- Chapter VI -
Battle Tactics

"DON'T YOU DARE TALK DOWN TO ME YOU BASTARD!"

Tables are upturned, shielding terrified members of the house from the many fatal weapons flying around the room.

"I'm shaking in my boots, love."

Portraits are screaming, running back and forth between their neighbors, desperately searching for a way out.

"You make me sick!"

First years are running away, around, and into each other as they attempt to escape, chased by their own shrieks of fear.

"Oh, you're just saying that."

It's anarchy.

She stands in the center of it all, the air around her so charged with fury, that if you listen closely you can almost hear it crackle.

Just as we walk in, a shoe flies toward us with deadly precision at Black's forehead. He waves his wand lazily, turning it into a bunch of feathers that soar through the air and land on him.

He shakes his head easily, without a care in the world, unburdened as a puppy. "You'll have to do better than that, love."

Taking advantage of a momentary ceasefire as Mina frantically looks around for something else to throw at Black, Remus and Tessa run into the room and fling themselves behind a table with the rest of our year. They seem very well-versed in battle tactics.

I'm not sure if I should be impressed or alarmed.

I attempt to walk in and throw myself behind Tessa, but James grabs my hand and pulls me into a small corner next to the entrance of the portrait hole.

I think we are virtually invisible. That suits me just fine, considering.

Except that my vision is slightly blocked from here. I hear a growl. I'm pretty sure that's Mina.

I can see half of her out of my left eye. I never thought I'd say this about someone I consider to be my best friend, but I think it's time to send her to the loony bin. She'd fit in well there. Make friends. Adjust. And you know, possibly not kill anyone.

She whirls around, and the first thing I see about her is her eyes. And her general lack of sanity, but mostly her eyes.

Not that she lacked eyes before today, but today, right this moment, she has the eyes.

Like the ones you see in cheap horror movies, where the main villain has a moment of pure insanity and their face goes rigid, while flames explode behind their eyes. So much, that in fact if her stare was directed at me, I'd be rather alarmed that she'd be scorching holes straight through my flesh.

A long, strangled scream erupts suddenly, exploding from deep within her chest, as many useless objects come flying toward Black: quills, ink bottles, a copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, a bag of firecrackers belonging to a sulking first year who had to give it up in order to escape Mina's wrath, and what appears to be a purple Pygmy Puff shrieking in terror.

This time, however, his wand isn't enough. In desperation, Black has to fling himself behind the notice board, the inkbottles narrowly missing his head and smashing into the black surface, causing several fourth years hiding behind it to scream, run away and look for another shield.

The book, finding nothing to chomp at, shuffles around the floor, snapping at people's ankles and robes aimlessly. Meanwhile, the Pygmy Puff hits a third year boy square in the eye, who now looks like he's got a second purple nose growing out of his face.

Seeing their fellow battle compadre battling to get the shrieking Pygmy Puff to retract its claws and dismount his face, the kids proceed to look like they're about to piss themselves.

Honestly, I don't blame them. I even internally congratulate them for being able to control their bladders at this point.

If they only knew Mina as well as I. If they only knew the sad, pathetic victims of her last rage blackout. If they only knew that last year she sent three guys, all of them almost three times her height and in 7th year, to the hospital wing owing to a severe case of their faces being covered in multicolored boils, accompanied by delightful green tentacles protruding from their every available orifice. I needed therapy for months. I didn't receive it, of course. And that is a large part of why I am like this.

She doesn't have an anger management problem, strictly speaking. She has an anger problem.

James is shrinking lower and lower behind me.

Coward.

He's really hiding for no reason, though. He's silly enough to think that she'll spare me if I get in her way. I long ago learned that angry Mina takes no prisoners. Hard lesson, that was.

"OI!" Black shrieks emerging form behind the notice board, breathing heavily now as he dodges another ink bottle thrown in his general direction. "You just threw a Puff at me! What the hell is your bleeding problem? "

He still doesn't have the guts to let her see his whole body; he's still partially covered, only his head is visible, because she still has a thick, black book in her hand, which could be flying at his head at any momen –

Oh, there it goes.

Huh.

Never knew books could physically bounce off people. Black's head seems to be an elasticated surface.

Someone's laughing.

Is it me? Have I finally lost it? Oh, dear.

Oh, wait.

That's not me. I'm not going mad.

It's some of the 6th years suppressing bouts of laughter behind their hands. I'd like to see them in Black's situation. Would you still be giggling like a schoolgirl if your nose were a tentacle? I think not. The best you could do then would be to snort. Attractive, that would be.

Mina jumps in her place and lets out a cackle that fills the room. She seems to be possessed by something. An angry banshee, perhaps.

"WHAT'S MY PROBLEM?" She flings another book at his face but he ducks away, the sharp edge missing his head by inches. The book goes crashing into one of the paintings, and the occupant squeals, running into a nearby portrait for safety. "WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?"

