Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, do you really care?
Author's Note: Holy freaking God! I'm sorry this took a while. You know how end of semesters work, and how holiday's work, and how people have to take time getting used to school when they come back – well, that's what happened with me and my betas. I apologize very much, as I had wanted to post two chapters in December (one as a Christmas present). I'm really sorry about that. But I'm back, and the chapters will be flowing once again. Forgive me. I will try to get the next chapter up in a couple of weeks, since this one came up so late.
ALSO, I've noticed that there is now a nice feature where I can respond to your reviews as I get them, so now I will try doing that instead of taking up copious amounts of space at the start of the chapter. I will try to answer all of your reviews for last chapter like that relatively soon, but if I miss a few of you, I am very sorry (I don't know when they did the system switch over for it, so it might not be possible for me to respond to all of them).
WARNING! This chapter contains explicit sexual material. I didn't want to change the rating as most of the story is still PG-13, but there will be certain chapters with warnings like this one, when there is sexual content (yes, I finally wrote some of that stuff, because it's kind of important in this story, and I'm no longer uncomfortable writing it). It is important for you to note that the sexual content in this chapter is not happy. It is not rape, I really am not a fan of rapefics, but it is not happy, healthy sex. I promise that this won't always be the case, it was just essential for this chapter. If anyone is pissed that I haven't changed the rating on this fic, please just let me know, and I will, otherwise I will continue to give warnings per chapter. Also don't be distressed at what happens – I promise it will get better (you know I'm not one for unhappy endings wink).
So here's the chapter! I warn you, it is not the happiest…
Chapter Seven – Pranks, Swords, and Blood
THEN – Marauder Seventh Year
"You!"
Sirius rolled his eyes. Seven years. He had dealt with that voice for seven years. The constant nagging. The rude insults. Those violet eyes flashing in regular annoyance. At least he only had a few months left to deal with it.
He turned to face her on the lawn. He had been chatting with James by the large oak tree. Ivy, Lily, and Remus were nearby studying, and Peter was doodling on a parchment roll. A large crowd was sitting outside under various forms of shade, all letting the day waste away as the warm breeze swept across the grounds. But now a voice was shattering the peace.
It was nothing new. Everyone was used to it by then.
"What now?"
"My essay has been ruined! You have some nerve – trying a trick like that in the library!"
Now, Sirius remembered. He had jinxed the essay of one of his least favorite Slytherins, so that the ink would disappear. However, it hadn't seemed to work at the time. He thought back and realized that Guinevere had been sitting nearby, and her bookbag had been on the table next to the boy's essay. Perhaps he had hit the bag and gotten her essay on accident.
"My dear Guinevere," Sirius said with a smirk, not entirely sorry, "if that is the case, I am most deeply apologetic. It was a mistake, and I am shocked to learn that you were on the receiving end of such unjust behavior."
"You did it on purpose, Black!" she roared. "And when I tried to reverse the spell, my essay burnt to pieces. I have to do it over!"
Sirius sighed. Well, that made his day for sure. He looked at her seriously. "If it's really that much of a problem, I'll redo the essay for you. Just stop making such a fuss."
"Do it for me?" she hissed dangerously.
"Yes. For you. As in, I do the essay and you hand it in with your name on it." Sirius spoke loud and deliberately as if Guinevere had a learning problem.
"You lying, cheating, low-life, immoral – "
"Oh, for God's sake," Sirius breathed. "Why are you so impossible? Really, you're wound so tight, you'll probably shag with your legs closed."
At this point, everyone was looking up, wondering what the next move was. A few had 'ooooo-ed' at Sirius' last comment, but they weren't heard because at that moment, Guinevere raised her wand and shouted furiously.
Sirius' hair turned bright pink.
He looked up through his fringe and then back down, quite unimpressed. "Is that the best you can do?" he goaded. A quick tap with his own wand and his hair was back to normal. "Come on, try again."
Guinevere looked positively murderous. Pulling her arm back like she was about to swing a baseball bat, she shouted another curse. Sirius knocked it aside with his wand before it even reached him.
"Oh, you can do better! Aren't you supposed to be one of the prize Ravenclaw students?"
She shot another curse, which Sirius deflected back at her. It hit her full in the face and knocked her backwards, clearly only meant to throw someone to the ground. She got up, pink in the face, brushing grass off her robes while everyone laughed.
Sirius smiled. "Tata, dear Guinevere. Do come back when you're in a better mood."
She turned sharply on her heel and began stalking away. When she got two steps, though, Sirius flicked his wand and muttered something under his breath.
Guinevere's clothes tore down her back. A hand quickly went there to pinch the clothes together, and she turned on him. But no words would come out. Too many people were laughing.
"Now you can really see the stick up her arse!" Sirius said gleefully, waving goodbye to her.
Guinevere turned around with tears in her eyes, and ran back to the castle, hands keeping her clothes together.
Sirius was still in stitches, although half of the people present were in shock. Suddenly, he felt a hand strike him across the face. He turned to see Lily, seething with anger beyond measure.
"Of all the low, cowardly, shameful things you could have done!" she shouted. But she couldn't continue. Like Guinevere, she had no words. She slapped Sirius again before taking off in the girl's direction. James, after tossing Sirius an unhappy glance, followed Lily.
"What?" Sirius called after him. "No one saw anything, her reflexes were fine! Please, this is the sort of thing that happens to everyone in school at some point. She's been asking for it!"
He went over to where Remus was sitting. "Come on, Moony, back me up here."
Remus looked up from his book. He didn't look angry. He didn't look appalled or shocked. Not even disgusted.
He just looked disappointed. That was enough.
Sirius was ashamed. But he still looked to Ivy, to see if someone would be on his side.
Ivy glared venomously at him before looking back to her book. "Go away, Sirius. I think it's going to be a while before anyone talks to you again."
Sirius backed up, confused and angry that everyone had gone cold on him so quickly. It's not like 'dear Guinevere' is going to be permanently scarred by it…
He stalked off into the evening air.
"I just can't believe that he did that," Lily exclaimed angrily. "What was he thinking?"
James sighed. "Sirius doesn't usually think before he does something like that. He just acts on his gut."
"And his gut told him to split her clothes from collar to backside?" Lily roared.
