Plot: The infamous Marauders weren't alone in their love for pranking. In fact, they often had their butts kicked by a bunch of girls. Now, this is it. Seventh year. Four girls, four boys. Two opposing pranking teams. One hell of a battle to be won.
Disclaimer: Sad as it may be, I am not J.K. Rowling in disguise, and therefore I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters or themes involved. (I do, however, own Jamie, Hannah and Regan and most elements of this specific plot—so I'd appreciate it if no poaching occurred. Thanks.)
WARNING (please read): This is the unedited version, meaning I wrote it a few years ago when my skill level sucked and I had no idea how to properly structure a story. So if you'll please ignore the terrible grammar, dodgy sentence structure, OOC-ness, plot holes, canonical inconsistencies and general immaturity of this whole chapter while I plough my way through all this editing work, that would be greatly appreciated. :) I'm in the process of fixing up all the chapters right now, but you'll have to be patient, because (as you can probably tell just by reading a couple of sentences below) fixing this stuff up takes a lot of time and effort.
Chapter 14 – Sick At Heart
Regan had never thought it possible to feel sorry for something she had done to the Marauders.
But this was different. Peter wasn't his usual bratty self – he was quiet as can be. She could tell by the pained expression on his pudgy face that his self-esteem was brutally wounded, destroyed even. Sitting next to him, the starkness of his suffering was magnified to such a factor that Regan could hardly stand it. Normally this sort of thing didn't concern her, but to think that she was responsible for this... it made her feel like an enormous hypocrite. Truth be told, what she had done to Peter was hardly classed any differently to what Sirius had done to Hannah.
Regan tried to spend as much time as possible staring away from Peter and instead trying to catch Jamie's eye, but her panicky friend was so much on edge that she had turned completely in the other direction, with her back facing the boy she was nervously trying to avoid.
However, when she inadvertently turned in Peter's direction to dip her quill, she realized that there was no need to face the other way. Peter's whole body was turned so far away from her and his focus was so remote that she might have been a stationary object, not worthy of any acknowledgment at all. She realized with a pang of guilt that this was probably true.
After spending another hour in the hell of indecision, the students were finally unleashed on the corridors, and Regan got up as soon as the professor dismissed them. Peter was quick; he was out the door with commendable speed, considering his bulky physique. But Regan had made her choice, and she was even faster in her attempt to catch up. She shot up after him, stopping in front of him and blocking his path. His face was full of shock.
"What?" he said, evidently trying to sound impatiently indifferent – and failing.
"Peter," Regan said in as gentle a tone she could muster while talking to this particular subject. He looked perplexed, but it was nothing compared to the look he gave her after she said, "I wanted to apologize."
His eyes lit up and he blushed in spite of himself. His lips almost formed a smile, but as they parted in surprise, they formed a stupid sort of 'o' shape. Regan tried not to laugh, and was surprised by her successful self-restraint.
Careful with her wording, Regan drew in a deep breath and proceeded. "I didn't mean... well, what I'm trying to say is..." she fumbled idiotically over her words as she tried to decide on the most appropriate way to put it. To hell with it, she thought. "Whatever. I can't say that I didn't mean what I said, because that'd be a sorry lie if I ever heard one. But I think I misjudged you, Pettigrew. I took you for some pitiable little pushover who tagged along with his friends for the glory ride." Peter's face fell. "Wait!" Regan insisted. "I was wrong. I didn't think you could take an insult to heart like that – I thought you'd just blow it off like your dumb pricks of friends always do. But you didn't, and... I guess that shows you've got a personality of your own. I'm sorry."
She thought she had expressed herself fairly accurately without going overboard, but Peter's change of expression at her last words told her otherwise. She gulped.
"D-do you mean it?" he stuttered, a hopeful smile on his pudgy face.
"Uh... I guess," said Regan hesitantly.
Peter was ecstatic. "Thank you!" he practically squealed. Regan took a step back. Then he burst into a rather long and complicated jumble of words. "I though – I mean, I didn't think you really meant it! I was right! That'll teach Remus... Oh, and sorry for throwing a rock at you. I didn't mean to – I cast the wrong spell, you see."
Regan couldn't help but crack a smile. "I know." she said. "You wouldn't have the guts to knock me out on purpose."
Peter frowned momentarily, but his jovial mood didn't seem too diminished.
"Err, I should go," Regan said slowly, taking a few steps away. Peter looked confused. "Potions." she informed in, and he looked enlightened.
