A/N: Hope you all enjoy... Sorry this took me a bit of time! I try to update every 2 weeks now but the holidays have tossed me up a bit. Otherwise, I urge anyone who likes this to COMMENT more than anything else. Nothing makes me update faster. ENJOY PLEASE and I hope you are as desperate to read the next chapter (after the ending of this one, as you shall see...) as I was to write it!

Yours, Alisson

Mid March, 1978

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"Aaaand Evan Rosier awards Gryffindor a penalty on grounds of cobbing Beater Black—and nice take by MacDonald—MacDonald passes to Cresswell—SCORE! Cresswell dodges Avery and scores Gryffindor ten points, making the score forty-ten, Gryffindor. Talkalot's heading for the Quaffle—NOPE! Gryffindor's Caius Killick's got it—Bludger heading for Killick but… SAVED! Black's sent it and confused Slytherin with a wise Bludger Backbeat—Talkalot's got it again—Talkalot, Rosier, and Abbott forming Hawkshead Attacking Formation—Score by Slytherin—but WAIT! Penalty awarded to Gryffindor on grounds of Haversacking… Dirty game, now—MacDonald's got it—Cresswell's got it—Killick's got it—SCORE! Fifty-ten, Gryffindor, thanks to Killick."

Blanche was rocking on her heels in nervousness and excitement beside Lily, who was chewing her fingernails down to scabby nubs. They were both dressed head-to-toe in scarlet and gold, and held up massive, hand-painted posters that read: 'Break the Snakes!'

"Abbott going in on Gryffindor Keeper William Rabnott—SCORE! Fifty-twenty, Gryffindor—but here comes Black, to knock Abbott off her course with that Bludger—and MacDonald's got it—SCORE! Sixty-twenty, Gryffindor—Black's hit heading toward Slytherin seeker, also a Black—Regulus Black is hit by the Bludger—but Cresswell's got it again—Very nice! Cresswell makes the score seventy-twenty, Gryffindor—Talkalot has the Quaffle—What's this? Seems Regulus has recovered from his Bludger hit and it following something…the Snitch?—Rabnott blocks Abbott's attack but Rosier's right back on him—Regulus Black is following something—Potter takes a leap and follows Regulus—Potter right on his tail—Rosier loses the Quaffle and Killick's got it—Killick passes to MacDonald—other Gryffindor Beater Broadmoor's sent the Bludger Regulus' way—Regulus dodges but is lagging—Potter's nearly got the Snitch… it's right there!—MacDonald back to Killick—Killick makes the goal! Eighty-twenty, Gryffindor!—Potter seems to be on it—What's this? James Potter nearly fallen from his broom…"

"What on Earth…?" Blanche heard Lily muttering beside her as they watched James hold onto his broom's shaft with one hand. They could nearly see James' mouth full of curses as he tried to loop his legs back around the broom.

"Would he lose his grip like that?" Blanche inquired curiously, looking at Lily.

"No. Never…" Lily shook her head. Just then she watched Sirius swoop in and extend a hand, allowing James to regain his position upon his broom. "Thank Merlin for Sirius," Lily muttered.

"James back on thanks to Black… That is Sirius Black—but Regulus is on something—Talkalot has the Quaffle, heading in on Rabnott—Snitch spotted! Inches from Regulus' hand—Potter hot on Regulus' trail—Rabnott blocks Talkalot's goal—Potter right on Regulus—again, Potter's lost his grip on his broom—Regulus Black has the Snitch!"

"Absolutely not," Blanche heard Lily argue to her side. "That wasn't him!"

"You're right," Blanche agreed, who had been looking through her omnioculars at the Slytherin spectators for the culprit. She'd found him just seconds before he finished the second Hurling Hex—Cyril Avery. "Someone hexed him."

"Slytherin wins one-seventy to eighty!"

"Who was it?" Lily asked as Blanche looked out at James and Sirius, who looked near lethal depression on the field.

"Cyril Avery just so happened to be muttering the Hurling Hex into his robe's collar," Blanche responded bitterly, looking at the chubby-cheeked criminal in the erupting Slytherin stands. "Thankfully, I've done enough concealed curses to know that that's exactly what they look like."

"No! We have to tell Madam Hooch!"

Blanche shook her head, watching as James flew across the field in an attempt to attack Rosier, but Sirius held him back. "That won't work. This game is how it is—it can't be changed now. But if that's how they want to play the game, then so be it."

