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: Harry Potter and all its characters and themes are the property of J.K. Rowling. The only characters I own are Jamie, Hannah, Regan and a few minors. Other than that, it's purely fanfic.
Chapter Notes: I think I owe you guys another big, fat APOLOGY (that big and fat enough for you?) for my laziness and apparent inability to pull a chapter together in any less than six months. To be honest, I did move halfway around the planet in that time frame, but still, I'm pathetic. So I've decided not to promise quick updates anymore because... Well, clearly that method doesn't work very well for me.
I'd like to thank two reviewers in particular – MissaRissa and Fae Thatcher – for really encouraging me to get this chapter going in the first place. Sorry for disappearing off the face of the planet. You guys are awesome. In fact, you're all awesome. Reviews are my main source of support for this story, so here's a big to everyone who's taken the time to leave one for me, even when I haven't updated in who-knows-how-long. I very much appreciate your opinions.
Okay, I have good news and bad news regarding the actual chapter. On the bright side, half of the things I wanted to include in this chapter didn't fit, so the next chapter will be pretty easy for me to write. On the not-so-bright side, it means that the big, dramatic one will have to wait until number 24. Brace yourselves for that one, guys. It's gonna be HUGE. (If I can pull it off, that is. We'll see.)
As usual, I seem to have missed my cue to SHUT UP and let you get on with the chapter.
I apologise for the incredibly lame title.
Otherwise, enjoy.
Chapter Twenty-Two - Werewolves Are People Too
There was an indescribable sense of finality and satisfaction in the last sentence of an essay. No matter the subject, whether dull or (in very few cases) vaguely enjoyable, it was always a relief to reach that point where there were only a few words left to write - ten, twelve, maybe more - and, after those few words, the prospect of freedom (or, at least, temporary freedom). They didn't have to be deep, clever or especially insightful - in fact, if you weren't aiming high, they didn't even have to make sense. All that was required of that final sentence was that it ended with a full stop.
This particular full stop was vigorously stabbed into a length of parchment by a pale but tense hand, scratching so deep that the point of the quill nearly tore right through the parchment. Lily, who, in fact, was always aiming high, exhaled with relief, thrust her quill aside in an uncharacteristic display of carelessness, and gathered up her essay. No, that final sentence didn't matter in the slightest - not now, anyway. Later, she might regret having hastily scrawled down such utter rubbish, but at this point in time, all that mattered was that she got this essay to Professor Marsh immediately.
It wasn't like Lily to run late with her schoolwork. She'd built up a flawless reputation as Miss Diligent, always finishing her work before the due date and, of course, leaving time for proofreading. But with everything that had been going on lately - the unmanageable workloads from other subjects, the Marauder-Rogue scuffles, the Animagus scheme - punctuality had slipped out of Lily's grasp. She and the Rogues had spent uncountable hours in the Room of Requirement, practising until they were so exhausted that they could barely keep their eyes open. What time they didn't use for developing their latest plot against the Marauders was spent in the Common Room, where, at present, it was rather difficult to get any work done, what with patriotic Gryffindors running around chattering about the upcoming Quidditch game (the first of the season), first years exchanging animated tales of their first few flying lessons, and other such distractions.
To be honest, though, Lily couldn't blame her lack of focus entirely on the firsties and those die-hard Quidditch fanatics. It was her own thoughts that were taking her mind off the task at hand, and she was frustrated with herself for it. Why had her life picked this year, of all years, to suddenly become more interesting? ("Interesting" was a strange way to put it; Lily thought "complicated" probably summed it up more precisely.) Why couldn't her brain have waited until later to go all ADD on her?
With all these built-up roadblocks, Lily had, for the first time in her life, been unable to finish an assignment on time. It wasn't even a particularly difficult one - sixteen inches on the place of werewolves in wizarding society and their difficulty in gaining acceptance and understanding. They'd done plenty of research already in class - so much that Lily knew practically everything there was to know on the topic. But with this many things invading her thoughts, the ethics regarding semi-human magical beasts weren't something she could focus on.
"Please," she'd said desperately on Friday, grasping at the last (and very unreliable) straw, "I just need one more night to finish it. We've had so much homework from all the other subjects, and with Head Girl duties and everything... I'll bring it to you personally tomorrow morning." She'd stood still after that, watching Professor Marsh's eyes bugging out of their sockets. Whether it was with anger or astonishment, she wasn't sure - either way, it was a very ugly emotion, and Marsh's face distorted to the point where Lily actually wanted to cower, or run away as fast as she possibly could.
"Very well," Marsh grunted. "Since it is your first offense, I will give you the extra time. But if that essay isn't on my desk at nine o'clock sharp tomorrow morning, there will be serious repercussions, Miss Evans."
Lily could practically hear Marsh as a cinematic Muggle debt collector - "Money by tomorrow, Smith, or I'll kill your family." Lily shuddered at the comparison, mainly because it was so alarmingly accurate. With that deep, blunt tone, hideous expression, and not a single ounce of sympathy for anyone in her wake, Lily sometimes found it hard to believe that Marsh was almost sixty-five years old... and a woman.
In any case, Lily was indescribably relieved after exiting Marsh's stuffy classroom, and hurried back to the Common Room to start work on the essay - yes, she'd done more than just neglect an assignment; she'd also lied to a teacher about its current degree of completion.
"Cool it, Lils. You look like you're going to explode or something," Hannah (who had a far-from-perfect track record where assignments were concerned) continued to warn Lily when she went into one of her notorious Oh-Merlin-I'm-going-to-disappoint-a-teacher panic attacks. Still, Lily found it difficult to heed that advice, and stressed about it until she'd written the last sentence the next morning, after snatching three or four hours of sleep in between legs of essay-writing.
And that was how she found herself hurrying down the stairs at quarter to nine on a Saturday morning, Defence Against the Dark Arts essay in hand, complete with what was quite possibly the worst finishing sentence in academic history: "Werewolves are people too."
She wasn't sure what had made her write that. Well, come to think of it, she was sure - when it came down to the last half hour in which she could legitimately submit her essay and actually not lose marks, anything went. Even a four-word cliché that hardly summed up what she had written.