"See you!" he called when she was several yards away. She didn't look back, but waved briefly over her shoulder before disappearing around the bend.
Lily's fever hadn't gone down since morning. In fact – she knew from a simple spell she had been taught by Flitwick that allowed one to use their wand as a thermometer – that her temperature had been on the rise. She was well aware of the fact that Madam Pomfrey could work wonders and probably fix her in an instant, but she wasn't going to leave the dormitory looking like this. Or rather, she wasn't prepared to face James if she happened to run into him in the corridors.
Lily knew it was far from reasonable to hold such a grudge, but for some reason, it seemed that this time, James had proven himself worthy of total ignorance. He and his stupid friends had gone beyond teasing – this time they were actually hurting the Rogues – or at least, one of them. Lily was kicking herself for believing that he had matured over the summer. If anything, he and the rest of the Marauders had become even more childish.
But beneath the anger welling up in her stomach and her head – she thought this probably had something to do with the fever – Lily knew there was denial. Now that James knew what she thought of him, what was he going to say? She couldn't face him. Not now, when she had thrown her feelings so openly into the raging battlefield.
The day dragged on, and what time Lily didn't pass sleeping she spent brooding over her impossible situation. With regret, she thought about the Heads' meeting taking place that evening in she and James's shared Common Room. It certainly wasn't going to be pleasant, but it was mandatory. If anything mattered, Lily's marks did – and blowing off her duties wasn't a great place to start when it came to impressing the teachers.
The longer she thought about it, the sicker she became. And after spending a long hour in the bathroom, Lily wondered if it might be best to skip the meeting for her health's sake, at least. But, realizing that she was only making feeble excuses, she groaned to herself and returned to indecision. She had another two hours to think about it, and if her progress so far was anything to go by, it wouldn't be enough.
Remus was growing more restless as the day went on. His encounter with Jamie had been frustratingly unsuccessful, and it didn't help that he was already in a bad moon. With the full moon only a couple of days away, he was in a bad state overall. His temper took the worst blow.
After Defense Against the Dark Arts, he had decided it would be best not to approach Jamie again. She wasn't willing to talk to him, and that was probably for the best – he didn't want to risk snapping at her when she had done nothing to deserve it.
He did his best to avoid her at all costs. Remus realized after a while that he was likely making it a little too blunt; every so often, he caught the shy girl glancing in his direction and frowning when he made no effort to speak to her. The unnaturally irritable part of him wanted to scream out at her – she had, after all, made it very clear that she didn't want to talk.
But now she seemed to have had some change of heart. She continued to look at him almost hopefully, and his heart sunk every time she did. He wished the full moon could have fallen at another time, so that he could properly express himself without this abnormal anger getting the best of him. More than anything he wished that he could explain to her why he couldn't bear to be near her right now. But nobody at school besides the Marauders knew of Remus's secret, and for good reason too.
Running into Jamie, it seemed, was inevitable. A terrible feeling of disappointment and dread spread through him as she approached. There was no way this was going to end well.
"Hey," Jamie said quietly, her eyes downcast. Remus kept his mouth shut, but it didn't seem to help the way he thought it would; Jamie's face fell at his lack of response. "I thought we should talk," she said innocently, breaking Remus's heart.
"Jamie," he started, still uncertain of what his next words would be. "I can't... this isn't the best time."
"Oh."
He wanted to murder himself. How could he be doing this to Jamie? Clearly he'd been leading her on by trying to engage her in conversation earlier that day, and now he was dealing with the aftermath – guilt, on her part, for ignoring him. But the tables were turned, and now Remus was the one who didn't want to talk.
"We can talk... later. In a few days, maybe," he tried to justify himself, but without success.
"A few days?" Jamie sounded crestfallen.
"I have to sort out some things first," Remus said, fighting the lump in his throat.
Jamie nodded meekly, and turned around to head in the other direction. Remus was about to breathe a sigh of relief when, unexpectedly, she turned around. Her beautiful face was livid, and her sweet voice full of fury.
"You know what? I know that you heard what I said last night. And you made you think you would face up to it like a man, but obviously I was wrong. Obviously you're just going to be a coward and put it off."
Remus was astonished. "Jamie, I know you're mad. And I want to talk, I do! But I can't right now."
She planted her fists on her hips with such force that Remus would be surprised if she didn't bruise herself. "And why exactly can't we talk now?"
