A/N: I'm sorry this is late! Uni, as anyone who has attended would know, has a way of ruining the best-laid plans. I hope this chapter proves worth the wait, however. Shoutout to The Last Time by Taylor Swift, Video Games by Lana del Rey, and Supercut by Lorde for getting me through the last push to get this done.
TW for lots of the usual: swearing, underage drinking, smoking, drug use, implied/referenced period-typical homophobia and misogyny, some slut shamey elements, and sexual references.
February 20th, 1976
If you had asked Severus about school quidditch on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, or even Friday, he would've said that while theoretically, it was an opportunity for the best athletes in the school to use their talent to support their house and bring pride to their follow members, in practicality it often featured the most arrogant, foolish students lumbering around on broomsticks in a desperate grab for attention and popularity, encouraging a boorish, irrational tribality to descend upon the competing houses, to be concluded with either an embarrassing fit of sullenness in the common room or a debaucherous, extravagant party which would decide the direction of the house for the next month, and as such was really more trouble than it was worth.
But if you asked Severus about school quidditch on Saturday, he would not have heard you, for he was immersed in a cheering, screaming crowd, which perhaps he was contributing to more than the weekday variant of himself would care to admit.
He stood between Rosier and Avery, the latter of whom had his face painted in green and silver. Almost the entire house crowded into the common room, and Severus could only just see above the heads of the fourth-year girls in front of them, whose backs were barely two inches from his chest. It was as hot and as humid as July amongst the ruckus. The Slytherin captain, a blonde seventh-year called Emma Vanity, stood on a walnut table in the centre in her green robes, fists raised high and brown goggles atop her head.
"Today," she announced, voice magically amplified, "we are going to win against Hufflepuff. We are going to blaze the trail to win the Quidditch Cup -" a cheer went up, "- and the House Cup for 1976!" The girls in front screamed, nearly bursting his eardrums, and the crowd began to jump and jump and jump until Severus had no choice to jump too, or else be crushed. Avery wrapped an arm around his shoulders and he flinched, but soon found that all the oaf wanted was to make him jump higher.
"SLY-THE-RIN!" the house chanted. "SLY-THE-RIN! SLY-THE-RIN!"
"Our seeker," Vanity started, reaching into the crowd. She pulled up a pale, haughty-looking boy who froze Severus' insides for a long, painful moment, "Regulus Black!" Cheers rung through the room. Of course, it was only Regulus, but for a moment – the brothers looked so very alike. But Severus could not hate Regulus because of an unfortunate corruption of his blood. It would be no better than judging Severus on the whoremonger who'd fathered him. He heard Potter's words in his mind once more and his heart roared in his ears. The rage burned so hot it made his head spin. He slipped out from Avery's grasp, scarcely able to breathe, and knelt to retie his shoelaces. The girls in front jumped up and down, and Vanity asked Regulus something about the match. Severus gazed at a sea of ankles, either poking out from robes or sheathed in green socks. He pulled violently at the laces.
'I'm not a fucking creepy little future Death Eater that wets his pants at the thought of getting to bash a muggle-born up all while wanking to one on the daily!'
It wasn't true. It wasn't. Severus had no desire to bash anyone but James Potter, Sirius Black, and the withering, black-eyed man who had broken a kitchen chair three inches from Severus' skull. His hands shook as he pulled his laces tight. And he – he didn't – he didn't allow himself to think about her that way. She was his friend. His best friend. And one day, she would see the sapling springing from their well-watered roots, and they would come together, but he could be patient. Nothing worth having came quickly. He would be patient, and she would stop quarrelling with him about stupid things, and he would wait, and she would open her eyes and see that he had been there all along. It would almost, Severus thought wryly, be worth inviting Potter to the wedding, though perhaps he would need to be bound to refrain from interrupting – he did love the sound of his own voice. The shock of not being universally loved might kill him. A pity, but Severus supposed he could stomach it. So long as it wasn't while they cut the cake. That would be liable to put the guests off their food, though Potter's continued existence could well do that too.
"Yes," said Regulus confidently, voice echoing from Vanity's proffered wand. It cut through Severus' thoughts. He stood back up. "There's no doubt that we will win." A girl in front screamed so loud that Severus had no choice but to whip out his wand and cast a Silencing Charm. Her mouth stayed open in a silent shout, and her hands flew to her throat. Good riddance.
"So today, you expect Wood to leave in tears?" Vanity asked.
"I suppose so."
Severus could not cast a charm large enough to save himself from the ear-splitting shrieks that followed.
After a good twenty minutes of shouting in the common room, the quidditch team left for the pitch and the rest of the house trickled down after them. Severus, by nature of the event, was swept up with Rosier and his younger cousin Crouch, but his mind could not have been further away from their idle chatter. As they crossed the mud-splattered grounds, his eyes fell on a group of students dressed head-to-toe in blue. Florence Diggory, the only girl in their year who had half of Lily's beauty, laughed musically; her blonde friend copied her sycophantically, and the female prefect with curly black hair hugged herself. Alongside them pranced Glen Vane. Severus' nails dug into the flesh of his palm. A blue cloak fluttered carelessly behind him, and the milky sunlight glinted off his dark, coiffed hair. James Potter would not be the only humiliated guest at his wedding; Severus supposed he could conjure another seat for the piece of pond scum that was Glen Vane.
"He's awful," said Crouch, looking in the same direction as Severus. Severus raised an eyebrow; he agreed, but did not understand what had allowed him to see the truth so clearly. Crouch shrugged petulantly. "He thinks he's so good, doesn't he? Even though his father's a muggle-born."
"There's more of them than you'd think," Rosier said ruefully, dark eyes slipping in Severus' direction. Severus' throat closed, a panic spasming through his arms.
"My father says it's maddening, how many good families will turn traitor for the sake of some muggle-born. They think because they have magic, their muggle blood doesn't matter so much," he improvised. Get your eyes off me!
"Mine would agree," Rosier said, side-stepping a puddle. "What does your father do, again?" Beneath Severus' socks in his drawer was a slip of parchment with scribbled, encoded words. He returned to it now, caressing it in his mind like it was his wand in a fearsome duel.
"He breeds insects for the apothecaries," Severus replied, biting down hard so his face did not colour. It was a humiliating lie, but when Malfoy had pitied him – taken a liking to him, for whatever reason, decided to be kind to a dirty, half-blooded first year – he had told him that it would be believable and most likely unquestioned. Nobody knew or cared about those who supplied ingredients for the apothecaries unless they were one of the prodigious herbologist families, but it was something a poorer pureblood could certainly do for work.
"That's right," Rosier said. "An essential job." He eyed the frayed hems of Severus' robes. Severus strode forward, refusing to look at him any longer. And besides, they were nearly at the pitch. Vane and his crowd poured through the gates ahead of them.
Severus, of course, sat in the Slytherin stands, along with Rosier and Crouch and their extended circle. Wilkes enchanted all of their robes to be impervious to the rain, should the heavens open up as they were threatening to do. Evan Rosier – another of Raimund Rosier's cousins – jumped down into Severus' row and began enthusiastically chattering away about the quidditch team's prospects.
"Lucy and I went out last night," he explained, smoothing down his hair, grinning. "And she was telling me that they sent Spudmore to watch the Ravenclaws train the other night, and Gamp's got them running Speelman drills, which is one of Emma's favourites, so Lucy thinks that the Ravenclaws are going to play dirty, you know, use our own tactics against us. And so I said to Lucy -"
"Your mind fascinates me," said Raimund. Evan winked.
"Of course it does." He whacked Raimund on the shoulder. "You should listen to me, you know, I'm imparting top-secret knowledge of deep quidditch intrigue."
"It's hardly 'top-secret' if your girlfriend's telling the world."
"Ah, you finally see it, I am the world." Severus was unpleasantly reminded of Potter, and edged away. "You sound bitter, cousin dearest, are you unlucky in love? Even Alfreck's got a girl now, soon he'll be trying to floo over you for the inheritance. Alfreck!" Evan turned and shouted, but the younger Rosier was missing from their group. He frowned. Raimund stiffened.
"Alfreck does not have a girl," he said quietly. Evan rolled his eyes, threw an arm around Raimund's shoulders, and reached out and grasped for Severus. Severus sat on the edge of the bench, leaning away, but Evan pulled him into reach and draped around him. Severus hunched, trying to slip away.
