AN: In which Vivian Blair attempts to deny that she wants Sirius Black.
Because there were so many reviews on the last chapter (thanks!), this time around I'm going to just quickly go through some of the main questions/themes:
- The love poem plot hasn't been forgotten. Vivian will eventually discover who her secret poet is before the end of the school year.
- Apologies for the confusion I caused in the last chapter! Vivian and Sirius have never kissed before, as children or otherwise. I can see why everyone thought so - my wording was a bit off. My meaning was more along the lines of 'they argue constantly and are so familiar with each other that the kiss feels natural, as if they've done it before'. In hindsight I should have just wrote that instead of trying to be poetic! Ah well
- To those of you losing sleep because you're too busy reading this story, I love you (but you should probably go to sleep, I need to pretend like I'm responsible okay)
- Jily will happen soon!
- Draco/OC story: Headstrong Gryffindor lead, post-Hogwarts, and Fred is alive damn it. It might happen is all I'm saying.
- And lastly, Fragile Mercy, because I wanted to say that you made me snicker to myself at the thought of you ignoring your fiance, thanks so much for the review. I couldn't help myself with Come on Eileen despite the time line. The mental image of James hollering out the lyrics to that song makes me ridiculously amused even now ;)
- Yes, we have surpassed 400k before the first kiss. If I was truly evil, I would make you all wait another 400k for the second kiss. But I won't because like everyone else invested in Vivian and Sirius, I have now officially reached the end of my patience.
Thanks for all the reviews! As always, I hope you all have a lovely week and we shall reconvene next weekend for Chapter 49 :)
Chapter Forty Eight | Ignis Fatuus
[Foolish fire; will-o-the-wisp]
Vivian doesn't get up for breakfast the next morning, and her dormmates aren't entirely sure why.
"Is she sick or something?" Rosalind wonders from across the room, casting a glance at the curtains that are pulled taut around Vivian's bed. There's no sign of life from within, as far as she can tell, which is a bit strange because Vivian doesn't usually sleep in. She's often the first one up.
Narcissa pauses as she's fixing her emerald and black tie, looking into the mirror that she's standing in front of and peering at the drawn curtains as well. She hadn't seen Vivian after the situation with Adrian before dinner yesterday, but it's been a challenge to think about anything else. She has a few questions for her friend. A few suspicions to make clear.
"Only one way to find out," Morrigan shrugs, and strides over to Vivian's bed. A moment later, she's roughly pulling the curtains to the side, no doubt in hope that the sudden movement will freak Vivian out and give her a good laugh. There is one problem with this, which is of course that you can't frighten someone who isn't even there. The bed is empty, the covers messily strewn about the mattress. There is no sign of Vivian's wavy brown hair against the pillow. She isn't there, and hasn't been there for the entire duration of her dormmates' conversation.
Rosalind raises an eyebrow. "Well I guess she's already gone down to breakfast," she reasons, and thinks no further about it.
But Vivian hasn't gone down to breakfast. She's not in the Great Hall when the three of them arrive. She isn't primly stirring cream into her tea or drawling out half-awake insults to the younger students. Narcissa finds it strange, but Morrigan and Rosalind don't question it. It's not as if they care if Vivian misses breakfast, and besides, it's not the first meal she's skipped in the last few weeks. She must simply be in the library, or taking part in some other duty that she hadn't bothered informing them about.
It's only when they're leaving the Great Hall some thirty minutes later that Vivian shows herself, though not quite in the manner that they're expecting. After all, it isn't as if there was an early morning Quidditch practice today, otherwise Morrigan would have gotten up for it lest she risked Avery's wrath. So when the doors of the castle swing open and Vivian strides into the main corridor with windblown hair and her Silver Arrow in hand, the others are rightfully confused. There's a strange, distant look in her eyes that has them all raising eyebrows, especially when she nearly walks right past them without even seeing them.
"Oi!" Morrigan calls, feeling a touch insulted at being so callously ignored.
