A quick update for you all! I was a bit shocked by particularly one response I got on last week's update so I decided to respond to a couple of those at the bottom of this if you are so inclined to read! Hope everyone enjoys. This chapter (and those surrounding this) are rather fluffy so if that's not your thing then I apologise. Eventually this story will be rather high action so I like to have fun with the earlier chapters whilst I can!
Mid May, 1978
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Sirius' name had been chanted seven separate times that day—how was that for a finale? The last time he'd heard his name ring through the air was nearly an hour ago in the final moments of his closing Quidditch career…
"Bludger heading Potter's way—following right on his trail… And Potter's standing on his broom, just centimetres from the Golden Snitch! This is the make or break, if someone doesn't stop that Bludger it's going to knock Potter out cold! And with Cooper so close on his tail, if he misses this… But what's this—Black out of nowhere! Black approaching, faster than Ravenclaw Seeker Cooper, somehow?! And he's rounded the Bludger—bat out!"
"Si-ri-us! Si-ri-us! SI-RI-US!" The Gryffindor side chanted, overwhelming the screams of the Ravenclaw side closest to him.
"I know you'll kill," Blanche's voice rung through his body like an icy melody. He was pushing his broom faster than he ever thought it could go. He heard the wood crack softly beneath his hands. Oh well. This is when it matters, he thought.
"And Black's somehow hit the Bludger, sending it towards Cooper, who ducks and seems to resign from the race as she flees the wild Bludger! James still standing on his broom, so close!"
"Jump for it, James!" Sirius shouted as he sped several metres below his best friend. "I'll catch you, I promise!"
"You better, you fucker!" James Potter cried as he leapt from his broom and captured the Golden Snitch in his palm. Sirius latched onto his empty hand, as promised, and pulled him up. "Accio!" James instantly beckoned his broom, which he looped beneath him.
"Nice one, James!" Sirius cheered.
"And I don't believe it! Seeker Potter jumped from his broomstick to get the Snitch and has it now—effectively winning the last match of his last year! Saved by trustworthy Black, who saved him once more just seconds ago from a nasty Bludger—now that's what I call a trust fall!"
Sirius was finally alone, sitting in the empty dressing room with his broom in his lap. A thick crack ran down half its centre from the strain he'd put on it at the end of the game. He had a roll of Spello-tape he was working around it, hoping it would suffice temporarily.
Sirius had already showered. He now sat in only his joggers and a pair of socks. He didn't yet have the effort to dress himself; he needed a minute away from the chanting of the Gryffindor crowds. The bench upon which he sat surveyed the Quidditch Pitch, which had largely already been cleared and emptied back into the school for festivities. It was finally warm again—a temperate breeze shuffled casually through the open windows of the dressing room on the ground floor of the stadium. It carried the scent of fresh grass and the gardeners' mulch. His bare skin prickled with gooseflesh, but he remained where he sat.
Not yet having completed his N.E.W.T.s nor having graduated, Sirius nevertheless felt as though it were all over. With the temperate winds of mid-May came the end of his Seventh Year, really. Adolescence had gone by faster than anyone had ever promised him it would.
Sirius followed the crack down to its root. It split at its core. Schism. There was no use trying to resolve what could not be changed. He stood and walked to the short partition that separated the dressing room from the sidelines of the pitch and stood looking out upon the grasses.
"I thought I'd find you here," