Much to Guinevere's delight, Madam Pomfrey allows her to leave the hospital wing early the next day with the promise that she'll spend most of the day resting. Healing potions are not always an easy fix; they can take a lot out of a person and leave them groggy for hours, if not days to come.
Guinevere still feels sore, but she manages to drag herself to arithmancy, ancient runes, and astronomy without complaint. All three are classes that she genuinely enjoys, and no injuries are going to stop her from attending. Even when all her classes involve sitting for hours and those benches make her feel as though her bum is about to fall off, she refuses to skip class and rest.
Whenever she considers skipping a class, she just thinks about going home at the end of every school year to a world completely void of magic, unable to use it herself due to the laws on underage wizardry. She remembers how much she'd give to be back at Hogwarts attending classes, even the ones she considers to be boring. She has always sworn to herself that she wouldn't take magic for granted like so many pureblood students do, and that includes her classes.
By the time dinner rolls around, the soreness is slowly ebbing away and she has absolutely no problem sitting down on the cold, hard benches for the feast. Her friends all greet her with cheers, like she's some kind of hero coming back from war. She finds it ridiculous; it's not as if she was dying in the hospital wing. She just fell on her arse.
But she accepts their cheers nonetheless. There's nothing wrong with a little boost to her self-esteem.
"It's good to see you sitting without any difficulty," James says. "You guys should have seen her during astronomy. All I could hear was her seat creaking throughout the entire class."
Laughter spreads through the group when Guinevere chucks a small slice of potato at his face. James dodges with ease, his reflexes honed from years of dodging bludgers on the Quidditch pitch. Much to her horror, it flies past him and hits a Ravenclaw girl in the back of the head.
Guinevere immediately looks around at her friends, pretending to be absorbed in conversation when the Ravenclaw turns around and looks for the person who hit her. The look in her eyes is practically homicidal, and Guinevere is sure she doesn't want to own up to her deed.
Her friends barely stifle their laughter.
"Nice shot," Marlene giggles.
Guinevere rolls her eyes at her friend, her eyes flitting away from her. Seconds later, she does a double take.
Marlene, who had long raven colored hair only a day before, is now a bleach blonde with her hair chopped up to her shoulders. Guinevere's fork falls from her hand and lands on her plate with a loud clank.
"Marlene?" she asks. "What in the hell happened to your hair?"
Marlene frowns, clutching onto her newly short hair as if it's a comfort blanket. Guinevere instantly regrets her choice of words. Of course Marlene took it as an insult.
"You don't like it?" she asks with a crestfallen expression. "I bleached it last night with a quick hair charm I found in Beauty Tips For The Average Teenage Witch. Alice cut it for me. Is it really that bad…?"
Alice whips her head over to Guinevere, glowering at her as if to say "don't you dare".
Guinevere reaches over Alice to grab Marlene's hand, squeezing it and smiling at her.
"It's beautiful. It was just a shock, is all. But now that I'm getting used to it, I think it looks even better like that. Blonde really suits you, Marls."
Marlene gives her an appreciative smile and squeezes her hand back. Guinevere knows that the one thing Marlene wants more than anything else in the world is to feel pretty, something she has rarely felt in her seventeen years. She doesn't understand why; Marlene is gorgeous. But she won't begrudge her a few beauty charms to lift her self-esteem even slightly.
"I'm thinking of chopping off my own hair," Alice admits, running a hand through her dirty blonde locks. "Maybe a pixie cut? Aren't those popular in muggle style now?"
Lily and Guinevere nod their approval. Both girls regularly indulge in muggle beauty magazines, if for nothing more than to know what has gone out of style since they were last in the muggle world.
"I don't understand why it's called a pixie cut," Dorcas cuts in. "Pixies don't have hair."
Guinevere is eternally thankful that she has Lily to exchange an exasperated glance with when their pureblood and half-blood friends make comments like that. If only Remus was here to partake as well.
