A/N: In which a confrontation takes place, and it leads to a moment that Vivian is not expecting.
x3sunnydaay: He's getting there. This chapter will be a pretty major turning point, for reasons you'll soon discover!
DarkLordofMemes: Agreed! James knows what he's talking about
gwenwesley: He's definitely way more unsure that he usually is when it comes to her! More nervous/bashful Sirius will be coming at some point in the near future
Toffeeloveryes: Funny how you phrase it like that... ;D
AnnaPansy: She is very stubborn, that's true! This chapter should diffuse some of the tension, though. It's just the first step, but we're getting there! The next update will have a lot more on the romance front
JuniKitty4427: Thank you! I wish I could post a new chapter every day! I'm glad you like the story :)
Chrysanthemum: I may eventually go this route but I haven't decided yet. It would definitely complicate the plot, especially for what I have planned for Season 2. I have specific ideas for what Vivian will be up to whilst Sirius is in Azkaban, so potential babies may have to wait a while (but I do think Sirius would be such a great dad so I haven't written off the idea yet)
Marnie Quiera: I'm thinking that the latter is more likely lol
Guest1515: Lol ;) Honestly though I don't think public humiliation is in the cards. I love Gavin too much to do that to him. Plus by now Sirius knows that Vivian would kick his ass if he tried it. Can't make any promises about Sirius not being jealous, but I doubt anyone has a problem with that!
Guest13: I'll be a good thing though, this time ;)
Guest: That's a good idea! It is a long way off still but I'll have to keep that in mind. It would be fun to go back in time to their school days. As for Vivian being Harry's godmother, I honestly haven't given it much thought. It would be the natural course of action so it's very likely that she will be, but I think Harry will still end up growing up with the Dursleys, for reasons I won't spoil quite yet. I have plans for Vivian's path!
remifoster1313: I have a pretty good idea what will happen with the agent, it just depends on how it will all work out. A few things regarding the romance arc need to happen first! But after this chapter, things will be progressing on that front, so it's only a matter of time. Love the thought of Gavin and Vivian opening their own book shop in the future though! I still don't have a concrete outline figured out for that part of the story, so we shall see what happens. I'm thinking that Vivian might be off doing other things at that point but who knows?
I am really excited to hear all of your thoughts once you read this chapter ;)
Chapter Forty Seven | Satis verborum
[Enough of words]
Over the next day, Vivian's avoidance of Mulciber and his friends is quite successful. She arrives in class early and is in her seat before he steps into the room. She leaves as soon as the bell rings, ducking back into the hallway before he can stop her. She heads to lunch when she knows that he isn't around, and goes to great lengths to either avoid the common room altogether or to wrangle one of her friends into checking for his presence before she enters or exits it.
"I get that you don't like him, but shouldn't you at least make an effort to get to know him properly? You are marrying him after graduation, aren't you?" Narcissa complains that afternoon after she had been the target of said espionage.
Vivian scowls at her. "We're technically betrothed, I guess," she grudgingly admits. "But there's no way I'm marrying him."
Narcissa is understandably confused by this. To be fair, Vivian isn't the most forthcoming person, and she keeps private matters to herself whenever possible. She doesn't typically talk after personal matters to any of her Slytherin friends, either. The reason for this is, in part, because she isn't generally an open person, and also because she doesn't want any of her opinions to reach the ears of her parents.
"I don't understand," Narcissa says as she follows Vivian out of the dormitories. This time of day, it's relatively quiet. Classes ended a few hours ago and it's nearing dinner time. Most of the students are hanging out in other areas of the castle or are already in the Great Hall, with the exception of a few who have set up to tackle homework assignments. With the heavy NEWT workload on her shoulders, Vivian should probably be one of them, but to be honest, she isn't all that concerned with her marks at this point – much to Gavin's disapproval.
Vivian snorts and makes her way through the common room. The winter sun has already set, and the windows that look out into the Black Lake are dark and fathomless. She takes a quick glance around the room to ensure that Narcissa hadn't lied to her about Mulciber's lack of presence, and, satisfied, ducks out of the common room with her friend on her heels.
"He's foul and I want nothing to do with him. How is that hard to understand?" Vivian questions. She heads down the dungeon corridor, intent on going to dinner. Since it's early still, she doubts that any of the people she's avoiding will be there yet.
Narcissa sighs, falling into step beside her. "Well I suppose he isn't the best candidate, but it's not like you actually have a choice, Vivian. I'm sure your parents are already making plans. And anyway, it's not as if this is sudden or anything. Marriage has always been in the cards for us."
Vivian would like to point out that, while this is true, it's such an archaic tradition and she doesn't appreciate being bartered and sold to the highest bidder. She'd like to say that Narcissa wouldn't understand anyway, because she's always wanted to marry Lucius (despite recent revelations regarding his hair), and that she's never had a problem with the idea of getting married so young. But she doesn't point any of that out, because when the pair of them turn the corner, she finds that she doesn't have a chance to.
Adrian is standing in the middle of the corridor in front of them, his back turned towards Vivian. As usual, he's with his usual group of friends. Rosier is hanging back a bit with Severus and Regulus, while Avery and Lucius seem to be seconds away from procuring their wands. The hallway is tense, and the reason for the seemingly imminent dispute is because of one red-head who is facing them down with a stormy expression blazing over her face.
Lily Evans looks about ready to throttle them. Her face is nearly as red as her hair, no doubt due to something that Adrian or one of his groupies had said. Since attaining Head Girl status, she isn't an easy target because of the power she wields, but over the course of the year, the Slytherins have gradually become more callous where it concerns the rules of Hogwarts. Whatever flimsy shard of respect or recognition they had possessed before has steadily vanished as the end of the school year grows nearer.
