Wednesdays are supposed to be Guinevere's happy time. Potions class is supposed to be her happy place. Now Sirius Black is ruining that.
She supposes he really isn't to blame for that. Not entirely, at least. She's partially at fault for punching him in the face and then purposefully avoiding him in the days afterward. But even if he isn't at fault, it's still indirectly his fault. She wants to be angry at him. She wants to be pissed at him. She wants to find an excuse to ignore him further. She's aware that it's a petty wish, one meant to ease her own guilt.
But goddammit, she's a teenager. She's allowed to be irrational.
She's spent all morning trying to come up with some way to ignore Sirius's presence during potions class. Maybe she could rush in ahead of everyone else and rush out the same way. Maybe she could pretend to be sick in order to get herself out of class for the day. Maybe she could just stop going to potions altogether.
None seem like solid plans.
In the end, she merely gathers up what little courage she has and marches herself into potions class with Lily by her side. Her heart stutters in her chest when she passes by James and Sirius's table. She sees it all in slow motion; Sirius turning towards her with an unreadable expression and a small purple bruise painted on his high cheekbone, James giving her an apologetic look, the entire class staring at her and Lily glaring back at as many of them as she can.
Guinevere holds her chin up high as she strides to her seat and sits down next to Lily. She can feel all the eyes in the room burning a hole in the back of her head. The chatter that she usually hears at the beginning of class is completely absent. Everyone is too busy staring at her, waiting for her to do…
Do what, exactly?
Professor Slughorn obviously doesn't sense the tension in the classroom like his students do, because he presses on teaching with his usual boisterous attitude.
"I do hope you all remembered today's test, because it's going to take you all class!" he declares.
A collective groan spreads throughout the room.
Guinevere chokes on air.
She completely forgot about the test. How could she forget about the test? She never forgets about tests. School is what she's good at, especially potions. In muggle primary school she was subpar at best, but the sheer joy she gains from learning about all the intricate facets of the magical world has turned her into a teacher's pet. She's never failed a test at Hogwarts before.
The fear and anxiety are already starting to take hold of her.
"Please get together with your partners from last week!"
Now it's overflowing.
Guinevere shoots Lily a look that can only be described as desperate. Her friend returns it with a look of utmost sympathy before getting out of her seat, mouthing 'sorry' as she turns to go find a seat with Cordelia Jenkins.
Guinevere's eyes snap back to the desk in front of her, desperate to avoid looking at Sirius Black as he takes his seat next to her. Instead, she intently watches the cauldron appearing on the table, as if focusing on it will in some way help her pass this test.
A few seconds pass in silence between the two of them. To Guinevere, they could have been hours and she wouldn't have known the difference.
"We're making a love potion antidote."
She finally looks up and meets his eyes. But first, her eyes go to the slight bruise on his cheek.
She's still surprised that she managed to hit him hard enough to leave a bruise. Sure, she's not weak, per say, but there's a reason why she's a chaser instead of a beater. Besides, Sirius Black doesn't seem the type to bruise easily. He's rather… sturdy, in Guinevere's eyes. It seems like he'd be thick-skinned, both physically and metaphorically.
"Uh, Guin?"
Guinevere snaps out of her trance like state and realizes she hasn't made a single move to begin the potion.
"Oh, right, the potion," she sputters out.
Her eyes quickly scan over the collection of ingredients laid out in front of them.
There's Wiggentree twigs, Castor oil, and extract of Gurdyroot…
She has no idea what order they go in to make a love potion antidote.
The anxiety is back.
She has no idea how long to stir in the Castor oil or whether the Gurdyroot goes in before or after the Wiggentree twigs or what color the potions is supposed to turn and dear Merlin she's going to fail -
"Guin! Guin, calm down!"
Sirius's concerned whispers sound like white noise to her. She recognizes he's saying something to her, but she can't comprehend the words coming out of his mouth, as if she's hearing it underwater. The only words she hears come from her inner voice, telling her she's a failure.
When Sirius takes out his wand and starts a fire underneath the cauldron, Guinevere finally looks up at him. In her panicked haze, she still swears she can see some amount of concern in his stormy grey eyes. However, it flickers away so quickly that it could have just been her imagination.
"Add Wiggentree twigs until the potion turns green," he tells her gently.
In a haze, she does as he says.
