A/N: I HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU SPEND A FEW SECONDS RE-READING THE FIRST BIT OF CHAPTER 2. You might also be interested in re-reading the prologue... part of it might look familiar after this chapter...(el gaspe!)
Disclaimer: I am neither JKR nor Merle Haggard. Though I don't know what I wouldn't give to be Merle Haggard.
Recap: James and Lily agree to a tentative "potential" friendship. Sirius argues with his uncle, the Defense teacher Alphard Black, about Regulus, whom Alphard suggests Sirius forgive for past wrongs. Frank and Alice break up on account of Carlotta Meloni.
THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO HAS READ AND REVIEWED!
Chapter 9- The Art of Walking
Or
"All My Friends Are Gonna Be Strangers"
"I hate her."
Peter sighed. "Prongs, you..."
"No. She's insane. She is barking mad. Out of her sodding mind."
"Maybe she's just..."
"You're defending her!" said James dangerously, turning on his friend.
"No," Peter protested at once. "No, I'm not. You're right. You're completely, absolutely right."
"Damn straight I'm right," replied the other, resuming his pacing from one end of the dormitory to the other. "What the hell is her problem anyway? Why is she so...? Why can't she just...?" He stopped to breathe. "Lily Evans is going to be the death of me."
"Should we kiss on it?" Carlotta asked dryly. Her almond shaped brown eyes sparkled with amusement and victory. The satisfaction of winning after a long, arduous battle was perhaps even more gratifying than the easy triumph she usually experienced.
"How about we just shake?" replied Frank quietly, holding out his hand. Carlotta slipped her own smaller, softer hand inside his grasp, leaning further forward still, so that their noses nearly touched.
"See you on Friday," she said, before pulling back and sidestepping him. She walked away, her perfectly glossed lips curved into a smile.
"Sirius, I'm sorry! Sirius, listen to me!"
Sirius wheeled around to face the younger wizard who pursued him. "And why the hell should I, Regulus?"
Regulus Black looked hurt. "Because I'm your brother."
"That," said Sirius, anger charging his words like electricity, "is the second lie you've told me today." He turned and stalked away.
"I am so stupid!" Lily sobbed, burying her face in the handkerchief he had handed her moments before. "I am just... so stupid!"
Remus Lupin, her companion on the corridor floor, patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. To say he was utterly inexperienced with the fairer sex would be inaccurate, but he had never found a way to stop a girl from crying when she'd really set her mind to it.
"Lily, you're not stupid."
"I am too!" contradicted Lily, emerging from the handkerchief. "I'm the stupidest human being... the stupidest living creature to ever walk the Earth! And I'm a total bitch, too!" She dissolved once more.
"You're not all that bad," Remus attempted to console. "C'mon... what happened? It can't be so awful..."
Hiccup. "It is, though," she whispered desperately. "You know, in all of my rows over the years... with Potter, with Severus... I'm so used to it being their fault. But this... this is completely mine."
Remus frowned. "I don't understand, Lily," he said, "Can you explain?"
"N-n-no," croaked the redhead. "You can't understand. No one can understand... I don't understand, for Merlin's sake!"
"Lily..."
"But, Remus, you'll hate me for it."
He wrapped one arm around her shaking shoulders. "I won't hate you," he assured her warmly. "Really, Lily."
She began to regain composure and fussed with the handkerchief. "You will hate me. I hate me."
Remus sighed. "Come on, Lily. Whatever this is, I'm sure we can devise a way to fix it."
"We can't, though; that's just..."
"Why don't you start from the beginning?" the Marauder interrupted. "Just... start from the beginning and tell me what's happened."
Lily exhaled dramatically. "Well... I guess... I guess it started this morning."
(That Morning)
"They write songs about mornings like these," Lily noted, as she passed a window, through which the yellow sunlight streamed. Donna rolled her eyes.
"It's too early for that kind of rubbish," she said. "I swear, the next happy thing you say, I'm not sitting with you at breakfast."
"What will I do?" asked Lily sardonically, spinning around to walk backwards beside her friend. "It's not as though I haveanybody else in the vastness of the universe to sit with at breakfast."
Donna crossed her arms. "You could sit with Potter," she said. "I notice the two of you have been awfully chummy lately."
Lily laughed. "Jealous?"
"Curious," corrected Donna, quite seriously. "Are you two...?"
"We're just trying to get along," interrupted Lily lightly. "There's nothing going on between us... we're not even proper mates. We're just... trying to get along."
"With great success apparently."
"The success is only comparable to the effort we contribute," Lily informed her. "For the sake of the school and Nicolai Mulciber's jaw." But this was a lie, Lily thought, as they reached the Great Hall: an act of mendacity the purpose of which she did not understand herself. Of course, they'd bickered a few times, but on the whole, getting along with James Potter was almost appallingly simple.
"Good morning, Lily... Donna..." said Adam McKinnon, as the two girls sat down close to him. Adam—like Donna—was dressed in Gryffindor Quidditch robes. "You going to the match today, Lily?"
"I never miss them," she replied. "Hence my current patriotism..." She indicated to the red and gold scarf hanging around her neck.
"Lily, you wear that every day," Donna pointed out. "I would hardly call that house pride."