Now, considering that Vivian has been going to extra lengths to ensure that she successfully avoids Mulciber, she's very much tempted to go back the way she'd come and take the long way around to the Great Hall. There are many other corridors that will bring her out of the dungeons, which she could easily use in order to continue avoiding her potential future husband. She's about to do just that, actually, when Adrian lets out a particularly scornful laugh and jeers, "Oh, have we made the little Mudblood upset? Are you gonna try to give us detentions? Take points away?"
Avery snickers and shivers dramatically. "Seeing the Mudblood at all is punishment enough."
"She's a disgusting little creature, isn't she?" Adrian returns, and nudges Lucius with a mean smirk.
Lily Evans is not the most sensitive sort of person. She's a Gryffindor, after all, and at the very least, she knows how to put on a brave face when the situation calls for it, regardless of whatever emotions she's feeling inside. It's obvious that she's putting on a brave face now, but it's also obvious that she's having a difficult time of it. There are cracks in her mask, and Slytherins are very good at picking up on such things.
"Oh no…I think we've hurt her feelings," Rosier drawls, sounding quite unremorseful. The only one who looks even a little bit hesitant about this situation is Snape, but that's hardly surprising. He's always had a thing for Lily Evans. But he doesn't step up to defend her, even when she sends a brief glance his way, and Lily doesn't seem like she's all that surprised when he remains silent.
Vivian, who is already beginning to backtrack her steps, pauses. She would never claim to be a saint. She isn't the sort of person to defend the weak, or whatever bullshit the Gryffindors like to spout. She has a much more black and white approach to life, which is of course that if you can't defend yourself, you shouldn't expect anyone else to jump to your aid. This is why she's so perplexed when her black and white approach suddenly clashes with her actions. After all, as a general rule of thumb, Slytherins don't typically take a stance against their own – especially to support a member of a rival house.
"You lot must be completely stupid, going up against the Head Girl like this," she declares, and meanders her way up the corridor as if she had meant to all along, despite her close decision to take a different path. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her robes, curls her fingers around her wand, and assumes a haughty expression as she comes to a stop beside Rosier. Narcissa follows, looking at Vivian with warning eyes.
It is a warning that is entirely disregarded.
Adrian sends her a smirking grin and chuckles, "Fancy joining the party, Vivian? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've been avoiding me."
Vivian doesn't look at him when she scorns, "I have been avoiding you, Mulciber. See, I personally find that being around someone with such a low IQ is a bit frustrating. Alright there, Evans?"
Lily stares at her. Vivian stares back, raising an eyebrow as if she's silently asking her what the big deal is. She can see Regulus sending her a frown from the corner of her eye, no doubt disapproving of her callousness, but it's Adrian's reaction that really matters. His expression turns dark and stormy. He surely doesn't appreciate her commentary, especially considering that they are technically betrothed. Besides the harm that his male ego has just suffered, it's also a matter of principle. Pureblood wives are generally seen as quiet and unassuming. There are, of course, a few exceptions (Bellatrix Lestrange comes to mind), but even those among them who are just as fierce as their husbands rarely have the audacity to call them out in such a way, and in public no less. There is a certain amount of decorum that is seldom overstepped, and even though Vivian is not Adrian Mulciber's wife, in his eyes she's as good as.
"You should probably leave, Evans," Vivian says, not gracing Mulciber with a look even though she can feel his stormy eyes on her this very second. "And you probably shouldn't come down here alone again."
Lily looks like she'd like to argue, because she does that Gryffindor thing when they're trying to wrangle their courage. Her shoulders set back and her chin lifts, her eyes blaze with fire and her hand tightens on her wand, and she looks like a lioness standing in a pit of snakes who are seconds away from lashing out – but thankfully, Lily Evans is intelligent, for a Gryffindor, and she knows when a battle is lost. Lioness or not, she couldn't possibly win against so many of them. Without a word, Lily turns on her heel and walks away, though not without a backwards glance at Vivian, who is now turning to face the consequences of her stupidity.
Mulciber looks beyond furious.
"I must be mistaken, but it looked like you were defending that Mudblood scum," he says, crossing his arms as he peers at her. His mouth is turned down into a tense frown. His displeasure is evident, obvious even, and though Vivian does seem to have the tendency of bringing said displeasure to the forefront, she isn't quite stupid enough to continue on that particular trajectory.
With a scoff, she mutters, "I wasn't defending her. You lot are just taking up the whole corridor with your spat and I'm trying to get to the Great Hall."
Adrian peers at her darkly. He doesn't seem to believe her entirely, and with some discomfort, Vivian can admit that she isn't surprised by this. She hasn't been all that smart with her dealings with him in the past. He knows about her fascination with muggle literature, and that she hangs out with Gavin with relative frequency, and that she doesn't stick her nose up at muggles in the same way he does. His expression is suspicious, as if he thinks that her defense of Lily Evans is a reflection of that wayward fascination.
"Do you actually expect me to believe that?" Mulciber drawls, calling her out. Vivian just raises an eyebrow at him, forcing her features to remain frozen. It's a technique that every pureblood worth their weight has perfected long before they become a teenager, but today it seems to be failing her. Adrian's eyes are smug and knowing, as if he sees right through her.
Help comes in an unlikely form when Regulus steps forward to say, "Lay off her, Adrian. You know how prickly Blair can be when someone gets in her way." He sends her a look that borders on sharp, as if his words are a warning and a judgement all in one. She battles away the frown that wants to overcome her face and doesn't respond.
Narcissa crosses her arms and adds, "There's no way Vivian would ever care about Evans. You're being completely ridiculous." But even as she says this, Narcissa's looks vaguely unsure. She glances over at Vivian as if she's trying to bolster her own conviction, and purses her mouth. Perhaps she's remembering the Slug Club party when Vivian had grudgingly agreed to keep Potter away from Evans for the evening. Or – perhaps the fact that Vivian's friendship with Gavin Clarke isn't exactly a secret. Whichever, she doesn't seem entirely convinced of her own words.
