Monday, June 5, 1978
Quills scratched all around him, filling the air with the soft cacophony of countless words filling countless sheets of parchment as Remus stared down at his own empty exam. His fingers gripped his quill as tiny droplets of ink fell onto his parchment. Drip. Drip. Drip. He reread the first question, each word standing out stark and bold against the parchment. Define the Principle of Artificianimate Quasi-Dominance, and explain one problem that can occur when conjuring living creatures if this principle is not observed.
Remus picked at his cuticle as he stared at the question. He knew the answer – he remembered a conversation about it in the library mere days ago. There had been something about a doodle on Mary's notes… He dug harder into the skin around his thumbnail as he struggled to come up with the answer. The information hovered just out of reach, taunting him until he dropped his quill onto the desk in irritation.
This was no good. He couldn't remember the answer, couldn't remember anything. His brain had reset, just as it did after every full moon, except this time it had reset the moment he picked up his quill to take this exam. All of the theorems he had studied, all of the spells he had reviewed and repeated and crammed into his head, it was all gone, floating around wherever Vanished things went – and he couldn't even remember where exactly that was at the moment.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then another. Ignoring the scratching of quills and the tap of Donald Fawcett's fingers against the desk and Mary's sigh of irritation as she scratched something out, Remus pictured his notes. They were creased from overuse and bore the heading Principle of Artificianimate Quasi-Dominance (PAQD). He could even see the vague outline of a definition, but when he tried to zoom in on the blurry image, it evaporated.
Dipping his quill into the ink again, he pressed the tip against his parchment and began to write. The Principle of Artificianimate Quasi-Dominance, he began, and then he froze with his quill poised above the parchment until ink splattered down and obscured the beginning of the question.
Bloody hell. He pulled at his cuticle until a sharp jab of pain shot up his finger, but it did nothing to jar his memory. When he looked down, he saw he was bleeding, then groaned when he noticed a smear of blood across the top of the exam paper. Great. He rested his head in his hands, wondering whether he should turn in his exam now and save himself the frustration. What did his score on the Transfiguration N.E.W.T. matter, when he would be in the middle of bloody nowhere in a month, trying to persuade other werewolves to join a cause they most likely had no interest in joining? And how could Dumbledore trust him with that task, when he couldn't even remember what the Principle of fucking Artificianimate Quasi-Dominance was?
A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned to see Mary peering at him through a curtain of dark curls, concern creasing her features.
"You okay?" she mouthed, her eyes darting to his thumb which was bleeding onto the desk.
He bit his lip and shook his head; he didn't have the brain power to lie.
She nodded, returning her gaze to her exam paper for a moment as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. Everyone else continued to scribble away. A few rows up, Donald Fawcett's fingers tapped the desk, while behind them, someone's chair scraped against the floor. Near the front of the room, someone sneezed.
Mary cleared her throat, and Remus stopped rubbing at the bloody smudge on his exam paper to look at her.
"You're okay," she mouthed, her eyes darting to the front of the room to ensure the examiner wasn't watching. "You're okay. You know this."
And as her mouth formed the words, Remus began to believe they were true. He looked back at his exam paper and read the first question one more time. The image of his notes burst into his mind, except this time he could see everything. He remembered the definition, and the frog-rabbit, and all the other strange phenomena that resulted when PAQD went wrong. Smiling to himself, he put the quill to the parchment and began to write.
He was halfway through his response when he realized his rudeness. Glancing at Mary, he gave a soft cough to get her attention. When she looked at him, quill paused mid-sentence, he smiled and mouthed, "Thanks."
She nodded at him, just the barest jerk of her head, before she returned to her exam. Remus couldn't be sure, and he didn't look closer lest he be accused of cheating, but he swore he saw a doodle of a frog-rabbit hybrid on Mary's paper. Repressing a chuckle, he returned to his own exam, confident that he did indeed know the information. He might not earn an Outstanding, but he knew enough to pass, and he would worry about recruiting werewolves once he was finished with N.E.W.T.s.
One nearly impossible task at a time, he thought, wiping his bleeding cuticle on the inside of his sleeve before returning to his exam. At least for this question, he was sure he would get full marks. Sirius's voice floated back to him, urging him to discuss MEOW on one of his exam questions. Remus was tempted. Grinning, he returned to his exam, taking a deep breath and releasing the last remnants of tension as his hand flowed freely over the page.