"Only in cold weather and only with my uniform," argued Lily. "I never wear it with street clothes. It is house pride."
"The Hufflepuff players look more enthusiastic for Gryffindor than you do," said Donna coolly.
"They do not. They don't, do they, Adam?" She turned to the wizard for support, but he frowned.
"I don't know, Lily, I think a few of them are probably wearing more red and gold than you are, right now. Actually..." He surveyed her outfit. "Considering your top is sort of yellow-ish, and your skirt is black... I'd reckon you're wearing more Hufflepuff colors."
"It's a cream colored sweater for Merlin's sake!" protested Lily, as Donna laughed. "You two are ridiculous."
"'Morning, Shack," said James Potter's voice, as he appeared, taking a seat across from them. "'Morning, McKinnon... Snaps." He was in a good mood. He was in a Quidditch game mood, and he looked it, Lily thought, the way his hair seemed even messier today, and a crooked grin was fixed upon his face.
Pouring a goblet of pumpkin juice, James glanced at Lily. "Gee, Snaps, you really went all out with the house spirit, didn't you?"
"Quiet, you."
(An Indecision)
"Dear Sirius," Andromeda Tonks's letter predictably began.
"Please accept my sincerest apologies that I've taken so long to respond to your last letter. As you can imagine, life has been hectic for my family over the last few weeks. Incidentally, how strange is it that I now use the term 'my family' in a tone other than guilt, shame, fear, or falsified pride? This whole business certainly has taken a strange turn over the last few years... even more so in the last couple of weeks.
So I told you in my last letter that I was a little worried about Nymphadora, on account of her using more involuntary magic than could surely be entirely normal for a child of her age. Well, she had an appointment with a Healer the other day, and—as it turns out—my three year old is a metamorphagus. The healer gave me a potion so she doesn't hurt herself (I guess that's common in metamorphagi her age?), but otherwise, apparently Nymphadora will be perfectly fine... if a little eccentric. This should be interesting come adolescence.
Ted is doing well. He was as upset as I was by what Healer Clancey said last month about my having more children, but we're both (slowly) recovering. Maybe it's for the best: this pseudo-hidden life we're leading at the moment is dangerous enough with just Nymphadora. Of course, Nymphadora is more rambunctious than the typical three-year-old anyway (she reminds me of you... and Ted... then again, Ted always did remind me of you).
I ran into Narcissa the other day. She told me she's broken off her engagement to that bloke she was running around with, and I have a sneaking suspicion that I know exactly who she's turned to since. Merlin, I can only hope the rumors to that effect are false; Narcissa neither confirmed nor denied and was decidedly cold, but at least it wasn't Bella, or I probably wouldn't be around to write this. I hope you'll write if you hear anything about Cissy. I think you know my opinion of Lucius Malfoy by now, favorite cousin.
Well I have been working up the courage to mention this: please don't get angry. Uncle Alphard wrote me about your little spat. I'm not going to recommend you make amends with Regulus—that would be hypocritical—but I don't think our uncle deserves to face your wrath, Sirius. He's done so much for us (you and I), and he wants to have some manner of relationship with you before it's too late. Please don't interpret any of this as judgment upon your decision to run away, your fight with Regulus, or even your disagreement with Uncle Alphard: I really just want what's best for you, and I can't think of anything that would be better for you than a good relationship with someone in this family (with irony, that time) who really cares about you. Besides myself, of course.
It's bizarre that I am now giving you advice, Sirius, when only a few years ago my life was a train wreck of poor decisions and uncertain principles. Things have changed so much: you're no longer a little boy, and I'm no longer a Black. Maybe I am the least worthy person in the world to be handing out advice, but I do so entirely out of love.
Incidentally, Regulus wrote me the other day—strange, no?
Keep close to the people you love, and remember that—wherever I am, whatever you do—I love you. Ted and Dora send their love as well.
Always yours,
Andromeda"
Sirius folded the letter up and placed it in his pocket: the edges were already worn soft from folding and unfolding, though he'd only received it an hour ago. He sighed.
"You ready, mate?" It was James. He appeared from some corner of the locker rooms, holding his state-of-the-art broomstick in both hands and wearing an expression of mixed anticipation (for the match) and concern (for his best friend). Sirius, in turn, did his best to shake off the indecision weighing upon him.
"I'm ready," he replied. He couldn't think of Andromeda just now. He couldn't think of her advice, or his uncle, or Regulus, or any of it. Right now, there must only be Quidditch: the quaffle and the hoops and his ability to connect the two. Quidditch.
"You're sure?"
Sirius picked up his broomstick (a present for his fifteenth birthday... from his uncle Alphard). "Absolutely."
(Pursuit)
"Running late, aren't you?" said a voice, as Frank reached the portrait hole. He half jumped when he spotted Carlotta, rising from the couch nearest the fireplace. The witch wore a skirt that made her slim olive toned legs appear to be several miles long, and a red sweater that clung suggestively to her thin frame.
"Carlotta, I told you in the village that I needed time away from... everything. To think." The Head Boy grew pale as she approached.
"Am I somehow preventing thought process, Frank?" she asked quietly.
"No, but you're going to try and convince me to..."
