one; bravado.
sirius.
three weeks earlier.
I am vaguely amused when she comes in late again; late, late, late. I was not in the least surprised. She donned no shiny badge to tolerate as an excuse; therefore, it was detention for her. The poor girl.
People snicker as she takes her seat; she hushes them with a well-practiced glare.
This was ultimately the one girl that every boy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was likely to avoid. It's not that she was bad-looking (she most certainly was not; James deemed her mediocre but my opinions of her ran much higher) with her long dark hair and foreboding midnight-blue eyes. It's that her rash attitude turned away even my handsome charm.
Not that I'm egotistical or anything, really. It's everyone else that seems to think so highly of me.
"Miss Bordeaux, do you at least have some sort of excuse?"
I know the answer to this one, Professor McGonagoll. Shall I raise my hand?
"Not really, no," she retorts and the teacher looks shocked regardless of how many times she has received this answer.
I lean back in my chair and smirk at the boy next to me; James Potter was undoubtedly as captivated by her behaviour as I. She was a general rule-breaker; nothing too harsh, but she accepted detentions with the wave of a hand, as did we.
"Nothing that could possibly rid me of you for at least one night?" McGonagoll questions further, and I stifle a chuckle with my hand. What, precisely, is she attempting to accomplish?
"Oh, Professor McGonagoll, you know how much I enjoy our little nightly chats." Ainslee Bordeaux's tone is careless; her hands clasp at the nape of her neck, hidden under the curtain of straight tresses, and she's teetering dangerously on the back legs of her chair.
McGonagoll sighs. "Five points from Gryffindor."
Another five down the drain. Once again, unsurprising, and no one has the bizarre grimace on their face anymore. That had been in first year, when the tips of Ainslee's hair were hot pink. I was particularly fond of the golden tips she bore this year (the colour changed correspondingly with the years passed and we were on our sixth one).
A finger roughly stabs me in the back and I knit my brow but turn to face Remus Lupin, sitting alongside Peter Pettigrew. "Moony, what?"
He tips his head toward the table, sandy hair falling treacherously into his blue eyes. Irritably, he shakes it away from his face and raps on a piece of parchment on the desk.
My own grey eyes stray to it; the map. Our map, our secret map, one of two things we worked increasingly hard at for our six years together in Hogwarts. I almost slap him upside the head for having it lying so blatantly out in the open.
Suddenly, my attention snaps to the only coloured dot on said parchment. The one that reads 'Ainslee Bordeaux' and I knew unerringly what the horrific red ink meant.
Allow me to explain: this map is the Marauder's Map and we made it. 'We' refers to the Marauders, conscripted of myself, James, Remus and Peter. In all honesty, they are the only people I can trust my life to.
James, though hopeless and occasionally arrogant, is good-natured and has a sense of humor to rival my own. Even his stupid habit of rumpling his already-messy dark hair was something I have picked up myself, ashamedly admitted. I resent him ever so slightly for that. But he is my best friend like no other person could be. Beneath the brilliant mind we share, and our similar loves for pranking and Quidditch among other things, is the strongest camaraderie I will ever know.
Remus is a natural friend. I mean, he is unconditional. I mean…well, I mean he is supportive and significantly faithful. He began as shy and timid but we soon rid him of that and now he is equally as much of a troublemaker as James and I. He is one of my closest friends and is there for me, through and through.
Peter has never been broken of his habitually shy nature. Sometimes he stuttered, sometimes he appeared blank, and sometimes he was plain stupid. But Peter, unlike anyone else we have ever met, is determined to better himself. He is dead-set on enhancing every single one of his good qualities and though we don't approve of the things he does to reach his goals, we still support his decisions. He is, after all, one of us.
We have nicknames for each other, the four of us. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs – all based on something that is rarely discussed more than once a month between us. I, Sirius Black, am the one they call Padfoot. Moony, as you may have already noticed, is Remus. Peter is Wormtail and that leaves Prongs to James.
Regrettably, I would tell you more, but I am once again distracted by Moony's incessant drumming. He wants me to say something.
The only thing I can get out is the obvious fact: "She's bleeding," I say dumbly.
Remus let his head hit the table abruptly; he was exasperated. "Thank you, Professor."
The map, superbly created and charmed between the four of our virtuoso minds, shows every inch of Hogwarts castle and there are no exceptions to the rule, such as secret passageways. We have made sure to leave nothing out. It also shows every person in the building and on the grounds and their exact location. The ink changes colour sometimes; like now, with Ainslee's dark red-inked blotch. It stands for blood and I have only witnessed that once before. The map is intelligent in its own right and understands when people are in danger.
I look over at Ainslee; nothing seems out of place. She is acting just as normally as she could. Normal in her definitive way, I suppose, for she happens to be doodling on her textbook and gazing out the window.
Remus is watching me again, waiting for a better response so I give him one. "It can't be anything that serious; she doesn't seem bothered by anything." A sudden thought strikes me and I wrinkle my nose. "It may be girl-time."
Remus' face drains of colour and he groans a bit loudly.
"Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin?" McGonagoll is waiting patiently for me to face forward in my seat, so I do. "What, in Merlin's name, are you boys up to this time?"
"Nothing," we answer in perfect unison; I can practically feel laughter radiating off of James' being.
She frowns at us but returns to her lesson.
