Happy New Year lovelies! (Well it's the third, but that's beside the point.)
Time is steadily moving on and we're delving straight into their Sixth Year! Ah I'm so excited, I have a lot of things already planned for this year in the story and I can't wait to share it with you. I know some things are definitely going to be rather...intense, anyway, you'll see.
Please leave a review and let me know what you think ;)
My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Orange and black streamers crisscrossed their way along the ceiling—which instead of a twinkly night sky, there were slate grey clouds that bubbled across the expanse of the ceiling.
Haunting but entrancing music twirled around the wix who span and whirled around each other—a flurry of purples, blacks, and oranges.
The warm, flickering light of the thin, black candles floating above them danced across the skin of the Great Hall's occupants.
This year the Marauders opted to attend the annual Halloween Ball at school, a vast and starch contrast to the prior year: there were no raging parties at unknown Muggle's abodes, there was no snogging of random girls, and there certainly wasn't copious amounts of alcohol to be had—on the surface at least. Sirius was known to a resourceful wizard after all.
The wizard in question was currently nursing a cup of butterbeer—that he'd heavily spiked with Firewhisky—in a corner by himself, standing away from the crowd as he sulked.
A messy haired wizard, dressed smartly in black dress robes approached his pack member, silent for a moment until he followed Sirius's line of sight and discovered what had caused his foul mood. "Stop staring at her, you're supposed to have been the one to break it off remember," Draco said.
"I would if David Miller got his meaty paws off of her," Sirius hissed lowly, lip curling so that his canines were exposed. "He's a Seventh year for fuck's sake."
"He's nice," Draco said thoughtfully as he watched the boy with hazelnut curls twirl Sirius's girlfriend in a circle. Draco bumped Sirius's shoulder with his as he shifted his gaze onto his fellow Marauders who were having a grand time as they whirled around each other with ease.
"I'll shove my nice foot up his arse if he isn't careful," Sirius muttered bitterly, bringing his cup up to his lips and taking several handsome gulps of the liquor.
Draco smirked at that, and he threw an arm around his shoulder, "c'mon, Padfoot, cheer up. When all is said and done, she's still your girl."
"Again, doesn't mean I like just anyone's grubby hands all over her."
Draco rolled his eyes, "hey, I know what'll make you cheer up and stop being a wet blanket, let's dance with that lot." Draco gestured to where Hermione, Remus and James were dancing in the middle of the room with linked arms.
Hermione's head fell back in laughter when James picked her up around her waist and span her around in a circle, her plum coloured dress swirling out behind her.
James put his sister down and loudly gave her a kiss on the cheek, and she ruffled his hair with her gloved hands—she was wearing an intricate pair of black lace gloves that Dorea had gifted her with.
"Fine," Sirius said with a smile, downing the rest of his drink before vanishing it into non-being. "I'm leading though."
"Just keep telling yourself that," Draco snickered, throwing an arm around Sirius's shoulders as they sauntered over to their fellow pack members.
James twirled Hermione into Draco's arms and he smiled as she loosely linked her wrists around his neck, and everything slowed down for brief, fleeting but exquisite moment.
Hermione's face was flushed from all the dancing, her hairline was damp with perspiration and there was a laugh ready to fall from her lips. In that moment everyone else disappeared and it was just the two of them.
Then, Sirius tugged on Draco's arm and ripped him away from Hermione, "oi! Foxy! Stop stealing my dance partner!" Sirius exclaimed with a playful, accusatory grin.
"Whatever, Black!" Hermione sang as Remus took Draco's place, leaning forward to whisper something in her ear that made Hermione laugh gaily.
A pang of jealousy swirled inside Draco's gut, dragging it together painfully. It's fine, they're just best mates. It's Moony, just breathe, Draco told himself, inhaling and exhaling slowly until the knot unravelled itself and dissipated entirely.
Draco centred his attention on Sirius instead, and soon he too was laughing as Sirius led him around in an elaborate dance, which quickly dissolved into Draco, James and Sirius singing exuberantly from the top of their lungs as they danced together in a circle.
The Marauders had a whirl of a time that night, not realising that their Sixth member was gloomily watching them from a ways away—having told Kira (who was his date for the night) he was a bit tired and he wanted to rest. (The Marauders had been trying to bridge the gap with their estranged member, but Peter had been resolute in his avoidance of them for the year thus far.)
Peter wished more than anything that he could bury the darkness that was growing inside of him, and simply go over and join them—but something kept his feet rooted to the ground, something kept him hostage, and he has no idea what it was.
Tuesday, November 2nd, 1976
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Great Hall
Draco felt a smaller hand slip into his and squeeze, and that was how a bleary eyed, yet excited Hermione alerted him of her presence—as if he wasn't already drowning in her heady scent.
They were in the thick of a throng of Sixth Years marching down to the Entrance Hall before they all filtered into the Great Hall: it was bright and early in the morning, and their regularly scheduled classes for the morning were "cancelled" in order to accommodate for the start of their Apparition lessons.
