Summary: Andrew Knight knew that things were going to change his Sixth Year at Hogwarts. With his friends and the Marauders on his side, he knew it would be full of fun adventures and even some romance along the way. However, it seems a darker path was awaiting them as they reached their Seventh Year . . .
Pairing: Sirius Black/Male OC
Changes to Character(s): N/A
Spoilers To: Harry Potter
Type of Story: Chapter-Filled
Book(s)/Movie(s) Belongs To: JK Rowling
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A/N: Hey, everyone! I will admit that this chapter has some of my favorite conversations I have created so far, and I hope I did it as much justice as it deserves. I have some work to do tomorrow, so I decided to give y'all a slightly early post. I hope you all enjoy the new chapter!
Although Hogwarts is famously known for it's magical teachings, there were two classes that allowed the students to learn the muggle experience. The main one the school advertised was Muggle Studies, a class that concentrated on a more visual and book-learning technique.
On the other hand, Muggle Art was a hands-on class that Marlene had particular interest in. She had asked Andrew to sign up for it the previous year—not wanting to be alone. With a bit of convincing and slight blackmailing from the Gryffindor girl, he agreed.
The class required only skill and knowledge to excel in the many aspects that came with art: history, sketching, clay sculpting, painting, etc.
For the Ravenclaw boy, learning the history behind famous art pieces was the easiest thing for him. However, he learned almost immediately that the actual creation of art was not something anyone wanted in his hands.
"Oh. Mr. Knight," Professor Burbage muttered in concern as she inspected his painting, "that's so . . . abstract."
Andrew scratched his neck. "I was inspired by Picasso?"
She hummed, grabbing her necklace in thought. After staring at the piece for a few more seconds, the professor gave him an unconvinced smile before moving on.
Marlene noticed the Veela's expression and leaned away from her canvas to see what he painted. "Drew, is that suppose to be the bowl of fruit?"
He groaned in frustration, looking at her canvas. "Yes! I just don't get it! I am doing exactly what she told me to do, and yet, it came out like that. I don't know how you do it."
"I've been doing this for awhile," the Gryffindor said, a bit of laughter in her voice. "You just need some practice."
"I think I need a break," the Veela said, setting down his brush. He quickly looked through his bag. "Do you want to sneak into Hogsmeade with me tonight? I ran out of sweets."
"I can't. The boys asked me for a favor."
"What do you have to do?"
"They want me to have a quick chat with Peeves," Marls said, putting a finishing touch to her painting. "They need him as a distraction for another prank."
"Peeves?" the Ravenclaw asked. "How'd they convince you to do that?"
"That's the fun part," she said, smiling. It was the same smile that had caused them to end up in detention cleaning Hogwarts' goo-covered trophies. "They said they would do anything I want."
"Oh?" Andrew asked, surprised. "They truly underestimated your favors."
"I know! I think they've gone insane."
Professor Burbage ended the class with an announcement of a future art exhibition Hogwarts was holding and asked the class if they wished to participate—cautiously glancing at the Veela as she did. At the news, Marlene told him she would see him later before going to sign up.
Leaving the classroom, he saw Dorcus waiting for him at the end of the hallway, her twisted hair up in a bun. She nervously chewed on her lip as she waited for him to speak.
"The boys did their part," he assured her, signaling to her to walk with him. "Though, I think they'll regret it later."
"Good," she sighed. "Now, we'll have to skip dinner and head to the kitchens."
"Lily will get worried," Andrew realized. "Should we—"
Dorcas shook her head. "Way ahead of you. Lily will suggest they both work together to appease that awful poltergeist."
"Why—"
"She would prefer it if no one got hurt," she said, walking towards a door in the entrance hall. "Plus, she's secretly a romantic."
Andrew agreed.
A few days ago, he saw the Gryffindor witch reading a copy of Pride and Prejudice in the library during one of their study sessions. Dorcas had explained the premise of the muggle book once his curiosity was caught. The Ravenclaw had asked his friend if he could borrow her book, and quite shyly, Lily let him read it over the week.
He couldn't help but see certain similarities between James and Lily and the two main love interests. He decided not to mention it once he returned it.
They reached a staircase that led them down to a broad stone basement corridor that contained a painting of a bowl of fruit on its walls.