"Sure he does," said Evan. "They've only been caught snogging in every other corridor."
"Evan," Raimund said, voice laced with vulnerability. Severus' eyes narrowed, and he listened carefully, peering at the pitch in feigned interest.
"You're being picky," Evan said. "It's not as if she's some random mudblood. Just because your folks are miserable -"
"AND NOW HERE COMES THE RAVENCLAW TEAM! HERE'S PROCTOR, LIANG, GAMP, BELLCHANT, WILKES, DENVER, AND WOOD!" Evan flung himself up – out of the conversation and away from Severus – to heckle the Ravenclaws as they entered. Three-quarters of the stands roared with cheers, and Severus joined the other Slytherins in shouting at the team. The Ravenclaws formed a semi-circle in the middle of the pitch.
"AND THEN THERE ARE THE SLYTHERINS! MONTGOMERY, TALKALOT, -" Evan whooped. "- VANITY, PADGETT, MULCIBER, ABBOTT, AND BLACK!" Severus stood with the crowd as they bent over, watching the Slytherin team jog out from beneath where they sat to the middle of the pitch. The teams mirrored each other; the Slytherins had only two boys on their starting team, and the Ravenclaws only two girls. Severus supposed that much of the Slytherin boys, such as himself, were preoccupied with more important matters than school quidditch. They cared about the big issues. They poured their time into creating a better world, not tossing a ball around. All the same, it was good that the girls managed to be so talented; winning the Cup was quite nice.
Vanity and Gamp strode forward and met in the middle of the pitch. They shook hands, then returned to their teams to mount their brooms. Severus and the others had chosen good seats – they were at eye-level with the teams in their starting positions. Madam Hooch released the balls, blew her whistle, and the game began.
The Slytherin team played well. Each member seemed to know the game inside and out. Vanity moved at an incredible speed once she had the quaffle, circling the Ravenclaw chasers until Wilkes looked likely to be sick, and then expertly outstripping the beaters and their aimed bludgers to score the first goal of the match. Soon enough Mulciber intercepted a pass between Gamp and Bellchant and tossed it to Vanity, who broke away once more. Gamp flew after her, while Wilkes marked Mulciber and Bellchant blocked Padgett. They seemed to be expecting her to pass, but Vanity did not – she snuck around Gamp, dodged Proctor's bludger, and the quaffle sailed through the middle hoop once more. Liang fruitlessly spun after it.
Severus clapped loudly, while Evan Rosier jumped to his feet and cheered. Once the play started again, he reached into his robes and withdrew a vial of amber liquid.
"Firewhisky?" he offered to Raimund.
"No thank you."
"Snape?"
"No." He hoped that Evan's behaviour was not indicative of the rest of their house; whether they won or lost (but they would surely win), having a number of drunks about before they even reached the common room would condemn the afterparty to distastefulness.
Vanity ended up with the quaffle again, and Evan moved to the edge of his seat. This time, Bellchant and Wilkes did not cover the other chasers. Instead, they were hard on Vanity's tail, and Gamp swooped down in front of her, forcing her upwards. Bellchant pressed in hard against her, so close that they might have been –
"TOUCHING!" Evan roared, jumping to his feet. "HE'S BLATCHING, HE'S TRYING TO COLLIDE WITH HER! REF! REF, CALL IT!"
"Are they?" Raimund leaned forward.
"No," Severus said. Wilkes swooped around to Vanity's other side. The three Ravenclaw chasers appeared to be steering her. Severus craned his neck to see the Slytherin captain; she was all but hidden by a sea of blue robes. The Slytherin beaters, Montgomery and Abbott trailed on their brooms, their bats in their hands, but it was clear why they did not aim a bludger – it was virtually impossible to hit the Ravenclaws without the risk of clipping Vanity. Vanity tried to turn and Gamp flew in front of her. She quickly spun around and came face-to-face with Bellchant. She dove, and Gamp called out as Wilkes plummeted down with her. Denver, from Ravenclaw, smacked a bludger towards Vanity, and Wilkes laid flat against her broom, accelerating so quickly that she was now lower than the Slytherin. Abbott shouted, along with the Slytherins in the stands, and Vanity looked up in time to see the bludger that smacked hard into her chest.
Severus inhaled sharply, and Evan swore. Vanity held onto her broom, just, but the quaffle was lost. It fell almost directly in Wilkes' arms, who shot towards the goals. Montgomery chased the bludger and directed it at Wilkes, but Ravenclaw beater Proctor expertly deflected it. Padgett streaked after the quaffle, but he'd started late, and Wilkes took a shot.
"DEFEND, LUCY!" Evan screamed, jumping to his feet. Lucinda Talkalot lunged for the quaffle. It skimmed an inch past her fingers and arched into the left hoop. Ravenclaw secured their first ten points, and two-thirds of the stands cheered and danced. Almost directly opposite where Severus sat were the Ravenclaws, and amongst them was Glen Vane. A little relief cooled Severus' stomach when he realised that Lily was not there – the pair had not met up, not decided to spend their Saturday together. Perhaps already she knows she's mistaken, he thought, though that was terribly optimistic.
In twenty minutes, the Ravenclaws scored three more goals, and took the lead from Slytherin. Each time Wilkes or Gamp or Bellchant (for all three of them scored) got the quaffle through the hoops, Vane stood and clapped, smiling that ridiculous smile of his. It was as though someone had cut it out of a magazine and charmed it to his face. What did Lily see in him? Was she vapid enough to fall for his model-white teeth? No, Lily wasn't vapid. She was intelligent and witty and perceptive (though occasionally misled), and that was why he – why he liked her so much. He wouldn't have abided her friendship if she had been dim.
Ravenclaw scored again. The other houses were obnoxious in their celebration, their cheers grating on his ears. Evan now hurled abuse in Gamp's direction. Vane clapped neatly, like some sort of prince, and an iron-hot rod burst against Severus' sternum. He curled his upper lip.
"Excuse me," he said, standing, sweeping his black robes as he rose. The Rosiers looked up at him.
"Are you alright?" Evan asked. "Don't go, if anyone can turn it around, Vanity can. Lucy was telling me -"
"I'm fine."
He descended down a short flight of stairs to a walkway below, and followed it round the perimeter of the pitch. Slytherin had possession of the quaffle once more, and Padgett ducked past Bellchant. Severus soon left the Slytherin section of the stands behind, passing by the parents' section of the stands. He took their measure from the corner of his eye. Parents and grandparents draped themselves in their former house colours, or the house colours of their children, some with flags. Two small children squirmed behind a banner proclaiming, 'SLYTHERIN TO VICTORY'. For a fleeting moment, he wondered what it would be like to have your parents show to see you play quidditch. To make a banner for you. He forced the thoughts from his mind. There was nothing to be gained from such ruminations. He was not a simpering coward who needed his parents to shout support like common hooligans; he did not need them at all.
He strode past the families and reached the Ravenclaws. Vane sat four rows up between Florence Diggory and an older Ravenclaw prefect, whose name Severus thought was Moult. Vane clapped obnoxiously every time a Ravenclaw player managed to stay upright on their broom, as if the possession of rudimentary abdominal muscles was a modern miracle. Diggory's blonde friend was even more surprised by human development than he was, and when the quaffle missed Bellchant's outstretched hand by a foot, she cried out, "Oh! That was close!"
Anyone who called Ravenclaw the clever house was sorely mistaken.
Severus passed the front row of first-years and started up the wooden stairs. Fortunately, the Ravenclaws were not ludicrously ostentatious, so he only needed to sidestep a handful of flags or stuffed eagles. At the end of the fourth row, a chain of uncertainty bolted tight around his heart. Vane and his army of sycophants were only Potter and his mates with higher marks and different bedcovers. He thought it unlikely that Vane would hex him, but all the same, who knew what he would say about Lily? There were some things Severus did not think he could bear to hear. But if didn't approach, if he didn't ask, if he didn't do whatever he could to intervene and stop this misalliance at its point of seed, he would never forgive himself. After all, this wasn't just for him, it wasn't selfish; it was for Lily. He had to do what was best for her, even if it was difficult.
That was what you did for your best friend. That was what you did for someone you couldn't live without.
He made his way down the aisle, sucking in his breath to avoid touching the students that lined the seats.
"I can't see," one boy moaned, nearly flattening the girl beside him to look past Severus to the pitch. Severus trod on his foot.
