Match

by dabow

Match. by mental Ze Meridian has a serious problem: despite the skirt, everyone seems to think she's a boy. Desperate to prove that having short hair, a bloke for a best friend, and a serious obsession with sport does not mean she's *full summary inside*

25. Garden Variety

PLEASE NOTE: I AM NOT THE AUTHOR OF THIS FANFIC. ALL RIGHTS GO TO mental OF HARRYPOTTERFANFICTION. This story was removed from hpff, so I reposted here so that fans could have access to it. I am not mental. From this point on, all content belongs solely to mental.

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Warning: There is some rather frank discussion of sex in the following chapter. If you disapprove of premarital sex, or the discussion thereof, please note that you may be uncomfortable. If you choose to leave a review voicing your discomfort, please be respectful and consider both the mature rating and this warning.

Chapter 25: Garden Variety

'I'm sorry, but that just doesn't sound like any fun at all,' Ze said, tossing an olive into the air and catching it deftly in her mouth.

Lily lowered The Highland Hussy with a laugh. 'Which - the "floating on a golden sea of passion, replete with bliss", or the "meeting him thrust for thrust, her untutored body engaging in the primal rhythm on instinct"?'

They were all laughing raucously, and Ze rolled onto her stomach, wiping at her eyes. 'Either – both,' she sniggered. 'Sounds like a load of rubbish, to me. And really, she's just lying there moaning, making poor MacLeod do all the work! S'great fantasy, having a man who doesn't require any help to shag your head off, but you can't help feeling that there's a lot of important details getting left out.'

Serena chuckled wetly, pushing a pile of crisp packets onto the floor. 'It's completely unrealistic,' she grinned. 'Nothing about how they lose their balance - or how they drip sweat all on you.'

'It seems like it would be so much messier,' Lily said contemplatively, chewing on a licorice wand. 'In reality, I mean. Clothes going everywhere, bodies sticking together…'

'I just can't imagine any bloke we know being strong enough to rip a nightdress down the middle, let alone cart a girl off to bed,' Dorcas agreed, tossing another banana peel in the direction of the rubbish basket.

'Or knowing what to do once he got her there,' Ze laughed.

'They are much better adapted to broom cupboards,' Serena agreed, chuckling. 'Not that they're much good there either, mind you,' she added with a sigh. 'I've given up shagging, after what happened over the holiday.' When the others shot her questioning glances, she shrugged. 'Guy named Marcus. I had thought maybe someone a year or two older would be at least a little, well, better, but I was wrong. He had even less of an idea of what to do than Algernon Gettlesby. And he ruined my favourite dress.'

'So how many people have you shagged, then?' Dorcas asked, unabashedly curious.

'Just the two,' Serena replied without a hint of self-consciousness. 'Algie and Marcus. I know people say that it's more than that, but they're wrong. I've snogged a few others, of course, and fooled around a little, but not as much as - well, anyway. The fact is, I just don't think that sex with guys our own age is ever going to be much good. As best I can tell, their interest is in quantity, not quality.'

'Do they really not care who they shag as long as they're getting off?' Lily asked, and Ze was surprised to see that the redhead was addressing her, not Sereana.

'Er, what you asking me for?' she asked, confused.

'Well you're friends with them, aren't you?' Dorcas asked as though this were obvious – which, Ze supposed, it rather was. 'You're bound to know more about how they think than we do.'

Ze felt her brows arch and lips purse of their own accord: she had never really thought of it that way, but she supposed that Dorcas was right. She'd spent years listening to her friends talk about what they liked in a girl, and what they wanted. And, more often than not, what they wanted centred around sex. She had never taken it personally, because sex was something everyone was curious about. Okay, so their manner of discussing it was a bit crude, but…

'I'd never thought of that,' Serena said to Dorcas, her head whipping back to Ze. 'You're like the ultimate double agent, aren't you? You've known them for years, you've heard them talk about all sorts of stuff, haven't you? What's it like for them, then? Sex, I mean.'

Ze licked her lips. This felt, oddly enough, like a betrayed confidence. But then, it wasn't like she was going to mention names – it was just general information, right? And maybe, if she explained things, everyone would get on a little better, because then they'd understand one another. Surely that made sense. Surely. Licking her lips again, she chose her words with care. 'I'm not sure that's really one I can answer,' she explained. 'What sex is like for them, well…okay, look. The fact is, not that many of them have actually done it, right? More or less, they're as in the dark as we are. It's just that…ummmm. Look, they haven't got bad intentions, or anything, okay? Sex interests them. They want it. A lot. So they go after it – the same way they'd go after a –a – a chocolate frog.' She stared at her audience, noting the blank, confused expressions. 'This isn't making any sense, is it?''No,' they chorused honestly.

'Okay.' Ze took a deep breath, and tried to think. She sorted through conversations, through silences, through jokes and dinners and quidditch training and quickly stifled laughter - through all the myriad little interactions that make a friendship real. It was there, that overwhelming feel of – of what? What did you call it? 'Curiosity,' she said suddenly, her head snapping up. 'They're just…curious.'

'Curious?' Lily asked blankly.

'Yeah,' Ze said, getting excited about this revelation. 'They're like us, yeah? All different - different likes, different personalities – which means that they're going to have different ways of looking at things. But - just like us - they're made of the same stuff, in the same shape. Which means they're all keen on sex. So are we. You get guys like – like – Andrew Wilkins. Okay, take Andy: he's shy, he's quiet, wears his trousers up round his armpits. He's probably never talked to a girl about anything but transfiguration homework in his life – but somewhere behind those bottle-cap glasses, he's dying to get his hand up a skirt.

Now take our Rob. He's never been shy about anything a day in his life. He's got no qualms about yelling his head off in the Great Hall whilst wearing a bra, let alone asking some girl if she fancies a shag up against the nearest wall. But, in the end, Rob's no more obsessed with sex than Andy is – he just makes more noise about it. See, guys think about things a different way. You – girls, I mean – look at…uhhmmm…' Ze began to falter. This was getting into a grey area in terms of her personal knowledge, all this talk about how girls thought. 'You look at the big picture, okay?' she said. 'Like – like, if you're having tea, you don't just look down and see a cup of liquid. You see a teacup and a saucer, you see how much milk and how much sugar – you see the teapot, and if it's full enough for three people, or five. You think about how long it'll take to put the kettle on, and whether you'd rather have cakes or biscuits, and you worry what your mums would think, if they knew you were having friends round and had just put out the 'gestives instead of getting one of the smart little biscuit tins.

But boys, boys just see a cup full of liquid. That's what they wanted – tea. They've got it. They drink it. If there's biscuits, then that's nice. If there's fancy biscuits, and a little tray of sandwiches with the crusts off, and maybe some chocolates, then that's bloody brilliant. But it's all secondary to the tea. See, they look at things in essentials. The point of a quidditch match is to win. Not to show off a load of fancy moves, not to execute flawless teamwork – to win. Now, fancy moves and teamwork have their place, but they are, you might say, on a par with the sandwiches with the crusts off. Guys look at sex the same way. There are fancy moves, and everything certainly goes smoother when you're flawlessly working together, but what you're really after is the massive rush at the end. Right now, to them, that's the whole point of doing it.'

