"For Merlin's sake, Potter," an onslaught of strategically-aimed linens,
launched by the sheet-enshrouded mound I assumed was Sirius, pummeled me
into wakefulness. Groggily, I wrenched sleep-encrusted eyelids open,
revealing a raven-coated beast roughly the size of a single compartment of
the Hogwart's Express, hovering above me, paws rooted insistently upon my
chest, tongue flopping unbidden.
A shower of saliva oozed across my forehead. "Is it absolutely imperative for you to carry on about your bloody Lily in the midst of my imaginary orgies?" I ruffled his ears amiably, snorting "You know I can't resist your puppy face, Padfoot, but the drooling, mate, the drooling's bound to result in retaliatory hexing." He rewarded my announcement with a hiked leg and 'unjustly provoked' puddle of urine. "Evans will NEVER drool all over you, Potter, so someone else has to shoulder THAT heavenly responsibility."
Granted, this THRILLING opportunity to bond with caustic Sirius was not the most auspicious beginning for the first of September, Seventh Year. I'd previously concluded, and publicly proclaimed, that Pettigrew would be the one to piss himself today. Grudgingly, I placed a tiny fortune in galleons between Sirius's expectant jaws, barely avoiding an immanent mowing-down by Sirius's preferred ammunition, his lethally wagging tail. "Now that we're the kings of the castle, you've only got nine months left until our educational career is complete, Prongsie, and from my vantage point, Evans isn't itching to succumb to your virile self anymore than she's lusting after having a go with some devil's snare."
Blatantly dismissing his reference to the obvious, Evan's vow to eternally loathe me and consider me the most indescribably repulsive breed of pestilence she had ever, not to mention would ever, have the misfortune to encounter, I rumpled my hair, snarling murderously, "I'm no closer to dissolving our little wager than I was in First Year. EVANS WILL IRREVOCABLY AND INESCAPABLY RETURN MY AFFECTIONS! In fact, I've decided the time has come to raise the stakes a bit," Sirius growled his utter astonishment, collapsing onto his haunches in dismay. "Your Nimbus and invisibility cloak are hanging in the balance as your sheer insipidness proceeds to disclose itself, Potter. Evans would be as prone to reciprocating your puppy love as she would a Malfoy's."
I staggered to my feet, enraged that he would dare degrade my love...er...TOLERANCE for Lily Evans in such a fashion as comparing it to anything remotely associated with a Malfoy. I'd brought him into my home when his parents disowned him for his ties to Gryffindor House. I'd enmeshed him so deeply in the affairs of my family; my folks doted upon him as if the ungrateful prat had never been anyone but a Potter. And, after years of adoring his insufferable arse unconditionally, in a purely brotherly manner mind you, he had the gal to categorize me with the Malfoys!
"Potter, let's find you a new conquest, someone more doable than the unattainable Evans. McGonagall's way over due for a torrid love affair. Besides, I'd abhor the mere thought of you losing your beloved broom on my account," his whiskers twitched nonchalantly. I KERPLOPPED to my knees, nose-to-nose with the fluffy git, proclaiming courageously, "I'm not after some conquest where Lily Evans is concerned, Padfoot." Sirius panted in relief, a comically dopy grin contorting his canine countenance.
"Indeed, mate. I doubt even Dumbledore could concoct a spell boasting the required oomph to obliterate that emotional barrier she's erected about herself." I chuckled merrily, lounging contentedly beside him, declaring boldly, "Penetrating that barrier shall prove as trivial a task as positively trouncing the Slytherins at Quidditch. I'm questing for a much more sacred bounty these days."
Sirius's tail swept to and fro, as the poor fellow became consumed with anticipation. "You're not on about the sorcerer's stone again are ya? You know Dumbledore's guarding it with his very life...after last time." I guffawed raucously, reminiscing over that stunt during Fifth Year when a certain band of Marauders, who shall remain nameless, managed to swipe Dumbledore's latest invention from his office, for no nobler a purpose than persuading Moony the perilous mission could be accomplished.