It's clear, though, when Vivian jumps a bit and turns to face them, that she hadn't meant to ignore them. The distant look in her eyes vanishes slightly, but it's still there even as she changes course and walks towards them. She looks strangely unsure, as if she's a ghost floating around with no real destination.
"Were you at the pitch?" Rosalind questions, rather unnecessarily. She looks somewhat horrified at Vivian's unkempt appearance. Beside the windblown hair and the distant eyes, her friend looks positively ruffled. She's wearing a jumper thrown on over a button-up shirt, whose buttons are out of order, and a pair of black trousers that she must have dug up from the bottom of her trunk, because they're wrinkled. Now Vivian Blair might not be as obsessed with fashion as Rosalind, but she never goes out in public looking so disheveled.
Morrigan raises an eyebrow and peers at the buttons of her shirt. "You weren't snogging someone in the locker rooms, were you?"
Morrigan's mention of snogging sessions certainly draws an unexpected reaction from Vivian, who promptly stiffens and blinks back the hazy look in her eyes. She looks at Morrigan with startled eyes, and blushes.
"Of course not. Don't be an idiot," Vivian staunchly denies, a little too quickly.
Morrigan crosses her arms and sends her an incredulous look. "Merlin's Balls, you were, weren't you? Who was it, then?"
Vivian swallows tightly and clenches her teeth. Contrary to Morrigan's belief, she wasn't snogging anyone in the locker rooms. She definitely isn't the sort of person who would just – just grab someone and start kissing them. Right - she hates kissing.
"Fuck off, Flint," Vivian moodily returns, and turns on her heel to head back to the Slytherin common room. She needs to change into her school uniform. The first class of the day, which is Defense Against the Dark Arts, starts in roughly half an hour.
Merlin. Snogging someone in the locker rooms. As if! She'd gone out to the pitch to fly, obviously. It's a wonderful thing to do when you need to clear your mind, and Vivian's mind is desperately in need of clearing. Unfortunately, it hadn't worked as well as she'd thought it would, because her thoughts are still spinning even as she snaps at Rosalind to stop guessing who she'd dragged into her non-existent locker room snog-fest.
Honestly! Unlike some people in this damned school, she doesn't make a point of sticking her tongue down people's throats when they least expect it. She doesn't stalk people around, proclaiming that they want to help them or shouting bullshit about being in love with them. She doesn't randomly kiss someone in empty classrooms after eavesdropping on them and snooping through their things, because she's not an arsehole –
"I mean, who does she think she is, anyway? Rejecting me like that out of the blue! Someone ought to ask her to ask them out and then flat out reject her back. Give her a taste of her own medicine."
Vivian freezes. She lifts her head just in time to see Potter and his band of idiotic friends walking around the corner towards the Great Hall, no doubt intent on getting a late breakfast before classes start. Her eyes immediately snap to Sirius's figure, who is walking idly beside James, looking bored.
" – Oh, I know! It was Michael Allerton, wasn't it?" Rosalind chirps.
An inexplicable heat pools in Vivian's stomach at the sight of him. What a colossal arsehole, wearing his uniform so callously. Honestly, rolled up sleeves? Undone tie? He could at least button his uniform shirt all the way -
"She wouldn't consort with the Ravenclaw Keeper, Rose," Morrigan drawls, rolling her eyes.
- Or brush his damn hair, for that matter. Merlin knows how manageable it would be if he actually put some effort into it. It's practically as smooth as silk, after all.
"What are you on about? Just the other week you were messing around with Sheaffer," Rosalind points out, not noticing the way Vivian has stopped walking.
Her mouth is searing. Merlin. She can practically feel his breath on her lips. The heat of his body pulled taut against hers. The – intensity of his eyes as Sirius looks up and catches sight of her.
Fuck.
The intensity is there again. Grey flashes to silver, and the edge of Sirius's mouth curls up into a smirk as he raises his eyebrows at her. He no longer looks bored. Instead, he looks positively captivated. Vivian stiffens even more. She suddenly wishes she'd worn her uniform instead of her current outfit, because he is absolutely perusing her figure right about now as he slows to a halt.
