Chapter 4: In Theory
Thump. Ariadne dropped a stack of thick, battered volumes on the table in front of Sirius, who was sprawled out on a squishy couch in the Common Room. He looked surprised, and then amused.
"What's all this, Morrigan?" he drawled.
"Reading material," answered Ariade crisply, now organizing the books based on topic.
Sirius watched her for a moment and then made to get up. "Excellent, I'll leave you to it then. Let me know when you need help writing up the essay."
Ariadne shot him such a deadly look that Sirius actually sat back down.
"These are for you, Transfiguration prodigy. I've read them all already."
"What an incredible waste of your time," murmured Sirius.
"Excuse me?"
Sirius sighed and spread his legs even wider over the couch, if that were possible. "Transfiguration Theory is a waste of time. It's a bunch of abstract rubbish. All that matters is, can you do the spell, or not?"
Ariadne rolled her eyes. "And how are you supposed to properly execute a spell if you don't understand how it works? Transfiguration is a science, not a game of Quidditch."
"The science doesn't matter if you can execute the spell. And by the way, Quidditch has theory and tactics, too, love."
Point taken, thought Ariadne. "Understanding the theory can help you execute better and more consistently. And it applies to other spells and branches of magic. Also, I'm not your love."
Ignoring her last comment, as usual, Sirius answered with a smirk, "Then how have I gotten top marks in Transfiguration since second year without reading a single book about theory?"
Ariadne leaned in, resting her hands on the table. "One, you don't have the top marks in our year in Transfiguration. I do. Two, you do need theory, because your conjuring needs work, and you know it. You consistently underestimate the difficulty of conjuring complex items because you don't understand how the formulas for complexity are weighted. So start reading," Ariadne patted the stack of books, "and let me know when you have a better grasp of the 'abstract rubbish.'"
Sirius actually looked dumbfounded for half a second. He opened his mouth to respond, probably to her critique of his conjuring abilities, but seemed to think better of it. "Alright, Morrigan. I'll make you a deal."
Ariadne sighed in frustration. "What part of 'do the reading and don't talk to me until it's done' suggests that I'm going to strike a deal with you, Black?"
"The deal is," continued Sirius as if she hadn't spoken at all, "I'll read this rubbish theory"—he casually put his feet up on the stack of books, crossing his legs—"if you come to the Quidditch afterparty tomorrow night."
As a prefect, Quidditch match afterparties were the bane of Ariadne's existence. Technically, celebrations were permitted in the common room after a Quidditch victory (McGonagall certainly did not want to prevent anything that boosted House spirit and pride, in the hopes that it would motivate them to win more matches and, ultimately, the House cup) but the prefects were supposed to put a stop to any loud or unruly behavior. The problem was, Gryffindor parties tended to get very out of hand, very quickly. Especially now that James and Sirius were of age and had somehow discovered a way to smuggle mead, butterbeer and Firewhiskey into the castle. Ever since that development, Ariadne had dealt with staggering drunk third-years, noise complaints from Ravenclaws who could hear the music as far away as the library, and ill-advised hookups happening right on the communal armchairs of the Common Room. There were also usually one or two guys who completely forgot about the enchantments and attempted to drunkenly stumble up to the girls' dormitories, only to slide back down and arrive at the foot of the partiers in a crumpled, sloppy heap.
Not to mention that the parties made it virtually impossible for Ariadne to study, because the noise was so intense she couldn't concentrate in the dormitory, and she couldn't escape to the library because she was required to supervise the party to ensure that nobody got so badly messed up that they needed to be taken to the hospital wing. So far, she had a clean record, but she couldn't be sure how long it would last.
Sirius watched the internal struggle she couldn't suppress from playing out on her face with amusement. Ariadne hated the parties and actually participating in one would interfere with her ability to monitor it. On the other hand, she needed Sirius to do this theoretical reading if they were going to get top marks on the Transfiguration project.
"I'm not asking you to drop out of Hogwarts and become a Death Eater. It's a party, love."
Ariadne sighed in frustration. She should have known that working with Sirius Black wouldn't be that easy. "Fine. I'll show up to the seething cesspool of alcohol and hormones that you lot like to call a 'party.' If you finish at least volume one of Theorizing Transformation by tomorrow night."
"Consider it done."
Sirius had resumed his elegantly bored posture, legs crossed on the table and arms spread over the back of the couch. On top of the ridiculous pact she had just made, this just irritated Ariadne even more.