'That is the most disgustingly chauvinistic, degrading, repressive attitude –'

'No, you're missing it,' Ze hurried to interrupt before Lily could go into a full rant. 'You're missing it. Remember how I said that most of them haven't ever had sex? Yeah? So all their thoughts, all their daydreams, are just the assumptions of the uninitiated, as it were. All of them have had an orgasm – they know how nice it feels. They want to repeat the experience, as often as possible, in every way their pervy little minds can imagine. Having a girl helping things along can only make it better, but the primary interest is still the end result. They want to shag so they can come. But, since they've never actually shagged anyone, they can only concentrate on the coming part – it gets all their attention because they haven't figured out the rest of it. Not because they aren't willing to, or because they can't – just because they haven't. And, they being the sort of creatures that aren't going to put themselves to unnecessary trouble, you might have to give them a few pointers about how it's done.

See, the problem, in their minds, is that girls are not sandwiches with the crusts off, nor are we properly executed Wronski Feints. This is where it goes tits up, because suddenly they're dealing with something that they can't just master and then rely on as a constant skill. There's too much give and take – what we want, what we think, what we are comfortable doing. Suddenly they've got to look at the big picture. They've got to organise the proverbial party, and sort out how many teacups can fit on the table, and whether there are enough biscuits to go around. And they've got to talk us through worrying about what Mum'll think, and whether we should have invited the Smiths from two doors down, and what we're going to do about the hedge that hasn't been trimmed properly in ages. For a bloke, that's like getting pissed and being sent to walk through a minefield, wearing a blindfold and hobnail boots.'

Her three companions stared at her. Finally Serena opened her mouth. 'Have you ever thought about writing this down?' she asked. 'Because you could make loads of money.'

'No she couldn't,' Lily snapped impatiently. 'Because that whole explanation is just an excuse for men being insensitive bastards with the emotional capacity of a toothbrush. And I think that's still giving them too much credit. Not that you haven't been terribly clever,' she hastened to assure Ze, having realised how rude she'd sounded. 'That bit about the tea party is really quite inspired. But it doesn't tell you how to fix things.'

'That's because there's nothing to fix!' Ze cried. 'Nothing's broken, Lily, nothing's wrong. They look at it one way, and you look at it another. And that doesn't mean men as a whole versus women as a whole - some men are as soppy and warm and fuzzy as women, and some women are as brash and insensitive as men. This is just a generalisation, okay? I'm not a boy, I can't really explain what goes on in their heads – in fact, I'm fairly sure I've made them out to be worse than they actually are, but the fact is, you're never going to get anywhere if you're determined to see only the bad points. Do men get obsessed with one small part of the whole? Yes! Do women worry too much about extenuating circumstances? Yes! Have people managed to, in spite of all this, procreate to the point of populating this planet? Yes! Maybe we're engineered to fight so that we can make up later.'

'Make-up sex is supposed to be amazing,' Dorcas confirmed with a nod. 'There are all sorts of studies done on it – if you shag directly after a horrible fight, you're more likely to come to an amicable compromise.'

'Yes, but that would involve actually enjoying being shagged,' Serena said sensibly, sitting up and folding her legs.

Dorcas and Ze glanced at one another in confusion. 'But I thought –'

Serena sighed. Even Lily looked glum. 'This is what I've discovered,' Serena explained, 'and Grace could probably back me up, if she weren't such a worthless bitch. Anyway,' she tossed her hair, 'what I mean is, shagging takes practise. Loads of it. As much as you can get. We're all born with vague instincts about what goes where, but making it an enjoyable experience? Not precisely easy. I think you're right, Ze, when you say that blokes get obsessed with one point. They know where it's going, and they want to get there as quick as they can. But for us…well, it takes a bit more than a pinch here and a poke there, if you get what I'm saying.'

'Of course I get what you're saying,' Ze said, frustrated. 'But if you're not enjoying it, then tell him what he's doing wrong!'

Serena stared, gobsmacked. 'Are you joking? Tell him what he's doing wrong? You couldn't –'

'And why not?' Lily asked. 'Why not tell him he's about as much use as a wet weekend at the seaside? If he's doing a crap job, he ought to know it – and if he's not doing for you, there's no reason you should be doing for him!'

'Here here,' Dorcas nodded. 'Hardly fair. If you can't get what you want out of it, then why waste your time?'

'Look, you don't understand,' Serena was saying impatiently. 'If you tell them they're doing it wrong, they get offended and pissed off and say "what do you know"? And then they scarper and that's the last you hear from them until the rumours start. Trust me, the best you can do is give them a few subtle hints – you know, nudge their hand in the right direction, that sort of thing.'

'What,' Ze snorted, 'and hope that they eventually get the idea? Are we supposed to wait around while they have a bit of practise, and cross our fingers that they'll pick up a trick or two by accident? That's rubbish!'

'And who're they supposed to practise with, anyway?' Lily added indignantly. 'I don't want to go to bed with someone knowing that he's had another girl teach him everything he knows. Probably I'd want something different anyway. Why shouldn't I go off and figure out what I like in the find a guy and teach it to him?'

Serena blinked. 'That is bloody brilliant. This Andy Wilkins,' she said, turning to Ze, 'is he really ugly?'

'What?' Ze asked. 'But you just said –'

'I think Lily's got a point,' Dorcas said. 'You said it yourself, Ze – having the man do all the work is stupid. He's only going to do what makes him feel best anyway, so how do you know you're getting your fair share?'

'And why shouldn't we be able to figure things out ourselves?' Serena asked. 'They do. Everyone knows boys are supposed to be pervy little wankers. They're allowed to shag whomever they please, but heaven forbid I try to have a bit of fun.'

'That's exactly right,' Lily nodded. 'If girls were as openly curious about sex as boys were, no one would think it was weird that we'd be interested in a purely physical relationship. If all of us admitted that we just wanted a chance at getting some experience, not a stupid soppy boyfriend, no one would be able to talk down to us.'

'Well, I wouldn't mind a boyfriend –' Serena began.

'Well of course not, if you found one who was good at it-'

Ze sat in the centre of it all, dazed and confused, as the chat escalated to a discussion and the discussion degenerated into an argument. Lily thought men should be kept alive only long enough to harvest their sperm. Serena thought they should be genetically reprogrammed to be sensitive to a woman's needs. Dorcas said someone should teach them how to shag and do a proper set of revision notecards. Lily shouted that they were useless rubbish, the lot of them. Serena bemoaned the sad state of romance in the world. Dorcas asked if anyone had any idea if there was research to support the theory that chocolate could substitute for sex. Ze stared in horror. Sirius had thought there would be giggling?

*.*.*.*.*.

James didn't have to look up from his book to give the password, or to leap through the portrait hole. In fact, he would have made it across the common room and probably up the stairs without so much as a hitch in his pace if an hysterical voice hadn't cried, 'Head boy! It's the head boy!', nearly startling him into awareness. And then two sixth year girls had latched onto him, explaining that their dormitory was under attack by the undead.

Ordinarily, this might have caught James's attention (after all, it wasn't every day you got to meet a zombie), but tonight he really couldn't spare them the time. One large and particularly hairy girl was attempting to explain that preliminary defensive measures had been taken (for some reason, she kept attempting to show him her knuckles, which were even hairier than her face), and James nodded rapidly, his eyes never moving away from the ornate print in his book. 'Have some dungbombs,' he said absently, digging in his pocket and coming up with a handful of the horribly smelly explosives. 'Very useful things, dungbombs,' he added, shuffling them into the hairy girl's hand without looking up. 'Just, you know, chuck them at anything that moves.'