"Relax," she interrupted. "I wasn't waiting for you to go down to the game. I was dodging Connor Plex... he's been trying to get me to go on a date with him for ages." She tossed her long, chestnut hair out of her face, waiting for a reaction from her companion. He did not meet her eye.
"Maybe that's a good idea," he said at length. "Connor Plex is a nice enough bloke..." Carlotta smiled a little.
"But I don't want Connor Plex."
Frank decided now would be a prudent time to make his exit. She pursued. "You're being thick, you know," she said, as the pair started down the corridor, he at a slightly quicker pace. "You're not seeing anyone anymore, and you're still acting as if the fact that you fancy me is something to feel guilty about."
"That," said Frank, stopping suddenly, "is because I was seeing someone when we... when we..."
"Kissed," she finished for him. Frank continued walking. She pursued.
"I don't want to talk about this right now," he told her. "I just want to get to the Quidditch match and forget about..."
"Forget about what?" Carlotta demanded. "Forget about Alice?" With an icy edge: "Because she's sure forgotten about you. Or is it me you want to forget about, Frank? Honestly, you're so thick. You're Head Boy... smart, talented, funny, and you're still acting like some little lost puppy just because..."
"Carlotta, it was wrong what we did! What I did!"
"But why?" the brunette asked, as they reached the marble staircase. "Because some stupid convention says so? Why does it matter? Why can't you just go with what you feel?"
"Carlotta, please. Just... just don't," he pleaded, a bit desperately. Carlotta sighed. She quietly pursued for a while, until they were well along the lawn. The Quidditch pitch was in sight before she spoke.
"You didn't deny it, you know."
"Didn't deny what?" asked the Head Boy.
"I said that you were still acting guilty over the fact that you fancied me," Carlotta reminded him, her eyes on the blue sky. It was a cold morning, and she'd forgotten her cloak. "And you didn't deny that you fancied me."
Frank stopped. "Listen, Carlotta..."
"Look... the game must be over," she interrupted, for indeed, a large number of students could be seen exiting the pitch and starting across the green towards the castle.
"Already? It hasn't even been twenty minutes..."
"I guess," said Carlotta, raising her eyebrows significantly, "all that running was for nothing." She then turned back to the school. He followed.
(Friends)
"Not at the party?" inquired James, and his sudden remark caused Lily—who had apparently thought she was alone—to start.
Tucking a flyaway strand of red hair behind her ear, the prefect shook her head. "No—I'm meeting Luke for a late lunch."
"A late lunch?" repeated James. He approached her at her perch atop a low windowsill in one of the school's exterior corridors. "It's not twelve-thirty yet."
"Well," Lily confessed, "I'm not meeting him till two. He's got homework to finish up."
"I see. So, the question still remains: why desert your house's victory party? I knew you had no house spirit."
"The party's been on for more than two hours and will undoubtedly go on for many more hours," said Lily. "I'm simply taking a break. It's a beautiful day."
James shrugged, leaning against the wall and sliding his hands into the pockets of his Quidditch robes. "I suppose. If you're into that sort of thing."
Lily sent him a look. "Stop acting tough. It's beautiful, and you know it." She sighed, and James followed her stare across the lawn at the wasted trees and blue-grey sky. "I love November," she remarked.
"You love November? Who loves November?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's... it's just so average. November. The trees aren't all orange and red anymore, and there's no snow. It's just... dead."
"It's quiet," corrected Lily. "It's... contemplative."
"The month? The month is contemplative?"
"Yes," insisted the redhead. "I like it. I think it's a very neglected month, on the whole. People love June because it's warm and bright, and people love December because of Christmas, and people love October and April, because everything's just starting to change... but November is unduly overlooked."
James shook his head. He almost ran his hand through his hair, but stopped just short, and fiddled with the frame of his spectacles instead. "I like March," he said after a while. "I think March is a neglected month."
"March deserves to be neglected," judged Lily. "I don't see why we need it. It's the part of the year that just stretches out... all the Christmas glow has worn off, and there's none of the fun end-of-the-year, springtime activities yet. It's just... there." She realized this was harsh. "No offense."
"None taken. I probably wouldn't like March either, but my birthday is in March."
Lily began to laugh, covering her mouth with one hand. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to abuse your birthday month. Everyone has to love their birthday month—even it if it's August, they have to."
"I do hate August," replied James.
"Something we agree on, then."
"Good thing, too. It was about to come to blows."
Lily smiled. "Listen," she began, "I'm not meeting Luke until two... do you want to go for a walk? I'm not quite ready to go back to the party. Of course, if you are, you're more than welcome to say 'no,' I just..."
"No, sure, I'll go for a walk."
She hopped off the wall, but as he started outside, Lily shook her head. "No, not there. I want to walk around the castle... it's always so quiet on Saturdays after Quidditch matches."
Shrugging, James followed. To his surprise, she did not lead him up to the Astronomy Tower, or to the third floor where there was an excellent view of the lake, or to one of the more ornamented corridors, or anywhere remotely attractive at all. She headed for the dungeons.
"For someone who's always all 'sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows,' the dungeons are an awfully dismal destination," he pointed out, to which Lily shrugged.
"I feel like torchlight." They sat down in a randomly selected corridor, dark enough so that the torches burned even when the rest of the castle was soaked in daylight. "So," Lily began after a short silence, leaning her head against the stone wall behind her. "What shall we talk about?"
