A/N: I live!
sorry for the delay, this was a monster to write. It was like I came back from holiday and my brain went "we adult? then no create." I was swamped at work and had lots of pressure, but I dyed my hair blonde, went on a mini holiday with the girlies and finished the longest chapter to date!
I don't expect anyone to still be reading this, lol, it took me so long but I still want to keep posting it as I go along. The middle scene was the only reason I hadn't posted yet if I'm honest (I've been working on it for literally four months) so I should go back to a better schedule now that I got it out of the way.
If you see any mistakes... no you didnt.
reviews:
Eennio: I did have a lovely holiday thank you! Best two weeks of my year ngl. Sorry you had to wait this long for an update, I appreciated your review and I hope you sometime find yourself back here for this chapter!
CONTENT WARNING: substance abuse (drugs, alcohol), past attempted suicide (mentioned, mildly described). Look after yourself. proceed with caution. UK Samaritans number: 116 123
ALL THE THREADS OF FATE
PART I
CRUEL SUMMER
XI.
My hair was powder blue. For a split second of total confusion, I could only gape at my reflection.
Mindless of the small drops of water still clinging to my lashes, I rose a long strand to my face. Where once platinum blonde would shine a pale gold, the blue twisted into almost cerulean.
The horror did not end there. As I watched, befuddled, the roots of my hair began to darken, much like a wave washing the shore, until my whole head was a bright, obnoxious turquoise. Just as fast, the strands at the top of my head switched to a red so fierce it put Lily's fiery mane to shame.
Mary yelped as the door to our lavatory slammed against the wall. There was a grumble of protest from Marlene's bed. Her curtains were still drawn, but I doubted if I peeked I would see differently. Mary's corkscrew curls, warring against the tight silk she wrapped around them each night, were blue as they bounced around her face. Not the powder blue shade mine had been, but a shade so electric it resembled a jinx. They were turning a pale yellow as I strode towards Lily's bed.
"Mer?" Lily mumbled into her elbow. "I get that you like to wake up at the crack of dawn—" she yawned, loud, and swatted in my general direction like I was a mosquito. "but some of us like to sleep."
I offered her the oval mirror she kept on her bedside. "Trust me, you want to be awake for this."
Lily groaned through her nose, pressing her eyes deeper into her elbow as if the action could return her to a deep slumber, before bouncing into a sitting position. She still had her eyes scrunched shut, so I wrapped her fingers around the mirror and held her hand aloft.
Lily's mouth fell into a perfect O as she inspected her hair, which, falling limp around her face and shoulders, was a strange greenish yellow that somehow made her skin look grey. Or maybe that was the shock of it all.
"Oh, my god!" Mary cried. "I look so cute! Lily, let me look at you!"
She jumped into the bed, a flurry of orange—the type of shade found in flowers, rather than the fruit—and gathered Lily's hair into her hands, who was still too dumbfounded to do much but let her. As I moved over to Dorcas' bed, Lily's hair had swayed into a rose pink that was much lovelier on her.
Dorcas was already sat up in bed when I peeked through her curtains. She had pushed all of her hair forwards so the short strands obscured her face like an overgrown fringe, and her fingers were running through clumps of it. Unlike the rest of us, her hair changed colour the fastest, so it appeared as if locks of it had been painted a different hue with meticulous care.
"If this is her doing," Dorcas said as soon as she spied me through the space between a cornflower blue and blood red strand. "I will truly murder her. I will take the expulsion with grace. That red is not your colour."
I opted not to dwell on her last statement. "I don't think it was her."
Though I wouldn't put it past Marlene to attempt something of the sort—she was vindictive when nettled, and Dorcas and I had been delighting in doing just that for a while now—she would not include Mary and Lily. Marlene liked them best.
Dorcas pushed her hair all the way back. It hung in a shiny sheet around her face, almost brushing her shoulders, and though the strands had returned to their inky black colour, I did not believe it was because whatever spell had befallen us had faded. Indeed, there was a sheen of dark green about the roots that was unnatural.
"Then who?" she wondered.
It was Lily who replied.
"Potter. And his friends."
She said the word friends like one might gaggle of wild dogs.
"Yes." I confirmed.
"I will never speak to him again. I mean it this time!"
"I hate them."
"I love them!" Mary chirped, still perched on Lily's bed. "Reckon they would show me how?"
A shrill scream kept me from answering. Marlene stumbled from her bed, foot caught on the velvet curtain, with a hair that looked like a bird's nest and was half apple green and half the same neon blue Mary's had been. Never had I seen her hair in such disarray, with feathery wisps going each way and mats gathering strands in clumps.
"My hair's green!" She screeched like a banshee.
Dorcas made a little sound, but I did not look her way for fear I'd burst out laughing.
"And blue." I supplied.
Marlene scowled at the smile I was failing to suppress.
"Well," she sniffed. "I'll have you know yours is the ugliest amber—"
She said it like this ought to shock me. As if we hadn't been discussing our changed hair for a while before she bothered to take a look at her own head. I snorted, glancing at my hair to find it had indeed changed to an amber more similar to honey than pale whiskey. In fact, it now looked like—
Marlene continued, no doubt catching my train of thought, "worse than your eyes."
"Sod off." I sniped with enough venom to startle myself. Marlene gaped, taken aback.
"Quit it, both of you." Lily called. She and Mary had moved to the door, and while Mary appeared impatient to reach the Common Room, Lily and her slate grey hair looked equal parts upset and disappointed. "We shouldn't be angry with each other, but with the people actually responsible."
Unwilling to wait anymore, Mary rushed down the stairs. Soon as she vanished from sight, hoots and laughter rang from below. It was seven in the morning; I could think of only four very satisfied boys that would be down there at this hour.
Dorcas mumbled something unsavoury under her breath, storming to the door. I followed, ignoring Marlene behind me all the way down to the common room.
James and his friends, still in their jimjams, were huddled by the little settee and armchair right by the girls' staircase. It was not their usual spot. Peter had pulled up his legs and crossed them on the armchair, Remus by his feet, but James and Sirius were cramped into the settee.
Mary had climbed onto the armrest next to Peter. The excitement had not quite left her yet, even though Peter looked very confused at her glee. Lily, however, was shouting at James and Sirius, neither of whom looked the least repentant.
They all looked up as Dorcas and I approached. James took one look at me and burst into laughter so strong he wheezed and clutched his belly. Sirius laughed, too, winking at Marlene behind me. To my horror, my anger twisted into mortification. My ears burned and my eyes smarted.
"I'm so confused," Peter mumbled.
He looked from an annoyed Dorcas to Mary and down to a length of parchment on his lap. He puzzled hard over my own hair.