'What, even you?' a voice muttered as he broke away from them and turned to the staircase.

Somewhere in his subconscious a lesson filed under Useless Head Boy Shite raised a hesitant hand and whispered a suggestion. 'You should all be in bed,' James found himself saying, waving a hand at them over his shoulder. 'Past lights out.'

'Useless git,' another girl said, and they all crowded around Sandra Widdles and her handful of dungbombs. 'Right then, who should we get first?'

James, sadly, did not hear this. If he had, he might have saved the Ravenclaw common room carpet, not to mention the plumbing works in two toilets…but that is another story. As it was, he manoeuvred up the stairs, suffering only one stubbed toe, and leaned his way into his dormitory. Remus, Peter, and Sirius all looked up, and said in unison, 'Thank Merlin.'

'Yeah,' James replied absently, dropping his bag in the direction of his bed and missing it by about a foot. The bag tumbled to the floor, spilling books and parchment in every direction.

'You'll never believe it,' Remus said, rubbing at a persistent patch of face-black with a handkerchief. 'We've accidentally snuck into the girls' sixth again – bloody windows, moving around like that…'

'Remus got punched,' Peter added, patting his plump face dry.

'That's nice,' James nodded. 'I'm going to have a shower.' And with that he – and the book- disappeared into the bathroom.

Sirius, who had been pressing a towel of ice to his head, let the bundle drop to share in the complete and utter shock of James, a shower, and a book – all of them, together. 'This,' he said, 'can't be good.'

*.*.*.*.*.

'OI!'

Everyone froze, Lily in mid-finger shake, Dorcas striking a pose of Noble Oration, and Serena shredding a tissue violently. 'This,' Ze said desperately, 'is bloody scary. Not that I really know what's supposed to be going on, but I didn't think I was signing on for philosophical shouting matches or a Castration Campaign.' She looked around helplessly. 'I thought we were just supposed to giggle a lot and varnish our nails.'

The others glanced stiltedly at one another, discovering that they looked rather ridiculous. Dorcas sank awkwardly back onto her bed and tried to pretend that one arm, fist clenched, hadn't just been raised in a Lord Nelson-ish manner. Lily hastily tucked her hands behind her back and cleared her throat. 'This hasn't been very giggly, has it?' she asked in the tones of the humiliated.

'My nails are purple, though,' Dorcas hurriedly offered, waving her violently violet fingernails for display.

'Well who says you can't talk philosophy and apply nail varnish at the same time?' Serena asked stubbornly, tossing the remnants of her tissue over the edge of her bed. 'I personally enjoy a nice chat about metaphysics whilst I'm buffing my cuticles.' .

'Funny, really, that the guys think we're talking about which of them we'd rather shag,' Ze grinned. 'And we're really talking about how none of them would be worth the trouble!'

Lily flashed a broad, mischievous smile, morphing from righteous social crusader to cheeky minx in no time at all. 'None of them maybe, but I'm sure a man with a bit of experience, a few years to his credit…like, say, a professor?'

'Oh, we are not playing that!' Serena cried. 'We are not!'

'Ha!' Lily shouted, 'yes we are! And you have to go first! Slughorn or….Kettleburn!'

'Euuuughghghhh! That is absolutely foul,' Serena wailed. 'I choose death.'

'You can't! Got to chose – Kettleburn or Slughorn!' Lily cried madly.

Ze edged toward Dorcas, speaking out of the side of her mouth. 'What is going on?'

'I think they've both gone loony,' Dorcas whispered back, her eyes darting back and forth between Serena and Lily. 'Run for it?'

'On the count of three,' Ze agreed. 'One –'

'Oh, fine – Kettleburn – there'd be less of him to grapple with,' Serena said, capitulating at last. 'Alright, Dorcas –' Both Dorcas and Ze froze, each crouched and ready to spring in the direction of the door. 'Ummmm,' Serena was saying, doing either a fair job of channelling a spirit, or putting the hamster powering her mind through its paces on the wheel. 'Okay!' she shouted suddenly, and Dorcas and Ze jumped. 'Would you rather shag the lecturer in Ancient Runes or – wait for it – the barman in the Three Broomsticks?'

Dorcas stared at her. 'Was it something you ate? Or is this a joke?'

Serena stared back, just as confused. 'You have to choose-'

'It's a game,' Lily explained. 'You come up with two horrible choices – the nastiest ones you can can think of – and the other person has to pick which she'd rather shag. It could be, say, a Gringotts goblin versus the Slytherin quidditch captain – '

'Goblin,' Ze immediately said, instincts kicking in.

'Ohkay,' Lily chuckled. 'That's that one. You've really never played before?'

Dorcas and Ze shook their heads. 'Sirius did warn me about it,' Ze admitted. 'I figured he was joking.'

'He probably was,' Serena shrugged. 'They've no idea what we do up here. For a joke my sister told Appolonius MacGregor that we practise kissing on one another - only he believed her, and passed it on. Both of them left school five years ago, but the lads of Gryffindor still think that a hens night means we're up here snogging away, tongue and all.'

'They used to sneak up to see,' Lily said smugly. 'They'd try to come through the window, since they can't go up the stairs. We fixed it so the window moves around – if you're looking for the girls' seventh, you automatically end up somewhere else,' she added gleefully. 'Best charm I've ever cast, and I can't even tell anyone about it,' she added with a sigh.

'Oh please,' Serena sniffed, 'Flitwick already fancies your pants off. If you told him you'd managed a Locus Confundus Charm in fourth year, he'd probably throw you down on the classroom floor and have his way with you.'

'Ewwww,' they all laughed.

'Who'd you rather have,' Dorcas asked Lily, 'Flitwick or Dumbledore?'

'Eurgh,' Serena moaned, miming spewing sick.

'Tough choice,' Lily said, straight-faced. 'Very tough.' Ze spotted the gleam in her eye, and grinned. 'Flitwick wouldn't have as far to go down, but they say Dumbledore can do the most amazing things with his…wand.'

'Aghghghgh!' This started a chain of laughter, and somehow there was a great deal of throwing food, and when everyone finally stopped it was to pick sweets out of hair and crisps off pillows.

'I'd have to go with Dumbledore,' Ze admitted. 'He's getting on, but there's just something about him…'

'You know,' Dorcas murmured, 'you might be right. I can't put my finger on it, but you just get the feeling that, if you could ever get his attention…'

They all paused for a long moment to contemplate this, and then shook away the faint tingles the thoughts inspired. 'I can't believe I'm imagining sex with an over-forty,' Serena laughed.

'I can't believe I'm imagining sex with someone whose hair is longer than mine,' Lily shot back.

'Welcome to my life,' Ze mock-sighed, and everyone laughed.

'It is great hair though,' Serena said sincerely. 'I wish I had the guts to chop mine.'

'But yours is so lovely,' Ze replied enviously. 'I think I'd like long hair, but I haven't the patience to grow mine out. That, and having it short's so easy.'

'And you look good with it,' Dorcas added. 'That's not so easy, you know. Loads of other girls have cut theirs, trying to look like you, and mostly they just look like half-shaved pigs.'

'I knew there was a reason I liked you,' Serena told her. 'So quiet, and so cutting.'