The Gryffindor spectators were close to tears surrounding Blanche and Lily. They had been highest in points thus far, but this game had pushed Slytherin to the top spot. Blanche looked at McGonagall, whose frown was incised in her face deeper than ever before.

"What are we going to do?" Lily cried, burying her face in her hands. "James is going to take his own life if he doesn't win the Cup in his last year. You know how he is."

"Don't worry," Blanche shook her head, glowering at the Slytherin stands. "We'll fix this."

That night in the Gryffindor common room, James was a wreck. Sirius tended to be more restrained in terms of Quidditch fanaticism, but he seemed to share James' insanity that night.

"Someone needs a good cursing—I believe! Thinking they can get away with that RUBBISH—I don't think so. Absolutely not—over my dead Goddamned body!" Sirius cried.

"They're dirty cowards!" James kicked the air, scaring away a few Gryffindor Second Years. "I hate them all! They're all namby-pamby gits who can't win a Quidditch match the real way!"

"Settle down, James. You've just got to cream Ravenclaw in May, and you should be set. They're certainly not as skilled as Gryffindor," Lily tried to calm him down.

"They've Carol Cooper!" James argued.

Sirius cleared his throat, calmer than he was seconds before. "I might be able to do something about that…" He hinted sinisterly.

"How's that?" Lily asked.

"Let's just say… She's always wanted a bit of Sirius in her life," he grinned and Lily rolled her eyes.

"I say we hex Slytherin at the Hufflepuff-Slytherin match in April," James said decisively as Blanche entered the room through the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"No we won't," she shook her head, holding a massive book of hexes, jinxes, and 'light-hearted' curses which Sirius admiringly named 'the Holy Grail.' Blanche was a notorious prankster, and all of her greatest tricks were inscribed in this massive book she kept hidden away in a place even Sirius was unsure of. It was as sacred to the band of friends as the Marauder's Map was. "James, you just complained about Slytherin not being able to win a Quidditch match the 'real' way. We're going to get them back, but we won't sink to their level. I have a better idea anyway."

"I can see you've got something…" James looked longingly at the book. Blanche sat before the fire with her back to the flames and opened her book. Sirius tried to sit beside her and look at the pages, but she hit him every time he got close enough to see the words. "What is it you were planning on?"

"Just revealing their true nature," she grinned. "But I'll need access to the Slytherin common room. Can I have a password recruit?"

"Don't need one. I know it," Sirius smiled.

"How's that?" Blanche asked him.

"A magician never reveals his tricks."

"Fine then, you nitwit. As I'm the only one here who knows the curse, I'm going. Sirius knows the password, so he's coming, and I need back-up. James, you're not coming with because you'll be an obvious suspect. But we do need someone to distract Filch—Remus or Peter?" Blanche asked the other two boys who took over the entire couch—in spite of the fact that there were uncomfortable underclassmen who would have much appreciated a seat that wasn't on the floor.

"I'll do it," Lily announced. Blanche, Sirius, Peter, Remus, and James all looked at her with an odd eye.

"What? You?" Peter piped up, even though he usually stayed quiet during their discussions—now too afraid to say anything in front of Blanche (he had been hexed far too many times).

"Yes, me," Lily pursed her lips. "I'd like to participate."

"Lily, we're probably going to get detentions for this. Are you sure? You are Head Girl."

"James is Head Boy and he's participating."

"Yes, well," Sirius interjected. "No one really understands why that is. Seeing there's no reasoning behind his appointment, we assume he can get away with misbehaviour. You—on the other hand—actually earned your position, and can also jeopardise it."

Lily still shook her head adamantly. "I don't care. I can't let them do that to James and get away with it."

Proudly, James slung a long arm around Lily and pulled her toward him with a face-splitting smile. He placed a long kiss on her lips and pressed more upon her cheek and ear; Lily blushed ferociously whilst he did and giggled in a lover's pitch.

"Um," Blanche cleared her throat. "Before I vomit—"

"Really, Prongs. Keep it in your pants. Some of us here are more virginal than you," Sirius mocked Blanche's chastity. An angry bubble grew in her heart at his words, but she pushed it away.

