Remus
"Pads, wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup!"
"Huh? W's g'w'n 'n? G'way."
"You asked for it." I take a flying leap at him and land on his chest. As usual, his eyes shoot open and he scrabbles at me, trying to push me off and failing dismally. His eyes are bleary, his hair resembles a large porcupine and he's beautiful.
"Ok, ok, I'm up. Sheeesh…" I clamber off him and he instantly snuggles back down into the warm blankets. I grab them and yank them off him, watching in silent laughter as goose bumps erupt on his bare skin. He shivers. "Th…that's c…c…cruel, M…moony…"
"I am cruel."
"But I love you anyway."
"I know."
---
As we walk down to the hall, surreptitiously holding hands, I feel so happy. But my mood wanes fast as I catch sight of Michael coming from Ravenclaw… hoping he doesn't see me, I quicken my pace.
"Steady on, Moony, the food can wait a bit. Some of us don't like moving at three thousand miles an hour at stupid-o'clock in the morning." James grabs the back of my robes, hauling me backwards. I struggle to escape, but Sirius loops his hand around my tie. I now have a Beater hauling on my neck and a James holding my back. I have no choice but to give up before I asphyxiate.
"Right." I say as soon as Sirius loosens his grip enough to let me breathe. "You two will pay for that. Later."
"Why later? Breakfast won't run away."
I look around. No sign of Michael. Good. I poke Sirius in the stomach. "It might if it sees you coming, you greedy pig. I swear I've seen you eat a meal fit for a giant and wash it down with several barrels of Butterbeer. How the hell are you not as fat as a…a…a very fat thing?"
"I exercise, Remus."
"What, exactly, are you implying, Mr Padfoot?"
"Nothing really, Mr Moony."
"You'd better not be."
Laughing and jostling each other, the Marauders make their stately way through the enormous wooden doors as people completely fail to stare in awe. We shove up a few younger kids, with Sirius' not quite unkind "Shift, midgets," which causes me to yank his ponytail. He looks at me balefully. "What was that for?"
"Don't call them midgets."
His protests of "But they ARE!" are cut short by a tap on my shoulder, which causes me to jump out of my skin and pull a clump of black hair out of Sirius' scalp. Michael stands behind me, smiling sheepishly. I desperately try not to make eye contact.
"Um…can I sit here? I know that I'm not a Gryffindor, but there's no room on my table." I look over to the Ravenclaw table. A good half the benches are empty. He looks even more embarrassed. "Or you're the only people who don't hate me. Sorry. I'll go back." I look at the fresh bruises on his face, what looks like a broken blood vessel in his eye, and I feel sorry for him, despite all that's happened. After all, it wasn't his fault.
Responding to my psychic plea, Sirius shifts over grudgingly, allowing the blonde to slip in between him and James, although he keeps very close to may, making it abundantly clear that I belong to him. I'm not happy with this possessiveness, but I guess it's my fault, so I don't make a fuss.
As I eat, I look down the long table. Sirius, Remus and Peter shovel food down their throats as if there was no tomorrow, or at least no lunchtime, while Lily looks on in disgust. Several sixth-years look quite unhappy to see the skinny Ravenclaw amongst us, picking at his bacon nervously. Strictly speaking, it is against the rules, but who cares?
Staring down the table, I almost get an eyeful of beak and feathers as the first of the post plunges in through the window and glides down the table. I'm sure it's not hygienic to have random birds flying through the food, but fly they do. Quite a lot of them. A large silver-grey owl drops a brown envelope on the table in front of Michael as it swoops past, rejoining the throng.
"Hey look, guys, Clarke's got a letter."
A burly sixth year opposite us seizes it, snatching it out from under Michael's reaching hand and waving it triumphantly. He makes a grab for it, but the older boy holds it out of his reach, passing it to his friend. Reaching for it, he makes another futile attempt to recover it. "That's mine!"