Dorcas looked vaguely pleased. 'I've always wanted to be mean,' she said. 'Secretly. Not that I'd be mean to everyone, of course – but there are people that could do with a good telling off, only I can never seem to think of it when we're face to face.'

'I know what you mean – like you've got all these brilliantly clever cut-downs, but the moment you've got the opportunity to use them, all you can think of is "I hate you!" Me, I've always wanted to stand on the Gryffindor table and yell my head off – just give them all the finger and scream "bugger off" at the top of my voice,' Lily said dreamily. 'I think it would be grand. A secret fantasy, I guess. Know what I mean?'

'I'd like to run around starkers – just once,' Serena agreed wistfully. 'I think it would be, I dunno, freeing, somehow.'

'I'd like to skinny dip in the Black Lake,' Dorcas sighed. 'Course, I'd have to learn to swim first…'

Ze tried to think of any secret desires she had the involved being either murderously angry, or publicly nude, and came up short.

'Dance naked in the moonlight,' Lily said, rolling onto her back and smiling up at the ceiling. 'Just take off all my clothes and twirl round outside one night. Skyclad, like those soppy poets are always saying, in a heathen ritual. That's what my gran and my sister think I'm here learning, heathen rituals. I might as well participate in one, eh?'

'We should do it,' Serena said, sitting up. 'They've got the bloody Sacred Wanks of Godric or whatever they call themselves, and everyone knows that's just funny passwords and dressing up in smelly robes. Why shouldn't we be able to have our own little ceremony?'

'There are quite a few to choose from,' Dorcas offered. 'There are numerous rites traditionally performed by groups of witches, oftentimes in the nude, beneath the light of the moon. I've got a book somewhere –' she disappeared over the side of her bed to search up whatever ancient and arcane text contained the secret mysteries of the Daughters of Whatever.

Ze glanced at Serena and Lily, who didn't seem bothered at all. Face masques, mucky novels, and mouldy heathen rituals – and somehow it didn't feel strange in the slightest.

*.*.*.*.*

'Okay, you go in on the left – and Pete you're on the right – and I'll be coming up centre –'

'And you grab it while we hold him down,' Remus nodded, his voice barely audible. The three of them were nonchalantly gathered round the door to the toilet, trying very hard not to stare at James, whose face was buried deep in the pages of that massive book. It was nearly three in the morning, and James was seated on his bed, scribbling furiously on a tablet propped on his knees, the book balanced precariously above. He was muttering in such a rapid and garbled manner that they couldn't understand a word. Peter, Remus and Sirius watched in horror as he actually doublechecked a sentence to ensure it was the one he wanted to copy down. 'Fuck, we haven't got much time,' Remus hissed.

'He's almost gone,' Peter nodded.

'Dark forces at work,' Sirius agreed. 'On the count of three?' They all nodded and broke formation, taking up their places around the room. One Sirius signalled with his finger. Remus shook his legs out and prepared to dash. Two. Peter took a deep breath and flexed his shoulders. Three.

'Agggghh!' they all yelled, and ran for it. Before James knew what had happened, he was pinned to the bed and Sirius was above him, juggling the enormously heavy book.

'What the - fuck - you bastards - don't lose my place!' James shouted. 'DON'T LOSE MY PLACE!'

Sirius tried to keep his balance, but the mattress and James's efforts to free himself sent him into a mutated form of hopscotch. The pages of the book shuddered and blew and then, as though by order of a higher power, quite magically fell open to the very page James had been reading. 'Got it! Got it!' Sirius shouted back. 'Stop thrashing, you idiot.'

James stilled and glowered back and forth between Peter and Remus. 'What is the matter with you – can't you see I'm reading?'

Remus's eyes flew to the others. 'What d'you think – Imperius?'

'Could be a Confudus,' Sirius replied.

'Definitely Dark,' Peter nodded.

'I have not been Imperiused!' James cried indignantly.

'Ah, but you would say that, wouldn't you?' Peter said triumphantly.

Sirius crouched down and stared into James's eyes which, though snapping with fury, seemed a normal and unclouded hazel. 'What is James Potter's favourite flavour of ice cream?'

'Chocolate!'

'And what is your dog's name?'

'I haven't got a dog, which you know very well, you tosser-'

'Right, right – and if you could do anything in the world, what would it be?'

'Shag Lily Evans rotten and have her tell me she loved it!' James nearly screamed. 'Now let me up so I can rip your bloody head off you bastard –'

'Yeah, it's definitely him,' Sirius confirmed. 'But just, ahm, hold him down a bit longer, yeah?'

'Moony, Wormtail, if you don't let me go right now I am going to find the last of my dungbombs and shove them up your –'

Peter let go with a whimper. James rose off the bed with vengeance writ in every line of his body and Sirius, his stomach plummeting to his knees, yelled, 'Stop!' James froze, and turned to see Sirius, holding the book aloft like a hostage. 'Now, now just hold on a moment,' Sirius said breathlessly. 'Just hold on a moment, before you go killing anyone.'

James growled inarticulately.

'We just want to know what's going on,' Sirius explained slowly, soothingly. 'You're not being very, well, normal, and we're worried –'

'I'm just reading a book,' James snarled.

'That being our point,' Remus said. 'You only read when it's an emergency.'

'And you always tell us when it's an emergency,' Peter explained.

'And if it's an emergency,' Sirius said quietly, 'then we want to help.'

James looked between the three of them, and slowly his shoulders sank. 'That's….nice.' They all breathed a sigh of relief.

'So, what's going off then?'

James looked between them, his face slowly morphing from anger to excitement. 'Well, I wasn't going to tell you yet – haven't got all the details worked out of course – but – okay –' he whirled around and grabbed his tablet, flipping through pages furiously. 'Okay, so, this book, see, it's all about mating rituals,' he explained, as though this were perfectly normal.

'Mating…rituals?' Remus repeated, eyebrows abdicating his forehead for his hairline.

'Yeah – all sorts of kinky stuff. Honestly, you wouldn't believe some of the things they get up to. But anyway, I've been reading up on it, and I've got a plan.' He looked up, his eyes shining brilliantly.

'A plan?' Sirius repeated, sounding decidedly strangled.

'Yes! See, we've been going about it all wrong! Trying to flirt and chat girls up, like we can actually do something ourselves! Stuff like that doesn't work – there's no point to it. It's just a load of rubbish and makes us look like idiots. What we need is a tried and true ritual, something primitive, something to initiate the age-old attraction!'

As one, Remus, Peter and Sirius took a step back from the figure raising one arm in triumph, the other shaking his notes. 'Ahhhh –'

'And I've found it – took me ages, but I've found it. There are just a few details left to sort out, but if I could just finish my book,' he shot them an incensed glance, 'I could have it all worked out by tomorrow. Which, incidentally, would be the perfect time to do it! So, what do you say?' he asked eagerly.

'Tomorrow?'

'Oh, um, I think I'm busy-'

'Yeah, me too – '

'Got to, er, ahm, brush my teeth –'

'Right! And I'll be, um, counting my socks…'

James glared at all of them. 'I thought you wanted to help!'

'Yes, well, you know – '

'Look, Prongs, that's a lot to swallow,' Sirius said forthrightly. 'I mean, a ritual to – what was it – initiate the age-old attraction? Not exactly the sort of thing you think of as an emergency. Or really something you want to do on a Friday night, for that matter.'

