HELLO lovelies.
It's been a while, I know, but Happy Holidays, Happy Christmas, and if you don't celebrate Christmas then Happy Wednesday! I hope that whatever you are doing today, you all enjoy yourselves and I am sending all the good vibes your way. This is my little gift to you.
I saw a tumblr post years ago, and it mentioned something about someone skating down the moving staircases. So that partly inspired part of this chapter. I cannot remember who to give credits to, but thought I would mention that.
My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com
Please leave a review and let me know what you think ;)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Friday, January 6th, 1978
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Quidditch Pitch
Second Game of the Season
Gryffindor Vs. Hufflepuff
It was a sight to behold. Peter Pettigrew was a lone lion in the Hufflepuff stands, head-to-toe in red and gold. There was an odd, round hat on his head: when he touched the side, the top cracked open like an egg and a peculiar, paper mâché lion's head popped out of it.
Mary thought the hat was charming. She'd complimented Peter on his charm work whilst she tucked herself into his side and wound her large Hufflepuff scarf around them.
A few days ago, Peter had wrung his hands anxiously, and—on the way back to the Gryffindor Tower after classes—told James he fancied Mary, and sought permission to ask her out.
(Peter and Mary had bonded over their love of magical creatures and fauna, and spent a great deal of time together over the past few months.)
James had warmly embraced Peter, ruffled his hair with tender affection and gave the pair his blessing; he was glad that two of his favourite people had found each other, and he wished them all the best in the future.
Mary asked Peter to sit with her during the game, and he'd readily agreed. He did however insist that he wear his own house colours. Several Puffs were giving him strange looks, but with Mary on his arm, he found he didn't care.
Hermione and James swept past on their brooms, and hollered their encouragement at Peter. Their voices stretching out in a raucous trail behind them as they sped away.
I remember when they first made the team, Peter thought fondly. The cold air nipped at his cheeks, pinching them pink. He adjusted his maroon turtleneck so the neck opening was up and over his mouth. The fibres tickled his nostrils; he had to slouch a bit to accommodate such an action.
Mary squirmed in her seat in abundant excitement as the Hufflepuff team soared into the sky. It was the first game since term resumed, and the Hogwarts student body was eager to watch it unfold.
Winter was cruel this year, and even with the warming Charms cast over the stands, most of them still felt the chill.
"Remember your promise. If Hufflepuff beats you lot, then you're making me hot chocolate after the game, and you won't get upset." Mary leant into him and whispered against the shell of his ear.
Peter snorted, and tugged down the lip of his turtleneck so she could hear him. "I'll make you hot chocolate regardless of the outcome. And in the unlikely case that the Puffs win, I promise I won't get upset."
Mary playfully pinched his side. Peter stifled his yelp, and shot her a dirty look. It melted into heavy affection as she beamed up at him, her golden smile thawing his annoyance. Mary McDonald was one of the best things to ever happen to him; aside from his friendship with the Marauders.
Occasionally, a dark pang would run through Peter when he recalled that he wasn't Pack, and that he didn't share that particular bond with his mates. Then, he would remember that he did have another bond with them, a silver string that wrapped around all of them. He wasn't sure exactly what to call it, but they all shared it. He may not be Pack, but he was family.
Peter gazed out at the Quidditch Pitch. The game kicked off, and a sharp crack rang through the stands as Sirius swung his bat and sent the Bludger hurtling through the air.
The mousy haired boy's vision blurred, and he drifted off into a daydream, or more accurately, a memory.
"Why are we doing this again?" Peter asked quietly. Kira scowled at him, her fingers deftly weaving the daisy in neatly with the rest of the flowers she'd braided together thus far.
"Because we can," Nancy said. She shrugged. Her strawberry blonde hair a curtain across her face. Her head was bowed as she interlaced a few bluebells with some Baby's breath.
The trio was sat cross-legged, facing one another on the Quidditch pitch—on the outskirts—with a large heap of flowers in the middle of their misshapen circle.
Nancy suggested to Kira that they go and watch the Gryffindor team's Quidditch practice as she wanted to support Hermione. Kira readily agreed and the two girls stumbled across Peter when they arrived.