Remus was infuriated now, not at Jamie personally, but at his inability to explain the circumstances. Before he knew it, he was shouting at her. "Don't you start judging me! You don't understand the kind of situation I'm in!"
Jamie's face reddened as she fired her acidic words back at him. "I don't understand your situation? Do you know how embarrassing this is for me?"
Remus practically exploded, though he knew she couldn't have any idea of the irony of her words. "Embarrassing?" he thundered. "This is much harder for me than it is for you, trust me on that."
"I'm not so sure I should."
"Why are we even having this conversation?"
"Because I thought it would help."
"Well, obviously it hasn't."
"Pardon me for trying."
"Maybe you should stay out of my way next time." He meant it more as a friendly warning than anything, but the words came out all wrong thanks to the building rage he could not control.
"Maybe I should." Jamie had tears in her blue eyes now, and Remus couldn't bear the sight of it. He wanted to be the one comforting her, not the one who made her need to be comforted in the first place. He could stand what he was doing to her.
"I have to go," he said dully, and sprinted off down the hallway. He tried to ignore the astounded faces of the people in the hallway. Of course it was a sight that would turn every head – since when did quiet little Jamie Love and the reserved Remus Lupin break into a shouting match?
But the reactions of the audience weren't important. Remus's reputation meant nothing to him right now. Most of all, he was worried about salvaging what little respect Jamie might have left for him – but he was going to have to wait for his transformation to pass before he could do it.
Lily rolled onto her side. Should I go? She kept on asking herself. She put one foot out of bed, still stretched out on the mattress. The fresh air felt nice. But the moment she thought of what awaited her in the Heads' Room, she rolled back onto her pillows, determined to stay there. When temptation got the better of her she stuck a foot out again, and the process repeated itself.
By about the fifth time, Lily was getting impatient with herself. She was going to have to make a decision sooner or later.
Finally, deciding that her position as Head Girl was more important than anything else, she placed her feet resolutely on the floor. She was lightheaded when she stood up, but the dizziness passed as she trudged over to her trunk and started to sort through her clothes.
In spite of her seemingly justified choice, Lily couldn't help but wonder to herself as she got dressed why she was going to this meeting. There wasn't a thing in the world she dreaded more. But all in all, she would have to face him sometime. And the dread was only going to further overwhelm her if she put it off any longer.
Lily felt a little refreshed as she headed out portrait hole – her headache was dulling down a little, and her stomach was much more settled than it had been an hour ago. She didn't know whether this had to do with sickness or her satisfaction at finally having made up her mind. The latter was the most likely explanation of the two.
She started scolding herself under her breath when she had almost arrived at the familiar double door with the name tags on it – she noticed that one hung a little crooked on its hinges – and if it hadn't been against her better judgment, she would have turned around and gone back to bed. What am I doing here? She asked as her pace carried her towards the entrance to her apparent doom. I can't go in there... I can't go in there...
But at that instant, the door swung open, and Lily jumped so badly that she fell off of her feet and landed with a thud on the stone floor (her body was in no state for surprises today, not quite having recovered from the illness).
"Lily?" said a voice, half amused, have shocked. Fortunately, it didn't belong to James.
Lily pulled herself up and looked around; her eyes found Sirius Black standing in front of the door, which was ajar. "Err, Heads' meeting," she explained simply.
"Oh yeah, I remember now," Sirius said, and then ducked back in through the door. "Prongsie! Your girlfriend's here!" he called out.
"Shut up, Padfoot," Lily heard James's low reply, and she was suddenly filled with anxiety.
"What?" Sirius said, feigning innocence, as he exited the room once again.
Only now did the powerful sense of revulsion that Lily had forgotten about come back to life. She glared icily at Sirius, as if to remind him that he was not forgiven for his cruel actions, but he only chuckled at her delayed reaction as he walked away. She noticed that he carried a small, square-shaped box in his hand.
"Lily?" James's voice called to her now, and she snapped back to attention. Gulping, she stepped through the door.
"Yeah, I'm here."
James's answering smile was radiant, but not without that slight hint of uneasiness that could only be expected. Lily smiled very faintly in response, though only on the outside – inside, she was far from comfortable, even as she sat down in an armchair (as far away from him as their minimal furniture would allow) in front of the warm fire.
"I'm glad you came," James said, as if he had known she was considering staying away.
Lily nodded, but said nothing. After a few moments, James spoke.
"Well, I guess we should get started then."
"Okay."