"Everlasting youth pales in comparison to gaining Lily's consent to our marriage." Sirius gaped horrendously, eyes bulging from furry sockets, ears flat against his head in unrestrained terror, squeaking piteously with a decidedly Pettigrew-like methodology, "M..m...marriage?! As...as in one woman f...for t..the restofyourlife?! Bloody hell, Potter! I'd bawl my bloomin' eyes out! And I'm certain Evans will follow suite! D...does she know that you've lost all the marbles you never possessed?" Giddily, I presented him with THE ring, all fourteen carrots and shimmering, multi-facets of the countless embedded diamonds, emeralds, and rubies.
Abruptly, he commenced uncharacteristic hyperventilation, squirming about the room in a state of spontaneous convulsions, "Did you knock over a jewelry shop, Potter? Because those muggle "policemen" don't seem threatening, constantly indulging in their "donut" fetishes and "ticket" scribbling, but those "prisons..." I've heard many a tale of wizards being held captive in those fetid quarters, and the atrocities one's cellmates commit, bloody brutal! Actions are taken with brooms, which violate every heroic Quidditch principal." Gasping for breath, silver eyes pleading, I gripped his shoulder soothingly, "Embrace calmness, Black. I came by the ring honestly. You're in the company of a working man."
Sirius's flabbergasted expression was squelched by the decidedly welcome bellowing of my mum that breakfast was on the table. We scrambled downstairs, various puppy parts transforming into human limbs, as we catapulted ravenously toward the scrumptious fare. According to custom, mum greeted the pair of us with a dainty kiss on the cheek and exasperated rolling of her eyes.
Dad tossed wary glances in our respective directions, glasses slipping unheeded down the bridge of his nose, so engrossed was he in the current edition of the Daily Prophet. "Gentlemen," he acknowledged us dolefully, following his intense perusal of the paper, "I want you to promise me..." Sirius squirmed in his seat anxiously, indubitably prepared to swear on his entire family's tombstones (his fondest wish was to witness the immediate demise of all bearing the legendary name of Black) that he would do everything in his power to ensure James Potter was unsuccessful in his design of engagement to Lily Evans until a future date. "Promise me that you will make an effort, regardless of how negligible, to remain on civil terms with Severus Snape this year."
"But, Dad," I was unable to contain myself from thundering, despite countless grandeos gestures from Sirius, "You're employed by his father! You're well aware of the misery caused by forced interaction with that slimy, arrogant, pompous, revolting, despicable, insert expletive here every bloody day! How can you ask me to endure equivalent torture, and maintain my silence?!" Sirius elbowed me venomously in the ribs, grinning innocently at my father all the while.
"Oy, Mr. Potter? What do you reckon a self-proclaimed, holier-than-thou muggle-despiser is doing working for the Muggle Relations Department anyway?" Dad clapped Sirius on the back affectionately, staring wistfully through the fluttering, lace curtains into the wide world beyond.
"I'll tell you a secret, Sirius, my boy. I only wish the select few made privy to this information hadn't been 'requested' to suppress the truth. I know Dumbledore plans to explain this to you and your peers at the feast this evening, but I believe that the ray of hope he is encouraged to impress upon you exists, will only cloud the judgment of those incharge of deciding our future." I scooted my chair closer to my father, mesmerized and stupefied by his wisdom, his uncertainty about what tomorrow would bring.
"You see, son, there is dissention among certain members of the wizarding world, dissention, which will soon transform into absolute hatred of all who represent and employ decent magic, and, before the end of the impending war, generations of wizards will be annihilated in inconceivable numbers via torturous methods. There is no guarantee that you, or I, or James, or Mum, or your children, or even your children's' children will survive the massacres that await us."
Mum bustled into the dining area then, in a flurry of scarlet, satin skirt, smeared apron bearing the command, "That's Ms. Witch to you,", and dabbing at her eyes furiously, to no avail. Resting her chin tenderly atop his similarly stubborn tresses, she seethed desperately, "You. Weren't. Meant. To. Warn. Them. Dumbledore was supposed to deal with this!" Heedlessly, he swung her into his lap, brushing wayward strands of auburn locks behind her ear, "Dumbledore wasn't anymore thrilled about lying to them than I was, darling." "You're not...lying," she protested, but her words held no conviction, "you were simply..." Dad squeezed her hand, gallantly endeavoring to assure her somehow, "concealing the gravity of the situation," he supplied numbly.