Wednesday, June 7, 1978
Remus scanned his notes, letting his eyes drift over the pages as he searched for anything that stood out to him. He knew he was prepared for the exam – he had been prepared even before the countless hours of studying he had done over the last several weeks. Yet he revisited the Transfiguration exam over and over, convincing himself that if he didn't cement the information in his brain, it would all float away the minute he sat down in the Great Hall and picked up his quill. Sighing, he flipped to the next piece of parchment and began to review his notes on the Patronus Charm.
"I dunno why you're bothering to study for Defense, Moony," Sirius said, lifting his head from Mary's lap. "You already know all of that. You could've written the exam, probably. Leave that and have a game of chess with me or something."
Remus shook his head. "I'm just going to look over my notes a bit longer." He read the definition of non-corporeal Patronuses, or what should have been the definition of non-corporeal Patronuses. The notes broke off mid-sentence, and the words he had managed to copy down were so illegible that he had to squint to make them out.
"Why are my notes for Patronuses so shit?" he muttered, frowning down at the parchment.
James looked up from his own notes and grinned. "Because the class we learned the Patronus Charm was, you know, not a great day for you," he said, raising his eyebrows. "I'm surprised you managed to write anything down at all. You can borrow my notes, if you like, but Padfoot's right. You know all of this. Take a break and we can play Exploding Snap."
"No we can't," Lily said with a reproachful smile. "You're meant to be quizzing me."
"Well, you've earned a break, too." He made a grab for her textbook, but she held it out of his reach. "Come on, Evans. No more studying until I've beaten you at Exploding Snap."
"Maybe I'll play in a bit," Remus said, rolling his eyes as James tickled Lily to make her drop the book. "Could I borrow those notes, though, if you don't mind?" When James continued tickling Lily and didn't reply, Remus sighed and rose from his chair, reaching for the sheaf of notes and sorting through to find the section he needed. James took thorough, detailed notes, but he didn't always label them with subjects or headings, and he jammed them into his bag at the end of class, so they were often creased or torn and in no particular order.
"Prongs, do you know where that section is?" he asked, setting down a page of notes on Inferi decorated with doodles of Snitches and Lily's initials.
"That's cute," someone said, pointing at one of the more detailed Snitches that bore a smiley face. Remus looked up to see Bubbles standing beside his armchair, carrying his own stack of parchment. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his bright red hair stood out against his pale skin.
"James drew it," Remus said, grinning. "He can do a decent Flitwick, too." He glanced at the thick sheaf of notes. "How're the O.W.L.s going?"
Bubbles grimaced. "Alright. Herbology was fine, and Care of Magical Creatures, but tomorrow's Transfiguration, and then I have Defense Against the Dark Arts, and we're all sort of panicking." He gestured at several fifth years seated on the other side of the room. "I was thinking maybe you could…"
Remus put down James's notes and cast a longing look at Seven, curled in his armchair with her Charms book open in her lap. "Come on," he said, setting off across the room with Bubbles bounding along beside him.
"You're the best," Bubbles gushed. "I dunno why, but I always study better with you. I think you have a calming presence."
Remus snorted. He hadn't felt anything even resembling calm in the past week, but he supposed he hid the inner turmoil and panic well.
"Right," he said, pulling up a chair to join Bubbles and his friends at their table. "Transfiguration first, since it's tomorrow?" When nobody argued, he examined the notes scattered across the table. "What have you already gone over?"
Over an hour later, Bubbles leaned back in his chair and heaved a contented sigh.
"I feel like we're in really good shape for tomorrow," he said, shuffling the disorganized assortment of notes into some semblance of a pile.
"Me too," his girlfriend said, rubbing her eyes. "Thanks for helping us, Remus. I'm normally fine on my own, but I think we've all just been studying too much and our brains sort of gave up, if that makes sense." She nodded at Bubbles and grinned. "Although this one's brain gave up a long time ago."