The Marauder was alone, head tipped to the sky as he watched the Potter siblings engaged in their first Quidditch practice since they officially made the team.
Draco waved down at the boy, and Peter's features lit up like the sun as he eagerly waved back.
"Pettigrew." Kira greeted as she saddled up beside the boy.
Peter flinched harshly, jumping out to the side in fright at the sudden noise. "K-Kira? Nancy? What are you two doing here?"
"Came to support our friend. What else?" Kira asked, lips pursed. She folded her arms over her chest as she examined him. "Where are the other two members of your club? Not often that you lot aren't conjoined at the hip."
"Sirius and Remus had…things to do." Peter said with a frown. He wrung his hands together and averted his gaze. Truthfully, they were off working on the Marauders Map, and had invited Peter, but he'd wanted to watch Quidditch practice instead.
"Please tell me I'm not going to turn into a lizard or something as equally horrendous this week." Kira groaned as she flopped onto the grass beside Peter, she tucked her skirts around her as to not flash anyone her pants.
"No idea what you're talking about. You feeling alright?" Peter asked innocently, eyebrows raised in concern.
"If you slip anything into my pumpkin juice this week, I will hurt you." Kira promised, jabbing her index finger in Peter's direction.
Peter smiled shyly. "So next week is okay then?"
The comment unwittingly drew a laugh out of Kira and Nancy, and Kira smirked at Peter before she genially wagged her finger at him.
"Who wants to braid flower crowns?" Nancy asked, grinning as she held up an armful of flowers (Peter hadn't noticed them until that moment), overflowing to the point that they threatened to spill out onto the ground.
"Where did you get those?" Peter asked, scratching the side of his nose.
"Magic," Nancy shrugged, carefully kneeling down, and she gently laid the flowers in the centre of their group.
Thus, Peter Pettigrew was roped into making flower crowns with the pair for the next hour. Easy conversation passed around the circle throughout. Peter was proud of the laughter he was able to draw from the girls.
Peter'd gotten closer to the two girls this school year, but they'd mostly hung out in a bigger group than this; he was chuffed the afternoon had gone so swimmingly.
The sweet scent of fauna was hefty in the air, and Peter inhaled deeply. He opened his mouth to speak, when the scene sharply shifted.
"GOAL!" Riley's voice boomed around the pitch, and snapped Peter back to reality. The Hufflepuff stands erupted with cheers.
Peter's gaze drifted across the pitch, over to the Gryffindor stands. It was a wave of gold and red.
Peter vaguely entertained the idea of finding Kira and Nancy in the crowd, but he remembered that Kira had tamed her hair into thick plaits that morning and woven ribbons into them, so her explosion of curls wouldn't signal her location today, especially at such a great distance.
Kira and Nancy have a habit of painting their faces red or gold for games, so they are blending in with the masses, Peter thought, crinkling his nose in thick contemplation.
The game was a rollercoaster for the couple: one of the Hufflepuff Beaters almost crashed into the Slytherin stands when whacking a Bludger at Jasper, James had two of the Hufflepuff Chasers on his tail for a good forty-five minutes, and Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were neck-and-neck for scores throughout. As soon as one team scored, the other quickly followed up, instantly closing the gap.
Peter knew that Draco was hovering above the fray, keen eye on the lookout for the snitch. Even if he spotted it, sometimes he waited until Gryffindor gathered a bit of a lead before he raced after the golden ball.
I wonder if he ever uses his heightened senses when playing Quidditch, Peter mused. He shook his head immediately. Draco takes the sport too seriously for that, he would see it as cheating and an unfair advantage.
"Though he can't really turn off his hearing," Peter murmured aloud.
"What was that?" Mary asked, twisting to look at him, her warm hands wound into the fabric of his jumper. Gryffindor scored, and Peter used that as a distraction. He set off his hat, and its lion roared. Mary giggled, but narrowed her eyes as if to let him know that she was allowing him to get away with whatever he'd said.
Peter's brown eyes widened as James scored once more, a hand raised in triumph as he flew away from the hoops. He let his hat roar once more.
