Chapter Twelve: Herein Lies the Masked Swordsman's Birthplace

If there was one thing I'd learned during my forced company with Lily Evans, it was this: ginger-nobs were an overly suspicious sort.

Suspicious about there being any point in my setting her three times as many Arithmancy problems as in the actual class. Suspicious about me supposedly trying to get her and my cousin together when I spent half the day popping up everywhere to point out how ruggedly handsome James was, how clever and witty James was, how very wealthy and industrious James was (which I only made a prat of myself doing because he'd taken all my bed linen hostage with a few enviably accurate Summoning Charms and he knew I couldn't sleep without a proper pillow.)

Suspicious about my suggesting we pop off to the Three Broomsticks together for a butterbeer.

Honestly, you'd think I'd been trying to poison her or some other equally excellent idea. Alas, I suffered from that annoying little thing called a soul, and anyway, I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction (of being right, I mean—who the hell was satisfied about being dead?)

At first she stared at me like I'd grown a second head. And then the suspicions started setting in.

"Why? You don't have anything illegal planned, do you, because I'll not cover for you just because I'm Head Girl—"

Are you really, Lily? Goodness, why didn't you tell me sooner?

I smiled in a reassuring manner and said, "What, illegal? No, not me, nothing of the sort. We'll be back in time for curfew, even—and if we aren't, I've got it taken care of. We can invite Aubrey, too, make a girl's night of it."

She eyed me with rather more scepticism than the situation called for, I thought. "It's Sunday evening. We've classes tomorrow."

I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. "Oh, just live a little, why don't you? I know you've finished your homework, because there's no way you'd be sitting here talking to me if you hadn't. You haven't got rounds, either, because it's James' turn tonight. Unless you've already got plans with someone, what else is there to be worried about?"

"Aubrey isn't a legal adult, for one—"

"She doesn't have to drink the real stuff if she doesn't want to. Anyway, Madam Rosmerta's a doll, she won't make a fuss of it—or would you rather go to the Hog's Head?" I cocked a brow.

She made a face. "No, I wouldn't."

"That's settled, then. Get your cloak, so we can find Aubrey and be off," I ordered briskly.

She looked like she was going to protest further, but then seemed to think better of it, because she stood and asked coolly, "I suppose you expect me to pay for some of this, then?"

I shook my head, grinning happily. "Oh, no. My cousin is footing the bill. He owes me, you see. You're acquainted with James, aren't you?" I inquired ironically, then skipped off to track down Aubrey.

The three of us stepped through the door of the Three Broomsticks at seven-thirty, thoroughly soaked to the skin by the icy rain that had pelted our skulls and cloak-covered bodies the whole walk (mad dash, really) here.

"S-So… bloody… c-c-cold," I wheezed, clutching the stitch in my side, collapsing in a sodden, breathless heap against Rosmerta's long, gleaming bar. I supposed this was all adding to my presently questionable endurance, but really, why did exercise have to be so much bloody work?

"'Evening, misses," Madam Rosmerta called jovially from where she stood next to a table to one end of the barroom, where she was serving a foursome of business-like looking wizards a foursome of business-like looking drinks.

Aubrey, who was normally extremely shy as it was, wouldn't have been able to respond anyway, as she was currently bent over double, dripping rainwater and struggling to catch her breath. Lily, however, looked merely rosy-cheeked and a tad breathless, as if she'd just been for a bit of a brisk stroll.

"Hello," she responded, panting slightly with a friendly smile, lifting a hand in greeting. She then went to work wringing out her dripping hair and robes.

"It's good to see you, Tia dear, and you both as well," Rosmerta said genially, coming over. She pulled out her wand and started drying Aubrey's robes quite efficiently. I made a mental note to be sure to learn that spell as soon as possible.

Leaning close to me, her earrings jingling gaily, she added in an undertone, "Especially good to see you in the company of other girls. Your friends are good lads, dear, but a girl needs someone she can relate to on all levels, eh?" She winked.

I stared at her for a moment in astonishment. Oh my God. Did this mean I had a bar-keep confidante? If I wasn't much mistaken, I did indeed. This was wonderful! I'd always wanted one of those, and I could certainly do worse that Rosmerta. Oh tra-la-la and happy days! I had my very own sounding board and part-time supplier of booze!

Hang on. Was that a good thing?