The first of Vane's retinue he reached was the other Ravenclaw prefect for their year, somebody Meadowes. She gave him a reproachful look and slid as far back from him as possible. Then there was the annoying blonde, and Diggory, who frowned and then quickly replaced it with a smile as false and as perfect as Vane's. Severus pulled at his collar as he stopped, one foot in line with hers and the other in line with Vane's.
"Oh?" Vane turned his attention from the game to Severus, and in an instant seemed to size him up. Severus felt about an inch tall. "Oh! Snape, isn't it? You're Lily's friend?" Each word fell like a glancing blow. Vane extended his hand not for a slap but for a shake. His wand was nowhere to be found. He was supposed to be quarrelsome, quick-tempered, slow-witted, and full of self-importance. He was supposed to have a number of sins Severus could treatise on, sins that Lily would awake to and wonder how she could have been so blind, were it not for Severus. But instead his handshake was firm but not crushing, warm with life but neither hot nor sweaty. Severus' nerve buckled. Vane, Diggory, Moult, the blonde, and Meadowes stared at him, and the February chill flushed his neck with the scorch of summer.
Vane smiled again. "Are you enjoying the match?" he asked loudly and slowly, as if he thought Severus was deaf or slow or both. Invisible irons clamped around Severus' ankles, and he felt as if they were going to drag him through the stands to the grass hundreds of feet below.
"Ineedaword," he blurted out. He cursed internally. Why had he spoken like a simpleton? Diggory smirked and exchanged a look with the blonde. Vane kept his perfect, gleaming façade.
"Pardon?" Vane said. Severus could not run now. He tried to steady himself and tugged at his collar again, where it itched against the heat of his neck.
"I need a word," he managed stiffly.
"Oh. Alright. Well then." Vane stood and brushed off his robes, apparently entirely unbothered by the request. This further unnerved Severus. "Flo, do you mind minding my things?"
"Not at all," she answered, patting his small bag. Severus stepped back to allow Vane into the aisle.
"Ah, thank you. Do tell me what happens when I get back." He looked to Severus. "I'm assuming you'd like to speak privately? Do you want to lead the way, or shall I?" Severus did not know where to go. He hadn't thought that far ahead. A stupid blind spot.
"I can," he said, nevertheless, and started for the stairs. He relied on the Ravenclaw stands being laid out the same as the Slytherin stands, and he was fortunate in that the original architect had been wholly uncreative. A long flight of stairs descended into the structural parts of the stands, ultimately leading to a gate at the very bottom through which spectators entered and left. Given the match was currently underway, the stairway was abandoned, and they were far enough down that they could not be overheard. As Vane met up, Severus withdrew his wand and very subtly cast the Muffliato Charm; it couldn't hurt.
Vane folded his hands together and looked expectant. Severus swallowed.
"I know about you and Lily," he said, finally. Delight lit Vane's face.
"She told you?" Severus stared at him. He appeared awfully pleased. His smile was uglier but truer, too, almost shy. For a moment he seemed to be a real person, not a doll dressed in school uniform. His blue eyes met Severus' and he had to look away. Fool, Severus thought. Looking away before you speak, people are bound to think you're lying. He forced himself to lift his head and returned Vane's gaze.
"Yes," he said. He could hardly say that he had seen them by the lake, lips on one another's.
"Does she -?" Vane stopped himself. "No, I couldn't ask you to betray her confidences. I just – I haven't known what to do. If she's cross with me, or…"
"Cross?" Severus could not help it. What reason did Lily have to be cross with Vane? Had they argued? He rapidly concocted a scene where, moments after he had left, Lily had pushed Vane away and drawn her wand. "Don't touch me!" she'd cried, wand at his throat.
"What? Why?"
"I…" And Lily had hesitated, unable to speak the truth of what lay in her heart, barely realising it herself. "Just don't." And then the memory of their meeting in the library blossomed; her fingers on his cheek, a tender touch. His face burned with the imprint. "It got you?" Looking away: "What I don't want is to fight with you." In that glance down the aisle, she had concealed something, he was certain. Had it been that feeling she'd had by the lake? Or the sapling finally poking its head out of the earth, after growing roots for so many years?
"We haven't…properly spoken about it," Vane said. "I don't know if – well, we studied together the other day, but I don't know if she wants what I want. And I want to give her time, as much as she needs, so I don't want to ask, but…" The strangest expression grew on Vane's face. Pleading. Severus had something he wanted – or, Vane believed Severus did, which was truly all that mattered. Severus had the upper hand.
He could skirt close to the truth – that he and Lily had not once discussed it – and tell Vane that he didn't wish to pass on what she'd told him in private. He could tell Vane that he really ought to talk to her himself. Alternately, he could tell Vane that she loathed him. That she was disgusted by him. That every time she thought of the kiss, her skin crawled, that she'd cried about it to him, that she'd laid her head on his shoulder and sobbed. He could tell Vane she was madly in love with him but couldn't come to face it, just to watch him make a fool out of himself. Or he could say what he thought likely approximated her feelings.
"About the kiss?" Severus asked.
"About – all of it. It meant something to me. I don't kiss girls for the sake of it," Vane said. So he didn't deny it. Kiss girls…how many? How far down the list was Lily? In what world was Lily only a third, fourth, fifth choice? Anger bloomed in Severus' veins, but he took a deep breath.
"She thinks you're great," Severus said, staring at the ceiling, teeth gritted. "But she doesn't know if she likes you. She wants to be certain." He forced himself to look at Vane, who seemed to think over his words.
"And what do you think?" Vane asked. Don't ask me that, Severus thought, eyelids fluttering. He turned away, stepping onto the stair below. "Oh. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Severus did not look at him.
"I – well, I never gave the rumours any credence, you know what the Hogwarts mill is like." Vane chuckled. Severus stiffened. "I can't blame you. She's amazing, isn't she?"
Severus' breath caught between his ribs. "I don't know what you're insinuating."
"Snape." Said almost gently. Severus flung around to find Vane on the descent towards him. "I don't want to tread on your toes, I don't, but – well, I'm not going to not do anything either. But you two are good friends, aren't you? I'm not one of those jealous sorts, I'm not going to – forbid her to spend time with you or anything. If she even likes me."
"Forbid her?" Severus said dubiously. "No, you won't. If you think you could have any bearing on what Lily does or does not do, you're a fool."
Vane only smiled. "Snape."
"I came here to tell you that you aren't good enough for her, and you never will be. She might be willing to entertain you but it's a waste of her time, and if you cared about her, you'd let her go on without you." Vane laughed, and Severus reached for his wand.
"As you said, neither of us can forbid Lily from doing anything. I'll stop hanging out with her when she asks me to," Vane said. "Snape, I know that you have feelings for her, but that doesn't mean we have to dislike each other."
"I don't like her!" Severus shouted, and the pulse of rage that burst through his body channelled through his wand and singed a wooden beam. "Do not presume to tell me how I do or don't feel when you know nothing!"
"Put your wand away," Vane said, stepping back. Severus brandished it.
"Are you frightened?" he taunted. "I thought they said you were clever."
"Snape?"
Another figure came down the stairs, wand drawn, fair hair tousled; it was Evan Rosier. Vane turned slowly, now stuck between the two Slytherins.
"Prefect giving you trouble?" Evan asked, indicating the badge pinned to Vane's chest. "Never liked them much, myself. Don't tell Wilkes." He tapped his nose.
"Really," Vane started, "we were having a perfectly civil conversation. I don't know why it's escalated."
"I heard shouting," Evan said, leaning against a post. He fingered his wand and Severus took a deep breath. As much as he longed to hex Vane, the moment a spell even grazed them, he would be writing them up, and to lose points was to lose respect.
"He's a swine," Severus said, storming past Vane to meet Evan.
"I don't want you to hate me! I don't understand you!" Vane entreated, chasing them up the stairs. Severus grabbed a fistful of his robes and lifted so he didn't trip, hurrying up the staircase.
"Leave him alone, Vane, don't you have a team to watch lose?" Evan spat over his shoulder. He and Severus reached the first level of the stands, and started along the walkway.
"He wanted a word with me! I didn't abduct him from his seat!" Vane called, but as Severus and Evan went on he did not follow.
"Ravenclaws," Evan said, shaking his head. On the pitch, Talkalot blocked the quaffle with the end of her broom, whacking it in Padgett's direction. An angry roar echoed round the stadium, and the Gryffindors got to their feet. Padgett flew down the pitch. The Gryffindors howled angrily as he dodged a bludger and passed to Mulciber. "Why were you talking to him, anyway? Was my company not illuminating enough?"