"I'm not," said Remus with a smug little smile I couldn't understand.
"Merry, dear cousin, what's wrong? You look particularly…" James trailed off. He twisted on his seat, making to reach for me but falling short by at least a hand. He pouted. "Wait—you're the wrong colour. Can you change what you're feeling? The jokes I prepared only work for certain emotions. I didn't expect you to be grey, or… pink?! Pete, quick, which pink is that?"
Peter looked very much like he'd rather the whole focus of our group returned anywhere else. He scratched behind his ear, avoiding eye contact.
"Erh…"
"I told you!" Remus insisted from his spot on the floor.
My anger sparked anew. They were acting like we weren't even there! Sirius kept staring at my hair with narrowed eyes as if it were my fault that their silly joke had backfired. He climbed over the backrest of the settee in one swift move that landed him exactly between Dorcas and me. His hair was in a messy topknot, and a faded pair of flannel bottoms hung loosely down his legs to gather about his socked feet. It was the same pair, I noted with a little start, he'd worn that night we'd shouted at each other. At least today he donned a shirt, an oversized Led Zep tee that looked delicious to sleep in.
"What did you mean, James?" Dorcas sidestepped Sirius. "When you said she ought to change what she's feeling."
That was a wonderful question, quite sharp, except my brain had barrelled into its own horrific realisation: I hadn't changed. I'd stumbled into the lavatory for a quick wee and to get ready, but washing my face was as far as I got. My hair wasn't brushed, my mouth was cottony, and I was still wearing my pyjamas, which consisted of a pair of shorts with cute bunnies frolicking amongst blue anemones, and an oversized black-blue-green flannel I was pretty certain belonged to James. Or my brother. I couldn't recall how it'd ended up in my closet, I'd stolen it so long ago.
I eyed Sirius's bottoms.
Merlin. I prayed it hadn't belonged to him.
"They stole my mood ring!" Lily raged, her hands fisted on either side and her hair the colour of maraschino cherries. "And somehow turned it into a potion! They won't say how."
Sirius shrugged at her. "It was terribly clever."
"It was easy." James chortled.
Remus rolled his eyes. "We've been working it out since the glitter glob incident, it was not easy."
My heart swooped. I scrambled for a piece of hair. The deeper my dread settled, the faster the hair changed from a bubble-gum pink highlighted with teal to black.
"You mean—" Marlene spluttered. She was flushed to her forehead, and her hair was a mix of bubble-gum pink and an odd metallic gold. "You mean our hair colours reveal what we're feeling?"
"All the time." Peter confirmed.
"About anything," James supplied.
Sirius winked at her again, wiggled his eyebrows. The bubble-gum pink in Marlene's hair livened to a painful vermillion as he said, "And anyone."
"This is so fun!" Mary laughed.
This is a nightmare.
"This is nonsense." Dorcas protested. Her hair had returned to the greenish black of earlier, but a baby blue could be spied about her roots. "How the hell did you manage it? I have been very careful not to touch anything you offer. Especially food or drink. I've learned."
The boys laughed, chuffed. Second Year, they had managed to spike a water fountain in the West Wing and a total of twenty students and two faculty members had been found floating about aimlessly like abandoned balloons. Clearly, the memory was a fond one.
"'We must not look at goblin men'," said Lily wryly.
Mary snorted. But other than her and Remus none of us really got the point. I could not see why she would advise us not to look at goblins, or why she'd choose to specify it was the males of the species one ought to look out for. Lily didn't seem to think she needed to elaborate.
"It was the cranberry juice, wasn't it?" I realised. "You spiked it. Or maybe you spiked our goblets first, I don't know. When Lily and I got to dinner last night, our goblets were already filled with it."
James nodded, his smile big and proud.
"Mine, too." Marlene admitted. She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I thought…"
Her voice trailed off. Her hair changed colour again to a storm cloud grey. A wave of protectiveness swelled over me. They had forced my friends to be vulnerable where they did not wish it. Dorcas had pulled her hair up into such tight a bun it must have been painful. Lily had never stood so tense, like a bowstring about to snap. Marlene looked like she wanted to crawl into herself. Though not my favourite person at the moment, I was still offended on her behalf.
"Are you proud?" Sirius was the closest to me, and also the easiest to be mad at, so I directed my glare at him. "I wonder you'll look that amused when I shave your hair off."
"You wouldn't," Sirius said, not at all bothered by my hostility. "Besides, it wouldn't have the same effect, now, would it?"
He stepped even nearer, so close he warmed my side, and peered at my head with an expression alight with curiosity. My hair must have changed again—and I hated to linger too long on that—because his eyebrows climbed up his forehead, and the grey of his eyes twinkled silver.
"I don't know, Prongs," he commented over his shoulder. "I quite like the brown on her."
I exclaimed, so baffled by the—the compliment? Barb? Whatever it was, that I couldn't form proper words. Sirius's mouth was crooked around a contained smile. He was enjoying this way too much. I pulled a face at him, ignoring the manic beating of my heart.
"How long is it going to last?" I asked my cousin.
James was stood in front of Lily, way into her personal space. His hand jerked like he desperately wanted to reach out to her but was wise enough to heed the warning on her face. The pout on his mouth was comical, and he stared at her hair like it held the answer to every question he had ever had.
"Jamie." I called and regretted it immediately when Sirius's crooked smile widened into a wolfish grin.
James swirled around to face us; his mouth, too, had slipped into a smile.
"That's the best part, and the reason it took us so long." Oh, no. It would so be the worst part. "The effects of the potion needed at least ten hours to take hold, but once fully absorbed will last around 120 hours, give or take a few? Apparently it's not a strict baseline and varies from witch to witch, which was alarming to learn, let me tell you."
I stared at him. James' nervous chuckle faded into a somewhat worried look.
"What the fuck are you prattling on about, Potter?" Dorcas voiced our collective confusion.
"We based it off the contraceptive elixir," Remus said when my cousin only managed to open and close his mouth. "James here was of the impression it was infallible."
Lily gasped. "It's not?!"
That was enough to recover James from his mute spell.
"You're on it? Why? I mean—" he stuttered, somehow managing to look like a gaping fish and a kicked puppy all in one. "Not that there's anything, erh, wrong with—who are you—? No. No. I don't want to know."
He lifted a hand to Lily's face, even though she had stared at him with a dry expression the whole time and had given no inclination she'd answer. I had to commend her poker face considering her cheeks were aflame and her hair was the same greenish yellow from earlier that morning. I guessed that colour meant embarrassment. Or shame?
"Is he more handsome than me?" James asked with a grimace. "Is it… Remus? It's Remus, isn't it."
"SHUT it, Potter!" Dorcas snapped.
