With a Little Help from My Friends ~ by Lucy Lupin

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Disclaimer: "Eight Days a Week" and "A Hard Day's Night" are owned by the Beatles, as is the chapter title. I'm just borrowing them for my sick, twisted mind.

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Chapter Six: Twist and Shout

One day later Thierry was walking back to the boys' dorms from the common room, a broad grin from his face. As promised he had just put up the list of this year's Quidditch team and was halfway up the stairs when he heard Holly Wood's shriek, no doubt after discovering that she was one of the chosen few. At the top of the page he had included a thank you to everyone who had tried out and the girls who had volunteered to sew uniforms for the new players. Lucille, surprisingly, had been one of these. The rest of the notice went like this:

KEEPER: Veronica Vector

BEATERS: Molly Morag, Belmaine Burnett

CHASERS: Thierry Delacour, Holly Wood, Winston Shacklebolt

SEEKER: Herbie Jordan

ALTERNATES: Toby Abbot (B), Rhiannon Morag (C), Cameron Bell (K), Dedalus Diggle (S)

He was largely satisfied with the final team. With her height and quick reflexes Veronica was the ideal Keeper. Molly wasn't as experienced on a broom as he would like, but she had a powerful arm and was learning quickly. Belmaine would bring her up to speed soon enough. Fourth year Holly Wood flew more gracefully than most birds and her quickness and small size made her the ideal candidate for a Chaser's position. He had almost considered making her Seeker, but she had an unfortunate tendency to shy away from challenges in the air. Herbie Jordan was as small and quick as Holly and had a feistiness that the girl lacked. Kingsley Shacklebolt was an experienced fifth year that Thierry was considering for the captaincy next year. He wasn't as quick as he would like, but made up for his lack of speed with his foresight and intelligent play under pressure.

Given the inexperience of the team, Thierry had also added a reserve team, one student for each position. Toby Abbot was a burly second year whose older brother played for Hufflepuff. Molly's younger sister, Rhiannon, he suspected had tried out more to catch Herbie's eye than anything else, but nevertheless she was decent flier and had potential. Cameron Bell was also a decent student to have on the bench, but he had accepted reserve Seeker Dedalus Diggle more out of pity than anything else. This was the third year he had tried out, and figuring he could use Holly as a replacement if anything happened to Herbie, Thierry hadn't seem the harm in having him on the team. Which wasn't to say the new Gryffindor captain hadn't given him a stern talking-to and told him that unless things improved and improved quickly, he wouldn't be seeing so much as a blade of grass, let alone flying out into the stadium as one of the team come match day.

Arthur was sitting on his bed twirling some strange silver thing about the size of a wand into the side of Lucille's record player. "Who made it?" he asked when Thierry entered.

"Jordan ees ze new Seeker," Thierry told him, pulling off his Quidditch boots and flopping onto the bed. "Shacklebolt an' Burnett are still on ze team from last year. Veronica ees our Keeper, Molly ees ze second Beater an' 'Olly makes up our troisieme Chaser. Ow ees ze record player comin' along?"

"Good," Arthur beamed. "Listen to this." He removed the silver thing, which had a narrow, pointed end and slid one of Lucille's records out of its case, then put it on the record player and dropped the needle onto it. There was a few seconds of crackling electricity, then a singer's voice filled the room.

It's been a hard day's night

And I've been working like a dog

It's been a hard day's night

I should be sleeping like a log

But when I get home to you

I find the things that you do

Will make me feel alright

"Eet ees vair good zat oo got zat playing," Thierry told Arthur as the redhead beamed happily on his head, "parce que tomorrow morning, yer weel be strippin' devant tout les Gryffondors."

"What?" Arthur barked.

There was the sound of footsteps running up the stairs, then Lucille burst into the room. "I thought I heard music downstairs! You've got it working!" she exclaimed, then stopped at the look on Arthur's face. "You told him. Okay, I think I'm going to leave now." She backed out the room and shut the door securely behind her.

"Now Arthur, calm down," Thierry told him, backing away slightly. "I can explain all zis."

"You better!" Arthur snapped. "I'm absolutely dying to know why it's so essential for me to strip down to nothing in front of the entire house tomorrow morning!"