She took the stairs two at time as she descended, willing to tempt fate in this desperate bid to save her academic record. She stumbled once or twice, but managed to right herself and skip the last three stairs with a tremendous leap. She made the distance easily, and was quite impressed with herself - until she rammed, still airborne, into a passing figure.
Somehow, both she and the figure managed to remain upright, but she inadvertently grabbed the person's sleeve in order to stop herself from falling.
"Whoa!" they exclaimed in an all-too-familiar voice. "Evans? Are you okay? More importantly, why the hell are you in such a hurry on a Saturday?"
Lily, still in shock, was too amazed - mainly at the fact that she hadn't fallen on her face - to even look at the innocent-passerby-turned-punching-bag. Then she realised that two firm hands had gripped her elbows in order to keep her on her feet, and she looked nervously up at her victim/rescuer's face.
Of course. It was always had to be him.
She coughed, averting her eyes from James's amused hazel ones, and twisted out of his grasp. "No time for apologies, Potter. Gotta go. Bye!" she tossed over her shoulder as she hurried across the common room to the portrait hole. She could tell that she was blushing furiously, so she didn't look back as she exited the room; she had a feeling, though, that if she did, she would see Potter smirking at her from near the stairs.
Come to think of it, what was he doing, lurking so close to the bottom of the girls' staircase?
Lily dropped the essay in Marsh's office with as much urgency as possible, and was relieved to add it to a pile of equally tardy assignments. She didn't linger, though Marsh looked like she might say something to her, because she didn't want to think about what she had written, and how the teacher might react when she read it. As she crossed the corridor on the way back to the common room, she smacked her forehead with one palm and muttered to herself, "What the bloody hell was I thinking? 'Werewolves are people too'..."
"What?"
It was a mild, hesitant voice that came from behind her, and she spun around in surprise to find its owner not too many paces from where she stood. She blushed for the second time in about ten minutes, realising she'd been talking to herself in the corridor, where there would obviously be other people around to hear. Though what Remus Lupin was doing in the halls at barely nine o'clock in the morning, she had no idea.
"Err... sorry," she said, facepalming again. "It's just... I'm an idiot."
Remus regarded her strangely for a moment before shrugging. "Okay," he said.
"What, you're going to agree with me just like that?" she asked jokingly. Then she narrowed her eyes in thought. "Wait, what are you doing out here so early on a Saturday morning?"
Looking at her as if she really were an idiot, he paused for a few seconds, as if expecting her to suddenly remember something. When she continued to look at him blankly, he said, "You really didn't notice be walking behind you the whole way?"
Lily's eyes shot open. Oh, Merlin. What else had she done without realising she was being watched? She folded her arms and demanded of Remus, "Well, what are you, a stalker?"
This time, Remus just laughed. "Hell, Lily, were you wearing horse-blinders or something? I went to Professor Marsh to hand in my late essay. I came out of the common room just after you did, and I was going to say something, but you were walking so fast that I figured it best not to disturb you. Didn't you see me in Marsh's office, though? I was standing right next to you."
Lily was confused. "Err... no," she admitted, brushing the hair out of her face. Then she yawned. "Sorry. I guess I'm just out of it. My homework-to-sleep ratio's been a little off kilter lately, you know?"
"Oh, I know," said Remus, sounding genuinely sympathetic. "So hey, why was your essay late? I thought you were like... the perfect student."
Lily glared at him, not particularly pleased at the thought that this one little slip-up might tarnish her reputation for good. "Shut up. I've just had way too much going on lately." She decided it was best not to delve into what she'd had going on lately, lest she give anything away about the Rogues' newest plot, so she turned the accusations on him. "And I could say the exact same thing to you, Lupin," she challenged.
She regretted it as soon as she said it, because Remus's face turned inexplicably dark as he pondered over his answer. It looked like she'd touched on some sort of tender spot, like she'd mentioned something that he was too uncomfortable to talk about. She didn't know what to say - how could such a simple question be so intrusive?
Finally, Remus responded. "I had some trouble with my argument. I guess it was kind of... a difficult topic," he said vaguely, and shrugged again. "And I guess my brain's been clogged up with other stuff, too." He smiled almost sadly.
"Yeah," Lily said slowly, looking awkwardly at the floor. She wasn't sure how to respond to that. In actual fact, it wasn't that difficult a topic compared to the others they'd been given; "Comment on the ethics of using Unforgiveable Curses against dark forces in times of war" had been Marsh's favourite (because it was the biggest brain-buster, of course). In fact, Marsh seemed to have a thing for ethics, which was a death sentence for her students; she was a batty old lady set in her old-fashioned ways, and apparently, those who didn't agree with her deserved an automatic T.
"Anyway, shouldn't we head back?" Remus said suddenly.
Lily looked at the portrait hole, less than five metres away. Wow. She really was out of it. "Oh, right," she said, shaking her head in an attempt to rid it of this dreadful fuzziness. It didn't work.
Lily walked forward and uttered the password; the Fat Lady yawned, grumbled something unintelligible about "early risers" and "no respect", and grudgingly let them pass through. As Lily entered, Remus just behind her, she noticed that the common room was empty. Well, almost empty. There was James, off in a corner, writing something...
And two figures on one of the couches, locked in a tight embrace.
Lily didn't want to believe it at first, but that long, golden hair was unmistakable.
"Jamie?" she said in disbelief.
Potter, in the corner, half-turned at her words; Lily would have taken the time to find this comical ("Oh, does your mummy call you that at home?") if she hadn't been preoccupied. On the couch, the figures were startled. They pulled quickly apart, both flushed bright red, and Lily could see now that one of them was, in fact, Jamie. The other was Frank Longbottom.
Frank looked confused, as if wondering why Lily's surprised outburst was necessary. Then it dawned on Lily - Jamie's downward glances every time the subject of her relationship with Frank came up, her dodging the subject, her confusing declaration that she "wasn't closing any doors just yet"...
