Hogwarts Assignments: Assignment 8
Gryffindor
Charms: Task 1
Write about someone discovering a part of Hogwarts nobody else has been in for years.
Word Count: 780
Written For Shay
Remus moans about how exploring is dangerous and about getting in trouble, and Peter shivers in his nightgown. But Remus can't resist the Invisibility Cloak – after all, who could? – and James teases Peter into coming. And so it begins.
First year is the simple things. The kitchens, the passageway behind the One-Eyed Witch. First year is when you get the most detentions. Peter can't stop sniffling when Filch comes around, and James won't bloody shut up.
Then second year you find it. The Room.
Your room. Ours.
The hinges on the door are creaky. James pushes a little too aggressively, and all four of you are showered in dust. These were somebody's quarters, once. Candle holders are full of melted wax. The rich purple bedspread awes even you.
There's a painting there, too. But it doesn't talk, or move. As a twelve year old Pureblood that's a bit odd – but you don't care, not really.
You do care that the room is big enough for a table and four chintz armchairs. You do care that you can ask the table for anything, and the House Elves will make it appear. You do care that you can sit and plan out your pranks, full endless mugs of hot chocolate and puddings you didn't even know existed.
James smacks Peter with a pillow and Remus sprawls on the bed, book open. You feel safer and warmer than you ever have. As the last of a chocolate meringue melts in your mouth, you know nothing feels better than this.
Third year is harder for you. The scarlet and gold on your robes is suddenly much more visible. Regulus's green and silver cuts deeper than before.
You coin "The Den" for that abandoned bedchamber. You drink Butterbeer with your fellow Marauders and escape your mother's Howlers and your brother's tears.
That's the year you find out about Remus's 'Furry Little Problem'. He breaks down, face buried in a pillow, shaking the bed with sobs.
He worries that you'll walk out. That you'll leave him alone in The Den, a lone wolf forgotten by the world. You're furious, of course. You shout at him for never telling you. Remus cries and then Peter cries and James shoves you in the corridor, enraged.
You thought you knew Remus. You think of your brother with his slimy, sneaky snakes and you wonder what else Remus would hide from you. You hate your own family and you thought those shared nights and misspent days had created a different one.
A bedchamber is nothing special, really.
By the time fourth year rolls around you've forgiven him. Alone in that room, you cried far longer than Remus did.
You feel so much more than anyone you know. Your life is ruled by passion, and that passion has such purpose. You are fifteen years old, and you know you will fight a war.
You will face your own flesh and blood on the battlefield. You see it in flashes of green and silver; hear it in whispered hallway taunts; feel it as you splash water on your face every morning.
But there's one passion you can't quite understand. At first you resent James's feelings for Lily. You wonder what you're missing, or what you might lose.
You burn Regulus's letters in The Den. Remus tries to comfort you and you tell Remus you want to kill your brother. That you want to kill Snivellus. That you want to kill every bit of Death Eater slime you've ever known.
It disturbs Remus, and it disturbs you too. But your anger stays within the walls of that room. Outside, you are happy. Inside, you find a pain that maybe should have stayed lost.
You kiss a girl for the first and last time. Mary MacDonald.
You don't like it. She tries to catch your eye at breakfast. You feel sick to your stomach and run out of the Great Hall, James hot on your heels.
He holds your head as you vomit all over the bed. That magnificent amethyst bedspread.
When you kiss Remus it's in that abandoned bedchamber. The silk sheets are cool against bare skin. The same sheets where James cleaned your vomit and Remus sobbed after hiding the truth from you.
You don't hate it. You still love him. You want to want him. You do want him. You want to hold Remus forever, far away from the full moon and the Ministry and your own bigoted family.
But you don't like kissing.
You look down. It's Peter, of all people, who notices. James hands you a Butterbeer.
You never tried kissing again. But your life is full of passion.
Authors Note:
This is far out of the realm of what I normally write on many, many levels. But my headcanon includes an asexual Sirius, and when Shay asked for a gift fic about asexuality I decided to step out of my comfort zone. I've never done second person or stream-of-consciousness or anything about sexual feeling. So on this piece especially, I'd really appreciate feedback.