A few badgers grumbled around him, sulking. A younger year turned around and smiled at him. Peter returned it, and waved briefly. The girl beamed before righting herself in her seat, one of her friends pointed at the sky where the two Seekers lay in wait.
The game was tense from then on out. Peter stopped using his hat. He sat on the edge of his seat. Gryffindor was up fifty points. Disappointment threaded through Riley's voice as she announced that fact.
The slightest motion high in the sky drew everyone's attention. Draco had moved. He was moving through the air effortlessly, like he belonged to the sky, a free force of nature. The Hufflepuff Seeker held close to him, head swivelling as he tried to find the Snitch.
Draco dove suddenly, robes whipping out behind him, a hand outstretched. The Hufflepuff Seeker—Oswald—followed suit. Praying that he was able to outmanoeuvre Draco.
Fat chance of that, Peter snorted internally. He stood up in his seat, nails digging into his palms as he watched one of his best mates abruptly break right and pull up. Oswald soared down to the Pitch, pulling up in time not to crash. He futilely attempted to chase after Draco.
Moments later, Draco's fingers closed around a glint of gold, and he smoothly soared around the pitch. He displayed the snitch as he passed around the stands, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you so desired. The radiant grin on his face blinding.
Peter cheered loudly. He didn't care that he was surrounded by sullen Puffs. His best mate caught the Snitch, and Gryffindor had won.
Peter loved all of his friends, but he'd always felt closer to Remus and Draco for some reason. Hermione still scared him at times, and he was grateful that her wrath was never directed in his direction. He deeply admired James and Sirius, but they had their own special bond, an Unbreakable one that they alone shared.
Draco was always the one to check up on him, and make sure he was okay. He'd known something was off with Peter when his Father had died, but he never pressed for details.
Draco's attempted to make Peter some blueberry scones at the time to cheer him up (they were Peter's favourite). The texture was a bit off, but it was the thought that counted.
Now all of his friends knew about his family situation, and it was Hermione who'd held him and told him it was all going to be okay. She soothingly rubbed his back as he sobbed into her shoulder.
Peter was thankful that he'd found such a great group of friends, and even more so that he'd met the Potters.
After all, it takes a certain kind of person to be okay with you dating their ex, Peter thought as he recalled his conversation a few days ago with James. James hadn't hesitated in giving Peter his blessing, and there was no malice or jealousy in his tone. The boy was all smiles and he'd pulled Peter into a tight embrace.
Peter thought he spotted Kira in the distance, but couldn't be sure. I wonder if Kira and Nancy would be up for making some more flower crowns. I could give Mary one as a surprise, Peter thought fondly, a light blush painting his cheeks.
The last few years hadn't been the easiest for him, but he knew with his friends and Mary by his side, the future was bright.
Friday, January 13th, 1978
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Quidditch Pitch
Third Game of the Season
Gryffindor Vs. Ravenclaw
"Why are we the ones playing on Friday the thirteenth?" Sirius groaned, his head hitting the wall with a sharp thud.
"Because we beat Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw beat Slytherin last term." Draco informed his friend as he strolled past him over to his locker. "Plus Friday the thirteenth is a stupid Muggle superstition, Sirius."
The Gryffindor Quidditch team was gathered in their changing room, prepping for the game that would begin shortly. Tensions were high. Gryffindor was leading in points right now, but Ravenclaw was too close for comfort; if this game tipped in their favour, they would shoot into first place.
The locker section of the changing rooms was long and narrow, with a wide wooden bench in the middle of the aisle; only one person could comfortably squeeze between the lockers and the bench on either side at a time.
At the end, it opened out into a spacious bathroom with single-person sink vanities and mirrors lining one wall, and stalls on the opposite side. Some held toilets, others held showers. If you rounded the corner to the left right after the lockers ended, it carried you down the narrow, tall tunnel that led out to the pitch; torches lined the walls. At the end there was a sizeable space big enough to fit twenty people. A pair of doors were in the middle of the far wall, and daylight teased its way through the cracks.