They were all sitting in the common room, trying to figure out what had happened that had made Sirius snap like that. Sirius had gone to bed early that night, as no one was talking to him, and that gave everyone the perfect opportunity to discuss his failings.
"He's been going through a strange time," James said in an attempt to defend him. "Last year he ran away from home, and this year things have been getting stranger. People have been dying. He's worried about his brother."
Remus cleared his throat. "As much as I sympathize with what he's going through, that doesn't excuse behavior like that. She didn't deserve that, it was completely unwarranted harassment."
"She was trying to curse him into next Easter!" James supplied.
"Oh, she would have never come close, and you know it," Ivy snapped. "There are maybe two people in this school who could really curse you and Sirius, and one of them is sitting right next to you, James!"
James scooted away from Lily slightly, but no one was amused. He sighed. "I'm not saying that he has an excuse," he conceded. "All I'm saying is that he did it for a reason. He didn't just decide to be unusually cruel to her because he thought everyone would get a kick out of it."
"Funny, that's what it seemed like he was doing," said Lily cynically.
James rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. He knew that he was the only person in the room who would even try to see where Sirius was coming from. He also knew that at the moment he was the only one who cared. Which didn't surprise him, as he had been disturbed at Sirius' behavior too. But he didn't like hearing everyone bashing his best friend. Sirius was a better person than that, and he had more problems than anyone knew about. Mainly because Sirius never cared to admit them.
"Look," he tried again, "we all know that something has been going on between the two of them since first year. They rub each other the wrong way, and they go out of their ways to try and piss each other off. We always thought that maybe they felt something besides outright loathing – "
"I'd rule that one out," Ivy snorted.
"Are you sure?" James questioned. "Because I always get the feeling that there is tension there that goes way beyond classroom hatred. I mean, I have my bouts with Snape, but there's something different going on with them."
"Such as?" Lily asked disbelievingly.
James shrugged. "I always got the feeling that they maybe fancied each other."
"You did?" said Lily. She was clearly surprised that James had thought what she once believed, and had never said anything about it. "Where did you get that idea?"
"Sirius always likes a challenge. And she hates him so extraordinarily…"
"Meaning…" Remus pressed.
"Meaning that maybe she acts like she hates him because she's angry that she's attracted to someone who makes her so angry. She wouldn't be the first girl around here to like Sirius without good reason."
"Oh, you mean like every girl in the school?" Remus stated with mock reason.
"Precisely," said James with a nod.
"Well, whatever the case, he blew it," Ivy interjected. "She's not going to forgive him for that. And if that's Sirius' way of showing affection, he's got some issues."
"Of course he does. Did you meet his mother?" James said in an undertone. Everyone looked at him curiously. "Look, I shouldn't be saying anything because he never talks about them for his own reasons, but his family would make it hard for anyone to be emotionally healthy. Sirius has always had problems expressing himself the way he wants. That's why he tries to live so large. He tries to feel everything because he was taught to feel nothing. And he does what he wants because he was told that everything he wanted was wrong."
No one could really think of anything to say to that. James was the only person who had any authority when it came to knowing Sirius on real terms. And this was the most that James had ever said regarding the Black family. No one could argue the point, and no one could be angry with Sirius for that.
"I've heard my father talk about them," Ivy whispered. "They really are terrible people. Sometimes I forget that he grew up with them."
Everyone nodded. James was grateful to see that he was finally gaining ground.
"Nothing excuses what he did today," he said slowly. "But every time he gets far out of line, I try to remind myself of how lucky I am that he is who he is. Every moment that he shows that he worries for us or cares for us is a moment that he goes against everything he was taught by his family. Every time he defends Lily when someone calls her a mudblood, he is going against centuries of family conditioning. Every time he stays with Remus during the full moon, he is showing courage where everyone else in his family cowers away. The fact that he is who he is, that's what makes the difference. And he screws up a lot, but at least he feels remorse for his mistakes. At least he cares enough to admit that he was wrong."
"I can hear you talking about me, you prat."
James' shoulders froze. Sirius was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at them all. Everyone stared at the ground guiltily. He wasn't supposed to know, but now they had been caught.
Sirius came down the stairs slowly, in his pajamas, looking sleepy but restless. He stood in front of them, running a hand through his hair one times too many and scratching his back longer than necessary.
"Look, I was stupid. I didn't really mean to…. It just happened, and then it was too late…. It's not like I could have apologized to her. She doesn't believe a word I say no matter what. She just hates me like that. And I'm a right bastard, we all know that…"
He sat down next to Ivy on the couch, hoping that she would look at him so he would know what she was feeling. He knew that James and Remus would forgive him, but he couldn't stand the thought of his Little Sister hating him.
"Ives, I just am incapable of being a good person. You know that, right? You always said I was a bloody idiot, and now I've just gone and proved it."
"You weren't supposed to," she whispered.
"What do you want me to do? Name it, and I'll do it."
Ivy exhaled. "Just promise that you won't do anything like that again. No matter what she says or does to you. You're a better person than that, even when you say you're a jerk. Just leave her alone."
"All right."
Ivy looked up at him finally. She allowed a small smile to reach her face. Sirius smiled back. And then she launched herself forward and hugged him. Sirius wrapped his arms around her tight and sighed in relief. Remus looked on them both fondly, and James just shook his head in amusement. Lily was still not impressed.
Once Ivy had let go of him, Sirius looked to Lily. "Come on, Lily, you can't hate me forever. I'm going to be the best man at your wedding."
Lily kicked him under the coffee table and laughed while he cursed at his newly bruised shin.
"We'll see about that, Black."
NOW
Sirius was in a rush to get to Remus' office. He had just found out when Charlie's first visit to the Werewolf Registry would be, and he wanted to be certain that Remus could go with the boy. However, as he hurried through the castle, he came upon a sight that he did not expect.
Ivy walking toward the courtyard, carrying a sword.
"What are you doing?" he shouted in her direction.
She spotted him and smiled. "I could ask you the same question, but I'm late. Want to join me?"
"No, I have to talk to Remus first. Maybe later."
"All right, you'll be missing quite the show."
Sirius looked at the sword in her hand one last time. "I have no doubt of that."
And so he continued until he reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's office. He knocked on the door, heard a familiar, mellow voice say, "Come in," and entered to find Remus at his desk, grading papers.
"Essays already?" said Sirius, shutting the door behind him. "Doesn't it seem a bit early for that?"