"To answer your brilliant inquiry, Sirius," Dad continued gravely, "Snape's father works for the Muggle Relations Department to avoid suspicion of his true character, his ulterior motives, his activities behind closed doors. That is why you MUST attempt friendship with his son. Maintaining unity among the houses, regardless of ancient grudges, is the HOPE of victory in the days, weeks, months, and years to come." Returning to the kitchen bearing a mountainous stack of dishes, Mum shooed us upstairs to resume packing, rather start packing, which we refrained to correct her about, as she didn't need any more excuses to worry about her boys, for we'd be traveling to the train station by portkey in approximately 97 minutes.
In the serenity of the room we shared, Sirius inquired conspiratorially, "So...are you still planning on that happily ever after with Evans?" I gingerly fingered the ring secured in my pocket, clarifying confidently, "Definitely, Padfoot, now more than ever." He cocked an eyebrow at me, obviously befuddled. "You heard what Dad said about unity regardless of ancient grudges." His befuddlement merely persisted. "I'd classify seven years as about as ancient of a grudge as they come. Besides, marriage is the most efficient and effective way of unifying two houses." His shoulders slumped dejectedly, "Pity Evans wasn't there to be convinced by your Dad's speech too, ey, mate?"
Silence reigned, as we sloppily and hastily crammed our belongings into every available space our trunks afforded, bid the cluttered chamber a heartfelt farewell, and clambered downstairs, oversized possession in tow, where the parentals were huddled together, immersed in a fervent discussion pertaining to the fate of ourselves and our kind.
Author's Note: Whoa! This is going in a totally different direction than I originally anticipated, but, in my experience, the stories that are the most worth writing are the ones that the characters seize control of without your knowledge and consent. I had no idea James was going to have a ring already for Lily, but there isn't any reason to not expect the unexpected when dealing with Potter. By the way, if you're wondering why Mr. Potter seems all prophetical about the rise of Voldemort, when you work with individuals who are blatantly malicious towards all living creatures, such as the Snapes and the Malfoys, you begin to suspect they are capable and more than willing to get violent. And, since this is James's perspective, he may not be aware of absolutely EVERYTHING his father observes at the office, which led Mr. Potter to the conclusion that war was inevitable.
A shower of saliva oozed across my forehead. "Is it absolutely imperative for you to carry on about your bloody Lily in the midst of my imaginary orgies?" I ruffled his ears amiably, snorting "You know I can't resist your puppy face, Padfoot, but the drooling, mate, the drooling's bound to result in retaliatory hexing." He rewarded my announcement with a hiked leg and 'unjustly provoked' puddle of urine. "Evans will NEVER drool all over you, Potter, so someone else has to shoulder THAT heavenly responsibility."
Granted, this THRILLING opportunity to bond with caustic Sirius was not the most auspicious beginning for the first of September, Seventh Year. I'd previously concluded, and publicly proclaimed, that Pettigrew would be the one to piss himself today. Grudgingly, I placed a tiny fortune in galleons between Sirius's expectant jaws, barely avoiding an immanent mowing-down by Sirius's preferred ammunition, his lethally wagging tail. "Now that we're the kings of the castle, you've only got nine months left until our educational career is complete, Prongsie, and from my vantage point, Evans isn't itching to succumb to your virile self anymore than she's lusting after having a go with some devil's snare."
Blatantly dismissing his reference to the obvious, Evan's vow to eternally loathe me and consider me the most indescribably repulsive breed of pestilence she had ever, not to mention would ever, have the misfortune to encounter, I rumpled my hair, snarling murderously, "I'm no closer to dissolving our little wager than I was in First Year. EVANS WILL IRREVOCABLY AND INESCAPABLY RETURN MY AFFECTIONS! In fact, I've decided the time has come to raise the stakes a bit," Sirius growled his utter astonishment, collapsing onto his haunches in dismay. "Your Nimbus and invisibility cloak are hanging in the balance as your sheer insipidness proceeds to disclose itself, Potter. Evans would be as prone to reciprocating your puppy love as she would a Malfoy's."