"First time you did magic," said James, and Lily frowned thoughtfully.
"By accident or on purpose?" she clarified.
"Accident, I suppose."
"Alright, good." She considered it, then said: "I was five or six... I made a closet door fly off its hinges."
"Wow," said James, impressed. "Why?"
"Predictably enough, I was angry," said Lily. "Petunia—that's my sister—she hid something of mine in the closet and locked it. I didn't have the key, and... it just flew off."
"Yeah, that sounds like you."
Lily made a face. "My turn," she said. "First... first chapter book you read."
"Hell if I know. You?"
"'The Ballet Shoes.' It made me want to become an actress. I've got a good one for you, now: first time you broke the law."
"Easy," said James. "I was six. I stole my dad's wand and set fire to the neighbor's shrubbery... also their cat, I think. My turn: your first alcoholic drink."
"Vodka. New topic. Um... First... first love."
She smiled, but James rolled his eyes. "Pass."
"Pass? You can't pass in this game."
"Well, what if I don't believe in love?" he asked, half joking, half to see her reaction, which did not disappoint. First, her green eyes grew wide. Then she scowled.
"You can't not believe in love. That's ridiculous. You're too young to be that cynical."
"I'm a bloke, Evans. I'm never too young to be cynical."
"Well, it's stupid all the same."
"I take it you do believe in love? Fairytales and all that, too?"
"My parents were in love," Lily told him. "I can't attest to fairytales."
"Well, my parents were in love, too. And then they weren't."
"And then they were again."
"That remains to be seen."
"But lots of marriages are..."
"Well, that's the problem, isn't it? I don't believe in marriage, either."
"You're impossible," the redhead informed her companion. "Fine. I get another turn."
"No you don't," protested the other. "You should have chosen your question better. My turn."
"Fine."
"Alright, how about your first... um... oh, got it. Your first... y'know..."
Lily frowned. "First what?"
"You know."
"Oh." Lily shook her head quickly. "No. I don't... um... do that."
"Oh." James nodded. "Well, it's just as well. The whole thing is overrated." That made Lily laugh, and he was relieved.
"You're just saying that so I'm not embarrassed," she accused.
He nodded again. "Pretty much, yes, but all the same..."
"I'm not embarrassed," Lily informed him. "I just don't think... I mean, the relationships you have in school are so superficial anyway. Most girls just date the boys they think they're supposed to date, you know... the ones their friends say look good standing beside them. And I'm not saying those relationships are without merit, because it's important in a lot of ways, but... I don't know... I'm just not going to sleep with any boy I fancy. I want to be in love. Deeply and seriously and... you know, the for-better-or-for-worst kind."
"You mean the happily-ever-after-fairytale kind," said James.
Lily rolled her eyes. "Agree to disagree," she said. "Even though I'm right and you're a posing cynic." She looked at him. "What about you?"
James arched his eyebrows. "I have this little voice in my head... saying something about 'kissing and telling' and... not to do it."
"You wanted me to kiss and tell."
"It's completely different for a bird," said James. "Blokes don't care."
"But you have... you know...?"
"Evans..."
"I'm not asking for names! I'm just curious!"
It was his turn to roll his eyes. "Fine. Yes, I have. Happy?"
She didn't look happy. "Yes." A moment of silence, then: "Alright, my turn. How about—er... first kiss?"
"I'll tell that," allowed the other. "Carlotta Meloni, actually."
"Carlotta Meloni?" Lily looked even unhappier.
"I suppose she's not your favorite person right now," James allowed. "I know what everyone's saying about Frank Longbottom and what not... but she's not wholly bad, you know."
"I used to know," said Lily skeptically. "I never knew you two dated," she added quizzically a moment later. James shook his head.
"We didn't. It just... happened. End of fourth year. What about you? First kiss."
"Robbie Castle."
"Robbie Castle? That prick?"
"He was not a prick! Well..." She thought about it; "he was a little bit of a prick, but I thought he was divine at the time."
But it shouldn't have been Robbie Castle. "If you say so."
"I do. And I'll have you know that kiss was perfect. We were in a garden, and..."
"A garden?"
"Yes. It was sunny and colorful and perfect, and..."
"What garden? Here at Hogwarts?"
"Hogsmeade. It was my first real date, and there's this patch down the road, where the clerk at Honeydukes planted a garden. Oh stop laughing, it was romantic. It was perfect, which I bet is more than you can say. You and Carlotta Meloni..."
"It is," he agreed. "Carlotta and I snogged because we were bored. But it was a good snog."
"But it wasn't perfect," triumphed Lily. "And mine was. God himself smiled."
James laughed, and she let him. "Well, I don't..." he began.
"You don't believe in God," she finished for him. He nodded. "Merlin, do you believe in anything?"
With a shrug: "We'll see."
Lily shook her head. "You do, though," she said. "Believe in God, I mean. You do believe in God. You only think that you don't."
"I'm pretty sure I don't, Snaps," stated the other. "I find it sort of ridiculous. Don't you?"