Remus looked up and shook his head, smiling. "Hardly. We're already a month into school and I have to make sure that my Seventh Years are up to par, so that they're ready for a N.E.W.T. level course."
Sirius sat down in one of the chairs opposite Remus' desk. "How're they looking so far?"
Remus lifted one of the parchment rolls off his desk and stared at it thoughtfully. "They are all quite decent, actually. This generation has reason to know a great deal about defending themselves, of course. They're not quite as capable as Harry's year, but they have a better understanding than I wish they had."
Sirius sighed. "Makes me wish I was coming here under better circumstances."
Remus frowned and set the paper down. "What?"
"Well, remember that kid I told you about? Charlie, the muggle boy who was bitten recently? Well, he got his first call to go to the Werewolf Registry. I just wanted to know if you could come. I'm going too, and Guinevere will also probably be there since we try to accompany our people there whenever possible, but I know Charlie would feel better with you there. Frankly, so would I."
Remus stared at the window to his right, his expression instantly sober. "When is he being called for?"
"This Sunday."
He nodded. "I'll be there. I'm probably due for a check-in myself."
Sirius winced inwardly. He always felt terrible when he knew that Remus had to go there. He was hoping that Remus could merely accompany Charlie, but he knew that it was probably best for Remus to deal with them too. The Werewolf Registry had a habit of getting suspicious about every person they kept track of.
Sirius decided to lighten the mood. "So what's Ivy doing? I saw her heading toward the south courtyard on my way in."
Remus groaned and leaned back in his chair, his fingers still fiddling aimlessly with the quill he had been using to grade papers. It was a habit they he had always had, for as long as Sirius could remember.
"I don't bloody know anymore. She and Mr. Wilcott are always off doing something. I've just sort of given up. I'm usually asleep by the time that she gets back in."
"What time do you usually go to bed?" asked Sirius, more than a little concerned.
Remus' eyes shifted away. "Well, I've been going to bed quite early lately."
"What time?" Sirius prodded more sternly.
Remus shrugged as if it didn't really matter. "Around nine 'o'clock."
Sirius could think of only one thing to say to that. "Old man."
Remus snorted. "What are you blathering on about?"
"Old… man…"
"Sirius, I really don't think that you – "
"Oh, Remus, don't go off on me about how I've never been married, so I couldn't possibly understand what's going on here!" Sirius grumbled. "If you want any sort of relationship with your wife, you can't go to bed at nine when she's the headmistress of Hogwarts!"
Remus' voice went dangerously quiet. "She is the one that chooses to go off all the time with that cowboy."
Sirius could not believe what he was hearing. Not from their ever-rational, always-giving-the-benefit-of-the-doubt Remus. "So you think she's cheating on you now, is that what it is?"
Remus shoved his chair away from his desk, stood up, and began pacing violently around the room. "I don't know what to think!"
Sirius found himself on his feet, shouting too. "Oh, please, Remus! You're being completely ridiculous! She worked so hard to get you, and now you're letting everything go because you just don't feel like telling her the truth!" When Remus tried to turn away from him, Sirius walked around him and got right in his face. "Where's the wolf, Remus? Where's the one who would fight for his mate, instead of cowering in the corner while the weaker man wins?"
That was the breaking point. With nothing short of a roar, Remus grabbed Sirius by the collar of his shirt and threw him up against the wall.
"Right here," he answered, his eyes flashing with what Sirius could swear was a hint of gold.
Sirius did not look away from that gaze. He didn't dare. "Better," was the light response he rejoined with.
But Remus did not let him go. He continued to stare him down, murder in his eyes. And Sirius knew that Remus was at war with himself. The wolf was having dominance issues, and Sirius was an easy target to take out that anger on. Because Remus was tired of being rational and stoic.
Remus wanted blood.
Sirius met the stare unflinchingly. His voice held no note of fear, and he spoke slowly. "Remus. Let me go."
And after a moment's hesitation, his friend let go of him.
However, Remus was not horrified the way he normally was when his other half came to the surface. He was merely angry and tired. He walked back to his chair and sat, not giving one hint of an apology. Instead, he picked up his quill and went back to his papers.
"Anyway, it's none of my affair," he said nonchalantly. "I think I heard some of the students saying that they were going to be giving dueling examples to anybody who cared to watch. I personally hope that Ivy jinxes him into the next world."
Sirius paused at the lack of sense between what he'd seen and what Remus had said. "Ah, mate, I think you're a little mixed up."
Remus kept his eyes fixed on the essay in front of him. "How's that?"
"Wrong kind of duel."
"Talk sense, Sirius."
Sirius rolled his eyes at the feigned denseness of his friend. "She was carrying a sword, Remus."
Remus' head shot up. "A what?"
"They're having a real duel. The old-fashioned way."
Remus bolted up from his desk, his eyes widening in horror. "No…"
He was out of his office quick as lightening, Sirius right at his heels.
When they reached the courtyard, they found a large crowd assembled, blocking the view of what was happening in the fight. The students looked thoroughly impressed, however. They applauded and 'oooo'ed and 'aahhhh'ed every few seconds, and whispered among each other.
Some of the students spotted Remus and cleared a path for he and Sirius. They reached the front and blanched at the sight before them.
Ivy was standing on the rim of the fountain, sword and dagger in her hands, raining blow after blow down on Clayton's head. He was parrying quite efficiently, but still looked very much the amateur next to Ivy's surprisingly coordinated attack. Eventually, she leapt down from the fountain's lip and dashed to the edge of the arena that they had created for themselves. Clayton ran after Ivy, moving to strike down on her head, but Ivy blocked the blow with her back turned to him, then spun around and used her dagger to give the top of his hand a little slice.
"Hey!" Clayton shouted in alarm. "I thought we said that this was gonna be a no-contact fight!"
Ivy shot him a devilish smile. "It is. But my fencing teacher always taught me that one or two little cuts never hurt. Builds character, you know. Good to remember that you're only flesh and blood."
"I can remember that just fine!" Clayton responded, trying to seem like he wasn't totally shocked and upset by the bleeding gash on the back of his perfect hand. "But it still hurts!"
Ivy tilted her head in mock concern. "Aw, come on, are you going to complain about a minor scratch you got during a little tussle from a girl?"
"Man or woman doin' the cutting, a flesh wound is still a flesh wound," Clayton shot back at her with a grin.