"Anyway… Lily you'll have the map with you because we've the cloak. When you see us leaving the Slytherin common room, I need you to walk towards us. If anyone comes, send out a light and hide, then Sirius and I will get rid of them. When we meet, we'll walk you back under the cloak. Then I'll take the map and head to the Great Hall. Sirius, I need you to take care of Peeves using the cloak. Good?"

"No problem."

"In the Great Hall I'll finish the curse. I'll wait for you to come down, Sirius. Then we'll make it back up to the common room. Filch needs to be completed gone for this to work though—Lily, if you're going to need to slip him a Sleeping Draught."

"How on earth do I get a Sleeping Draught to Filch?" Lily laughed doubtfully.

"I've done it loads of times—it's nothing compared to what getting past Pringle was like. I've got taw scars on my palms from that git," she exposed her right palm and the firelight exposed faint stripes of scarring on both of her hands.

"Lucky you. I've got them on my arse," Sirius laughed.

"Really? I don't remember that particular form of punishment," she answered. "Reckon they're not allowed to do that to the girls."

"I'll show you some time," he grinned with a wink. James rolled his eyes at the unrelated tangent that Blanche and Sirius often fell into; he was too hungry with revenge to wait. Then again—he had just spent several minutes lathering Lily in kisses, but that was worth it.

"Anyway," Blanche said, noticing James' impatience. "I recommend offering it in a tray of milk for that wretched cat, Mrs. Butternicke. He tastes it before giving it to her."

"Really?" Lily gasped.

"Yes. One time Blanche and I gave her a bowl of kitty mix, and he tried it before giving it to her," Sirius laughed.

Sometimes Sirius swore Blanche was a sorceress. In the Slytherin common room, she'd placed her curse and nothing had happened, but she went on as though everything was working perfectly well. She disappeared to the Great Hall and Sirius met her there after getting Peeves in a fight with Violet from the antechamber about the Fat Lady's weight. Sirius got inside the Great Hall in short time and transported Blanche upstairs beneath the cloak after she finished the curse—which also did nothing to the Great Hall. She didn't provide any explanation, but all he knew was that in three day's time on a pale Monday morning of March, when all the Slytherins sat down at their table in the Great Hall with an inexplicable hunger, each one of them had transformed into a squealing pig in a too-small uniform.

McGonagall instantly knew the only student who could have pulled off such massive mischief, as well as the one who surely served as her second-in-command.

"Blanche Greengrass and Sirius Black!" McGonagall shouted through the waves of seizing laughter rolling over the three student tables remaining. They naturally knew what was coming, but were both privately thankful for the quick-witted professor's memory of Blanche's requested surname change. "Detention Chamber with Filch! Now."

With a bow, Sirius and Blanche left arm-in-arm from the Great Hall and laughed their way in the direction of the Detention Chamber. In the Passage of Fouls, they'd passed one lone Slytherin who'd missed the curse in the Great Hall—Severus Snape, who often skipped meals. Sirius instantly scowled at his hunched-over walk at the opposite end of the hall; he'd been more angry at him of late, as Severus had most recently been on a theory regarding Remus Lupin. Severus had announced to his housemates that he believed Remus to be a werewolf—this conclusion coming after extensive research. Of course Severus was right, but no one would ever let him know that. In fact, Sirius had been recently drafting ideas to how to get him back and glue his mouth shut.

"Snivellus," Sirius acknowledged him with his nickname. "Oh, Severus. Sorry."

"What do you want, Black?" Severus answered harshly.

"I'd heard about what you'd come up with about Remus being a… you know… a werewolf," Sirius lowered his voice in rumour. "And right when I heard you say it so many old suspicions came to mind. The disappearances upon the full moon, the preference for raw meat, the strange potions he'd take each night before sleeping… It was all so curious, I was sure there was something wrong. I once followed him out of the school and to the Whomping Willow… Oddly enough, he knew how to get the tree's branches to stop flying around. Anyway, I couldn't get deep into the Willow—I was too scared…"

"You can get into the Willow?" Severus asked with a straight face; regardless of the stiffness he wore, there seemed to be some intrigue in it.

"Yes. There is a way…" Sirius whispered.

"Black and Lestrange, into my office now!" Filch stepped out of the Detention Chamber upon hearing their voices in the hallway. Not so shockingly, the squib caretaker used Blanche's old last name, which sent a bitter scowl to her lips. "No side-talk!"

"Wait, I need to—" Severus pled for the rest.