Speaking of the Marauders, Guinevere looks over at them to see the three remaining boys engrossed in a lively conversation. From the way Sirius has his arm flung over Peter's shoulder, she can assume it's about the mousy boy.
"This girl is a Hufflepuff, right?" Sirius asks. Peter nods his head vigorously, looking rather pale and nervous.
Well, more so than usual at least, Guinevere thinks.
"Win her over with some sappy sweet gesture then! Like chocolates or flowers or a tattoo of her name above your heart. I'd bet any girl in Hufflepuff would love that."
Peter squeaks his disapproval over the last suggestion.
"Don't listen to him, Pete," James insists. "You just have to play it cool. Be confident. Women love a man with confidence. Ruffle up your hair a bit too. They can't get enough of that."
Sirius snorts, reaching over Peter to give James a light shove.
"What would you know about being "cool"?" he jokes. "You wouldn't know cool if it threw you into the Whomping Willow."
James picks up his fork and uses it to point at Lily, who sits across from him, her eyes scanning her charms book.
"How do you think I landed her? My intelligence?"
Without even looking up, Lily deadpans,
"What intelligence?"
Guinevere and Sirius both cover the mouths to keep the laughter in. James sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if he's just been wounded.
"You only love me for my body," he jokes. Lily nods absentmindedly.
"About time you figured it out."
When their laughter dies down and James's words sink in, Guinevere and Sirius make eye contact with each other across the table. Both picked up on his choice of words and are grinning at each other like they've just heard the juiciest piece of gossip in Hogwarts history.
Love. He used the word love.
Sure, it was a joke, but Guinevere is sure that the word wasn't thrown out without feeling.
James looks back and forth at Sirius and Guinevere with furrowed brows.
"What are you two going on abou-…"
He trails off, his mouth hanging open as he seems to realize what it is he said. It doesn't take long for Guinevere to surmise that this is the first time James has said he loves Lily in any capacity.
Besides those god awful poems he wrote about her years ago, that is.
Lily finally pokes her head up from her book, taking in James's slack jawed expression.
"What's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a boggart."
James sputters out some words that sound like absolute gibberish to Guinevere. His face is rapidly turning a dark shade of red.
"He realized he said the "L-word"," Sirius supplies. He then slaps James on the back, getting him to cough like he'd been choking on something.
Lily raises an eyebrow, seeming more annoyed at the interruption to her reading than anything else.
"And? I love him too. I don't see why you're making a fuss about it."
If James looked like he was choking before, he looks like he's going into full cardiac arrest now. He clutches his chest as if he thinks he can force his heart to stop racing. Guinevere is concerned that he may actually collapse right there at the table.
"Y-Y-You l-love me?" he stutters.
Lily squints at him, taking in his frazzled appearance.
"Of course I do," she responds, as if it's the most simple thing in the world. "Do you not love me back?"
James shakes his head violently.
"No, no- I mean yes! Yes I do love you! I meant no as in I don't not love you. Because I do love you. Of course I love you."
Lily smiles softly and gives a small nod.
"Good. Then the matter is settled. We love each other and that's that."
She goes back to reading her charms book, and leaves James with the biggest, brightest smile Guinevere has ever seen on a person in her entire life.
The healing potion obviously didn't completely wear off completely like Guinevere had hoped, if her waking up on a couch in the deserted Gryffindor common room is any indication.
Madam Pomfrey warned her that grogginess can be a side effect of the potion, but she thought that since she had been active all day without any problems, she had been spared that particular side effect.
Apparently not.
Her exhaustion crept up on her towards dessert. It took all she had no to fall asleep into her treacle tart. The last thing she remembers is stumbling into the Gryffindor common room after dinner and laying down on the couch for what she thought was going to be a few minutes of "resting her eyes". As soon as her eyes closed, however, she was out like a light.
And now she's waking up to someone poking her in the cheek.