"Aren't you excited, we're learning how to apparate," Hermione whispered cheekily, her hot breath washing across his neck as she tiptoed to be closer to his ear.
"Downright ecstatic—do we pretend we're naturals and endlessly talented or fuck up a little and build our way to a stunning finish," Draco drawled, reluctantly pulling his hand out of hers once they entered the Great Hall.
Hermione tilted her head to the side as she pondered pensively, shrugging as she said, "a stunning finish is always more fun."
"This is true," Draco replied with a slight inclination of his head.
"Good morning Sixth Years!" A voice boomed from the front of the room, and instantaneously all of the students quieted down.
Minerva McGonagall was standing next to a rather short fellow, with a wobbly chin, a crooked nose, a thick head of chestnut curls, and his left hand was gnarled and bent-out-of-shape, yet it firmly held his wand, there was a sturdiness and a firm kindness about him as well.
"This is Phineas Toole, he is an official Ministry Apparition instructor and he shall be providing you with lessons over the next year, those of you who will be seventeen in time shall take the test in June in addition to your other examinations," Minerva announced, slowly striding across the stage with her hands clasped together in front of her.
"For those of you who will not be of age, you will still be required to take these lessons as you will be able to take the test as soon as the next school year resumes."
Minerva's pitch black hair was braided today—the braid brushing the back of her around her mid thighs—and the plait swung back and forth as the witch moved, keeping a stern eye on all of them, as if daring any of them to misbehave or fool around in these lessons.
"You are all to listen to Mister Toole, and treat him with the utmost respect," Minerva warned, pausing for a long moment before she held out her hand, and turned to the man who was scratching his chin absently with his unmarred hand.
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Toole said with a slight bow, tapping his wand against his hand and a plethora of simple red hoops sprang from where they had been gathered in a corner at the front of the Hall—lining themselves up in a neat, hovering line that curved round the man and filed into rows on the stage behind him.
"We'll be have these little official sessions twice a month, but if you wish extra practice then we've been granted use off the Quidditch Pitch every third Thursday of each month," Mr. Toole explained, tapping his foot steadily on the ground, he had a raspy yet friendly voice that filled the room easily as he spoke.
"Now if you'll all be so kind as to come and receive a hoop, then we can get started," Toole instructed.
One by one they all went up to pick up a hoop, only to then be sorted in neat columns and rows, and placing their hoops—which was several feet in front of each of them. The goal, Toole told them, was to get into the hoop.
Loudly he kept repeating that the foundation of Apparition is built upon the three D's: Destination, Determination and Deliberation. One must be completely determined to reach one's destination, and move without haste, but with deliberation.
Draco was on Hermione's left, but on her right was Severus Snape, looking peeved and unimpressed at this whole situation.
There were a lot of frustrated noises and low curses spilling from the Sixth Years as most of them tried their hand at Apparition for the first time.
Draco, however, was more focused on watching Hermione in his peripherals, and how she was pouting and glaring at the red hoop as if its very presence offended her.
It went on like that for some time, Toole walking up and down, gently encouraging those that were getting frustrated—so far Sirius and Lily were the only ones who seemed to be making any progress.
Hermione had just crossed her arms over her chest in false annoyance when Snape sneered only for Hermione's ears to hear—but Draco easily caught it with his heightened hearing, "perhaps there are some things the Great Hermione Potter can't do."
Draco turned to them just in time to see the show begin: Hermione's eyebrows rose, she exhaled heavily through her nostrils and then she placed her hands on her hips before saying, "good morning to you too, Severus."
"Fuck off, Potter."
"That phrase is like music to my ears now," Hermione smiled sweetly, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder as she twisted her head in Draco's direction—the expression on her face spoke volumes and he understood exactly what she was thinking, he simply shrugged in response, and she seemingly took that as permission.
Hermione closed her eyes, face relaxing as her arms dropped limply to her sides, and in a moment she'd turned on her heel and vanished from sight.
Draco watched with a giddy sort of glee as Snape's jaw dropped abruptly, shaking his head before he tried to regain his composure, tucking his greasy black hair behind his ears, clearing his throat and facing forward—only for his eyes to widen once more when he spotted where Hermione had gone.
Hermione was rocking back and forth on her heels at the very front of the Great Hall, and she had engaged in small pleasantries with their instructor as he congratulated her on her success—Draco picked up bits and pieces of what Toole said: he is complete awe, it's rare that anyone has such a knack for it so quickly, though he doesn't suppose she can attempt to go back from whence she came.
A moment later Hermione reappeared in the same spot she had previously been occupying, whistling cheerily as she turned to Draco with elation splayed across her features.
"Show off," Draco smirked, and Hermione shot him an impish wink.
"Stunning finish," Hermione corrected, glancing over at Snape with a naïve grin.
Snape narrowed his eyes at both of them, a low hiss slipping through his teeth as he faced his own hoop once more and went back to struggling with it—a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face.