"That's different," Morrigan shrugs. "I'm not like Vivian. She doesn't just snog random people."
At this, Vivian starts a bit and drags her eyes away from Sirius's, who's eyebrow raises up just a little higher when he hears Morrigan's words.
Rosalind sighs. "Yeah, that's true, I guess. She's a lot pickier about who she let invade her personal space, am I right, Blair?"
Vivian glowers at them, forces herself to ignore Sirius's amused expression, and angrily blurts out, "That's not true at all – I snog people all the time without it meaning anything." And then, hooking her arm insistently into Narcissa's, who had thus far been content to not add to the conversation, Vivian thunders her way down the corridor and away from that – that arsehole.
Oh Merlin, this is horrendous. Now Sirius must think that she'd meant to kiss him. He must be expecting for her to kiss him again. To make matters worse, it's not as if she can avoid him very successfully. She can ignore him during classes and mealtimes, but they still have nightly detentions. She'd already skipped last night's detention to work on her task (though she hadn't exactly gotten any work done). She can't skip another without Filch having an aneurism and loading another month's worth of detentions on her plate in retribution.
With a deep sigh, Vivian hastens her way around the corner, dragging Narcissa with her. It isn't until they're several corridors down from the Great Hall that Narcissa drags her arm out of Vivian's hold and demands, "What the hell is going on with you this morning?"
Vivian sends her a glower and moodily grits out, "Nothing is going on."
Fuck Sirius Black for doing this to her.
Narcissa raises a disbelieving eyebrow and rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about yesterday anyway."
The Slytherin common room is still a bit of a walk from where they currently are, and the hallways are empty for now. It's as good a time as ever to broach this subject, especially since Vivian has been making herself scarce as of late. She's hardly ever in the common room these days, and she always goes to bed after the rest of them are already asleep. Despite Vivian's claims that she's just trying to avoid Mulciber, Narcissa isn't entirely sure she believes her.
Vivian shoves her hands into her pockets and gruffly wonders, "What about yesterday?" as she continues on her way.
Narcissa hurries to catch up. In a composed voice, she questions, "What did Adrian want to talk to you about?"
She watches Vivian's shoulders stiffen slightly. When her friend's prompt response is to say, "The betrothal, obviously," Narcissa knows she's lying.
She purses her mouth and reaches out to slip her hand around Vivian's arm, dragging her to a stop. Vivian looks a bit impatient at the move, but Narcissa doesn't care. She merely says, "I know what's going on, Vivian. I'm not an idiot. Lucius seems to think I am, but I'm not."
At this, Vivian's mouth drops open and she stares at Narcissa in surprise. Narcissa feels just a tad bit insulted that she seems so shocked, and narrows her eyes at her. "Really? You don't think I'd already know that Lucius and the rest of them are all Death Eaters?" She pulls Vivian to the side and says in a quieter voice, "Lucius has been trying to tell me for ages now. I think he's afraid that I'll be upset or something."
Vivian pauses for a long moment before she hesitantly wonders, "…And would you be upset?"
Narcissa pauses, too. "…No, I suppose not. I mean, I don't think it's wise, what with the Ministry being so up-in-arms about it all, but it's not as if I can do anything about it. Besides," she adds with a hesitant shrug, "I love him."
Vivian doesn't say anything for a few moments, mainly because she's not sure what to say. Narcissa has always been the more logical person in their group of friends. In a lot of ways, Vivian sees her as a true Slytherin – the sort of Slytherin that Salazar himself would have been immensely proud of. She's composed and collected and has the most cunning mind in the school, but she doesn't use her sharp astuteness if there isn't something in it for her. She certainly sticks her nose up at muggleborns and those with lesser blood, but she also doesn't make a show of it like Avery and Mulciber do. She's smart enough to not make needless enemies; she chooses her battles with a more discerning eye. It's just that Vivian would have thought that Narcissa might be a little bit upset to know that Lucius is a Death Eater, if only because it's dangerous. Like she herself has said, the Ministry doesn't take too kindly to Voldemort's followers, and Lucius is intent on joining said Ministry after he graduates. His involvement could spell disaster for their future.