I staggered to my feet, enraged that he would dare degrade my love...er...TOLERANCE for Lily Evans in such a fashion as comparing it to anything remotely associated with a Malfoy. I'd brought him into my home when his parents disowned him for his ties to Gryffindor House. I'd enmeshed him so deeply in the affairs of my family; my folks doted upon him as if the ungrateful prat had never been anyone but a Potter. And, after years of adoring his insufferable arse unconditionally, in a purely brotherly manner mind you, he had the gal to categorize me with the Malfoys!
"Potter, let's find you a new conquest, someone more doable than the unattainable Evans. McGonagall's way over due for a torrid love affair. Besides, I'd abhor the mere thought of you losing your beloved broom on my account," his whiskers twitched nonchalantly. I KERPLOPPED to my knees, nose-to-nose with the fluffy git, proclaiming courageously, "I'm not after some conquest where Lily Evans is concerned, Padfoot." Sirius panted in relief, a comically dopy grin contorting his canine countenance.
"Indeed, mate. I doubt even Dumbledore could concoct a spell boasting the required oomph to obliterate that emotional barrier she's erected about herself." I chuckled merrily, lounging contentedly beside him, declaring boldly, "Penetrating that barrier shall prove as trivial a task as positively trouncing the Slytherins at Quidditch. I'm questing for a much more sacred bounty these days."
Sirius's tail swept to and fro, as the poor fellow became consumed with anticipation. "You're not on about the sorcerer's stone again are ya? You know Dumbledore's guarding it with his very life...after last time." I guffawed raucously, reminiscing over that stunt during Fifth Year when a certain band of Marauders, who shall remain nameless, managed to swipe Dumbledore's latest invention from his office, for no nobler a purpose than persuading Moony the perilous mission could be accomplished.
"Everlasting youth pales in comparison to gaining Lily's consent to our marriage." Sirius gaped horrendously, eyes bulging from furry sockets, ears flat against his head in unrestrained terror, squeaking piteously with a decidedly Pettigrew-like methodology, "M..m...marriage?! As...as in one woman f...for t..the restofyourlife?! Bloody hell, Potter! I'd bawl my bloomin' eyes out! And I'm certain Evans will follow suite! D...does she know that you've lost all the marbles you never possessed?" Giddily, I presented him with THE ring, all fourteen carrots and shimmering, multi-facets of the countless embedded diamonds, emeralds, and rubies.
Abruptly, he commenced uncharacteristic hyperventilation, squirming about the room in a state of spontaneous convulsions, "Did you knock over a jewelry shop, Potter? Because those muggle "policemen" don't seem threatening, constantly indulging in their "donut" fetishes and "ticket" scribbling, but those "prisons..." I've heard many a tale of wizards being held captive in those fetid quarters, and the atrocities one's cellmates commit, bloody brutal! Actions are taken with brooms, which violate every heroic Quidditch principal." Gasping for breath, silver eyes pleading, I gripped his shoulder soothingly, "Embrace calmness, Black. I came by the ring honestly. You're in the company of a working man."
Sirius's flabbergasted expression was squelched by the decidedly welcome bellowing of my mum that breakfast was on the table. We scrambled downstairs, various puppy parts transforming into human limbs, as we catapulted ravenously toward the scrumptious fare. According to custom, mum greeted the pair of us with a dainty kiss on the cheek and exasperated rolling of her eyes.
Dad tossed wary glances in our respective directions, glasses slipping unheeded down the bridge of his nose, so engrossed was he in the current edition of the Daily Prophet. "Gentlemen," he acknowledged us dolefully, following his intense perusal of the paper, "I want you to promise me..." Sirius squirmed in his seat anxiously, indubitably prepared to swear on his entire family's tombstones (his fondest wish was to witness the immediate demise of all bearing the legendary name of Black) that he would do everything in his power to ensure James Potter was unsuccessful in his design of engagement to Lily Evans until a future date. "Promise me that you will make an effort, regardless of how negligible, to remain on civil terms with Severus Snape this year."
"But, Dad," I was unable to contain myself from thundering, despite countless grandeos gestures from Sirius, "You're employed by his father! You're well aware of the misery caused by forced interaction with that slimy, arrogant, pompous, revolting, despicable, insert expletive here every bloody day! How can you ask me to endure equivalent torture, and maintain my silence?!" Sirius elbowed me venomously in the ribs, grinning innocently at my father all the while.