"Weel, pour un commencement, eet will not be down to yer notheengs," Thierry corrected him. As he had hoped, Arthur looked slightly relieved. After reassuring the man that he wouldn't be entirely naked, anything he would have to say wouldn't sound so bad. "An' eet weel not be en front of ze entire 'ouse. Belmaine, Cameron et les autres seexth an' sevonth year boys weel be scarin' ze youngaire ones avay."

"And while I'm humiliating myself in front of the - well, the senior students - what will you be doing?" Arthur inquired icily. "And what about Diana? I don't think she'd exactly enjoy the show."

Yer nevair know, Thierry thought to himself. Aloud he said, "Eet ees fonny zat yer mention me an' Diana dans ze same sentence. See, I 'ave special plans pour Diana zat weel keep 'er out of ze way."

"Why does something about that warn me not to ask further?" Arthur grimaced.

Thierry grinned lecherously. "Ze reason why yer need ter do zis ees because eef yer do not stick ter what Molly said on ze train, eet weel look suspicious an' yer weel get 'er, an' yerself, into trouble. Also, yer owe Molly. Eef yer 'ad not decided ter show off an' fly so close ter ze 'Ogwarts Express joost zen, she wouldn't 'ave 'ad ter flash Diana an' embarrass 'erself like zat. And ze boys 'ave somehow finded out what she deed, because of Longbottom I think. Zey 'ave been making fun of 'er een class sometimes. Lucille told me. So at least now yer weel give people sometheeng else ter talk about."

"Yes, that's true," Arthur mused. "I feel terrible that boys are saying bad things about poor Molly. When you put it that way, of course I'll do it. Now if you'll excuse me, Diana and I have a few problems with the tutorial list that we need to sort out." He rose to his feet and left the room.

Moments later there was a knock at the door. Thierry looked up, expecting Lucille to reappear. What he saw was Veronica who, like him, was still in her Quidditch robes. For some reason he felt disappointed. "Saw the list just now," she said. "Thanks. Hey, I just saw Arthur leave. Did it work?"

"Like a charm," Thierry smirked, lying back on the bed with his head cushioned on his arms.

"That was devious," Veronica said, looking not the least bit sorry.

"Eet was," Thierry agreed. "I would say zat we should both be een Slytherin, mais-" his eyes wondered over to the Mary Quant advertisement, which was now stuck on the wall next to his bed "-I like Muggales too much, especialement ze women!"

* * * * *

As usual on the day of the first trip to Hogsmeade, the next morning Gryffindor was humming. The unusual thing was that the excitement had nothing to do whatsoever with the first trip to Hogsmeade. And the reason for this excitement was currently in his bedroom getting - at Thierry's suggestion - rolling drunk.

"Wales," Thierry said.

"Sweden," Arthur responded.

"We 'ave already 'ad Sweden," Thierry pointed out. "Zat's one mouthful."

Arthur groaned and titled back his head, putting the bottle of Firewhiskey Thierry had passed over to him to his lips and trying to swallow quickly before the hot, bitter taste fully hit him. "Zhou pick on sthen," he slurred.

"Senegal," Thierry replied. "Which would leave yer weeth ze letter "L"." Arthur had indeed reached the stage where he needed things like that pointed out to him.

"Lebanon," Arthur said presently.

"Vair good," Thierry told him, "mais yer 'ave already run out of time. Zats anodaire mouthfull."

"Zhor evil," Arthur said, but complied.

"Yer know what?" Thierry asked. "I can't theenk of one weeth a "L" eithair." He took the bottle back off Arthur and tipped some of the Firewhiskey into his mouth. "Why don' yer pick one now?"

"Why shar zhou drinking?" Arthur asked. "Greece."

"Parce que j'ai besoin a drink for what I am about ter do," Thierry grimaced. "Scotland."

"Ohi forgot. Diana," Arthur said. "Zhang on, Shotland doeshint begin zwith a Zhee."

"An "E," yer mean," Thierry said, fully aware of his drunkiness. Molly had come in an hour early and, seeing the full bottle of Firewhiskey on Thierry's desk, walked out again, clucking disapprovingly. "Eet doesn't eef yer say eet een English. Mais eef yer say eet een French, eet ees Ecosse, which does begin weeth an "E"."

"So we're ashepting foreign slanguages shnow?" Arthur demanded. "Zho never zhold me."

"Weel, 'ow many foreign languages do yer speak?" Thierry asked him.

"Zhnone," Arthur conceded. He would have looked sheepish if he wasn't so drunk.

