Chapter Eleven

The Fine Line Between Love and Black

I kept mostly to myself that weekend. The girls sensed my need for space and left me to my own devices until I was ready. I think they had figured out the gist of what all had gone down with Bertram Aubrey last term, considering how messed up I had been since starting sixth year, and I was relieved that I didn't have to spill my guts again so soon after I had first talked to Evans.

Dorcas had been in a right state since breakfast Friday morning, and I'd noticed she hadn't gone to Madam Pomfrey to heal her bruised knuckles and she hadn't done it herself either, instead choosing to walk around with a swollen hand. Becca had taken it upon herself to visit the kitchens and ask some of the house-elves to occasionally bring me tea or biscuits, which I found endearing, if not a little coddling. And Emmeline, blessed little soul she was, seemed to be the only one who still acted normally with me, obviously sensing that normalcy was really the only thing I wanted and needed.

I hadn't seen any of the Marauders since that one morning, either. Evans had informed me that Potter was keeping them on lockdown, though she'd sounded funny saying it. It took me until that night to figure out why, though, as I'd sat with Emmeline while she filled out her star charts for N.E.W.T. Astronomy; the full moon was Saturday, which meant Lupin would be transforming. I didn't see how his lycanthropy had anything to do with the others, but I was grateful for their temporary absence. It'd probably spare me from pulling a Dorcas and decking Black in his pretty face.

Sunday afternoon, I decided to go to the library, partly to catch up on the week's worth of homework I hadn't done, but mostly to get out of Gryffindor Tower. The anxiety of running into any one of the Marauders was too much, and I was perfectly content with my quiet, normal weekend, thank you very much.

I'd forgotten just how quiet the library was. My footsteps sounded like thunderclaps in the large room as I headed for one of the front tables, eyeing the hidden back ones uneasily. Okay, so maybe I hadn't come here just to do homework. Maybe this was me taking Evans's advice and starting that healing process. They said it was best to face your fears head-on, and while I didn't exactly fear anything, I decided to apply the same rule here. I had to face the music, or else I'd probably be stuck in a loop on repeat forever.

I hadn't been back in here since before O.W.L.s, and I was beginning to feel feverish the longer I tried to focus on my Transfiguration essay. I kept scratching my legs, my fingernails rubbing my skin raw underneath my denim pants, and my right foot wouldn't stop tapping. God, this chair was so uncomfortable; no amount of fidgeting made it better either.

I wrote out a sentence for my essay. The first exception to Gamp's Elemental Law of Transfiguration is food – food cannot be Conjured from thin air, and it cannot be Transfigured from nothing.

Sweat beaded on my forehead.

Concentrate. Concentrate.

The dim lights, the dark corner. The table. There'd been an ink splotch on the table. I hadn't taken my eyes off it.

Concentrate.

This had been a bad idea. Not even bothering for my ink to finish drying, I grabbed my essay, quill, and inkpot and shoved them hastily into my bag, striding for the door. Madam Pince, the librarian, shot me a nasty look as I pushed past her and a giant stack of floating books, but I didn't care, only focusing on the great doors in front of me.

I practically threw myself into the corridor, breathing heavily and feeling like I had just run a marathon. Angry tears pricked my eyes.

What was wrong with me? I couldn't even walk into the library without feeling like a pathetic crybaby. I couldn't even look at a bloody book without feeling sick.

Fuck this, I thought angrily. Fuck him for doing this to me.

Time, Evans's voice reminded me. It takes time. Healing takes time.

I didn't want to fucking heal. I just wanted everything to go back to how it used to be. I wanted to be normal again. I wanted Archie to love me again. I wanted my family to be whole again. I just wanted everything to be bloody normal.

Fuck. Fuck.

I spun on my heel, heading back to Gryffindor Tower before I could lose it again, only to collide with something solid as I turned the corner.

"FUCK OFF!" I shouted, my temper bubbling over.

I attempted to brush past the person I had run into before Black's voice said, "Everlark?"

I walked faster, my blood boiling.

"Everlark. Everlark, bloody wait, will you?"

"NO!" I yelled, wheeling around to face him. I vaguely registered his black eye, but somehow, it only made me angrier. "YOU DON'T GET TO SAY SHIT TO ME. I WAS DOING FINE UNTIL YOU RUINED EVERYTHING BY OPENING YOUR SODDING MOUTH. NOW FUCK OFF, AGAIN."

I got two steps before slouching against the wall, bawling my eyes out. Of fucking course. Because that was all I did nowadays – cry, cry, and more crying. I was sick of it.