She's contemplating what sort of response Narcissa might give if she were to say any of this to her – if she'd be composed and collected in her agreement, or wrathful in her disagreement – but before Vivian can think of how she might phrase this, Narcissa drops another bomb on her when she cautiously says, "I know you're somehow involved too, Vivian."
With yet another start, Vivian stares at her in shock. Perhaps she shouldn't be so surprised. After all, she hasn't been as careful as she might have been, these past few weeks. Her strange schedule has certainly been noticed by her dormmates, who have remarked on more than one occasion how she seems to be getting little to no sleep and staying up late into the night. Morrigan and Rosalind seem content to put this down to broom closet speculations, but Narcissa has always been sharper than that. It probably doesn't help that she's engaged to someone who also has dealings with the Dark Lord.
"…I'm not one of them," Vivian whispers to her, and begins to wrangle with the sleeve of her shirt as if to prove it.
Before she can unbutton the cuff, Narcissa sighs and darts her hand forward to stop her. "You don't have to show me your arm, you idiot. It would be a bit contradictory for me to turn you in when I'm set to marry a Death Eater in a few months." With another sigh, Narcissa murmurs, "I just want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into. You're not like Bella. I can't really see you going around wreaking destruction."
If it weren't for the fact that Narcissa is apparently more okay with marrying a Death Eater than Vivian would have thought, she might have felt pleased that her friend cares enough about her to say all of this. But as it is, Vivian just feels stiff and tense, and she swallows tightly around the lump in her throat as she searches for something to say.
"…Look," she begins, feeling short of breath. "I'm not planning on getting the Mark. The only reason I'm involved at all is because my father went around blabbing about my hobby for experimenting with spells, and the Dark Lord caught wind of it. I can't tell you anything else."
In fact, she probably shouldn't have even said that much, but it would have been difficult to get Narcissa off her back without giving something away. Inhaling deeply, Vivian sighs, "You can't tell Lucius of the others about what I just said. They expressly told me not to tell you anything."
Narcissa huffs at this and rolls her eyes. She releases her grip of Vivian's arm and mutters, "Honestly…as if I wouldn't figure it out myself. Lucius should know better by now." She says nothing more about Vivian's involvement, though, which Vivian is thankful for. In fact, as they resume their walk back to the common room, their conversation becomes almost painfully inane. Narcissa gossips a bit about the latest thing that Rosalind has done to annoy her (something about using all of her hair potion without asking), and Vivian is struck with a strange discomfort at the light grievances that leave Narcissa's mouth. It feels wrong, talking about such silly things after they'd just been talking about Death Eaters and the Dark Lord.
This feeling remains poignant within her as Vivian enters the D.A.D.A. classroom for this morning's first class. It's making her already frayed mood take an even darker turn. She almost can't believe that it's so easily for Narcissa to ignore the fact that Lucius is a Death Eater; that she's still perfectly content with the thought of marrying him, despite it all. She honestly doesn't know what to think about it – whether she should admire her friend for the way she's sticking to Lucius's side or whether she should feel disgust at her ability to brush his darker tendencies away. Her thoughts are churning when she enters Anderson's classroom and makes a beeline for the Slytherin section, and it isn't until she's settling in her seat that her mind begins to churn for another reason entirely.
She can feel his eyes on her. Merlin, is this how it's going to be from now on? Just because she had accidentally kissed him one time, he's going to up his stalking game? She composes her expression into one of haughty disdain before jerking her eyes to Sirius and sending him a dark look, but it only seems to make his mouth twitch up in amusement. And fuck him for drawing her attention to his damnable mouth. Her eyes dart down to his lips for a split second – barely that, even – but because he's staring at her so intensely, he definitely notices. His lips pull back into an all-out grin, and he winks at her smugly. Vivian stiffens and promptly looks away from him. She's not blushing, damn it.