"Later. But I need someone to solve this…" Sirius spoke as he feigned an expression of worry.

"Now! My Office!" Filch shouted. Mrs. Butternicke came crawling out behind him.

"It's not your office, actually," Blanche said as she released Sirius' arm and walked toward the Detention Chamber.

"Would you like to be in more trouble than you already are?" Filch asked her with a yellow grin.

"Not particularly. I was just trying to clarify matters," she shrugged and entered the chamber.

"Black! Now!" Filch barked as Sirius parted from Severus, who watched him achingly as he entered the chamber.

That Tuesday night, Sirius and Blanche were reorganising Filch's files without the use of magic—even though neither could imagine how magic would benefit the task. He'd left Mrs. Butternicke in charge of them, but Sirius had long ago cast upon her a mild sleeping charm.

Blanche threw a scarlet folder into the 'Repetitively Rambunctious' stack of folders. She adamantly believed the task was useless—sorting archived detentions and misbehaviour forms by the severity of the culprit. Once in a while she ran into herself, which she affectionately put in the 'Out of Hand' pile.

"Some of these are left over from Pringle, you know," Sirius commented as he looked through a file. "November twentieth 1939, Fourth Year Marcus Hornby uses Stickfast Hex on Myrtle Warren. Punishment is… twenty cane-strokes to the bare bottom."

"Moaning Myrtle?" Blanche confirmed.

"I assume so," he shrugged. "She always whines about Olive Hornby making fun of her… Looks like Olive had a relative who was just as harsh."

Blanche shuffled through the folders, looking for one in particular she believed would be there. After several minute of searching, she found it. "May first 1971, Second Year Sirius Black sneaks around school after hours three night in a row. Punishment is twenty taw-strokes to the bare bottom."

"There she is," Sirius grinned widely.

"How many of me have you found?" She inquired, looking over to his piles.

"About seven—so far," he remembered the offences and listed them on his hands. "Two out after hours, three hexes on students, and two insolent behaviour to professors. How many of me?"

"Five, not including Pringle's. Two insolent behaviours, another sneaking after hours, and two hexing students."

"Right," he nodded to himself, throwing a few folders into a faraway pile. Just then both he and Blanche heard a feminine giggle echo through the hallway. Sirius caught Constantine Carrow standing in the Passage of Fouls with her skirt pulled far above her knees. With the hand that wasn't gripping her skirt, she undid the buttons of her blouse slowly, revealing her mint green brassiere underneath.

"What was that?" Blanche asked, beginning to rise on her knees to look before Sirius pushed her down.

"Just someone. I told her I'd help her out with a curse on her ex-boyfriend. Can you cover me for… fifteen?" He asked, getting ready to leave and looking at his watch.

"Sure," she shrugged. Sirius pounced out into the hall and covered Constantine's mouth as he dragged her over to the nearest broom closet; he bent her over a few lean-to Nimbus 1000s and yanked down her undergarments for access. He didn't have much pride in shagging a Slytherin, but she had provided the common room password and she did beg for him.

Plus, she bore some resemblance to Blanche. Her hair was dark—not like the blue-black silk that ran from Blanche's head but more of a dull black-brown, and her skin was nearly as fair as Blanche's. Their faces were different, though. Blanche's face had the delicacy of a princess' and regality of a queen's—an angular, celestial nose; full, dark lips; wide eyes with long, coal black lashes; gently-arched, dark brows; heart-shaped face with high cheekbones; long, pale neck. On the other hand, Constantine was had a cute sensuality to her, but there was not much beauty in her snub nose, coarse hair, and small, dark eyes. And her body was a bit too knobby for him. Blanche was willowy, but there were curves at her breasts and her hips, and light muscles from her early years as a ballerina. Perhaps with Constantine turned around, he could imagine…

Blanche had gone through nearly forty files by the time Sirius had been gone for twenty-five minutes. She stood up angrily—wand in hand—and left the Detention Chamber. She emptied into the Passage of Fouls and wandered one way, not coming across anything off. When she wandered in the opposite direction, she came across a peculiarly loud broom closet. She pointed her wand to the doorknob, so as not to warn the closet's occupants of her entry.

"Annihilare."

The door opened speedily, revealing the broom closet's inhabitants. And there was Sirius, slamming into a bony Slytherin who always wore her skirt too high. She was in Fifth Year, Blanche believed, and had surely attended a couple of pureblood feasts and balls. She was a Carrow, Blanche remembered. If only her Daddy saw her now—snatch for the rebellious runaway Black.

