A/N: Amazingly, I've managed to struggle through my writer's block with this. I think, this is my only fic that I haven't lost heart on, it still interests me. My problem seems to be starting chapters, if I can do that I'll keep it up for hours, but beginnings are my downfall. I like endings best. I could tell you exactly how I plan to finish every single one of my current fics.
But enough of that.
A huge thanks to Blinded One, my only reviewer for the last chapter. I'm sorry this has been so long! Never fear though, if you haven't guessed something about Scarlett by the end of this chapter, you soon will do!
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James paused in the middle of the sentence and looked at what he'd written.
'I am not sure what to think,
And I am not sure what to do,
But I know I cannot go on like this,
Pretending I don't love you,
Maybe it is my head,
Maybe it is my heart,
All I think about is you,
When ever we are apart.'
"What a piece of shit," he announced aloud, letting a drop of red ink splash from his quill onto the parchment below.
"What?" started Remus, who had been reading a book on his bed, blissfully unaware of James' predicament.
"Oh… nothing," James told him, smiling brightly as he crumpled up his latest attempt. Remus did not appear too happy with his explanation.
"What are you doing James?" he sighed, sitting up straighter. "All you've been doing this afternoon is writing, sighing, complaining, and finally crumpling up whatever it was you were writing in the first place."
"It's nothing."
"No, it's not. It's something, that much is clear. Now what is it?"
"You'll laugh."
"I promise, I won't. However stupid it might be."
"You will. I know you will. It's so pathetically pathetic, even you would laugh."
"I won't, cross my heart and hope to die."
"Well…" he began biting his lip. What would be so bad about telling Moony? Padfoot would collapse in hysterics and bring it up in every conversation they ever had, but Moony would probably help. Probably. "Okay… but you cannot – under pain of slow disembowelment – tell Padfoot."
"I swear," Remus told him solemnly, drawing a cross on his chest. "What are you doing?"
"Writing poetry."
If Remus was amused, he certainly didn't show it; the poker straight face was kept firmly in place. Actually, he had the deadpan look down to perfection. He often liked to make cracks at people, but his face would be so serious they wouldn't realise he had insulted them until he was too far away to hex.
"Why?"
"Because I plan on being the next Shakespeare," James replied, not breaking his gaze and wondering if he could beat Remus at his own game.
"Why?" he repeated, unmoved. James sighed and threw down his quill in defeat.
"It's for Lily," he explained after a couple of seconds. "I wrote some a while ago for her, and Sirius thought it would be hilariously funny to send it. And I asked her what she thought about it, but she doesn't know I sent it, of course, she just mentioned it, and she said that she thought it was sweet. So now I'm writing more. Because she likes it and it is a sure fire way to make her fall in love with me."
"Oh. Is it any good?" James cast him a cynical look. "Guess not."
"Will you help me?"
"Do I have any choice?"
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On his way down to the lake, Sirius wished his mistakes had taught him more. Despite his promises to himself about not getting worked up, he'd raised his expectations so high that if Aurelia didn't show, he'd be mightily disappointed, and he hadn't made any other plans.
He needn't have worried. As soon as the lake came into view, he saw Aurelia, sat beneath the tree where they'd first met. She'd opted to wear cut-off jeans as shorts, and a dazzlingly white shirt. Her hair was scraped back into a ponytail, and with her shades, canvas shoes, Hessian shoulder bag and long, tanned legs, she looked like she'd just stepped off a yacht in the south of France.
"You're early!" he grinned. "Isn't it traditional for the girl to keep the boy waiting, not the other way round?"
"I wouldn't know," Aurelia replied breezily. "I don't make a habit of this."
"What? Being early?"
"No, going out with boys. My parents don't really approve, they'd rather I stayed cooped up inside the house where they can watch me."
"How'd you persuade them to let you come to Hogwarts?"
"By reminding them it was one of the best wizarding schools in the whole of Europe, and that I'd benefit being away from them for a while. They get frantic this time of year, because they haven't seen me in months."
"You're lucky, at least you have parents that care. That's more than I can say."
Aurelia was silent, so Sirius began to walk slowly up to the castle gates. Seventh years were allowed into Hogsmeade any weekend they liked, but they had to walk or fly there. It was too much hassle to harness up carriages every time one of them fancied another dungbomb or a new quill.