"My point exactement. Yer 'ave notheeng ter complain about. An' I am steel waiting for sometheeng beginnin' weeth ze letter "E"."

"Zheengland," Arthur said stoutly.

"Yer 'ave said England trois fois already. Zats anodaire swallow."

"I think he's had enough, Thierry." Molly was in the doorway, staring down angrily at where Thierry was sprawled out on the bedroom floor. "And don't you have to distract Diana somehow?"

"Ah yes," Thierry said, the good humour fading from his eyes. "Good luck, Arthur." He got to his feet and went downstairs.

Arthur yawned and sluggishly rolled over so he could see Molly better. His eyes widened. All she was from his angle, standing above and over him, was legs and, well, those. "Zhou look hot," he told her.

"No, in this dress I'm actually quite cool," Molly told him, giving him a puzzled look. "In fact, I think I'll put a cardigan on later. What are you on about?"

"Nushing," Arthur said. Through his drunken haze he realised she had misunderstood him. Perhaps it was for the best. "Zhey, Molly, can zhou do me sha favour? Can zhou hold my zschool robes anch throw shem on right shafter I'm done? Zhierray was shoing to sho it, but he shees he's busy, shand I shon't trust Veronica shand Lucille."

"I don't blame you," Molly said. "Of course I'll hold your robe for you." She had considered closing her eyes during Arthur's performance, more to spare the poor man than anything else, and now she wouldn't be able to. Well, she couldn't really say no, not when he was looking at her with those pleading - although now rather glazed - dark blue eyes. "I'm going downstairs then. Everyone's waiting. Good luck, Arthur." She didn't know him as well as her other friends and couldn't really think of anything else to say.

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In the seventh year girls' dorm Diana McGonagall was pursing her lips in poorly-concealed exasperation. The common room crowd were getting far too rowdy. How they expected anyone to do work in all this racket, honestly! And with OWLs and NEWTs coming up for many of them, well, didn't they have any sense of resposibility? A decision made, she rose to her feet and walked towards the doorway.

As she grasped the handle the door swung open, her guest's much-stronger pull making her lose her balance and tumble into his arms. She looked up to see Thierry Delacour, that infernal Quidditch captain, beaming down at her. Only now she didn't think of him as being so annoying. In fact, she was starting to realise that he was rather, well, sexy.

"Allo, cherie," the Frenchman grinned. "I was een ze common room thinkin' ter myself, isn't eet a shame zat I am going ter graduate zis year, an' I still do not know tout le sevonth years? An' zen I thought, "Diana McGonagall! Now, zere ees a woman I should really get ter know bettaire better I go!""

"Really?" Diana stammered. "W-Who would have thought?" Dimly she could feel a trail of sweat trickling down from the nape of her neck. Why had she not noticed his smile before? And the way his eyes bore through her like twin black coals, how had those escaped her notice?

"An' so I thought, "What can I do ter know Diana bettaire?" An' zen I thought some more, an' I came up avec sometheeng zat joost ze two of us can do zat weel bring us closaire togethaire," Thierry continued. "May I come in?"

Dumbfounded, Diana backed away from the doorway and followed him into the room. I'd pinch myself, she thought, but if I'm dreaming, I don't want to wake up!

* * * * *

"Must we sit so close to the front?" Lucille whined.

"Arthur's going to be nervous," Veronica told her, adjusting her legs as they were starting to fall asleep beneath her. The two of them, along with most of the older students in their house, had been waiting for a good fifteen minutes for the head boy to appear. "He'll need our support. We have to be at the front so he can see us."

"I think he'd rather we hadn't come," Lucille said stubbornly. "Say, Ronnie, have you seen Zachary yet today? He promised he'd let me look at his Arithmancy essay before he went to Hogsmeade." Professor McGonagall, a relatively young witch who was Diana's aunt, was being even more stringent that usual this year.

"I have no idea where he is," Veronica said. "Sorry." The truth was now that Assassins had started, she had become too paranoid to venture far beyond the seventh year girls' dorms and was avoiding the sixth year prefect like a bad case of Trollpox. Arthur and Diana had both shown her who they were after, but for all she knew, there could be a Veronica Vector emblazoned on Zachary's parchment. House loyalty wasn't worth much these days and she wasn't about to take any chances.

