulus, the latter shoving against the Gryffindor with all the force he had left. The bruise forming on his lower right forearm protested, and he found himself clutching it with a pained look. Peter stood by the door, both hands placed on opposite sides of the frame as his eyes toured over all the limp and livid bodies occupying the otherwise silent corridor.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Regulus spat at Mundungus, who was watching everything unfold pathetically with raised brows. Both James and Sirius turned to follow the Slytherin's gaze.
"Were you in on this sick shit, Fletcher?" inquired James, approaching both the Ravenclaw and the witch. But before he could even respond — as he made a move to turn on his bent legs — Remus had his wand out, pointing directly at the back of his head. The wizard's dark eyes traveled to see the blurred outline of the wooden stick, pursing his lips as he held his hands up and slowly began to lift himself up from the ground.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Lupin," he warned him.
But Remus only saw red. He stood up, his breath heavy and his nostrils flared as he pressed the tip of his wand into Mundungus' skull; not sure whether he was angrier with Mundungus' threats or with the fact that, just two weeks ago, he had agreed to give Eva a chance and be her friend, and here she was, with the rest of the blood bigots, aiding and abetting in a rape. More than anything, he wished he had been the one to send that stinging hex her way, but he always did have a nasty Achilles' heel when it came to jinxing witches, as if Eva wouldn't have been more than ready to send something his way.
He looked down at her, blood boiling through him as he thought about how fooled he had been. For a moment, he had actually thought of her as something special, not believing that he had actually been amused over and over again as she went into a rant about how fauns were completely different from satyrs; or how he would purposefully pretend he didn't know what she was talking about so that she would explain it him, sometimes even sending a mock-scowl his way that would only make him laugh. How stupid he had been to waste time reading up on demiguises, or using up space in his notebook to take note of all the new things she told him just so he could spend his afternoons studying them instead of doing things that actually mattered.
He didn't know who he was more disgusted with: her or himself.
One thing was for sure— he felt like a blasted idiot for not believing his gut instinct that this girl was a bad egg.
"You're in on this shit? Huh? You creepy bastard, you're in on this? HUH!?" snarled Sirius, every syllable being another reason for him to shove Mundungus further and further into the wall. Eva tried to move her feet further into her body, but nothing felt right. Her entire mind felt wobbly and too relaxed, as if she had just woken up from a restless night and couldn't sense her own legs. The world in front of her seemed surreal, the legs moving in slow-motion as the words elongated and spun around like deep bass symphonies.
Sirius felt a hand on his shoulder and he spun around.
"Leave it, Sirius," James told him before glancing at the others, "they're all being reported to the Wizengamot, all five of 'em." His hazel eyes fell over the dark figure leaning against the wall by the rest of his bedfellows. "Your time's up, Mulciber."
Eoin scowled, but before he could throw a wordless confundus towards the Gryffindor, Mundungus was speaking, his fingers wagging and his head shaking slowly with a small smirk on his lips.
"Yeah, I don't think so," Mundungus sang, his hand ruffling the top of Eva's head.
The witch felt and smelled tobacco-stained hands massaging into her scalp, the feeling tickling her as she began to squirm and giggle from the sensation. Everyone was silent, looking at the odd pair as the girl's hair covered her face. Eva couldn't help herself, everything seemed so funny. She shot her eyes up to meet a red, tear-stricken face crushed up awkwardly against a wizard's chest, finding it so completely ridiculous that she was bent over with laughter.
"What the fuck did you do to her?" growled Regulus, attempting to get up but being forced back down by his brother.
"Gave her something for the pain," Mundungus drawled, shrugging his shoulder as he continued to brush through her hair. The Slytherin tried to wring out of his brother's grasp, but bruised knees only got one so far in life.
"Which would be what, exactly?"
"Some muggle thing, wouldn't—"
"YOU. GAVE. HER. MUGGLE. MEDICINE!" This time, Regulus did manage to stand up, Sirius continuing to hold him back as he tried to charge after the Ravenclaw. Mundungus grinned a Cheshire Cat smile. "IT COULD KILL HER!"
"Oh no, trust me when I say we'd know."
"WHAT!?"
"All right, all right," Mundungus exclaimed, his eyes darting over the others as they all stared at the girl. "I know she's quite the sight, but let's focus on the real issue at hand."
There was a heavy silence, only exaggerated breathing as the tension sat across their shoulders like pesky little bugs. And the silence made Remus' head straighten, his entire face veiling in awe as he looked up and down the hall.
"What..." his words trailed off. "Where... why hasn't anyone come yet? I thought we informed the portraits to receive the Head Master."
"What's going on?" asked James, turning to Mundungus. "And why haven't you told us what you're doing here?"
"Someone very dear to me made me aware of numerous factors that played into our being here this very evening," he riddled, tilting his head as he met the gaze of every single person. "Now, a couple of things are going to happen, and they will be done to the utmost perfection. One, you will put your wand down," Remus stared down Mundungus without moving, "or else I'll snap it in half."