"Do you want to talk about some of the events we need to plan?" he suggested.
"Sure." Lily wasn't particularly worried about what they were talking about. It was the talking itself she wasn't keen on. But, if they could stay away from the fatal topic that threatened to arise at any moment, she would be ultimately thankful.
James appeared a little stumped by her lack of extensive replies, but carried on anyway.
"Alright then. Have you got any suggestions as to what we're going to do for Halloween?"
"Not really," Lily admitted. What the heck, she thought. I might as well elaborate. He was only going to get more suspicious if she continued to give him such short replies. She added on, "I haven't had much time to think about it."
"No, me neither," James said with a tiny grin. "It's a wonder they expect us to handle all this on top of the homework load they're throwing at us."
Lily gave a quiet laugh. "Yeah," she said. "It is."
They discussed, for a little while, some possibilities for an appropriate end-of-October event. They were both in agreement (a rare instance indeed) that the students of Hogwarts were always eager to have a fancy dress occasion early on in the year. They didn't get very far into talking about options for a costume party when without warning, Lily started burning up again. She couldn't tell what had brought it on, but before long she felt faint, and was having a hard time concentrating on the conversation.
"Hey Lily, are you okay?"
Lily was almost dozing off when James's words brought her back to reality. He was looking at her, and by his face she could tell that he was extremely concerned.
"I'm fine," she lied. James didn't look convinced, so she forced a smile. That seemed to hold him off for a while.
They talked some more about their plans for Halloween, but Lily was contributing less and less to the exchange of ideas as her head started to feel heavier. At some point in the conversation – things were getting hazy now – James interpreted her silence as a lack of interest, and so he switched to a different topic, speaking instead of the individual events they were supposed to organize. Lily became fully awake when a particular subject arose.
"I was thinking of something like a one on one Quidditch tournament," James mused. "Actually, it was Sirius's idea."
"Sirius?" Suddenly, Lily remembered the prime factor that had led up to her not wanting to come to the meeting.
"Is there something wrong?" James asked hesitantly. His voice was cautious, as if he feared this might spark an argument.
"Has he apologized to Hannah yet?" Lily asked crossly, folding her arms, but pulling them apart as their fiery temperature practically scalded her stomach.
"I think he's on his way right now," James replied.
"Well that's good. He'd better not stuff this up."
"He won't, Lily. You should stop being so judgmental about him."
"You think I'm being hard on him?" she asked incredulously. "After what he did to one of my best friends?"
"That's not exactly what I said," James protested somewhat calmly.
"Ugh! You don't understand what kind of impact he has on Hannah, do you?" Lily was shouting now, and it made her head pound excruciatingly. She slapped a palm to her forehead and leaned over in pain.
James stopped in the middle of a reply that Lily had not heard. "Are you sure you're alright, Lily?"
"No," she groaned, twisting her head so that her cheek was pressed against the back of the chair. Even its cushions, which had been absorbing the heat from the fireplace, were cold compared to her face.
"Holy crap! Lily, what's wrong?" she was vaguely aware of James hurrying to her side, although her other senses were drowned out by the fever that was swiftly engulfing her.
"I... don't... know..." she managed to say, though her throat was very dry. She was surprised at how terrible she was feeling – she had thought she was getting better when she had arrived for the meeting. And since when did any kind of sickness come on this quickly?
James was frantic. "You look terribly, Lily! I gotta get you to the hospital wing." She felt his comparatively cold hands close around her forearm, and instinctively wrenched herself free from his grip.
"Get off!" she mumbled, her eyes fighting to stay open. But his grip was strong, and soon he had a hold of her and they were standing – or rather, he was standing, and all of her weight was being supported by him. The next moment, everything went black, for Lily had collapsed into unconsciousness.
Hannah sighed as she climbed back through the portrait hole, thoroughly defeated. She'd had a very dull, unproductive day. Only her morning had held any excitement, when she had been searching the library for a book she wanted terribly to read. But she'd spent most of the afternoon pondering over the cover page, debating whether or not to open it without telling her friends first. She had decided against it in the end – she wasn't sure if her friends would approve of the plan she had devised that this book was going to help put into action.
Climbing the stairs to the girls' dormitory, Hannah had second thoughts about the idea herself – it would definitely be a lot of fun, but there were dangers involved, and Hannah didn't like the thought of putting her friends in peril. It was for a good cause, though...
Hannah froze solid when she stepped into the dormitory. She could see her bed from there, and she could see something sitting on her pillow; something that didn't belong there.