What an arsehole. She moodily gets out her textbook and a roll of parchment as Anderson begins his lecture. This week, they're going over some of the creatures that aren't as well-known in the magical world. Vivian personally thinks it's ridiculous to even bother, since the chances of her running into an Obscurus or a Chimaera in the British countryside is next to nothing, but she throws herself into her note-taking nonetheless. Her studiousness isn't really due to any desire to learn about how to defend herself against one of these creatures, but rather because it's the only thing that can distract her from the furtive sound of Sirius and James whispering to each other several desks away.
She grips her quill hard. He'd better not be telling Potter anything that had happened last night or she will murder him. She already has a bone to pick with him about his eavesdropping and snooping, since she hadn't had the chance to do so last night before he had distracted her with that horrendous kiss. She still can't believe that she had ever conceived of the thought of actually returning whatever ridiculous feelings he'd claimed to have for her.
"Gentlemen, I can't imagine what you could possibly be chatting about over there," Professor Anderson suddenly says, spearing James and Sirius a sharp glance as he pauses in his lecture. They both quiet down immediately. Sirius reaches up to run a hand through his hair and basks in the attention that the whole class is now giving him, Vivian included. As for James…
He turns his head and shoots Vivian a grin of such shit-eating capacities that Vivian immediately stiffens in her chair and narrows her eyes into a thunderous glower. Oh fuck no.
"Oh it's nothing, Professor. We were just discussing Sirius's latest detention, is all," James grins, still smirking at Vivian, who's face is beginning to turn an angry shade of red.
Sirius sees her furious expression and clears his throat, nudging James and muttering at him to shut up, but the damage has already been done. Vivian honestly didn't think she could loathe the Marauders more than she already does, but she's beginning to realize that perhaps it is possible after all. She glares fitfully at Sirius, who looks slightly chagrined at his friend's brazenness, and runs his hand through his hair again.
Anderson sounds rather impatient when he says, "Well I'm sure Mr. Black's detention wasn't so very out of the ordinary so as to make it more important than my lecture. Five points from Gryffindor. Now, as I was saying…"
The pair of them don't even have the decency to look guilty for having docked points from their house. In fact, James can't seem to help himself when he loudly whispers, "Oh, it sounds like it was very out of the ordinary."
Anderson sends him another sharp look which makes James thankfully quiet down, but not before Sirius nudges him again, this time hard enough to make him grimace. Potter doesn't lose his shit-eating smirk, though, which only further contributes to Vivian's anger.
How fucking dare he gossip about her to his friends. She's so pissed off that she honestly wants to march across the room and strangle him. She can't believe she'd let him kiss her last night. She can't believe that she had wanted him to kiss her. She's going to make tonight's detention even more out of the ordinary, because she's going to kill him.
Sirius, at least, looks a bit shameful throughout the rest of class. He keeps sending furtive glances at Vivian that she adamantly ignores, and even goes so far as to try to catch her on her way out of the classroom once the bell rings. Perhaps it's the loathsome glare she sends him as he approaches her – or perhaps it's the way she shoulders past him before he can reach her side – but it seems to make him slightly less smug as the day progresses. By the time he arrives in Filch's office after dinner, he's downright brooding.
Vivian has arrived before him, this time. It's partially because she knows that Filch will have words for her about missing last night's detention, and she doesn't want to give Sirius any more ammunition against her for having overheard any of said words. It's also partially because she just wants to get tonight over with so that she can wash her hands of him again. He arrives just as Filch is finishing up his tirade, spewing his usual drivel about how he wishes Hogwarts still had corporal punishment. Vivian is standing stone-faced when Sirius steps into the small office, and as Filch begins to lead them to their destination for the evening, it becomes clear to him that she seems adamant about maintaining her current expression. It's making him a bit antsy, to be honest.
"Useless kids," Filch is muttering as he hobbles past the Great Hall. Vivian is walking right behind him, and Sirius a ways behind her. He's studying her as he walks, trying to decipher just how pissed off she is and what he should say once they're alone.