Her eyes fly open and she grabs onto the offending hand. When she scans up the mysterious hand and past the arm, she finds it belongs to none other than Sirius Black, who looks like he's just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and not on her fecking face.
Guinevere sighs in relief and releases her iron grip on his wrist.
"Sirius! You scared me half to death! The next time you do that, you won't be lucky enough to keep your hand afterwards."
He merely shrugs his apology, his ever present grin being a sign that he isn't really sorry. Not that she expected any different.
"You've been sleeping down here for hours," he informs her. "Someone had to wake you eventually. Just be glad it was me and not someone in a lower year. I'm sure they would have loved to test out some of the jinxes they've learned."
Guinevere rolls her eyes and grabs the pillow closest to her, smacking him in the chest with it. He chuckles and tosses it to the floor. Despite the annoyance she knows she should feel, she cannot stop a grin from spreading across her face.
Sirius extends his hand to her, which she takes without hesitation.
Guinevere has held hands with many a boy in her day. She usually finds the practice as a whole to be unpleasant. Most boys whose hands she's held on dates or in those awkward moments before a first kiss have had cold, clammy hands that she couldn't wait to let go of.
But the hands of Sirius Black are dry and warm. There's no shakiness or nervousness in his grip. It's firm, confident.
As it should be, Guinevere scolds herself. This isn't a first date. Of course he isn't nervous. You're just friends.
"Come with me," he requests, gently pulling her off the couch.
She allows him to guide her towards the stairs, assuming he'll be taking her to her dorm.
He turns towards his own instead.
Guinevere digs her heels down on the stone steps, nearly causing Sirius to topple back into her. He turns his head around and raises a questioning brow. She doesn't understand how he can lead her to his room and then somehow be confused as to why she's confused.
"Aren't your friends asleep?" she asks. He shakes his head.
"I'm the only one in tonight. The others have a previous engagement."
She has to purse her lips to keep herself from asking more questions as he leads her up the stairs and into his room. 'A previous engagement', huh?
It looks almost exactly the same way it did during Guinevere's brief visit the day before. Quidditch posters, Gryffindor flags, and pictures of all four Marauders are covering the walls. Some assorted objects tell her whose bed it is they're lying near; James has pictures of himself and Lily as well as what looks to be his parents above his bed, Remus has muggle novels that Guinevere knows he enjoys stacked on his nightstand, and Peter has daisies tied carefully at the stem on his.
He must have taken Sirius's advice to heart.
The only difference from the previous day she can spot is the scattered records, which are now neatly stacked on the floor next to the nightstand where the turntable resides.
"Why did you bring me here?" she asks, her eyes narrowed. "I'll have you know, if you try anything, I know hexes that will make the Cruciatus Curse seem like child's play."
It's an empty threat, and they both know it. Guinevere knows Sirius would never "try anything". Despite his many flaws, he's not that kind of wizard. But it's not in her nature to agree to something so easily, especially when it involves Sirius.
"On my honor as a Gryffindor, I promise no harm will befall you," he says, jokingly giving her a bow. Guinevere is glad his eyes are facing the floor; that way he can't see the smile on her face.
"I'm not supposed to be here. It's after hours. I should be in bed."
Her words sound forced even to her, but she feels compelled to say them. In these last few weeks, she has broken more rules than she has in all her years at Hogwarts. It's not a habit she wants to keep up.
Sirius hits her on the shoulder playfully, the way Guinevere has seen him do to his friends in the past. Her heart speeds up when she realizes that she's included in that group now.
"Why such a stickler for the rules, Guinevere?" he taunts. "Afraid a professor is going to burst in here unannounced and drag you off to the dungeons for being out of bed? You know, by 7th year, I think they just expect us to be in someone else's bed."
She decides to ignore that last comment of his.
"My best friend is Head Girl," she protests weakly. He snorts.
"And my best friend is Head Boy. Your point?"
He's got here there.