He seems unfazed by her question, as she's got nothing left around her that she can possibly throw at him anymore. Except a chair. And come on now, she's not about to go around hurling furniture at people.

Black, knowing this, walks casually back to his seat, throws his feet onto the table, and flashes her a smile which she promptly returns with a finger. The whole room holds their breath and watches closely as Black leans back casually on the couch. He does seem to be poking the bear, the fool.

"Sorry, love, my problem? I'd like to point out I'm not the one going berserk and turning the common room into a war-zone." He sighs contently, and follows this up with a serene smirk. "I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public."

She storms up to him, her nostrils flaring wildly as her jaw juts out, her features rigid. "The ice you're on, Black," she snarls, "Thin."

"Ooh," Black coos, his hands flailing about comically. "Scaaawy."

"Two galleons on Taylor."

"You're on."

This is a charming new development. They've started taking bets on who'll come out alive. Seems rather pointless, as even those with very little foresight could see that it would be a fool's game to put their money on Black.

"Potter!" I whisper sharply at the tall figure behind me, who's currently in the process of handing two galleons to a black haired 5th year. Betting on Mina, of course. He may be daft, but he's certainly not an idiot. Meeting my disapproving glare, he has the decency to look uncomfortable and somewhat guilty, as if he's just been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. The 5th year waiting for his money is disappointed and sulks away.

"Oh, please," Black harrumphs, sighing exasperatedly, putting up a palm to silence Mina, "Save me the grandiose comeback. Really, there is no need."

Looking like she's just been emptied of all air, Mina deflates, reclines back to the balls of her feet, and sighs dejectedly. "You're unbelievable," she scoffs, throwing her hands up in the air, while letting herself fall freely into the armchair across from Black. "You disgust me, you know that?"

"You flatter me, darling."

You see, I would rather enjoy watching this if I had the slightest bleeding idea of what it was about. I mean, it's actually quite humorous to see Black running around scared half to death like a little girl while Mina stomps about like a homicidal maniac. Alas, it seems as if we arrived in the middle of a conversation and effectively are stranded in the wind, looking blankly from one to the other as they argue instead of picking a side, making banners and cheering.

Potter's head suddenly appears from underneath my arm. He seems to think that his hands snaking their way around my waist –

NO.

- is a maneuver I won't notice. They feel magnificent and warm and brilliant -

NO NO.

Did I say magnificent? I meant revolting. Utterly and horribly brilliant.

I meant nauseating. Of course.

Thank god we're by the portrait hole and people can't see us. Because this is social suicide. Under normal circumstances I would have started yelling at him, but this is obviously anything but normal. My brain has obviously been rendered useless by severe amounts of Potter-related mumbo jumbo. We seem to be on another planet.

Actually, come to think of it, he's a corrupted little demon who's exploiting the fact that his best friend might well be killed by mine.

"How dare you suggest that I – "

"Dress too openly? Too flirtatious for your own good? I was complementing you, actually love," Black says huskily and throws Mina a feather, which until a few minutes ago, was a particularly lethal shoe. "You're quite like me in that way. I mean, I don't dress openly, but rest assured, if I were born a girl, I would probably be your twin. In any case, for your information, we're a very sexy pair."

Her eyes widen infinitesimally. She is not amused.

Bad, bad move, Black.

"Excuse me? What did you just say?"

"That we're sexy?"

She groans, the disgusted sound coming from deep within her chest. "All men are the same!" She decides, repuled. "You can't stop thinking with that long enough to form coherent sentences."

Black notices what she's pointing at and seems somewhat appalled. "On behalf of my gender – hey! Don't jump to conclusions about all of us just because I'm somewhat of a randy idiot."

"I didn't jump to conclusions," she says airily, waving a hand about, "I took a tiny leap, and there conclusions were."

Oh dear God. James's hands just slid lower on my waist. I should probably stop this. I should probably slap him. But my hand doesn't seem to want to slap. He shifts behind me, and we are, for all points and purposes, cuddling.

I am cuddling with James Potter. I am being cuddled by Potter. I am in a Potter Cuddle.

Oh for bugger's sake.

My hands are outright refusing to follow my orders. I am telling them to hit Potter, and instead, they are contently sitting on top of his hands joined around my stomach, as if all was right with the world and we weren't in a twisted parallel universe where this could remotely be considered OKAY.

HIT POTTER. DO IT. I SAID HIT HIM.

Or did you say, kiss him?

Oh, Christ. This is mutiny.

Because if that is what you said, that would be so much easier, since in order to hit him you would have to raise your hand, which is all the way on the other side of your body, and then swipe it across his head, and on the other hand, kissing him would just take one small head jerk and your lips could be on his – It's all about logistics, really – let's be logical, now –

Alright! That's enough! Brain, I'm ordering you to shut the hell up.