"Eh," I puffed gravely in agreement, then flung an arm each round Lily and Aubrey's shoulders, yanking them close (less as a show of affection, and more so that if I passed out altogether from either hyperventilation or lack of oxygen to the brain, there'd at least be a chance I wouldn't clunk my head on a barstool and succeed in concussing myself rather nicely.)

A few minutes later, we were all thankfully toasty and dry (our hair even styled up fashionably when Rosmerta got it into her head to make us her personal Barbie dolls—we looked quite fit, actually, a bit like Charlie's Angels, only less tarty) and seated in a booth near the hearth, with a nice view of the windows but still enough privacy so that if one of us did something prat-like such as snort milk up their nose (not that milk was on the menu tonight) they would at least be able to rest assured that they'd not disgraced themselves for all eternity. Not in front of anyone who mattered, anyway.

Rosmerta brought us our drinks, balancing them expertly on a tray and setting them one-by-one on the table with great ceremony. "A butterbeer for you, Blackberry vodka for you, and a gillywater and lemon for you, dear—I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Aubrey," Aubrey offered, with her shy smile, usual blush, and a sip of her drink.

Rosmerta smiled back and said, "Lovely name. Enjoy, just give me a shout if you need anything."

"Gracias," I said, with quite an atrocious accent, attacking my Blackberry eagerly. I swallowed a mouthful, made the appropriate face, and said on a gusty breath, "Oh, come on, that's excellent. You'll both have to try one of these, later."

Aubrey studied my glass with a wrinkle of her nose. "But I'm underage."

"Well, that's easy enough to get around. Rosmerta can only get in trouble if she sells alcohol to minors—it's not her fault if the minors take a sip here and now from their perfectly legal mates' glasses, is it?"

Lily was shaking her head, tut-tutting in a superior manner. "You are a terrible influence."

"Yes," I admitted agreeably, "but I have been influenced myself, so it's not really my fault I am the way I am. Sirius Black is the main culprit, though I suppose everybody's had their hand in at some point."

Lily snorted into her butterbeer. "How vulgar," she commented, smiling maliciously.

I paused to go over in my mind what I'd just said, nodded once tranquilly, then plucked Aubrey's lemon wedge from the rim of her glass and chucked it at Lily's head.

She shrieked in outrage, batting at the lemon stuck in her hair, and I said, smiling grimly, "Relax, citric acid is really good for hair. Possibly. Plus it leaves you smelling lemony fresh." I beamed cheerfully at the thought.

She narrowed her eyes at me, then allowed her lips to twitch reluctantly when she dropped the fruit wedge onto a napkin. Wiping her fingers, she regarded me for a moment, and said, "You seem different."

"I took a nap," I explained, sipping more Blackberry. "First one in ages. I know most people don't nap anymore now that they aren't little kids, but honestly, I can't see why we should ever stop. It has such a positive effect."

"Clearly," remarked Lily dryly, and Aubrey giggled.

I shot her a look of betrayal, then grudgingly smiled back, before tapping the surface of the table decisively. "Okay, look, I don't know about you two, but since it's on James' dime and we've got quite a few hours ahead of us, I plan to enjoy myself with great vigour and merriment. So here's my proposition—a truce, just for tonight, where nobody is nasty or a bitch to anyone else, unless it's all in good fun. Agreed?"

Aubrey smiled and nodded a bit puzzledly, as if she had no idea why she should have reason to be a bitch to anybody. Lily studied me a moment with an expression of consideration. Then she shrugged and said, "Might as well."

"I'm beside myself with joy and elation," I stated, matching her indifferent tone. "Now, who wants chips, because I missed dinner and I am starving."

I half-stood to signal to Rosmerta that her services were needed, and was surprised to hear Lily snicker in response to my words.

"What're you sniggering about?" I demanded, when Rosmerta said that she'd be back in a mo' with my chips. "I thought we weren't going to be nasty to each other tonight? Sniggering very often indicates a nasty thought passing through one's mind."

"Well, not nasty in the sense you mean," Lily amended, green eyes glittering with sardonic amusement.

Intrigued, my brows rose. "Sharing is caring," I reminded her.

"It's just that you did indeed miss dinner, and practically half the school knows why."

Aubrey blurted suddenly, "I heard a rumour." And then immediately turned fuchsia.

"Already?" I sighed, leaning back in my booth, and tipped back my glass to swallow the last mouthful, the ice chinking pleasantly. I opened my lips wide enough to let one ice-cube slip past, then set my glass down, crunching pensively. "Didn't take very long at all, did it?"

"It never does," Aubrey commented quietly.