She was sure that her astonishment and sudden revelation was evident in her expression, but it was too difficult to suppress it. She was stunned, and, frankly - no pun intended - a little insulted. Jamie never had ended things with Frank. In fact, despite making it clear to her friends that she had little to no interest in the boy, she'd bound herself to him even further, deepening their relationship and making it even harder for herself to get out if she had to. It made sense that Frank looked so puzzled right now - as far as he knew, Lily was aware of their relationship, so there shouldn't be a problem with walking into the common room to be confronted with the sight of them making out. Even so, Frank was the kind of person who felt bad for anything - and he looked a little guilty now as Lily gawked at them both.
Jamie looked even more so. Her hair, loose around her shoulders, had fallen into her face; as she looked at her knees, she sheepishly tucked it behind her ear and straightened one of her unseasonal spaghetti straps.
For some reason, anger flared up in Lily's chest. How could Jamie have lied to her? How could they be best friends for seven years and still not be entirely honest with each other? More than that, though, Lily knew that what Jamie was doing was incredibly, unbearably stupid. She couldn't believe she would go to these lengths to prove whatever it was she was trying to prove.
Ironically, it wasn't until right then that she remembered who was standing beside her.
Remus's face was as cold and hard as slate, but not as blank. Hurt was etched into its every line, rage filling his narrowed, stormy eyes, confusion painted on his brow. Lily felt a pang of sympathy as she saw his hands begin the motion of clenching into fists, but fall limp at his sides when he (seemingly) thought better of it.
Lily considered pulling one of those classic "Can I talk to you for a minute?" things on Jamie, but she knew that if she spoke now, it would be through gritted teeth. For poor, oblivious Frank's case, at least, she had to give the illusion that everything was normal. She would chew Jamie out later if this anger lasted that long - which it probably would, thanks to her lack of sleep and recent wave of intense stress.
Also, Lily felt like she was intruding on something private. She felt like this maybe wasn't her business after all. Initially, she'd suspected it was that awkward feeling of invading a couple's privacy, seeing them so intimately together when they were trying - well, rather pathetically - not to be seen. Now, she realised it wasn't that at all. This had nothing to do with her, if you excluded Jamie's violating the best friend code. This, Lily could see now, was between Jamie, Frank and Remus. She'd read about love triangles before - hell, there'd been plenty within the walls of Hogwarts - but she'd never seen one so blatantly first hand.
Lily realised she'd been silent for a long time, so she tried to think of something to say.
"Err, sorry," she said, pushing her hair back from her face and startling herself with how James-like the nervous gesture was. (Was he rubbing off on her? She was going to have to do something about that...) "I sort of... uh... forgot you guys were together," she said dumbly. She was telling an outright lie here, so, for honesty's sake, she tried to add an element of truth to her excuse. "I only got like two hours of sleep last night. Forgive me." With that, she got out of there as fast as she possibly could. Her drowsiness took her to the dormitory staircase, where she promptly tripped over the first stair and whacked her knees on the cold marble. James snorted from his discrete location in the corner.
"Shut up, Potter," she spat, and continued on her way.
When she reached the top of the staircase, she exhaled in relief. She wanted nothing more than to collapse onto her bed, fall asleep, and not wake up until the year was over. Maybe she could create some sort of Lily replica (How much could you do with Boggarts these days, anyway?) to do all her assignments for her and figure out what to do about James, and about Jamie's strange rebellion, and Hannah's questionable motives... and, well, mostly just James.
Before she could put any part of her plan into effect, Lily looked over to her right and caught sight of something that, quite possibly, would delay its execution. Rosalie Williams sat on the bed closest to the entrance, her arm around a sobbing Alice Hanby.
Lily froze in the doorway, once again experiencing that feeling of being completely out of place. This time it was intensified by the fact that, when she walked into the dormitory, both girls stopped whispering and looked up at her (Alice with exceptionally red eyes).
Lily sighed in frustration. "What, do you want me to leave or something?" Lily didn't mean to sound so snappy, but again, she was tired. The relationship between the Rogues and the two other seventh year Gryffindor girls had never really extended beyond polite; they were on good terms, but they tended to get on each other's nerves every so often, even if nobody said so straight out. Alice and Rosalie had often accused the Rogues of being too exclusive and considering themselves superior; on the other hand, the two of them were an extremely tight-knit pair of childhood friends - sort of like Hannah and Regan, only they were all secrets and whispering, while the latter laid everything out in the open as a result of their rambunctious personalities.
Right now, Rosalie looked vaguely sympathetic as she spoke, but not entirely friendly. "Sorry. This is kind of private. Could you give us ten minutes or so?"
Lily barely had the energy to shrug. "Sure," she said, and turned to leave, stifling a yawn. Just then, she realised something. "Hey, just before I go - where are Hannah and Regan?"
Rosalie sounded impatient as she said, "Blondie's been in the bathroom for about an hour, hogging all the hot water. And the other one said something stupid about climbing up to the roof." She rolled her eyes at that last part. Lily knew exactly what that meant, though Rosalie was totally oblivious; ever since achieving her first transformation, Regan had become rather fond of "stretching her wings", as she liked to call it, in the mornings. Lily had no idea where she got to during these rounds, but she was admittedly a little envious of her friend's new ability, and wondered why she'd chosen such a pathetically fragile, wimpy animal for her own Animagus form.
"Uh, okay, thanks," Lily said, and headed back down the stairs.
She was halfway down when she realised how cold it was, and wished she'd grabbed a sweater from her trunk before disappearing. Now it was too late; she'd been ordered to make herself scarce by Rosalie and Alice, and she'd vowed to do the same for Jamie and her small, unfortunate entourage. She was going to have to brave the crisp autumn air in an old white t-shirt and jeans. She could always stalk up and down the corridors for a couple of hours, but at least she could sit down outside without attracting attention. And sitting down was a must, because she feared her legs were soon going to give out from exhaustion.
When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she was surprised to find the common room completely empty. Well, again, not completely empty. This time, there was no Jamie and no Frank. Even Remus had left, but James remained in his corner, pondering over a piece of parchment with what looked like deep concentration.