Bubbles shook his head in indignation. "Is Seven this bloody rude to you, Remus?" He stood up and bent to kiss his girlfriend, then looked back at Remus. "But seriously, thanks. You're a lifesaver, honestly. I hope this didn't keep you from doing your own studying."
Remus glanced over at his usual spot by the fireplace, where his friends were yawning and gathering their things to go up to bed. He had missed his opportunity to study for the exam tomorrow if he didn't want to deprive himself of sleep, but he really didn't mind.
"It's okay," he said, rising from his chair and stretching his cramped limbs. "I've done too much studying lately, too. If I did any more, my brain might give up." He waved goodbye to Bubbles and his friends, then wandered over to join his own friends as they made their way up to the dormitory.
"You're so cute," Seven said, smiling at him as he sat on the edge of his bed to remove his shoes. "I've never seen anyone so happy to help younger students study, especially when you have your own studying to do."
Remus shrugged. "They needed a bit of motivation and encouragement, so I helped them out."
"And you are incredibly sweet for doing it," she insisted.
"You're just saying that because we're dating."
"No she's not," Lily said, poking her head through the curtains surrounding James's bed. "I think it's adorable, too." She raised her eyebrows and added, "And we all know you're not my type – look how neat your hair is."
"You're like a mini teacher," Sirius said as he stripped off his shirt and trousers, leaving them in a heap on the floor before launching himself into bed. "Hogwarts should be paying you."
Remus rolled his eyes and stood up to retrieve his pajamas from his trunk. "Don't be stupid."
"I mean it," Sirius said. "You'd better come back here as a professor someday. You'd be great at it. You already dress like a professor, and you give off a sort of teachery vibe–"
"I'm pretty sure the word is teacherly," Remus remarked.
Sirius grinned. "See? That was a teachery comment – or teacherly, whatever the fuck it is. Anyway, all you're missing is one of those cases all the teachers have that they use to carry whatever the hell teachers carry."
"Homework, I'd assume," Mary offered as she climbed into bed beside him. "Maybe a book or two."
"I suppose. And probably a flask, for those obnoxious classes full of the sort of students who don't ever shut up and ask ridiculous questions."
"Classes full of students like us, you mean?" James asked, chuckling.
Sirius waved a hand in the air. "Nah. There won't ever be another class like ours. We're one of a kind."
"Well, good thing," Peter said. "Otherwise Moony would retire after his first day."
"I can't be a teacher." Remus had begun to imagine standing beside a blackboard in front of a group of students, coaching them on the pronunciation of an incantation or the proper wrist movement, showing them a Grindylow in a tank. It should be an attainable goal, somewhere in the vague future when they were done fighting Death Eaters and going on recruitment missions and worrying about the fate of society. Yet it was an attainable goal for someone else's future, a normal person's future, not a werewolf's future. What sort of job could he realistically hope for? Was the idea of steady work itself even realistic?
"Why not?" Sirius said, propping himself up onto his elbow to look at him. "Because you don't have a teacher case? We'll get you one. Problem solved."
Remus sighed. "Padfoot…"
"We'll get it personalized to say 'Professor Lupin' across the front. Very teachery." He flopped onto his back, as though this settled the matter. "Good night, Professor Lupin." He reached up and pulled the curtains shut around his bed, leaving Remus to mull the idea over as he changed into his pajamas and slid under the blankets beside Seven.
"He's mad," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips close to her ear. "I can't be a teacher."
"Of course you can." She laced her fingers through his and snuggled closer. "You'd be a great teacher."
He allowed himself to imagine standing in the Defense classroom again – his classroom. Then he pushed the thought aside and sighed, stirring little tendrils of her hair that had pulled free from her braid.
"You know why I can't be a teacher, Seven."
She rolled over to face him and rested her head against the pillow inches from his.
"You can't be a teacher now because you've got to do another job once you leave school." Even in the darkness, he could sense the determined expression on her face. "And, alright, the current laws and prevailing attitudes would make it fairly difficult for you to keep a teaching job. But that doesn't mean it'll be like that forever. The war will be over eventually, and laws change, and attitudes and prejudices change, although that can take a bit more time. But aside from all that, anyone who takes the time to get to know you can see that you'd be a brilliant teacher. So don't give me that rubbish, Remus Lupin."