I cast her a curious glance, but her gaze was fixed on the surface of the table and I turned back instead to Lily, choosing to leave it alone. "What're they saying, then?"

"Only that you and Black are a couple now, since somebody spotted you… er… how did you put it? Enjoying yourselves with great vigour and merriment, quite obliviously and up against the wall in a third-floor corridor."

Aubrey choked on her drink. I'd wondered who would be the first.

"Arms up. Good girl," I said, patting her soothingly on the back, and then to Lily, "We, er, got side-tracked on the way upstairs. It was just snogging, anyway, maybe a bit on the heavy side… what we did in the open was just snogging, anyway." I shrugged.

"So… so are y-you a couple, then?" croaked Aubrey, coughing a bit, eyes streaming, and going red in the face for once not due to over-active capillaries.

"I… suppose," I replied, slowly. "It's sort of complicated."

Lily nodded knowingly, and I was relieved that neither asked me to elaborate, because I didn't really want to reveal the fact that my only assurance that what I had with Sirius was even official, was that I'd agreed in written word to sit in his lap, and allowed him to be my Armchair.

My brows drew together. I really had to have a talk with Sirius, I realized abruptly. A proper one, without snogging to distract us. I might have to tie him down to manage that, but manage it I would.

"So, if you don't mind my asking, did he think giving up his precious pasta was worth it?" Lily inquired conversationally.

I knew exactly what she was talking about (I hardly needed to ask, being painfully aware of how I'd broadcast the fact to practically half of Gryffindor table) and I felt my face grow a bit warm at the memory of just what Sirius had thought of giving up said pasta. As I seemed to recall, after he'd got done promising me the moon and the stars in between all the bloody sexy noises he was making, he informed me—with considerable difficulty—that he adored the fucking ground I walked on.

His speech became somewhat obscene when in the throes of ecstasy, I'd noticed. It was kind of hot. Anyway, I supposed it was the thought that counted (though I was forced to admit that very little cohesive thought actually passed through a bloke's mind when he was in such a position.)

"I don't think he minded," I answered at last, vaguely. "He'll probably raid either the kitchens or my and Remus' chocolate stashes, anyway—he's hardly in danger of starving."

At the mention of chocolate, my stomach rumbled embarrassingly loud, but luckily Rosmerta arrived a moment later with my plate of chips and all the required accoutrements, as well as a refill of my drink.

Ah, the woman knew me so well, reading my every whim and want.

Oh crap. That meant she really was my bar-keep confidante. I considered momentarily that maybe I had a bit of a problem on my hands, but then decided, "Enh."

"Ta," I said gratefully to her back, then poured ketchup and vinegar in equal copious amounts onto the fried potatoes, and tucked in.

"That is disgusting," Lily said, gazing at my food in horrified astonishment.

I blinked and asked thickly through a mouthful of chips, "What?"

"How can you desecrate perfectly good potatoes with all that… that…"

It looked as though Lily Evans, Mistress of the Spoken Word, was at a bit of a loss.

"… blech!" She gave a dramatic sort of shudder.

Ah, there it was.

I swallowed. "Indeed. Anyway, this is the only way to eat them. Try one, I swear, they're amazing."

Both girls peered dubiously into my plate, then hesitantly went picking and searching for a chip that was as blech-free as possible.

I leaned back, taking a sip of my drink as I watched their faces with amusement when they finally each popped one into their mouths.

Aubrey's eyes began to water, and she appeared to be quite close to gagging, but gulped down gamely and squeaked, "S'good."

Lily, on the other hand, chewed contemplatively for a moment, really savouring the flavour, taking her time in making a decision. She swallowed, dabbed daintily at the corner of her lip with a napkin, then dropped the crumpled napkin on the table and declared, "That was the most horrendously foul thing I've ever tasted."

I scowled. "It's delicious and I refuse to let you ruin this for me while I enjoy my nutritious snack. So please shut up."

"Your taste buds are defective," Lily informed me, probably truthfully—what the hell part of me wasn't just a little bit screwed up?

I shrugged, searching calmly for my next victim on my plate. "Maybe. But bringing it up wasn't very nice of you. How do you know it isn't a sensitive issue? My feelings might be hurt."

"I doubt it," she replied derisively—then seemed to deflate all of the sudden. "I'm sorry, that was borderline nasty, wasn't it? I just… sorry."