"Where'd everyone go?" Lily mumbled, a little confused. After all, it had only been about a minute since she'd left them alone down here.
James looked up abruptly, as if not expecting to see anybody there, and told her, "Remus kind of grunted and walked off, but I'm not sure about the other two. Probably went to find some real privacy."
Lily frowned at that, although she wasn't sure why. Frank was a good guy, and she didn't have that much of a problem with Jamie seeing him. It was her motives that Lily was concerned about, and the fact that this whole business just didn't seem right.
"What are you doing back down here already?" James asked, his eyebrows knitted together. Lily wasn't sure, but she thought he sounded almost concerned. "You looked like a total zombie before. Scratch that - you still look like a zombie."
Lily was almost too tired to retort. "Apparently I'm not wanted up there," she said, though it came out muffled thanks to another yawn. "And hey, that hurt."
James shrugged. "It's true, though. You should go back to sleep if you're that tired."
"Can't," Lily said with a shake of her head. "Exiled, remember?" she said, pointing back at the staircase. "'Sides, I'm going outside... fresh air or something..."
James looked somewhat amused, probably because at her inability to form complete sentences. Feeling way too sluggish even to think, Lily shuffled off toward the portrait hole. Halfway there, she noticed the couch. It looked so tempting right now, when all she wanted to do was lie down. So soft and red, and so much closer to a bed than anything else she was likely to find around here...
Before she knew it, she'd crossed the distance to the couch and collapsed into the velvety cushions. She drifted off quickly, not noticing the quiet laughter from across the room, and was soon very deeply asleep. She didn't have the capacity to dream in this state - but, had she been able, there was no doubt she would have been dreaming of the boy in the corner.
James received the letter late on Friday night. His family owl, Soot (named as such thanks to a disastrous episode involving the owl, several important parcels and a large fireplace), was very impatient, and so she often came to visit James in the common room when she had something to deliver. This time, she'd tapped her beak incessantly on the window until one of the first years noticed and alerted James, calling him "Mister Head Boy" and sending Sirius into a fit of manic laughter.
Soot, whose feathers were almost all black, came barrelling in when James opened the window, landed on his head, bit him several times and proceeded to attack her own foot until James managed to snip the string for her and remove the envelope. She sat on the windowsill until he fed her a piece of bacon that Peter had "saved" in his pocket from breakfast, and flew away looking more like a bat than an owl as she zigzagged across the night sky.
When he began to read, the first few sentences made his heart sink.
James,
There has been a brutal Death Eater attack on your father's Auror troupe.
He took the brunt of the attack - at least six Cruciatus curses to the chest.
In critical condition, but expected to make at least a partial recovery.
Will keep you updated when there is time - don't fret too much.
No place is safe anymore, James. Please take care of yourself.
Hope all is well,
Mum
He'd read it through twice, just to be sure he'd read it all correctly. Afterward, he was too stunned to do anything but sit down and stare at the letter without actually taking in any of what was written. His father was one of the strongest Aurors - one of the strongest men - James had ever known. The fact that he could be taken down so easily by a hoard of Death Eaters was, in short, disturbing. James had always thought his father could take on anything, but clearly, he'd been wrong. He was only expected to make a partial recovery - that meant he probably wouldn't be working as an Auror again.
He read the last part of his mother's letter once more. "No place is safe anymore, James. Please take care of yourself." He knew what that meant, and the thought of it chilled his core - it meant that times were getting dangerous, that Voldemort and his army were on the rise, and that there would soon be attacks much worse than the one on his father and the other Aurors.
"'Sup, Prongsie?" a booming voice had said from his left. He looked up to find Sirius standing there, holding a butterbeer in one hand (no doubt skilfully smuggled from the kitchens) and a daintier hand in the other. The hand belonged to a tall black-haired girl who James didn't recognise by name, but who he'd seen in passing several times. She was slender and exotic-looking, with thick eyelashes and a sharply angled jaw. James thought she might be a Ravenclaw.
"Uh... nothing," James replied, folding up the letter and shoving it back into its envelope. There was no way he would hide something like this from his best friend, but there was also no way he was going to blurt it out when he had an unfamiliar girl practically hanging off his arm. He gave Sirius a reprimanding glance, but only in jest, and tipped his head at the girl. "She's not in Gryffindor."
Sirius shrugged guiltily. "But you're going to let it slide like a good little Head Boy, aren't you, James?" The girl giggled at this, even though it wasn't particularly funny. James wondered if she was a new love interest or the beginning of an all-too-obsessive Sirius Fan Club.
James sighed. "I guess so. But don't let anybody else see you." He added as an afterthought, raising an eyebrow as a sort of warning, "And that means no going upstairs."
"Fine. I'm just giving her the grand tour, anyway - you know, showing her where all the cool people live."
Sirius and the girl walked off, the latter leaving a trail of brainless giggling in her wake, and James was left alone. It dawned on him that Sirius hadn't so much as introduced the girl he was with. Come to think of it, it was likely that even Sirius didn't know her name, let alone anything about her. That was how it went these days - he put even less effort into his flings than he used to, mostly because (as James suspected) they were just meaningless distractions. He knew Sirius had been troubled lately, and confused as hell, just like the rest of the Marauders seemed to be. Well, all except Peter - but Peter was always confused, so there was nothing novel in pointing that out.
The following morning, after sleeping not so restfully, James came downstairs with the intention of writing a letter in reply to his mother's. He wasn't sure what to say - his mother was all manners and formalities, having married into one of England's most well off wizarding families (and a Pureblood one at that), so her letters were always short, sweet, and straight to the point. James knew he should express his concern, but trying to envisage the exact words proved rather tricky.
When he sat down in a remote corner of the common room to write, he realised he'd run out of ink. He could go up to the boys' dormitories to get some more from his trunk, but that would risk waking somebody up - and, just now, he didn't particularly feel like spending his morning entertaining Sirius.
