Hello everyone! It's good to be back, to all of you five people reading this. I gotta admit, that's four more than I was expecting. Hope everyone is taking care and staying safe during the pandemic, and I'm so happy y'all seem to DOWN for this fic. That's the SPIRIT. I know some of the characters are going to be a little different (I think June was a bit too powered up in the last version - she seemed too good at a lot of things, if you catch my drift? But anyway), but I promise the essence is going to be somewhat the same.
Lots of love to all of you, and hope you enjoy this chapter!
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
You did not usually find the Marauders studying, but once in a while, Remus insisted. And because most of them wanted to keep on Remus' better side, they followed. At times. Sirius wasn't indulging any of his dreams of having all four of them studying, but he did have a letter from his uncle that he had wanted a little time to really study. As a rule, he didn't bother contacting his family too often. Sirius' uncle was good at keeping him updated on his mother's latest insanity, and it was a good way to keep an eye on his brother.
James was playing with a snitch that he had nicked from the grounds. Peter was the only one actually trying to do his essay for Potions, while Remus was putting finishing touches to a diagram for Herbology. Once he was done, he danced his pen on his finger and looked at Sirius.
"Sirius, do you have your Advanced Transfiguration? I've let Evans borrow mine," said Remus.
"What the hell?" demanded James, letting the snitch slip from his hands.
"She asked for it, James," said Remus patiently.
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Here," he said, digging through his bag and dropping a book on Remus' lap.
"Sirius? This isn't Advanced Transfiguration."
Sirius finally looked up from his letter. "What?"
"It's a novel. Jane Austen," said Remus, flipping through the book. "I haven't read it, but I think my Mum likes it."
"Isn't this the muggle author Lily likes?" asked James, his ears perked up. Peter nodded.
"Why the hell do I have a copy of it?" Sirius mused. He grabbed it from Remus.
Remus shrugged. "Do you remember buying a copy of Pride and Prejudice?"
"Terrible title," said Sirius.
Remus smirked. "It's a very famous book. Really popular."
"Still an awful title." He opened the book in question, and there, on the title page was an inscription:
Dear Sarah,
Love and argument go well together.
Yours,
Dave
"Who the hell is Sarah?" asked James.
"His girlfriend," said Peter instantly, a little gleam in his eye.
Sirius scoffed. "It's not my book."
"You must have exchanged it with someone. Is your transfiguration book missing?" Remus reasoned.
Sirius nodded. "I don't know any Sarahs, though."
"Sirius, you really are unbelievable," said Remus. "Sarah Freegood? She sits in charms?"
"What?"
"And Sarah Forester," added Peter. "She's a fourth year, though."
"How am I supposed to know any of these girls?" asked Sirius.
"Forester gave you a Valentine's card, mate," said James.
Sirius frowned. "Oh. Well, I still can't place her. I'll ask them tomorrow."
"Freegood's a Hufflepuff. And I think Forester is a Ravenclaw," added Remus.
"No Slytherins. Good," said Sirius. "Makes it easier."
"Dave's very thoughtful," sniggered Peter.
"Giving a girl a book is a bad decision," said Sirius sagely, flipping through the book. "She gets all sorts of ideas."
Remus snorted. "You have yours, James? Transfiguration textbook, I mean?"
Sirius wasn't listening any more. He had spotted too many notes and scribbles in the margin. The handwriting was kind of loopy and hard to read, but it looked very pretty. "Hey, what's this book about?"
Remus, with James' book in his hand turned to him. "I think it's a love story."
He didn't read a lot. Magazines sometimes, and textbooks for class – when things were really desperate. He had never really needed to study that much. And he had never acquired much of a taste for fiction. Anyway, the Wizarding world wasn't much when it came to imagination: his theory was that the last creative thing that had been thought of was Floo powder, and ever since then the society was overrun by insane people like his mother.
He hadn't really planned on reading whatever was in the book – but he was kind of interested in what the handwriting was saying. At times, it was only an underlined set of lines, and an exclamation mark on the side. At times, there were reams of poetry scribbled on the side. Someone had loved this book intensely, with no regard for who may or may not be reading it later.