"Oh." I stared at her. I honestly hadn't even thought about it like that—this was my idea of witty banter. But I had a feeling it wouldn't be everyday I'd get a heartfelt apology out of Lily Evans, and so I smiled a bit quizzically and said, "Er… you're forgiven."

She returned the smile, then finished the last of her butterbeer. "Good. Now, I think I'm ready for something a bit stronger. And since Potter is so graciously paying our way…" She moved her shoulders expressively, as if to say, "Who am I to argue?" Then her smile turned feline and she wondered aloud, "Do you think he'll be pleased to hear our first date is going so well?"

"Hmm. Maybe a bit more if he'd actually been here, but what can you do? Now Lily, Aubrey—I'm ordering your next drinks for you, so what d'you say—feeling brave?"

To my immense surprise, I realized sometime around ten o'clock that I was really and truly enjoying myself. Almost, I thought, more than I'd have done if I was with the lads.

I could only assume that they'd gotten well underway the second stage of Operation: Snape is a Stupid Tit (three guesses who came up with that one—and no, it wasn't me.) I could only assume, and I wished them lots of luck. In the meantime, I had better things to think about (even though I was supposed to be on my own decoy mission, which was going swimmingly, if I did say so myself—and I didn't, but if I did, that's what I would say.)

I raised my glass of our sixth round (well, my sixth, their fifth) and toasted cheerfully, "To wonderful, infuriating, sexy, darling blokes who fancy you from afar and then give you explosive and unbelievable sex without you even having to ask."

"I'll drink t'that," Aubrey said with equal amounts of cheer (though keep in mind she'd been saying the very same thing for the past half-hour or so), and did.

"I think you're on your last one, there, sweet," I warned her, feeling pleasantly light-headed myself, and at that happy medium stage of pissed where you're not yet slurring your words (much), but you show an overt amount of affection to make up for it.

I was probably about done as well, anyway—it wasn't my aim to get fall-down drunk, and besides, I didn't put much store in either girl's ability to carry me back to the castle. Not that I wasn't confident they were strong enough (Lily was about two inches taller than me, and Aubrey looked spindly, but I knew from experience by holding her hand during some of the tenser moments of the Quidditch match yesterday, the girl had a grip on her.) I just felt they might have lacked the… er… coordination needed to keep someone else upright, when they were having quite enough trouble standing up themselves (I knew, because on a trip to the loo they managed to get out of their seats okay, but then ended up veering right into one of the potted plants Rosmerta kept.)

Safely seated back at the table, though, both Lily and Aubrey were grinning blissfully. The latter was undoubtedly the farthest gone out of all of us, despite having had to drink the least, though I supposed tolerance had to count for something. She was most definitely coming along nicely, however.

Jesus. I really was a terrible influence, wasn't I?

I felt the first stirrings of guilt, but then was sufficiently distracted when Lily suddenly ducked under the table, disappearing beneath it. I at first thought she was about to be violently sick all over my shoes, but after a few muffled curses and what I thought might be her accidentally cracking the top of her head on the underside of the table, she surfaced again, on our side of the booth this time, poking her head up from between my and Aubrey's right and left legs, respectively.

"Shove over," Lily ordered, squirming her way from underneath the table and onto the bench with us.

I obliged, getting as close to the wall as I could, while Aubrey shifted to the edge of the seat, and there was just enough room for the three of us to sit cosily together on one side of the tiny booth.

"I was feeling left out," Lily informed us, then promptly kissed my cheek, and laid her head on Aubrey's shoulder. Aubrey, in turn, promptly fell out of her seat.

Amidst the shrieking laughter that ensued, I gratefully accepted the help of a pair of rather dishy blokes from a table diagonal to us for gallantly lifting her to her feet, then getting her more securely settled in the booth by giving her my seat against the wall. I switched places with her, having a bit more control over my corporal faculties, and favoured them with a grin.

"Cheers," I said, nudging Lily over a bit so both arse-cheeks were actually touching the seat.

"No problem," the blond one said, waggling his eyebrows, and abruptly I could have sworn I'd seen him before. "You're from up at the school, are you?"

Ah, that explained it. He couldn't have been in my house, as he looked only vaguely familiar, but it was indeed very likely he and his mate went to Hogwarts.

"Yeah, our last year," I replied, staring in fascination at his eyebrows. I couldn't fathom the sort of muscle mastery required for such a talent. I certainly couldn't control mine that well, not beyond raising one now and again. I wondered what sorts of exercises were necessary to develop said talent.

Oh, sod it. More exercise. I was becoming a fanatic. I'd start caring about my health soon if I wasn't careful.