"Is this a curse I'm unfamiliar with?" She asked with a raised brow and conjured confusion deepened in her face. She didn't care to look at Sirius as he pulled out of Carrow and zipped his trousers up and over a nasty case of blue balls, which had actually taken him a long time to accumulate as Constantine kept looking over his shoulder and ruining the Blanche illusion he'd cast upon himself. "Sirius! I wouldn't want to leave you with…that…" she pointed to the considerable bulge in his pants with laughter.

"I can see you're playing. I'm not falling for this."

"No, really!" She cried with a wicked grin. "I'll even help you out a bit," she said curiously as she took a step into the broom closet. An unholy smirk would have buoyed on Sirius' face if he had not seen her raise her wand and leave it at his throat.

"Please no."

"Oh, stop it! It will only solve matters—I promise!" She feigned a squeal. "Sicas Osculamons," she cast.

Sirius felt nothing in that moment, and looked at her oddly. Who was she to cast a faulty curse? But then again, she did love pressure-sensitive curses and transfigurations, as could be seen with the curse that got her into detention in the first place. He looked at her with a raised brow. "What was that?"

"It wasn't anything!" She laughed, closing the door to the closet behind her loudly.

Constantine got on her knees before him quickly and unzipped his trousers, reaching for him with her mouth. Sirius ignored her trials and pulled her to her feet—all too familiar with her lacklustre blowjobs. He hiked up her skirt once again—prepared to finish his hardness then ask Blanche for forgiveness. He planted a kiss on her lips before tilting her over, unzipping, pulling out, and… nothing. He'd lost it. And for the first time in his life—a bent over, legs-parted, uniform-wearing, panting, pleading, begging, messy-haired, dripping-for-him schoolgirl was not enough to get him hard. He rubbed himself for some time, but got nothing.

"Sirius?" She breathed heavily, sending a hand southwards to try and please herself whilst she waited. Not even that did it.

"I… don't know…" he flustered, flabbergasted. This had not ever happened to him before. And he finally realised… Blanche.

He didn't even apologise as he burst out of the closet, walking toward the Detention Chamber. Normally he would insist on finishing her off after such a failure on his part, but he could not wait. He walked into the room where Blanche was—now consisting of significantly higher stacks of files than before, Evan Rosier leaning with lanky hips on a desk, and Blanche sitting on the floor looking at Rosier with a dreamy expression. Sirius instantly felt a wave of envious heat hit his lungs.

"I didn't even know they were doing that, you know. I never would have allowed that. If I'm winning Quidditch, I like to win the real way…" Rosier shrugged boyishly, looking at Blanche as she grinned in the way she did when she wanted something—canine teeth peeking over her ripe bottom lip, eyes looking through thick lashes, and swanlike neck extended fully.

"Of course you wouldn't. Men win the real way, after all," she hummed, curling one corner of her lips.

"Exactly. They're boys, Snape and Mulciber… Just want to hurt Potter, you know? Don't even care about the game," he shook his head sadly. Neither had looked at Sirius as he stood in the doorframe with his shirt untucked, hair completely askew, and an unfriendly expression on his face. "Severus didn't even get your pig charm, by the way."

"Oh, he didn't?" She frowned.

"No," he shook his head, rolling up his sleeves. "That was a pretty damn good curse, by the way. I won't lie—it's pretty sexy how smart you are," he grinned. You can say that again, Sirius thought.

"You think I'm sexy?" She blushed, tucking back a strand of hair she'd intentionally let fall before her eyes.

Sirius wanted to roll her eyes. Of course she knew she was sexy; she'd have to be braindead not to notice the way boys and men alike worshipped her every word and followed her every step. It was her knowingness and vanity that had, long ago, sealed the deal for Sirius in his love for her. She was never irritatingly modest about her looks—never, ever keeping her light under a bushel. She was no mouse, but a scintillating, sleek panther. It was, perhaps, his favourite quality of hers. But then again, there was all the rest of her… He shook his head. No, he repeated to himself. He insisted he was outraged.

"Of course. Always have. I mean, look at you. But then again, you're not just looks… You've got the brains too. Top in your year, aren't you?"