May was in the corner of the locker room, sat at the end of the bench with his back against the wall, legs on either side. May's broom was laid across his lap as he polished the handle with a stained rag (the polish turned the once cream rag into a caramel colour). He didn't dare wash it.
May was a superstitious sort. He didn't wash his socks nor his trousers when they were winning a season (he thankfully used freshening charms), and he always polished his kit the night before a game. His broom the day of.
Draco preferred to polish his broom at least the night before the game, so the oils had a chance to sink into the wood.
"I dunno, maybe it does carry some weight," Jasper said. The wizard had one foot up on the bench, tightening the straps on his knee-high, brown leather boots.
"Oi! I don't want to hear any of that kind of talk!" Sirius exclaimed, adjusting his gloves. Jasper shot his upperclassmen an exasperated look, his pastel pink hair falling into his eyes. (The boy had dyed it bright red at the end of December, and it had faded to the softer colour since; his dark roots were beginning to show).
Jasper was long and lithe—his legs were almost twice the length of his torso—with a square jaw, round, whisky coloured eyes, freckles across his cheeks, and a mole on the back of his neck.
He was a friendly lad, who tried in school but generally preferred to be outdoors, more oft than not up in the air flying. He was remarkably bright, but he had little interest in academia, and fortunately for him, he was one of the best chasers they'd seen in the last few decades (aside from James of course).
"You really are a contrary lad, aren't you, Black?" Jasper blew out a sigh, dropping his foot back onto the ground, stretching his skinny arms high above his head.
"Funny, Walburga used to say something similar." Sirius was rifling around in his locker, and with a victorious noise he pulled a hair tie from his belongings. He strode over to Hermione, and dropped onto the bench beside her.
Sirius spoke of his birth Mother in the past tense whenever he referred to her; as if she was not alive and kicking.
Hermione silently took the hair tie, and patted his back. Sirius swung a leg over the bench, backing her, and absently drummed his fingers across the wooden surface.
Hermione nimbly combed his luscious locks backwards with her fingers, sectioned the hair into thirds, and began to braid it.
"We're going to be fine." Draco stated firmly, no room for doubt in his tone. He slowly swivelled on the spot, holding the gaze of each of his team members.
James joined his brother's side, clapping his hand on Draco's shoulder. "Positive thoughts, children. With the right mindset we can defy all the bad energy floating about."
"Prongs, I am offended you aren't taking this seriously," Sirius gasped in mock outrage. He jostled his head, and tugged the ends of his braid from Hermione's hands. She kissed her teeth together and picked up where she left off. Thankfully, the movement hadn't unwoven his hair.
"Your concerns have been noted, Padfoot. I am choosing to ignore your negativity, and counteract it with positivity. We are going to win, and we are going to play spectacularly!" James's voice echoed throughout the changing room. The cheers and boisterous agreement from his teammates resounded around the space.
It was a fast-paced, miserable game. The wind cruel and unrelenting as it accosted the players. More than once, the quaffle narrowly missed its target and the harmonious groans that rebounded throughout the stands tickled Draco's ears.
It had poured the night prior. A thick fog rolled in halfway through the game, making it almost impossible to see a few feet in front of oneself. One of the Hufflepuff Beaters nearly crashed into Draco; he'd rolled out of the way in the nick of time.
McGonagall will want to cancel for sure. If she doesn't, then Flitwick will certainly have something to say, Draco thought. His goggles were misting up. A zipping sound reached his ears. The fog trembled before him, and his eyes widened as he realised a bludger was heading his way. He narrowly dodged it.
Draco decided that he didn't care about the scores right now, he needed to catch the snitch as soon as possible to put them all of their misery, or before someone got severely injured.
"Draco!"
A figure flew through the fog, cautious as they moved; Sirius.
"Told you, mate. Friday the fucking thirteenth." Sirius pulled up beside him, hair clinging to his cheeks, he gruffly brushed it off, but a fair number of strands remained where they were.
"I don't care what day it is," Draco said absently, his voice a wisp that blended in with the fog. His goggles were rendered useless in this fog, so he shoved them up and onto his forehead.