"…up to me, I'd make use of the rack down in the dungeons. That'd stop the students from skipping out on their punishment…"
Sirius isn't expecting Filch to push open the doors of the Great Hall and march right out into the cold winter night. He hesitates before following, wondering if the caretaker is leading them to Hagrid's hut or beyond, to the forest. If he'd known that they'd be going outside, he would have worn something warmer. He catches the way Vivian pulls her robes tighter around her frame and pushes down the concern he feels. Filch is such a tosser. He should have warned them to bring cloaks, at the very least.
"…should be a good and proper punishment for being delinquents, at least…"
Filch leads them through the main courtyard, but instead of heading across the grounds to Hagrid's hut, which is lit up merrily in the distance, he swings a sharp turn towards the owlery and begins to ascend the steep steps. There could only be one reason why they're going there, and Sirius does not want to spend his evening scrubbing owl shite off the floor.
With a frown, he calls, "Isn't it a bit cold to make us clean the owlery, Argus? You're gonna give us pneumonia."
After all, the owlery is open to the elements. On top of that, it's elevated far enough into the air that there will be far more wind than there would be nearer to the ground. It's going to be freezing up there.
Filch doesn't seem to care, though. He snorts out a scoffing laugh and sharply retorts, "No less than you brats deserve."
Sirius glowers at his back as he continues climbing the steps, and mutters insults beneath his breath at the caretaker's retreating form. It really is freezing up here. The wind is much stronger this high up, and it buffets through the space with powerful intent. The owls don't seem to mind the cold. Most of them are cooing happily in their nests, huddled together as they doze, but Sirius and Vivian don't exactly have feathers to insulate them from the cold, and he's got a feeling that she isn't about to invite him to huddle against her for extra warmth.
Filch throws a few brushes at them and tells them to start cleaning before hobbling off, no doubt to his warm office. Tosser. Sirius makes sure to glare at the caretaker until he vanishes, and Vivian makes sure to glare at him as she grabs one of the brushes and proceeds to put as much space between them as is physically possible.
When Sirius turns back and sees said glare, he rolls his eyes.
"What's got you in such a mood?" he demands, rubbing his arms as a particularly fierce gust of wind buffets through the owlery. He'll admit that the question probably isn't the best thing to ask, considering that he happens to know exactly why she's in the mood she's in. He probably shouldn't have let James take the micky out of him during D.A.D.A. that morning, especially when he knew full well that it would annoy her. It's just that he hadn't had the chance to tell James about the kiss last night because he had some sort of Head Boy thing going on, and he hadn't thought to discuss it in the Great Hall over breakfast because he'd still been reeling from the sight of Vivian looking so fucking perfect with her windblown hair and her mussed up jumper.
All things considered, he should probably expect the way Vivian immediately clenches her fingers around the brush she's holding and – moments later – sends it flying at him like a crazy banshee.
"Ow! What the hell was that for?" he demands moodily, rubbing his chest where the brush had hit him and sending a doleful glower at her.
Vivian stands up and barks, "What was that for? Are you fucking serious?" He opens his mouth to deliver his usual bad joke, but Vivian cuts him off before he can, which is probably just as well because she doesn't look like she's in the mood for jokes. "I can't bloody believe you gossiped to Potter about me like some adolescent teenage girl!" she explodes, clenching her hands at her side as a thunderous look enters her eyes.
Sirius's mouth drops mouth. "I am not like an adolescent teenage g – "
"As if I want the whole school knowing that you fucking kissed me last night!" she adds, not letting him defend himself.
He lets out an incredulous laugh. "You kissed me back!"
"And while we're on the subject of that deplorable kiss – "
"Deplorable?!"
" – it didn't mean anything, so don't do it again," she says scathingly, and marches over to him to grab her brush before attempting to make a quick escape back to her corner. Only she doesn't get the chance to, because Sirius loops his hand around her arm and hauls her to a stop before she can.