"I fucking dare you."
"Fletcher," called out Regulus, all eyes turning on him. "Walk away from this, you aren't a part of it—"
"All of us are going to walk away from this unscathed," interrupted the Ravenclaw. "We are going to part and forget this ever happened."
"Why the hell would we do that?" puzzled Peter.
"Each of you has a very dirty secret, you wouldn't want everyone finding them out now, would we?" His dark eyes travelled from Sirius to Remus, who felt his lungs collapse into a million pieces, back over to Regulus, who had momentarily looked over his left hand. Mundungus shrugged, pursing his lips innocently.
"And some of you have more than just one."
"You're full of bloody shit, you know that? I don't—"
"Sirius," he heard Remus warn from next him.
"Good boy," crooned Mundugus. "You four, take your girlfriend and get out of here."
"Fuck you, Fletcher," spat Sirius into his face, Remus being the first to slither past him and head back over to Mary, who was curled up against the opposite wall. He didn't even bother looking at the Slytherin witch, knowing that if he did, he couldn't be held accountable for his actions; wanting nothing more than to send another stinging hex to the left side of her face.
He hoped it welted and she looked like a scorched tomato for the rest of the week.
"You'll rot in hell," Peter whispered to him after James roughly shoved the Ravenclaw's shoulder.
"Too bad I'm not welcome there," he snickered, watching the blue-eyed wizard scatter off to Remus.
"Well, well, well," they heard someone sing and all of them, except Eva who continued to smile at her shoe laces, turned around to catch sight of who it was.
"Oh, bloody hell," cursed Regulus in an undertone, running a hand over his entire face as Melisende Gamp raised her eyebrows as she scanned over all of them.
"Shit, Fletcher, you set us up!?" cried James, not taking his eyes off of Moira Palancher's curled lip.
"Oh my gosh," giggled Rosalia Selwyn, swinging through their bodies as she bit down on the finger in her mouth. She stared coquettishly at Sirius Black, who in turn sneered and looked away. "No one invited us to the party."
"I don't think it's a party, Rosy," commented Melisende, bending down and looking at Eva.
"All three of you are out during curfew, just go back to your common—"
"Look who it is, girls," Rosalia crooned, walking over to James and tilting her head as she smiled mischievously up at him. Melisende had both hands on Eva's wrists as she turned and glanced upward for a moment.
With a snort and a shake of her head she replied, "they're blood traitors, the lot of them."
"Mm," agreed Rosalia, her head playfully swinging around the Gryffindor's maroon scarf.
"So," Moira began, her right shoulder planted heavily into the wall. "This your idea of a date, Black?" Her tone was insulting, her eyes blinking and dead as she waited for a response. Regulus' eyes darted between Eva and Mundungus. Her right eye was closed and bulging out of her head, her hand at her throat as she wheezed for breath. Regulus pressed his back to the wall and threw his head back into it, closing his eyes as he regretted everything that had happened over the past ten minutes. Eva was in pain because of him, she had been jinxed because of him, and she was now being punished because of him. And this sudden realization made him think of the ink tattooed into his left forearm; wondering if this was the sort of life she would be subjected to if she married him. Of course, they could easily wiggle themselves out of the situation, simply by admitting the truth, but that also meant exposing Eva, and such a thing would mea Eva getting sent back to France because she couldn't be trusted to walk through the corridors and not snog someone.
"Ooh!" cooed Rosalia excitedly, clasping her hands together as she caught sight of the shipwrecked Ravenclaw. "Are we playing with the mud—"
James stepped forward and gave her a pointed look, smiling forcefully as he did his best to keep his magic at bay, wanting nothing more than to chop off the Slytherin's golden locks.
"Step an entire foot back, dirty dog," sneered Melisende.
"Come on, let's get Manasse and go," implored Moira quietly, reaching down to put a hand underneath the girl's underarm. Both of them lifted her up, most of the weight being left for the Slytherin Chaser.
Eva began to laugh again, speaking gibberish as her eyes seemed to roll into oblivion.
"She's utterly obscure," Melisende said to the group, blinking from her housemate to the rest of them. "Which one of you had the nerve to hex a highborn pureblood witch?"
Sirius Black scoffed and rolled his eyes, "I did."
"Oh," faltered Rosalia, looking knowingly at Melisende, "we can't do anything about that."
She was right, Sirius Black, even though having been disowned, was untouchable by them. Being caught hexing a highborn pureblood witch was one thing, being caught hexing a highborn pureblood wizard was another.
"Be ashamed of yourself," muttered Moira, grimacing at the grey-eyed Gryffindor.
"Good thing I don't give a shit," Sirius laughed dryly.
"Excuse me but," they heard another voice scoff from beside them. Remus came forward, stepping in front of them as he stared incredulously at all three of them. Luckily, both Melisende and Moira were tall enough so that he didn't have to bend down to be eye-level with them. "They raped Mary—"
"Who?" asked Melisende. Remus did his best to keep calm, sighing deeply as he continued.