Disgruntled at the image, Andrew tickled the single pear on the canvas—a trick the boys had taught him—causing it to giggle before turning into a doorknob.
They entered the large room where a collection of sounds and smells had erupted as the school's house-elves scrambled to place an assortment of food on five long tables, perfectly placed to mimic the ones in the Great Hall.
"Mr. Knight, Ms. Meadowes!"
They heard the pitter patters of scurrying feet as one of the elves ran towards them while a heated pot floated behind him. His bright, blue eyes glittered with excitement as he stood in front of the duo.
"Hello, Valby," Dorcas greeted, looking warily at the sloshing stew. "Be careful there. You don't want to hurt yourself. I hope you've been doing well."
"Valby is good today, miss," the elf responded quickly. He was nearly jumping with joy as he did. "Very busy he is."
"I can see that," she said as she glanced at her watch. "I don't want to keep you for too long. Um, did you manage to get the ingredients?"
The elf nodded. "Yes, miss. One moment!"
He ran towards the closest table to set down the pot before snapping his fingers. A stand appeared near one of the corner stone ovens as a fresh pick of vegetables and other additives were delicately placed on top.
"I's could cook for ya's," Valby pleads. "Loves to cook Valby does."
"No, thank you," Andrew said, not failing to see the disappointment in the elf's eyes. "We'll call you whenever we need help though."
Valby seemed satisfied with his response, saying goodbye with a quick yet reluctant nod before returning to help the rest of the kitchen staff.
The two Ravenclaw students made their way to the table and looked at their supplies. They grabbed the aprons from the stand before looking at each other.
"Okay," Andrew began, "did you bring the book?"
Dorcas reached into her school bag and took out a thick, blue book. "Yep. Now, we just have to get the pots and pans, and we can start cooking."
"Ok, Dorc. What are we preparing tonight?"
"I thought we could do some Scottish dishes Marlene likes. I want her to feel comfortable for dinner. However, we better hurry. Madam Pince still doesn't know this book is missing from the library."
While they were on patrol, Dorcas had told him that she had wanted to plan a romantic dinner for Marlene and officially ask her out. She had asked the boys to create a distraction for McKinnon, so she could miss dinner and come back to a warm meal—created with the help of the Veela.
"My mother would always say that the best way to someone's heart," Dorcas dictated when he asked why they couldn't use magic, "is handmade food."
It was also in that moment in which they found a couple making out in a supply closet—a traumatizing situation for all of them.
After collecting their bearings and taking away some points from the respective house, the Hispanic boy agreed. However, a couple of steps into the recipes, he believed she truly underestimated their partnership in the kitchen.
"Andrew! You're going to cut yourself with that knife!"
"I won't! Watch the stove or the mince is going to burn!"
"You're adding too much salt!"
"You forgot to preheat the oven, Meadowes!"
It was nearly two hours into cooking with the anxious atmosphere, and the two found themselves sitting on the floor with exhaustion flowing through their bodies. They looked at each other and began to laugh.
"You have whip cream on your—" Dorcas gasped through her words as she pointed at his covered cheeks.
The Ravenclaw boy swiped at his face, chuckling. "At least I don't have cheese in my hair."
"Gross," she said, pulling out bits of the shredded dairy. "Lesson learned. We don't belong together in the kitchen."
He smiled. "Agreed."
They stilled for a few moments, taking in the different yet delicious smells wafting through the air. Andrew turned to Dorcas, who had a dreamy look, before remembering a past conversation.
"By the way," he said, groaning as he stretched his legs, "you never finished telling us how you and Marlene got together."
Dorcas thought about it for a second.
"I haven't, haven't I?" she said, sitting up. "Well, like I told you and Lily before, our families had found one another in Kiruna and decided that it would be more fun if we did everything together. It was pretty fun. Did you know you can go reindeer sledding?"
Andrew shook his head.
"Well, you can. Anyway, on our remaining days of our trip, we decided to go on a tour to see the Northern Lights. It was a six hour trip, so Marlene and I had nothing but time to talk. I'm going to be honest: I've always kind of liked her, but I didn't think I had a chance. As far as I knew, Marls only liked boys.
