Chapter Eighteen: The Christmas Ball, Marauder style
It was a literally magical evening. The Great Hall had been decked with holly laden with red berries, and a huge, glittering Christmas tree took up each corner of the vast room. Enchanted snow fell from the ceiling, disappearing before it reached the floor, and the ceiling itself showed a clear dark sky dotted with stars. The five long tables had vanished, making room for lots of smaller, circular tables, which seated ten. This was convenient for the Marauders and their friends, as there were eight in the group, plus Remus' date Emily, and Marley Branson, whom Sirius took care to sit far away from.
When the meal was over, the tables were moved to the walls by a sweep of Professor Dumbledore's wand, and the floor was clear for dancing. The music and dancing went on for hours, and both Remus and James managed to get a turn with Lily. It was an achievement for either of them to tear her away from Sirius, who threatened to send them to "the boys", only half-jokingly. Everyone avoided Peter and Adriana, preferring to leave the couple to their own devices on the dance floor. Marley Branson was very protective of Bethan, but she was able to spend some time with her friends whilst he was messing around with his own pals from Ravenclaw.
Towards the end of the evening, Sirius and Lily came off the dance floor, exhausted after a very upbeat song. James, sitting at their table, jumped up and grabbed her hands.
"No, James, can't you see how tired I am?" she laughed, pulling her hands away and sweeping her hair off her shining face.
"Oh, come on, it's Christmas!" he protested, and succeeded in dragging her onto the floor again.
Sirius collapsed next to Bethan, who was laughing as she watched Marley dance energetically with his fellow seventh years. He sighed, seeing how happy she was, and took a sip of James' pumpkin juice. This party needs real drink, he thought, as he watched Bethan watching her boyfriend.
Feeling his eyes on her, she looked round, a smile on her face. "You alright, Sirius?" she asked.
"Yeah, just tired," he answered, and took another gulp of juice. Ask her, just ask. "Do you want to dance?"
"I thought you were tired?"
"I'm sure I can muster up some energy for my favourite girl," he grinned, taking her wrist as they stood.
Just then Marley came over, having spotted someone else talking to Bethan. He glared at Sirius, daring him to try anything with him around. He turned to Bethan, who, adjusting her dark hair, had missed the angry glares.
"Wanna spin?" he asked, his hands on her waist.
"Hell yeah," she giggled, forgetting Sirius as they joined the dancing crowd.
Sirius sank back down, took his gangster hat off and loosened his tie. James and Lily came off the floor, and Remus, whose date was dancing with her friends, quickly snapped up Lily again. James sat next to Sirius, noticing his friend's glum face.
"What's up, Padfoot?"
"That Branson guy," he answered bitterly. "I was just about to dance with Bethan and he snatched her off me." He glared out at the couple; they were laughing as they spun around.
"Well, she is his girlfriend," James said reasonably, reaching for his drink.
"I wasn't gonna marry her or anything," Sirius grumbled. "He's obviously intimidated by me, if he feels the need to drag her away after I've been talking to her for a second."
"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that," James grinned, then looked in his goblet, puzzled. "Padfoot, have you been stealing my pumpkin juice?"
The song stopped and a much slower one started up. The various couples slowed down with it, wrapping their arms around each other. Sirius, still watching Bethan, tore his eyes away and noticed Remus and Lily, practically moulded into one being. He worriedly glanced at James, who hadn't seen them.
"Oh – yeah, sorry, Prongs," he said quickly. "What d'you say we get some real drink, anyway; I think this party's just about finished."
"That sounds good," James agreed. The two friends ambled from the hall amid the loud music and revelry, still looking cool in their suits and attracting many a female glance. Up in the common room, Sirius dragged his trunk from under his bed and searched through it.
"I have a Christmas present for you, Prongs," he said. "I thought I'd give it to you early, as this seems the opportune moment to use it." He pulled out a huge bottle of Firewhiskey, and James' face lit up.
"Wow, Sirius, you legend, that's amazing!" he declared, inspecting the bottle.
"I'm glad you think so," Sirius smiled as he replaced his trunk and took out his broom. "Now, I think we should take it for a little midnight Quidditch practice, what d'you say?"
"That sounds like the most brilliant plan I've heard in a long time." James got out his own Silver Arrow, and they went down together to the Entrance Hall. The ball was still going on inside the Great Hall, and for once no one noticed the two Marauders, one in white and one in black, as they slipped out into the gloom.
They didn't play much Quidditch as it turned out, but sat in the stands taking swigs from the whisky bottle and talking about Bethan and Lily. Sirius was tempted at one point to tell James about Remus and Lily, so that they could both be miserable, but he persuaded himself not to, and blamed it on the drink.
James was ranting about Bethan. "I don't know why she's going out with that meatball over you, Padfoot," he slurred, "Sure, most of the girls seem to lust over him, but I would've thought she'd have more loyalty than that."
Sirius listened, frowning. "Loyalty?" he asked.
"Yes, loyalty!" James swung the bottle in his hand. Sirius grabbed it before any spilled. "That's what it's about – loyalty! That Branston – I mean Branson, I mean - nearly murdered you out here, and she jumps at the chance to get off with him. That's why she's not a Marauder. Marauders are loyal, Padfoot."
A while later the bottle was nearly empty and they had got shakily onto their brooms and were zooming slowly around the pitch, shouting and laughing and daring each other to go faster, or do loop-the-loops. James carried the whisky with him, and whenever they passed each other Sirius would try desperately to snatch it off him. He failed every time and almost fell off his broom more often than not, to James' intense amusement.
"I don't know why you're – hic – laughing, mate," Sirius called as he whooshed unsteadily away towards the goalposts. "You could be my falldown. If I plummeted to my untimely death it would your fault, and no one would forgive you."
"You would die an alcoholic," James declared, taking a huge gulp and waving the bottle out to Sirius, tantalizingly out of reach.
Sirius sailed back round, making another ill-advised grab for the whisky and turning right over in the air. "Oh, why do you mock me?" he wailed in despair, his long hair standing on end as he hung upside down, knuckles white from gripping tightly to the broom. Feeling sick with the blood and alcohol rushing to his head, he gave an almighty tug with his arms and swung himself back upright, and slowly drifted to the ground, where he collapsed on the wet grass, white and hard from the snow.
Looking up, he saw James far above him, juggling the bottle from one hand to the other. He's so gonna drop that, Sirius thought to himself, and sure enough, it fell from his grip and plummeted to earth. James, an expression of terror on his face, sped after it and caught it just before it smashed to the ground. He landed easily next to Sirius and finally handed the drink to him, boasting, "That's why I'm the greatest seeker Gryffindor has known."
Sirius ignored him and drained the last dregs, leaning back until he was lying on the snow-covered grass. "Whishky'sh finished," he slurred, and fell asleep. James picked up the bottle, turning it upside down and shaking it to check nothing was left.
Sirius opened his eyes groggily and looked around, carefully turning his head for minimal movement. He was still on the ground in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, which had soaked his white rented shirt, resulting in him feeling chilled to the bone. He rose slowly, and was surprised and pleased by the lack of dizziness and agony. James was nowhere to be seen, but Sirius' eyes were drawn to magical words traced in the air by wand, reading, "Gone to get more whisky, Prongs".
Sirius went to the stands where he'd left his black jacket and hat. The jacket was cold but he snuggled into it gratefully, trying to create some warmth by rubbing his arms. He put the hat on, out of pure love for the garment, and meandered back to the castle to see what had become of James. On the way he saw a solitary figure sitting by the lake, and, forgetting James, went to investigate.