Lily didn't answer his question, instead saying: "It's quite easy to sit here and laugh at a God. No one laughs at God when they're staring down the end of a wand." James watched her very carefully, cementing her image in his brain. She shook the hair out of her eyes, then caught James looking at her. "Stop looking at me like that, James Potter," she ordered, amused.
"Like what?" He hoped he sounded innocent.
"Like... like you know something about me."
"But I do." (Relieved.) "I know a lot of things about you. We've been playing this for almost an hour and a half."
The redhead went rigid. "An hour and a half? What time is it?"
"About ten minutes to two..." It was then that he remembered her date with Luke, and James wished he hadn't said anything. Lily got to her feet.
"I'd better go," she said. "Luke's always early for everything."
I'm always late for everything, James thought, also getting to his feet. Lily hesitated for a moment. "Thanks for walking with me. It... it wasn't too terrible. Even though, y'know... you were there."
"It was alright for me too," agreed James. "Mostly because I'm so doped up even you seemed interesting, but..."
"Oh, be quiet." But she was smiling. "I'll see you later." With that, the witch was gone. James sat down again. It shouldn't have been Luke Harper...
(Party of Three)
Frank wasn't having a very good time. It was supposed to be a celebration, but he found himself strangely apathetic to the fact that his team had just defeated Hufflepuff in one of the shortest matches in recent history. He just didn't care. Alice was nowhere to be found in the crowded, noisy Common Room, and Carlotta stood across the room with Connor Plex, laughing and flirting loudly.
Frowning miserably, the Head Boy rose from his corner seat and started for the drink table. He had just grabbed a butterbeer when he spotted Hestia Clearwater some distance away, chatting casually with Remus Lupin. As he watched, however, Remus began to move away, and while Hestia was left momentarily alone, Frank hastily approached her.
The smile on the witch's face vanished the moment she saw the Head Boy. "What do you want?" she snapped, upon his arrival.
"I just..."
"Well, I'll tell you what I want," Hestia interrupted. "I want to smack you. I want to pour this butterbeer all over your stupid... hair. But I won't, because I haven't got the nerve. Nonetheless, I would appreciate it if, while you are walking away, you pretend that your soaked with butterbeer and feeling very uncomfortable."
Frank had never seen Hestia so angry, and he certainly had never had such anger directed at himself. "Hestia, I just want to make sure she's okay."
"She's fine."
"Where is she? I haven't seen her all day... I never see her, except in class."
"She's busy. And she hates you."
Frank nodded. "I don't blame her," he said dejectedly. "But..."
"Frank, you should go," cut in Hestia.
"I will, just... just tell her that everyone misses her."
"She knows," said the other. "She's fantastic. Anyone who didn't miss her would be a complete dolt. But then again, maybe missing her is all some people are ever going to get to do... even when she does start coming to Quidditch matches again." The Head Boy began to leave. "Why'd you do it?" Hestia demanded suddenly.
Frank sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. Without another word but looking highly dissatisfied, Hestia disappeared into the crowd. Frank was not alone for long.
"I told you so," said Carlotta Meloni. "I told you she's moved on."
"Carlotta, please..."
Frank made for the portrait hole, and she followed him. Out in the corridor, Carlotta demanded: "I don't understand you. I know the way you look at me, and the way you feel about me... I know that kiss meant something."
"But it didn't," insisted Frank, as though he were pleading with her to believe him. "It didn't... I just... it was just a..."
"Don't say 'mistake.'"
"Carlotta..."
"Frank, be honest with me: do you feel nothing for me? Standing here, right now, can you honestly say you don't feel anything?"
He took a long time to answer, the color rising in his cheeks. "I—I don't know."
"You do know," said the other. "You fancy me. And I fancy you. And that kiss did mean something... not just that you were bored with the relationship you had, though you clearly were..."
"That's not true!"
"It is true!"
"Alice and I were perfectly..."
"Perfect," finished Carlotta. "Frank, just because everyone thought you were completely perfect and meant-to-be, doesn't mean that you were. You were bored. Alice is a nice girl, but she's not like you. She's... she's girl-next-door, and sometimes girl-next-door isn't enough!"
"Don't say that. Carlotta, seriously, stop, I'm not going to let you say..."
"The truth?"
"No." He exhaled. "Listen, I really need you to give me space. I have to think about all of this, and I can't, if..."
"I'll give you space if you go out with me," interrupted the sixth year. "If you agree to go on one date with me... to let me convince you of what I already know about us, then I won't bother you anymore after that... unless you want me to. If we go on one date, and you still want your 'space,' I won't bother you, or talk to you, or follow your or anything."
"Carlotta..."
"Don't answer now," she said quickly. "Stop thinking with that confused brain of yours and just... just do what feels right to you. When you've done that, tell me what you've decided."
She walked away. Frank closed his eyes, grateful for the solitude. He needed to clear his head. He needed to think.
"She saw you, y'know." Frank's eyes flew open. Marlene Price stood before him, hands on her hips and the flush of anger in her cheeks. "Alice saw you down in the village on your little date with Carlotta Meloni."
Frank blinked. "I wasn't with Carlotta Meloni in the village..." Then he remembered. "Oh, no, it wasn't a date. She just foll... that is, we just ran into one another for a few minutes at the end, and..."