"We talked about everything and nothing. Our families, friends, Hogwarts. Once we got to the cabin, we decided to sneak off while they were getting ready to set up the bonfire. We went into the nearby woods, not too far that we could get lost. We found a lake and decided to do a bit of ice skating.
"And being the wanker that I am, I thought 'if I'm good at quidditch, I can be good at skating,'" she chuckled. "You can guess what happened next."
Andrew smiled. "I told you you should've practiced with me last Christmas."
"Whatever," she said jokingly, rolling her eyes. "After falling multiple times and making myself look like an arse, Marlene started to guide me around the ice. She taught me a few tricks, but even then, we were falling over and over again. We eventually made our way back to the group with probably more bruises than a biker gang.
"Suddenly, the sky became brighter and beautiful strings of colors were above us. I looked at her and . . . she was glowing. It was as if she was made from the very stars. I looked into her eyes, and I knew. I kissed her. For a moment, I thought she was going to yell at me, but . . . she kissed me back.
"After our trip, we continued to send each other letters. I've never gotten this close to anyone before, Drew," she whispered, emotion clear in her dark eyes. "I think she might be it for me. My dove."
There was only ever one other time that Dorcas had mentioned doves to Andrew. They were both fifteen when they had come out to one another. In trying to understand their feelings, they investigated the many types of love left behind in history and the symbolisms that came with it.
Late one night, Dorcas had found a passage about the white dove. It represented many things—peace, devotion, grace, and hope—but what she most wanted was love. She adored the fact that, once they mate, their love was for life.
The Ravenclaw swore she would one day find her love, her dove.
She had her fair share of girlfriends, but none of them had ever made her feel like she did now. Andrew knew this was different for her.
The Veela held her hand, giving it a squeeze. "I'm happy for you."
"I hope you find yours," she said, a smile on her face. She rested her head on the wall. "Though, I think you already found him."
The door to the kitchen opened, followed by a collection of footsteps. The Ravenclaws stood up to see the Marauders and Lily standing next to the ovens. The Gryffindor girl's eyes were wide at the sight of the mess.
"What happened here?" she asked, staring at the dirty pots and pans as well as the scattered bits of food on the floor. "How did you—"
"Long story," the Ravenclaws answered in unison, laughter in their voices.
Lily shook her head. "Well, whatever happened you need to clean up. You don't have a lot of time before Marlene gets here. Peeves pelted her with itching powder bombs, so she's taking a shower. I'll help Dorcas. Andrew, could you smarten up the boys?"
"I don't know, Lily," James said, fixing his robes. "I think we look quite dashing. Don't you agree, Padfoot?"
Sirius smirked. "I very much do, Prongs."
"Keep telling yourself that, boys." Andrew ribbed, noticing James' and Lily's lack of tension. He shook off the crumbs from his apron before pulling the wand from his boot. "Okay, señores. Line up."
The troublemakers formed a line as the Veela approached them. Using Multicorfors, the Hispanic boy began to transform their school robes into matching, red vests. He casted a couple of cleaning spells to get rid of any lint or stains that may have remained from their school activities.
Once he had finished with Sirius, he noticed that his tie was knotted incorrectly.
"Let me fix that," he uttered as he picked at the knot. "We can't let our waiters go around looking informal now, can we?"
Just as he pushed the necktie back into place, he noticed the slow breaths the Gryffindor was taking. He looked up to see Sirius' grey eyes piercing into his, and for a second, the Veela couldn't think.
They were grey like the morning fog, impenetrable and all-consuming. It reminded him of his old cottage in the English country-side. A getaway where his parents would picnic next to a nearby river while the young Veela plucked at wild plants—a way to bring cheer to such dreary days. Like the cool mist, they sent a shiver down Andrew's spine as he got lost into the boy's gaze.
It was almost as if he was home again.
A flicker of confusion appeared in the taller boy's face as Andrew desperately tried to find something to say. The Veela looked away as he saw how close they truly were—their faces only inches away—not sure if he wanted to move away.
The Veela hesitantly pulled his hands away from the boys chest, making an excuse about checking the food. He neared the oven and slipped on a pair of oven mitts before taking out the steaming dishes.
A small voice echoed in his mind.
You like him.
Before he could ponder anymore, a voice—not the one in his head—interrupted the confusing atmosphere.
"What's going on here?"