'Couldn't you tell us what it is?' Peter asked. 'You know, whether or not it involves killing chickens or summat?'

'We are not killing chickens!' James cried indignantly. 'Or anything else,' he added, because it was just the sort of reassurance a Marauder with a conscience would need. Not that there were any of those present, of course, but there was such a thing as form. 'Look, just trust me, okay? Marauders?'

Remus and Sirius exchanged a sceptical glance: agreeing to something sight unseen was always a bad idea. They knew this. They had the scars to prove it. But if you were going to do it for anyone…well, brothers were brothers. 'Marauders,' they reluctantly agreed.

'Pete?'

'Marauders,' he said hesitantly. 'As long as there's nothing to do with chickens.'

'No chickens, I promise. Now you lot might want to get some sleep – you're going to need it.'

Still looked at one another uneasily, the other three shrugged and went to bed, wondering if life was this strange for everyone, or if it was just them….

*.*.*.*.*.

The following morning Sirius arrived in the common room five minutes late for his meeting with Ze. He was barely dressed, his shirt on back to front, his shoes unlaced, but he was there. Half seven in the morning was no time to be getting up if you hadn't gone to sleep until half three. Stifling a yawn, he tried to surreptitiously do up his shoes while glance around for his running mate. But after he'd managed to lace his second shoe and there was still no sign of Ze, he began to wonder. And then, for about half a minute, he glowered and cursed, because the room was empty – clearly, she'd left without him. And then he heard a faint sound, almost like someone murmuring, coming from the couch. Putting his head on one side, he took a step closer. What he saw had him taking another step, and then another, until he was looking down over the back of the couch.

Sirius had heard that people looked younger when they slept, as though the child inside took over the body once more. This was definitely true in Ze's case. Her short hair was mussed up against the couch pillows, her body curled round one cushion with her cheek nestled into her shoulder and her knees drawn up toward her chin. She seemed more fragile, the long slender lines of her body more obvious, the tough cording of her muscles less so. And, looking down at her, Sirius knew that he didn't have the heart to wake her. She would be angry, he was sure, probably snarky that she hadn't had enough sleep, and snarkier still that he'd been rude enough to notice it. But he couldn't do it. His eyes traced her features, the faintly flushed cheeks and the mouth that was slightly open, the breathing deep and even. Soft light poured across her face, bathing her in a golden warmth that turned her skin to velvet and her hair to pitch. Waking something so beautiful would probably count as ten or fifteen years of bad karma, he was sure of it. He wanted, more than anything, to crawl onto the couch beside her and curl around her body, to snuggle in and go back to sleep himself. But that move would probably earn him a black eye – or possibly a ruptured kidney, depending on which limb retaliated first. So, his own tiredness forgotten, he drank in the sight one last time, and tiptoed back up to his dormitory to think about something besides sleeping Ze.

*.

Ze yawned. And then she yawned again. 'Awake are we?' Sirius asked, grinning.

She turned to see him, freshly showered and obviously just dressed, standing on the foot of the boys' stair. 'Noghgo reallghghg,' she replied through yet another yawn. 'And then I got up to go jogging with you, you lazy ass, and you didn't bother to show.'

Sirius mumbled something noncommittal about sleeping in, his head ducked down. So she didn't know he'd come down and seen her…

'Not that I minded overmuch,' she said, clapping her hand over her mouth as it gaped wide again. 'Didn't get much sleep,' she explained as they exited the portrait hole and joined the mass stumble down toward breakfast.

They were silent for most of the journey, bumping shoulders and bouncing off one another as they tried to come fully awake in time to get something to eat. As they reached the Great Hall Sirius attempted to shove his tie into a semblance of a knot and glanced over at her. 'You really are dead on your feet. What kept you up? Having your cards read and your make-up done?' he joked.

'That wasn't the half of it,' she replied wryly. 'Here, you're stuffing it up,' she added, and grabbed ahold of his tie, jerking it into order and cinching it tight.

'Oofph,' Sirius gasped, tugging at the knot helplessly. 'You been practising your nooses, Executioner?'

'Just making sure you're well hung,' she shot back cheekily, sliding onto the bench and grabbing up some toast.

Sirius dropped down beside her, one corner of his mouth kicking up. 'So your night in was everything you dreamed it'd be?'

'I certainly learnt a thing or two,' she replied, spreading jam on her toast. 'You'd never think Dorcas was such a mine of useful information.'

Rob sat down in time to hear this, and, after exchanging a glance of horrified fascination with Sirius, looked down the table to where Dorcas was entering the Hall. 'Ah, this wouldn't have anything to do with bananas, would it?' Sirius asked in what he hoped were light tones.

Ze's brow furrowed for a moment, but she said, 'Yeah, she is a bit keen on them.'

Rob elbowed Sirius and gave him a hard look that said "See? Told you!". Sirius shot him one back that said "yeah, but Dorcas?"

'Of course, Serena's the real expert on – oi, pass the eggs!'

Sirius elbowed Rob, giving him frantic eyebrow signals to ask subtle and leading questions. 'Wouldn't have thought Serena'd know anything about nothing,' Rob said, displaying the keen edge of his intuition in the best possible light.

Ze scowled at him faintly 'Just because she wears heels doesn't mean she's an idiot Rob,' she admonished, popping a blueberry into her mouth and thinking of the surprising depth of Serena's knowledge of druid culture. 'I mean, it's not the sort of stuff you could be a lecturer for, but she definitely knows what she's on about.'

Rob and Sirius swallowed in sync, despite the fact that neither had taken even a bite of food.

Lily chose that moment to drop onto the bench across from her. 'Morning Zaz,' she said with a yawn. The, her gaze flickering up to the teachers' table, one eyelid drooped in what might have been a wink. 'Even in the light of day, hm?'

Ze glanced the same way – Sirius would swear they were looking at Dumbledore –and gave a decidedly naughty laugh. 'I'm still saying yes – the others'll back me up.' She leaned back in her seat and peered toward the door. 'I see Dorcas, but where's Serena?'

Lily swallowed and waved her spoon. 'I left her in the shower,' she replied.

Rob gave a gasping little groan.

'Morning,' Dorcas said, dropping down beside Lily and directly in front of the fruit platter. 'Oooh, bananas.'

Sirius pressed a finger to his temple, wondering if his head were going to explode or if this was just a system test. Leaning over to Ze he murmured, 'You're acting like aliens - what the hell happened last night?'

'Nothing,' she whispered back. 'Well, something,' she amended, almost guiltily, but Sirius had no way of knowing that she was thinking of telling off Grace. 'I had a nice time, actually. Sort of weird, when you think about it. Probably the strangest night I've ever had at Hogwarts, and it happened right in my own dormitory…'

'Your night can't have been much stranger than mine,' Sirius muttered, thinking of James's tales of secret rites and trying to ignore the way Ze was licking the jam off her fingertips.

'Oh, I don't know,' she sighed in reply, remembering the descriptions of skyclad rituals Dorcas had dug out.

'No nail varnish, though,' Sirius noted, pointing at her bare hands.

'Just on my toes,' she grinned.

Sirius found himself swallowing again, and wondering what colour she'd chosen. 'You know, I was wondering –'

'Morning Ze,' a voice said, and they both turned to see Colin Cross waving from the Hufflepuff table.