There were… multiple handwritings, which was confusing him. One was the loopy slightly illegible one, which was predominant. The second one was slightly more legible: it was pretty in a different way, and kind of round and cute looking. In one place, with sharp capitals, someone had underlined the line "My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you on the subject will silence me forever." The handwriting on the side proclaimed:
HE'S DONE A BETTER JOB THAN I WOULD HAVE, SARAH.
Whoever this Sarah was, she was certainly just as much in love with the handwriting man – Dave? – as he was with her. Sirius wasn't… fond of this kind of thing. Romantic writing was not something he was particularly keen on, and nothing about this hero seemed desirable: he seemed in love with the heroine, to the point of saying some truly embarrassing things.
"Why would a man say any of this?" he asked rhetorically to the room.
Everyone in the dormitory looked up, confused.
"Romantic stuff," said Sirius. "These bits, here."
Remus peered into the book.
"Seems like the kind of thing a girl would like?" James offered.
Remus rolled his eyes. "Because everyone likes having nice things said, Sirius."
"But all of this is so… extreme," Sirius wrinkled his nose. James grabbed the book from him. His eyes travelled the page.
"You don't know what kind of relationship he shares with the heroine!" said James defensively. "Maybe he really loves her!"
Peter stood on his toes and read the book as well.
"That's stupid," said Peter. "No one should say that."
"Exactly!" said Sirius.
"I mean this is in the nicest way, Sirius, but if at any time you find yourself agreeing with Peter you know you are going to end up alone."
"Not if you end up with me, Moony," said Sirius with a wink.
Remus looked pink, but luckily it was dark. "Shut up, idiot. Return the book to the girl."
"It's not mine."
"What?" demanded Sirius.
"It's not mine," repeated Sarah. "And I know it isn't Sarah Forester's. This isn't her handwriting or her taste."
"How the hell do you know her taste?" he asked.
"I'm friends with her sister. She's more of a fashion magazine girl."
"Damn it," he said, leaning back on the chair. The girl sitting behind them – some blonde haired little thing – jumped back.
"Why do you care?" asked Sarah. She was pulling at her bag, taking her Charms notebook out.
"Feels like it's an important book to the owner," said Sirius. "Thanks anyway, Sarah."
"No problem, Black," she said. "Why don't you put up a notice or something?"
"Telling everyone that I have someone's book?" he asked. "Every single girl would be claiming it as her own."
"Then tell everyone that they have to return your textbook back as proof," said Sarah. She flipped through her notebook.
He frowned. "No, they might give me their own textbooks or something."
"You really have to think ahead," she said sarcastically. "Go ask Evans, then. She might know."
"Why would Evans know?"
"She knows everyone."
"This is far more trouble than it's worth," he said. "Over a stupid book where the boy is acting like a pansy."
Sarah scoffed. Even the small blonde girl looked slightly amused.
"What?" asked Sirius.
"You haven't read it," Sarah pointed out. "You don't know anything about Mr Darcy. And he's hardly a boy."
Sirius rolled his eyes. "That sounds helpful, Sarah. I should read the book!"
"It might give you clues, you know," she said. "You said the girl left writing all over, didn't you? It might give you an idea as to who it is."
Stupid. This was stupid.
Sirius wasn't going to read it. He wasn't!
"For fuck's sake," he murmured, and opened the book.
The first, horrible thing that he saw was a small heart next to the first line of the novel. It was a truth universally acknowledged, was it? he thought to himself savagely. Whatever, he was going to get through this tedium.
He looked up for a second, and remembered he was in the dormitory. He really didn't want to be walked in on by Remus or Peter or anyone else for that matter. He grabbed his bag – and to his own horror – headed to the library.
Madam Pince looked up in what he thought was a slightly judgemental stare. "What is it, Mr Black?" she asked, her voice clipped.
"Nothing, I just wanted some time to read."
She raised her eyebrows.
"You can keep this between us, can't you, Irma?" he asked charmingly.
