Disclaimer: I do not own the book The Great Santini. It was written by Pat Conroy and published in 1976 by Houghton Mifflin.

As always, translations :)

merde (French) - shit

un ivrogne (French) – a drunkard

"When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me speaking words of wisdom: let it be." – The Beatles, 1970

Marianne Minot exhaled deeply and ignored the snoring portraits in front of her. Although she normally loved rainy April evenings – the atmosphere just called for a plush armchair, good book and piping hot cup of tea – tonight, for some reason, she dreaded the stormy weather. It unnerved her.

Marianne eventually passed Professor Slughorn's office, continuing her late night Prefect duties on the Sixth Floor. Although she had not encountered any trouble so far, the Ravenclaw knew from experience that ill behaved students lurked at every hour of the night. Her shift was coming to a close, but that did not mean she was destined for thirty minutes of solitude.

"Merde," she grumbled tempestuously.

Marianne continued on and soldiered down Glanmore Peakes' Corridor towards the East Wing; the portraits' wheezes faded into the distance. When she reached the large wooden doors, the Prefect let out another small huff just before greeting the two suits of armor that guarded the large hall.

"Have you seen any students tonight?"

"… We have not," they answered after several pregnant pauses. Marianne's eyes narrowed. They normally weren't this slow.

"Are you sure?"

"… Yes, Ma'am."

"Have you been bewitched to say that?"

" … Certainly not."

She rolled her eyes before muttering a generic, but strong counter curse under her breath. The suits twitched slightly and returned to their original conditions. They uncrossed their pikes and granted her entry.

"There is one student inside, Ma'am. We will alert Argus Filch."

"Thank you, but that will not be necessary. I will deal with them myself."

They nodded and opened the door for her. When Marianne entered, she noticed that a black haired boy with his back turned to her had lit a fire in the large ornate fireplace and pulled a couch directly in front of it. He was hunched over, scribbling away on some piece of parchment, and paid her no attention. At first, Marianne didn't recognize him, but when she saw a discarded gold and scarlet tie next to a large pile of brand new Zonko's products, she deduced the occupant.

"Sirius Black?" she tested. "Is that you?"

The Gryffindor threw a glare over his shoulder, his eyes piercing with indignation; he exhaled a stream of smoke before placing his cigarette between his lips and going back to his scribblings. Marianne frowned. Her gut told her to forcefully send him back to his Common Room, but her compassionate side knew he was still hurting from his recent breakup with Gemma. It would be better to do it nicely. She sat down on the couch next to him and he still ignored her completely, his eyes fixed on his last minute Charms essay.

"Sirius," she said gently, "it's almost midnight. I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to go back to Gryffindor Tower."

"You're sorry?" he repeated, taking offense. "Bullocks."

"Sirius, I don't really have a choice."

"Stop saying my name like that!" he demanded. "I'm not a charity case. Now clear off, I've got to finish this."

"I'm not -"

"Diamonds, expensive robes - you're so high and mighty, aren't you?" the boy snapped. "Marianne Minot, plantation heiress, taking pity on the renegade, Sirius Black."

"Sirius -"

"I said stop saying my name like that!"

"Enough!" Marianne finally exploded. Her fists balled up at her sides. "I am not pitying you, I am only telling you very nicely that you can't be outside of the your Common Room this late. It's my job to tell people that."

"Bullocks," he restated and rolled his eyes.

"Look, I know you have a certain talent for breaking the rules, and normally I wouldn't be this insistent, but the suits know you're in here. My hands are tied."

"You reversed the spell?" he groaned. "Fan-fucking-tastic." A surprised gasp tumbled out of her mouth.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Why should I even tell you? You'll never understand." Sirius slammed down his quill in anger and proceeded to roll up his parchment, packing up his things in a hurry. Marianne sat transfixed, still not believing his list of insults. She figured he would lighten up around her now that she was with Remus.

"You could try me."

"You have everything you could ever want, all with a haughty snap of your fingers," he sassed. "You've never lost it all. And you never will. That's why you'll never understand." His word stung, more than anything he'd said so far.

"You know I'm not like the rest of them," she said, just above a whisper.

"True." His eyes went wild. "But I can tell you from personal experience that you can't straddle both sides forever, dear. It will all come crashing down someday. All of it. You make decisions and your life changes forever. Sometimes you don't even mean to make them, they just happen. And then you're alone, left to pick up the fucking pieces."

Marianne tried her best not to take his remarks personally and cry; Sirius was clearly still tormented by his family and drunken decision on James' birthday. He stood up abruptly, shoved his homework into his leather messenger bag and threw it over his shoulder. As a last sign of disrespect, he bowed grandiosely.

"Good luck with the rest of your patrol, Miss Minot. Sorry to be such an inconvenience."