"TALKALOT IS A GREAT BIG SLAG!" The Gryffindors began to sing, in perfect harmony. "OH, SHE'LL DO ANYTHING FOR A FAG! A COMET ISN'T THE ONLY THING SHE RIDES! YES, WE'VE HEARD STORIES FROM LOADS OF GUYS!" Severus' upper lip curled. Childish and chauvinistic; what else could one expect? Mulciber fumbled the ball and it plummeted, but Bellchant scooped it up.
"I don't trust him," Severus said frankly; he did not expect Evan to take more than a passing interest in the whole affair, and did not see how his knowledge of Severus' dislike of Vane could do any harm. "He's been meddling where he ought not to. Taking advantage of someone."
"PADGETT IS A GREAT BIG DICK!" The Gryffindors continued. A few crimson-clad students scurried into the sea of blue that was the Ravenclaw stands. "OH, THE SIGHT OF HIS MUG, IT MAKES ME SICK! TALKS LIKE A WEASEL, HAIR SLIMY LIKE A SNAKE! YES, HIS BRAIN'S SMALL AND HIS WAND IS FAKE!"
"Poor Padgett," Evan said. They passed by the parents' stand. Some covered their mouths with their hands; others laughed appreciatively. "I take it he's moving in on your territory? If anyone's going to take advantage of whatever this situation is, it should be you, because I like you more."
"I'm not taking advantage," Severus said. He couldn't fathom doing such a thing to Lily. Not ever. He would have preferred to spend all his life waiting for her than to press an advantage when she was vulnerable.
Some of the Ravenclaws joined the Gryffindors, and fifty voices cried out from behind Severus and Evan. "MULCIBER IS A GREAT BIG CRYBABY! OH, HER HAIR'S LONG, BUT SHE'S NO LADY! SHE'LL KNOCK YOU OUT WITH HER GREAT HANKER! PERSONALLY, WE THINK SHE'S A WANKER!"
"I suppose being honourable can win you points with girls," Evan acknowledged.
They reached the Slytherin stands, where Evan frowned and Severus looked sidelong at him.
"I never said it was about a girl," Severus said, stepping onto the wooden stairs behind Evan.
"Do you shout like that about anything other than girls?" he asked absently. Severus thought of Remus Lupin, and of Michael Hoover, who was infuriatingly useless at the one job he had been tasked with, and of James Potter's obnoxious grin (because that was not only about a girl, and it never had been. It was about everything).
"Yes."
"Oh. Right. But it was about a girl this time, wasn't it?" Raimund had vanished from where he and Severus had been sitting, but the younger Rosier boy – the one in the year below – sat in his place, looking gloomy. Evan took the seat beside him, and Severus followed suit. The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw chants grew louder than ever as Abbott received a bludger to the shoulder and began spiralling towards the grass.
"VANITY IS AS VAIN AS HER NAME! OH, WHEN HER TEAM LOSES, SHE WON'T TAKE THE BLAME! LOSER, SNITCH, WITH A FROZEN HEART! YES, SHE'S AS THICK AS CUSTARD TART!"
"Merlin's buggering beard," Evan said. "Alfie, you've got parchment, haven't you?" The younger Rosier nodded and wordlessly handed a slip of parchment, a quill, and a travelling pot of ink over. Evan dipped and began to write. Severus watched the words form with some interest. Fourteen lines later, Evan duplicated the parchment several times, and sent them flying across the Slytherin section of the stands. Students grabbed them from the air with furrowed brows. Evan jumped onto his seat.
"GAMP, YES, HE'S SIMPLE!" he began. "BACK RIDDLED WITH PIMPLES! CAN'T LEAD A TEAM, CAN'T SCORE A GOAL, MIND LIKE A GOBLIN, ONLY HALF AS TALL!" Abbott was escorted from the pitch towards Madam Pomfrey as Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and none other than Warren Avery came out to replace her. Evan cleared his throat loudly and continued, and some of the other Slytherins joined in. The younger Rosier hesitantly; Severus quietly. "DENVER, YES, HE'S FLAMBOYANT! LEAVES ALL THE GIRLS DISAPPOINTED! CAN'T HIT A BALL, CAN'T DEFEND, HIS OWN FATHER THINKS HE'S A RIGHT BELLEND!"
Avery raced Denver to the nearest bludger, and at the sound of his name, Denver looked to the crowd and got distracted. Avery smacked the bludger across the pitch and it clipped Wood, who had shot upwards, hand outstretched. The crowd gasped.
"WOOD, YES, HE'S A COCK-UP!" Evan sang, jumping down two verses. "A LOSER WHO FUCKS A LOT UP! CAN'T WRITE HIS NAME, CAN'T GET THE SNITCH, DENT IN HIS HEAD 'CAUSE HE WAS BORN IN A DITCH!"
Regulus Black powered upwards on a broomstick that flashed gold in the weak sunlight. He easily caught up to Denver and laid down on his broom, which was flying almost vertically. He stretched his arm as far as it would go, and the snitch's wings glittered only six feet ahead. The Ravenclaws put their heads together and the Gryffindors, uncharacteristically, lapsed into silence.
"THEY SAY HIS MOTHER WAS IN BED WITH HER COUSINS," the Ravenclaws started, "THEY SAY HIS DAD'S ON HIS BACK! THEY SAY HIS BROTHER'S GONNA MAKE HIM SUFFER, THAT'S THE TALE OF REGULUS BLACK!" The seekers were almost equal in the sky. Beneath them, Vanity raced up the pitch with the quaffle under her arm, and passed it to Mulciber as a Denver smacked a bludger towards her.
"WOOD, YES, HE'S A COCK-UP!" Evan started again. "A LOSER WHO FUCKS A LOT UP!" Vanity threw the quaffle through the middle hoop at the end of the pitch, and Slytherin gained another ten points. They broke from song and cheered.
"THEY SAY THE BLACKS RUN CRAZY!" The Ravenclaws continued, beginning a second verse. "THEY SAY THE BLOODLINE'S UNDER ATTACK! THEIR FITS AND DELUSIONS, BRING FORWARD THE CONCLUSION, THAT IT'S A SORRY TALE, REGULUS BLACK'S!"
"No!" The shout came from the pitch. Black pitched forward and closed his fist around the golden snitch, and the stands exploded. Even Severus jumped to his feet, clapping and screaming, and he caught sight of Vane across the pitch, shaking his head.
"See," Evan said, leaning down to whisper in Severus' ear. "Don't mind a Ravenclaw. We have the advantage every time, alright? As long as we stick together, we've got power. Slytherin is power."
And Severus would not sleep that night for that thought.
February 22nd, 1976
"It's because we're putting love into it," Alice informed them cheerfully, flicking her wand and levitating a large pink banner. Alice was nice, and usually responsible, and had never been cruel to Remus, but at that moment he never wanted to see her again. You have non-verbal magic, he thought grumpily, and two years on us, of course it's not as hard for you. He felt rather as he had in their flying lessons in first year, when James and Sirius had flown circles around his head, beaming from ear-to-ear, having an excellent time and not understanding why being stuck on the ground, watching everyone else enjoy themselves was not especially motivating.
"Yes," Lily agreed, leaning against the Gryffindor table, "I think having a bunch of indentured servants doing all the decorating wouldn't be as heartfelt." She rolled up her sleeves. Despite the rain that stopped only a few feet above their heads, the roaring fires in the hearths warmed the Great Hall considerably, and the magic they were doing was hard work. Remus folded his arms across his body, drumming his fingers against his sides.
Alice used a Sticking Charm on the banner to fix it above the fireplace and then tucked her wand into the top pocket of her robes. She raised her eyebrows at them.
"We all decided to put this on," she reminded them. "You're not being tortured." They regarded her silently, except for Frank, who put his arm around her. She smiled at him and then looked back at the rest of them. "Look cheerful tonight at least, alright?"
"I'm looking forward to it," said Marcus plummily. "It is, after all, for a good cause." He made a funny little hand gesture that Remus could immediately imagine Sirius mimicking, face twisted in a devilish grin. He'd copy it perfectly, even down to the constipated expression. He had a knack for emulating the very pretentious. Maybe it was personal experience…he smiled to himself.