Vivian presses down the urge to shift on her feet, knowing that it would only make her discomfort more apparent. That's another thing that any pureblood – and Slytherin, for that matter – worth their weight learns early on: knowing when you've got the upper hand. She doesn't want Mulciber to think that he has it in this instance.
Narcissa's words do seem to have some sort of an effect on Adrian. It isn't really the words alone that are responsible for the way he steps forward to take Vivian's arm – rather, it's the reminder of her presence. He shoots a look at Lucius, who gives him a nod and loops an arm over Narcissa's shoulders. The next moment, he's leading her further down the hall, and though Narcissa looks like she wants to argue the move, she doesn't do anything but send Vivian one last glance.
The reasons for the sudden need for secrecy comes to light only moments later, once Narcissa and Lucius have disappeared.
"How is your task coming along?" Adrian wonders quietly. He still sounds a bit annoyed with her, but apparently a conversation about the Dark Lord is more important than whatever petty revenge he might have otherwise enacted. The others – Snape, Rosier, Avery, and Regulus – linger awkwardly a few steps away, pretending not to listen. Well, Snape and Rosier pretend. Regulus, for his part, just stands there stoically with his arms crossed and stares at Vivian as he waits for her response, and Avery merely sighs and strides off, evidently deciding that he has better things to do than linger in an empty corridor.
She hesitates, buying herself some time as she wrangles her arm out of Adrian's grasp, and impatiently mutters, "It's fine. Why is everyone being so nosy about it?" She meets Regulus's eyes over Mulciber's shoulder and sends him a narrowed look to make sure he knows she's referring to him. He just stoically blinks back and makes no indication that he had understood her reference even though he'd have to be an idiot not to.
Adrian crosses his arms and answers her question, even though it wasn't actually directed at him. "You're going to be my wife, Blair. I think I have the right to ask if you're mucking up a task that the Dark Lord himself has given you." When she falls into a petulant silence and doesn't respond, he grumbles, "Reg told you about the agent, then?"
Vivian sends another look at Regulus, who raises an eyebrow this time as if to ask what her problem is. When she turns her attention back to Mulciber, she impatiently snaps, "Yes, I know about the agent. Anything else?"
Adrian doesn't seem to like her tone, and really, she should know better than to rile Mulciber up like this, but it's difficult to speak to him without a thin veil of disdain coloring her voice. He is everything she hates: a Death Eater, a misogynist, and an arrogant arsehole who seems to think that he has intrinsic rights to her. Honestly, she almost wishes that her original betrothal hadn't been dissolved. She might not like Sirius Black all that much, but at least she can admit that she'd take him over Adrian Mulciber any day.
"There is something else, actually," Adrian snaps, thoroughly annoyed with her attitude. He glances over at his friends and says, "Narcissa has been asking questions that Lucius isn't ready to answer, so don't go around telling her or Flint anything about your task."
Vivian crosses her arms, mirroring him, and drawls, "Are you honestly telling me that Narcissa isn't aware that Lucius is a Death Eater?"
Apparently, her question is loud enough for the others to take offense, because Snape and Rosier immediately stop speaking amongst themselves to send her particularly hard looks, and Regulus's eyebrows turn down into a frown.
"Keep your voice down," Adrian hisses at her. "And no, she doesn't. He hasn't had the chance to tell her." When Vivian opens her mouth to question this, he impatiently adds, "And before you ask about the mark, there is such a thing as a concealment charm, Blair."
She rolls her eyes at him and mutters, "I wasn't going to ask about that. I just don't understand how he hasn't had the chance to tell her when they're practically attached at the hip. And why all the secrecy? She'll find out soon enough anyway."
Her questions don't seem to be granting her any bonus points, not that she cares. Mulciber looks about ready to shake her, which is probably why she ought to be thankful when Regulus steps forward to quietly intervene, "Cissy might be a Black, but she's not fully on board with us yet."
Really, Vivian should know better. She should keep her mouth shut and maintain her silence, as she's been striving to do for months now. But Merlin, the words just end up pouring from her lips before she even realizes she's saying them at all, and as she skewers Regulus with a look, she suddenly finds herself blurting, "Well I guess not everyone from the Noble House of Black is a fool, then."
Regulus's eyes flash into hers. It's painfully obvious that Vivian is not, in fact, talking about Narcissa. The two of them enter into a staring match, of sorts. Regulus's hands slowly curve into fists. He looks genuinely angry with her, but she can't bring herself to care.
Thankfully, no one but Regulus seems to be aware of the turn in conversation, because Adrian just snorts, "Lucius will tell Narcissa when he feels that it's best. In the meantime, keep your mouth shut and focus on your task."
Hearing the finality in his tone, Vivian breaks the staring contest she's having with Regulus and sarcastically responds, "Fine, I won't tell her. Now am I allowed to go to dinner?"
But Slytherins – even the ones with questionable IQ – have this tendency of seeing through things. Mulciber narrows his eyes at her and reiterates, "You can't tell anyone."
She sighs at him as if she thinks he's being a git (she does, in fact, think he's being a git), and shoulders her way past him. As she begins to stride off, she scorns, "I won't."
She actually means it, too. The only person she would ever consider speaking with about her task has already been informed, and there isn't anyone else that needs to know. There's just one problem, though, and it comes in the form of one red-haired Head Girl. Vivian picks up her pace as she rounds the corner, intent on getting to the Great Hall. She's not very hungry after that conversation, but a cup of tea sounds heavenly. It's as she's passing the tapestry with the herd of unicorns that her hopes of said tea are squashed.
See, Vivian Blair isn't used to being accosted and dragged into alcoves, regardless of how often she may or may not do it to one Gavin Clarke. It's the principle of it all, really, that promptly makes Vivian reach for her wand even as Lily Evans releases the wrist she had captured.