A warm body squeezed itself in between herself and Lucille, and Veronica looked down to see Herbie Jordan sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Looking forward to seeing Arthur naked?" Veronica grinned.

"Hell, no," Gryffindor's newly-anointed Seeker responded with a grimace. "I just want to see if he goes through with it, that's all. I've got money staked on it with Belmaine Burnett. Bel says he won't, but I think Arthur has bigger balls than that. In a manner of speaking, that is."

Lucille made a disapproving sound. For a third year Herbie was blessed with a rather remarkable potty mouth. Veronica, however, laughed. "In a few minutes you'll be able to find out for sure," she said.

"You two are revolting," Lucille piped up. "Herbie, you're far too young for that kind of talk and Veronica, you're a prefect. I have to find some friends that don't talk about that kind of stuff all the time."

"Unfortunately you weren't sorted into Hufflepuff," Herbie told her.

"Unfortunately?" Lucille repeated, her voice rising in irritation. "What do you mean by that? I'll have you know I don't lose half as many points from our house as you-"

"Sh, someone's coming down the stairs," Veronica hissed. An upbeat song had started up and Arthur burst into the room to tumultuous applause, his hands clenched above his head heavyweight champion style. Swaying in a way that suggested the Firewhiskey he'd confiscated from a group of Ravenclaws had not gone straight to the Headmaster's office, he did a circuit of the area in front of the crowd and began to sing.

Oh I need your love, babe

Guess you know it's true

Hope you need my love, babe

Just like I need you

Hold me

Love me

Hold me

Love me

I ain't got nothing but love, babe

Eight days a week

Arthur had a fine voice, but its effect was damaged from his alcohol-induced slurring and the muffling effect tugging his clothes up over his head had on it. Not that the Gryffindor gang appeared to have noticed. They were clapping along to the beat and cheering as if the Familiars had Apparated into the common room for an exclusive performance.

Love you ev'ry day, girl

Always on my mind

One thing I can say, girl

Love you all the time

Hold me

Love me

Hold me

Love me

I ain't got nothing but love, babe

Eight days a week

Eight days a week

I lo-ov-ov-ov-ove you

Eight days a week

Is not enough to show I care

At the last "Hold me" Arthur had got the last of his upper body clothing off and was strutting along bare-chested to the cheers of his housemates. Far from looking nervous he was grinning broadly. Veronica wondered exactly how many shots, if not bottles, or Firewhiskey he and Thierry had consumed before the head boy had made an appearance.

Oh I need your love, babe

Guess you know it's true

Hope you need my love, babe

Just like I need you

Arthur had kicked off his shoes and was beginning to unbuckle his belt. Lucille had collapsed against Veronica and was giggling hysterically. Veronica forced herself to look past Arthur at Molly who was frozen in the doorway, her face crimson in embarrassment.

Oh, hold me

Love me

Hold me

Love me

I ain't got nothing but love, babe

Eight days a week

With a flourish Arthur had whipped his belt off and whirled it around above his head a few times before throwing it across the room at third year Bertha Jonkins, who screamed as if she had caught Paul McCartney's shirt at a concert. Next to Lucille, Herbie Jordan had buried his head in his hands and was shaking his head, with the older girl patting him consolingly on the shoulder. Arthur started unbuttoning his trousers.

Eight days a week

I lo-ov-ov-ov-ove you

Eight days a week

Is not enough to show I care

Tugging off his trouser leg and struggling to keep his balance with a lack of sobriety, Arthur had finally discarded all but his Jockeys. The trousers joined the belt at the back of the room, where two fifth year girls immediately started a tug of war over them. Veronica could not remember laughing so hard in her life.

Love you ev'ry day, girl

Always on my mind

One thing I can say, girl

Love you all the time

Hold me

Love me

Hold me

Love me

I ain't got nothing but love, babe

Eight days a week

Eight days a week

Eight days a week

The Gryffindor crowd applauded. Arthur dipped into a bow which turned into a half-run as he struggled against the Firewhiskey in his system to maintain his balance. More than a few wolf-whistles were issuing forward from the end of the room. But the man in question was not quite done yet. Intoxicated as by the cheers and adulation of his housemates than the alcohol pumping through his body, his hands flew to the waistband of his underwear.

A shocked silence fell. Lucille was the first to speak. "Er, Ronnie," she whispered, "wasn't the agreement that he keep his Jockeys on?"

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