Chapter 4
Everything in my head feels tangled, like the wool of a tapestry rotting and untangling itself on the wall of my family home. Sometimes I wish I could tear at it, lay it all out flat in one long, continuous line. But that way lies madness, and the triumph of the dementors over my psyche. I must concentrate.
The Gryffindor common room was awash with light and noise as I sat companionably, sipping pumpkin juice, with James. I was becoming increasingly aware of just how many pretty girls there were in our house. Just then a blonde girl dropped a roll of parchment at our feet, and I found myself standing and whisking it off the floor for her. I gave her a smile as I passed it back to her and was pleasantly surprised to see the way she blushed and dimpled in response. She carried on across the common room, smiling back at me once more as she ducked into the dormitory stairwell.
"I do believe that you're turning into a gentleman, Sirius." James laughed, clapping me on the shoulder hard enough to spill my drink. "You'd better watch that, or you'll be bringing the family name into disrepute!" I wiped my hands rather uselessly down my robes, trying to get rid of the pumpkin juice, but really not that bothered about it. I'd never been as fastidious about these things as my mother would have liked. Windswept and interesting was more my style.
"Ah, you're just jealous of my way with the ladies." Unfortunately, at that moment Lily Evans walked past. She snorted with laughter, giving me a pitying look, and carried on toward the fireplace. I felt my cheeks begin to burn. I hated being pitied.
"Jealous? Of you?" James chortled. "I just saw you in action! You've got nothing on me!" He sipped his own drink contentedly. A plan formed in my head.
"Sounds like a challenge, Potter!" I leant forward, speaking quickly and quietly.
"What does that mean?" James leant toward me in response. My eyes darted around the room, checking that no one was listening.
"Who is the prettiest girl in our year?" I asked, looking meaningfully at Lily.
"Your cousin, Andromeda." He answered promptly, and then looked puzzled at my grimace.
"Be serious, James. That's my favourite relation you're talking about!"
"So? She's a very nice looking relation!" James chuckled, taking a swig of his drink.
"You stay away from my cousin." I teased in return.
"Alright, if she means that much to you. Never knew you were kissing cousins." James ducked the book I threw at his head, smothering a laugh as it thumped a first year. "Well then, get to the point. What's this challenge all about?"
"Who's the best looking girl in our year, who also happens to be in our house?" I asked, trying to remain patient.
"Are we still playing this game?" He grinned at my sigh and looked around the room, taking a few moments before they rested where I expected them to. "Lily Evans." She was sitting on a leather footstool, laughing at a joke a second year had just told. She was pulling absent-mindedly at the top of one rumpled sock, her green eyes sparkling. It was one of those slow motion moments that happen far too infrequently in life, when you feel as though time is like treacle. It felt… fateful; although I little knew how important that moment was for James and me.
"Lily Evans." I realised that my voice sounded a little strangled, and quickly cleared my throat. "She's never thought much of either of us, I reckon."
"You're blind, Sirius." James wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "She's been hot for me since first year!"
"Right then, this should be no problem for you." I leant in closer, dropping my voice to a whisper. "Lily Evans is the challenge. Whoever kisses her first is the winner." James' eyes widened, but his cocky grin didn't fade.
"Define kiss," he said. I snorted.
"Well, if you don't know what kissing is, I'm not going to help you find out!" At that moment I was reminded uncomfortably of Remus, how his mouth had felt against mine only the day before. I brushed the memory aside and continued, "Mouth to mouth contact only, none of your kissing-your-grandma's-cheek malarkey! And she has to want to kiss you too."
"Piece of the proverbial, my friend." James sat back, shooting Lily a speculative look. "What's the stake?"
"Once round the Great Hall, starkers, for the loser?" I put my hand out, fairly confident of my powers.
"Done!" James shook my hand, just as Peter appeared through the portrait hole.
"What's up, chaps? Got a bet on?" Peter dropped plumply to the floor at our feet, drawing his knees up to his chest. For some reason he preferred to sit on the floor whenever he could.
"Nothing much, Peter." James smiled down at him. "Just Sirius planning to show his crown jewels off to all his pals."
"Don't listen to him, Peter. He's had too much pumpkin juice." I shot James a fond look across the table. Just then Lily got up and headed past us towards the girls' dormitories. "We'll tell you later." I whispered. Peter smiled happily, and chomped down some toffee. James and I watched Lily climb the lower stairs, her small hips swaying under her robes. This was going to be fun.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as goose pimples rise all over my skin. The warm common room fades from my inner vision, to be replaced with a splitting pain in my head. I want to vomit, but my stomach is empty. My eyes close once more, and I am gone.
The walk through the dark and echoing halls of the school, usually such a pleasure for me, felt tiring and cold, especially in contrast to the warm common room and friendly company I had just left. I stood for five long minutes outside Malfoy's study, psyching myself up for whatever menial work he might expect me to do. Remus was still avoiding me, sitting as far away from me as possible in class, so I had no idea what Malfoy had made him do. Finally I steeled myself and knocked firmly on the oak door.