"Sorry – sorry," Lily splutters, seeing the threatening way Vivian is narrowing her eyes at her.
She leans out into the corridor to see if they're alone. As she does, Vivian snaps, "What are you doing?" and forgoes her wand to instead spear Lily with her best Slytherin glare.
Honestly. Gryffindors.
Lily shuffles awkwardly on her feet and, in a low voice, whispers, "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. And to thank you for helping me." The thanks is hastily added on, no doubt due to the thoroughly unimpressed way Vivian is glowering at her.
"I can handle Mulciber," Vivian dryly informs her, crossing her arms as she assesses the Head Girl with a doleful look. "…Just don't spread this around the school, Evans. I have a reputation to uphold."
A reputation that really shouldn't be shaken, considering the thin layer of ice she's currently walking on in regards to her task. It's getting a bit exhausting, actually, to portray herself this way.
For Lily's part, she admittedly does look a bit chagrined at having accosted Vivian in this manner, and sends her a grimaced smile. "Right. Okay." Then, after a beat of silence, she can't seem to help but blurt out, "Are you really going to marry him?" And Vivian, surprised that she would ask and suddenly more than a little concerned that she had overheard her conversation with her fellow Slytherins, stares at her with pursed lips.
Lily hurries to say, "Sorry, it's just that there've been rumors about it. The whole pureblood betrothal thing really doesn't make sense to me."
At this, Vivian snorts and mutters, "Yeah, well, that makes two of us. I mean, Flint is betrothed to Dolohov, of all people. If that's not fucked up, I don't know what is."
She shoulders her way out of the alcove. Lily hastens to follow, falling into step beside Vivian as she continues on her way to the Great Hall. Walking next to Lily Evans is a bit strange, really, but after a few corridors of awkward conversation, the oddity of the situation fades away.
"So have you always been betrothed to Mulciber, then? Is that why you're so nonchalant about it all?" Lily wonders.
Vivian rolls her eyes. "Of course not. This whole thing only just happened over Christmas break."
If Lily notices the way she evades the question just a little bit, she doesn't show it and Vivian doesn't offer up any other information regarding her first betrothal. They round the corner and see the doors of the Great Hall before them, opened up to students. Because she'd been dragged into a conversation by her Slytherin housemates and then dragged into an alcove by a Gryffindor, she's no longer early to dinner. Most of the castle has already congregated inside.
"That makes sense, I guess," Lily muses as they approach the doors. "Thanks again, for helping me back in the dungeons. I don't think they would have responded to detention threats."
Vivian pauses in the doorway and glances over at Lily. Her voice is slightly more serious when she responds, "I might not be around the next time, so don't go wandering around down there again."
"I was on my way to Slughorn's office. I didn't think it'd be a big deal," Lily sighs.
"You're a muggleborn," Vivian shrugs. "You should take more precautions."
Lily looks vaguely offended at having her blood status brought up so breezily, but Vivian doesn't stick around to soothe the perceived insult. She hadn't meant it to be an insult anyway, and doesn't particularly feel the need to defend herself against someone who had dragged her rather rudely into an alcove, despite their slightly more pleasant dialogue after the incident. Vivian just sends Lily one last glance before striding off to the Slytherin table and finding an empty seat.
As for Lily…
"Lily! Lily!"
She sighs and skewers a sharp look at the four Marauders, who are sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table. James and Sirius blink at her innocently. Of course, there is nothing innocent about those two, which is probably why Remus is sending her an apologetic look.
"What?" she asks impatiently, pausing beside them as she looks around for Marlene. The only reason she is humoring them is because it hadn't actually been James who had called her, and she's a bit curious to find out what Sirius wants.
"What happened? Why were you with Vivian? What did she say to you? Why didn't you tell me you were friends with her? What – "
"Merlin's Beard, Sirius, take a breath already," Lily snaps, and collapses onto the bench. Sirius looks only slightly chagrined at his barrage of questions, and just waits impatiently for her to respond to them.
As his friend waits, James sees the opportunity presented to him and takes full advantage of his Lilyflower's presence, reaching over to start filling a plate for her in hopes that she'll stick around. Sirius joins in quickly, hoping for the same thing. He fully intends on questioning Lily until he gets all his answers or her impatience wins out – whichever comes first – and practically shoves a goblet of pumpkin juice at her. Lily heaves out a sigh and accepts the offering, though not without a sharp look sent in his direction.
"We just ran into each other is all. She got me out of a difficult situaton with the Slytherins. As for what we were talking about, it's hardly any of your business, Sirius," Lily says as she skewers James with a threatening look. He's busy piling enough mashed potatoes to feed three people onto her plate, whistling happily as he does. Whether he notices her look or not, it certainly isn't making him halt his efforts to make her stay. Of course, when he hears that the love of his life had been dealing with foul, loathsome Slytherins, he does pause.
"She saved you from her housemates?" he asks, raising his eyebrows as he resumes loading her plate with mashed potatoes.
Lily rolls her eyes and doesn't respond to him, apparently still annoyed with his latest stunt at the Slug Club party.
Sirius frowns and mumbles, "It is my business…" under his breath. Beside him, Peter sends Remus a look, which is returned with an eye roll.
"I really don't know what your problem is," Lily continues, ignoring Sirius's muttered words. "If you like Vivian as much as James says you do, just go up to her and ask her to Hogsmeade."
The suggestion garners two notable reactions from Sirius. The first is a glower sent to James, no doubt for gossiping about him to Lily. The second is a scoffed, "I can't do that. She'd reject me." This is coupled with a brooding glance towards the Slytherin table.