Ivy pretended to wipe a tear from her eye, mischievous smile still in place. "Oh, boohoo! Are you just going to stand there talking about it, or are you going to make me pay for your grievous injury?"
Clayton returned her trouble-maker stare and charged after her. This time, he had a trick of his own to play. When Ivy turned around to meet his attack, he ducked under her sword and came up behind her, using his hilt to pummel her in the back. Ivy went sprawling to the ground. Remus nearly leapt into the arena and gouged out Clayton's eyes, but Ivy immediately turned over on her back to look up at the Texan, a smile surprisingly still in place.
"Nice one," she tossed back at him.
Clayton shrugged smugly. "Builds character, ya know. You're only flesh'n'blood, after all."
Ivy leaned back on her shoulders and used them to spring to her feet, dagger still in hand. She then kicked her sword up onto her toe, and up again to her hand. "Yeah, right. What's next? You'll tell me that you're not really right-handed?"
He shook his head. "'Fraid I'm not that clever."
Ivy's lower lip stuck out in a pout. "Pity."
Then, without warning, she struck. This time, she locked Clayton's sword and dagger with her own. They were face to face, battling will against will, strength against strength. They were close enough that only a mere inch of space would have to be breached in order to leave them lip-locked.
"Time?" Remus called out carefully.
Ivy released the lock and turned to look at her husband. "Nice of you to join us, dear! What can I do you for?"
Remus tried his best not to look angry, jealous, worried, or any offshoot of those emotions. "Can I have a quick word with you? It's important."
Ivy looked around at the massive crowd that had assembled. She was reluctant to leave while the battle was just starting to get fun, but she caught the look in his eye, and knew that this was not something she should shrug off. "Sure. Five minutes everyone."
She followed Remus out of the arena, while everyone broke into hushed whispers about the fight, and Clayton practiced drills by the fountain.
Remus motioned for Ivy to follow him into an empty classroom, and closed the door behind them.
"What's up?" Ivy asked, her innocent eyes locking with his, making Remus feel instantly guilty.
"Has it not occurred to you that practicing such a dangerous sport with a man who clearly has less experience than you, in front of the students no less, might not be the wisest decision?"
That was clearly not the tactic he should have used. Ivy was not impressed with the scolding. "You sound like Minerva."
"I don't want you to get hurt," Remus entreated.
Ivy gave a silent heave of laughter, and looked at the floor. "Remus, I was taught how to fence when I was seventeen. I've been doing it for years, but I haven't had the opportunity to do it here. I used to be able to leave Hogwarts some evenings to go to classes and clubs for it last year, but now I can't. Clayton doesn't have quite as much experience as me, but his style is different, and it's interesting. And it allows me to keep doing it."
Remus sighed exasperatedly. "Ivy, if you want me to learn how to fence, I will. Just say so, and I'll do it. But he – "
Ivy's brow creased. She still smiled, although the smile got more pained as they continued talking. "Remus, that's not what this is about. It's about me doing something that I enjoy. I don't need you to learn how to do it. I just need to find a way to do it for myself. Now, if you'll excuse me – "
When she turned to leave, Remus grabbed her arm. She turned back to him, puzzled and a little shocked.
"Ivy, don't – "
"We're going to be dueling with katana blades next, Remus," she said more sternly. "If that is going to make you too nervous, you don't have to watch."
He had no choice but to let her go.
When he followed out of the room a minute after she had left, Sirius was waiting for him.
"That probably was not the best way to handle that, Moony."
Remus' face showed no emotion whatsoever. "I don't want to talk about it now, Sirius."
Sirius nodded and watched Remus walk back toward his office. When he turned around he thought he saw a head duck behind a column nearby, but when he checked there was no one there. Strange, he thought, but he walked back to the arena and saw no one missing that he had noticed before. Thinking it must have been a trick of the light or some student caught in a tough spot, he ignored it and left.
Remus was sitting at breakfast, trying not to betray himself with every breath he took. Ivy was sitting to his left, and on the other side of her, Mr. Wilcott was talking up a storm about some tornado disaster that his school had faced in his first year as deputy headmaster. Remus' stomach was churning. Taking in food was not the best idea at that moment, so he sipped his coffee, and took the Daily Prophet from the owl that had landed in front of him
When he read the headline, he dropped his stirring spoon.
Ivy heard the clatter and turned to him. "What is it?"
Remus held the paper in front of her so she could read the headline:
ANTI-WEREWOLF PROTESTORS STORM THE MINISTRY
"Oh my God," Ivy whispered. "What does it say?"
Remus pulled the paper back toward himself and scanned the article as thoroughly as he felt he was able. When he was done, he handed it over to Ivy, who snatched the paper from him and began skimming it for herself.
"It says that the protestors have now organized into one group," he explained as she read. "They've gone to the Ministry and demanded that harsher action be taken against werewolves. They want us branded and easily identifiable. They want to make sure that we can't work in places where 'decent people' work, and that we are not given government aid when we are in dire need. They say it's like giving money to Death Eaters and murderers."
Ivy had raised a hand to cover her mouth as she continued to read the article. "Remus…" she said shakily, "they have a whole section on you."
She handed the paper back to him, pointing at the section she had just read. Remus looked carefully at the small print:
There is particular concern among the protestors about the continued appointment of Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin. One protestor commented, "Letting that monster teach such a dangerous subject is letting our children take an easy road into debauchery and evil. The cosmos know what sort of dark ways he is teaching the children of Hogwarts. We can only pray that they haven't been lost to his wicked ways yet."
The leader of the WPO (Werewolf Protestors Organization), Cynthia Dammers, has made it very clear that getting Lupin out of Hogwarts is one of the primary goals of the protestors: "Everyone knows that the only reason Remus Lupin is still at Hogwarts is because his wife is now the headmistress. The fact that Ivy Dumbledore has allowed this man access to the youth of our world is shameful and abhorrent. She may be lost, caught up in the spell that he has woven around her, but we will do our best to make sure that she sees the light, and realizes the obligation to the students and parents in the Hogwarts community. Divorcing herself completely from this creature is the only thing that will put the school back in balance."
Neither Headmistress Dumbledore, nor Professor Lupin have made any comments about the protestors, or Lupin's current standing as a staff member, now that these remonstrations have started.