"Okay fine, I apologize for telling James about our incredible kiss, but he's my best mate and I tell him everything. And you kissed me like you meant to, Vivian, so don't deny that you weren't completely swept away by it," he growls, voice low.
Vivian rips her arms free and turns to face him with a sneer etched onto her face. "I'm not going to be another notch in your belt, Black."
He purses his mouth at her and demands, "What's that supposed to mean?", even though he knows damn well.
"It means that you're still the same womanizing arsehole that you've always been and I'm not going to play into whatever game your concocting in your fucked up head," she bitterly responds.
He looks understandably upset by this. "That's not fair. I'm not playing games with you."
She doesn't look even a little bit convinced, which only serves to make him more upset. He feels his heart clench bitterly in his chest. His voice is angry when he scoffs, "You honestly think I'd kiss you like that if I wasn't crazy about you? Give me a bit more credit, Blair."
She doesn't want to give him any credit, though. This is obvious enough when her scowl turns a few shades darker and she sneers, "Why should I trust you when you eavesdrop on my conversations – "
"For the last fucking time, I only did that because I'm worried about you and you aren't letting me help you!" he erupts, raising his voice. "I'm not going to sit around and let you get yourself killed, all because you're too much of a coward to go to Dumbledore!"
"That doesn't give you the right to listen in on my private conversations!" she blasts back, raising her voice too. Then, with a dark sneer, she growls, "And I'm not a coward."
Sirius barks out a laugh. "From where I'm standing, you definitely look like one. You can't just cater to Voldemort like this, Vivian! He's going to expect you to join him and then what are you gonna do?!"
"I'm not catering to the Dark Lord – "
"Look at you, you're already referring to him like you're one of his followers," Sirius sneers.
She steps closer to him in her anger and hisses, "I have a plan, Black. I know what I'm doing."
He steps closer too and grits out, "You're floundering, Vivian. If you keep this up, you're going to cut off all of your escape routes. If you just talk to Dumbledore, he can – "
"Is that why you kissed me? Because you're trying to manipulate me into doing what you want?" she cuts him off, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring up at him.
Sirius's mouth drops open in shock. He seems to be at a loss for words – until his anger sweeps through him with such potency that he grits his teeth and growls, "No. That's not why I kissed you and you fucking know it."
She sneers out a laugh.
"I don't know why you do half the things you do."
"Well I don't know why you have to be so stubborn about not admitting your feelings for me!"
"Stop glorifying yourself. I don't have feelings for you."
"You kissed me like your life depended on it last night," he growls, inching forward.
"I did not!" she splutters. "You were the one who forced yourself on me!"
"Forced myself on you? You have got to be kidding me!"
"Do I look like I'm kidding?!"
"You look like you're denying the fact that you're as crazy about me as I am about you!"
"If by 'crazy' you mean 'inclined to strangle you for being such a fucking prat', then I guess I am!"
"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not messing around with you?!" he yells.
"At least a thousand more!" she yells back, then falls silent because she hadn't realized just how close they are to each other.
Sirius falls silent too. The sudden quiet seems to make him realize this, too, because his eyes are flashing darkly into hers, but this time it isn't because his gaze is full of fire. Well, it is fire, but it isn't the angry sort. Vivian isn't entirely sure what comes over her when she reaches out, grasps the collar of his shirt, and hauls him into her. All she knows is that when his mouth covers hers, her anger is given an entirely new outlet, and she makes full use of it.
Sirius grunts in surprise as she furiously kisses him, moving her hold from his shirt to dig her fingers into his shoulders. Her grasp is clawing and just as angry as her lips, but to be perfectly honest, he really can't complain.
"Fuck, Vivian – " he growls, and grabs her waist to erase whatever lingering distance remains between them. As her body is pressed flush against his, he hoarsely mumbles, "You're such a – such a fucking stubborn – you make me crazy – "
She sinks her teeth into his bottom lip and sneers, "Shut the fuck up and kiss me, Sirius."
And he does. Oh, he does.