'Hey Colin,' Ze replied, smiling. Sirius stifled a snarl.

'We still on for tomorrow?' Cross called back.

'Yeah. Meet you in the courtyard in the morning?'

'Brilliant,' Cross agreed, tossing his bag over his shoulder. 'See you then!'

'Bye!' Ze turned back to the table, still smiling, and Sirius squeezed his fork in his fist.

'Well played Zaz,' Serena chuckled, sinking onto the bench. 'He's head over heels.'

Ze gave a nervous laugh, and Sirius thought, he'd bloody well better not be! 'Hopefully I'll manage not to be awkward,' Ze joked.

'You're not awkward,' Sirius began, but Serena just laughed again.

'Don't worry about it – we've promised to help you, and we will. We'll get everything settled tonight, and by the time you meet him tomorrow you'll be perfectly ready,' she said. Sirius desperately wanted to ask when Serena had got appointed as Chief Counsel, but knew Ze well enough to know that this was a question to ask her when she was alone.

'Okay,' Ze nodded, and then, as though to reassure herself, repeated, 'I'll be ready.'

Yeah, Sirius thought glumly, but I won't.

*.*.*.*.*

'If your face gets much longer they'll be using it to measure race courses,' Ze told Sirius, dropping down beside him on the couch.

He turned to look at her, trying for a sheepish smile. 'And if your smile gets much wider, it'll break your mouth,' he said, catching sight of her grin. 'You really are thrilled, aren't you?'

A faint blush infused her cheeks, and she shrugged, picking at the brocade. 'I guess I'm just surprised – I mean, I didn't really think it would happen, you know?' she explained. It was after supper and well past dark, and this was the first time she'd seen him today that didn't involve lessons and crowds of other people, and she'd been wanting all day to explain that she hadn't meant to be rude at breakfast, talking with Serena and Lily and not him. It was just that they'd had things to discuss, plans for tonight and getting Ze ready for her first ever date. She knew she was being stupid, that making a few new friends wasn't supposed to make you feel all warm and special, but there was definitely something nice about knowing that she now had mates who wore the same sort of underwear.

Sirius felt his gut twist. As far as he knew, Ze had only seen Cross in Herbology lessons and then at breakfast this morning, but if she was this happy…well, maybe she'd come across him somewhere else. While he'd been talking with Rob, maybe, or just now on her way back from supper. The idea that just talking with Cross could have her so jubilant made him want to vomit. He'd barely seen her all day, barely had a chance to talk with her at all, and he found himself thinking that it just wasn't fair. He should have woken her that morning, asked her to stay in and chat instead of go out and run. They could have had the common room to themselves for the better part of an hour.

'You're frowning again,' Ze sighed, and Sirius jumped when he discovered that her voice was so close because her head was nearly on his shoulder. 'What's the matter?'

'Nothing,' he replied automatically.

Ze opened her mouth, and then snapped it closed again. 'Okay,' she said a moment later, but the brightness in her voice now sounded forced. 'What're you up to tonight then?'

Sirius suddenly wanted to ask her for a game of chess, or cards, or even twenty questions – anything that would involve not moving off this couch for the next several hours. But he had promised Prongs… 'I'm set to meet James,' he sighed, rubbing his eyes.

'Try not to burst with excitement, will you?' she chuckled.

She was very close now, and Sirius could smell her hair. It would be lovely, he thought, to snuggle his face down in it and just mumble all his cares out. 'You don't want to know,' he said instead. 'Actually, I don't know, so I should probably say you can't know, if I'm going to tell the truth.'

'You've agreed to meet James, and you don't know what you're doing?' Now she was sitting up, her expression plainly telling him that, not only was he dumb, he was quite possibly dead – he just wasn't lying down yet. 'Have you got the words "man with a death wish" tattooed somewhere I don't know about?'

'If I say yes, will you agree to go looking for them?' his libido had asked before his brain could get back from picking out coffins.

Her eyes skimmed hotly over his torso, and he could have sworn she licked her lips. But when she looked back up she was smiling, laughing Ze, no hint of hunger in sight. 'Only if I get to take photos.'

He was just opening his mouth to form a reply when a voice – a female voice – called. 'Ze! Oi, there you are – come on! We haven't got all night.' And then Serena was there, tugging on Ze's arm and pulling her off the couch. 'Mind if I steal her, Sirius?' Serena was burbling. 'We've got a whole concept to plan, and shoes to pick out, and eyebrows to pluck – we'll be lucky to sleep at all!'

'Concept?' Ze said weakly.

'Eyebrows?' Sirius echoed.

'Nothing is happening to my eyebrows,' Ze said firmly, apparently having missed that before, having been hung up on "concept".

Serena pursed her lips and finally shrugged. 'They're nice enough as they are – you can get by. Now come on – Lily's got us some butterbeers and Dorcas is rigging up music. I've been thinking about what we should put you in…' she continued chattering, drawing Ze away.

Ze allowed herself to be pulled, but turned to grimace comically over her shoulder. 'Sorry,' she mouthed to Sirius.

He felt his lips quirking in a smile in spite of himself. 'Have fun!' he called.

'You too,' she grinned back. 'Don't do anything I wouldn't do!'

Sirius chuckled. And then Serena said, 'I've asked around, and Colin's favourite colour is green –' and the laughter died right off.

*.

'Of course it'd be raining,' Remus muttered blackly, shuffling the deck of cards that now seemed inseparable from his hands.

An hour had passed since Ze had been pulled upstairs, but Sirius hadn't left the couch. Even now he didn't bother to look up, only uttering an all-purpose grunt to acknowledge that he'd heard.

'It is letting up a bit,' Peter panted, taking a break from kicking his heels together to an inaudible Highland reel to look out the window. 'Hardly misting now.'

'It's the principle of the thing,' Remus snapped, dealing a rapid hand of solitaire across the table.

'You're sure he said we'd be outside?' Sirius asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the girl's stair and his mind from what was going on at the top of it.

'"Under the open skies" was how he put it,' Remus grumbled, sweeping two aces to the top with one deft move.

'Ready?' James asked brightly from behind them. They turned to find him, beaming widely, a rucksack on his back, his feet encased in a pair of wellies.

'No,' they chorused.

'Well come on then,' he said, positively bouncing. 'Loads to do…'

Grumbling darkly, they all stood, gathering cloaks and checking for wands. Once there was nothing else to stall with, they fell into a ragged line for the most unenthusiastic inspection in Marauder history. Remus wasn't even interested in playing drill sergeant. 'Oh, let's just get on with it,' he said impatiently without so much as a glance at their supplies. James looked faintly disappointed, but fell into the front of the line to lead them away.

'Where, exactly, are we going?' Remus asked as they clambered out of the portrait hole.

'Outside,' James replied in a low voice, nodding to the fifth year prefect, who was watching them narrowly. 'We've got,' he consulted his watch, 'quarter of an hour before they start doing rounds, so we need to get a move on.'