"I don't care," said Marlene, waving away his response with one hand. "I just thought you should know that Alice saw you and that I think you're a prat for going around in public with her only a week after breaking your sweet, perfect, wonderful girlfriend's heart. And I would say the same thing to Carlotta... only..." this in a rushed undertone: "...she's-my-room-mate,-so-I-sort-of-have-to-keep-peace-with-her. But watch your back, Frank."
Haughtily, the blonde departed.
No, Frank was most certainly not having a good time.
(Tea)
Knock, knock.
Sirius's fist rapped once more against the wooden door and was, this time, met with a response. The door opened, his uncle standing on the other side, with a reasonably confused expression.
"Sirius," Professor Black noted in surprise. "Hello. I thought you'd be celebrating in the Common Room with the rest of the team... congratulations on the match, then."
Sirius nodded slowly. "Listen, Uncle Alphard... that is... Professor Black, I wondered if I could have a word with you."
"Oh. Of course. Come in."
The younger Black stepped into his uncle's office, feeling awkward as he still wore his Quidditch gear and might have—he thought—had a touch of firewhiskey on his breath. Nonetheless, he took both the seat and cup of tea offered to him, and waited till his uncle was similarly situated before speaking again.
"I've had a letter from Andromeda," Sirius told him. "Have you heard the news about... about her kid? Nymphadora?"
Professor Black had not, and Sirius related the news that the letter had related to him. The elder Black was sufficiently astonished, and they both discussed the news for a few minutes. Then, Sirius continued: "That's not the reason I came here, though."
"I thought not," said Black softly.
"Andromeda thinks your right about my brother." Sirius stared into his teacup. "She didn't come out and say it, but she meant it. I could tell. She wants me to forgive Regulus."
"Sirius..."
"And," he went on, speaking over his uncle, "You and Andromeda are the only blood relatives I've got, so... so I think I should probably listen to you."
"Sirius..."
"...Because if you two think that there's a chance that he won't turn into Slytherin's golden boy, I trust you, and... and I should listen to your input." He was met with quiet, which prompted him to add: "So... what are you thinking?"
Alphard Black was quiet for some time. "Sirius," he finally began. "This is what I've been hoping for, I won't deny it. But you're not a child anymore, and... and as much as I might like to conceal things from you, 'for your own good' as they say... I believe you deserve the truth."
"What are you talking about?"
"I mean that... that you have made a difficult decision, and I think—I still think it is the right one to make. However, I don't think that you should make it before you have all of the information."
"What... what information?" Sirius asked unevenly.
"About your brother," said Professor Black. "I've just had to give Regulus a detention... along with some of his friends. They were... they were cursing a young muggleborn. It was messy... more than just a harmless prank, and... Well, he wasn't seriously hurt, this boy, but..." Sirius stood up abruptly. "Sirius, please, be patient. Don't do anything that..."
"I can't believe this. Who was it? Who was the kid?"
Looking as though he wasn't sure he should be telling this, Black replied: "David Michaels. He's a..."
"Second year."
"Yes. Now, Sirius..."
He made for the door, stopping just short and turning to his uncle. "Thank-you," said Sirius. Black clearly did not understand. "Thank you for telling me this," Sirius went on. "I know that you didn't want to. Thank you for not protecting me."
Professor Black nodded. Sirius left the office, his tea unfinished.
(The Ultimatum)
Luke kissed her softly on the lips, and then stepped back. "I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" he whispered. Lily nodded, smiling.
"Alright." He turned, starting out of the Great Hall and pausing at the door to wave goodbye. When he had gone, Lily sat down at Gryffindor table once again—she and Luke had been alone in the hall, and it was a nice change. She was thinking over their conversation while toying with a napkin, when the sound of her own name recalled her from the reverie.
"Lily."
Severus Snape approached the table.
"Hi, Sev. What's wrong?" For the Slytherin was pale and flustered. He was also, Lily noticed a moment later, displeased.
"I can't let you do this, Lily," he said. Her heart beat very fast, and something about the tone of his voice made the color rise in her face.
"What are you talking about?"
"You've got to choose, okay? You've got to chose between the two of us... between him and me."
Lily stared, gaping like a fish for a moment. "Between... between you and Luke? Sev, I don't understand." And though her heart was beating like mad at a thousand and one implications (which frightened more than pleased her), she was telling the truth: the topic of Lily's boyfriend was never discussed with Severus. It had seemed strangely wrong to discuss Luke with him.
"No," said Severus, his black eyes cooler than ever. "You have to choose between me and James Potter." Here, Lily believed that her heart actually stopped beating all together.
"Sev... that's..."
"What?" he interrupted, which startled Lily, because Severus never interrupted her. "Are you going to pretend it's unfair of me to ask that? It's not. You and I were mates first... we were mates long before you ever even met that Potter git, and you're not supposed to become friends with the people who pick on your friends."
"Sev, he and the Marauders haven't done anything to you in ages..."
"How would you know? You never ask me, do you?"
"Because," countered Lily heatedly, "you haven't told me, and you're always quick to tell me every time James Potter steps on a fly, much less anything worse..."
"So I'm being unfair to Potter, now? All he ever did was step on flies? All those years of rubbish mean nothing, because..."