Vivian is sitting somewhat removed from her housemates, nearby a group of younger students who keep glancing at her with wary expressions, as if they're afraid that she might hex them. This is, admittedly, amusing enough to make Sirius's brooding look lessen slightly, especially when he sees that Vivian is completely ignoring them as she fixes herself a cup of tea.
"Haven't you ever been rejected before?" Lily demands, turning to face him.
Sirius immediately barks out a laugh as if this question is completely ridiculous, and says in an incredulous voice, "Of course not. I'm Sirius Black."
Lily's expression takes an unsympathetic turn. She stares at him for a long moment before promptly turning to James and demanding, "Potter, ask me out on a date."
Sirius raises an eyebrow. Peter's mouth hangs open in shock, showcasing a mouthful of half-chewed chicken. Remus leans back with an amused smirk. But – it's James's reaction that is really memorable. He immediately freezes, arm raised to deposit a heaping spoonful of buttered peas onto Lily's plate. His head snaps up so fast that it looks painful. The jerky movement makes a good majority of the peas fall off of the spoon and roll onto the table. His mouth drops open, eyes wide, and he just stares at Lily as if he's forgotten how to speak.
Lily raises her eyebrows at him and waits.
"Ummm, Lily, er - " James begins, pushing up his glasses with a nervous energy. "Right. Lilyflow – Lily. Would you go – no wait, that's no good. Um. Usually I have more time to think about this…"
Lily sighs impatiently and snaps, "Just ask me, Potter."
The other Marauders watch as James flushes slightly and, beneath Lily's sharp gaze, clears his throat. It's odd how awkward he's acting all of the sudden. Perhaps it's because this is a new situation, and he isn't entirely sure how to navigate it. After all, Lily Evans has never asked him to ask her out on a date before. Usually he just asks her and expects her to tell him to throw himself into the Black Lake, or off one of the castle parapets, or – well, the point has been made.
"Okay," James takes a deep breath and pauses to center himself and looks up into Lily's eyes. "Lily, would you go out with me?"
He smiles hopefully. The smile drops away when Lily immediately responds, "No. See, Sirius? It's not a big deal, getting rejected. It's just one stupid word. Now if you lot will excuse me, I'm going to go sit with Marlene." And with that, Lily Evans pushes away the mountain of food James had spooned onto her plate, gets up, and walks away. James stares at her as she leaves, even more frozen than he'd been when she had first asked him to ask her out. The other Marauders remain silent, too, until Remus purses his lips and reaches over to put a comforting hand on James's shoulder.
"Cheer up, mate. She was only trying to prove a point," he says quietly, though from his tone of voice, it's clear that he doesn't think Lily's point had been entirely justified.
Neither does Sirius. With a glower sent at Lily's retreating back, he turns to James and mutters, "That was cruel. It only makes me not want to get rejected even more." Then, seeing James's downtrodden expression, he hesitantly asks "…Alright there, James?"
James heaves out a sigh and mumbles, "She still wants to murder me, doesn't she? I thought she was over the veritaserum incident."
Remus grimaces. "…I don't think she is. Give it a bit more time."
Sirius frowns, claps James on the back, and says, "Don't worry, mate. She's crazy for rejecting you."
Peter nods and chimes in, "Yeah, you're great, James."
None of their encouraging words seem to be doing the trick, though, because James just sighs again and pushes his food around his plate for the rest of dinner. As for Sirius, well, in between trying to improve his best mate's mood, he becomes more and more convinced that being rejected is absolutely something to avoid.
After dinner, the Marauders trudge back up to the Gryffindor common room, still attempting to bolster James's mood. They don't succeed, and he forlornly shuts himself into the bathroom after claiming that he is going to drown himself in the shower. Remus had patted him on the shoulder again, Peter had offered up some of the expensive chocolate from Switzerland that his mother likes to send him in her care packages, and Sirius had told him to have at it and that if he dies and becomes a ghost, Lily would probably go out with him out of pity, at least. It was supposed to be a joke, but it hadn't made James laugh and he'd gotten a stern talking to from Remus after the bathroom door had closed.
Right. After that fiasco, Sirius doesn't wait around to see if James actually does decide to take his joke point blank, and after throwing his tie and black school robes onto his bed, he quickly leaves the dorm room. See, despite the brief reprieve he'd had after breaking his arm at the Quidditch match, he still has several more weeks of detention to get through, and Filch is surely pacing his office as he gleefully waits to administer tonight's punishment. Sirius normally would have taken his time getting down there, but considering the dismal mood of his friends and the fact that one brown haired Slytherin would also be attending the detention, he ends up arriving slightly early. Now before anyone gasps in horror at this monumentally grossly responsible action, it probably ought to be said that he ends up being rather thankful for his early arrival. There is one reason for this:
Vivian Blair did not show up for detention. When he waltzes into Filch's office at ten of seven, there is no sign of her. He doesn't think much of it, at first, because he is after all early, and merely greets the dour caretaker with one of his signature smirks.
"Evening, Argus," he drawls as he steps inside the tiny office. Mrs. Norris hisses at him from where she's sitting on top of the desk, and he presses down the urge to hiss back.
The next ten minutes tick by very slowly. Filch has taken to sitting in his chair, turning his eyes from Sirius to the clock over and over again. An uncomfortable energy gradually builds up in the small space, made all the worse when Filch begins to mutter to his creepy cat as if he actually thinks she can understand him. At ten past six, when Vivian still hasn't showed, Filch begins to get angry. At fifteen past, his anger progresses into fury.
"Calm down, Argie, I'm sure she'll be here any minute," Sirius says with a roll of his eyes, obviously unimpressed with the way Filch is now pacing back and forth in sharp, jittery movements. The office space is only about eight by eight square feet, and seeing as it's cluttered with junk and lots of random odds and ends, he doesn't exactly have a whole lot of room for which to pace.