"See!" said Alice, pointing at him, and Remus suddenly returned to his sombre disposition. "If Remus can manage a smile, so can the rest of you." Lily smirked at him. Remus caught her eye and clenched his jaw. "Alright, go have lunch, be back by two."
The six of them left the Great Hall, and Alice used the keys the Headmaster had given her to lock the doors. They went their separate ways and Remus paused at the top of the Marble Staircase, thinking. He hadn't known when he'd be released from Alice's dance-preparing grasp, and hadn't organised where to meet his friends. If only they had the map ready – but even then, he supposed, he'd be out of luck. They didn't exactly have a timetable for the weekends. If there was some sort of tracking spell…
He took a guess and headed towards the common room, not far behind Laura Vickers. On the fifth floor, someone grabbed him by the sleeve, and before he could pull out his wand, he was looking into the laughing face of Sirius Black.
"Did you sniff us out?" he asked, letting go. Remus brushed himself off. Sirius started down the corridor merrily, and Remus followed.
"You've seen Dale?" Sirius smelled of thick cologne and cigarettes, but not of pot.
"No. I meant your special werewolf skills." Sirius tapped him on the nose. He also smelt of whisky and tequila.
"I'm afraid my 'special werewolf skills' are limited to being unemployable and sleeping for several days at a time," Remus said. Sirius shrugged.
"Ah, a true shame."
James and Peter awaited them in an unused classroom, laying on cushions on the floor with a rainbow of sweets and alcohol in front of them. James tossed a cushion at Remus, who sat down and crossed his legs.
"Did you have fun?" he asked. Remus looked at several empty bottles.
"Not as much as you," he said. James laughed.
"We need liquid courage," Peter said, swigging from his Grindylow bottle. "I still have to ask a girl. Sirius reckons the next one that comes up to him, I ask her, and if she's asking today she'll be really desperate, so she'll say yes." That was almost as depressing as the thought of a full moon, or spending two more hours this afternoon inflating candy floss balloons.
"You can do the same," Sirius said, lounging on a full-sized pillow that Remus figured was probably from the dormitory.
"Aren't I lucky?" Remus muttered. Sirius passed him his flask. Remus hesitated, thought of the Great Hall and the further decorating awaited him, and promptly swallowed. It burned only a little, and it was nowhere near enough to impair him. His stomach clenched, and he devoutly hoped that no girl in the castle was still being left lonely. Surely, by now, everyone that wanted a partner had found one? But then, Peter had not. Remus just couldn't picture standing in his best robes under a grey canopy of clouds, shuffling in circles while holding some random girl's sweaty hands. Couldn't he be a chaperone? Surely someone needed to stand guard to make sure nobody's snogging got too excited. He could dedicate himself to that cause. It was no different to what he had to put up with on patrols.
"How do you expect girls to come asking after you if you're up here?" Remus asked Sirius, returning the flask. "They don't even have the map that we do." And that map still couldn't show where they were at any moment.
"Well, we're not staying here all day. We were just waiting for you. Then we're heading down to the grounds," James answered, as Sirius drank. Remus bestowed a sceptical look upon them.
"It's February. Who's going to be gallivanting around the grounds in this weather?"
Hordes of girls clustered beneath the trees that spotted the wet hill just beyond the doors to the Entrance Hall. They sat on bewitched picnic blankets that radiated warmth, or else stood in thick cloaks examining magazines or inspecting their reflections in enchanted mirrors, which sometimes spoke back to them. Sirius stopped a moment before crossing the threshold into the outdoors, and swept back his dark hair, running his fingers through his silken locks. His grey eyes were nothing like the grey slush of the sky, but instead seemed to be smoking silver, like a blade fresh from the forge. His face was carved from liquid moonlight. He lit a cigarette and slipped it between his lips like a promise. Every girl in Britain would want to feel the vice-grip of his mouth around their body as it was around that damned cigarette. He was the kind of handsome that could devastate a continent and ravage a star. His slender fingers, tipped with nails as long and round as a girl's, tugged the cigarette away, and you knew instinctively that to be touched with the same tenderness by those same hands would be to burn up and die.
Remus felt ill. How had he doubted that another thousand girls could ask Sirius to the dance today? And a fire boiled the contents of his stomach so fiercely that he was forced to reckon with its harbinger; he was jealous. It was strange. He didn't want a girl to do so much as look at him, but knowing that they would all be looking at Sirius…he wanted to tear something in half. Did he just want the option of having that adoration? Was there something deep down inside of him that secretly craved the eyes of a girl? He felt uneasy within his own heart.
Sirius returned the cigarette to his mouth, from which it dangled lazily, adjusted his dragonhide cloak, and swaggered through the open double doors onto the drive. James followed closely behind, then came Remus and Peter. Much as Sirius had predicted, girls began to look up, peering over the tops of glossy pages or the gold rims of mirrors. Sirius did not look directly at a single one – the fire in Remus' stomach lost some of its heat – but instead turned around and started walking backwards, grinning at Remus, which made him lose the bottom of his stomach entirely.
"You know," he said, quite loudly, "I just keep thinking about the dance tonight. To make it to today and not have a partner…It's a worry, isn't it?" He flicked his gaze to Peter. Remus recognised what he was doing at once. Sirius was not lying, but he was certainly choosing his words carefully. There was no confirmation, but you could be led to think…
A group of Hufflepuffs dissolved into conversation. Sirius glowed triumphantly and slowed, waiting for Peter, Remus, and James to catch up.
"Do you like any of them?" Sirius asked Peter, leaning his head close. "What about the blonde? She looks like Professor Abbott, doesn't she?"
"I don't fancy Professor Abbott!" Peter protested. Sirius raised his eyebrows.
"I never said you did."
Nevertheless, Sirius winked at the blonde. Peter sharply inhaled.
"What about you, Moony?" Sirius asked, as they strolled to nowhere in particular. Remus hid his hands in his pockets and shrugged.
"I was thinking I could just offer to chaperone," he murmured, consulting the damp grass. Sirius stopped.
"Moony," he said, breathing a laugh, and Remus fixed his eyes on his shoes. "It's the day of, you can't exactly afford to be picky. There're about thirty girls out here, is there really not even one you can stand?" Remus shrivelled. He quickly examined the girls from the corner of his eye, heart beating fast. Who did he know the best? With whom could he conjure some topic of conversation up that would mildly interest them both?
"Liya Kumar's in my Arithmancy class," he mumbled, toeing the ground. Oh, no, bollocks. That meant if he messed it up, he'd have to see her three times a week. He hurriedly glanced up to announce his change of mind, but to his horror, Sirius was already striding across to her. "Fuck," he whispered.
Liya Kumar was a chubby, pretty girl who wore her long black hair in a tidy braid. She sat with the blonde (Crockett) Sirius had winked at, and two other Hufflepuffs from their year. Sirius sidled up to them, absently adjusting the fastenings of his cloak. He was so casual – as if this was nothing more than buttering toast. Remus could not understand what imbued him with such confidence. What made him so sure the world owed him good luck, simply for the gift of being Sirius Black? (But Remus believed it too, and why, he could not explain).
"Liya," Sirius greeted, voice velvet. She paused her latch-hooking to look at him. The other girls froze, and one frantically shuffled to make room for him. He did not sit. Instead, he walked behind Liya and inclined himself in a funny sort of bow, leaning close to her ear as if to whisper a secret.
"You know my friend Remus? From Arithmancy?" He gestured to Remus, whose breath clogged his throat. Liya nodded her head and gave a short reply, which Remus guessed was probably a 'yes'. "Well, he's been a bit of a coward, really – I'm sorry for leaving it so late, I would've made him ask, but the clock's ticking and I couldn't let him just languish – but he really wants to go with you tonight." Remus wanted the ground to swallow him whole. Why was Sirius lying? Couldn't it have been framed for what it was – a partnership of convenience? Remus couldn't maintain a façade to her the whole night, he'd go mental. "I mean, of course, you probably already have a partner – I only wanted to double-check, or else I'd spend the rest of the week listening to him moan and groan and wonder if it was self-inflicted." He laughed musically, and after a moment, Liya did too.
"Well, my date fell through," Liya said eventually, looking directly at Remus. Fuck. Fuck. He gave her a vague smile that probably looked shy and nervous, though hopefully she'd interpret it through Sirius' framing rather than the truth. "I can go with Lupin." Sirius sighed dramatically and threw his head back.