"Catch the—"
"Snitch? Yea I'm trying, Pads." Draco grumbled, eyes narrowed as he searched the sky. He was tempted to shift his eyes and use his heightened senses. I probably could. Use what I have at my disposal… Draco pondered. Draco Malfoy would have done so in a heartbeat.
There was no need. A golden glint zipped past them, and Draco's reflexes kicked in. He gripped his broom handle tightly, his leather gloves squeaking. He leant forward so he was laid flat against his broom, and sped after it.
It was a blur. The fog stung his cheeks and the wind was vicious, drying out his eyes. He couldn't afford to let up for the second it would take to right his goggles.
Draco outstretched a hand, holding his breath as he neared the snitch. A whizzing sound reached Draco's ears from behind him, and he didn't have to look back to know that either a bludger or the Ravenclaw Seeker was hot on his trail.
There were patterns woven through the fog from where Draco had zoomed past and thus disturbed it.
Victory was close. Draco could taste it. He willed himself forward faster, his arm felt like it might pop out of its socket as he reached.
Smooth, icy metal met his fingers, and Draco closed his hand around the snitch. A noise of triumph left his mouth as he jerkily pulled up. He swivelled in the air, sitting upright and raising his hand to the heavens.
He was too high, and the fog covered him too thickly. No one could see him.
Draco spotted two things simultaneously: the Ravenclaw Seeker several feet away—disappointed and panting heavily—and a bludger hurtling towards him. He didn't have time to react and it slammed into the side of his calf.
The impact reverberated through his leg, the area it hit was white hot. A sickening snap reached his ears.
Draco reluctantly howled out in pain, the agony-filled sound echoing out around him. He slipped sideways on his broom, his free hand catching hold of his broom handle. The Raveclaw Seeker, Reign, surged forward, her mouth open in shock.
Shards of iron radiated throughout his leg. It was broken, it had to be. He couldn't see it, but his bone had pierced through his skin, and blood was gushing down his leg.
"Paws!" Sirius's voice called.
"Grab my hand!" Reign demanded in her soft voice. She hung off her broom, a hand stretched out towards him. Draco grimaced.
"My hands are pretty full if you didn't notice, love!" Draco shouted, lip curling in pain. His fingers were barely holding onto the broom, barely. The broom wobbled in the air, unsteady.
Reign blew out a frustrated huff. Sirius broke through the fog at the same time. He pulled up beside Draco, brow furrowed. He caught sight of Draco's leg and hissed.
"It's Friday—"
"The fucking thirteenth, I got that! Now help me up you wanker!"
"Well, since you asked so nicely," Sirius snorted. He'd already parked himself parallel to Draco, trying to angle himself just right. Draco winced as he found the back of Sirius's broom with his good leg.
Sirius slowly manoeuvred his broom under Draco. The wizard eased his injured leg over the handle by shifting his thigh.
The sound of Riley's voice from below travelled up to them, she mentioned that both Seekers had been missing for quite some time.
Draco's hand cramped, and unwittingly, his fingers released from his broom. He dropped harshly into place behind Sirius, and he swore and pitied his bollocks, the handle slamming him right in the groin. Pain radiated throughout his body, his eyes squeezed shut as he whimpered under his breath.
Draco didn't have much time to think as the pair plummeted a few feet from the force. Draco gripped onto the back of Sirius's jersey, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he tried to maintain his balance. He opened his eyes. Draco saw his broom whip through the air as it hurtled downwards. It was inches away from hitting them.
Reign watched on, her dark hair blowing out around her. She flew towards them, hovering close as Sirius managed to halt their descent.
"Please…tell me…you at least caught the ruddy snitch." Sirius pleaded, peering over his shoulder at Draco.
Draco reached around Sirius, and held the golden ball between three fingers, showing off his prize.
"Thank Morgana. Not all is lost. Let's get you down so Hermione or Pomfrey can take a look at your leg."
Draco risked a peek at his leg, more than a little perturbed by the sight of his fractured bone sticking out of the pierced skin. The area around the wound was swollen and blood was still trickling out. No wonder he felt lightheaded.
"Sounds like a plan."
It was a miserable match, but they won.
Sirius gently descended, checking on Draco every few seconds like a worried Mother Hen. Draco's arms were slung around Sirius's midsection.