Remus felt utterly ill. He looked to Ivy with fear in his eyes. She looked back at him with tears in her own.
"Oh, Remus," she whispered, "what are we going to do?"
He shook his head and stared blindly at the paper. He suddenly felt heavy, as if someone had loaded sacks of metal into his shoulders. Looking up, he noticed that many of the students were staring at him. Clearly, they had all read the article as well.
"Ivy."
They both looked up to find Minerva standing over them, a concerned expression on her face.
"For all we know, the protestors could be silenced in a week. Don't worry about this now."
"But Minerva," Ivy said in a distressed voice, "what happens if this movement gains momentum? What happens if people start listening to them?"
Minerva's back stiffened further, if that were possible. "I continue to have faith in people, Ivy. You should try to do the same. The good people in our world will not stand for this; it's a blatant violation of human rights."
"You forget, Minerva," Remus said softly, "to them we're not human."
"Oh, Remus, do stop being so dramatic," the older woman snapped back sharply. Remus had to wonder if she did it for him or for herself.
"I just have ta ask," Clayton interjected into the silence, "what would really be so bad about there being a clear and easy way of identifying a werewolf? I mean, it would make it easier for people to avoid getting bitten if they knew instantly that someone was a werewolf."
Remus looked at him incredulously. "The only time a werewolf can seriously harm you is when they're transformed. Branding or tagging only serves so that it is easier for people to be prejudice against werewolves. When it's plain for people to see, they are less likely to hire you, less likely to rent you a room to stay in, less likely to serve you. It is nothing short of bigotry."
Clayton did not seem at all moved by what Remus had said. "Yeah, but aren't there some werewolves who try ta bite people when they aren't transformed? It would be good if everyone knew who they were so that they could avoid having accidents. I've heard that partial bites can really mess a person up."
Remus shook his head irately. "There are only a handful of werewolves who attack when they aren't transformed, and the effect that usually leaves is minute. People just like finding ways to cool their paranoia about what they fear."
Clayton had the audacity to shrug. "Well, ya know what they say, one bad apple 'an all that…"
Remus pushed out from the table, stood up and glared at the Texan. "I'm not hungry anymore," he said through clenched teeth. With that, he stormed out of the Great Hall.
He had reached the staircase when he heard her voice behind him. "Remus, wait – "
He turned around to face her, anger etched on his countenance. "I really need to not talk about this right now, Ivy."
Ivy looked downcast, but brightened up again. "Then let's go do something. Just the two of us. We can get our minds off of this for a little bit, and figure out what to do later."
"I have classes. And I'm sure that you have something incredibly important to do."
"Remus, I care about my life more than I care about my job. I care more about you – "
"Well then, maybe your priorities are out of line."
Ivy closed her mouth abruptly at the cutting blow. She stared up at him as he walked up the stairs and vanished from sight.
He didn't dare turn around and look at her. He was tired of watching the pain he caused.
Sirius was in a not-so-good place. He had heard about the protests, but when he had gone to talk to Remus, he found his friend cold and unresponsive. Ivy seemed completely dazed and out of her element, as though she had suddenly forgotten who she was. He didn't ask either of them what had happened, as he was sure he'd get snapped at by one and ignored by the other. It looked like one of the strongest relationships he had ever seen was ripping apart at the seams.
Guinevere had been on the rampage all week, partly due to the protestors, and partly due to their little spat after the football match. She'd been short with him all week, and he had just tried to stay out of her way.
But now it was Friday again, and he was supposed to be having dinner with his partner. He couldn't think of anything he'd less like to do.
He knocked on the door and waited a long time before it opened. Guinevere finally answered the door, in her apron, and motioned him inside.
"Dinner's nearly ready. You can put down your jacket and come and sit down, if you like."
She sounded like she was really saying, "I hate you. Get the fuck out of my house", but Sirius didn't think it was a good idea to mention that when she looked so positively unfriendly. Slipping off his leather jacket, he followed her back into the kitchen and took a seat at the table.
He watched her work silently for a few seconds before he decided that he would try to be amicable.
"Do you need some – "
"No," she said quickly, cutting him off.
Sirius nodded to no one in particular and stared at the ceiling with mild interest. I could fix that crack…
Guinevere set a plate down in front of him, poured a glass of wine for him and sat down.
Sirius smiled, still attempting to salvage the evening before it was too late. "You still have your apron on," he pointed out. "I promised that I would let you know the next time that happened."
With a look of angry indifference, she quickly untied the apron and draped it over the back of her chair. She turned back to her food and began cutting up her lamb with fervor, her knife scraping the plate loudly.
Sirius rolled his eyes and decided that he would rather not try to be sweet and kind while she was busy wallowing in anger.
"Bloody hell, Guinevere! Why are we even trying? I mean that. Why are we trying? I can't do anything right, and you love being angry at me. So why don't we just let it go on like this? At each other's throats for the rest of our lives!"
To his surprise, Guinevere threw her fork at him. "Goddamn you, Sirius Black!" she shouted back. "Every time you do something wrong, you suddenly decide to act like I'm the bitch for dragging it on! You're the one screwing up here, all right? Not me! I'm not the problem here!"
Sirius actually laughed at her. "That's what this is about? Who has the problem? Well, when it comes to problems, darling, I'd say we've both got those in spades!"
She leaned forward. "What the hell would you know about my problems?"
He leaned forward. "I've been talking to your brother, remember? Remember how you were all paranoid about that? Well, it's true. I have been talking to him. I know all about you now. All those little nasty secrets that you've been keeping from everyone."
He stood up from the table and walked out of the kitchen, and she followed him, worried about what he'd say next.
He grabbed his jacket from the sofa and slipped it on, enjoying the feeling of the cool leather against his skin. "I know all about your intimacy issues. I know all about your fear of everything in the whole damn world! Hell, if I think about it hard enough, I'll probably remember your favorite sexual position!"
"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Guinevere screamed.
"I AM GETTING OUT OF YOUR HOUSE!" Sirius shouted back, opening the door and slamming it behind him.
He hadn't even gotten all the way down the stairs, when he heard the door open again.
"What are you doing?" she screeched down at him.
"I'm going out on the bike!" he yelled back angrily.
"You can't go out on the bike when you're angry like this, you'll crash in two seconds!"
"Oh, like you care!"