The door slammed shut, but Marianne barely heard it; she stared at the fire, bewildered and befuddled. She eventually lowered her face into her hands. Her logical side tried to console her, reasoning that he was just taking all of his anger out on her, but her emotional side couldn't help but feel extremely mistreated.

After a couple of minutes, the Prefect returned her hands to her sides, took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling.

"Almost done," she reminded herself as she pushed down her misery. "Almost there."

Marianne rose to her feet and thanked the suits of armor for their service. After they crossed their pikes and returned to their duties, the Ravenclaw returned to her own and continued down the corridor, desperately hoping that she would not have to deal with any other students out of bed. She thankfully got her wish and when her Prefect shift on the Sixth Floor finally ended, she rushed towards the nearest staircase. Instead of venturing towards the Ravenclaw Tower, she sauntered up to the Seventh Floor, and more specifically, the Room of Requirement.

After pacing, Marianne quickly pushed the Room's door open and jumped inside to be reunited with the only person who made her feel at ease. This time, she noticed, their secret getaway was quite different, for the turquoise Caribbean waters were inky and dark with the reflection of the waning Moon splashed across its waves. A cool tropical breeze brushed against her exposed skin and Marianne turned to see a rustic gazebo sitting on their favorite beach.

The romantic gesture warmed her heart, but the Ravenclaw's lips drooped downwards; for some reason, she still felt unnerved and twitchy and Sirius' outburst certainly hadn't calmed her down. Marianne kicked off her shoes - stopping for a moment to wiggle her toes in the sand - and then made her way up the stairs of the small oceanfront structure. She hoped Remus wouldn't ask about her day. She didn't want to relive it all over again. Yet, instead of poking and prodding, he asked a simple question as he turned around and gestured to the cup in his right hand.

"Tea?"

"Oh yes please," she sighed. "That would be lovely."

"Right then," Remus grinned, motioning to the wicker love seat in between them, "I'll be over in a second." She sat down, pulled a thin blanket over her legs and smiled softly when he handed her a delicate white cup and saucer. She took a sip and felt the warmth from the tea spread throughout her body.

"This is delicious."

"It's peach," Remus beamed. "And decaffeinated."

"Thank you," she muttered into her cup as she took another sip. After another graceful swallow, Marianne put her cup down, nestled against him and felt his arm slowly curl around her shoulders. She adjusted her blanket and threw part of it over Remus' legs to further ensnare him.

For a moment, the Ravenclaw considered telling her boyfriend about her earlier run in with his best friend. She knew they weren't on speaking terms because Remus was extremely angry with him for cheating on Gemma, but also felt that Sirius' biting words had actual teeth and didn't want to reexamine them. She finally decided that this was not the time to speak about such matters and silently let her head rest against Remus' chest. A few moments later, her jittery fingers picked up her teacup and lifted it towards her mouth.

"So."

Despite the tea's calming effects, Marianne's throat tightened. She dreaded Remus' next words and hoped they had nothing to do with Sirius.

"How did I do?"

"Er, sorry - what?"

"The book I gave you," Remus laughed, "The Great Santini. You asked for something to read, but gave very strict instructions to find something that you would never otherwise come across. I loaned you a contemporary American Muggle novel … so how did I do?"

Marianne gulped and looked down at her tea, her nervousness intensifying with every breath.

"You hated it, didn't you?"

"No," she muttered softly.

"Have you even started it? Is that why you have such a guilty look on your face?"

"I finished it a couple hours after you gave it to me, actually. I couldn't put it down. I even went to the library the next day to look up all the Muggle references I didn't understand," Marianne admitted. Remus' eyebrows popped up in surprise. "I just don't know how I feel about the story." She let an aloof puff of air pass between her lips. "Who is your favorite character?"

"Mary Anne," Remus smiled, mentioning the main character's younger sister. "And not because her name is the American pronunciation of yours. She's absolutely hilarious. You?"

"I don't know."

"Well then, you really are conflicted. It seems we must do a full analysis of the text to get to the bottom of this," the Gryffindor teased. "Start from the beginning …"

Marianne rolled her eyes dramatically, but still obliged him.

"The book follows a family of American Muggles as they move from Georgia to South Carolina – both are on the Atlantic side of the country, if I'm not mistaken. The father, Bull Meecham, is in the Marine Corps – what seems to be Muggle armed forces – and makes them to move around from base to base. To him, everything revolves around the Marines. He treats the rest of his family like new recruits, making them recite the official Corps Hymn over and over again and beating them into submission."

"Sometimes literally," Remus lamented.

"Yes, sometimes literally," Marianne agreed with a frown. Her agitation continued to grow with every word she spoke. "And his wife, Lillian, is a beautiful woman with such a big heart and tries to mediate the conflict between her husband and her children, but she can't overtake him, because a difference of opinion isn't tolerated … So you have this alcoholic fighter, who dubs himself 'The Great Santini' and never lets anyone get the best of him, ruling over his kin with an iron fist and taking most of his anger out on his eldest son, Ben. He humiliates the boy every chance he gets."