Ah, why not? Draco thought, pretending to have some difficulty for a few moments before he too turned on his heel and apparated directly into his hoop, yawning when he gazed upon his fellow wix—some of which spotted him in his hoop and gaped at him, immediately going back to their own and trying even harder to accomplish the same feat.
For the first session it went pretty much as expected: most people hadn't achieved much, but this lesson was more to familiarise them with the concept of apparition—it is an extremely tricky skill to learn after all.
Most people had already filtered out of the Hall when Hermione and Draco headed for the exit, sharing an inside joke about their real first Apparition lessons, 'I swear your face turned purple, Hermione', Draco teased, 'Git', Hermione said in amusement, when they heard Toole calling their names.
Phineas Toole swiftly and concisely explained to them that he'd like to have them back for a few more sessions to monitor how proficient they actually are, but once everything goes well he doesn't see why they can't do their test shortly after the new year rolls in—he'd asked them when their birthdays were moments beforehand.
Draco and Hermione both thanked the man for his time, and firmly shook his hand before he ambled past them and they could still see him up until he disappeared out through the Entrance Hall door.
"Well I wasn't expecting that, were you?" Hermione murmured, gnawing on her bottom lip thoughtfully.
Draco followed the motion with his eyes, thoughts occupied with other things when he responded, "no, I certainly wasn't."
"Well, we have the rest of the morning free so we might as well go and find the others and relax until lunch," Hermione said as her head angled to gaze up at him.
"Sounds like a plan," Draco nodded, stepping forward and pulling her into a side hug—immersing himself in the smell of chamomile and vanilla as she slid an arm around his waist—and they once again headed for the exit.
Flashback
Sunday, October 17th, 1976
Sirius Black's 17th Birthday
"You really need to bridge the gap and take the first step, his pride is probably getting in the way," Riley stated, slowly panning her head so that she made eye contact with each and every one of the Marauders present.
Sirius chose to spend the eve of his birthday surrounded by the ones he loved, leisurely chatting and joking in the Shrieking Shack.
(Riley was the only Non-Marauder that had ever come down here, and she'd been at a loss for words when they led her down the tunnel—making her swear on her magic never to share any of the details of what they were about to embark on, to which she'd easily agreed, and it wasn't that they didn't trust her, but one could never be too sure.
All of the Marauders—save for Peter—knew that Riley and Sirius had only put on a show of ending things, and that the two lovebirds were quite happily still besotted with one another.)
"His pride?" Sirius frowned, "I doubt that's it, Riles."
Riley twisted in his lap to look at him dead in the eye, "you Gryffindors are stubborn and bloody proud creatures."
"She's got a point, Padfoot," James said, he was reclining on the ground, his head resting on Hermione's thigh, his eyes were closed, his ankles were lapped and his fingers were intertwined and comfortably resting on his chest.
Draco was in a similar position aside from the fact that he was half in Remus's lap, and merrily engaging the werewolf in a conversation about the best baroque literature produced by witches and wizards in the seventeenth century.
"He gave me the gift in an awful hurry and then scurried off, if my hearing wasn't as good as it is, then I probably wouldn't have heard the 'Happy Birthday' he called over his shoulder as he retreated," Sirius said, a finger under Riley's chin before he leant up and stole a kiss.
"That is beside the point, you lot are best mates for a reason and you need to kiss and make up."
Sirius grinned wickedly at that, "I thought the only person I was supposed to be kissing was you?"
Riley rolled her eyes, half-heartedly hitting his chest, "you know what I mean. I don't even know why you're fighting in the first place, but it's probably something ridiculous, so I repeat, kiss and make up."
The lions quieted, torment silently swirling inside of their stomachs, slicing their insides to ribbons as they thought about their current predicament—Peter hadn't considered himself a part of the pack, and thus hadn't been included in the bond when it sealed, yet they all felt responsible and guilty. As if somehow they were at fault, and that very notion in and of itself, was a jagged stake that drove deeper and deeper into their hearts—sinking itself in just a smidge further every time he went out of his way to avoid them.
They couldn't tell the Hufflepuff why they were having a row with Peter, because that would mean revealing way too many secrets, and even if they trusted her unconditionally, the less people that knew the better.
"You're right, love," Sirius said, tightening his grip on the witch. "You're right."
The words hung in the air, and in that moment they all wordlessly agreed to actively work on extending an olive branch. He may not be pack, but he was their best mate after all, and this had gone on long enough.
They conversed and lazily lounged in the Shrieking Shack as the night wore on, steadily heading for its conclusion—until finally, in the wee hours of the morning they agreed to retire to their respective dormitories and beds. A new fire kindled in the Marauder's hearths, bright determination burning brightly in their bodies—they had a friend to win back.
So when I originally wrote this, I mistakenly wrote Sirius birthday as the 'canon' date, November 3rd, instead of the date I had chosen for him before that particular nugget of information was announced or whatever.
I'm telling you this to explain why it's a flashback, instead of at the beginning of the chapter. It just flows better how I wrote it, and I'd have to change some things (minor, but still) which I didn't wish yo do, so, here we are. Anyways, I do hope you enjoyed the chapter x