She looked cross. She had a sharp, pretty face and her eyebrows were famous for having broken many hearts. Unfortunately, the only dates she seemed to accept were not from students. This left her mostly amongst the books.
"Leave by ten," she said, turning away from him.
"I love you!" Sirius called after her. She didn't turn back.
He walked amongst the shelves, trying to find a corner that he really couldn't be seen in. He saw someone sitting at most of the tables. Some of them were people he wanted to avoid. Some of them were girls in his fanclub that he didn't want to interact with more than necessary. When he finally found a table which was somewhat empty, he hesitated. The girl sitting at the table didn't seem concerned with what he might be reading – but she may be laughing behind his back. He had to risk it. The library seemed ridiculously popular around this time.
She was a blonde haired little thing – she looked somewhat familiar. She didn't look up when he sat down next to her. And then he peeled the book open. It was an old copy, he registered suddenly. Really, really old. Like fifty or sixty years old.
Either way. He was going to read this thing – he was going to read this girly book about two people who fell in love. With the little decorated hearts dotting the owner's favourite lines.
The business of reading is a lot like falling in love: it wasn't with any clarity of perception that reading pushes forward. At times, it happens on a dare, at times, out of necessity – but once you learned how to love reading, it was a little impossible to stop. Sirius didn't know many of his thoughts while reading the book, and he struggled through the difficulty of the language initially. He couldn't see anything too compelling about the characters, and he certainly could not invest himself more than necessary. What made him read further was not the strength of the story, the relationships of the characters, or the scoffing face of Sarah Freegood. It was the notes written in the loopy handwriting on the sides of the margins.
He did not realise when the blonde girl sitting next to him left. The words occupied him completely after a while – nothing else, really, registered. A lot like falling in love.
At times, the owner had only written the briefest things – small hearts next to lines she loved, or small question marks and exclamation points. And then at other moments, she had written, "Oh, he is so, so silly." And then at other times, "Courage comes so naturally to Elizabeth, I wonder if she never had to practice it as much as I did."
He frowned at the owner's writing as much as he did at whatever Mr Darcy was attempting by way of flirting. Her opinions on the characters were compelling enough to make him care about them, of course – but he was starting to wonder too often about her.
She had scribbled doodles in the side at times, of women in ball gowns and dresses, at parties. On empty sheets, she had done a rendition of what could only be the Netherfield Ball. He didn't fancy any of what happened at the ball, but to his own disgust he found himself waiting for Mr Darcy to ask Elizabeth to a dance. At times, the owner had written little snippets of poems, and then he really did frown. Where Elizabeth took to scrambling through the countryside for Jane's illness, she had looped her handwriting and written – and then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils.
In the margins of Elizabeth and Mr Darcy's first dance, she had written simply, To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love. And then where Jane's heart broke at Mr Bingley's abandonment, she had written almost a litany: if heartbreak is such a natural consequence of love, why do we even bother? Perhaps it is because women have to risk the heartbreak – it's necessary if they need any sort of financial independence. And men risk lesser when they risk heartbreak.
He frowned at this reader, who was spilling her thoughts on the sides of the book. It was grotesquely like watching someone fall in love. There were layers he was not understanding, and bits where he truly did want to roll his eyes and nothing more. But something about the writing was keeping him reading – it was like a compulsion he couldn't escape, even when it was nearing nine thirty and he had to go back to his common room.
Madam Pince removed him after a while. He was ashamed to say that she had to fairly kick him out, he was so engrossed. When he reached the common room, James looked at him up and down with a frown. "Where have you been?"
"Nowhere," said Sirius. "Leave me alone."
Remus shrugged. "You were missing since last class, Sirius.
"Yeah, well," said Sirius, uncomfortable. "We're not attached to the hip, you know?"
"Speak for yourself," said James. "I'm attached to the hip."
"That's going to help you get Evans," said Sirius sarcastically. "I'm exhausted. Going to bed now."
"It's ten o'clock," Peter said.
"Sometimes, a man's tired around ten for some reason," said Sirius, offering no other explanation. He went to his bed and as soon as he collapsed on the pillows he opened to Elizabeth's journey to the Collinses.
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