James yelped.
I buried my face in my hands and screamed. Loud. Shrill. Like I had wanted to when I read that Hogwarts: a Gossip article. It did not help as I hoped it would.
"Sweet Circe!" Marlene whinged.
Through the cracks between my fingers, I saw Sirius wince and stumble back a step. When he recovered, though, he somehow ended up closer than before.
"Come on, guys." Mary's voice was soft and soothing. "You can admit how funny this is."
No. It was ingenious, and, fine, a little funny, but it was exposing, and embarrassing, and the equivalent of copying diary pages and sharing them with the whole school. And it would last. Five. Fucking. Days.
"Funny?" I lifted my head from my hands. "I have never been so furious!"
"Not true." Peter tutted. "Dorcas and Lily, they're furious. Mary is delighted and Marlene is… huh. Jealous. You, however, are…"
He glanced down the length of parchment in his lap. Sirius tugged on my hair, a quiet Starlight that sounded like an entreaty leaving his lips; I swatted at his hand with a scowl.
"Um, you know what? Maybe this isn't accurate, it's just an estimation, you understand." Peter's cheeks were dusk pink, and his watery eyes found the parchment most interesting. He leaned over to whisper not-low-enough to Remus, "Next time you write down the key."
I glanced at my hair; its most prominent colour was chocolate, but thin lines of bubble-gum pink interspaced with long swipes of the same honey amber from before and the dark red of a rose. I had a terrible inkling that Peter now knew a very deep secret. Peter, who had been ready to blurt out the name Sirius had called in a forgetful lust-infused daze just to please a crowd.
"And what colour is murderous?" My fists were tight as I strode toward him. "Because it will be the last thing you see before darkness when I am done with you."
Chaos descended. Lily and Dorcas joined me in berating Peter, who was forced to stand on the armchair as he insisted this was our fault rather than theirs, and if anything we should blame Marlene, who had started the whole challenge in the first place.
"Not true!" She shrieked. "You were the ones acting like that boring horrible prank was brilliant!"
James spluttered. "Um, because it was?"
Marlene rolled her eyes with her whole head. Her hair changed to a coffee black. "Oh, please! You only did it so Meredith would quit being such an ogre!"
"Seriously?" Lily scoffed. She slapped James's shoulder with the back of her hand. "A knife nearly took out my eye."
The situation only derailed from there.
Mary was happy chatting with Remus about which colours meant what, and how many emotions had they considered, while Remus appeared delighted each time any shade of pink showed in her hair. Lily and James carried on bickering, though my cousin appeared increasingly alarmed and defeated when Lily's hair took on the ugliest colour I had ever seen: like green, brown, and mustard had somehow procreated.
In the end, it was for naught. There was no antidote, so to speak, and while rooted in the contraception potion, their similarities ended in absorption and longevity, so Lily's argument that they be handed detention for potentially counteracting the actual contraceptive elixir was null.
I wasn't particularly fussed about that, since I preferred a different, more accurate method of contraception. What I was fussed about was having to live for a week with my heart on my sleeve.
Though the potion didn't always show what we were feeling. There appeared to be a baseline of sorts, one or two colours that would merge when we were in a relaxed state, or not feeling any strong emotion.
Dorcas's was a lovely peach colour that did wonders to her skin tone and brought out the dark browns in her eyes. She hated it, and took to wearing her hair in a tight braid or a knot as high as the short strands allowed it. More than once I caught her nervously checking a flyaway strand at certain moments. She took to wearing a hat outside of class. Her hair changed the most during Potions, and dinner.
Lily's baseline was either teal—which puzzled James something fierce—or a pearlescent blue so light it reminded me of unicorn hair. Her hair was also the one that changed the most throughout the day but never, I noticed, to the colour or shade of a colour that James hoped. Sirius teased him constantly.
When I was not feeling some particular type of way, my hair was a mix of deep warm purple or an indigo so cool and deep it might as well have been violet. Freyr and Addie had found it hilarious that my spiritual signature happened to be the very colour I despised. While not as fast as Lily, my hair, too, changed pretty often. I seemed to always be that same mixture of amber and bubble-gum pink whenever I hung out with the boys, streaked through with chocolate brown or blue, sometimes a red or a yellow. Remus was terribly smug about that, and twice I caught him and James exchanging a sickle underhand after examining my hair. Neither would tell why.
Mary's hair, when not some colour or other, rested on a lovely shade of sunflower yellow, with a touch of golden like a pear. Her delight never faded, not even as the whispers and laughter followed us down the Great Hall, or during class. She didn't even flinch the first time McGonagall saw us and demanded to know what we'd done to ourselves. She'd threatened to dock House Points for break of uniform, until we explained, and then she docked House Points anyway and hoped we would all take this as a lesson that nothing good ever came from practical jokes. I doubted that would be the case.
The worst one, however, was Marlene's. It was a pale cream, as if she had merely allowed her golden locks to bleach in the Mediterranean sun. She got the least laughs out of us and the most positive attention. Dorcas avoided her like the plague. I took to going to bed only at a time I knew she'd already be conked out.
When Mary's birthday came, the Wednesday before half-term, she picked the most colourful and brightest outfit she owned for her birthday party, claiming that way her hair would match her clothes regardless of where her emotions went. Her mini skirt was a neon orange so bright it hurt the eyes, and her crop top was a mixture of different-coloured strips of fabric she had hand-sewn herself. Her patent heels were pristine white lending her so many extra inches she could have hung off Remus's neck without spraining a muscle. She had glitter strips on her hair and brushed onto her eyelids all the way to her cheek bones.
She was a rainbow come to life. Glee radiated off her in waves even as she hung decorations and pushed tables out of the way, while a Seventh Year begged her to move the party to Friday because he needed to revise.
"Celebrating any other day than the actual date brings bad luck," she told him, hooking a cluster of balloons to the wall. "You don't want me to have bad luck on my seventeenth birthday, do you? That's no way to start adulthood."
The boy could find no further argument but a resigned sigh that he was going to the library.
The party started right before dinner—it was less a party and more a gathering of Mary's closest friends. She wasn't one for crowds, for all she loved to dance and scream out lyrics. There were at most thirteen or fourteen of us, and we took complete ownership of the left corner of the Common Room, with enough snacks and contraband alcohol to feed a small army and then some. We had glitter everywhere, sequins and teeny tiny mirrors that would make the smallest flame bounce and dance. ABBA, Bee Gees, Eleanor and the Elves, and pretty much every other record we had found that Mary would enjoy played as loud as it could go. Mary had asked for a night full of dancing and cake. So she would get a night full of dancing and cake.