At twenty past, Filch's impatience wins out. He shoves a broom and dust pan into Sirius's arms and snarls, "Go clean something. Useless students. I'll be talking to the Headmaster about extending your detentions. I won't stand for this! It's blatant disrespect – a century ago, I'd have you hanging from your ankles in the dungeons for this!"
Sirius had, understandably, grown quite insulted at being blamed for Vivian Blair's tardiness, and had made a bit of a show in arguing that he shouldn't be punished for her lack of respect, but Filch wouldn't hear it and had just shoved him out of his office. And so, standing in the middle of the corridor with a broom and dust pan in hand, no adult supervision, and no Vivian Blair, Sirius does what anyone would have done in his peculiar circumstances: high tailed it the fuck out of there.
After all, seeing as Filch has apparently decided to let him choose his own detention tonight, he figures that the third corridor could really use a good sweeping, what with all the cobwebs and dust. And if he accidentally runs into his absentee Slytherin at the same time, well, it's her fault for not showing up to detention. So, despite the voice in his head telling him that this is probably not the best idea, he makes his way to the grand staircase and strides to the third floor with his broom slung over his shoulder and the dust pan hanging loosely at his side. He ought to keep up appearances, you know.
He's not sure what he actually expects, when he arrives at the classroom. If he thinks he'll find Vivian pouring over a book or casting experimental spells at the wall, he's wrong. The classroom is, in fact, empty when he steps inside of it, with no sign of her at all. Even though Vivian herself isn't here, though, she seems to have left some of her things behind. There are a few pieces of paper strewn over an old desk that looks like its seen better days, and several books stacked on the floor beside the wall. He sets the broom and dust pan down before going over to investigate.
Now, it isn't as if Sirius means to snoop around. He had been hoping to stumble upon Vivian and corner her into admitting what she's up to. He isn't a scheming person by nature, unless of course said schemes have to do with pranks, and doesn't make a habit of sticking his nose into other people's business – unless that person is an enigmatic Slytherin that he is more than slightly enchanted with. And it's only because of said enchantment that he steps over to the papers and pulls one of them towards him. His curiosity is terribly arresting and he can't not look.
Scribbles are written all over the page, from the topmost margin to the bottom of the parchment. There are notes here and there; nonsensical things that make little sense to him, which say things like 'must retain ability to control' and 'a common jurisdiction is key'. He sees half-formed spells and crossed-out ideas, and Latin words that mean things like 'cognizant' and 'mindful'. There seems to be a common ground between her notes and the Latin scribbles, but it isn't until he happens to glance to the book that's lying open on the desk that he realizes what it is.
'Raising the Dead' is sitting unassumingly beside the parchment, opened somewhere in the middle and forgotten. Sirius frowns at it, feeling his curiosity rush through him as he leans over it. He skims through one of the paragraphs before he grows bored with the circular wording and flips the page. And it's then, as he looks upon an image that depicts a grotesque dead body raising from a grave, that he realizes the missing link.
Inferi. She's crafting a spell to do something with Inferi – to make them more independent, perhaps? He glances back at the parchment and narrows his eyes when he sees the word 'conscientia'. Having sat through his fair share of Latin tutors as a child, many of the foreign words written out on the paper are familiar to him, and they all seem to point towards the goal of making Inferi more self-aware, somehow.
Is this what she's doing? Doesn't she know how dangerous this is? His frown deepens as he begins to riffle through more of the pages, trying to ascertain if she has figured out the spell or if there's still time to convince her to stop this madness before she gets herself killed. It's as he's turning over one of the pieces of parchment that his original hope comes to fruition. Funny, how it happens just when he's decided that it's probably better if Vivian doesn't show up, seeing as he's far closer to getting an answer than he would be if he just asked her outright.
Alas, but that's precisely what happens, and when Vivian sees him in her domain, looking through her things, she does what any proper Slytherin would do. She reaches for her wand and hisses, "What do you think you're doing?"
Sirius is actually a bit caught off guard at her sudden appearance. He jumps and spins around clumsily because he hadn't heard her step inside the room. When he catches sight of her expression and the fury dancing in her eyes, he realizes that this had been a pretty stupid thing to do. It definitely doesn't appear to be gaining him any points, judging by the way Vivian is clutching her wand with white knuckles. She looks like she's seconds away from casting the darkest curse she knows.
"…You didn't come to detention," he blurts out, mainly because he isn't sure what else to say. Then, realizing that he's still holding one of her papers, he clears his throat and slaps it back down onto the table with a grimace.
Vivian's gaze darts down to the parchment. Sirius swallows when he sees them darken.
"How did you find this place?" she asks again, lifting her eyes back up to his. This time, he can almost feel her anger as if it is a dagger slicing through him.
He holds his hands up and hedges, "Look, Blair, I only wanted to talk about – "
"Get out," she interrupts, not letting him finish.
It's a little frightening, actually. He thought he knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of Vivian Blair's anger, but suddenly he's not so sure. He's half tempted to listen to her get out of here, but then something happens that makes him pause. It's a little something that Sirius Black has in droves. It's called stubbornness.
"No," he says, and crosses his arms.
It's almost worth it. After all, he is rather partial to the way Vivian's eyes blaze with wildfire whenever she's angry. It does things to him that he can't quite explain. It makes his heart shudder in his chest, and his fingers twitch for want of dragging her into him. It makes his body warm, as if the wildfire of her eyes sets some internal part of him ablaze, and the flames that sunder through him leave him gasping in the wake of them. Yes, it's almost worth it.
The sight of that wildfire has such an effect on him now, even as Vivian draws herself up to her full stature and narrows her eyes dangerously at him. The hand that is holding her wand shakes with her anger, knuckles bone-white and taut as she grips the handle. She looks like a true pureblood, with all the haughtiness and arrogance that he has seen many times before. Yes, a true pureblood – who looks down on him and sees him as little more than scum beneath her shoe; a stain for which she would like nothing more than to blast away.