If I could've breathed through my tears I would've started screaming again as Black approached me. He was clearly out of his depth, and I don't think I'd ever seen him look so uncomfortable as he hovered near my shoulder uncertainly.

"C'mon," he said quietly, nudging me. "C'mon, love."

Despite all my rage, I allowed him to pull me gently along the corridors, my feet dragging on the stones as I sniffled. We didn't run into anyone, thank God, and I somehow got the feeling that he was doing this on purpose, leading us down passageways and corridors I had never even seen until we reached the Hufflepuff Basement.

He reached out to a painting of a bowl of fruit, tickling a pear that giggled before turning into a doorknob. He opened the door and ushered me inside the kitchens, leading me to a long table that resembled the Gryffindor one in the Great Hall above and sitting me down.

"Hot cocoa," he ordered one of the house-elves. "And chocolate, whatever you have."

The house-elf nodded before scurrying off, and I grabbed one of the napkins off the table, using it to wipe my eyes.

"Just because I'm crying doesn't mean I'm on my period, Black," I said, blowing my nose, and his handsome face tilted into the tiniest of smirks. "I don't need chocolate."

"Chocolate helps everything," he said. "Remus taught us that, remember?"

My gut spasmed at the mention of Lupin, but he didn't seem to notice.

"You should really use 'please,'" I said, referring to the house-elves.

He looked sheepish. "Old habit," he said. "Our house-elf back home is a miserable git. Was," he corrected himself with a frown.

"Did it die?"

He snorted. "I wish. Nah, I just don't live there anymore. Moved in with James and his parents last summer."

Well, that was news to me. I knew Black had a rocky relationship with his family ever since he became a Gryffindor, but I never knew just how bad it had gotten.

"Oh," I said for lack of anything better. "Right."

We fell into silence as several house-elves scuttled over, carrying two mugs of hot cocoa and a platter of chocolate that looked as if it had been chopped right off the slab. I gave Black a pointed look as they bowed.

"Thank you," he said, nodding to the house-elves, who looked about ready to implode at his acknowledgment before they whisked away. I swear one of them even burst into tears before the sound was immediately muffled.

I took a sip from the hot cocoa, flinching when it burned my tongue, but it was so good I didn't stop drinking it, letting the mug warm my hands. Only after we had drained our drinks and started nibbling on the chocolate did Black speak.

"I wanted to apologize," he said, his eyes trained on the chunk of chocolate in his fingers. "For Friday, I mean. What I said…" He shook his head, scowling. "I don't know what came over me. It was a cheap shot, and I'm sorry."

He inhaled deeply while I sat, watching him.

"Looking back on everything Aubrey said…" I flinched involuntarily at the sound of his name, and Black just looked sad. "I don't think the story he told was true at all. That was evident by the look on your face. And just now, outside of the library…"

Oh, motherfucker. Black was so much more perceptive than I thought. He'd pieced it together; I could tell just by looking into his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed. "Ever – Piper, please believe me when I say I didn't know. I'm so fucking sorry."

"I don't want your pity," I said, and even though my voice lacked any of its usual bite, he still winced as if I had struck him. I sighed, rubbing my hands up and down my face. "It's not your fault, Black, I know that."

I looked down at my empty mug, finding it metaphorical.

"It's just… I tried so hard to repress it. Just forget it, like it was all some bad dream. And then you said those things, and it was like whatever glass bubble I had kept myself in shattered." He opened his mouth, but I shook my head, continuing. "And as shitty as you made me feel, you also made me realize something. That I couldn't keep living in that…illusion. That I have to face what happened to me and move forward as best I can.

"I don't want to think about what would have happened had I kept going on the way I was. Maybe I would've convinced myself it was a dream, maybe I would've repressed it. But what about in ten, twenty, thirty years, when it would all come crashing down on me one day? I don't think I could've survived that. So in a way…thank you, I guess. For opening my eyes or whatever."

I suddenly fixed him with a hard stare. "That doesn't mean that what you did was fair. You were cruel, Black. You've humiliated me time and again, but even for you, this was too far."

He cringed. "I know. Godric, Piper, I fucking know. And I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for everything." He blinked rapidly, and it took me a second to process that he was trying to hold back tears. Holy shit. Sirius Black. Crying. The fuck?

"I hated you," he admitted, and I blinked. This was no shock, of course – I knew he hated me but hearing him say it was something else. "I hated you for so long. I had no one except for James, Remus, and Peter. My family turned their backs on me as soon as I was Sorted, and I was so scared of being abandoned like that again. And when you came along, I was so happy. I had another friend, one who didn't act accordingly just because of my name, one who could see past everything and just…see me."

Great. Now I was the one holding back tears.