"You've saved me," he said. "Truly, I owe you." Liya laughed again.
"It's fine, really."
Sirius looked over and a fresh wave of – frustration, annoyance, jealousy, why was there jealousy? – washed over Remus.
"Peter! Come here!" Sirius motioned. "You know, Crockett, we're thinking of all going back to the dormitory afterwards, having a few drinks, playing a few games…I've already got a partner but it's strictly platonic, you know, son I don't know what I'll be up for afterwards, I'm sure she'll go elsewhere…" Peter blew out an upset breath.
"Why can't he ask for me?" Peter grumbled, stomping over. Remus rather wished he and Peter's opportunities had been reversed. If he could've asked Liya himself, he could've made it clear that there was nothing else there. Now he was stuck with Sirius' version of events. Why Peter would want to leave the task up to Sirius, he had no idea. At this rate, a proposal to go to the dance together would end up as a proposal of marriage.
"Erm," said Peter, and the blonde stood. "Do you – erm, would you – only if you want to – for the dance – unless you have someone – I mean – I'm sorry – only if-"
"Yes, alright," Crocket said hurriedly. "If we're going back to the dormitory afterwards…" Well, if there was going to be a more embarrassing proposal than the one Sirius had done on Remus' behalf, it was that.
"I can go with Potter!" Fisher jumped up from her seat on the grass, gazing at James. Sirius grimaced.
"Ah, bad luck, he's going with his girlfriend." Fisher deflated significantly. "Anyway, thank you, ladies, we'll see you tonight. Come on, Wormy." Peter and Sirius joined Remus and James once more, Peter grinning, Sirius' face darkening. The show was over.
"See, it's not difficult," Sirius said sulkily. "There you go, Moony. No need to thank me. Shouldn't you be getting back to decorating?" Indeed, beyond the doorway of the Entrance Hall, he could see Frank, Alice, and Marcus waiting by the Great Hall. Remus swore. Sirius rolled his eyes and jogged inside, leaving the others to follow.
"You don't think he's really going to try to get with Crockett, is he?" Peter asked, wringing his hands. Remus shrugged.
"No," he said. He doubted Sirius could be bothered. Why was he running off like that? He went up the Marble Staircase rather than waiting for them to catch up. Had he done too many good deeds for the day and waiting for Remus was a step too far?
Peter and James said goodbye to him at the door, and he ventured in for another few hours of instruction, repetitive spells, and endless pink. It was five o'clock before Alice let them go free, and Remus and Lily staggered upstairs, thoroughly exhausted. They would have to return after dinner to put the tables away, but until then, they were free agents.
"I don't want to come down to dinner with my make-up all done, but I don't know if I'll have time afterwards," Lily lamented. "What are you going to do? Are you going to come down in your dress robes?"
Remus would rather die. "Well, there's nearly an hour between the end of dinner and the start of the dance. I thought I'd have enough time to get changed."
"It's terribly trite to sigh and say, 'boys', but honestly, boys." Lily grinned. "Do you want to swap places?" Remus shook his head. "Fair enough." Never, in a hundred years, would he want to swap places with Lily. Not because she was a girl, or because of her life, but because of his. His getting her girlhood and group of friends would be condemning her to the changes of the full moon and the fruitless future that awaited him. He liked her far too much for that.
The common room was surprisingly empty. The dorm was a mess. No fewer than fifteen sets of dress robes hung over the ends of beds or from sticking charms applied to bedposts or out of dresser drawers. Peter huddled on the end of his bed looking close to tears, James launched a quaffle at his bed, Sirius stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, his half-naked body and dripping hair transforming him into Poseidon himself, and Dale ripped his bong so loudly that it drowned out the Enchanted Zippers record that spun on the turntable in the corner.
"Hey, Remus," James greeted, swiping the quaffle from his sheets. "Black tie, red robes, or red tie, black robes?"
"What?"
"Have a look. It'll warm you up for helping Pete." James gestured to the bed. Two sets of robes, both cut from what even Remus could tell was very expensive material, in the latest style (tight around the waist, loose and wide around the ankles, neck slashed low to reveal a shirt underneath), lay half-crumpled, with bowties thrown hastily atop them.
"I don't know…red robes?" The Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match was approaching; it seemed appropriate for James.
"Alright, cheers. Help Pete now."
Peter groaned. Remus stepped over a mountain of quills and notebooks to sit next to him. Sirius disappeared behind his curtains, white towel almost slipping from his waist as he did. A noise rose unbidden in Remus' throat, and he barely swallowed it.
"I think I have too many options now," Peter moaned, drawing Remus' attention. "Sirius said we could do some charms on his robes and make them bigger, if I wanted to borrow them."
"Sirius is letting you borrow his robes?" Remus asked sharply.
"If I want to." So Sirius' magnanimous kick wasn't over. Maybe he was just pissed off with Remus. "So these are my nicer robes, you know, for parties, and then these are my dress robes, but my mum picked them out and I don't know if I like the collar, and then this one is Sirius' pair from last year…" Remus wondered if Lily's task of getting ready and the business of the girls' dormitories might actually be less strenuous than this. Remus barely made it in for a shower before it was time for dinner. Sirius barely spoke to him except to offer him another mouthful from his flask, and then to interrogate him about the dance.
"I want good food," he said, with a slur to the edges of his words. "Good shit."
"I think it's really just pudding," Remus answered.
"Well, I'll be going to the Kitchens then. And complaining to Rhysfield." James snatched the flask from him.
"At this rate, they're not going to let you in, mate," James warned. He turned to Remus. "Who's on the door?"
"Alice and Frank," he replied. "Alice for tickets already bought, Frank for last-minute. Don't send anyone without a ticket to Alice, she'll be mad. She's put a lot of thought into the seating plan."
Dinner went by too quickly, most people only picking at the meals, and was concluded by the Headmaster's confirmation that the dance would begin at eight and last until midnight, by which time they all really ought to be in bed, as they had lessons the next morning. Remus stayed behind while the others left amongst a clambering crowd of students, each wanting to be the first to reach their dorm and start getting ready. Remus and the others set to packing away the house tables (with help from Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, and their wands) and setting up new ones. Professor McGonagall conjured white tablecloths from the end of her wand, while Remus and Lily ran ragged putting place cards where Alice ordered them to.
"Who did you end up bringing?" Alice shouted from one end of the hall, setting a box of records flying towards Frank, who stood by an ornate gramophone. Remus coloured.
"Erm, a Hufflepuff from my year. I'll write the card." He hurried to the table set aside for the Gryffindor prefects and scrawled Liya's name onto a blank card, setting her between him and Lily.
"Do you fancy her?" Lily asked, appearing at his shoulder. He nearly jumped.
"What?"
"Keep your pants on, sorry!" She patted his arm. "I promise I'll be better behaved than your mates would be."
"Well, that's not difficult," Remus said, thinking of Sirius.
"I know, but all the same."
It was 7:40 before Alice finally put her wand down, leaned against the wall, rubbed her forehead, and sighed.
"Oh, Merlin's fat, saggy balls, how am I going to get ready in twenty minutes?" she moaned faintly. At once, Frank was at her side, rubbing her shoulders.
"We'll be quick," he promised her soothingly. "I've practised all those spells you use on your hair, you know. I think I could do them." Alice turned around to face him.
"You did?"
"Yes – er, I thought it might be useful…"
"Oh, Frank!"
Remus took the extraordinary amount of snogging that followed as his cue to leave. Once again, the dormitory was in absolute chaos, though this time the only real cause of the chaos was Peter. Sirius' robes had expanded to fit him, but Remus quickly learned that Peter felt they were still too tight. His hair would not lay flat, he'd discovered a new pimple on his chin that swelled bright red, and he could not think of a single thing to say to Crockett.
"I don't even know where I'm supposed to be meet her!" Peter cried, anguished. "At the Great Hall? Or where her common room is? Am I meant to get inside the common room?" He threw his comb onto the dresser. "Why couldn't I have gone with a Gryffindor girl? Why couldn't Macdonald have said yes?"
"It's bad luck," James said sympathetically. "Remus, could you get this thing on me?" Something thin and gold dangled from his fingers. Upon closer inspection, he found that it was a necklace. Remus frowned questioningly but did as James asked. It was fiddly, but he managed in the end, and James answered the unspoken query. "Lisbete gave it to me for Christmas," he said, voice low, glancing at Sirius, who was busy shooting sparks out the window for no apparent reason. Remus forced down a lump in his throat. James ran his fingers through his hair, and with a flick of his wand summoned a packet of cigarettes. "Do you want one?"