"Hang on, you're the Head Girl," the dark one exclaimed, gaping at Lily with a spreading grin of wicked glee. "And you're snookered!"

Which, incidentally, isn't the best word to say to a snookered person.

Lily burst out laughing, shoulders trembling as she collapsed forward onto the table to cackle helplessly into her forearms. Although, I could have sworn I heard her say, between giggles, something that sounded suspiciously like, "Five points from Slytherin."

"Er… right." I waved a hand at the boys in what I hoped was an imperious manner, doing my best impression of McGonagall. "Thank you for your assistance. You may go now."

The dark boy glanced in amusement over his shoulder at Lily—who was now wiping her streaming eyes and draping herself over my shoulder, still snickering softly—one last time, but he and his blond companion did return to their table without protest, lips twitching irresistibly.

Lily, the dear, got even more demonstrative and tactile while hammered than I did. It was sort of endearing, actually, in a distantly amusing way. I didn't want to think of the hangovers the two of them would be the proud owners of come tomorrow morning, however.

Mindful of this, and feeling a bit guilty that I'd practically gotten them this way, I ordered a round of gillywater for us all.

"This'll help for tomorrow morning, keep you properly hydrated," I told them, taking a swallow of the oddly tangy liquid myself.

"Tomorrow morning?" Aubrey asked with genuine innocence—was there any other kind with her?

Ah, well. They do say the good die young (though what this had to do with it, I wasn't sure.) I just knew some things were better learned firsthand.

"Never mind," I told her. "Just drink your gillywater, and if you have a bit of a headache tomorrow, come find me and I'll have something more for you that'll help."

"I love you, Tia Spencer," Lily informed me warmly, now rubbing her cheek against my arm like a cat (only with a real cat, it would be its arse, and my face. God, I hated my mum's Siamese, Po Xing. Bloody horny fur-ball. And he only ever came to me when I was sleeping and he decided it would be a spiffing idea to sit on my oxygen-providing air-hole, or else when he was feeling a bit peckish—for human flesh.)

"Do you really? That's very nice of you, Po Xi—er, I mean Lily."

"I really, really, really do," she confirmed, with marked vehemence. "I know I can be a bit of a cow sometimes, but that's only because you piss me off a lot. Deep down, I actually love you a lot."

"Maybe we should run away together to the Cayman Islands," I suggested. "I think Jamesy'd get a kick out of that. Or he'd just try to kick me. Whichever."

"Nope, too sunny," she shook her head, shooting down that idea almost immediately. "Think of my complexion. Think of the freckles."

I tapped my lips meditatively, thinking about the freckles quite hard.

Ooh. Dirty. Hee! Oh my God, I needed more gillywater if I was going to be walking home under my own steam.

"What about Spain? It's sunny there, too, but lots more places to find shade. And the shopping. And the Spanish people. Maybe we'll meet Zorro."

"Isn't he Mexthi—Methk—from Central America?" Aubrey asked, blinking slowly and repeatedly like an interested goldfish. Her mouth was even a bit open in her confusion, like an "o." Not covered in orange scales, obviously. "Isn't he? Tia? I think he is."

I really did not know. And I suddenly realized what a ruddy shame that was. I decided the minute I could see straight again, I was finding an atlas to look it up (though the chances of an atlas having a little footnote saying, "Herein lies the Masked Swordsman's birthplace" were probably not very good.)

"Spain sounds fine," Lily said serenely. "As long as Aubrey comes along."

"Threesome. Kinky. I could do that. Though I warn you, you'd be taking terrible advantage of me, because… did you know, I think I might be a little bit tipsy?" I yawned, then picked up Aubrey's new lemon and squirted it absently over my head, the fresh-smelling droplets spraying my hair.

"Ll'your hair be nice an' shiny now?" Aubrey wondered, slurring her words worse than usual.

"Yethck," I said thickly, speaking through the lemon wedge I was now sucking contemplatively on. It wasn't quite as sour as I'd expected. Considerate lemon.

"Oh," Aubrey gazed quite intently at Lily's untouched glass of gillywater, which still had the lemon intact. Solemnly and without a word, she reached over, lifted it with the extreme care only the very drunk can manage, and silently dumped it on her head.

I blinked across a quietly humming Lily at Aubrey's now dripping-wet self, my lemon wedge still gormlessly in place in front of my teeth, and decided, perhaps a bit late in the running, that it was time to go back to Hogwarts.