It goes on like that, with Sirius giving her directions on how to make the antidote. He recites it like he's reading out of a book. It never even crossed her mind that despite the fact that she didn't study, Sirius did. The infuriating git that she's spent most of her time in Hogwarts looking down on prepared for this test when even she didn't.
Guilt rolls over in her stomach, but she puts it aside and continues following his directions.
Eventually, the concoction begins to turn pink, which Sirius informs her is a sign that the potion is finished. With shaky hands, she pours some of the potion into a small vial and deposits it on Slughorn's desk. Her professor gives her an encouraging smile. She smiles back.
When she makes her way back to her table, Sirius is silent. Even as the rest of the class begins finishing up and talking amongst themselves, Sirius still doesn't utter a word. He doesn't even look at her. His gaze stays firmly on the table.
For the first time in her life, Guinevere finds herself longing for an annoying comment from Sirius Black.
As the rest of the remaining testing partners begin to finish up and the end of class begins to to near, Sirius still isn't meeting Guinevere's gaze. His bruised cheek is facing her, on front display. It's a small bruise, all things considering. It's still that fresh reddish hue that will no doubt turn a blueish-purple as the days pass. Guinevere has received enough bruises from Quidditch to know this from personal experience. But there's something strange about seeing a bruise she caused; on someone else, no less.
Without even thinking, she reaches up and brushes her fingers against the bruise. Sirius flinches away from her violently, as if she's about to punch him again. She retracts her hand, her face burning with shame. She's not sure what came over her. Acting without thinking is a bad habit of hers. Sirius's bruise is evidence of that.
As soon as Slughorn dismisses the class, Sirius gets up out of his seat and stalks towards the door without looking back. He doesn't stick around and chat aimlessly with Guinevere. He doesn't wait for James to pry himself away from Freyja Timbleton so they can leave together. He doesn't even call after her as he leaves so he can annoy her with that blasted nickname. He just… takes off.
With no clear motive in mind, Guinevere takes off after him.
She elbows her way through the crowd of students leaving potions class, her eyes locked on a retreating curly haired figure. As she catches up with him, her hand shoots out to grabs his. He whips his head around, his brows furrowed, and fight in his eyes. For a brief moment, Guinevere is sure he's going to punch her in the face just as she did to him the day before. When his dark eyes scan her face, the angry spark is extinguished. She briefly wonders what gave a teenage boy from a rich family such an intense flight or fight response to such simple actions, but the thought leaves as her head as quickly as it came.
What is it she planned to say to him again?
Guinevere tugs on his hand, pulling him towards the only private place she can think of: the broom closets.
Sirius is a strong enough bloke; by her estimation, he's at least 175 centimeters tall, as well as being decently toned. He's not freakishly strong and stocky like Avery or Mulciber, but he's certainly larger than her. He could easily yank his hand away or dig his heels into the ground and refuse to be moved. Yet he lets her continue to drag him away. Guinevere decides to interpret this as permission.
Still latching onto Sirius's hand for dear life, she pries open one of the broom closet doors and interrupts the couple inside beginning to reach under each other's robes. Their lips break apart as they turn to glare at Guinevere.
"Do you mind?" the Hufflepuff girl snaps.
Guinevere rolls her eyes. She hasn't the time nor the patience to argue with horny teenagers.
She uses her free hand to grab ahold of the Hufflepuff girl's robe and hauls her out of the closet.
"I need this closet more than you need to get your leg over. Find somewhere else to paw at each other."
The Hufflepuff girl huffs indignantly at Guinevere's demand, but nonetheless grabs the Ravenclaw girl she had been snogging and drags her away while murmuring curses under her breath.
Guinevere pulls Sirius into the closet with her, closing the door behind them. The door acts as a complete barrier to the hustle and bustle of the Hogwarts halls. All Guinevere can hear is the sounds of Sirius's breaths, slightly quicker and louder than normal, and the blood pumping in her ears. If the room didn't feel so suffocating, she supposes she'd hear her own breaths as well.
She sticks her wand up and whispers,
"Lumos."
A bright light streams out of the end of her wand, illuminating both their faces in the pitch-black closet.
The first thing Guinevere's eyes drift to is the bruise, slightly less prominent in the dim light. The second thing she focuses on is his deep set frown.
"Pull me away from some afternoon snogging, Driscoll?" he asks, his tone carrying a little more bite than it usually does. "I'm sorry to say I'm not feeling quite in the mood."