They broke through the thickest section of fog, sailing downwards, Reign right behind them.
The first thing Draco saw was his broom—now a snapped twig—strewn sadly across the pitch.
Hermione and James appeared out of thin air, a barrage of questions spewing from their lips as they anxiously examined him. James's tone was frantic and squeaky when he caught sight of Draco's leg.
"Bloody hell," James swore softly, swinging his broom around so he was hovering beside Draco's injured leg, and he leant in to get a better look. "We should get you to Pomfrey before that gets infected."
"One second," Draco said. In triumph his hand shot into the air, the golden snitch proudly on display.
The Gryffindor stands erupted into clamant cheers; the sound boomed around the pitch.
Riley announced them as the official winners, a bittersweet tinge to her tone; she was pleased for them, but mourning her own team's standing. Draco happily kissed the now lukewarm snitch in his hands.
The Gryffindor team carefully finished their descent as a team. Hermione, May and James sprang off of their brooms onto the pitch, and rushed over to where Draco and Sirius were hovering.
With some deft wandwork, and copious amounts of patience, they levitated Draco down onto the pitch and laid him down besides where Madame Pomfrey was already kneeling in the wet grass, the earth soft and pliant under her knees.
Draco swore loudly when his leg jolted upon impact. Both Quidditch teams gathered around—with enough space that Pomfrey didn't shoot them dirty glares, but close enough to get a good look at the events unfolding. A sea of Red, Gold, Blue and Bronze.
Draco tossed the Snitch in Hooch's direction as she was by his feet, peering at his leg with calm interest. She easily caught it.
"Make sure to look after that leg, Poppy. Boy still has the rest of the season ahead of him," Hooch said sternly. Poppy Pomfrey's head was bowed as she tended to Draco's leg, assessing the damage. Her eyes snapped to the side and she glared up at Hooch.
"Thank you for your input Madam Hooch. I assure you, the boy will be about frolicking in a few days or so."
Draco had propped himself up on his elbows to study Madame Pomfrey's work, but the energy drained out of him, and he slumped onto his back, arms stretched out on the pitch beside him. He stared up at the monotonous sky. Draco blinked a few times.
A light drizzle trickled from the heavens, the water washing any dirt or grime off of his face. His eyes fluttered shut and he drowned out the chatter surrounding him.
There was a sharp pain in his leg. Draco winced and ground his teeth together.
"Mister Potter. Draco. Are you still with us?" Pomfrey asked sharply.
Draco grunted. Slender hands were on the sides of his head, and they lifted it up off of the ground. It was lowered gently onto something supple and soft.
"I'm here," Hermione's voice whispered to him, and he focused on that. He honed in on her fingers stroking circles on his cheeks, and on the rain pouring onto him.
Draco's mouth was dry, full of cotton. His lips parted, and rain droplets slid into his mouth and down his throat, leaving soothing trails in their wake. Draco smacked his lips together. Another sharp twist of pain radiated from his leg, and a reluctant groan left him.
Darkness coaxed him. He was tired. Draco allowed it to take him by the hand and skip away into nothingness. Into a flat expanse of black, all sounds muted until they faded to an oppressive silence.
Monday, January 30th, 1978
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Lily Evans's Eighteenth Birthday
Draco's recovery after his nasty injury was swift but uncomfortable to put it mildly. Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes more than once at his dramatics when he had to ingest his daily potions. Thankfully he was out of her hair within a few days as his leg was on the mend and well enough to walk on. Draco was mainly irritated that he couldn't play Quidditch or do anything too strenuous for a little over a week thereafter.
James suggested that the pair go for longer walks as opposed to their morning runs until Draco's leg could handle it. Hermione often joined them, but more oft than not, preferred to sleep in when she could.
The rest of January drained through their fingers like sand, fickle and unwilling to be held for a brief moment.
Before they knew it, the month's chapter closed, and it was their favourite redhead's birthday.
Sirius suggested they share a couple drinks to mark the momentous occasion. James was hesitant as Lily wasn't a drinker, Peter shrugged but smiled, Remus rolled his eyes and agreed, Draco snorted in amusement, and Hermione asked if there had been any other options to begin with.