She cupped his face, tracing her thumb along a thin scar on his jawline, then leaned in to kiss him. Her fingers were cool and gentle, her lips were warm and insistent, and he let himself melt into her touch. As they lay there together in the dark, with her hair tickling his neck and her words echoing in his head, he let himself believe she could be right. He knew he was only setting himself up for disappointment, but just for tonight, just for now, he gave in to the intoxicating pull of hope. He could use something to buoy him up through the mire of exam stress and post-Hogwarts dread, and besides, he was helpless against her indefatigable resolve. He drifted to sleep, smiling in her arms as he imagined that classroom with a Grindylow in a tank and that silly, personalized briefcase.
Friday, June 9, 1978
Lily stepped into the Potions workroom, breathing in the familiar scent of herbs and burnt potion and exhaling the stress of the day. She hadn't wanted to brew tonight, and had only agreed because a flurry of exam stress had depleted Madam Pomfrey's supply of Draught of Peace. Yet as she gathered her ingredients and heated them in the cauldron, a sense of calm washed over her, as though she had taken a dose of the potion simmering in front of her. For a few minutes, she forgot about N.E.W.T.s and the Order of the Phoenix and the latest bad news she had read in the Daily Prophet this morning. There was only her cauldron and the fragrant steam and the soft hiss as she poured in the syrup of hellebore.
The trance-like state was broken when she returned to the table to get her powdered moonstone and caught sight of a piece of parchment poking out of the hiding spot under the table. It had been ages since Severus had left her a note; she was convinced he had given up on continuing the friendship, and she alternated between relief and sharp, overwhelming sadness. Now she hesitated, debating whether to ignore the note or pitch it right into the flames under her cauldron, but she was far too curious for either of those options. Instead, she poured in the powdered moonstone and stirred until the potion returned to a gentle simmer, then snatched up the parchment and spread it out on the table.
Polyjuice Potion? Really, Lily? How fucking old are you? I'm surprised Slughorn didn't catch on, because that much boomslang skin doesn't just go missing for no reason. When I noticed what you were up to, I assumed you were going to give it to Potter so you could pretend you were shagging someone else who isn't a complete tosser, but turns out it was just one of those juvenile pranks your new friends are so fond of. Grow up. If you try to pull something like that again, I'm not bloody covering for you (unless you're giving the Polyjuice to Potter for the aforementioned reason, in which case I support you but would like to suggest you save yourself the trouble and just date someone else who isn't a complete tosser).
Her cheeks flushed as she read the note, the disdain tangible in his spindly, cramped writing. The prank was the sort of thing she and Severus used to make fun of years ago – they would have called it immature, unoriginal, a waste of time. Yet why should she feel bad about participating, when they had brought laughter and joy to students in desperate need of something to smile about? More importantly, it had brought joy to Lily and her friends and given them a needed distraction from the pile of stress their lives had become. Her embarrassment turned to anger as she reread Severus's last sentence, and she rummaged in her bag for quill and ink before she could talk herself out of replying.
Her quill flew over the parchment, gouging dark, angry letters below Severus's slanted, sneering words. Ink splattered the parchment and smeared on her hand, but she ignored it, scribbling until the hiss of the potion broke her reverie and she had to drop her quill to add more powdered moonstone. When she returned to the note, she read her tirade with a sense of grim satisfaction.
Call me immature if you like. I'd rather be known for pulling silly, harmless pranks than for hanging around Death Eaters in training and doing Dark Magic. I don't need you to cover for me, but it's nice to know you don't have my back just because you don't like my boyfriend. You grow up, Severus. It was a mistake to think we could be friends again. We're too different. Don't write me any more fucking notes.
She stared at the words for another moment, filling with a savage pleasure as she imagined Severus's hurt expression when he discovered the note. This was self-indulgence, because Severus was more likely to react with an angry scowl or apathetic dismissal. Still, she nursed her fury as she pictured his face crumpling before he crumpled the note, too, and set fire to it. Fueled by the comforting heat of her rage, she portioned out the finished potion and cleaned up her area, then stashed the parchment back into the hiding spot. As she scanned the workroom, checking for overlooked bits of ingredients on the floor or dirty equipment that needed washing, her eyes lingered on the hiding place where the parchment sat folded, waiting for Severus to discover it. For a moment she considered taking it out again to scrawl a hasty I'm sorry at the bottom of her rant, but she took a deep breath and clenched her fists. She couldn't do that. She wouldn't allow herself to.