The convenient thing about Hogwarts was that, as a castle, it provided many nooks, crannies, shortcuts, and other hidden places - most of which very few people had discovered. It was nothing short of a playground for the Marauders, who'd probably found more of the castle's secrets than any other students in the last few decades. James knew for a fact that the castle had a few hidden compartments in the walls where ink or quills would appear whenever somebody had the need for extra school supplies. Their apparition worked something like the Room of Requirement - one only had to walk past, thinking deeply about their need for stationery, and a little hollowed out spot in the wall would open.
James knew where most of these were located, so finding them wasn't a problem. What was a problem was that the only one nearby was located in the stairwell that lead to the girls' dormitories.
This wasn't usually much trouble for the Marauders. They could overcome the enchantment on the stairwells (which, quite frankly, James would have expected to be a little more foolproof) simply by transforming, because it was designed to keep out male humans, not animals, and Animagus magic was very strong.
It wasn't even nine yet, and it was a Saturday - how likely was he to get caught at this hour? He looked around him, comforted by the confirmation that the common room was still empty. He made his way slowly over to the stairwell, weighing up his chances - and that was when he was hit by a flying redhead.
She came as if out of nowhere, though he knew very well she had come from the staircase. She hit him at full force, and only his quick reflexes stopped them both from plummeting to the stone floor. His hands shot out and took hold of her elbows, cutting off her momentum and keeping the both of them on their feet. It was more a reflexive reaction than anything, but the feeling of holding her so close to him, but though not quite as close as he would like... it was both wonderful and excruciating at the same time.
They held eye contact for a couple of seconds, Lily stunned and James a mixture of baffled and amused. James vaguely remembered asking her what she was doing up so early, and she had hesitated momentarily, as if she couldn't find the words. And then she was gone with little more than a brief excuse thrown over her shoulder as she hustled from the room.
Now, an hour or so had passed, and the very same redhead was asleep on the couch about ten metres from where James sat, still contemplating his unfinished letter. He'd heard her making to the leave the room, but she stopped about halfway to the portrait hole and unceremoniously merged with the cushions. Soon enough, her breathing became slow and rhythmic; James knew she had fallen asleep.
It took all the self-control in his body to stay seated and not take the half dozen steps or so that would bring him closer to her sleeping form - it was difficult to say why, but now that she was unconscious and oblivious to his stares, there was a certain pull toward her, not to mention a strange sort of curiosity. When she was awake, he felt like he couldn't approach her without risking arguing, awkwardness or some mixture of the two; now that she was asleep, there was none of that. Unless she woke up and saw him looking at her. Yes, that would definitely be a problem.
Unfortunately, seven years of being friends with Sirius Black didn't exactly yield many lessons in self-restraint. Before he knew it, James found himself getting up and quietly making his way over to the sitting area by the fire.
There she was, curled up awkwardly at one end of the couch, fiery hair sprayed over the cushions. There was something peaceful about a sleeping Lily Evans; no yelling, none of that fierce astuteness that she possessed in her waking hours. On the other hand, there was something not entirely relaxed about her face; James wondered if she worried about her friends even while asleep. She shivered suddenly, and it was no wonder - a t-shirt in the middle of autumn? Evans had to be mad. Then again, he'd always known that she was... just a little. It was one of the things he liked about her.
Fortunately, James had just enough self-restraint to fight the urge to reach out and touch her like he wanted so badly to do. Instead, he pulled a blanket from the armchair closest to the fire place and carefully draped it over her sleeping form. He sat down on the opposite couch and watched, waiting for the shivering to stop. It did, and he smiled to himself, finally tearing his eyes away from her.
"So... why was Lily acting so strangely?"
Jamie looked up from her knees to meet Frank's questioning gaze. "Hmm?" She'd heard him correctly, but after dodging the topic since the pair had abandoned the common room for a more private alcove on the fourth floor, she still wasn't sure how to respond to that question.
"Lily, your friend. She looked really surprised to see us together." Frank left it hanging at that, and Jamie faltered. She stared at him for a couple of seconds, hoping her brain could come up with an answer that would roll smoothly off her tongue, and perhaps sound vaguely believable - but instead, her brain shut off altogether as if to say, "Sorry, pal, but this one's on you."
Trying to keep her cool, Jamie sighed and half-shrugged. (Yeah, real convincing.) "I honestly have no idea," she started. "I guess... maybe she didn't know how serious things had gotten between us." She chanced another look up at him, and was pleased to note that his eyes betrayed a considerable amount of understanding.
"But she's your best friend, right? Doesn't that mean you tell her everything? I mean, even Carter and I have the occasional heart-to-heart, and we're guys."
Jamie giggled at that, but her heart wasn't in it. What he'd just said had switched her brain back on, and she realised several things at once. It was like a trigger going off in her mind - a trigger that set off a chain reaction. The result was near-catastrophic.
One, Frank really was a great guy. Better than she deserved. How much had she put him through? How much had he endured without once getting fed up with her antics, without putting his foot down and saying, "You know what? You're not worth it"? Truthfully, Jamie realised now, she'd almost been hoping he'd do something along those lines. If he'd ended things a long time ago, she'd have been okay with that. In fact, it would have been a tremendous relief. But with the relationship at her own disposal, things became more complicated - she'd never been very good at identifying how she felt, but convincing herself of feelings she didn't have? That was one talent she did possess. She saw that now. She knew that she'd lead him on, whether intentionally or not, in order to fulfil her own selfish motives. And Frank... Frank didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of it. Not at all.
Two, Frank - poor, abused Frank - had a point. Lily was her best friend. They were supposed to tell each other everything. And what had she done? She'd lied to her face on multiple occasions - about Frank, about her feelings, about Remus...
That brought her to number three. Whether or not she liked it, there was something about Remus Lupin that made him impossible to get out of her head. Seeing him standing there in the common room with that look on his face - angry, confused and devastated all at the same time - had been unbearable. Why on earth had she put him through that when, really, it was the last thing she wanted to do? She was an idiot. If Frank was first on her apology list, and Lily second, then Remus was a definite third. But she owed him much more than a simple apology.
And fourth: she was a horrible, horrible person.
"Jamie?" Frank interrupted her thoughts, looking at her with deep concern. "Are you alright? You're crying." He took her hand tenderly in one of his, and with the other, brushed away the tears that Jamie hadn't even realised were falling.