In hindsight, it had been rather foolish to give Lily her own bottle of Firewhisky. The girl hadn't drunk an eighth of the bottle before her eyes glazed over and her face flushed red.
She adamantly requested a piggyback ride from Draco, and charmed, the wizard granted the birthday girl's wish.
Lily's arms were tightly looped around Draco's neck as she gestured in random directions of where she wanted to go next. The Marauders and Lily were traipsing around the fifth floor with little to no purpose.
Before she'd vaulted onto Draco's back, Lily exclaimed loudly, "this is great! I've missed you. We never spend time together anymore, Drakie!"
Hermione clutched her sides and silently cackled at Draco's unimpressed expression regarding 'Drakie'. He truly detested the nickname.
Sirius was thoroughly enjoying every moment. James less so.
"Evans, maybe it's time we go back to our dorm. Yea?" James tried.
Lily sulked instantly at the thought of her fun being over. "Drakie! Down!" Lily demanded, and gracefully landed on her feet. "No! I am having loads of fun out here!"
Lily's voice boomed down the corridor, and the Marauders all winced at the intense pitch. It was almost time for curfew, and they were surely going to draw unwanted attention to themselves at this rate. The plan was to go to the edge of the Black Lake, build a bonfire, and to come back to the castle just before curfew. Things had taken a turn when Lily had prematurely downed too much Firewhisky for her to handle, when they hadn't made it even two floors down.
"Evans. You are Head girl. Is this any way to behave?" Sirius asked, scandalised as he dramatically pressed his hand to his chest. "I think it best we return you to your Common room."
"You'll never take me alive!" Lily exploded, wand raised to the ceiling. The Marauders all ducked for cover—Peter hid behind Remus. Lily sprinted in the opposite direction.
"We should give Evans alcohol more often," Sirius said in awe, hands clasped behind his head as he languidly trailed in the direction she'd gone.
"No, the fuck we shouldn't," James groaned. He dragged a hand down the front of his umber coloured jumper, tucked into his faded, high-waisted blue jeans.
"I think we should. This is good fun," Draco added, hands in his jacket pockets as he watched Lily round the corner and disappear from view. "How is she running with all of those layers on?" He wondered aloud.
James shrugged off his fleece-lined jacket and thrust it into Hermione's arms. Hermione cocked an eyebrow, and James barely spared her a glance before saying, "fuck. What happens if she bumps into one of the Professors." James swore under his breath; he clearly found a bit more urgency in the whole situation than the others, and without another word, bounded off after his girlfriend.
The other Marauders decided to put some haste to their pace, and all broke out into a run after him. Partly out of concern for Lily and what trouble she might find herself in, but mainly they wished to be there to witness the trouble unfold.
They stuttered to a halt when they rounded the corner and found James trying to coax a teetering Lily down off of one of the stone handrails on either side of the moving stairs.
Lily giggled, her mouth twisted to the side with determination. She turned her—now bare—feet inwards towards the stairs, and twisted her upper body to face the bottom of the stairs, and before anyone could say or do anything, she launched herself forwards, and somehow skated down the handrail and flipped off the end onto the landing. Without a scratch.
Lily spun around to look up at them, her hands thrust upwards and with immense pride she bellowed, "did you fucking SEE that?!"
"How—" Hermione gaped, leaning into Remus for support as she was sure her knees were going to give out any moment.
There were thousands of ways that could have gone wrong: She could have lost her footing, stumbled backwards and hurtled down into the open space for metres, not to mention if the stairs had decided to move at that exact moment.
James looked as if he was about to faint, and his hands were trembling. Lily snickered, swinging back and forth as she linked her hands behind her back.
A switch flicked back on inside of James, his body unstuck, and his limbs kicked into action once more; he rushed down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Lily threw herself at him when he reached the bottom, her feet digging into him as she attempted to scale his body. James didn't know what to do with his hands, leaving one to rest on her waist in some effort to support her weight.
"Mate, she is trying to climb you like she's Jack and you're the beanstalk." Sirius commented.