Guinevere finally gives in, letting her shoulders relax and her guard lower. Breaking the curfew is far too easy for her now. She's going to have to change that soon. Just not tonight.
"Fine, but my question still stands," she insists. "Why did you bring me here?"
Sirius flashes her a grin and walks over to his nightstand, his back turned to her. Guinevere stands on her tip-toes in an attempt to see what he's doing, but he's too tall. If the unmistakable sounds of a needle hitting a vinyl record is any indication, though, he's putting on an album.
After a few skipped beats that indicate the scratches of a well-loved record, music floods the room. Guinevere wracks her brain, trying to recognize the beat and the familiar sound of a synthesizer. When the singing begins, Guinevere finally realizes what song he's playing.
It's the new Bowie single, Heroes.
She can't deny the fact that she enjoys it. But the record came out after they left for Hogwarts this year. She's only heard it before because of a very lucky muggleborn third year whose parents sent her the record for her birthday. How did Sirius get it?
And more importantly, why is he putting it on for her?
Before Guinevere can ask either of those questions, Sirius turns back around and grabs her hand. The excited gleam in his eyes reminds her of a child.
"Dance with me."
Guinevere opens her mouth, trying to force out some excuse, but all that escapes is a faint breath.
She should laugh in his face. She should outright refuse. She should question his motives. Merlin, she should at least protest and insist she's never danced with someone before in her life; because she hasn't. Not counting horrid primary school dance classes, which she would much rather forget.
But you're already here, she reminds herself. You're already out of bed when you shouldn't be and you love this song and you want to dance.
Oh hell, why not?
Without a word, Guinevere guides Sirius's hands to her waist and places her own hands on his shoulders. There's still a large gap between them, but it's something. The smile he gives her could light up the entire Hogwarts castle for months, it's so bright.
He sways with her as the song continues.
'I, I can remember…'
Sirius grabs one of Guinevere's hands and raises his arm, giving her a twirl. It's clumsy and uncoordinated, but it's fun. She laughs as she nearly manages to trip over her own feet in the process.
'Standing, by the wall…'
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lifts her up into the air as if she's weightless. She squeals as soon as she feels her feet leaving the ground and hits Sirius on the chest in a half-hearted attempt to make him put her down. When he does, she feels a pang of regret deep in her chest. She wants to feel that weightlessness again.
'And the guns, shot above our heads…'
By now, they've abandoned their original conservative positions. Sirius now has his arms wrapped firmly around Guinevere's waist, while she has her arms wrapped around his neck so tightly that she fears she may strangle him. But if his flushed cheeks and breathless smile is any indication, that fear is completely unfounded.
'And we kissed, as though nothing could fall…'
Sirius spins them both around the room, his hands planted on Guinevere's back. She can feel his chest pressing up against hers, their legs gliding in synch, the way his abdomen twitches when he barks with laughter. She doesn't feel scared of intimidated by their closeness the way she expected to. The only thing that scares her is how natural it feels.
'And the shame, was on the other side…'
'Oh we can beat them, forever and ever…'
The two stop spinning only when they're too dizzy to take it any longer. Guinevere grabs a fist full of Sirius's shirt, resting her head on his chest to catch her breath. She can hear his heart racing. Despite its speedy pace, she finds the thump thump of blood flowing to be exhilarating. It's a precious reminder of the life that he still holds onto, despite the number of deaths and disappearances growing each and every day. She imagines her heart sounds the same way right about now.
If this isn't the definition of living, then she doesn't know what is.
'Then we could be heroes, just for one day…'
'We can be heroes…'
Guinevere closes her eyes and smiles into Sirius's shirt.
She's never been so happy to break the rules.
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! In all honestly, I've been a little disheartened when it comes to this story lately. It doesn't seem to be all that popular. But there's so many stories in the Harry Potter section on here and if I enjoy writing this story, then it shouldn't matter. So I'm going to continue! However, if you could leave a review, that would much be appreciated. Until next time!