She looked sadly up at him. "Frank," she said, and her voice cracked. Slowly but surely, she moved her hand out of his grasp. He looked confused, but let her go. Jamie bit her lip. "I'm sorry, but I can't do this to you. It isn't fair."
"What isn't fair, Jamie?" He reached out for her hand again, but she pulled it away and stood up in one swift motion. She knew she was going to have to face him - come clean about everything - but now wasn't the time. In this state, she didn't know if she could formulate a proper sentence, let alone explain all the terrible things she had done without sending Frank off the deep end.
"I have to go," she said, and turned to leave. She walked briskly down the corridor, trying desperately to hold back the sobs that were threatening to escape - and failing. She only made it down one flight of stairs before she started to shake uncontrollably, and slipped into the crevice between two suits of armour opposite a solid wall, hugging her knees. She knew she wasn't completely invisible, but it would have to do for now.
Jamie sat there and cried, her face buried in her robes, over everything that had suddenly built up inside her; guilt for what she had done to Frank, regrets about the distance she had inadvertently let grow between herself and her best friend, and worry over Remus... Did he hate her now? Oh, who was she kidding? Who wouldn't hate her by this point?
Most of all, she marvelled at what a bitch she had been for the past month or so. Who'd have thought that sweet, quiet little Jamie Love would turn out to be the bad guy, so to speak?
She hated herself for breaking down like this. She had no right to be upset; she'd hurt people over the past few weeks, but they'd done nothing to hurt her. She couldn't help it, though - it was all too much to take at once. She'd been pushing these feelings out of her mind for a long time, and now that they all came rushing back in at once... it was an emotional overload.
Footsteps - swift but hesitant - echoed up and down the corridor. A sob caught in Jamie's throat as she feared it might be Frank, coming after her to see what was wrong. There was no way she could face him right now, and hopefully, he understood that she needed some time and space to think.
But it wasn't Frank. A lanky, easily-recognisable figure stopped in front of her, his forehead creased as he obviously tried to decide what to do with the situation. She didn't blame him, especially after this morning.
"Go away," Jamie growled in spite of herself.
Remus scoffed. "You're telling me to leave? That's rich."
Jamie sniffed. "I'm... sorry."
Remus shook his head as if completely fed up with her. "You know, this morning, I was actually thinking about talking to you. Trying to work things out. But then I saw you with Frank, and..." The anger was plain on his face. "I heard you when you'd taken the Veritaserum - you don't even like him. I can't believe you would string him along like that."
Jamie stood up unsteadily; she wasn't sure how much more of this she could take. It was only ten-thirty in the morning, and yet she'd already reached her emotional quota for the day. It was time to go back to the dormitories and try to make sense of things.
"I wasn't stringing him along," she hissed at Remus, not because she was angry with him personally, but because she wanted him to shut up and stop rubbing salt in her self-inflicted wounds. "I didn't mean to hurt Frank! I was just confused, okay?"
Remus let out a noise of frustration. "You're always confused, Jamie. And you know what? I'm sick of waiting for you to make up your mind." He turned as if to leave, but Jamie had just thought of something, and she wasn't ready to let him go that easily.
"And what about you, huh?" She was hoarse at first, but she soon found her voice. "One minute you're trying to talk to me, and the next you turn around and get all defensive, as if you don't want me around at all. You've always got 'things going on', and since you won't even tell me what they are, I don't think you have any right to be angry with me."
Remus turned to her, a dark look in his eyes. "That is completely different." He paused, staring into her eyes with an expression so fierce that she shivered involuntarily. "And I might have secrets, Jamie, but at least I'm not a liar."
He was right, she knew. Her face crumpled as the tears came again, and though she put a hand to her mouth to quell the sobs, they would not stop. She opened her mouth to excuse herself, but instead, she exploded.
"DON'T YOU THINK I'VE ALREADY THOUGHT ABOUT THAT, REMUS? Did you think I was just wallowing in self pity, sitting down here all alone? I know I'm a liar, I know I've hurt a lot of people, and I know that I'm the most horrid person in the world, okay?" Feeling shaky on her legs, she planted her forearms angrily against the wall and put her head between her fists. "So thank you for your comments, because they're completely true, but I've already REALISED all of this. So can you please just leave me alone to figure things out?"
Remus was silent for a long time. For a moment, Jamie thought he might have simply walked away - but then he cleared his throat and spoke in a softer tone. "You want me to leave you alone... in this state?"
Jamie turned to him with as much heat in her eyes as she could muster. "Yes."
"You're a right mess, Jamie. At least let me get you-"
"FINE," Jamie snapped, taking her arms off the wall. "I'll leave."
As she strode past him, he reached out and grabbed her by the upper arm. Before she knew it, her face was inches from his, she could feel his rapid breaths rush past her ears, and his cologne, mixed with his natural scent, was so overpowering that she felt her knees growing weak. Fearfully, she looked into his grey eyes; there was no end to their depth as he stared into her, seemingly trying to read her emotions.
"What is it that you want, Jamie?" he breathed. Their eye contact remained steady.
Jamie swallowed. "I want..." Oh, Merlin, his lips were so close to hers. Another couple of inches and she could kiss him, throwing everything out into the open. That would be her answer. She knew that was supposed to be her answer. The pull was as strong as gravity, and, she realised now, she was completely ready for this - she had been for quite some time - but...
She stopped herself.
Did she really deserve this right now? Not ten minutes ago, she'd walked away from Frank yet again without giving him an ample explanation for what was going on. She hadn't apologised to Lily, hadn't really come to terms with the kind of person she'd become - this was hardly the time to be rewarding herself.
"I... I don't know what I want," she whispered, her forehead creasing miserably in contemplation.
And that was it. She'd blown it. His jaw was set, his eyes became as solid as the stone walls surrounding them, and he turned away, letting go of her.
"I'm sorry, Remus," she said to his back as he strode away, but he did nothing in response - only continued to walk until he was out of sight.