This, at least, they could do. No one moved more stealthily through Hogwarts Castle than a Marauder on a Mission. It didn't particularly matter that they were less than thrilled about said Mission – there were standards to keep up, and they'd be damned if they were going to lag behind. What none of the paused to consider was the fact that, at any normal time, they would have regarded the entire thing as a great adventure. Sneaking around, secret rituals – these were things they specialised in. They might not have written the book, but they had drawn the map, and they knew that no one else could compete. Tonight, however, more than the rain was dampening their spirits. There was no idle chatter, no pumping adrenaline and no sense of clandestine adventure. Rather than travelling as a cohesive whole they were making their stealthy way through the corridors as four separate entities – Remus's fingers were twitching as he played a card game against himself; Peter kept muttering a count-off, his knees bouncing up far too high for safety. Sirius and James were each lost in their own thoughts, the former glowering blackly at the end of his own nose, and the latter gleefully imagining how successful this plan was going to be.

As they slipped form the castle, using their much-practised combat rolls just because they could, there was no palpable increase in excitement. The rain had, indeed, given way to a light mist, and then stopped entirely in favour of a dense fog rolling off the lake. In silence, the four boys passed the black, still water, following James. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, leading them further and further from the school, and closer and closer to the verge of the forest. Sirius, sensing that it was either drum up some enthusiasm or face the next hour dripping wet, cleared his throat.

'So,' he said casually, navigating his way round a large rock, 'what're we out here doing. Exactly.'

James glanced over his shoulder and grinned. 'Initiating ourselves into one of the most ancient mysteries on the planet.'

'Didn't we do that back in third year?' Remus asked.

'Yeah,' Peter said glumly. 'We got chased by that bull, remember?'

A brief cloudbreak showed James's ears turning pink in the moonlight. 'Yes, well, this a bit more complicated. And important,' he hastened to add.

'Yes, but what is it?' Sirius pressed, hoping for something fantastic to take his mind off…things.

They didn't need moonlight now to see James's blush. 'A fehrhtmmign,' he mumbled.

'Sorry, didn't catch that,' Peter called up.

'A fertility ritual,' James admitted, clearing his throat and forging on ahead. He stopped a few steps later when he realised that no one was following. He turned back and asked, 'What?'

'He's lost it,' Remus mumbled hopelessly. 'Gone completely round the bend…'

Peter edged a step further away. 'Think the matron could handle him, or will we have to call in St Mungos –'

'I am not mental!' James shouted. 'I am not!'

'Oooh, very convincing rebuttal,' Sirius muttered sarcastically.

'What makes you think I've lost it – '

'We're male, James!' Remus cried. 'All of us! You can't have a fertility ritual with just blokes! And if you're planning to – well, that is not my game –'

'Alright alright,' James said impatiently. 'No one's going to be – be –' he broke off, at a loss for words. 'There isn't going to be any actual, er, fertilisation, okay? This is more of, um, well…this is sort of the ceremony that gets done before the fertility ritual. What it actually is is a rite that calls the women out to, er, play, if you will.'

The other three stared back at him in patent disbelief – and more than a little disgust. 'James,' Sirius began heavily, 'you can't honestly think –'

'Look, we're almost there, okay? Just give me half an hour,' he pleaded. 'Just half an hour, I promise…' James never pleaded. Ever. Not even with Lily Evans. Exchanging yet another glance chock full of scpticism and worry, the other three nodded. 'Thank you,' James said, blowing out a deep breath. 'Come on then – this way –'

They walked for perhaps another ten minutes, further and further from the lights of Hogwarts, and deeper and deeper into the fog. The trees got taller, older, cropping up on either side of them until they walked through something that wasn't so much a forest as a thin grove. Below them the lights of the village glowed dimly in the fog, too far away to realise into windows and streetlamps, but close enough to dispel the shivers inherent to walking on even the edge of the Forbidden Forest. When they had got nearly to the edge of the school grounds James paused at last. The other three shifted slightly, eyeing what was before them.

A spur of trees ran along the edge of the lake, nearly encircling a small grassy space, and were the mist not clouding their view, they could have seen straight down toward Hogsmeade. But standing in the way, jutting eerily out of the fog like half-fallen sentinels, were several enormous stones ranged in a loose circle, their faces blued with lichen and moss. The clouds broke for a moment over the moon and they were bathed in a flash of silver light, menacing and hulking. 'Oh god,' Remus mumbled.

'I've just remembered – homework-' Peter began, eyeing the trees fearfully and turning on his heel.

But James caught him by the collar and held him back. 'Oh no you don't – you promised. Now, listen up. I've got everything together…' he rummaged in the rucksack, which he had settled on the ground. 'Torches,' he said, holding up four cloth-wrapped sticks, probably pinched from corridor sconces. 'And vervain and acorns,' he tossed two small parcels onto the grass. 'And firewood.' He flicked his wand, and a pile of dry, heavy sticks rattled over the ground in the centre of the circle of standing stones. 'Alright, we're each going to light a torch, see, and then we'll build a fire, and say the incantation while we throw the acorns and the vervain into it, and then we dance around it, right?'

He looked up to find his three friends watching him with more than sceptical faces. 'Right?' he repeated hopefully.

There was a long silence. 'Prongs,' Sirius finally said, 'it took you three days to come up with this?'

'Well, yes –' James began, pushing his glasses up.

'Three days?' Remus repeated. 'For – for acorns and firewood?'

'Look, it's complicated –'

'And you want us to dance?' Sirius interrupted, incredulous.

'Well…'

'Prongs, this is mad.'

'Yeah,' Peter concurred. 'Completely!'

'But –'

'We are standing in the dark, in the fog, talking about dancing -'

'It's ancient magic!' James cried. 'Really, really old stuff, okay? It's the fertility dance, or mating ritual, or whatever you want to call it, but the point is, when the men dance it the women haven't got any choice – they've got to be turned on. You do it every month, to ensure that the race is preserved, because otherwise no one would ever want to have kids, yeah? They've been doing it here for thousands of years, and all that magic is built right into the rocks, and if we start it up – if we do it right - then it's got to work! That's why it took me so long, see, I had to make sure I'd got all the details, because if we do it wrong, well…'

'We'd just be dancing around a fire for no reason?' Remus suggested snidely. James glared.

Sirius, sensing that this was actually important to James – desperation, it seemed, had taken its toll – decided to intervene. 'But if we do it right,' he said, and James shot him a grateful look, 'then, well, we'll have girls all over us, right?'

'Yeah, but we can't do anything about it –' Peter started to point out, but Sirius interrupted, as this was absolutely no time for sense.

'I say we do it,' he said firmly.

Remus caught his eye, and, after a moment, sighed. 'Well, it isn't like we've got anything else to do tonight…'

'Alright,' Peter said, shooting another glance into the Black Forest. 'As long as I don't have to start the fire.'

'Excellent,' James aid, rubbing his hands together. 'Right then, get your kit off.'

'What?'

'Here now, you never said nothing about –'

'Come off it, we've seen one another naked loads of times,' James said impatiently.

'Yeah, but that's showers and stuff. Not…dancing.'

'You're sure,' Remus asked, 'that people really did this? This isn't just some joke, is it?'

'No,' James snapped. 'It's all written down – here, have a look.' And with that he pulled the book out of his bag and opened it to a marked page. 'See?' They all crowded round to look. 'It's all spelled out,' he said, his finger hovering over an illustration. 'The ancient rite of men calling to women to mate. Just like us!'

'James, they've got wings on!' Sirius shouted, pressing his nose practically to the page to make sure he was seeing right.

'They're faeries!' Peter cried, confirming his worst fears.