"Mischief managed," Remus whispered, tapping the parchment with his wand. The ink hemorrhages from it and I can't resist grinning with pride at our creation.
If Transfiguration was any longer, I think I would have to asphyxiate myself, thanks very much. We're all quite fortunate it ended when it did. I've always loved Transfiguration and I'm rather good with it (good may be an understatement of sorts) but McGonagoll has a way of making everything seem so very…novice.
"Padfoot, come no, what's on your mind?" James lightly punches my arm and I return the gesture.
"Who says anything is on my mind?"
"What did you see on the map?"
I hesitate and, however concise the argument is, debate telling him. "Bordeaux is in a right bloody state and I mean it. Time of the month, I s'pose?"
James' hazel eyes grow wide in a purely priceless expression and I laugh. "You wanted to know," I shrug, entering the Great Hall for lunch. Remus and Peter are trailing a bit behind us, obviously discussing the same subject matter but in a more serious manner. Sometimes I worry that they give James and I grief because we're not as serious as they are. Or it may be because they're trying to deflate our egos.
Wait, we can't possibly be that bad.
However, that is only my reasoning, and I'm almost positive that my reasoning accounts for nothing.
For some unbeknownst cause, we're all awfully quiet during lunch. More than likely, it's lack of sleep. We never sleep much; perhaps it's how all sixteen-year-old boys live. Tainted and sleepless.
Something cold closes around my heart when Ainslee comes into the Great Hall; it's a suspiciously strange feeling, not quite a good one, but not horrible either. It's similar to something like familiarity.
She takes a seat a little ways down from us, putting space between herself and other human life. I think she does it out of instinct. She's never been directly rude to me except for the time I desperately tried to win a bet that a boy 'could too get her interested'. James won that bet, if you were wondering.
Besides that day, she seemed indeed bearable and friendly, if nothing else. She was devoid of friends because she took up a defensive stance against teachers. She appeared to be entirely too uncomfortable with adults.
A book hit me relatively hard in the face and I flinch, turning to take a swing at James' cackling face. Stupid prat. "What d'you want?" I grumble after missing him by mere inches.
"Dunno, just enjoy distracting you sometimes." The looking James' eyes gives him away and I immediately become suspicious; the sly git is always up to something or other. Part of the reason we get on so well.
"Do share."
"Share what?"
"Whatever you're thinking."
"I don't think."
"You don't think in a smart way, you mean."
"Shut up."
"Make me."
Another flurry of fists and moments later, we are calm again. Things have been and always will be this way between James and I. To be frank, I wouldn't have it any other way. We've never fought in a way that could not be solved.
"You two have some problems that need to be worked out," a voice sniffs from above us. I know who it is but I tip my head backwards anyway, eyeing the tall freckly redhead.
Lily Evans lifts her nose in the air, scrutinizing us. I glance at James, who has gone quite still, then smirk at her. "Good afternoon, Miss Evans. How are you feeling on this lovely summer day?"
"I was feeling quite wonderful, Black, thanks for asking. But I rather fancy a hot shower right now – to cleanse myself of your presence," she adds explanatively.
Well. Not quite the response I was expecting, but I can work with that. "Make sure you wash out your ears rather well; my presence sometimes lingers there."
She scowls.
I grin.
James hits himself in the face.
"What?" I ask him innocently as she stalks away. "Was it something I said?"
He simply glares at me. I just return this with feigned confusion; I know why he's acting like this.
See, James has had an awful crush on Lily since first year. Unfortunately, she has never taken the time to notice him – well, that's a bit of a lie. She has, but she's always noticing him at the worst moments: when he's being a haughty sod.
"Padfoot, Peter and I have come to a conclusion," Remus says abruptly, snatching my attention to his side of the table.
I quirk an eyebrow. "Well, let's have it."
"Well," he leans forward, lowering his tone drastically, "The way I remember making the map, it shows when someone is in danger. So I don't think…Ainslee is going through…well…" He flusters a bit. "Through her time of the month."
I snicker; listening to Remus Lupin say 'time of the month' was odd enough, added to the bought of uncomfortable ferocity that had taken his face the moment the words slipped out.
His glowering is enough to silence me again; he doesn't become angry often, so I know I must pay attention.
"Don't you remember the last time the map showed someone's ink in that colour?"
I know I have gone pallid; memories flash through my head on a roll…
Red robes, red hands…
Screaming…
Gripping crimson arms…
I gasp sharply and put my face in my hands. "Yes, I bloody remember."
The other Marauders look about as sick as I do, I notice. I deeply wish that Remus had not brought it up whatsoever; it was a time, years ago, and still faintly terrifying for all of us to recall.
"Right." He wears a blank look but I'm fully aware that underneath that look, there is pure pain.
I clasp my hands nervously, frantic for a change of subject. "Well—well, maybe you're right. D'you want me to look into it?"
Remus is observing me now with the utmost suspicion, seemingly glad for the distraction from his own tremulous thoughts. "How're you going to manage that?"
James turns to me as well, but with curiosity abound. "I'd like to know that very same thing."
Peter is silent though, glancing nervously at me. His question is implicit yet identical to the other two.
I smile, a small mischievous smile. "Well…everyone loves dogs…"
author's note; hello, my lovelies, don't fret. i have not given up work on bleed the stars, i am just rather excited to get chaos and the pieces up (eventually) so i'm working on those first. but please read and review on this :-)