It was nice when Hogsmeade was silent, not packed with students, although later this afternoon they'd all be here, stocking up for the holidays.
Sirius had never actually walked out the gates before. He usually used one of the secret passages because they were much quicker, but he wasn't sure if he could trust Aurelia with that kind of information. Well, actually he was, but James and Remus had forbidden him from telling her, on the grounds that she might snitch to a teacher. He supposed it was all for the best.
As they walked, the talked lightly about various subjects; friends, school, Quidditch, occasionally catching each other's eye nervously. Aurelia said she supported the Prides, whereas Sirius was a big Cannons fan. She had laughed when he told her this and said he would get along well with her father. Sirius had smiled and seriously wondered if he would.
In Hogsmeade, Sirius showed her round various shops. He bought her a biting teacup in Zonko's, and in the Post Office she marvelled at all the different owls. They stopped in the Three Broomsticks for butterbeer, which Rosie gave him on the house.
As they were walking slowly back in the late afternoon, Aurelia paused outside Hogsmeade cemetery.
"It's beautiful," she whispered softly.
"What?"
"The cemetery."
"You have a thing for cemeteries?" he laughed. He thought she was having him on, but she was deadly serious.
"They're peaceful places," she answered. "Even in the centre of a large town, they're quiet."
"I find graveyards scary."
"You shouldn't. In a graveyard, everyone is at rest. You should fear the living, not the dead."
Sirius felt the conversation was turning morbid, and tried to lighten it.
"I always figured a graveyard was the last place anyone would go." Rubbish joke; but Aurelia smiled anyway.
"Come on!" she said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him forward. They passed through the cemetery gates as distant thunder rumbled.
"We're going to get wet," said Sirius.
"Does that bother you?"
"Not particularly."
He was being economical with the truth - Sirius detested rain - but he was drawing closer and closer to Aurelia and he didn't want to lose her. If he had to struggle waist-deep through a flood – that was OK with him.
They followed the central path past leaning headstones, marble angels with moss in their eyes, urns of wilting, dying flowers. Aurelia stopped at an elaborate monument. On top of a granite dais stood the statue of a young man in biker leathers and boots, goggles pushed up on his helmet, stone teeth bared in a fixed smile.
Sirius read the inscription. The young man had been killed in the nineteen-fifties, attempting to break a speed record on a flying motorbike. Sirius had always fancied one of those, but he found this quite off-putting.
"He was only twenty-one," he murmured. "He must've thought he had his whole life ahead of him."
"He died trying to achieve something though," Aurelia put in. "Not a bad death."
Sirius made no comment; as far as he was concerned, all deaths were bad deaths. Except maybe his mother's. A bolt of lightning flashed so brightly, it left lilac after-images in his eyes every time he blinked. A peal of thunder rolled by, and rain fell in huge drops that left streaks on the statue of the biker.
He took Aurelia's hand and rushed for cover under a nearby yew tree. The stood together as rain dripped down from the branches.
"I don't know if it's safe here," Sirius said. "If the lightning strikes this tree- " Another kind of lightning struck; Aurelia pressed her lips to his.
Sirius was lost in the kiss. He felt Aurelia's arms tighten around him, crushing his chest until he could hardly breathe; he managed to pull his head free.
"Could we be less intense?" he gasped. "My ribs feel like they're going to pop." Aurelia relaxed her embrace.
"I'm sorry!" she said. "I've been wanting to kiss you ever since the first time we met."
"That's very flattering, but bear in mind that I'm breakable. Try gentle next time." Aurelia lowered her arms to her sides.
"I'm hungry Sirius," she told him. "I want to know what it's like for people to love the real you. I'm sick of hiding and pretending to be what I'm not. They don't understand how much I need to be myself." She stared at the rain.
Sirius decided not to ask who 'they' were, and watched her silently. She was panting; her breath showed in the cool air.
"Take off your sunglasses," he said suddenly.
"What?"
"I want to see your eyes." She appeared to hesitate for a moment before replying.
"They're deformed."
"I don't care," he told her, not letting on how startled he was at this piece of information.