"When you left, I thought of you as just like everyone else in my life who had abandoned me. And I hated you for that. I wanted you to feel as bad as I felt." He scoffed, and I could see his lower lip trembling. "But I never wanted to cause you this much pain. And no amount of apologies can ever fix this, but I just… Fuck, I'm sorry."

I wordlessly handed him a napkin, waiting as he composed himself. Everything he said had cut me right to the bone, but I stayed silent until he had calmed down.

"I missed you," I said finally. "All of you. Even after I had convinced myself that you were no good and I was better off without you, I couldn't stop myself from wondering what it would have been like had I stayed your friend." I frowned. "I don't…regret leaving. I think the thing that I actually regret the most was never being humble enough to apologize sooner and be your friend again."

"Gryffindor pride," Black snorted suddenly. "A wonderful but oddly stunting trait."

I chuckled, taking a bite out of the half-melted chocolate in my hand. "True."

"So, what does this mean?" he asked a few moments later, and I raised my brows. "For us? Remus told us about your, er, truce."

I studied him carefully, weighing my options. He was right – my Gryffindor pride was clawing its way to the surface, but couldn't I swallow that down once more? I needed friends. I couldn't deny myself that anymore. And Black…for all his melodramatic and sometimes ill-intentioned ways, he was loyal, and once upon a time, I could have considered him a brother. And maybe I needed that again.

"I think a new treaty could be arranged," I said, and he gave me a lopsided grin that would have made many a girl immediately drop her panties. "Find me later this week, and perhaps we can write one up."

"Aye, aye, Captain Everlark," he said, giving me a mock salute.

"That's Piper to you, bastard."

"And that's Sirius to you, ninny."

Yeah, I thought, this was more like it.

Remus was sick of the bloody hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey was wonderful, of course; she always was, considering how fond she was of him, but the kind matron could only go so far as to provide him with stimulating conversation. Once the small talk of school and lessons had been exhausted, she retreated into her office to replenish the potions she had given him that morning, while he was confined to his cot, waiting to feel better so he could leave.

Over the years, his transformations had become somewhat bearable, as much as he loathed them, but these last few moons were taking a toll on him. He could feel it aching in his bone marrow, moving sluggishly through his bloodstream, making him more tired and pained than he usually was when he came back to himself the morning after. It wasn't hard to figure out why, really; his mother had told him when he was younger that certain stresses in his human mind could take over when he became the wolf, making him more aggressive and violent than what should be normal. He was sure she had gotten that out of some book she had found after he had been bitten as a child, but for once, the information was accurate.

Piper Everlark – though he could never blame her – that was all on him and his damned curse, he thought bitterly – had been on his mind from the moment she had hexed Sirius on the Hogwarts Express, and it wasn't difficult to pinpoint the origins of his stress. The last two months had seen nothing but a whirlwind of emotions between them, and after what had happened Friday, before his transformation…well, suffice to say, the wolf had been in agony. Even if he lost his human mind during his transformations, the echo of the wolf's was always there, and it had been torture for him. If it weren't for the others, he was sure he would have torn the Shrieking Shack to nothing but rubble last night.

He was furious with Sirius – he had had no right to say those things to her. And Piper… Remus had seen the look on her face before she fled the Hall. Sirius hadn't just insulted her – he'd broken her.

Remus's hands clenched into fists involuntarily at the mere recollection of what had transpired. He'd maintained a stone-cold silence since the incident, wanting to wait until after the full moon to confront his mate, or else… Well, his moods were always volatile leading up to the moon, and he shuddered at the thought of what he might've done in his anger. Given him more than a black eye, that was for sure.

The other thing that worried him was that everything he had just worked so hard for with Piper was ruined. Just when he had made amends with her, Sirius had to go and blow it all up. It had been hard enough getting her to agree to stop being enemies the first time, and now Remus feared he had lost her for good. Any chance of reconciliation had evaporated, and that thought alone was enough to make him want to hit something.

Around mid-afternoon, Remus awoke from a light doze to the sound of echoing laughter, and he rolled his eyes as he recognized the voices of his friends heading for the hospital wing. He scowled as he deciphered Sirius's barking laugh over all the others, and he sat up in his cot slowly, willing himself to remain calm.

The doors burst open and in trotted James, Sirius, and Peter, the three still chuckling over some joke as they headed for Remus's bed.

"Moony!" James cried. "Just the man I wanted to see."

"How are you feeling?" Peter asked in a low voice.

"Fine," he answered offhandedly, his eyes flicking over Sirius briefly before scowling, his teeth clenching together.

James and Peter exchanged a look, and Remus dug his fingers into the blanket.