"Oh, no… There's a couple in front of me in some classes," she shrugged modestly with a shy smile, allowing the shirt to dip further into her cleavage. This contrived modesty sent Sirius on edge, but then he watched Rosier's eyes follow the newly exposed skin; he'd only caught him before he, Sirius himself, was nearly falling into her trap.

"I can only think of Snape in Potions… He's got something out for you and your buddies, you know? Mulciber and him were planning on finishing you guys off with something after the Quidditch match… Can't remember what, though…" he pursed his thin lips.

Sirius cleared his throat and finally made his presence known. Rosier looked at him in surprise, but Blanche didn't take her eyes off of her Slytherin guest. "Can't remember?" Sirius asked menacingly, looking at Rosier with hard eyes as dark as charcoal.

"Oh, Black," he cleared his throat.

"Nice to see you again, Rosier. Though last time I'll admit you were getting a bit too cozy with me. Cobbing, wasn't it?" He asked sharply. Rosier—a year younger than both Sirius and Blanche—was essentially petrified of Sirius anywhere but the Quidditch pitch. Rosier slunk toward the door and squeezed past Sirius.

"I'll see you later, Blanche!" Rosier he ran away from Sirius' glare. Blanche buttoned the top of her shirt once again and clenched her teeth together.

"What the hell was that, you numbskull?!" She seethed at him once Rosier had left the Passage of Fouls.

"What the fuck are you trying to do—punish me for that? Make me jealous after you made me… you know!"

"Sorry?" She laughed. "You think that had to do with you?"

"Well obviously—you wanted me to see you being fawned over by some foul Slytherin jackass who cobbed me in the match…" he gritted his teeth.

"No!" She laughed wildly. "Why would I want to make you jealous?"

"Because… I made you jealous with Constantine," the assumption left his lips before he could understand what he was saying with them. Because perhaps you love me like I love you? He thought. But the look on her face said otherwise.

"What—you think I want you to slam me up in a sodding broom closet and throw me over some old sticks? Why on earth would I be jealous of you and Constantine?"

"But you cursed me," he mumbled curiously.

"I cursed you because you left me all of the files for half an hour. It wasn't like I was going to wait another ten minutes so you could get your rocks off. Merlin's shit, you are thick," she rolled her eyes, returning to her files.

"Then why did you pull Rosier in here?!" He exclaimed, finding his anger once more.

"To see what Snivellus was up to, obviously. I knew he had some involvement, and Rosier just confirmed it," she grinned widely.

Sirius sat back down amongst his piles of folders and silently opened another, perusing its data but not really reading it. He'd thought about the envy his heart leapt with when he saw Blanche smiling nervously up at Rosier, and the way Sirius had thought it was all intentional to get back at him. In his mind, she'd actually been jealous. In reality, she couldn't care at all that he was shagging the life out of a Slytherin imbecile two doors down. At least—it didn't seem like it.

Long after Sirius and Blanche had retired to their own dormitories without much more discussion other than a 'Goodnight,' Blanche lay in bed. She stared at the pine gray draping strung across the four-poster bed and the way it seemed to cool the heat in her cheeks that she'd finally permitted entry. When she closed her eyes, all she could see was that image in her mind: the door flying open, Sirius and Constantine—Constantine and Sirius. It wasn't necessarily something she wanted—or at least she didn't think she did. The situation was not one she would have longed for, but it was more the intimacy she'd run into that she felt jealous of.

Sirius had had an expression on his face she'd never seen before—his features were contorted in a way that would seem unappealing to look at, but was somehow enticing. His bottom lip had been captured between his teeth, and his brow was furrowed in passionate concentration. Most interestingly, she hadn't seen that look in his eyes that he threw at her every now and then—the most intrinsically masculine and lustful look she'd ever seen on any man. It wasn't there in that broom closet.

So Blanche closed her eyes and imagined that look meshed in with the furrowed brow and the bitten lip. She imagined another four-poster bed sheathed in black or scarlet or emerald green—this one much wider than the one in which she lay. She thought of his large hands exploring every uncharted inch and curve, and the face he'd make when she touched him.

She slept into this dream.

Easter Holidays, 1977

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Whilst James, Lily, and Peter had gone home for the Easter Holidays, Sirius, Remus, and Blanche were left at the school. Blanche and Sirius thought to stay as, if they'd gone, they would only be lying around Sirius' flat for a week. As for Remus—the full moon fell during the holidays, so he'd figure he'd save his parents the trouble of dealing with that. Lyall Lupin had ensured that it was alright for Remus to come, but Remus argued that his visit would place too much stress on his mother Hope, who was ill with pneumonia.