"You'll think I'm ugly."
"No I won't. Please?"
Lightning flickered once more, followed by another clang of thunder.
"Please?" Sirius asked again. Aurelia tentatively raised her hands and slid off the shades.
"There," She said firmly, reassuring herself rather than him.
Her eyes were golden, pupils slightly elliptical with no definite boundary between them and the irises – lion's eyes; hunter's eyes.
"Shit!" he whispered. Aurelia replaced her sunglasses, her fingers fumbling around her hair.
"I shouldn't have done that," she said unsteadily. "I shouldn't have shown you. It was a mistake. All of this is a mistake – I shouldn't be here!" She darted into the rain, too quickly for Sirius to stop her.
"Aurelia?" he shouted. "Aurelia!" She disappeared into the downpour. Sirius leaned his back against the damp trunk of the yew and tried to work out where he'd gone wrong.
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"Fancy dress?"
"Yes, you've said that. In fact everyone in the room has said that. Even Gudgeon. Only sensible idea he's come up with all year."
The Hufflepuff sat back in defeat, and Lily cast James a warning glance.
"Look," he explained, leaning forward slightly. "The idea isn't a bad one. Stereotypical, yes; but not bad. The thing you've all failed to specify is what type of fancy dress you want to base it on."
Seeing their confused gazes, Lily decided to step in.
"What he means," she told them, "Is we need to have a theme, like Fairytales or animals or… historical figures; something like that. We can't have one person coming as a druid, and another coming as a lobster."
"I think that would be quite funny," piped up a Slytherin sixth year. Lily shot him a condescending look.
"Any ideas?" she asked, surveying the room. A shy Ravenclaw at the back put up her hand. Lily recognised her as Scarlett's younger sister. "Yes, Gaia?"
"Um… what about famous Witches and Wizards?" she suggested meekly. "Everyone dresses up as his or her favourite person from a chocolate frog card."
"Now that's what I'm talking about!" James said happily, looking proud, as if he'd thought up the idea himself. He beamed at Gaia, who blushed profoundly.
"That's a very good idea," Lily smiled. "Does anyone have anything else they'd like to share with us, or is that okay with everyone here?" They made general noises of agreement, so Lily took this to mean they were all decided. "Right then, we'll meet back here in a week. In the meantime, try to think of more ideas for everything we've discussed today."
She began to scribble down everything they'd talked about as the Prefects left; something she'd taken to doing since the beginning of the year.
"Bye Lily!" called Gaia, the last out of the room.
"Bye Gaia!" she replied, smiling. It was funny, now that she and James were… friends, almost, and didn't spend the whole meetings arguing about something pointless, she was beginning to enjoy them.
"Hey Lils, are you going to Spacey's tonight?" James asked, moving several chairs in the prefect's common room to different places, and then observing them through squinted eyes.
"I think so," she replied, "Scarlett's desperate to go before it closes down. Can't say I'm that excited though, it can't be that great."
"It'll be fun, we haven't had a night out in ages," he replied, thinking wistfully of the last 'Gryffindor night on the town'. Lily peered at him from her seat. "What?"
"Are you thinking about the time you and Sirius took me to the Hog's Head and force-fed me excessive amounts of Firewhiskey?" she asked suspiciously. James grinned and put his hands behind his head.
"Ahh, Evans, you know me too well!" he sighed. "That was honestly the best night of my life. Well, except for the time Sirius gave you those huge spots, and you were trying to hex him so he climbed a tree and you wouldn't let him down for 8 hours, which was also pretty funny. I'm not sure which one I prefer more."
"Please tell me you only regard it so highly because you succeeded in the impossible by getting me drunk," Lily muttered pleadingly. James grinned more widely.
"I was thinking more along the lines of the lap dance you gave me…" Lily cringed and blushed. "And perhaps the part where you pinched Aberforth's bottom…" he continued, as she went an interesting shade of magenta. "Or maybe even when you snogged your best friend…"
Lily stared at him, the colour in her cheeks subsiding. "I did not kiss Scarlett!" she said in an appalled tone.
"You didn't?" he asked, looking confused. "Oh, no… I was thinking of Sirius."
"Sirius snogged… his best friend?" she asked looking at James with a mixture of curiosity and astonishment.