"Thanks." Remus lit his with the end of his wand. Peter took one too, but Dale already had a spliff between his lips.
"Sirius!" James threw the packet at him. Sirius deftly summoned the packet and it sailed into his open hand. All his magic looked so careless; like it was nothing more than an afterthought. He could've killed someone with a flick of his wrist, and Remus wouldn't've been able to be surprised.
After a smoke, Remus changed into his robes (shabby, worn at the elbows, his father's from when he'd been at school, so neither in fashion nor quite old enough to be vintage), and the four of them headed downstairs. Marlene and Lisbete were waiting for them. Marlene wore patterned yellow robes and chunky boots, while Lisbete had on a very fluffy pink dress and a gold necklace that looked very similar to James'. Remus understood what Peter had said; it would be a great deal easier to find their partners if they happened to share a common room.
"Jamie!" Lisbete exclaimed hollowly, striding towards them instead of running, with a smile that didn't meet her eyes. Her blonde curls bounced along as she moved like they'd been hit with a 'Spongify'.
"Lisbete." James kissed her cheek as Sirius might his mother's. "You look beautiful."
"You're wearing your necklace," she noted, with a tone of surprise. He fingered it.
"I like this necklace," he said.
"That's why you've barely worn it." Peter laughed and covered it with a cough. Sirius tapped his foot. "Do you mind very much if we go now? Cathy's already down there." She tugged his hand. James swiped his fingers through his hair.
"No, that's fine. I'll see you guys down there," he addressed them, waving. Lisbete turned her face to the door, and for a fleeting moment James grimaced, though he was back to the countenance of a happy boyfriend by the time she looked over her shoulder to check that he was going. They stumbled off through the portrait hole and were quickly replaced by Marlene.
"Mary wouldn't let us drink in the dormitory because she said Lily wouldn't," she said very quickly. "Give me." Sirius withdrew the flask from the inner pocket of his dress robes and handed it over. She swigged.
"How did you know he had that?" Peter asked. Marlene finished, wiped her mouth (and a bit of brown lipstick), and gave it back.
"He reeks of it," she said. "And even if he didn't, it's Sirius. I'm not an idiot." She looked them up and down. "Are you two going together?"
"No," Remus said quickly. "We're going with Hufflepuffs. Kumar and Crockett." Of course he wasn't going with Peter. That was absurd. Why had she assumed that, rather than that they were each going alone?
"Has Mary got someone to go with?" Peter asked, standing on his tiptoes.
"No," Marlene said offhandedly. Peter deflated. "Anyways, where are you meeting them? Maybe Sirius and I can come with you."
"We don't exactly know yet," Remus admitted. Marlene looked as bemused as he felt.
"…Alright." She fell silent. Peter kicked the floor. Remus caught Sirius' eye for a fleeting second, and then the other looked right past him.
"We should go rescue James," Sirius said, breaking the silence. "And Moony, don't you have a job to do? You should go find Kumar."
"Well, Alice and Frank are on the doors-"
"Yep, see you later." Sirius practically dragged Marlene away. Remus and Peter rounded to watch them go. Peter sighed.
"Do you think he's going to get with her?" Peter asked miserably. "Is that why he's so eager to go?"
"He's not getting with anyone," Remus said. "He's drunk already. He'll be lucky if he can keep his head upright, never mind anything else." Marlene wasn't stupid enough to sleep with Sirius in any case. And Remus personally thought any rumours of people in their year doing that were greatly exaggerated.
With nothing better to do, he and Peter went to the basement and found Liya and Crockett on their way up to the Great Hall. Liya wore pretty satin blue robes and Crockett pale pink.
"You look beautiful," Peter blurted out, in precisely the same tone and cadence James had used. Crockett smiled.
"Oh, thank you! You look -" her eyes flicked up and down Peter's borrowed robes, "-mm, thank you." Remus instantly disliked her. Peter chuckled nervously.
"Hi, Lupin," Liya said, approaching Remus. "Or are we going to use first names?"
Remus coughed. "Erm. Whatever you like."
"Okay." They all looked at the floor. A couple bustled past them, chatting merrily. Crockett picked at her sleeves. Remus would've given anything to be up with James and Sirius rather than in this basement corridor with two girls he barely knew.
"Um, maybe we should go," Crockett said, after a larger group hurried past and shuffled them to the edge of the corridor.
"Let's go," Peter agreed. They went up the stairs to the Entrance Hall, which had been speckled with couples when Remus and Peter passed a few minutes ago, but was now full to the brim. People waited on the stairs or in doorways, and Remus only took three steps out of the stairwell before having to stop. Five-hundred voices filled the chamber, laughing or flirting or complaining about the line. Indeed, there was a queue of sorts snaking through the crowd, and people hunted for the end of it.
"There!" Liya exclaimed, pointing at a girl in a large green hat maybe ten feet away. "That's the end, I just saw them join. Come on." She and Crockett joined hands and began excusing themselves past people. Remus and Peter tried to keep up, swimming through the masses. Perfumed, sweaty bodies pressed up against one another, and Peter kept disappearing into a sea of shoulders. A boy from the Gryffindor quidditch team – Hoover – nearly trampled them, and hurriedly explained that he couldn't find the end of the line either. In the end, Peter grabbed hold of Remus' sleeve, Hoover traipsed along behind them, and they waded to where Liya and Crockett had staked their claim.
"I thought we'd lost you," Liya laughed. Remus barely had the chance to smile politely before someone shouted.
"LUPIN!" It was Frank, waving his arms above his head madly. "COME HERE!" A brute-faced third-year shouted at Frank, who shot Remus one last desperate look. He turned to his group.
"Do you mind?" he asked, gesturing to the doors. Crockett shrugged.
"Do what you want," she said.
"It's alright," Liya said. Peter nodded. Remus hurried off and, with some difficulty, made it to Frank, who had carrots sprouting from his nose.
"Wanker jinxed me," he said nasally. Remus pulled out his wand and performed the counter-jinx, and the carrots fell to the ground. "Evanesco." The carrots vanished. "Thanks, Lupin. Sorry to be a pain in the arse. Could you make sure everyone's queueing properly? I reckon some of the first-years are pushing in. It's a right travesty."
"I'll make sure," Remus vowed.
"Knew I could count on you."
In the following half an hour, Remus' bollocks were only threatened with being hexed off three times, which seemed like a victory in the wake of how many anxious, impatient students there were, confined in such close quarters. He, Peter, and the girls were some of the last students inside. Alice and Frank had charmed the place cards well; those guarding empty seats hovered two feet above the tables, and were large enough to read at a distance. Peter and Crockett were at a table with James and Lisbete, Sirius and Marlene, Mary Macdonald, and Catherine Roshfinger and a boy whose name Remus didn't recognise. They bid Remus and Liya goodbye, and Remus led Liya to the Gryffindor prefects' table at the front of the room. It too had nine people: Remus and Liya, Lily and Glen Vane, Laura and the captain of the Ravenclaw quidditch team, Elphias Gamp, Marcus McLaggen, and then Alice and Frank. Remus swore silently when he saw that Marcus was alone; so he could have got away with it.
"Alright – no, don't sit yet, hang on!" Alice instructed, pointing her wand at Gamp, who froze. "Frank and I are making a speech; we don't want people to sit yet. If you stay standing, they will too."
"This one?" Frank pulled a tube of lipstick from a lime green handbag.
"That's the one!" Frank tossed it to her and she caught it expertly. She tapped the end with the tip of her wand and it applied itself to her lips. "Mm, okay," she said, a little hindered, "just be quiet, clap at the end, and then we'll settle in for dinner." The lipstick stilled, and she capped it and threw it back to Frank, who tucked it away. "Alright, smile!" She and Frank linked arms and hurried over to the lectern in front of the intact Staff Table, where the Headmaster awaited them. Remus, with the other prefects and their dates, stood awkwardly behind their chairs.
"She seems -" Liya whispered, following Alice with her eyes, "- erm, formidable."
Remus nodded. "That would be the word."
The doors to the Great Hall shut, and all eyes turned to the front of the room. Gauzy pink curtains hung over the tall windows at the end of the hall, and bubble hearts drifted above Alice and Frank's heads. The night sky cleared as if especially for the event, revealing a deep blue canopy of spangled silver stars. Remus gripped the back of the dark wooden chair in front of him.