"That's not what I said, and it's not what I meant," snapped Lily, getting to her feet. "But James Potter and I are housemates, and... it's easier on everyone if we get along."
"Get along? Lily, I've seen the pair of you together... he just stares, and you..."
"Sev, you're completely misinterpreting this."
"He wants to be your friend, Lily."
She hesitated, and then asked: "So what? Is it wrong for me to be friends with someone from my own house? I'll have to spend the next two years with him no matter what, and if he's stopped picking on you..."
"Is that what this is about? You've agreed to be his 'friend' if he stops starting rows with me? You're trying to protect me, is that right?" With his pride on the line, Snape's tone became colder, shakier.
"It's not like that," insisted Lily. "But he's trying... he really is trying not to be a completely immature git, and I don't think it's my place to judge him on what he's been in the past."
Severus looked at her carefully. "Is that your answer, then?"
"Sev..." He started to leave. "Sev, please!" Because Severus Snape was her childhood; he was Petunia before she hated Lily and Petunia when she hated her the most. He was the first time she did magic on purpose, and the time when her Dad had still been around, and a million other things of which Lily had not yet let go. "Sev, wait!"
And he did.
"You're my best friend," she said, starting towards him. It was the first time she'd admitted as much in what seemed to be centuries... since before they quarreled last year. "You've been my best friend for so long... I have to choose you. You know that I do."
Lily Evans thought she was in love and disliked the fact.
"Lily..."
"But I hate you for making me do this."
(Brotherhood and Other Lies)
Regulus Black was on his way down to supper when Sirius, now changed into casual robes, found him. The older boy called out his younger brother's name, and Regulus paused in his progression up the corridor.
"I want a word," said Sirius, and Regulus nodded for his fourth year companions to go on without him. Glowering at Sirius, they complied.
"I can't believe you're speaking to me," marveled Regulus, a handsome young wizard, who might have been Sirius's twin a few years before. He had hit his growth spurt, however, and was almost as tall as his brother. Regulus's hair was cut short, and his grin was not so captivating, but otherwise, the two looked very much the same. Except, of course, that Regulus wore his Slytherin colors. "I thought you..."
"Shut up," interrupted Sirius. Regulus blinked. "Lily Evans," began the elder, "is sixteen times the person you will ever be."
"W-what?"
"Marlene Price, Mary Macdonald—both your superior by miles."
"Sirius, I..."
"Remus Lupin," the older boy cut off his brother, "is a hundred times the wizard, and the person, and the brother that you could even hope to be. So the next time you want to go taunting some muggleborns or half-bloods because you're so superior, think about that, alright?"
"Sirius, I didn't..."
"Davey Michaels is telling a different story, you two-faced git."
"Davey Michaels is lying," Regulus said. "You have to believe me. I didn't do anything."
Sirius crossed his arms. "I didn't hear the story from Davey Michaels, Regulus," he said. "I heard it from our uncle."
Regulus had no words for some time. "I'm—I'm sorry, Sirius. C'mon, don't think that..."
"Stay the hell away from me," snapped Sirius. He pushed past Regulus, moving quickly away. He was followed.
"Sirius, I'm sorry! Sirius, listen to me!"
Sirius wheeled around to face his pursuer. "And why the hell should I, Regulus?"
Regulus looked hurt, and Sirius knew it. He knew it, and he really didn't care. "Because I'm your brother."
"That," said the other, anger charging his words like electricity, "is the second lie you've told me today." He turned and stormed away.
(Defeat)
Carlotta was alone in the Common Room at supper time. The remains of the party lay scattered around her, as everyone had gone off to supper or to lounge about the castle. Frank found her there, just sitting by the fire, her eyes glazed over and her expression somewhat vacant.
"Carlotta?"
She woke up, as if from a trance. "Frank."
"I wanted to let you know," the Head Boy began, as Carlotta rose and crossed the room to him; "I've decided. I've decided that I'll go on a date with you."
She blinked. "Really?"
"Yes. We'll go on a date, but after that, you'll give me space. Is that a deal?"
Carlotta nodded. "Unless you don't want me to give you space," she said, softly and sweetly. "It's a deal."
"On Friday, then?"
"On Friday then." She leaned forward and dryly added: "Should we kiss on it?"
Frank saw the glint of triumph in he eyes. In spite of everything, there really was something fantastic about her. "How about we just shake?" he replied quietly, holding out his hand. Carlotta slipped her own smaller, softer hand inside his grasp, leaning further forward still, so that their noses practically touched.
"See you on Friday," she said, before pulling back and sidestepping him. She walked away, a swish in her slim hips and a smile on her perfectly glossed lips.
Victory was beyond sweet.
(Hell If I Care)
The smoky grey clouds moved in overhead, and Lily watched. The grass beneath her was cold, in a nice, November kind of way, but her interest in that had dwindled half an hour ago. She lay out by the lake, hands behind her head, and eyes on the unhappy, changing sky.
"A little earl for stargazing, isn't it Evans?"
Her view of the sky was suddenly disrupted. James Potter looked down at her, and Lily sat up. "I was just... looking at the cloud," she said awkwardly, brushing the grass from her hair. "Nothing terribly interesting there, I just..." She stopped. "You're... you're heading up to the castle, are you?"
"No. Why do you say that?"