"Oy, Mr. Potter? What do you reckon a self-proclaimed, holier-than-thou muggle-despiser is doing working for the Muggle Relations Department anyway?" Dad clapped Sirius on the back affectionately, staring wistfully through the fluttering, lace curtains into the wide world beyond.
"I'll tell you a secret, Sirius, my boy. I only wish the select few made privy to this information hadn't been 'requested' to suppress the truth. I know Dumbledore plans to explain this to you and your peers at the feast this evening, but I believe that the ray of hope he is encouraged to impress upon you exists, will only cloud the judgment of those incharge of deciding our future." I scooted my chair closer to my father, mesmerized and stupefied by his wisdom, his uncertainty about what tomorrow would bring.
"You see, son, there is dissention among certain members of the wizarding world, dissention, which will soon transform into absolute hatred of all who represent and employ decent magic, and, before the end of the impending war, generations of wizards will be annihilated in inconceivable numbers via torturous methods. There is no guarantee that you, or I, or James, or Mum, or your children, or even your children's' children will survive the massacres that await us."
Mum bustled into the dining area then, in a flurry of scarlet, satin skirt, smeared apron bearing the command, "That's Ms. Witch to you,", and dabbing at her eyes furiously, to no avail. Resting her chin tenderly atop his similarly stubborn tresses, she seethed desperately, "You. Weren't. Meant. To. Warn. Them. Dumbledore was supposed to deal with this!" Heedlessly, he swung her into his lap, brushing wayward strands of auburn locks behind her ear, "Dumbledore wasn't anymore thrilled about lying to them than I was, darling." "You're not...lying," she protested, but her words held no conviction, "you were simply..." Dad squeezed her hand, gallantly endeavoring to assure her somehow, "concealing the gravity of the situation," he supplied numbly.
"To answer your brilliant inquiry, Sirius," Dad continued gravely, "Snape's father works for the Muggle Relations Department to avoid suspicion of his true character, his ulterior motives, his activities behind closed doors. That is why you MUST attempt friendship with his son. Maintaining unity among the houses, regardless of ancient grudges, is the HOPE of victory in the days, weeks, months, and years to come." Returning to the kitchen bearing a mountainous stack of dishes, Mum shooed us upstairs to resume packing, rather start packing, which we refrained to correct her about, as she didn't need any more excuses to worry about her boys, for we'd be traveling to the train station by portkey in approximately 97 minutes.
In the serenity of the room we shared, Sirius inquired conspiratorially, "So...are you still planning on that happily ever after with Evans?" I gingerly fingered the ring secured in my pocket, clarifying confidently, "Definitely, Padfoot, now more than ever." He cocked an eyebrow at me, obviously befuddled. "You heard what Dad said about unity regardless of ancient grudges." His befuddlement merely persisted. "I'd classify seven years as about as ancient of a grudge as they come. Besides, marriage is the most efficient and effective way of unifying two houses." His shoulders slumped dejectedly, "Pity Evans wasn't there to be convinced by your Dad's speech too, ey, mate?"
Silence reigned, as we sloppily and hastily crammed our belongings into every available space our trunks afforded, bid the cluttered chamber a heartfelt farewell, and clambered downstairs, oversized possession in tow, where the parentals were huddled together, immersed in a fervent discussion pertaining to the fate of ourselves and our kind.
Author's Note: Whoa! This is going in a totally different direction than I originally anticipated, but, in my experience, the stories that are the most worth writing are the ones that the characters seize control of without your knowledge and consent. I had no idea James was going to have a ring already for Lily, but there isn't any reason to not expect the unexpected when dealing with Potter. By the way, if you're wondering why Mr. Potter seems all prophetical about the rise of Voldemort, when you work with individuals who are blatantly malicious towards all living creatures, such as the Snapes and the Malfoys, you begin to suspect they are capable and more than willing to get violent. And, since this is James's perspective, he may not be aware of absolutely EVERYTHING his father observes at the office, which led Mr. Potter to the conclusion that war was inevitable.