"Whoah—" Freyr came to a halt in front of me and Dorcas. She carried on sorting empty cups into pyramids, but I straightened, arms crossed. "I think you left part of your shirt upstairs."
He eyed me up and down. His frown tightened.
"Or maybe your shirt altogether. Did you lose a fight with a pair of scissors?"
Dorcas scoffed. Though she shot Freyr a tumultuous look, she still sneaked away, likely in the hopes that my brother's opinionated gaze would not stray to the minute length of her sparkly dress.
"Mary wanted disco." I shrugged. "I'm giving her disco."
"Disco looks awfully cold," he said. "It's October."
"Barely!"
I'd never admit it, but I was a little chilly. Just nippy, really. Though long enough to hide my towering platforms, the shimmering fabric of my flared trousers didn't really offer much insulation. Not to mention the tiny crop top to match that I'd borrowed from Mary and was pretty sure it was a repurposed and glittered up brassiere. I hoped the fireplace would light up soon.
"Merry—" he huffed, exasperated.
"Come on, Dad." Addie walked past, grabbing a fistful of our brother's cloak. "Let Merry have some fun. Cold and shiny fun." She hauled Freyr away, ignoring his protests. "You look great, by the way!"
I laughed. "Thanks, Addie!"
"Don't let Mum see you." My sister waved a hand over her shoulder. "And don't embarrass yourself!"
The two disappeared down the portrait hole. Lily placed a tall cake—decorated with peaked buttercream in pastel colours, and tiny painted chocolate mushrooms so the cake looked like a small garden—beside the other two already on the table. She glanced toward the door with a curious brow.
"Since when does your brother care what you wear?"
Since, I suspected, he'd finally done the math and realised how long five years really were. He could promise to come for all the big occasions, like my wedding, or Cressida's Hogwarts graduation, but sometime between that first conversation and yesterday, Freyr had stumbled onto the uncomfortable realisation that it was those small moments, the random Wednesdays, and spontaneous evenings that counted most. And he would miss many of those.
I'd been posing for him again—convinced that Koschei could tell my hair was changing colour and found it annoying—when Freyr stopped with his brush hovering in the air and his mouth tight. His chin was creased.
"See? He keeps squinting—what?" I had asked.
"Nothing." He'd cleared his throat, made a controlled swipe on the canvas. "Merry—you're alright… right?"
Out of all the things I'd expected, that wasn't it. "Right."
"You're sleeping?"
Not as well as I should or wished but… "Yes."
Freyr had nodded. His mouth had screwed to one side, then the other. He'd stared at the canvas like there was nothing else in the room.
"Do you want me to talk to them?"
Them being James and the rest, no doubt. Though he'd found it funny, Freyr had wasted little time to tell me that if I wanted them dealt with, he'd give me a hand. I'd refused but still… I was certain he understood why I'd been hurt by the prank, why it felt like another betrayal.
I didn't want my brother to come to the rescue. Didn't want him involved in any of my drama. So I had shifted Koschei on my shoulders and declined, before carefully manoeuvring the conversation to my one-to-one with Headmaster Dumbledore.
Freyr had always been our biggest cheerleader—be it the sigils my sister carved on crystals, or Cressida's woodwork or my music—so his face had lit up with excitement at the news. Delighted as he'd been that my research may be published, he'd grown quiet afterwards.
Today, he had spent lunch sat with Cressida at the Ravenclaw table.
"He likes to take the role of older brother seriously on the rare occasion," I told Lily with a shrug. Freyr had still not shared his news with anyone but me and Addie, and I would not be the one who let it slip. "Be glad you don't have to deal with one."
Or he would have had something to say about Lily's own dress. She'd worn a pretty crochet one that, despite having a tighter knit in precise places, had a loser one in most others. Its maroon shade brought her skin some more colour. James had taken one look and hadn't been able to look away.
"Do you think he'll like it?" she asked, knowing exactly why I said what I said.
Of course, she wasn't talking about James. In fact, when she'd said days ago that she would not talk to my cousin again, she had meant it. They had not shared a conversation since, and not for lack of trying on James's part. No, Lily was smoothing her dress and fluffing her hair for Derek Joy—a Hufflepuff that had sat with Mary in Astrology for years now, laying the foundation for an unlikely friendship. Derek was shy and quiet, Mary was outspoken. Derek was decisive, Mary went with the flow. They evened each other out.
Lily had been harbouring a little crush since school had started back up and Derek had come back from summer taller, leaner, and with better hair. Also, I think she liked that he was the opposite of James.
"He won't know what hit him." I assured.
The moment Derek had warily ducked through the portrait hole, Lily caught his eye. He stumbled through a greeting turned compliment and they retired to a spot by the snacks, all aflutter with giggles and covert looks between conversation.
I watched them with an amused smile. If it worked out, the two would have very blonde or very ginger children.
James was disgruntled. His mood only seemed to worsen whenever Lily's hair shifted from one colour to the next.
"Hey, Jamie!" I called, a drink held up in offer. "Is this a party or not?"
Mary, curls a mixture of amber and teal, waved at him. "I would like to dance, please!"
Her request was granted immediately. James plucked the drink from my hand, lifting it to his mouth on his way to the turntable, where Peter fiddled with an old radio and Sirius browsed the mountain of records we'd found with his face scrunched into a resigned pout. Before long, music began to flow through the room.
My baby moves at midnight.
Goes right on 'til the dawn, yeah.
My woman takes me higher.
My woman keeps me warm.
Someone had smuggled fae-dust and Twinkle into the school. We passed the little pouch with the shimmery powder around, sprinkled it on hands and lined it on table edges until it ran out and then opened another one. The elixir we dropped into bevvies two to three drops at a time, drained the glass and waited for the world to start shining.
Up above my head,
I hear music in the air.
That makes me know
There's a party somewhere.
Derek and Lily tumbled into an armchair by the window, limbs so interlocked it was difficult to tell them apart, mouths drawn to lips and skin, hands forgetting the cups they held and letting them go in search of more stimulating pursuits. Lily's long straight hair was vermillion.
You don't have to go.
You just wanna see me go through changes, oh, don't you, baby.
'Cos you bring out what's deep in me
'til my body flows with energy.
Now well well
my mind gets so weak
you make me pout just like a child, oh, don't you, baby.
Sprawled in a circle on the floor with cards and a bottle of firewhiskey, the boys started a drinking game I had no way of understanding. It was an overcomplicated inside joke, I guessed, since Dorcas and Mary appeared as equally lost. Marlene busied herself by draping over the chair seat right behind Sirius and peering over his shoulder while she played with the ends of his hair. I got another drink.
I've been cheated by you since I don't know when.
So I made up my mind, it must come to an end.
Look at me now, will I ever learn?