Digging her nails into her palms, she gave herself another few seconds to grieve for the friendship she was throwing away – no, that was wrong, because Severus was the one who had thrown it away two years ago by calling her a Mudblood. A stab of guilt ripped through her when she remembered she had made no progress on her research for a lycanthropy cure – she hadn't even thought about it in weeks. Somehow this seemed connected to her failed friendship with Severus, because with their combined potions talent, they had a much better chance of getting anywhere than Lily did on her own. There will be time once I finish school, Lily told herself. I'll figure it out. I don't need Sev and his snarky little comments.
Heaving a sigh, she turned and marched out of the workroom, blinking back tears and wishing she could regain the feeling of pure, blissful anger.
Monay, June 12, 1978
The early morning sunlight filtered through the various leaves and vines, bathing the greenhouse in a warm glow. The smell of earth mingled with a sweet scent emanating from one of the flowers, and somewhere nearby a cricket chirped. One of the friendlier plants was wrapping its delicate green tendrils around Mary's leg, but she didn't mind. The atmosphere was too peaceful to risk ruining it by moving.
"I think this was the last place on our bucket list," Sirius remarked, pushing a strand of her hair out of his face. "We got it all done with time to spare. And Evans is always telling us off for procrastinating!"
"We never procrastinate when it comes to the important things." She trailed her fingers across his chest, giggling as the vine tickled her ankle. "How concerned should I be about the plant wrapped around my leg, by the way?"
Sirius lifted his head to peer at it, then settled back against the ground. "It's not poisonous – or at least, I don't think it is. It has excellent taste, though." He reached up and prodded another section of vine above their heads; it curled around his finger until he gently extricated it and returned his hand to Mary's waist. "I wasn't sure I'd like it out here, but the plants are sort of nice. And the lighting and everything…"
Mary grinned. "Does the romantic atmosphere make you want to confess your undying love for me?"
There was a sharp tug against her scalp as he yanked on a curl. "Sod you. If you start talking about feelings like that, I can find you a poisonous plant."
"Shut up – I'm only joking. I knew it would be nice in here at this time of day, though. Aren't you glad you got your lazy arse out of bed?"
She smiled as she remembered his sleep-tousled hair concealing his face as he grumbled and tried to fend off her attempts to wake him. It's too bloody early, Macdonald, he'd protested, until she convinced him she would make it worth his while to get up.
"I suppose this wasn't the worst way to start the day." He ran a finger along her stomach until she couldn't bear the teasing sensation and batted his hand away. "But I still don't know why you would ever willingly wake up that early."
She was glad he couldn't see her face as a flicker of worry marred her tranquil, satisfied smile. It hadn't been a desire to finish the bucket list that woke her, but her dark thoughts about the latest depressing news that Lily insisted on going on about. Her mind had whirled until she had shaken Sirius awake, desperate for a distraction.
"I told you, Peter was snoring, and then I couldn't fall back to sleep, and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to check the greenhouses off our list."
With a determined effort, she forced the unpleasant thoughts out of her mind, focusing on the soft lighting and the scent of earth surrounding them. She propped herself up on her elbow and leaned down to kiss Sirius, smiling as she noticed his hair was even more tousled than it had been earlier. The familiar pressure of his lips and the taste of his mouth drove away all her worries, until only joy and desire remained.
"You weren't wrong," he murmured, running a curl through his fingers. "Maybe I should listen to you more often."
"You won't, though." She loved this rare glimpse of vulnerability when he lay pressed against her, stripped of clothing and the invisible barriers he built to protect himself. Her finger traced the scar on his chest as she admired the distinct color of his eyes and the glossiness of his dark hair even when it was so untidy from sleep and other horizontal activities. She was reminded of her previous mocking comment, because the quiet tranquility of the plants and the sunlight was making her want to confess her undying love for him. He would scowl and accuse her of being sentimental, of course, so instead she kissed him again, putting all of her emotion into the movement of her lips and the tension of her fingers as she clutched his shoulder. Somehow she was sure he understood her meaning, because when she pulled away, there was a hint of the same emotion on his face.