But look how easy it would be, I mean kissing Potter is magnificent –

Oh this is brilliant. My brain wants to kiss Potter. First it's my hands, then my feet, and now my brain. Being around this idiot seems to render them useless body parts.

Ah! MY MOUTH IS MOVING!

I've always liked my mouth best, anyway. My hands are evil.

"Potter!" I snap sharply, turning around and being greeted by a gigantic tuft of fur on my shoulder. Oh, that appears to be his head. My mistake. Damn.

We are now basically nose to nose. I am nose grazing with Potter. I am nose grazing WITH POTTER!

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH THE WORLD?

THIS IS EVEN WEIRDER THAN IF WORMTAIL WERE A HIGHLY-PAID MODEL OR A SEXY, IRRESISTABLE STUDMUFFIN!

...I did not just call Wormtail a studmuffin...

I didn't. It didn't happen. When I get angry I get incoherent. And ridiculous.

"Mmm-hmm?" he whispers in my ear.

Goosebumps.

I should be repulsed. He should disgust me. James Potter should sicken me. I sicken me, because he's supposed to sicken me but he doesn't.

I've just realized I'm still looking at him, and he's peering up at me expectantly. "I – um….I…"

I take all the complements back. I really do hate my mouth. Nothing coherent EVER comes out of it. I'm vaguely aware that I lick my lips. Oh, brilliant. I have licked my lips.

This is just dandy, now he's looking, where? Of course, my lips. Why must you do this to me, mouth?

I FED YOU!

I'VE HAD YOU FOR AS LONG AS I CAN REMEMBER!

WHY, TONGUE, WHY?

As ever, he is completely unaware of this weird discussion going on in my raving moronic brain.

"Lily?" he mutters, and his chin digs into my shoulder. He raises his head, and suddenly I'm feeling imbalanced. "Lily?" he repeats into my ear. This of course, creates more goosebumps. Of course, I remind myself, this is because it is suddenly cold. Not because his breath is tickling me and feels utterly amazing. Obviously not.

"Are you alright?"

I am. I should be. And therefore I am.

But I don't think I'm blinking.

That can't be good.

Healthwise.

I read somewhere that if you don't blink for a certain amount of time that your eyes can dry out and essentially become unusable to the point where you can't see a single thing without washing them out first, and that the first man who ever and I'm rambling.

I certainly don't think I'm going to be able to say anything normal until he takes his hands off my waist. They're too distracting. And warm. And bony. But lovely. I mean gross.

Ah, a distraction when you need one – Mina's thrown another book at Black. Actually, now that I can control my body parts and can focus on something other than Potter's face, it's apparent that she's stood up again, and is attempting to murder Black once more. He's probably said words to her. The idiot.

She needs to be disarmed. "You – disgusting – pig!"

Black lets out an irritated groan. "Look, if you would stop throwing things at me, I could – HEY! THAT'S –"

Alright. Time for peaceful stand-by has passed. TIME TO INTERFERE.

"Mina – hey, hey, hey! PUT, THE CHAIR, DOWN!"

Oh, bugger. I've wobbled into the room.

But see, I'd forgotten something. I've forgotten why I'm wobbling instead of walking like a normal human being.

Potter is still hugging me. And now everyone's looking.

Sounds ceases to exist. Little girls and boys are staring. Because I am voluntarily being cuddled by my mortal enemy.

Mina's even stopped running at Black with the chair. She's frozen mid-step, the chair still in the air. Hmph. She shouldn't be talking, I'm not the one who's gone completely bonkers and progressed to attacking people with furniture.

Black's feet are still up, braced for contact, that now seems to be delayed. A pumpkin pastie falls out of the mouth of a nearby second-year whose mouth has dropped open.

We've literally frozen the whole scene. Impressive.

Black's head shifts and he gives Potter a nod, apparently pleased by the whole situation. I'm suddenly wondering what the nod signifies.

Because we weren't doing anything.

NOTHING!

I suddenly realize that he's still on me. "Potter!" I snap. "Get off!"

The scene seems unfrozen now that we are separated. Black lets out a barking laugh and runs at us, "Prongs, mate! So glad you could join us! Do come in! Have a seat! Would you like a croissant?"

I look across the room and murmur, "Mina, lets go upstairs."

Now that James is off me, she resumes the glaring of daggers at Black and yells, the chair still in her hand, "NO! NO! I'D LIKE TO STAY! I'M JUST PEACHY!"

Black turns around, his hair flapping across his face, and opens his mouth to answer, but Potter puts a hand gently on his shoulder and mutters good-naturedly, "Sirius shut up, if you know what's good for you."

He lets out another laugh, drops onto the couch, sighs, and then says, "Ahh, I can't be arsed. You know bloody well I don't have the foggiest what's good for me."

As we all take a second to look around the now deserted, and partially destroyed common room, no one has the heart to argue his statement.

*Points shamelessly at the review button*