I don't know how, but I suddenly lose control.
There's a fire within my soul.
In a flurry of squeals and laughter, Mary somehow swayed Dorcas onto the coffee table. She flung her arms in the air, pulling faces at Dorcas as the two began to dance.
Yes, I've been broken-hearted,
Blue since the day we parted.
Why, why did I ever let you go?
Mamma mia, now I really know.
My, my, I could never let you go.
It took little convincing for Marlene to join them, her attention straying from Sirius and his hair for the first time. She pushed her way between Dorcas and Mary, her face stretched wide by a smile. Lily, too, unlocked her mouth from Derek's long enough to notice she was being beaconed. The table wasn't very tall, but they turned it into their own little stage, dancing and singing like it was their last chance. The four of them made up a beautiful constellation of technicolour and belted song lyrics.
Mamma mia, here I go again!
My, my, how can I resist you?
"Meredith!" Lily waved. Her hair fanned behind her in a rainbow stream. "Meredith, come join!"
Mamma mia, does it show again!
My, my, just how much I've missed you?
"Mamma mia, does it—MER!" Dorcas laughed through the words. "It's our song!"
Through a repeated chorus of it's our song, Mer! from Mary and Lily, I relented with a laugh, jumping onto the table and throwing my arms around Dorcas and Lily in a dancing hug.
"YES, I'VE BEEN BROKEN HEARTED." The three of us sang as we swayed and twirled. "BLUE SINCE THE DAY WE PAR-TED!"
"WHY, WHY DID I EVER LET YOU GO?"
Mary and Marlene joined our strange group hug full of swaying and singing and dancing that was more bouncing than actual dancing. We stayed on the table for the rest of the song, then begged James to start it again. Laughter stole our breath and pinched our cheeks. The Common Room shimmered around the edges, and I could not have said whether it was the drugs, the whiskey or the happiness of it all.
Yes, I've been broken-hearted,
Blue since the day we parted.
Why, why did I ever let you go?
Mamma mia, even if I say,
Bye-bye, leave me now or never.
Mamma mia, it's a game we play;
Bye-bye doesn't mean forever.
Mamma mia, here I go again!
My, my, how can I resist you?
Mamma mia, does it show again?
My, my, just how much I've missed you?
Stepping out of the common room was a shock to the system.
My ears hurt from the silence. Everything swayed and glistened. The corridor was a long line of darkness and pockets of sepia. Each stream of light glowed like a firework burst, while the shadows glittered like small constellations. Wails from the wind danced through the windows and dragged the odd leaf with it like some macabre opera. Perhaps that last drop of Twinkle had been one too many.
I rubbed my arms, cast a quick warming charm, and hurried to the stairs. If only Lily had noticed we'd forgotten the sparklers earlier…
I turned left, the staircase was just ahead. Footsteps echoed behind me, maybe on the corridor I'd just cleared. The high-pitched whine of a door ahead tightened my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck stood.
Nope, absolutely not. I'd learned my lesson about wandering the castle alone when every bone in my body screamed not to. I was going back and dragging Jamie with me…
A hand wrapped around my elbow and pulled me into a room to the right. My stomach swooped. I flung my hand out without thinking, palm connecting against a forehead and mussing silky hair.
A yelp, a curse, and suddenly there was soft light in the darkness. Sirius released me so fast I swayed. He leant with one forearm against the shelves, fingers rubbing at the spot I hit.
"Bloody hell, Mer." He scowled. "I only want to talk."
I was so relieved he wasn't Rosier, or worse Regulus again, I half-collapsed into the small table behind me, one hand pressed to my calming heart.
The room we were in was less a room and more a storage closet. Tall shelves lined two of the walls, rough-hewn stone and bent metal. On my side of the closet, flush against the wall, sat a table, halving the available space, and littered with plant pots, thick-bristled brushes, and a soot-covered cloth I nudged away with the tip of my fingers.
Sirius was nestled in what little space remained between the door and the shelves. He'd dropped his hand from his face—a small red mark bloomed—but he kept his forearm braced against the shelf. He'd wrangled his hair up into a bun; it was falling apart, long strands caressing his neck and tumbling onto his face. He needed to trim it a bit. He needed a shave.
He needed to stop looking at me like that, too, half kicked-puppy, half wolf in the night.
The cupboard was too small. Sirius took up too much space. His feet framed mine, and no matter how I pressed myself to the table at my back, he remained close. His words came back to me; I felt myself pale.
"You're doing this now?" I demanded. "Now?"
He'd stopped trying to talk to me. I'd been careful not to find myself accidentally alone with him. We had returned to our curated limbo where we coexisted without having to interact. I wished he didn't insist on changing that.
"I have to!" He dragged the words so have split in two. He swayed in place. "I've tried everything else and nothing works, you never get it. And I should have known, because I don't do words but you do, so—"
I sneered. "You're high."
So was I, of course. Forming each thought was like wading through fudge. Sirius's outline was aglow, as if he were a fairy, the edges of him blurring in slow motion. I'd always been able to carry my drugs better than I did alcohol. Sirius was the opposite. I could use that to my advantage.
"It doesn't matter." He shook his head in quick bursts. More hair escaped from the bun. I fought an inappropriate giggle, confused of its origins. "Starlight, listen—"
"No, I'm not doing this." All humour vanished with those two words from him. "I told you what I think already. There's nothing left to say."
I crossed my arms. It took two tries. I couldn't tuck my hand beneath my elbow without the bangle I'd worn digging into the small bones of my wrist. Sirius pushed off the shelf. He wiggled the bracelet out of the way before both of us realised the gesture made no sense. We froze. His breath tickled my forehead. I could see his heartbeat, a mad thrum at his neck, his shallow breathing. He smelled like cinnamon. Still, even after all this time, he smelled the same. My heart begun to race.
Sirius released my arm very carefully, like he had found himself handling a dragon without the appropriate safety precautions. He returned to his spot by the wall. The world sharpened, as if that small interaction was enough to burn the drugs and alcohol flowing through my veins. I could leave, I realised; he wasn't exactly barring the door. This was not a conversation I wanted to be part of.
I stayed put. We stared at each other.
"I don't believe you," he said at last. "I think—I think you want to fix this as much as I do."
"No, I don't." I refused. "I… I hate you."
I expected him to snap at me. The words were a clear bait. Having a real conversation with Sirius after so long terrified me. I hadn't the slightest clue how to do it. I wanted to fight with him—it was better than the cold shoulder, preferable to something real.
Sirius didn't flinch, or glower, or snap, though. He just leaned back against the shelves and peered at me through lids at half-mast.