Jamie stood there for who-knew-how-long, staring blankly down the corridor at the place where he'd turned the corner and disappeared. Then, snapping out of that trance, she pulled herself together as best she could and headed in the opposite direction with no particular destination in mind.
She could still feel his touch on her arm when she stepped outside into the biting wind.
When Hannah stepped out of the bathroom that morning, she was met with two very peculiar sights.
One, Alice - little Alice Hanby, who always had a smile for everyone - was curled up into a ball on her bed in the far corner, sobbing. Rosalie sat next to her with a copy of Witch's Weekly, looking worried and stroking her friend's dark hair.
"Hey, is she okay?" Hannah asked, genuinely concerned. She and the others had never been all that close to the two of them, but Alice was a generally a very upbeat person, and it was strange to see her like this, completely defeated.
Rosalie looked up at her. "Sorry, but it's none of your business," she said coolly. Hannah was a little shocked at the ice in her tone; it was almost accusatory, but of what, she didn't know.
"Okay," she said. "I'm heading down to breakfast. Do you need me to bring anything back from the kitchens?"
Rosalie looked annoyed, as if Hannah should have taken the hint before and left them alone. "No," she said, "but would you mind not hogging the bathroom in the future? You were in there for like an hour."
Hannah froze; they'd noticed? But of course they had. The dorm wasn't exactly a very private place for broken-hearted girls to go and cry their eyes out; the bathroom would have been their first choice, but it had been occupied. For a very long time. In fact, an hour sounded about right.
"Sorry," she said, "I lost track of time."
"Whatever," said Rosalie. "Oh, and that bird's been attacking the window for half the morning. Do you think you could get rid of it?"
"Yes, your Highness," Hannah wanted to say, but instead, she said, "What bird?" and looked at the window, where her question was answered, and where her eyes met Peculiar Sight Number Two. A great scarlet macaw stood on the window sill, wings flapping and beak tapping sharply against the pane. She wondered why she hadn't heard the racket before, but then, there were always weird noises around Hogwarts, and this one didn't stand out as particularly odd.
"Regan," Hannah muttered, shaking her head. "You're trouble, you are." Clearly, she wanted to be let in. She glanced over at Rose and Alice; neither was paying attention, but it would still be risky, bringing bird-Regan into the dormitory. Hannah had just emerged from the bathroom and Rosalie knew that, so if she chucked the bird in there and a bathrobe-clad Regan emerged not ten seconds later, it wouldn't make physical sense. In the interests of keeping their secret safe, there had to be another way.
"Shit," Hannah said to herself, pacing a couple of metres back and forth while trying to come up with a plan. There were bound to be at least a couple of people in the common room by now, so that obviously wasn't an option. The corridor? No, the windows there were far too high, so there would be no way for Hannah to get one open. The owlery would be the obvious option, were it only a couple hundred metres closer...
Then she had it.
Hastily, she snatched a quill and parchment from Lily's bedside table - on one side of the parchment, she noticed, was a messily-drawn snitch - and scrawled a quick note.
You bloody bird, why didn't you think of this before?
Meet me at the Room of Requirement - you know how to get there (duh). I'll bring clothes.
You're an idiot.
- Han
She pressed the note up to the glass. She could have sworn the macaw glared at her, but maybe she was just imagining things (who was she kidding? Of course the macaw glared at her. This was Regan, for crying out loud). Then, it nodded almost imperceptibly and flew off. Hannah snatched a bed sheet before she, too, took off.
Hannah knew the way to the Room of Requirement well; the Rogues had held countless practice sessions in there in the past few weeks, though little progress, aside from partial transformations, had been made of late. Hannah suspected it was the stress that was getting to them - school-related as well as Marauder-related - and this made sense; Regan, who'd had a lot of success in the transformation department, was currently experiencing very few Marauder troubles and didn't give a damn about school.
By the time she reached the tapestry, she had a clear purpose in mind - to get into a room with a window. It was nice and simple, so she had no trouble getting the door to appear, and slipped through even before it had grown to its full size. There was a window, alright - nice and big and so spotless that Regan flew into it face first.
Hannah couldn't contain her laughter. The Regan-bird, on the other hand, was furious, and once Hannah had let her in, she wouldn't stop squawking.
"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," said Hannah. "Can you change back now?"
Regan squawked again and made a strange motion with her wing.
"What?"
The bird, looking impatient, hopped in the air and turned 180 degrees.
"Oh, right," said Hannah, understanding dawning upon her. "Well, here you are." She tossed the bed sheet down next to Regan and turned around, strolling to the other side of the room.
"You call this clothes?"
Hannah turned around to see a fully human Regan wrapping the sheet around herself. "Well, yeah. It's the best I could do with such short notice."
"You don't aim very high, do you?" She was trying to secure the sheet around every square inch of her body, and failing miserably. "As heavy as they were, I would have carried my real clothes back from the roof if I'd known you were this pathetic. I am not walking back to the common room dressed like this."
"Oh, come on, Reegs," Hannah pleaded as she headed for the door. "Nobody's even up yet, anyway. Well, a few people are, but it's a Saturday, and we can take a detour. Promise."
For the second time in less than two weeks, Regan found herself forced to traipse the corridors in an undesirable clothing situation - except this time, instead of wearing too much, she was wearing far too little. Much to Regan's pleasure - and Hannah's disappointment - they didn't pass a soul in the corridors (well, except for Nearly Headless Nick, but he barely counted. And besides, all he did was make a face of severe disapproval and float through the ceiling muttering, "Kids these days...").
"Looks like it's your lucky day, Reegs," Hannah acknowledged as they approached the Fat Lady's portrait. "I forgot to ask - how did you get stuck outside, anyway? Couldn't you have just used the main entrance? Or the astronomy tower? Or something?"
Regan shook her head. "In case you hadn't noticed, birds aren't very good at opening things. And actually, I changed back a couple of times when I was sure nobody was looking, and everything was locked. I used the passage from the dungeons to get out, just so nobody saw me, you know, but when I tried to get back in, that idiot Lupin was sitting right by the trapdoor looking all broody. I guess the Marauders know about that one, too."