"I will care when Magical Law Enforcement shows up at my door, asking what led up to your speeding into a tree somewhere!"
"Sorry, my dear Guinevere, you're just going to have to live with the guilt!"
"Oh, I won't feel guilty! Just disappointed that I couldn't drive you to it sooner!"
"You sadistic bitch!"
"Oh, you haven't seen me be sadistic yet! Wait a few minutes, I'll come down there and cut the brake lines for your precious motorbike!"
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Try me, you bastard!"
"I'm leaving now, Guinevere!"
"Fine! Get out of here!"
Sirius desperately wanted to hit something very hard by the time he swung his leg over the bike. But as he focused on every terrible thing he could still say to Guinevere, he felt a sharp pain run down his back.
He wanted to ignore it. He knew what it was. And there was only one way to dull it. He needed to find a bar quick.
So he stifled his anger for little while longer, until he could drown himself in firewhiskey.
Remus had barely spoken to Ivy at all that week. She looked at him questioningly every time they crossed paths, but whenever he met her gaze she looked away. Clearly, she did not like what she saw in his eyes.
But now it was Friday. Remus was planning on making it seem like he had to catch up on grading papers that weekend in order to avoid his wife, even though every essay had been thoroughly graded in the many extra hours he had while Ivy was working. He couldn't deal with her. Not when his world seemed on the verge of falling apart.
Now, he was simply looking forward to a night of rest. He arrived at his rooms early, knowing that Ivy was undoubtedly still finishing things up for the day, and walked directly to the bedroom.
Ivy was already in bed, reading.
When he opened the door, she looked up and smiled. It was too late for him to back out.
"Hey. I've been waiting for you to come back. I figured you'd be going to bed early again."
Remus nodded noncommittally and took off his robe, draping it over a chair by the door. He tried to proceed as though she wasn't in the room, unbuttoning his shirt with his back to her.
"The last transformation was hard on you, wasn't it? I figure that's the reason that you've been going to bed so early?"
Remus grunted in approval of her guess. Truthfully, his last transformation had been relatively smooth, and he had started going to bed early before that. She knew that. He couldn't figure out what she was playing at, not with all that innocence in her voice.
After laying his shirt on top of his robe, he moved to his bedside table, laying his wand on it, and pulling various other odds and ends out of his pockets. He heard shifting on the bed, and glanced back to see Ivy on her knees, shuffling toward him. Remus looked away, studying the spare bits of parchment he had just removed from his trousers. Ivy came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pressing herself against his back, kissing his shoulder.
He felt nothing.
Although he could still smell that damn man on her. How could she not notice that scent?
"I know you're mad at me," she whispered suddenly. "I don't pretend to know why."
He pulled away from her, undid his belt and removed his trousers, tossing them onto the chair with the rest of his clothes. He'd deal with them in the morning. He pulled a pair of pajama bottoms out of his dresser and put them on. Then he turned back to look at the bed.
She was sitting on her side again, watching him keenly with sad eyes. He took a deep, silent breath and walked to the bed. After a moments hesitation, he pulled down the covers and got in. He still wanted to avoid this confrontation. He turned away from her, lying down on his side, and turned off the lamp on his table. Reaching one arm up under his pillow to make himself more comfortable, he settled down and waited for sleep to take him.
But Ivy did not move. She was still sitting up. He could feel her eyes on his back. He tried to ignore it.
He tried to for a half an hour.
Finally, he sat up and looked at her. She stared right back.
"Ivy, what do you want?"
She blinked at him in surprise. "You," she said plainly, as if she had made it painfully obvious.
"I can't do this right now. I can't talk to you about what's going on."
"Then talk to me about something else. Or just sit here with me. Just be here with me right now, in this moment. Don't be so far away."
Remus couldn't look at her when she was like this. It always made him feel terrible when Ivy seemed helpless, but now it also made him angry. She had no right to compound his problems. It wasn't his fault that she was driving him away.
"It was my birthday today," she said softly.
Remus' mouth gaped open. He looked at her.
"We had a party in the staffroom. Nearly-Headless Nick tried to bake me a cake. Luckily, the house elves had a backup. It was a great party, but I was a little upset. Because the one person who I wanted to be there, wasn't. I don't know what he was doing today…. I don't know what he does any day."
He had no words. There was no way to get out of this one.
"Ivy – "
"You forgot," she said with a patient smile on her face. She brought a hand up to his cheek, her fingers whispering over it tenderly. "That's okay. I don't need to know what you've been preoccupied with. I just want you here with me."
Remus tried to ignore the hand on his skin. He tried to figure out what the correct move was in this situation. He knew what he would normally do, but nothing was the same anymore. He didn't even feel really sorry, he just knew that he should. That was the most sickening part of all.
"Please."
That one, pleading word from her lips made up his mind. His heart was somewhere else. His love for her was lost at that moment in time. But she needed something. And he needed to make everything seem like normal for the time being. Until everything straightened itself out.
So he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss, and reached his hands down to her hips to pull up her nightgown. She lifted her arms instinctually, as he removed the clothing and dropped it on the floor. He reached over her quickly and turned out the lamp on her table. Then, with one hand under her back to cradle her, he tilted her down onto the mattress, his lips moving to her neck as he heard her gasp.
It all felt robotic. Like he wasn't in control of his own body. He knew what made her feel good, and that's what he would do. And everything would seem normal again.
And maybe she would stop trying to figure out what was wrong.
His hands traveled down to her breasts and he moved his thumbs in slow circles while his tongue wandered over the shell of her ear. Ivy made noises riddled with such debauchery that he knew he should have been tempted to enjoy himself as well.
But whenever he thought of that, images filled his head. Images of another man with sandy hair, a perfect body, and a twangy accent. Images of that man lying on top of her, working his way in and out. Licking every inch of her body while she made those same sinful noises.
She made those noises for that man, and she called out his name. Her hands threading through his sandy hair the way they used to thread through his…
They were just images in his head, but they made him feel sick. And he couldn't join her when he felt repulsed by her.
So he continued his systematic attack on her senses. He hoped that she wouldn't notice how far he was removed from the situation. It was silly of him to hope.
From the first kiss, she knew.
She knew he wasn't there. There was no need in his lips. His body felt cold next to hers. She wanted to stop him, but it had been so long since he'd touched her…
It had been so long that she couldn't stop him. Especially when he knew just how to make her crazy, exactly wear to stroke and tease and kiss.