"Amber doesn't mean hate," he said, quiet. His gaze wandered to the hair tumbling over my shoulder. "Neither does chocolate brown, or… or pink."
He swallowed. At his sides, his hands flexed before he tucked them behind him and away from sight.
No, those colours didn't mean hate, I'd gathered that much. While the boys had refused to at the very least hand us a copy of the key, it wasn't difficult to figure out which colours represented what. Some were tricky, especially when it was different shades of the same colour, but others were simple.
Amber, as far as I could tell, meant happiness, delight. Brown was one of those that could have different meanings depending on the shade, with a coffee black landing somewhere along the lines of resentment, but the one Sirius was accusing me of… well, I wasn't certain, but I was pretty sure it meant comfort, safety.
Pink had been difficult to figure out, mostly because it changed so much and yielded countless hues. It showed up often with varying degrees of brightness and undertones. It wasn't until tonight when I saw James's face fall while Lily spoke to Derek that I understood: pink meant affection. Of any and every kind.
"That's unfair." I protested.
My arms wound around me, one across my waist and the other about my chest. Easy for him to shove me in a cupboard and strip me bare. He had the advantage of knowing exactly what I was feeling as soon as I did. He could hide.
Sirius shook his head, slower than last time.
"'S not that. I've wanted t'do this for so long but something always got in the way." I narrowed my eyes at him, disliking the accusation. "I could never get you alone, or you boyfriend was 'round, and you were barely at the Potter's, and then we had that fight and I didn't say things the way I should have and you got mad, so I got mad—and—"
I scoffed. Of course, everything was my fault. I held very little interest for his slurred rambling.
"Wait, wait!"
Sirius scrambled for the door, unsteady, but managed to push it close before I could slip out. I ripped his hand from my shoulder, hard, unrepentant of the scratches on his wrist my nails left behind. He lifted his hands up.
In the dim light shadowing this broom cupboard, I noticed my hair had turned a blue so dark it looked black.
"I won't touch you again." Sirius promised, face pinched. "You don't have to say anything, I'm just asking you to listen. Please?"
I stared at him. Even as I pretended to consider the request, I knew the truth.
"You only have five minutes," I told him.
A lie. Thankfully, their little potion didn't have a colour for dishonesty. It would only lend him more confidence.
"I…" Sirius floundered. "You…"
He squinted, mouth pursed tight and eyebrows wavering. I couldn't tell if it was that he didn't know what to say or if he simply couldn't figure it out. His pupils were blown wide from too much fae-dust. I remembered how fast his heart had beat.
I squashed down the worry, edged towards the door. "Your time is ticking."
My fingers brushed the doorknob. It spiralled him into panic.
"Wait. You were my friend, and you were the only girl I'd ever actually—cared about, like proper fancied, y'know? Not just think you were fit."
The words escaped him in a whoosh, tumbling out of his mouth one after the other without an ounce of grace.
"Charming."
"No. Just—fuck me, Mer!" He ran a palm across his jaw. Selfishly, I relished I wasn't the only one unsteady. "I mean you'd look at me like I was the only thing you wanted and you gave me everything and I wasn't going to measure up."
Unbelievable.
Anger was better than pain, so I fed that spark and ignored the other.
"You put me on a pedestal, that was your mistake, not mine. Don't expect me to apologize for your impossible expectations." Sirius opened his mouth to protest, I barrelled on before he could, "And if you didn't want it, you should have just told me. I would have preferred brutal honesty to honeyed lies."
"Hey, I meant it!" He barked, pointing at his chest with unsteady hands. "I kissed you and I touched you and I said those things because I meant them, alright? I wasn't lying. Things with my family got… worse, I was lost and felt—"
The admission cost him. He didn't need to finish the thought; I remembered it well. Scared, he had felt scared, torn, and lonelier than he ever had before. My resolve wavered. Sirius swallowed. When he spoke again, his voice was unsteady.
"I was shitting bricks worried I would ruin the one good thing in my life but maybe it'd be alright because you were with me."
I looked away, focusing on the whorls in the door rather than the emotion in his eyes. I couldn't, not when I knew exactly what he was going to say next.
"But then you—you slit your own fucking wrists and left me to find you. Meredith. Do you have any idea what that did to me?" He gave a sharp inhale. I flinched. It was jarring, hearing it said aloud. No one ever did. "I hadn't a clue what to do. I couldn't Floo anyone, and I couldn't move without risking you would bleed to death. If your aunt hadn't come in from work early…"
I wouldn't be here.
I had been meticulous, as I was with every other aspect of my life. The knife had been taken from my mother's study: a beautifully ornamented piece that had been found in some archaeological site on the Isle of Man. She had been entrusted to assess it before it could be moved to the Museum of Wizarding History. The blade had held layer upon layer of curses. Mother had worked on it tirelessly; when I slipped it from her desk all spellwork had been removed save for one final hex to encourage bleeding. Sirius had bought me time; my aunt had still struggled to staunch the wound I'd carved elbow to wrist on both my arms. The scars would never leave, could only be glamoured like my tattoos when I didn't want them on display.
"I have never been so afraid in my entire life." He breathed, almost like the words where to himself. "So yeah, Meredith, I ran like a coward."
It grew difficult to hold his gaze, not with that familiar tingle in my nose, the pressure behind my eyes, but I couldn't look away from the rawness of his face.
"And then I got angry at myself for not seeing it coming and at you for not telling me—not giving me one fucking clue. You are always there for me and you never let me repay the favour. You didn't even say goodbye." His voice cracked. My vision began to swim. "I shouldn't have shut you out but by the time I realised what a fucking cunt I was being the damage was done and I thought it was simpler to just keep the distance."
Over the hard beating of my heart, my mind screamed that it was a pale excuse. Simpler to keep the distance, was it, really? I couldn't buy it.
"You still left me." My voice was hoarse, the best I could manage through the knot in my throat. "I was scared, and you left me."
It was a terrifying thing, trying to die and not managing it. It left one as naked as the day one was born, except with the embarrassing understanding of what nakedness meant. Perhaps even worse. The contempt had been unexpected. The cold memory of near death, haunting. The worse of it was the shame. It struck me at times, so strong I could scarcely meet the eye of those few who knew the truth of why I'd been absent during Christmas Eve and Day last year.
"You left me first." He breathed.
"What I did had nothing to do with you." I snapped through gritted teeth. "Nothing."