"No, he snogged Scarlett."
"Really? She never mentioned it."
"I think they were both too drunk to remember. Me and Remus were the only ones slightly sober."
"Oh." She paused, not sure if she should bring up the subject his friend's name had reminded her of, then went ahead with it anyway. "Have you told him yet?" What a mood-killer. He regarded her silently, and even before he spoke she knew what his words would be.
"No. And I'm not sure if I want to." She nodded.
"Maybe we should just… forget about it," she suggested staring out of the window.
"No, we- we can't. It's not right," he answered, shaking his head slowly. "He deserves to know."
"It would hurt him," she whispered. "If you were in his shoes, how would you feel?"
"I'd probably want to kill myself," James admitted. "I don't think I'd want to live if I almost killed someone I cared about."
Cared about…The words echoed in Lily's head for several moments, before she shook herself and rolled up the piece of parchment she had been writing on, standing up to leave.
"Where are you going now?" James questioned, looking at her sharply, in an almost possessive tone.
"Back to my room to change," she replied airily, brushing her skirt down. "Want to join me?"
James' eyebrows rose and he smiled at her roguishly.
"Why Lily, I never knew you felt that way!"
Lily glared at him playfully. "Not like that you dolt, you know what I meant." He smiled enigmatically, and stood up, linking his arm through hers before marching out with her.
She smiled good-naturedly and tried to ignore the way her heart was bouncing around inexplicably.
She looked at him contemplatively as they strolled along the corridors, arm in arm. He caught her staring, and took a break from the constant stream of babble to do with detentions to ask, "Like what you see?" in a suggestive manner.
"Perhaps," she replied, trying to keep all colour from her cheeks. James stopped in his tracks and goggled at her as she kept going, wondering how the hell he had managed to get Lily flirting with him. He jogged to catch up with her again.
"Who are you and what the hell have you done with Lily Evans?" he asked, eyebrows knitting together in a frown.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied sweetly. "Snidget." The portrait swung open and James stood there until it had closed after her, trying for the life of him to work out what the hell had just happened.
"Something is very, very wrong with Lily," he announced as he stormed wildly into his dormitory. Remus and Peter were the only ones there.
"Sorry, did you say something?" asked Peter, looking up mildly from his work. James sniffed disdainfully and turned to Moony, who had shut his book and put on his 'I'm a good listener, please talk to me' face.
"She is acting really weirdly."
"How so?" Remus asked, pulling a notepad towards him, and taking out a pencil from behind his ear.
"Well, just now, I caught her staring at me. Then I asked her, jokingly, of course, if she liked what she saw. And- "
"Hang on!" Remus muttered, "Let me get all of this!"
"What?" James asked, completely befuddled. Remus reached under his bed, and pulled out a pair of old reading glasses. There was something green and gooey on them, which he pulled off with grimace before putting them on.
"Professor R.J. Lupin, relationship expert, at your service!" he announced with a flourish.
"Right," James said slowly. "Am I expected to pay upfront or will you send me an invoice?"
"Cash will do nicely, thank you," Moony replied with a smile. "You have 13 minutes left. Continue." He shook his hand impatiently, pencil poised over the page.
"Okay, where was I?" James started. "Ah yes, I remember."
"So do I, I have it written down," Remus interrupted. "Hurry up, won't you?"
"Right, I thought she'd just, I dunno, blush or something, but she didn't."
"What did she do?"
"She said 'perhaps'. Does that mean anything?"
"I don't know…" Remus mumbled, frowning at the page. "How is she when you're with her?"
"When am I with her? You mean, like, after meetings and stuff?"
"Yeah. And at revision sessions." James did not reply. "Prongs? Please tell me you have been revising!" He bit his lip and threw Moony an apologetic look. Remus sighed. "I might've known."
"Sorry, I just… forgot."
"Tonight, you are going to arrange a revision session with her, is that clear?"
"Yes Professor."
"Good," said Remus, sitting back against the headboard of his bed. "Was there anything else?"
"Um… yeah there was actually," he said, scratching his head thoughtfully. "You know how she used to get really pissed every time I called her Lils? Now, if I call her that, she doesn't bat an eyelid!"