Wishful thinking. "I don't know, I just assumed. It... it looks like rain."
"Well, I'm thinking of giving November a chance," he announced.
"In that case," said the other hastily, "you don't want to get rained on. It might ruin your second first impression."
"What about you?"
"Oh, I'm going in soon anyway..."
James crossed his arms and cocked his head to one side. "You're trying to get rid of me, aren't you?" he asked, not in the least bothered by this.
"No, I just..."
"No, you're definitely trying to get rid of me. You don't want me here." So, of course, he sat down. "Why not?" (With that stupid, crooked grin). "Now I'm curious..."
"It's not that I'm trying to get rid of you," stammered Lily, unable to meet his eye. "I just don't want you to get caught in the rain, that's all. I'm barking mad, so I wouldn't mind, but, y'know, you're more... normal, and I thought..."
"You're a terrible, terrible liar sometimes."
Lily sighed and nodded. "But... but maybe it would be better if you left."
"Why?"
"I want to be alone, that's all."
James nodded understandingly. "Sounds boring," he said, unmoved. Lily rolled her eyes and tried not to smile.
"Really, Potter, I just..."
"We've returned to 'Potter' have we? That's not very friendly. Even potentially."
Lily was quiet. "Listen, James," she said after a while, speaking in a low voice with the impossible hope that she might not hear herself, "maybe we should just... just try to take things... that is, maybe we should just try to get along."
"Get along?" repeated James. "Sans one barely heated argument about legal restrictions on animagi in Transfiguration class, we haven't so much as bickered in days. Isn't that... getting along?"
"Well," Lily said, summoning her courage, "maybe that's just it. I mean, we... we find a way to fight about legal restrictions on animagi for heaven's sake, and that doesn't even apply to us. Imagine if it were something that really affected one of us! And 'days' isn't a very long record for not bickering, James. You're always getting on my nerves, and I'm always getting on your nerves, and maybe it's just better if we don't spend a lot of time together, so that we don't fight."
James's expression was unreadable. "Have I done something wrong?" he asked.
"No. It's not like that. Believe me; it's not.
"Then how is it? Why are you lying to me?"
"I'm..." She couldn't deny it, though. "I'm just... sorry."
"Alright." His hand was in his hair. "Fine. I don't... I don't care. I thought that this was what you wanted. Personally, Evans..." Getting to his feet, "...I could care less." He started to leave.
"Sev was my friend first," Lily called after him. James stopped and looked back at her, comprehension just beginning to dawn on his face. "He's always been there. He risks his reputation in his own house to be my mate, and I have to choose him. If there's a choice, I'll always have to choose him, whether I... no matter what. It's not fair, and I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is."
A series of emotions passed across James's face too quickly to be read, and then it became utterly stony. "Hell if I care, Evans," he said and left.
(Insanity)
"I hate her."
Peter sighed. "Prongs, mate..."
"No. She's insane. She is barking mad. Out of her sodding mind."
"Maybe she's just..."
"You're defending her!" said James dangerously, turning on his friend.
"No," Peter protested at once. "No, I'm not. You're right. You're completely, absolutely right."
"Damn straight I'm right," replied the other, resuming his pacing from one end of the dormitory to the other. Where their roommates had got to, James neither knew nor cared (though he rather wished Padfoot would show up to take over Peter's position. Sirius was excellent at agreeing with his hatred, no matter how artificial). "What the hell is her problem anyway? Why is she so...? Why can't she just...?" He stopped to breathe. "Lily Evans is going to be the death of me. Damn girl can't make up her mind... and I am done. I am done trying to figure out what the hell she's on about, because she is... insane."
Peter agreeably nodded as his friend searched the room for a cigarette.
James Potter knew he was in love and positively hated it.
(That Night)
"So that's it," Lily finished, and Remus was quiet. "They write songs about these kinds of days," she went on, drying her eyes with the moist handkerchief. "Sad, depressing, slit-your-wrist songs." But her companion remained silent, which worried her. "You hate me, don't you? I know and I get it: I was stupid to think I could be friends with the both of them... I was stupid to think that Snape would accept that I was mates with his worst enemy..."
"Not stupid, Lily," cut in Remus. "Optimistic."
"It was wrong of me," the other pressed on. "I was thoughtless... I didn't take everyone into consideration from the start. Now James hates me, I hate me, you probably hate me..."
Remus shook his head. "I don't hate you, Lily," he said. "You're too damn sad to hate. But," he continued, quieter and more seriously: "you should know... he might not be able to forget this. Prongs is... James is... complicated, and I think that... that the whole civility thing is pretty much going to be over for the two of you."
Lily pushed her hair from her eyes. She had realized this, but not really. "Right."
A/N: And now that everyone hates me... please review! So, in case it was unclear, the only parts that Lily is relating to Remus are the parts in which she features.
I PROMISE there will be more mystery-plot in the next chapter. That keeps getting delayed... originally it was in chapter 7, then 8, and now it didn't make it into 9, but I guarantee it in 10.
Feedback is especially crucial for this chapter, incidentally—I'm getting a bad vibe from it, and I want to know what you think.
Reviews are Half-Baked Ice Cream! (...which I am now craving. damn it.)
Love and cookies,
Jewels