Peter withdrew his bag of sugar quills from his inner coat pocket, and held the already open bag in Draco's direction. Draco gratefully took a few with muttered thanks, stealing his gaze away from his brother and Lily long enough to accept the snacks.
"This is bloody excellent," Peter whispered reverently. "Who knew Evans could be like this?"
"Probably the same person who's seen you when you're pissed, mate," Remus teased. He nicked a couple sugar quills.
Peter smiled wryly. "Don't know what you're on about."
Hermione let a nervous laugh slip through her lips. "What the fuck is going on?" Hermione stopped by the top of the stairs, crouching down and scooping Lily's abandoned shoes up off of the ground.
"We are a terrible influence," Remus sighed. The unique crunching sound that followed eating sugar quills filled the air. Remus scratched the side of his face as he passed by Hermione and descended the stairs.
"Think you meant a great influence," Sirius corrected smugly. Peter held the sugar quills out to him, and Sirius licked his lips, but shook his head. "No thanks, mate. Not in the mood for anything sweet."
Peter shrugged, "more for me." He follows Remus down the stairs, his shoulders swaying to some subconscious beat as he moved.
"Did you say Jack and the Beanstalk earlier?" Hermione questioned, lips pursed.
"Knew that heightened hearing would come in handy at some point," Sirius joked, dodging Hermione when she made to swat him.
"That's a Muggle children's story. I was just wondering how you'd heard about it."
"No. Muggles have their own version…but you do realise it actually happened right?"
Hermione's brow drew together in disbelief, the corner of her mouth twitched upwards, and she twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she digested his words. "I beg your pardon?"
"I know your…" Sirius's voice dropped so only she could hear him, "…Muggle upbringing—"
Hermione shot him a scathing look, jabbing him harshly in his arm with her index finger. He yelped softly.
"Blimey, woman. You'll bruise me." Sirius affectionately scowled at her as he rubbed at his arm. "As I was saying, it may have been a story for you, but that story was based on magical facts. A loose interpretation if you will."
"What makes it a loose interpretation? There was no beanstalk?" Hermione snorted ungraciously. She slowly began to descend the stairs, hand on the railing, head tilting back and forth like a metronome with every step.
"Jack was a knobhead. He murdered the giant and his wife whilst they were sleeping and stole their valuables in the dead of night, and absconded with them. Didn't deserve the cushy lifestyle he enjoyed for the remainder of his days." Sirius snorted. He fell into step with her, and rubbed the back of his knuckles across the scruff along his jaw.
"That's dreadful."
"C'est la vie," Sirius shrugged.
At that exact moment, a sharp whine whistled from Lily, and she pouted as she exclaimed, "what was in the water you guys drank growing up? Like…you are all so attractive…like it hurts to look at you right now."
"I think it's time we get Lily to bed," Hermione said, joining the others at the bottom of the stairs. Sirius came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, dropping his chin on top of Hermione's head.
Lily was stroking James's face and whispering, "my pretty boy." James was battling away a smile, trying to maintain a stern expression as he explained that she would need to let go of him.
"You just need to get down, and then you can hop on my back, okay?" James reasoned. Lily mulled it over in her head for a minute, her brow furrowing as she narrowed her eyes at him.
"Okay," Lily said, shrugging as she unravelled herself from his person. She firmly planted her feet on the ground. She let out a squeal as James deftly scooped her into his arms; he was carrying her princess style, and she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck. James kissed the top of her head, and Lily sighed happily.
"I think we best call it a night," Draco said, shrugging his shoulders. Hermione focused on how shiny his black, dragonhide shoes were. He was dressed oddly today, with his burnt orange coloured turtleneck and his dark leather pants; his black jacket was now slung over one forearm.
That colour doesn't look as ghastly on him as it should. Why does he look good in everything, Hermione thought. She looped her arm through Sirius's, and half-listened as he and Remus discussed the mermaids in the Great Lake. Wondering what they did for fun.
As the group made their way back to the Head Dorms, Hermione ruminated on the past month; on the good luck, bad luck, and on how they were topping it all off, with one very, drunk Head Girl.