"Mary MacDonald," he gestured to the floor towards the Ravenclaw witch with his chin, neither one of three bothered to look. "They wanted to rape her, they were planning on raping her. And you three are more caught up on the fact that a highborn whatever was hexed instead of the—"
"Let's go," drawled the black-haired witch, turning around and walking off down the hall, leaving Remus with a gaped mouth. Moira followed in tow, a dazed Eva Manasse leaning heavily against her as they disappeared into the darkness.
"Bye, bye," Rosalia waved to all of them, smiling coyly at Sirius before skipping after her friends.
"Wow," breathed Peter.
"How do they live with themselves?" Remus inquired rhetorically.
"How did they know where we were?" added James after him.
"You berks, hexing Manasse," they heard Cedric grumble.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, AVERY," bellowed Sirius.
After that, they sat in silence, and then, out of nowhere, they heard scrambling and running as the three Slytherins got up and high tailed it out of there, leaving everyone and everything behind them in the dust.
With a gaped mouth, Sirius turned and shared a look with Peter. Peter, however, hadn't taken his eyes off of Mundungus.
"You know our secrets?" the small wizard inquired.
Mundungus nodded slowly, "unfortunately."
"How?"
"Fuck off, Pettigrew," snorted the Ravenclaw in response.
"Remus," a small voice called out. Remus turned to look down at Mary, reclaiming his spot next to her and pulling her into his arms.
"What are you doing here?" Sirius directed towards him.
"I had interests to protect," he riddled.
"Interests to protect?"
"Believe it or not, Black," Mundungus sighed deeply, "but there are people more important than you."
"And I thought you were here for Mary," coldly mentioned Remus.
"Low in my list of priorities, if at all," he admitted, shrugging as he stretched his arms upward. James shook his head, obviously disgusted with his words, but he didn't care. He had successfully saved his relationship with Sofia Mustaq, and that's all that mattered, that's all that would ever matter. Mary MacDonald was just a casualty of war, and anyone smart enough would realize that. He needed to make sure the artillery was kept secret, kept safe. He needed to make sure that Regulus Black remained undiscovered, and that none of them managed to turn Eva to their side, though he seemed to be losing on that front.
"Wanker," said Remus under his breath.
"Well, that just about settles it— toodles." They couldn't even watch without hexing the Ravenclaw as he disappeared after the rest of the Slytherin witches. Mundungus left in his thoughts, wondering how that could have gone a lot better, and a lot smoother than it had, but happy, nonetheless, that he had been able to hit two birds with one stone.
Back in the Prowling Passage, Remus leaned against the wall, rubbing his hand back and forth along Mary's back.
"Hey, you want to go to Pomfrey?" he whispered in her hair.
"No, I just want to stay with you lot— if that's all right," she responded.
"Of course you do, because we're going to go to the kitchens and eat a shit ton of chocolate cake," grinned Peter, his teeth bright and gleaming as he threw a wink her way.
"Yeah, that sounds nice," she agreed, closing her eyes and resting her head against the Gryffindor. James' foot kicked the wall, as Sirius let out another deep breath. "Could one of you get Lily, if it's not too much of a bother?"
James nodded hastily, "yeah, of course."
"How the fuck does he know? And what the fuck does he know?" Sirius questioned, more to himself than to anyone around him.
"I don't know, but I don't want to find out," Remus said, already tired. The full moon was in less than a week, and he could begin to feel the aches — albeit only after a particularly long day — in his back. His eyes were tired, ready to close and take a long nap, but then he would think about her and immediately the adrenaline woke him up. Eva: the way she had been sitting against the wall, laughing her head off as everyone around her fought, cursed, as Mary cried because she was scared. He would think of how the Slytherins had only shown up to receive her, to make sure that nothing had happened to their precious little cargo, to insure that Eva didn't — god forbid — show up to her wedding with a bloody scar stretched across her face.
All he could think about was that stupid little giggle that had come out of her swollen face, making her only seem uglier and crueler than she actually was. He couldn't believe he had ever seen her as attractive or beautiful, or that she had a nice smile, she had and was none of that.
And he never, ever wanted to see her again.
"Come on, let's get Mary her chocolate cake," surrendered Sirius, huffing as he began to walk in the same direction that his cowardly brother had gone off in moments ago.
*Quote is by Lemony Snicket, they are not my words
A/N: Wow, I know, I suck. They were just becoming friends! This chapter's importance will be emphasized and demonstrated in the following chapter (next Friday). This is actually going to end up being a huge lesson to Remus, so just stick with me through these muddy parts. What do you all think? Am I living up to expectations? Do I keep you coming back for more? Please let me know! Means so much to me, all of it.
Again, I love you all , you are awesome. big kisses, see you next week. xx. A.