"I'm a bit sad we've finished the bucket list," she said, changing the subject before she said something that would make Sirius uncomfortable. "It was fun."
"It really was." Sirius pushed himself into a seated position, brushing bits of dirt from his back. "You know, we could always add to the list. I was thinking it would be fun to break into Macyntire's office. I'd look good on his desk, wouldn't I? With my naked arse right where he grades his papers?"
Mary giggled as she sat up and picked a leaf from her hair. "We already did Dumbledore's office. Isn't defiling one teacher's office enough?"
Sirius tugged his t-shirt over his head. "That wasn't personal, though. That was just for the thrill. Macyntire's office would be to teach the arsehole a lesson."
"What lesson is that, exactly?" Mary asked as she untangled the vine from around her ankle before wriggling into her clothes.
"Don't be a fucking arsehole or students are going to shag on your desk," Sirius said, shrugging. "Come on, he'll probably be going down to breakfast right about now. We'll have just enough time."
"What, now?" Mary pulled her shirt over her head and raised her eyebrows at Sirius.
"Yeah, if you're up for it."
He bent to retrieve her shoe from under a table full of little yellow flowers and handed it to her, grinning. It was unfair, really, how irresistible that grin was, and how irritatingly aware Sirius was of this fact. It wasn't good for his ego for her to look at him this way, with such naked affection lighting up her face, but she couldn't help it.
"I'm up for it."
She slid into her shoes, then got to her feet and followed him out of the greenhouse, shivering as they left the warm, humid interior for the chilly morning air. Sirius lit a cigarette and passed her one, and they made the trek up the lawn, smoking and enjoying the weak rays of sunlight. There was a twig lodged in Sirius's hair, but Mary didn't remove it – she thought the disheveled look suited him.
When they reached the castle, they peeked into the Great Hall and scanned the staff table until they caught sight of Macyntire, seated beside Sprout shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth.
"Right, let's go," Sirius said, setting off for the staircase that led to the second floor. A few people were filtering down to breakfast, but other than that, the corridors were deserted. They came to a stop outside of Macyntire's office, and Sirius's mischievous grin grew as he pointed his wand at the door and turned the knob.
"He doesn't even have it protected against Alohomora," Sirius said, opening the door and taking Mary's hand to lead her inside. "What a prat."
The office held several bookcases with neat rows of books – Mary suspected they were alphabetized, or perhaps arranged by subject. The desk bore no decoration or clutter, or anything atop it at all, save for a pot of ink, an eagle feather quill, and a framed photograph of Macyntire shaking Harold Minchum's hand.
"Fucking git," Sirius said, picking up the picture and scowling at it. "Should I steal this so Evans can throw things at Harold Minchum's face?"
Mary crossed to the window and gazed out at the lake. "Then he'd know someone's been in here."
"So? I want him to know. I hope he comes in here and the whole room smells like sex."
Mary turned back to Macyntire's desk and watched Sirius place the framed photograph in a desk drawer before sprawling out on the desk and patting the empty space beside him.
"The lighting is just as nice in here as it was in the greenhouse," he said, reaching for her and tangling his hands in her hair. "But if you feel the urge to confess your undying love, try to hold yourself back, because this experience is all about being as filthy as possible in Macyntire's office. We don't have time to be sentimental."
She trailed kisses along his neck, smiling as she felt his fingers tighten in response to her touch. "I guess I just have to confess my undying love later, then."
Later they lay side by side on the smooth oak top of the desk, gazing up at the ceiling as their heartbeats returned to normal. Sirius's fingers brushed Mary's, just close enough to feel the heat of his body without actually holding hands. Footsteps and chatter drifted in from the corridor beyond, but the sound did nothing to shatter Mary's bliss.
"He'll be back soon," she murmured, rolling over to face Sirius. "We should go."
"Yeah, we should." Sirius turned to look at her, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "But don't move yet."
He peeled himself off the desk and hopped to his feet, then crossed his arms and gazed at her, his smile growing as his eyes traveled the length of her body.
"What are you doing?" she asked, brushing a curl out of her face.