Remus made several grunting noises as he wrote this all down, then continued to scribble other things as well, occasionally making noises of understanding, and then delight.
"What is it?" James asked frantically, almost pulling great clumps of his messy hair out, "Do you have any ideas?"
"I do," his friend replied.
"And?" James prompted, after he did not elaborate further.
"I'm not going to tell you," Moony replied. James' face fell. "Tell me, Prongs, is Lily going to Spacey's tonight?"
"Ye-es," James replied, not entirely sure what he was getting at.
"Are you?"
"Ye-es."
"Good. I shall accompany you, then I can observe your interactions."
"Well, okay, but as long as you leave the bloody notepad behind, and take off those ridiculous glasses."
"Hey!" Remus protested. "I have it on good authority that they make me look rather fetching!"
"Peter, stop telling lies," James muttered, rolling his eyes as he disappeared into the bathroom.
"You owe me six sickles and two knuts!" Remus called after him.
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"Li-leee!"
"Yes?"
"Have you seen my top?"
"Which one, Gwen?" Lily sighed. "You'll have to be a tiny bit more specific. You have hundreds, if not thousands, of tops and you expect me to know the exact one you're talking about from that description?"
"That was a bit exaggerated Lils," Gwen sulked. "I do not have hundreds of tops. I have 52. And I left most of them at home."
"Yes, that's right…" Lily replied, putting on a tone of mock comprehension. "You only brought 51."
"Shut up!" Gwen shrieked, throwing whatever was in her hand at her roommate. Lily pulled it off her head and looked at it.
"Why don't you just wear this?" she asked, holding it up and seeing it was a white halter-neck with beading on the front.
"Lily, don't test me right now, I'm in a very stressful position." She shook her head and continued to mutter profanities to herself as she rooted around for something to wear.
"What's wrong with this?" Lily asked Clem, holding the halter neck up as her roommate left the bathroom and crossed the floor to her bedside table. Clem shrugged and picked out a pair of bright red, plastic earrings. She put them on in front of the mirror, admiring herself, then turned to Lily.
"Where's Lettie?"
Scarlett, or Lettie as they called her (among other things), had pranced out of the dorm around two o'clock and had not been seen since.
"Who knows," Lily replied. She stood behind Clementine and looked at her reflection. "Do you have any Sleekeazy's?" she moaned, pulling at her hair in an effort to make it straighter. This morning she'd taken out the braids Clem had put in last week, and now her hair was just a frizzy mess, even after she'd had a shower.
Clem snorted. "Why would I? My hair's fine without it."
"I do!" Gwen piped up, pulling her nose out of her trunk long enough to throw Lily a bottle, before shoving it back in again.
One hour later, Clementine and Gwen were ready to go, Lily hadn't finished de-frizzing her hair, and Scarlett was still missing.
"You guys go on without me," Lily said, as Gwen complained for the fifth time that she was bored with waiting. I'll stay here and see if Scarlett shows up by the time I'm finished." Clementine reluctantly agreed, not keen on leaving her alone, but they went anyway.
Once Lily was happy with her hair, had thrown on a shirt, a knitted tank top and a pair of flared jeans, she waited for Scarlett. It was almost half seven, and she'd promised to be there by quarter to, so she had to leave now or end up late, something she hated being.
She opened the door and stepped out, before a thought struck her. Grabbing a quill from the dresser, she scribbled a quick note to Scarlett on an empty paper bag Gwen had discarded, after finishing all the jelly snakes previous contained in it.
Scarlett, waited till half past. Will meet you in Hogsmeade. Love, Lily.
She needn't have done so, because no sooner had she put the pen down, footsteps could be heard running up the winding stone staircase. Lily turned, and saw her best friend standing just inside the room, looking like she had been caught in a thunderstorm.
Her normally shiny hair was bedraggled, her white shirt had gone see-through and there were large black marks beneath her eyes where her mascara had run. Scarlett was holding Lily's sunglasses in one hand, and she managed to mumble the words "Lily, I've done something incredibly stupid," through her sobs, before collapsing on her bed in a fit of hysterics.
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Review, my lovely readers! (Because, I swear, reviewing really gives me motivation to write more!)