It'd been a stupid, desperate decision born of horrible nightmares I was convinced would come true. A part of me worried to this day they would come true, no matter how Father assured me we were safe, that clairvoyance wasn't really a thing, more a sentimental placation. I understood my magic well enough to know that despite what Daddy believed, clairvoyance did have a certain reach. I knew well what I'd seen, all the variants, the possibilities. Mum, Daddy, Freyr, and Addie—all gone, dead, because of me. The way changed each time, but the reason always remained. I never found out, couldn't find the answer no matter how deep I searched, whether the nightmares had been nightmares, or vague possibilities of an uncertain future, or unshifting certainties. It had seemed such an easy fix, one life in exchange for four. Five, if one counted how shaken Cressida would be if they were all gone. Simple. Easy.
Stupid, and shameful.
"It still hurt. I was so mad—" Sirius let out a growl of frustration, yanking a hand through his hair. "Fuck it, you know what? I am mad. I can't breathe for you, or… or keep you here—"
"I never asked you to!" I protested.
"That's exactly my point!" He threw his hands up. "You scare the shit out of me, Meredith, don't you see?"
He looked at me, hands raised in front of him, half offered toward me. I wanted to twist my fingers with his. Yearned for him to break his promise not to touch me. The look in his eyes was broken and desperate, an entreaty I knew not how to heed or answer. Tears, cold and bitter, slipped past my lashes. His features wobbled, fractured.
"So maybe I am a coward," he said to my hands twined tight in front of me. "I expect nothing from you—I just want you to know that I am sorry. For last Christmas, and for what I said this summer. It came out all wrong."
It had come out all wrong, perhaps, but he'd meant something along the same lines.
I could not ignore the pain any longer. It lashed across my chest, constricted my heart until I could not breathe, slumped against the wobbly table and fighting back a sob.
"You know, after, I didn't want a boyfriend. I just wanted my friend." My teeth sunk onto my bottom lip. Sirius looked stricken, as if the words had been a physical blow. "All I wanted was my friend. And he hated me."
He swallowed. "I don't hate you, Starlight, I never could."
"It felt like you did!" I wept. "You call me selfish? Fine, but what are you?"
"I didn't mean that, not really." Sirius shook his head. "I… I'll make it up to you, Meredith. I…"
He faltered. I wondered, past the tears and the caught breath, what my face looked like. What he had seen to surrender, slumped against a crooked shelf.
The silence was stifling. Tension stretched in the space between us like a rubber band pulled too tight, frayed and threatening to snap. Silent tears slipped past my eyelashes, cold against the heat of my cheeks. I didn't bother wiping them away, they were coming too fast and refusing to stop. Sirius cleared his throat. He rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand.
He was crying, too, I realised, giving tiny sniffles and clenching his jaw. The sound turned my stomach, brought fresh tears to my eyes.
"I don't know what…" I started, unsure, and never finished the sentence. I didn't wish to lie, but I couldn't work out what was the truth either. "I was mean to you, I shouldn't have brought up your family."
Sirius stared at me with wide eyes rimmed with red. "That's alright."
"As for your apology…" I swallowed. "You're about ten months too late."
Sirius said nothing. I didn't dare look away from my ruined nail polish, from the cuticles I'd rendered bloody. I couldn't move, either.
It was pathetic, the two of us huddled in a broom closet, pressed against either wall in search of distance and crying over each other, while trying our hardest not to make it obvious. My throat hurt with anger. Pain twisted in my chest.
I was debating whether I wanted to hug him or throttle him, when Sirius pushed off the cabinet. I gasped, fearful and hopeful all at once. He wrenched the door open and left before I could catch even a glimpse of his face.
"And there was juice everywhere—I mean, everywhere, and Neville was just standing there!" Raucous laughter amongst cried protests. "And Harry—Harry goes, 'need a hand there, Nev?' like the poor blighter wasn't—"
The air is charged with magic, heavy and dark. Dangerous. It seeps into their surroundings; the skies open, thunder booms afar, the sea revolts against such maliciousness. Flashes come and go, accurate as an arrow, deadly as a snake. The two lines stand, obedient and eager soldiers, facing each other, one cloaked in white, the other masked. It matters little, their chosen symbol—nothing is off limits, not now, not when both sides are as desperate to win. There is no good or evil, only war, and what they're willing to overlook for the greater good.
"She's pregnant!" James bursts into the living room, sending the front door bouncing on its hinges, hazel eyes wide and bright. "I'm going to be a father! Ha!"
"Congratulations, mate." Sirius, freshly showered and wearing pyjamas, pads across the room with socked feet. He pats James's shoulder, shoves his glass of firewhiskey into his chest, and winks. "Daddy Prongs."
James's smile fades, quickly replaced with utter dread. He runs a hand down his face, glasses askew, and downs the firewhiskey in one single gulp. He melts into the closest armchair.
"Blimey, a baby." He breathes. His features turn a little green. "A baby's gonna have me as a father."
"Merlin save that child." A voice nears, familiar as a mirror's reflection. Sirius laughs even as the scene fades away like smoke.
A well-structured cream-coloured building somewhere in the middle of London. Muggle London. The building stands proud, yet cold, almost detached with its close together square windows, and succinct signage. Each section of the building is well-defined, tiered, so it looks like many towers and houses huddle together. Metallic shutters hide some windows, others have sheer white curtains. A small park to the side full of benches, manicured trails, and trees hide beneath its shadow.
It's a tranquil scene, save for the many muggles bustling about, the clamour around one of the entrances, titled in large green letters: ACCIDENTS AND EMERGENCIES. Cars buzz by, adding to the noise pollution and spewing black smoke. Children cry. Long white cars with a red stripe running across them speed and veer into the side of the building, letting out long wails as they near.
There's the sudden crack of lighting and thunder. The out of place trembling of the earth. The building implodes, caving into itself with an eruption of debris, blue flame, and black smoke. A neon green skull hovers above where the muggle hospital used to stand. It opens its mouth like a great maw; a snake slithers out.
My eyes slid open. I hadn't cried out or screamed, so no one peered between the drawn curtains of my bed. The dreams remained this time, almost a tangible thing in the back of my mind I could clutch with weak fingers, rummage through them one by one like the photographs Lily loved to take.
Despite my relative calm, my heart beat a mile, and cold nestle between my ribs. I pulled the red duvet to my chin, huddled underneath the covers with my hands pressed between the crease of my knees until they felt a little less like ice cubes and my heart slowed enough that I could hear again.
I'd gone to bed right after the cake was cut sometime after midnight, claiming to be too intoxicated to continue. While I had indulged perhaps a smidge too much, it had been the conversation in that broom closet that had hounded me to bed, hopeful it'd be forgotten by morning. I hadn't a clue how long I'd slept for, but the party had either died out or had dwindled to almost nothing, because all I could hear were Dorcas' soft breaths, and the hushed conversation my roommates were having, huddled in the bed to my other side.
"—about it all summer and now it's happened not share." Mary pleaded. Her voice was a string waving in the wind, distant and undulating. "Give us actual details."