"Because he's jealous," Remus cut in. "He can't stand the thought of his own son becoming bigger and stronger than The Santini."

"Right," she agreed, "so there's a power struggle between the two the entire book. The rest of the family has their own little stories – I agree, Mary Anne's sarcasm and wit is extremely entertaining – but I couldn't stop reading until I figured out who won, so to speak."

"Did you like the ending then?"

"I don't know. I'm still conflicted."

"So, it seems you love Ben."

"But I don't know if he's my favorite character."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Marianne groaned as she set her teacup down. "I feel like I should. He takes after his mother and becomes friends with the outcasts of the town. I didn't know this, but at the time if you were white, befriending an African American was frowned upon. It just wasn't done. So he's compassionate and courageous, all at once … but he's stubborn and brash, just like his father."

"Who you can't help but loathe."

"But you don't." She leapt to her feet and unknowingly began to pace back and forth, her hands moving grandiosely to punctuate each sentence. "You want to hate him, you really do. He's a horrible man who thrusts unwanted tradition on you. He wants to you to be perfect, even if that means you have to break the rules sometimes. And he is un ivrogne. He drinks and drinks and then comes home to pick on your defenseless family. So you want to stand up to him, to give him a taste of his own medicine …"

Marianne's eyes floated towards the horizon.

"But you can't. Because he's your father, the man who raised you … the man who provides for you and keeps you from falling into the cracks. You feel like you owe him, but at the same time, you know that he's not always the bad person you make him out to be. He's passionate, courageous, steadfast … and very hilarious at times. You love him … and you hate him … and …"

"Marianne," Remus said softly, "you aren't talking about the book anymore, are you?"

As his words hung in the air, Marianne realized he was right. She was not talking about Bull Meecham, she was describing her own father, who shared many of the fictional character's strengths and weaknesses. Seconds later, her disquietude finally reached its peak; as another wave crashed upon the shore, her emotions overwhelmed her and reduced her to silent tears. Remus reached out to comfort her, but she brushed away his affection and gravitated towards the other side of the gazebo. She sighed heavily and wiped away the black streaks of mascara from under her eyes with the end of her luxurious silk sleeve.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have given you something else to read." Marianne took a deep breath.

"No," she began to analyze, "it's not you're fault. I think it's a lot more than that. Shall we look at all the facts? I have a father who's breeding me to become the perfect heiress, but I learned to mask all my objections with a hard edged personality to survive … and I don't want to anymore. I don't like it. I want to just be. The duality is making me jittery, high strung … so when I ran into Sirius -"

"When?" Remus interjected suspiciously.

"Tonight, just before I got here," she explained, her sanity growing with every confession. "I had to shoo him out of the East Hall. He practically exploded, telling me I couldn't straddle both worlds. I tried to brush it off – I know he's still tormenting himself for his betrayal – but I think that when I was describing Ben's thoughts towards his father, I finally let my real worries out. Analyzing the book helped me channel my own emotions, to get to the real reason why I've been upset for the past couple of days."

She paused for a moment to look down at her bare feet.

"I'm sorry for ruining our literary discussion."

Marianne expected Remus to keep his distance, but instead, he crossed over towards her and gently placed his hands on the sides of her face. Her lip quivered emotionally as she looked directly into his eyes; her heart raced with insecurity. However, all of her doubts slowly melted away when she noticed that he was wolfishly grinning.

"What?" she asked. "What's so funny?"

He laughed softly, kissed the top of her head and pulled her into his arms.

"Do you know how precious you are?" he whispered into her ear, his breath tickling her neck. "You just had an existential crisis, but you're more upset about ruining our scholarly debate."

"I can't help it," she said with a small laugh, her smiling growing by the second.

"Merlin, I love you," Remus muttered just before he ducked down and pressed his lips against hers. Marianne's smile widened and she delicately kissed him back, snaking her arms around his neck.

"Do – do you think you could stay for a bit longer?" Marianne tested when they finally broke apart.

"Here?" he clarified. "In the Room of the Requirement?"

"I don't want to," she said with a gulp, "do anything sexual, I just want you to hold me."

Remus nodded tenderly and the room quickly responded to their intentions, making the wicker loveseat transform into a rustic white four-poster bed. The Seventh Years pulled back the linen sheets and nestled and wiggled until they reached a comfortable position under the covers. She sighed happily and Remus yawned loudly just before kissing her shoulder and resting his head next to hers.

And moments later, all of Marianne's problems vanished as she let herself just …

Be.

Author's note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/favorited this fic so far. You guys really make my day, for real :D