Well, it's like he said: it's almost worth it.
"You have no right, looking through my things and pretending that you actually give a shit about me, so get the fuck out of here before I send you to the hospital wing for the second time this week," Vivian sneers at him, lip curling into a familiar expression. He's seen it many times upon her face, this disdain. It's part of the reason he couldn't stand her, before. In fact, he feels the slightest twinge of his past feelings brimming up within him now, as he sees it again.
He clenches his hands, fighting back the urge to draw his wand. Landing himself into a duel wouldn't help either of them, and it especially wouldn't prove to her that he does, in fact, give a shit about her, despite her staunch belief that he's putting on pretenses. It's difficult to restrain himself, though. Being on the receiving end of an angry Slytherin who's threatening to curse him to kingdom come is certainly sending him instincts a bit haywire.
"If you had just told me about your task, I wouldn't have had to take these measures," Sirius snaps at her, feeling the strain of those instincts pull him in too many directions to count. He wants to respond to her threats with some of his own; he wants to pull her into him and kiss the living daylights out of her.
Vivian, who has had one hand gripping the doorknob since stepping into the room and finding him there, now sends the door flying back with one angry push. It slams into its frame, rattling loudly through the space and lending a daunting energy to the already menacing atmosphere. She takes one step forward and, raising her voice in her fury, responds, "I'm not obligated to tell you anything. Who the fuck do you think you are?"
He grits his teeth and gives her a swift reply, and even though it isn't the first time he's said it to her, it still makes her delightfully perplexed.
"I'm someone who does give a shit about you, Vivian, and even though you're dead-set about not believing me, it's not going to stop me from caring about the fact that you're making a fucking spell for fucking Voldemort, or that you decided to tell fucking Tosspot Clarke before me!"
At this, she snaps her mouth shut. Her sudden silence isn't because of his admission that he cares, though. Her short-lived perplexity is quickly overshadowed by the intense amount of hatred that she feels bubbling up within her chest, when she realizes what he has just said. Her fingers shake again, but when she raises her wand to his chest, it's resolutely calm nonetheless; anger driven into cold, temperate rage. Fury at its finest.
"You eavesdropped on me?" she hisses.
When a forest fire begins, it's near impossible to control. It burns for days, ravaging the land and taking down trees and wildlife as it goes. Its flames are a reckoning of destruction, building ever higher until there is nothing left to burn. Every tree, every plant, every blade of grass is made sacrificial, and only when the sacrifice runs dry and there is nothing more to take, the conflagration finally dies. And when it does, when the flames have roared out their final abolition, what is left is a colorless landscape where once was vibrant life; a dour, bleak sketch of a charred remnant of vitality.
This is what Vivian's eyes look like, as she stares thunderously at him and waits for him to explain himself.
But, see, Sirius Black isn't the type to fall to timidity whenever something challenging occurs in his life. If he was that sort of person, he'd never have gotten to where he is now. He'd never have had the courage to stand up to his family, or to leave home, or to try to make it by himself in the world. He'd never have gone to such lengths to ensure that there is a place for him in his house; the lone Gryffindor with a background so unlike any of his fellows. No, he is not the type to bow to intimidation, especially when it comes in the form of one Vivian Blair.
"I've been trying to help you for weeks now, but you won't let me," he barks at her. "What did you expect me to do, sit back and let you fuck everything up?"
This isn't exactly the best thing to say, but then again, there isn't really a right thing to say anyhow. A wise man once said: anger is like grasping a hot coal and hoping that someone else gets burned. The hot coal of anger that you grasp so tightly harms yourself, always, before it spreads to others. Destruction is impartial; it burns whatever it can find.
It burns Vivian, too, when her fury takes a turn into pure, malicious hatred.
"I NEVER ASKED FOR YOUR HELP!" she hollers at him, and closes the space between them to dig the tip of her wand into his chest, hard enough that it hurts.
Sirius is, naturally, at the end of his rope. That much is obvious when he decides that playing nice is clearly not going to get him anywhere. Within seconds, he's grasping his wand and yelling, "Well tough, you're getting it anyway! I'm not going to sit back and let you create some fucked up spell to make Inferi more powerful! You're going to get yourself killed - "
"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO – "
"I HAVE EVERY RIGHT!" Sirius roars. "I FUCKING LOVE YOU!"
Now this, Vivian is not expecting. The wildfire returns to her eyes as she stares at him in shocked bewilderment. Her anger dies down slightly in the face of his callous confession, only to be built back up with surprising swiftness when she forces herself to recall how he had eavesdropped on her private conversation, and has thrown himself into her path again and again, mucking everything up like the graceless Gryffindor he is. She studies the surprised light that enters Sirius's eyes upon hearing his own confession, and sneers at him.
"You love me?" she repeats incredulously. Her voice is quieter now; so quiet that it feels sinister. "You think that stalking me around the castle and constantly getting in my way is love? Are you really that much of a fucking idiot?"
He seems just as shocked as she is, to have said such a thing to her, and for a moment she thinks he means to take it back. After all, Sirius doesn't know what love is. How could he? He clearly only said that because it was the first excuse he could muster, for consistently messing up her life. But then the strangest thing happens. His shock dissipates into something that looks like determination. He sets his shoulders back and lifts his chin, and this time, he's the one looking down at her. He's the true pureblood wearing his mask of haughty arrogance.
"If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't have let you stay at the Potter's over Christmas," he sneers. "I wouldn't have tried to help you find a way out of your situation. And while we're at it, I wouldn't have pranked you so much, or tried to get your attention like I did."
He knocks her wand away from his chest, and because she's so surprised at his words, she lets him.
"I wouldn't have gone out of my way to set up elaborate pranks just to get you to look at me. I wouldn't be here right now, trying to get you to talk to me."