"Welcome," said Professor Dumbledore, and his voice silenced the room. A crimson hat sparkled atop his silver hair, much as his eyes did behind his half-moon spectacles. "Welcome to the Gryffindor Fundraiser Dance, which aims to raise money for the Yorkshire Magical Creatures Rehabilitation Reserve, where injured, disabled, and orphaned creatures are cared for and nursed to health. We look forward to an evening of revelry and good company, led by the Gryffindor prefects, who we thank for their efforts in organising and preparing this event. I now invite the senior Gryffindor prefects to speak; our Head Girl Alice Rhysfield, and Frank Longbottom." Remus clapped for the, but privately wondered if Frank was a little disappointed in his lack of title. Then again, perhaps he'd never wanted to be Head Boy; Remus didn't.
"Thank you, Headmaster. And it's only because you let us use the Great Hall – and didn't think we were completely mad – that we get to enjoy tonight, so thank you." Alice led a second round of applause. "And thank you to Professor McGonagall, who oversaw our project, and to Professor Flitwick, who helped us out today." A third round. Alice glowed and began the rest of her speech; she talked about how important the cause was to the Gryffindors, why they thought a celebration was the best way to raise money, et cetera. Remus gazed across the room at Sirius and the others. Sirius did look transcendental in his velvet robes, his hair gently dried. Marlene looked nice enough too, and James and Peter, though the latter pair looked rather like they'd been hit with an unpleasant jinx. Lisbete held James' arm and smiled like a shark, and Crockett – was looking at Remus? No, at Liya, who returned her awkward look in kind.
Frank said a few words, and then there was applause as they returned to their seat. The Headmaster waved his hands and food filled their plates, and with a flick of Frank's wand, the music swelled and the first part of the evening – the feast – began. Remus rather regretted eating so much at dinner; he and everyone else. But he couldn't stop himself.
The house-elves created the menu, though Alice had been consulted, and they'd done a very good job of it. There was more food on each table than twenty people could hope to eat, let alone half that number. The prefects ate carefully, making conversation between bites so that Remus was obliged to reply rather than shovel another bit of chicken down. Each time he looked back at his friends, his chest ached.
Supper concluded and dessert arrived in a shower of red and pink sparks. Chocolate fountains appeared in the centre of each white tablecloth, and a variety of sweets surrounded them: custards and puddings, fruit pies, biscuits, cakes, tarts of all kinds. By the end of it, half the plates were clear, the chocolate fountain was struggling to refill, and his stomach had curdled.
"My eyes were bigger than my belly," Lily said, ruefully regarding what had been a bowl full of rainbow, sugar-coated jelly jubes.
"It's very good, isn't it?" Vane said. Gamp nodded, and the two of them exchanged a series of looks apparently only interpretable by Ravenclaws. That didn't stop Marcus from straining his neck as he attempted to figure out what they were communicating.
"Mm, they did a good job," Liya said, neatly setting down her spoon.
Soon, the Headmaster was at the lectern, and with a wave of his hands, the plates vanished. Remus swallowed. He caught sight of his friends once more, and Peter was snorting, while James and Sirius grinned and flung their arms out. Marlene bent double, but the others looked hesitant. Remus shifted. Couldn't he have given his badge to Dale? Well, he could see how that would be a terrible idea. But why did it have to be him? Why did he have to be over here, with the prefects and a girl from his Arithmancy class, while his friends had the time of their lives? The badge on his chest burned. He regarded it dryly. At least I'm not a Slytherin, he thought. Then it'd be silver. And right over the heart.
"Now we have come to the part of the evening for which, I expect, you are most excited for," Professor Dumbledore said, smiling mischievously. "If you would please stand." They did. With a wave of his wand, the tables stacked themselves neatly at the sides of the hall, and the floor underneath blossomed bright pink, as it had been enchanted that morning, becoming a dance floor. Stone pedestals rose from the floor, and this was where the prefects' spells began. As one, they took out their wands and murmured the various incantations needed to activate the spells and decorations they'd spent all day on. Ornate vases filled with all types of flowers appeared on the pedestals; the candles above their heads turned pink and red and white and let off sweet floral scents. Frank directed a change in music, to something ballroom and vibrant. A few tables reconfigured and held refreshments: bowls of punch, teapots, finger food. Chairs lined the long sides of the hall, providing those too tired with somewhere to rest. It did look like something you'd imagine out of the Victorian era, out of one of those old-fashioned romance novels girls liked so much.
"There we are," said Professor Dumbledore. "I won't hold you back any longer. Let the dance begin!" He turned to Professor McGonagall and offered his hand, to which she laughed and accepted. They swept down the few stone steps that separated the staff area from that of the students and took to the floor in a dance so convoluted and quick Remus didn't see how the students were meant to join them.
"Oh, come on!" Alice said. "We're meant to be leading this thing. Frank -"
"Alice," he interrupted her, smiling. "Would you do me the honour?" She shook her head, beaming from ear-to-ear.
"I love you," she said. Frank bowed and kissed her hand, to which she laughed, and the two of them hurried out to dance.
"Aw," said Laura. "They're sweet. I think they could really end up married one day." Lily chuckled bemusedly.
"Nobody marries their boyfriend from school," she said. Laura frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"I think the wizarding world is a little smaller than your muggle one," Vane said, taking Lily's arm. "Not everyone does, certainly, but a lot do." Unless you marry a muggle. Remus had never thought to ask if his father had had a girlfriend in school, but if he had, it hadn't lasted long after he left. He'd spent years on his own before he met Remus' mother, as the story went. He'd been too busy travelling and studying spirits. Both kinds.
"Oh." Lily looked a touch stunned. "Well, I guess Alice and Frank would be my pick of anyone."
"Lily, would you dance with me?" Vane asked. She shook herself.
"Yeah, of course. Come on." The two of them joined Alice and Frank and Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall on the dance floor, along with a steady trickle of older students. Laura and Gamp followed quickly. Most of those who weren't dancing had rushed to the sides, and in the crowd, Remus had lost Sirius, James, and Peter.
Marcus cleared his throat loudly.
"I'll speak with you later, Lupin. Very nice to meet you, Kumar," he said, before departing. This left Remus and Liya alone near the middle of the room.
"Do you want to dance?" Liya asked, fiddling with the beads on her dress. No. Not at all. And then James and Sirius emerged onto the floor, Sirius and Marlene laughing, James and Lisbete resigned, and began moving to the song that started. Sirius moved elegantly, even as Marlene followed half a step behind, pulling faces at him. He was liquid starlight.
"Alright," Remus said. "We may as well."
He didn't know how to dance. He approximated it by watching James and Sirius, both of whom appeared to have had lessons at some point, because there was no way someone could instinctively move as they did. Peter and Crockett stumbled out, Peter's eyes wide. He made panicked eye contact with Remus.
"Ouch!" Crockett said.
"I'm sorry!" Peter squeaked, returning his attention to her. James hoisted Lisbete into the air and twirled her, her gold hair streaking through the air like a snitch evading capture. Lily and Vane were near the front, and they smiled at each other as they did a kind of waltz, Lily leaning in to mutter a comment and pointedly look at someone – Remus followed her gaze and found Mulciber from seventh-year on the receiving end.
"Are you having fun?" Liya asked. Remus awkwardly had his hands on her waist, where the material of her dress chafed his palms. It seemed she was as good a dancer as he was, so they stood together, kind-of swaying to the music, shuffling across the floor.
"Yes," he said, distracted.
Sirius spun Marlene, eyes alight with mischief; he pulled her into a headlong run he transformed into a dance move a moment before colliding with a pair of Slytherins, swooping back the other way; he flexed his fingers in hers; his lips twitched; his long lashes dusted his cheeks; he tossed his head back; he brushed hair from his eyes; he looked at Remus.
He looked at Remus.
They faced each other from opposite sides of the room, each looking over their dance partner's shoulders. Sirius' grey eyes looked straight into his soul. Remus was powerless against it. They were alone. Fixed points, orbiting each other. The moon and the earth, held by gravity. If they were any closer, they would collide. If they were any further away, one would escape. And Remus knew at once he was the moon; forever circling, never touching. Always at a distance. But never far enough.
Oh.
A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reads, kudoses, and/or comments for your continued support! You guys truly mean the world to me, even if I don't always know how to express it.