"I'm taking a mental picture, Macdonald," he said, frowning. "I said don't move. Put that bit of hair back – it was sort of draped over your chest in a very pleasing way."
She giggled and rolled her eyes as she returned the strand of hair to its previous location. The hair tickled her skin, but she didn't dare brush it away again, because Sirius was tapping his fingers against his chin the way he did when he was concentrating, and she didn't want him to stop.
"I want to remember this exact image," he said after nodding in satisfaction and offering her a hand up. "So the next time the Prophet is bloody depressing and Evans won't shut the fuck up about it, I can think about you naked on Macyntire's desk."
She smiled, slipping an arm around his waist and leaning against him. "By the next time, you mean tomorrow, right?"
"Probably. But at least I'll have this mental image to distract me." He tickled her waist until she giggled and pulled away.
As she pulled on her clothes again, she thought about the unspoken meaning in Sirius's words. It's getting to him just like it's getting to me, she mused, studying Sirius's face with new understanding. She was suddenly even more glad that she had dragged him out of bed to huddle together under one of the greenhouse tables. He had needed it just as much as she had.
"I'm glad I have someone to do things like this with," she said, buttoning up her last button and watching Sirius lace up his boots.
He pulled the laces into a box, then straightened and ran a hand through her curls. "You mean things like shagging in the greenhouse or on Macyntire's desk?" He fluffed her curls again, tucking a strand behind her ear, then traced her jawline with his thumb. "I'm glad, too."
They stood facing in companionable silence, savoring the last lingering moments of escape before they joined the bustle of the rest of the castle. Words rested on Mary's tongue, sweet and heavy, begging to be spoken, and at the same time, begging to remain unspoken. She reached out a hand and pulled the twig from Sirius's hair, which somehow hadn't fallen out despite the hasty removal of clothes and the exertion that followed.
"Black," she began, but her words broke off when the door rattled.
They froze, staring at the door, breathing identical sighs of relief when nobody stepped through into the office.
"Someone must've bumped into the door as they passed by," Sirius said, grinning. "Come on, though. We'd better go."
They strode through the door, slightly tousle-haired and smiling like idiots, ready to face the day no matter what dismal news the Daily Prophet threw at them.
Tuesday, June 13, 1978
James stood up and stretched, then began tidying up his work area before filing out of the dungeons with the rest of the class.
"How was it, Prongs?" Sirius asked, lighting a cigarette as soon as they spilled out into the corridor and ignoring a dirty look from Bertram Aubrey. "Did you get a headache from craning your neck to admire Evans and the supposed adorable potion-brewing face she makes? Or did you manage to actually concentrate on brewing your potions?"
James shrugged. "A little of both, I guess." He took Lily's hand and flashed her a grin. "How was it for you, Evans? The most fun you've had all year?"
"Oh, shut up." She pushed a strand of hair off her forehead, and James noticed a few droplets of condensation had settled there when she stirred her steaming potion. "I did alright, I think."
James and Sirius exchanged looks and chuckled.
"Alright, my arse," James said, reaching over to wipe the dewy mist from her forehead. "I bet you got the highest potions score they've seen in ages."
She blushed, but James could see that slight quirk in her lips that told him she was pleased.
"You just think I'm the best because you're in love with me." She leaned over to kiss his cheek, then gave Sirius's shoulder a shove. "I know you were throwing beetle eyes at me near the end of the exam."
Sirius shrugged. "I got bored – what else was I supposed to do?"
When they reached the Great Hall, James loaded up his plate while he kept his eye on the staff table. As usual, the N.E.W.T. examiners were scattered among the teachers, and as James had suspected, the elderly witch who had proctored their Potions practical was chatting with Slughorn.
"I'll be right back," James said, slipping out of his seat and weaving around students until he reached the staff table.
"Hi, Professor," he said, flashing Slughorn a grin. "I just wanted to thank you for everything you've taught me over the years. I think I just managed an Outstanding on that Potions exam, and it's all thanks to you."
Slughorn puffed up with pride, which was saying something, considering he already took up quite a bit of space.