He grasps her shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of her robes as a wild look invades his eyes. He's close, so close that she can feel his breath against her lips. His wavy hair has gotten in his eyes, but it doesn't lessen the impact of his gaze as he stares at her. The haughtiness resembles an almost frenzied sort of urgency, now. She feels a certain sharpness in her chest; a lingering shock mingled with voracious madness that empties her lungs of air. She can't breathe.
"I didn't realize it, before. I didn't realize how much I fucking want you," he croaks.
Oh. She really can't breathe.
Sirius swallows tightly and whispers, "Say something, Vivian."
She can't. Words require breath, which rattles out of her too quickly to hold. She doesn't know what she wants, suddenly, but she doesn't think it's to hex him. Well actually, that isn't true. She does know what she wants. She's known it for a while now, only she hadn't let herself dwell on it for fear of her never obtaining it in full. What she really wants, above all else, is for him to mean everything he's just said to her.
She thinks she fucking loves him, too, which is undoubtedly why she ends up rasping, "I hate you, Sirius Black."
If Sirius didn't know her as well as he does, he might not have heard what she's really saying. But, as it is…
His mouth swings up slightly, and in the quietest voice he's ever used, he breathes, "I hate you too, Vivian Blair," and then, before he can think twice about it, or hesitate for too long, he closes the distance between them.
Now Sirius has had his fair share of first kisses, but this is not like any other first kiss he has had. It is not soft, or slow, or reverent. It is not delicate, and there is no awkward hesitance as two souls are opened to the other for the first time. No, delicacy is not the word he would use to describe this kiss.
This is like walking headfirst into the forest fire. It's feeling the flames lick at your skin and sear their way into your heart. It's sacrificing yourself to the burning and not giving a damn. It's being so cold for so long that the fire is nothing short of intoxicating. Your thoughts become ashes; your heart becomes fuel.
He kisses her like that, in the middle of the empty classroom that had just witnessed such angry words. And she – well, honestly she doesn't know what she does, only that, despite herself, she ends up winding her arms tightly around his neck and hauling him closer to her own burning heart.
And it is burning, in a way in never has before. The heat of his mouth on hers and the way his hands curl up around the sides of her face is exhilarating. She shoves one hand into his hair and curls her fingers into it, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. The breathless way he sinks into her makes her wonder why they've never done this before, and all she can do is inhale the scent of him and lose herself in the angry way he devours her.
She's never been kissed like this, before, and it's difficult for her to ignore the intense desire that begins to unfurl through her body. She shifts her fingers into the collar of his shirt and clenches them into the fabric. Her knuckle presses just so against the base of his throat, grazing searing skin. She kisses him harder, her mouth insistent and demanding – furious, almost, as if the remnants of their argument presses into the movement of their mouths.
He nips at her mouth, tongue grazing her bottom lip. One hand trails down to her waist, where he slips his arm around her and clenches his fingers into her side, tight and insistent. She breathes out shallowly at the possessive nature of his hold and thinks that she oughtn't like it quite as much as she does, because after all this is Sirius Black, and she's kissing him.
She's kissing him. With a jolt, Vivian opens her eyes, only to find that his are already open. She drowns there for a long moment, swept up in bright silver that's made all the more intense from the desire that clings to the edges of his gaze. His breath is hot against her mouth. They linger there even as the kiss abruptly dissolves. And then she's jerking back, and the movement is so sudden that Sirius's grip breaks instantly. He lifts his head to stare at her, silent as the grave and possessing a strange captivation. There is a certain wariness to that silver now, but it's shuddered over with a hunger that only drives the captivation home. And fuck it all if she doesn't want to drag him back against her even now, as she pushes him away.
Vivian opens her mouth, and Sirius's eyes dart down to her parted lips as if he wants nothing more than to drag her back, too, with all the wild ferocity that graces his expression. She means to say something – anything – but the heady sight that he makes with his smoldered eyes and mussed up hair halts her thoughts. She suddenly can't think of a single thing to say, so instead, she just takes a shaky step back. The distance allows her to regain some of her breath, at least. She inhales a sharp, deep lungful of air, and realizes that she's still gripping her wand.
That's right. She'd meant to hex him for eavesdropping on her. To make him pay for being such a colossal arsehole. It's funny – well, frustrating, more like – how she no longer feels the urge to do so.
Sirius clears his throat and raises a hand to shove it through his hair, mussing it up even more. He's obviously waiting for her to speak. The silence begins to grow into something that's puckered with awkwardness, the likes of which feels innately wrong after that they had just done.
What they'd just done. She purses her mouth and takes another step back. This time, though, Sirius takes a step forward to erase the added distance between them, and looks very much as though he'd like to gather her up in his arms again and say more of those painfully honest things.
It's probably because she wants that, too, that makes Vivian takes another deep breath and turn on her heel. She wouldn't call it fleeing, necessarily. It's more like…preserving her already frayed nerves.
Right.
She makes it several steps into the corridor before Sirius makes to follow. She's already halfway down the hallway before he calls, "You're just going to walk away after all of that? Really?"
Vivian pauses for only a moment, staring straight ahead. She presses down the urge to turn and look at him, afraid that if she does, she won't want to leave anymore. Words escape her. She's still having trouble breathing. So instead of responding, Vivian just swallows tightly and keeps walking, her pace fast and demanding, and prays that he won't follow her this time. She's afraid of what she might do if he does; of what she might admit.
Sirius, for his part, seems to have decided that perhaps it's best to let her walk away this time. He doesn't follow her, but he certainly wants to. There are quite a few things that he wants to do, if he's being honest. His mouth is still searing with the memory of her lips against his. He stands there in the corridor for a long time even after she's disappeared, bringing a hand to his mouth and trying to stop his head from spinning quite as much as it does.
Yes, he'll let her walk away tonight, but not again.
Not again.