"Remus," James started, "listen—"

"What the bloody hell were you playing at?" Remus snapped, speaking over James and fixing his glare on Sirius.

"I dunno," Sirius said quietly, looking guilty. "Something just came over me, and I wasn't thinking—"

"Well, that much is obvious," he said, and Sirius winced at the frost in his tone. "After everything I did to convince her that I was sorry—"

"Nothing's changed!" Sirius said hastily. "Moony, listen, I talked to her today. I apologized and everything. It's all right, really; she doesn't hate us. Certainly not you."

Remus paused, his mouth still gaping, but whatever scathing retort he had planned on coming out had suddenly disappeared. Piper didn't hate him?

Sirius grinned. "The water's finally under the bridge, mate. You have your Pied Piper back."

Remus instantly blanched, looking at Sirius in horror as the others choked on their laughter.

"I don't – that's not – I called her that when I was twelve!" he said, aghast. "You can't hold that over me!"

"I'm sure she'd love it if you called her that now," James said, snickering. "She'd probably send a sweet little jinx your way."

Peter laughed harder, and Remus groaned, his face reddening. "Please don't make me regret this."

The MAC was in full swing Wednesday.

Now that auditions were over, we had to begin staging the play, which was a lot easier said than done, I realized. It was hard enough trying to memorize my lines outside of the club meetings considering all the N.E.W.T. work I had to do (turning over a new leaf, remember?), but it was even harder considering all the other stuff I had to memorize: movements, stage directions, cues, all that other drama geek stuff.

Flitwick had made Evans our stage manager, which was generous of him, especially after her horrendous audition. The red-haired Gryffindor was in her zone, though, barking directions at us and making sure everything was running smoothly, as Flitwick seemed more invested in that night's Evening Prophet than whatever we were doing. As annoying as she was sometimes, she at least knew what she was doing, and it kept us from being too much of a disaster as we rehearsed.

As they began rehearsing the first scene with Theseus, Hippolyta, and Philostrate (played by an incredibly weird cast of a fifth-year Hufflepuff named Leo Alvarez, a fourth-year Ravenclaw named Katie Stiefel who didn't seem to know the difference between her right and left, and some freak of a first-year who ran around with the Fortescue kid), I stood off to the side, attempting to memorize my lines.

"These are the forgeries of jealousy. And never, since the middle summer's spring/met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead/By paved fountain, or by rushy brook/Or in the beached margent of the sea/To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind/But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport. Therefore the winds…"

I trailed off, my mind blanking on the next part. I sighed in frustration, pulling out my script from where I had stuffed it into the back of my skirt, only to fumble and nearly drop it when someone began speaking behind me.

"I'm surprised you don't remember the next line," Lupin said, approaching me with a slight grin as he held up his own script. "It has your name in it."

"Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain," I said, startled. "Yeah, I got it now. Thanks."

I went back to reading my script, my eyes unseeing as I was acutely aware of his presence. I hadn't spoken to him since the incident, though I'd tried to acknowledge him when I could in the corridors or at meals. Trying to keep up that truce and all. Still, that didn't stop me from becoming instantly on edge whenever he was around me.

"Er, how are your lines coming along?" I asked him, nodding to the script. "Lysander, right?"

"Yeah," he said, flicking idly through the pages. "They're coming. I just have to focus more on the longer scenes, but other than that, I think I'm doing all right. You?"

I waved my script around sarcastically. "You're witnessing it. I've got nothing."

"Oh, do you need help?" he asked. I raised my brows at him, and suddenly he looked nervous. "I mean, it doesn't have to be me specifically, of course – I think other people have formed little study groups, kind of, and I was saying you could join one of those if you need help with your lines – not that you do need help with your lines, it was just a suggestion — "

Good Lord, watching him struggle was painful.

"I got it, Lupin, thanks," I said, fighting to hold back a grin at his sheepish expression. "Study groups aren't really my thing though. I prefer one-on-one."

I gave him a pointed look, and his eyebrows shot up. "You want to work with me?"

"That's kinda what the look was for," I said, and he rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. "But yeah. I mean, that's what acquaintances do, right? Help each other out?"

He seemed almost…happy. That was weird. When was the last time I had ever seen Remus Lupin so happy?

"Yeah," he said. "They do."

We shared a small smile, perhaps holding it for a little too long before I cleared my throat and looked away, my face strangely warm as I brandished my script.

"All right, then," I said. "Let's get to work, Lysander!"

He rolled his eyes. "As you wish, Titania."

I didn't notice the way his face flushed after he said that because I was already hoping he hadn't noticed me do the same thing.

Ugh. Drama, right? (And I didn't mean the play).