If last night's kiss was fierce, it really doesn't hold a candle to this one. If that kiss was wildfire, this one is like an ocean. She sinks into it as if she's drowning, and he sinks with her.
Before she realizes it, she's being pressed against one of the wooden pillars of the owlery. Sirius's hands shift over her waist and settle at her hips, hauling them against his as he follows her back. Her fingers dart up to his face, thumbs following the arch of his cheekbones. The subtle scratch of five o'clock shadow against her fingertips has the strangest effect on her. She feels desire, hot and steady, shudder just so beneath her skin. She pulls his face insistently towards her, her grip almost bruising, and lets out the smallest, most breathless sigh.
Sirius sighs out too and tangles his fingers into her robes, shifting them beneath the black fabric and running his thumb over the waistband of her skirt. It takes him a moment more to work up the courage to go any further. When he does brush his fingers against the warm skin of her lower back, he figures that it's just as well that Filch hadn't warned them to bring cloaks, because fuck it all if the noise Vivian makes doesn't have his breath rushing out of him and his heart thrumming painfully in his chest.
He honestly doesn't think he's ever been kissed like this before. Vivian is completely unapologetic and perfectly callous. Her mouth moves with a fierce hunger. He feels the most alluring sense of possessiveness from her, and it's completely intoxicating.
A freezing gust of wind drives through the owlery that they are supposed to be cleaning, splintering against their skin. It's a bit like a bucket of ice water and it seems to bring with it a small shard of lost sensibilities, because their kiss slows down slightly. For a moment, Vivian shivers into him, impelled by the warmth of his body, but then she seems to realize just how feverishly she'd just been kissing him and how contradictory she's being, and she pulls back.
Except – this time, Sirius doesn't let her draw away from him completely. He inhales a sharp breath of cold air and heaves, "Oh no – you are not going to keep denying that you want me, Vivian – " and promptly cuts himself off as his lips find hers once more.
Vivian breathes out and kisses him back. Denying that she wants him is rather exhausting at this point, after all. Especially when he's kissing her like this.
Her hands disappear into his hair, delighting in the silken strands of it. Her touch is restless, though; a moment later, she's spinning her fingers down his chest and clenching them into his shirt once more, and a moment after that, she's wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her fingertips into his spine, mapping out the lines and angles of him as if she is an artist sketching the edges of a masterpiece.
And he is a masterpiece. One that makes her head spin and her body blaze with a heat she's never felt before. She didn't think it was possible to feel so warm. It's like her veins are on fire, and they're igniting her in ways she didn't know was possible.
She does want him. Why had she been so adamant about denying it, before? Why had she spent the whole day telling herself that last night was a mistake? Merlin, if this is a mistake, then it's the finest one she's ever experienced.
Of course, mistakes come in many forms, and when they hear the hobbling footsteps of one Argus Filch some time later, the kiss comes to a crashing end.
Sirius breaks away from her with a shuddered inhalation. His eyes are wide, flaring with a danger that makes shivers spin up her body. For a moment, Vivian has no idea why he suddenly turns, fumbles to collect the two brushes that they had haphazardly abandoned some time ago, and shoves one of them at her. It's not until he hisses, "Pretend you're cleaning, Blair!" that she realizes what's going on.
They're about to be found out by the grumpy caretaker, who won't take kindly to the knowledge that his two delinquents had just spent the first half of their detention snogging each other's brains out instead of cleaning owl shit off the floor.
When the door opens and Filch clatters his way into the owlery to check up on them, he not exactly impressed with their performance thus far. He takes one look at the filthy floor, pulls his eyebrows down into a wrinkled scowl, and (because he's out of breath from climbing the stairs), wheezes, "You've barely gotten anything done – what've you been doing all this time, you brats?" Then, grumbling mightily to himself, he hobbles to a rickety chair and barks, "Put some effort into it! Useless students…"
Sirius and Vivian exchange a glance as they throw themselves into doing what they should have been doing all this time, and –
The fiery nature of the look is enough to keep them warm for the duration of the evening.