"Why, thank you, Mr. Potter, but really, the pleasure was all mine. You were a joy to have in class. You definitely have your father's sense of humor." He glanced at the elderly witch beside him and added, "This is Fleamont Potter's son. You know Fleamont, of course?"
She smiled and nodded. "Of course. He earned a near perfect score on the Potions exam. I've rarely seen another student earn a score like that. Although…" Her thin eyebrows darted up and her lips twitched into a knowing smile.
"I know you can't reveal any of the scores yet," James said hurriedly. "But I'm sure Professor Slughorn has told you about his best student."
He pulled up a chair that had been vacated by Professor Flitwick and sat down beside Slughorn.
"You know me too well, Mr. Potter. I did mention her," Slughorn said, chuckling and turning to the elderly witch. "Miss Evans, the one I told you to keep an eye out for."
The elderly witch set down her goblet and nodded. "Oh, yes, you did mention her. As you said, I can't say too much, but I will say that I was quite impressed with her skills. You should be quite proud of yourself, Horace."
Slughorn beamed and summoned the jug of pumpkin juice to top off his goblet. "Well, thank you, although I must admit I've done very little. She's a natural, a real natural. So much talent! It's a pity…" His voice trailed off as he glanced sideways at James and sighed. "Anyway. I'm sure she did very well. I wouldn't be surprised if her score was close to perfect."
The examiner's lips pressed together. "I really couldn't say."
James helped himself to a biscuit, taking a bite and studying the elderly witch as he chewed. "I know you're not supposed to say one way or another," he said, brushing crumbs from his mouth and leaning closer. "But just between us, did she beat my dad's score? I've got to know, so I can tease my dad about it."
The elderly witch frowned at him, then leaned closer and winked. "She did get one of the best scores I've ever given out. It was right up there with your dad's score, but I gave an almost identical score to another student in your year."
James treated her to a conspiratorial grin and promised to say hello to his dad for her, then bid the two of them goodbye and headed back to the Gryffindor table. He scowled as he recalled her words. He didn't need to press her to know she meant Snape. Well, he would keep that piece of information to himself for now. As far as he was concerned, Lily had earned the top score, no matter what the examiner had said.
"What was that about?" Lily asked when James slid into the seat beside her and leaned over to help himself to casserole.
"I was talking to that old witch who scored our Potions exams," he said, loading up his fork and taking a bite.
She heaved an impatient sigh. "I can see that, James. Why?"
He swallowed and grinned. "I was just discussing your near perfect exam score."
Her green eyes widened. "What? You're winding me up, James. I know they can't discuss specific scores until the results are released in July."
He ran a hand through his hair and admired the thrill of hope lighting up her eyes. It was adorable.
"She knows my dad. Apparently he also got a near perfect score. Best score she's given out in ages until you came along."
Lily smiled, the sort of smile that made James lose his train of thought and break off mid-sentence. She was so beautiful, so bloody beautiful, and he resolved to do whatever it took to keep her smiling like this. He didn't mind schmoozing with .T. examiners and using his dad's influence to get his way, if it meant he could watch her smile like this for the foreseeable future.
"Anyway, I just thought you should know." When she continued to stare at him, nonplussed, he nodded at the jug in front of her and asked, "Would you please pass the pumpkin juice?" She gaped at him for a few moments, then dropped her fork and threw her arms around him.
"What was that for?" James asked, his hand darting out to catch the pumpkin juice before it spilled into his lap.
"I love you," she breathed into his ear, her hand in his. "Thank you for having so much faith in me, and for going out of your way to make me feel good about myself, even if that involves coercing an N.E.W.T. examiner."
James grinned. "It's a small price to pay."
He watched her for a moment, his fork forgotten in his hand as he admired the slight flush in her cheeks and the smile that refused to fade from her lips. It was a ridiculously small price to put for this much joy.
"Are you two going to eat lunch, or just gaze longingly into each other's eyes?" Sirius demanded.
"Shut up," Lily muttered. She took a bite of casserole, chewing and swallowing as her smile persisted.
James returned to his lunch, his eyes still lingering on Lily. He knew Sirius would continue to tease him for this, but he didn't care. Lily was blindingly, dazzlingly happy, and that made everything worth it. Grinning, he poured himself more pumpkin juice and heaved a sigh of satisfaction.