The seventeen-year-olds laugh at him. "It landed on our table, so it's ours. You don't belong here. Go back to where you should be." It's clear they don't mean the Ravenclaw table.
Sirius turns to Michael. "I'd like to make it clear I am not doing this because I like you. I'm doing this to make Remus happy, got it?" With that, he reaches over the table, grabbing the older boy by the neck of his robes. "You don't belong here either, if that's your attitude. You don't deserve the name Gryffindor! Give Clarke his letter back, Burrell, you bastard! What the fuck's your problem?"
The other boy's friends rise as Burrell scowls. "What's my problem, Black? He's my problem. That…animal. He shouldn't be in a school with normal people. It's dangerous."
Sirius looks at me in confusion. I mouth the word "werewolf". His brow furrows further in anger as he turns to face the sixth-years, and his voice is pure venom. "You know nothing, do you, you idiots? It doesn't matter if he's a human or a werewolf or a vampire or whatever the fuck else, it doesn't give you the right to fuck him around. You mess with Clarke, you mess with me, got it?"
The older boys laugh, miming shivering. "Oooh, we're really scared now. The kid's gonna kill us. I'm shitting myself here." Burrell leans so far forward I can see his spit land on Sirius' impassive face. "Get lost, midget, or someone's going to get hurt."
I can't stand it any more. If Sirius is strong enough to stand up and fight, so am I. The Sorting Hat put me in Gryffindor for a reason, after all. Pushing the bench outwards, I arise next to my boyfriend. "You hurt Sirius and I'll make your life hell."
James joins us. "You know the meaning of the word friendship, Burrell? It means that if you hurt one of us the rest of us will hunt you down and you'll never sleep soundly again."
"Damn straight." Lily stands up next to him.
"Uh…yeah…" Pete says, sounding about as threatening as a paper bag.
There are quite a lot of murmurs of assent from the rest of the table. Between them, Sirius, James and Lily are friends with most of Gryffindor, and it's quite clear who's in the wrong if you look at it simply.
Outnumbered and defeated, the older boys scowl. "Fine then, have your fucking letter, animal!" Burrell rips the envelope in half and throws the pieces at Michael, who's looking pretty shell-shocked, with tears in his eyes and a frozen look of disbelief on his face. The older boy scowls sourly. "This isn't over, Black."
"Yes it is. Mr Burrell, Mr Black, please report to my classroom at once. Mr Clarke, please return to your table."
Sirius looks behind him. "Oh, hi, Minnie."
"At ONCE, Mr Black."
McGoogles looks back over her shoulder as she sweeps from the room. As Sirius gets up to follow her, I swear I catch an indulgent twinkle in the Professor's eye.
Once the three have left the hall, Michael turns to me, tears spilling over and running down his cheeks.
"Are you OK, Michael?"
He grins happily. "I'm more than OK. You guys are the best." As his face gets steadily wetter, his grin just gets bigger. He picks up his plate and climbs over the bench, which is still at about 45 degrees to the table from everyone standing up at one end. "Meet you in the library later, then?"
"I guess."
I watch Michael's retreating back, and I think of Sirius' defiance.
"I'm doing this to make Remus happy"He was thinking of me, not Michael, as soon as I said werewolf. That was what made his attack so impassioned. Like he said, he was doing it for me, not Michael. And I love him for being so strong. There's no way he takes after his family, if he acts like that.
Thanks, Sirius.
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See? It's not finished. I have many more plans. First on my list is letting Michael live happily ever after :) And rest assured that when I am done, you will receive due warning. You'll get an epilogue and everything!
Argh…my arm hurts :( I got my polio jab at school today and I am not a happy bunny. It feels like someone hit my shoulder really hard.
Ah well…
Hope you enjoyed the chappie! I really should do some homework now. sweatdrop
Michael and Burrell, the good and the ugly, belong to me, the bad.
And other stuff belongs to JK Rowling.