His hands moved further down, finally finding purchase between her legs. The feeling shot through her, making her dizzy, but she wanted to cry out to him to stop. She didn't want this. Not this way.
In a desperate move to try and get him involved, she moved her hand to the waistband of his pajamas. He caught her wrist and placed it on the pillow next to her head, his eyes hollow and unseeing.
"Remus – " she called shakily.
He shushed her with a hand against her mouth. His other hand continued to work her into a fever pitch.
And she hated herself. She hated herself for not having the strength to make him stop. But it had been so long since he had touched her…
Not one hug. Not one kiss or a hand on the shoulder. It had been weeks. That overdriven display in her office, and then everything had stopped. He didn't even look at her for more than five seconds at a time.
His assault continued. He had been working her for some time, but she was not finding release. She found herself conjuring up images of the other times they had been together. Hopefully, it would push her over the edge and they could stop this humiliation.
She focused on the second time during their wedding night. He had been gentle and possessive, and so very playful. His eyes lit by a warmth that was coming from within. And he had studied her every expression, memorized what sent her reeling. He had touched every part of her body to find out where her sweet spots were –
She gasped and cried out, finally reaching the edge. But as she quickly came down, the feeling in her stomach was the one that normally came right after vomiting. It was shaky and painful and spread to every muscle in her body.
Remus didn't notice this.
"Goodnight," he said softly.
Then he rolled over on his side, facing away from her, and fell asleep.
Ivy did not sleep that night. She simply stared at the man on the other side of the bed. No tears fell from her eyes. Her heart was too clenched to allow them.
And she wondered over and over again, what has happened to us?
Guinevere had not gone to sleep. She was waiting for him to get back.
It had been hours since their fight, since he'd taken that motorbike out to God-knew-where. She didn't know why she couldn't sleep until she knew he was back. But she was sitting up on her sofa, waiting for the telltale rumble of that obnoxious engine.
Finally, she heard something at the edge of her senses. It steadily grew louder and louder, until it was clearly on her street. She got up and went to the door, opening it in time to see Sirius crash into the trash cans out front as the bike came to a halt. Instead of moving the bike back, he simply waved his hand at it in annoyance, and staggered toward the door to his flat.
He had a bottle in his hand. And he was already drunk enough that Guinevere was at a loss to explain how he had gotten home in one piece.
She stood out on the landing of the stairs and looked down at him. He was having considerable trouble opening the door.
"What have you been doing all this time?" she called down.
He looked up at her, his eyes squinting unnecessarily. "I'm not talking to you," he said with a definite drunken slur. The door finally opened and he tripped into his flat.
Guinevere followed after him, entering his home without permission. "You are pathetic, do you know that? Getting smashed like this at your age! You're not a teenager anymore, Sirius."
"And you're not my bloody mother!" he shouted back. "Though you might as well be. I hated her too…"
He took off his jacket and dropped it on the floor, wincing. Then, without warning, he pulled his shirt over his head and threw that to the ground as well.
Guinevere expected to be impressed by the build of Sirius Black's back and shoulders. Every girl in school used to talk about how impressive his body was when they were younger. Instead, she gasped.
This was not the boy she had known all those years ago.
He had two tattoos on his back. The one on his left shoulder blade read "damned" in an ancient demonic language that Guinevere had studied in her research on vampires. On his lower back just above his belt line, there was a symbol of the old pagan god that controlled the forces of evil.
And running across his back, there were scars from whip wheals. One of them was not a scar, though. It was bleeding steadily, the crimson liquid running down Sirius' back.
"What happened to you?" she whispered, rushing to his side and placing a hand on his arm.
Sirius pulled away from her instantly. "Just an old wound that acts up every now and then. Usually when I'm upset."
Guinevere did not understand how whip wheals could suddenly reopen without the body having tremendous strain placed on it, but she didn't think he would be able to explain that very well in his current state.
"How did you get these wounds?"
Sirius took a long swig from the bottle he was holding before he answered. "Azkaban."
Her eyes widened in shock. "They did this to you in prison?"
Sirius nodded sardonically. "Yeah. Thought it was a real laugh, they did."
"The dementors?" Guinevere supplied, trying to understand what she was being told.
Sirius laughed harshly. "No, not the dementors. They have plenty of fun without needing physical torture. But people were sent to check up on the prisoners. High officials cronies and whatnot. They liked to 're-interrogate' for information. Most of them just liked the sound of screaming. And they enjoyed doing bits of artwork on your skin, as I'm sure you've also noticed."
He turned around and stepped closer to her, holding out his arm, palm up. On the inside of his forearm she saw another tattoo, a series of numbers.
"They branded you with your prison number after you were there for a few years. Said it was good to make you feel like one of the family."
"My God…" Guinevere said softly.
"Oh, they'd have none of that," Sirius shot back, waving the bottle in front of her face. "No God for you. After all, your soul is lost and your heart has shrunken to the size of a spec of coal. What could you possibly need with God? And more importantly, what reason would God have to answer your prayers?"
Guinevere didn't need to hear this. She didn't want to know about his experiences in Azkaban. After all, she was too busy hating the man. He was bastard. So why did she feel so guilty when she looked at him like this?
"I can clean that," she began, removing her wand from her pocket.
"No, don't – " Sirius began.
But Guinevere had already muttered a spell to clear the wound. When the gash looked manageable enough to start a wound closure charm, however, a new spill of blood cascaded down his back. Much more blood than the first time.
"The wounds don't respond well to magic healing," Sirius hissed in pain. "They didn't want anyone coming in and having an easy time cleaning you up. Mainly because no one would bother to lend you a hand in there if it required more than five seconds of their time. Even the prison doctor wouldn't fix you up if he actually had to touch you. Didn't want any sort of real contact with such vile characters as us."
"But you didn't…" Guinevere's voice trailed off.
Sirius turned around to look at her with a twisted smile. "Ah, but I did, remember? Back then, I was the one who killed James and Lily Potter…"
He had stopped suddenly, and without warning he staggered toward the window, leaving the bottle on the coffee table. Bracing himself against the glass with one hand on either side of the pane, he stared up at the dark sky.