"Never!" Marlene, giggling. She gave a squeal and was promptly shushed. "I can't believe he's mine. Finally."
I recognised the tight, ambivalent hum that thrummed through the air as Lily's.
"I'm happy for you—" she sounded tentative at best. She kept talking, her voice a whisper so I could only catch a couple of words, "You have… tell… quite lucky… didn't…"
"Luck had nothing to do with it." Marlene snorted and, again, she was shushed. She lowered her voice, but she was closest of all of them, and I heard her as clear as if she were talking to me. "It was all hard work, strategy. How else would I bag—"
I rolled over, twisting my wrist and whispering a quick silencio. Immediately, the conversation vanished. While mildly entertaining, Marlene's volume was worsening the headache drilling behind my eyes.
Sleep evaded me the rest of the night. Usually, I would have sneaked out of the dorms, gone downstairs, or to the kitchens for a snack, or maybe taken the long climb to the music room, but each time I cautiously dropped the silencing spell, I heard Marlene and Mary giggling. I did not wish to encounter them.
By the time seven-thirty arrived, my eyes burned with fatigue, and my headache had grown into a migraine.
Breakfast saw our friend group halved. Those of us who turned up, spoke barely a word beyond greetings, and the silence continued as Lily, Remus, Dorcas, and I dragged our feet towards the dungeons for Potions.
Peter ran in just as Professor Slughorn went to close the door, but there remained no sign of James, Sirius, or Marlene. I had no clue if Mary had woken up in time to attend Muggle Studies, or if she and Marlene had decided to skive off the whole day. James had drunk enough alcohol to forget the sight of Derek's hand on Lily's bum, so really, I would be impressed if he even made it to lunch.
"Since today is our last lesson before half-term," Professor Slughorn was saying. I stared at the empty stool next to me. Had Sirius not shown because of the drugs and the alcohol? Or because Potions meant he had to work with me? "I bet none of you want to do any real work. So, instead, we'll do a more theoretical lesson. T and T, as I like to say."
Those far enough in the back groaned in protest. Remus grimaced, and Dorcas's hair betrayed her boredom, as did mine, I imagined.
T and T stood for Tell and Test. It happened once or twice a term, where we would get a short introduction to the potions we would study the rest of the term, with the chance to observe the potion brewed correctly so we could keep an eye out for any mistakes when it was time to brew it. Professor Flitwick liked to do something similar. Unlike Professor Flitwick, Professor Slughorn's T and Ts were long, deviated from the topic, and were so draining it made an hour and a half feel like five. We called them Slughorn's Tears and Tribulations.
I stared at the clock the entire time, tuning out Slughorn's happy voice, and watching the minute hand snail trail around the dial while I wondered if I could sleep with my eyes open. My yawns were getting harder to hide when Remus tapped me on the shoulder.
"It's our turn to study the potions."
He pointed at the table by the supplies cabinet, where four lidded cauldrons sat under a stasis charm. Steam of different colours and patterns escaped between the lid and lip. The students sat on the two tables ahead of us were trailing back to their tables, laughing and teasing each other as they went.
Slughorn was perched on his desk, arms crossed, and mouth pulled into a self-amused smile. Students had taken advantage of his laid-back posture; idle chatter and light-hearted ribbing bounced around the room.
"Pineapple?" Nemesia giggled, tapping her chin with her index finger. "Curiouser, and curiouser, Fawley."
"No!" Cornelia Fawley gasped, rushing after Nemesia toward their table. Lily and I had to scramble out of the way. "Did I say pineapple? I meant…"
Their conversation faded as we reached the table. The first cauldron held a blood replenishing potion, the second, Felix Felicis. The third cauldron was filled to the brim with Polyjuice, its colour a muddy brown that threatened to spray each time it bubbled, but it was the fourth and last cauldron that incited all the teasing and laughter: Amortentia, the strongest love potion in the world.
Dorcas lifted the lid for the amortentia once we'd half-heartedly peered into the other three cauldrons. Its mother of pearl colour almost glowed in the low candlelight. Its spiralled steam, too, appeared to have a distinct sheen, like even it was meant to allure.
"Huh." Dorcas hummed, leant over the potion so that her hair hung dangerously close to it. The strands were teal, but lightened to a light red the longer she hovered. "That's unexpected. Maybe I should consider dating outside of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."
Remus leaned over me, his chest brushing my shoulders, as he tried to peer at the potion without getting too close. His tentative sniff ended in a sneeze he hurried to cover with an elbow.
"Hufflepuff are great," he commented. His voice sounded nasal. "They always have chocolate in their common room. And cookies. It's lovely."
"So…?" Dorcas wiggled her eyebrows. She stepped aside so I could step up to the potion. Her smirk was as sharp as a blade. "Do you smell my jasmine shampoo? I knew you always secretly loved me, Mer."
I laughed.
"No luck." I waved my fingers at Remus with a bat of my eyebrows, went on tiptoe. "But maybe I smell Rem's lemongrass—"
I stopped so suddenly I almost choked. Wide-eyed, I stared at the potion's less-than-innocent iridescence with almost betrayal chilling my blood.
This was a complex potion. The more I hovered over the cauldron, the more scents tickled my nose, like the petals of a flower unfurling to reveal more colours beneath. Broom polish and orange peel were definitely Fabian. Even the fresh scent of forest could belong to him, who liked to go camping every chance he got, or any of the many boys I'd found attractive in school—we all spent the better part of a year in the forested mountains.
It was the other scents, slipping through the cracks and overpowering all the others, burrowing up my nose to a permanent nest in my mind, that gave me pause.
The elusive scent of sunlight. Alluring cinnamon. And the comfort of sage.
I inhaled so deep I could almost taste the steam. All the other scents faded away until only this familiar combination remained.
It was rolling down the small hills at the races, and splashing sea water in the shores of Plage du Prophète. It was long late-night conversations steeped in giggles, laced fingers before the gesture had weight, the promise that we would always belong so long as the other was around. It was disagreements and taking each other's sides anyway. Fear of darkness, and tattoo ink, and my first pair of chunky leather boots. Starlight and her Lionheart.
It was all Sirius Orion Black.
END OF PART I
CRUEL SUMMER.
"Tellin' myself it's the last time.
Can you spare any mercy that you might find
If I'm down on my knees again?
Deep down, way down, Lord, I try
Try to follow your light, but it's night time.
Please, don't leave me in the end.
There's darkness in the distance.
I'm beggin' for forgiveness,
But I know I might resist it.
Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time.
You and I drink the poison from the same vine.
Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time.
Hidin' all of our sins from the daylight."
—Daylight. David Kushner.