Guinevere grimaces. She can't remember the last time Sirius called her by her surname, much less used such a clipped tone with her. If she didn't know how badly she messed up before, now she certainly does.
Before she can lose her courage, she heaves in a breath.
"I wanted to apologize for punching you in the face," she blurts out.
The scowl slips away.
"It was my own fault that I mucked up my try out and it was way out of line to blame it on you, much less to punch you in the face, especially hard enough to leave a -,"
"Driscoll!" Sirius barks.
Guinevere shuts her mouth, choking on unspoken words. She holds her breath while Sirius reaches out and grips both her shoulders, leaning down slightly so they're eye to eye.
"I'm not miffed about you punching me," he admits.
She stares at him, wondering if that punch addled his brain. If she's that strong, maybe she should have been a beater after all…
"Then why have you been treating me like your own personal boggart?" she snaps.
Her own malice takes her aback. She tells herself that she isn't angry that she's being ignored by him, per say. She's just angry at being ignored. It's the principle, not the person.
Sirius lets out an annoyed huff, reminding Guinevere of a frustrated child.
"Because I messed up your try out, that's why!" he exclaims.
Guinevere blinks at him. She fights back laughter; whether it's from shock or from relief, she doesn't know. Here she was thinking he viewed her punching him as an irredeemable act worthy of being shunned, when in actuality, he thought his actions were irredeemable and worthy of being shunned. Obviously, James didn't tell him that she made it onto the team.
Once the initial shock passes, the confusion settles in. Why in Merlin's name does Sirius Black care whether or not he messed up her try out? The two of them have never been even remotely friendly with each other, and Guinevere can reluctantly recall a few times when she was less than kind to him for little reason besides relieving anger he didn't even cause. She wouldn't blame him for finding some joy in the fact that he messed up her try out.
If he actually did. Which he didn't; a fact that James apparently didn't divulge to him.
Guinevere gives into her urges and lets out a short, breathy laugh.
"Sirius, you didn't mess up my try out."
He perks up in a way that reminds Guinevere of a dog when it hears the word "fetch".
"You mean you made it on to the team?" he asks, sounding as hopeful as he dares.
"Yeah, you're looking at one of the Gryffindor chasers, 3rd year running. I'm guessing James didn't tell you?"
Guinevere watches a litany of emotions pass over Sirius's face in a matter of seconds; from shock, to confusion, to anger, and finally to realization.
"The traitorous git refused to tell me whether or not you made it on the team. I thought he just didn't want to make me feel worse about you getting cut."
Guinevere furrows her brow in confusion. It doesn't sound like James to torment his best mate like that, even if just for a prank. He's mischievous, not cruel.
Then it all clicks.
"He was trying to get us to speak to each other," she whispers, more to herself than to Sirius. But he seems to hear her regardless.
"That conniving bastard!" Sirius huffs, but it seems to lack any real anger. In fact, unless Guinevere is horribly mistaken, he seems slightly amused by it all.
Admittedly, she's amused as well. James's scheme was simple, but well thought out. Both parties believed the other to be angry at them for something, and James knew it was only a matter of time until one of them tried to apologize and the entire story would come out.
It's times like this when Guinevere remembers why James is the undisputed King of Pranks at Hogwarts.
With the issue at hand resolved, a stifling silence settles over the two of them. By now, the light in her wand has gone out, and neither is making a move to leave. No matter how much Guinevere wants to bolt out of the closet, some invisible force glues her to her spot. The heat building in the confined space causes her cheeks to heat up and sweat to form on her brow.
"So…" Sirius mumurs, breaking the silence. Guinevere wishes she didn't just realize how close they are. She can feel his warm breath on her face. It smells like peppermint.
At least he doesn't have morning breath.
When he speaks again, his voice is no longer soft, and she can practically hear the smirk in his tone.
"You sure you don't wanna have a little snog before our next class, Gwen Of Air? I'm suddenly in the mood."
Guinevere rolls her eyes, praying that he can't see the grin on her face in the dark.
"Not even in your dreams, Black. Now be a gentleman and open the door for me."
Sirius chuckles and reaches over her to open the door, making a big show of bowing and letting her out first. She strides out into the corridor with a spring in her step, ignoring the scandalized looks of other students. They'll no doubt be spreading rumors by dinner time of the mudblood's torrid love affair with the heir to the most well known pure blooded family in wizarding history. She can already think of several people who will be out for her head.
At this moment, Guinevere is far too happy to care.