"Come." The voice was muffled by the door. I turned the handle and entered, unsurprised to find my cousin Bellatrix sitting comfortably in a leather armchair, her legs drawn up underneath her. She was the most beautiful and the most dangerous of all my cousins, and I had a sneaking affection for her. She had held my arm painfully behind my back for half an hour every day of my fifth summer, as part of a bizarre ceremony she called my 'Black Family Initiation'. I had compared notes with Andromeda, and found that she had done the same thing to her that spring; I think she just liked to feel us wriggle. She was also Malfoy's shadow, as he was so often hers. I used to think they were two halves of the same soul, before I realised that neither of them had one.
"Lucius." Bellatrix had fixed me with a cold, grey stare.
"Mmm-hmm." Malfoy was sitting at his desk, reading an ancient looking book. He didn't look up.
"Why is my cousin here?" Lucius looked up then, his brows knitted together in seeming contemplation.
"Oh yes, Black." He smiled at Bellatrix. He never seemed warm, except when he looked at her. "I forgot to tell you, darling. He's my other drudge." Bellatrix looked shocked.
"You're going to use my cousin as a drudge! I don't believe it!" She seemed genuinely outraged, at least as much as she ever got. A slight flush crept across her cheeks.
"I've no choice in the matter," Lucius drawled, turning back to his book. Her annoyance was clearly of little consequence to him. "I caught him smoking. Would you rather I turned him in to Dumbledore?" Bellatrix stayed silent, her mouth in a thin line. "At least he's drudging for me. Imagine if he had to polish that half-blood Bagman's boots for him." Bellatrix looked thoughtful for a moment, and then unfolded herself from the armchair.
"You're right, of course. She swept past me, through the open door. "I'd still rather not watch it." She closed the door behind her, and I heard my last hope rustle away down the corridor. I turned back to Malfoy, trying not to let my frustration show on my face, knowing it would go worse for me if he knew he could get to me. He ignored me.
I stood for half an hour, waiting for him to tell me what to do. Occasionally he would pause and tap a word with one long forefinger, or turn the page delicately, as the long minutes stretched. I was starting to get really angry, when eventually he spoke.
"Do you have clean hands, Black?" I started, surprised and confused by his question.
"What?" My voice was louder than I had expected. He sighed.
"Are your hands clean?" he asked. My forehead wrinkled in confusion.
"Yes."
"Let me see them." I shuffled forward, totally bemused by this conversation. I was expecting to sweep out his fire or dust shelves, not have a hygiene inspection. I held out my hands, palm side down, and he glanced at them. "Turn over." He looked at the other side. "You call that clean?" He fixed me with almost the same cold grey stare as my cousin had used on me earlier on. "See that you don't come to me in this state again. You can wash them in the basin over there."
I crossed the room, still none the wiser. Picking up the big jug from its place, I poured some water into the basin, wincing at the coldness as a little splashed my hand.
"Wash your face too, while you're at it." Begrudgingly I complied, trying not to gasp as the chilly water hit my skin, rinsing every hint of pumpkin juice from me. "Come here," he said as I dried myself on the towel beside the stand. I went back to him, glad to be next to the cosy fire that burnt in the grate. He gave me another assessing look, before pointing to a pearl handled brush that lay on the desk. "Brush my hair."
"What?" I almost laughed out loud, but restrained myself to a stifled snort.
"You heard me." His tone dropped a little, became more dangerous. "I want you to brush my hair."
"Why?" I asked impetuously. His eyes were like steel, and they drained all of the amusement out of me instantly.
"No more questions, Black." He looked as though he would have liked to rip my throat out. "Do as you're told, or Dumbledore and the rest of the school find out about your… bad habit. And that of Mr Lupin." I felt the anger bubble up inside me again, but held myself back. I promised myself that I would find some way to get my own back on the evil git.
Picking up the brush, I walked behind Malfoy. The temptation just to strangle him, as he settled back comfortably into his chair, was almost unbearable. Instead I lifted the pale length of his hair, untying the black ribbon that held it in a long braid down his back. His hair slid through my fingers as I untangled it, surprisingly heavy and silken. I started to brush it, snagging the bristles almost straight away. Malfoy hissed.
"Watch it!" I proceeded more carefully, kneeling and pulling the brush through the ends first, before standing to do the higher parts. From this angle it was difficult to tell that it was a man's hair I was brushing, especially since his hands holding his book were so fine and white.
I don't know how long I stood there, brushing that long, platinum hair, because I lost all sense of time. My annoyance drifted away from me, leaving me in a sort of trance. The fire glowed pleasantly, casting flickering shadows around the room. An intimate atmosphere descended, the only sound the gentle turning of the page. I felt almost drugged. Finally Malfoy stirred.
"That will do, Black. You can go."
I was glad when he didn't look at me again, letting me stumble out of the room without so much as a glance. My mouth was dry and my cheeks burning. I had never felt more ashamed in my life. Pulling my robes closed around me to hide the inconceivable evidence of my arousal, I walked unsteadily back toward our common room.