"You didn't know James very well," Sirius said hoarsely, his eyes still fixed on the stars. "He had the most contagious laugh, the easiest smile. He knew how to make every problem in the world go away in the space of one minute. He just always knew exactly what to say. When I was in Azkaban, every moment of our friendship was erased. He was the only person who had saved me when everything was going to hell, and suddenly he was gone. But I deserved that."
Guinevere didn't know how to stop him, even though she knew that he would regret this outburst in the morning. So she fed him instead in hopes that he would get everything out of his system. "Why?"
"… I killed him," Sirius whispered, dropping his forehead to the glass pane.
She didn't know what to say or even what he meant. She decided to keep listening.
And she didn't have to wait long for him to elaborate. "I told him that Peter was a better choice than I was for a secret keeper because no one would ever suspect him. He asked me to do it, and I told him to hand his life, and the life of his family, over to that vermin. And when I think back on it now, after all the time reliving that moment in prison at the behest of the dementors, I can't tell whether I did it because I honestly felt that way, or if I did it because I was too much of a coward to do what he asked of me."
Guinevere walked up behind him, standing at his back. "You are not a coward," she said firmly. "You are many things I dislike, but you are not a coward, Sirius."
He snorted. "You don't know me, Guinevere. How would you know I'm not a coward? You don't know who I am at all. After all, I am a member of the Noble And Most Ancient House of Black."
He spoke those last words with such hatred in his voice that Guinevere's skin crawled.
"What are your parents like?" Sirius asked.
"Well, they're gone now," Guinevere clarified, "but they were good parents. A bit strict I suppose, but then again, I think I turned out a lot more anal than they ever were. They were just both very intelligent and hard-working. And they worried about us constantly, they were very protective."
Sirius turned back to her, the same cheerless smile on his face. He leaned back against the window because he couldn't stand up straight. It seemed that he was plenty chatty when he was drunk, but coordination was something else entirely.
"You were lucky," he said shortly. "My parents were pureblood sadists. And they loved telling my brother and I about the nobility of our family line whenever they could spare a breath. There are few people in the world that I reserve absolute hatred for; it isn't worth the energy to hate most people. But for my parents, I could always find the extra energy. From the time I was a little kid."
Guinevere couldn't believe what she was hearing. Certainly she had known the reputation of Sirius' family, but she always assumed that he had agreed with their ideals. What would it have been like growing up in that house if you didn't agree with the master and mistress?
"And they hated me," Sirius continued, as if in response to Guinevere's thoughts. "But they loved my poor brother. Daft little bloke that he was."
Sirius adopted a rather high, obnoxious screech, that Guinevere assumed was the voice he used to imitate his mother.
"Oh, Regulus, you're such a good boy! You understand the importance of being a Black, of being true to your family. Unlike that little traitor that we have living under our roof. If he doesn't shape up soon, he'll have to start watching his meals. I've been considering poison for some time…"
Staggering over to the coffee table to snatch up the bottle, he continued his theatrics, one hand shooting out to brace himself on the furniture he passed.
"Sirius Black, you get down here at once! If I hear one more word about you talking to mudbloods and spending time with that monster and that Potter boy, I'll beat you with this cane and lock you up in the attic with the ashes of your ancestors! Maybe that will teach you to respect your heritage, you miserable little wretch!"
He had made it to the hallway, and was now zigzagging down it in search of his bedroom. Guinevere followed to make sure that he got there all right.
"Yes, mother, he's in Gryffindor. No, we don't know what to do about it. We were going to contest it, but the little beast had the nerve to tell us that he wanted to be in Gryffindor! And that he has friends there! We don't know what to do with him, mother, we really don't. We were thinking of taking him to see that doctor that the Malfoys mentioned. He's supposed to work wonders with hopeless cases like him. It causes a great deal of pain and sometimes brain damage, but I think it would be worth it. If only Regulus wouldn't get so upset every time I mentioned it, he would be there already…"
Sirius took another swig from the bottle dropped it. The glass shattered on the floor, and Guinevere jumped out of the way to keep away from the flying shards. Then Sirius crawled onto his bed and flopped down, head buried in his pillow. He was sprawled across the entire bed, but it looked like he was comfortable, and more importantly, it looked like he was out for the night.
Guinevere was going to leave, but then she heard his words echoing in her head, and she couldn't bear to leave him that way. So she used her wand to put the bottle back together, picked it up, and walked to Sirius' bathroom.
It wasn't well stocked with any sort of first aid supplies, but Guinevere found some clean bandages and a washcloth. She walked back to his room, left those items on his bedside table, and then went to his kitchen. After searching in the cabinets, she found a bowl and filled it with water. She went back to the bedroom.
She moved Sirius over carefully on the bed and sat down beside him. Then she grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey, took a quick sip from it, and poured a liberal amount onto Sirius' wound. He squirmed in his sleep and growled in pain, but she poured more of the alcohol on, and eventually he quieted.
Turning back to the table, she took the washcloth and dipped it into the bowl. She patted his back with the cloth, and when he started shifting again this time, she let a hand trail across the uninjured parts of his back to sooth him. Though he stilled instantly at the touch, she found her hands kept wandering, now over the tattoos on his back, wondering what his life had been like during those twelve years.
And she pitied him. Against her own better judgment, she pitied how he had changed. What they had taken from him. Because even though he still had the same spark, the same wit, the same maddening charm, a part of his fire had died out. It was probably good for him – he couldn't stay twenty forever. But at the same time, he should have been able to make those changes on his own terms.
When she was sure the wound was clean, she bandaged it up, and wrestled him around so she could pull the blankets over him. When he was finally under the covers and turned on his side so he could breathe, she allowed herself to push the hair out of his eyes, and was very nearly outraged at the fact that it was just as soft and silky as it looked.
But she dismissed her anger at how unfairly blessed some people were, and settled simply on whispering, "Goodnight."
Sirius gave a tiny nod in reply and pushed his nose into the pillow. Guinevere straightened up and walked briskly from the house, now feeling very tired and more than ready for a good night's sleep.
Yeah… I told you it wouldn't be the happiest…. But, fear not! Some things will get better in looks through story… two chapters. So hang in there, and all will be well. I hope you are enjoying where all of this is going – it took me places I didn't expect, but I'm very happy with the story, all in all. I'd love to know what you all thought of this chapter, as it is quite dark, so please review! It makes me full of happy, and gives me lots of incentive ;)