"Blanche, I should not be taking the Arithmancy N.E.W.T.," Sirius spoke quietly with his eyes trained on the fire of the Gryffindor common room. On his lap was one of ten number charts he had yet to do for the class over the break.

"You're better than most of the others in our class," she offered. "You're just lazy and you wait until the last minute."

"What, and you've finished all of your number charts and the consultation essays?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Really? Then what is it you're doing there?" He pointed to the book in her lap.

"She's researching Legilimency," Remus answered quietly, not looking up from his Ancient Runes work.

"Have you any work to do—at all?" Sirius inquired.

"Yes. I haven't practiced nonverbal spells in a while, I've a lab on Dementor defence, and a paper on the nature of human transfiguration."

"So you've done the homework on the evolution of Elder Futhark to Younger Futhark runes?" Remus asked desperately, looking up from his work.

"Yes."

"Please help me answer this," he leant his work toward her and she looked over at it. "Explain the reduction in character from the Elder to the Younger Futhark in relation to other major changes in Norse society."

"Christ—I haven't even looked at that," Sirius sighed.

"The major societal changes were linguistic, specifically being the phonetic differences between Proto-Norse—which was current with Elder Futhark—and Old Norse—which was current with Younger Futhark. The changes resulted in a reduced alphabet."

"Oh," Remus' lips parted in explanation. "Thanks."

Blanche returned to her book and crossed her legs. She was quite interested in Legilimency—especially because every professor refused to teach her anything about it. She wouldn't want to control anyone; she was just interested in taking a glimpse into someone's head. Like… Sirius' head. She'd quite like to look into that. She looked up at him and saw him already staring at her.

"What?" She asked.

"Nothing," he shook his head and looked down at his work.

"Hi Sirius," a feminine voice broke the warm and quiet atmosphere Remus, Blanche, and Sirius had constructed in their half-moon around the fireplace. Blanche looked up to see Janis McLaggen, a fifth year who hadn't been of much notice until she blossomed into an attractive, buxom girl the summer after fourth year. Blanche never remembered having a reason to outwardly dislike her, but when she saw her walk through the common room with a flirtatious smile and eyes for Sirius, she found that she really did not like Janis McLaggen.

Blanche slid her wand out of her skirt and kept her mouth shut as she flicked it toward Janis, causing her legs to lock. She fell down before she had a chance to reach the girls' dormitory, and several of her friends went rushing over to hoist her back up.

"Blanche!" Sirius exclaimed with a clenched jaw. Janis looked over to Blanche with a sour, blushing look before resuming her way upstairs—Blanche unlocked her legs after her fall.

"What?" She asked innocently. "I was practicing my nonverbal spells."

"Was a bit rude she didn't bother to greet us," Remus grumbled.

"Thank you!" Blanche rejoiced with a wide grin. Remus rarely ever took sides. "Plus, it's not like you had a chance with her anyway."

"Are you kidding me? She's been wet for me since she was a Second Year," Sirius snorted. A look of distaste crossed Blanche's face in a grimace, and she pinched him as punishment.

"Oh, I'm sure she'd love you to throw her into a broom closet. But that wasn't what I was referring to," Blanche smiled. "I was alluding to your problem… below-the-belt."

"I fixed that!" Sirius exclaimed, looking down nervously to the victim of one of Blanche's curses. He was quite sure that was only a one-time-only occurrence.

"That's not fixed until I say so," she laughed loudly. Remus joined in and Sirius sent him a glower. "I mean there are ways around it… but those are for you to figure out."

"What? I haven't been with anyone since Constantine. I've given him time to recover. He should be fine!"

"This has nothing to do with a recovery period. This has to do with my decision to un-curse you."

"Well… do it!" He cried.

"No."

"What? Why?! What did I ever do to you?!"

"Plenty."

Blanche stood up with her book and prepared to walk away, but before she left she reached down and crumpled Sirius' Arithmancy chart into a ball and dropped it back onto his lap. After that, she walked away.

Sirius released a long huff of frustrated air and flattened his Arithmancy homework before watching Blanche leave the Gryffindor common room through the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"You really don't go about some things very brightly," Remus shook his head and never brought his eyes up to meet Sirius'. Sirius looked at him with a scowl that Remus didn't see.