"The Marauders know about passages even we haven't found, Regan," Hannah said with an annoyance that wasn't directed at her sheet-clad best friend. "But yeah, that's strange. Maybe they've upped the security on the school or something?"
"Yeah, sure. Like Hogwarts could get any more secure."
"Password?"
Hannah drew her wand and flicked it at the portrait. "Alohomora!"
"Hey!" the Fat Lady protested as her picture smacked into the wall at full force. "I'll have you expelled for that! Expelled, I tell you!"
"Yeah, whatever," said Hannah, stowing her wand. "I've always wanted to see if that worked."
"So much for security," Regan said with a shrug, and made to give her friend a high-five. "On second thought... er, I think I need both hands to keep this sheet up."
Although they'd been lucky in not running into anybody in the corridors, they weren't so fortunate here; of all the people to have as witnesses of an embarrassing moment, Sirius Black was quite possibly the worst. There were others, too, but they did little more than point and quietly laugh, and were silenced by a classic Regan Death Glare. With Sirius, it wasn't quite so easy.
"Tain, are you... naked... under that?" he asked in bewilderment, his eyes lighting up with the kind of the joy that only comes from seeing one of your worst enemies suffer complete humiliation. "Wow. And to think we had nothing to do with this..."
"Yeah," said Regan, striding past as quickly as possible. "You wish you'd had something to do with this."
"Touché," Sirius replied with a wink.
Hannah snorted and went to follow Regan, offering Sirius a swift kick in the shin on the way by. He was unfazed.
"Hey, Milton, don't you want to see what I've found?" he asked jovially.
Hannah glared at him. "And what did you find, Black? Some poor second year's diary? Some pathetic innuendo scratched into the window sill? Oh, wait, I've got it - a hippogriff turd?"
"Actually," said Sirius, "better than a hippogriff turd. Look."
He gestured at the two couches next to the fire; Hannah followed his gaze and nearly laughed out loud at what she saw there (she only restrained herself in a solid refusal to give him that satisfaction) - Lily, fast asleep on one couch, and James, snoring away on the one opposite hers. Hannah had been in such a hurry on her way out that she mustn't have noticed it before, but these two had clearly been out cold for a while; there was static in Lily's hair and James's clothes were all rumpled.
"Okay, Black, I have to admit," Hannah said with a half-smile, "this is a pretty damn good find."
"Yup," Sirius said proudly. "By the looks of it, they're not going to wake up for a while yet." He glanced at Hannah, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "So, if you're thinking what I'm thinking..."
Hannah raised an eyebrow. "Face it, Black - no one is ever thinking what you're thinking." Then she looked at the two couches, only metres apart, and the two sleeping figures - and then back at Sirius. "Except me, right now. Let's go."
Sirius grinned. "Excellent."
Neither Lily nor James so much as stirred as their couches were being dragged across the wood floor. For the first time in... well, the first time ever (if you excluded every Quidditch match they had ever played in, because Quidditch in itself was an anomaly where the Marauders and the Rogues were concerned) Hannah and Sirius worked together toward a common goal. When they were finished, they stood back and admired their handiwork.
Now, instead of being several arms' lengths apart, the two couches were pushed together, their occupants so close that their faces were nearly touching. Where Lily's right hand had once been hanging off the couch, it was now draped across James' left one. Even this - which had been Hannah's idea - hadn't woken either of them; in fact, the two looked even more peaceful now that they were only inches apart.
"Wow," Hannah said. "To think you actually came up with this..."
Sirius smirked. "I guess I'll take that as a compliment. But I have to say, the hand thing - that just tops it all off."
Hannah laughed. "Oh, hell, I can't wait until they wake up."
They got their wish an hour later, when they were both seated by the window, close to falling asleep themselves. They hadn't said a word the entire time; they just sat there, watching, waiting, and wondering how on earth they were sitting next to one another without getting the urge to rip each other's heads off.
Then, at half past eleven, a scream.
A couple of enraged cries.
Some beating with a pillow.
A whole lot of confusion.
And then...
"SIRIUS!"
"What the hell?" Sirius complained. "Why do they always bl-"
"Run!" Hannah urged, tugging at Sirius' sleeve.
"Where?"
"The portrait hole!"
The pair bolted out the door, slamming a furious Fat Lady back into her frame on the way out. "YOU AGAIN!" she screeched. "I'LL HAVE YOU MOVED TO SLYTHERIN, I WILL! GET BACK HERE, SCALLYWAG! I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU!"
When they were safely down several of flights of stairs and hidden around a corner, Sirius turned to Hannah, panting. "You make enemies quick, don't you?"
"Oh, it's part of my natural charm," Hannah retorted, her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. "'Sides, she's got something up her butt."
"Yeah, something big." Sirius coughed. "Man, are we going to have to get in shape for the Quidditch season or what?"
"You? In shape? Don't make me laugh."
Just then, a nearby door swung open and out stepped Peter, looking ruffled. "Sirius!" he exclaimed, stumbling toward his friend. "Thank Merlin you're here! I've been locked in that classroom all night - some third year shoved me in, and I only just realised it was unlocked the whole-" He seemed to notice Hannah's presence for the first time, and was so taken aback that he literally took two steps backward. He glanced between the two of them, standing side by side without the slightest hint of hostility, and gave them a look that suggested the laws of the universe had been shattered.
"Are you serious?" he asked, dumbstruck.
Sirius scoffed. "Of course I am," he said. "Who else would I be?"
A/N: Ah, yes... it just wouldn't be a chapter of TMATR if I didn't throw in a completely ridiculous Peter scene. I love torturing him. But you know that already.
Sorry about the lame ending (it seems everything about this chapter is lame... or maybe I just have a very limited vocabulary). It's just that I've always wanted to finish off on a Sirius pun... so I did. YAY. I probably shouldn't do it again.
Anyway, next time, we'll finish the lead-up to TBDO (The Big Dramatic One), and I'll hopefully be able to give Lames some more screen time. In the mean time, why not leave a review? If not for the awesomeness (cough) of this chapter, then how about my incredible poetry skills? "Screen time"/"mean time"? You know? Yeah, maybe not...