James's cheeks flushed. 'Yes, well –'

'You want us to do the Mating Dance of the bloody Welsh Pictsies?' Remus asked, aghast. 'We're in Scotland!'

'No, no, humans do it too! Look, we just learned it from them –'

It took several minutes of arguing, a torch so they could read the fine print, and then several promises of never-ending friendship if they would just do this one small thing. And so, at a quarter past eleven, there was a fire lit in the centre of the stone circle, and four very sheepish boys were holding lit torches, trying very hard to pretend that they weren't naked. 'At least there's no moon,' Remus mumbled.

Sirius didn't bother to point out that they were holding torches and standing around a bonfire - at this point, pretending to be invisible was as good as it got. 'So,' he said, 'what d'we do now?'

James was shuffling a handful of prompt cards. 'Okay,' he said. 'now we each take a handful of the vervain – that's the dry leaves –' Rolling their eyes, each boy took a handful of the crumbling herbs. 'And three acorns.' Dutifully, they scooped these up as well. 'Right, now I'm going to pass you what you've got to say – that's why there have to be four of us, four things to say –'

A stack of cards made the round, reaching Sirius last. 'So,' James continued, taking a deep breath. 'Remus you'll start – just read what's on your card, but try to mean it, you know, and then toss your stuff onto the fire. And then Pete, and then Sirius, and then me – and we all read and toss,' he made a few useless gestures of description. 'And then we hold hands and, er, dance.'

'Hold hands!'

'Prongs, I'm serious –'

'Oh, let's just get on with it,' Sirius groaned. 'I'm freezing my bloody bollocks off here.'

Remus shivered. 'Fine,' he snapped. 'I'm starting.' And with that, he cleared his throat. 'I –'

'Torch up,' James urged out of the corner of his mouth.

Remus shot him a glare, raised his torch up and shot James the Raised Eyebrow of Sardonic Question, to which James nodded. '"I",' Remus began again, '"the flesh and spirit of man, my feet sunk deep in soil, my arm raised up to sky" – Look, this is absolute rubbish,' he interrupted himself. 'No one in his right mind – at least, no one sober - would ever say this –'

'Just get on with it!' Sirius snarled.

'Fine. "My arm raised up to sky, I take upon my shoulders the ancient burden of –'

'D'you hear that?' This time it was Peter, and he was glancing nervously into the trees. 'Sounds like drums or something –'

'Belt up, Pete,' Remus groaned. 'Or I'll never get through this. Where was I? Oh, yeah "-ancient burden of procreation" _'

'I hear it to,' Sirius said, looking up. 'Listen –'

'The only thing I can hear,' Remus growled, 'is two stupid gits who're about to have their bollocks –' But he stopped dead when something whistled past his ear, burying itself into the earth behind him with a thunk.

'Oh piss,' Peter whispered, looking perilously close to doing just that. The sound was unmistakable now, but it wasn't drums it was –

'Hoofbeats!' James hissed.

'Centaurs!' Sirius confirmed a moment later, his eyes catching glints of light reflecting off of their flanks as they ran through the trees. It was far too dark to be counting bodies, but by the sound of it this wasn't just one or two renegades. There was a moment where the four boys froze, desperately trying to alter reality so that they weren't standing bare-arsed in the woods, clutching torches, whilst a herd of murderous man-beasts ran toward them clutching weapons. And then another arrow zoomed out of the woods, followed by what were definitely war cries, and the moment broke. 'They must've seen the fire – you know what they're like about humans!' Sirius shouted. 'Run!'

They split in four directions, cursing and snarling, running for their lives. Sirius dropped his torch immediately, and attempted to scrabble up his robes in the belief that dying naked should only happen if you went in a bed. Behind him a wild voice cried "Try to take over our wood, you bloody humans!", quickly followed by the twang of a bowstring. Sirius gave up on his clothes and pelted into the darkness. Behind him in the mist he could hear shouts and yells, but none of them sounded like his friends. The blood was pounding in his brain and he could hear hooves chasing after him, so he tore on through the darkness, ignoring rocks under his feet and branches whipping his face. His runs with Ze had given him a bit of stamina, but the fog was impossible to see through, and he blindly tumbled through the woods and then out into what felt like a meadow.

Behind him there was a crashing, followed by some very fluent curses, but Sirius didn't bother to turn. He couldn't see a bloody thing, but the same sense that had saved his distant low-browed ancestors from being devoured by saber-tooth tigers was telling that if he stopped now, he was nothing but a midnight snack. Putting on another burst of speed, he careened through the grass and collided with what felt alarmingly like a shrubbery. Cursing and thrashing, he passed through walls of scratching, prickling hedge and fell to the ground, finally rolling to a stop. For a moment he lay completely still, registering that the pounding he was hearing was of his blood in his ears, not hoofbeats chasing him. Panting heavily, he looked up to see that there were lights ahead – close ahead. And more of them were appearing. Have I got back to the castle? he thought desperately. Is everyone going to see?. And then the moon filtered from behind a cloud again, and he looked around to see hedges, and flowerbeds, and the world's most terrifying water nymph, cast out of plaster.

Oh fuck, I'm in someone's garden, which means I've run the other way, which means I'm in the village – This thought powered him to his feet in spite of myriad cuts and bruises.

Ahead of him a door creaked open, and he immediately froze, praying the moon would go back behind a cloud… 'I'm telling you, it's those blasted gnomes again,' an ancient, cracking voice called. 'Come and see if I'm right!'

Sirius attempted to edge toward a large flowering shrub, but was foiled by a low-built birdbath-cum-sundial that sent him tumbling to the ground once more. Scrabbling desperately, attempting to crawl, his foot tangled in the crystal-dangling wires atop the birdbath, he managed to get a few metres across the ground before the first voice was joined by a second.

'Muriel, you daft old bat, you're seeing things again. I'm ninety-two and can't be having with all this nonsense. What did I tell you about the cooking sherry? Come back inside this instant-'

'I've got one!' the first voice cackled. 'Look, the birdbath trap's finally worked!'

Trap? Sirius thought, desperately wrestling to get his foot out.

'I can hear it tinkling. Should be just around that rhododendron-'

He could hear movement, muffled by the fog, coming closer, and he struggled harder, but nothing was giving.

'Looks a bit big for a gnome,' the first speaker, Muriel, chortled. 'Do you see that foot, Millicent – a foot that size means his wife's a lucky woman –'

'I'll thank you not to pretend to know things you don't,' Millicent, sounding the very image of a maiden aunt, snapped. But she, too, seemed to be coming closer. 'You're an unmarried woman, Muriel Featherton, and I remember that even if you don't!'

And then, looming out of the mist like ship prows gliding on the high seas, two figures appeared before him, peering myopically into the dark. He could see dresses and hairstyles that hadn't been in style since the previous century, and two pairs of pointy-toed button-up boots that sent shivers of primordial fear shooting down his psine. The moon, devious minx that she was, chose that moment to glide from behind the sheltering clouds and beam smugly down on the garden, casting everything in sheer relief. 'Oh my,' Muriel said, her eyes clapping on him.

'That's not a gnome,' Millicent's voice boomed out.

Sirius's hands instinctively clamped over his crotch. 'There is,' he said, 'a very good explanation for this.' He looked back and forth between their expressions, between delight and horror. 'I'll, ah, I'll just let you know when I've thought it up, shall I?'