"What is that supposed to mean? Is there any way to 'brightly' go about this curse?" Sirius inquired sarcastically. "I barely did anything. She just walked in on me shagging a Sly—a girl. Some Fifth Year, I think…" he instantly covered Constantine's house. He didn't think Remus would mind much, but James would be livid if he discovered Sirius had slept with a Slytherin.

"It means you're missing the obvious. Why would she curse you so that you can't shag any girls except her?"

"Except her?" Sirius repeated confusedly.

"Curses generally recognise their caster. I could be wrong because Blanche made that curse, but I don't believe it would apply to her—just saying."

"Oh, well I don't imagine that was intentional, but," he began, but saw great doubt in Remus' eyes. "What?"

"Never mind that. Why do you think she'd curse you?"

"She was angry I left detention for thirty minutes to meet with Constantine."

"So did she curse you temporarily?"

"Obviously not. I'm still bloody cursed, she says," Sirius barked.

"So you didn't answer my question. Why would she cast a curse upon you that prevents you from shagging any girls?"

"Because she's angry I left detention—"

"No!" Remus huffed, rolling his eyes. "You're not thinking, Sirius. Blanche does hold a burden, but she's not absolutely unreasonable. Why would she prevent you from shagging anyone?"

"I don't know!" Sirius cried, slamming his head into his palms.

"You may be smart, but sometimes I swear you're as dumb as a bloody rock," Remus shook his head. "She cursed you so you can't shag anyone because she doesn't want you shagging anyone."

"Because she's angry with me?"

"Because she's in love with you and she's jealous!"

Sirius sat quietly before bursting out into laughter. "Really, Remus—I thought you knew her better. Blanche doesn't get jealous," he guffawed. "And if Blanche loved me, she would have hopped on long ago. She's had years."

"You git!" Remus hit him in the head. It was a daring move, as Sirius could surely throw the heavier punch after years of being a Beater. He'd seen him take on other boys before and it always ended dreadfully for the opponent. Sirius, however, just felt the forming bump under his hair and scowled. "She's a human being—obviously she gets jealous. And just because you fell in love with her after a week of knowing her, doesn't mean she's been sure of her feelings for you since she first met you. It's taken her years to realise how she's felt about you, and I reckon she still hasn't even admitted it to herself. But not shagging every bird that saunters into your line of sight, and starting to give a damn whether or not it's hurting her, is definitely a step in the right direction—whether it's because of a curse or not! So why don't you get your head out of your infatuation with her and actually take a look at the way she's feeling about you for once!

Can you imagine how she's doing right now? She's torn up that someone has finally cracked that icy façade she's spent years constructing, she's heartbroken because it's you who's done it—the boy who keeps a journal full of his shags under his bed, she's confused because she lost her mother and her home in a week's time, she's depressed because her own father used an Unforgivable Curse on her, she's bitter because her best friend is in a happy relationship and she doesn't even know how to be, she's angry because a gang of Slytherins have it out for her best friends, she's scarred by whatever the hell her wretched father has done to her in the past, she's ashamed because of who her family is, and she's hopeless because all she ever does is keep all of this locked up inside her.

I'm not saying she has it any harder than you, but I think she needs a lot more help than she lets on. And you're the only one she ever considers spilling her guts to, but all you can think about is the fact that you can't get it up for anyone. Maybe she prevented you from shagging anyone because she actually wants some genuine, undivided attention from you."

Remus looked back to his homework with a long and exasperated breath. With sloppy penmanship, he answered a question about the orthographical similarities between different Norse runes.

Sirius sat there for a few moments, as stiff as a statue. He even appeared so to everyone else in the room—most of whom had noticed that Remus had spoken for longer than minute straight in public. It was quite an odd thing to see—as was seeing Sirius being told off without giving back any snarky retorts.

"Remus, where's the map?" Sirius asked urgently, getting on his feet and jumping anxiously on his heels.

"What?" His brow furrowed. "Oh. Under James' pillow, I think."

"Cheers," Sirius answered, turning before stopping himself. "I'm an inconsiderate arsehole," he admitted to Remus, who only sighed in response and met his eyes.

"Sometimes, yes," Remus nodded.

"God bless you, you mangey wolf," Sirius sighed before running off up the stairs.