Confused, she walked into the room and plunked herself down on the bed, reaching over to pick up the item. It was a small box, yellow in colour, with a white ribbon stuck on the top. There was also a minuscule tag.
To Hannah, it read.
I'm sorry for what I said. I hope these will make you understand and help you to forgive me.
Sirius
Sirius Black? Hannah almost had the wind knocked out of her when she read the messy scrawl of a signature. That was definitely the last person Hannah expected to receive a gift from. Was this some kind of joke? Or a lame attempt at an apology? She was so perplexed that she didn't know how to react. She didn't even know if she should open it.
After a minute of deliberation, Hannah quickly pulled off the top of the box, as if it would burn her fingers if she held it for any length of time. Inside there were six chocolate frogs.
It took a short moment for Hannah to think of it, but then it hit her. It was simple, and there was no other plausible explanation.
Of course it was a joke.
What had he just finished telling her last night? He had made his view of her appearance painfully clear. And what would somebody as ill-humoured as Sirius Black give somebody – in attempt to be funny – if he wanted them to know that they needed to lose a few pounds?
The answer was right in front of her. She'd seen it done to numerous other girls at school. I hope these will make you understand? What kind of sick wit was that?
Hannah threw the chocolate frogs down on her bed and stormed out of the room. At the bottom of the stairs, she was surprised to see Sirius lounging on one of the armchairs by the fire.
"Sirius Black!" she yelled at him, and he jumped up, startled.
"Me?" he asked, bemused.
"Yes, you! Do you see another Sirius Black around here anywhere?"
"Well there's one over there..." he pointed to his reflection in the window.
Hannah was outraged. "You think you're funny, don't you?"
"Well, I do think I have a natural charm."
"Natural charm?" Hannah cried out, exasperated. "You call that little prank a 'natural charm'?"
"What prank?" Sirius looked genuinely confused. Hannah still wasn't swayed.
"You may like to play stupid, Black, but I'm not dumb! I know what you meant by it, and it's just plain mean."
Only now did Sirius seemed to realize their subject of conversation. His eyes lit up with enlightenment at first, only to drain of all colour when he realized the source of Hannah's fury.
"Oh, that! I swear it was only-"
"I don't give a damn! Stay away from me, or else!"
"Done deal," he said, backing away with his hands held up.
"Good!" Hannah huffed, and stomped back up the stairs.
She slammed the door behind her purely out of frustration, but smiled when she realized the acoustics would have a nice effect downstairs – Sirius would at least get an understanding of how mad she was. But her smile didn't last long. In fact, the moment she reached her bed, Hannah's face crumpled and she burst into tears.
She didn't know how long she was crying for, but after a while, she stopped to sniff and noticed that the sound of the sobbing didn't stop. There was somebody else, she could tell.
Hannah blinked, wiped her eyes on the collar of her robe, and looked around for the source of the crying. She spotted it straight away, laying in a heap on the bed across from hers – Jamie.
"Jamie?" she asked, her voice weak.
Her friend looked up after a short hesitation. "Hannah, is that you?" her eyes were so red that she didn't seem to be able to see her from the other side of the room.
"Yeah." Hannah smiled slightly, getting up and crossing the room quickly before letting herself fall down next to her friend.
Jamie sniffed. "Marauder troubles?" she asked.
"Is it that obvious?" Hannah asked as stray a tear slid down her cheek.
Jamie laughed. "No, but it's just that..." she seemed to change her mind half way through. "Me, too," she said.
"Oh, Jamie!" Hannah threw her arms around her distraught friend, but this only brought on a fresh round of tears – from both girls. They sat there for some time, crying onto each others' shoulders. Finally, they pulled apart.
"Why are we letting these idiotic boys get the better of us?" Hannah asked with a tiny, sad laugh.
"I don't know," Jamie sighed. "I thought Remus..." she broke off, sniffing and wiping a tear from her face.
"They don't matter," said Hannah resolutely, and hugged her friend again. "We've got each other."
Aww... how cheesy...
(NOTE: Fear not, I am going to change the ending when I get around to editing this chapter. Don't worry - I cringe every time I read it, too.)
I couldn't think of any other way to end it, so that will have to do. I hope this chapter made enough sense. Feel free to leave a review, you know, if you feel like it. If you have time, also visit the website for this story (the link is on my profile). It's still under construction, but there's plenty to keep you entertained while I work on the next chapter. :)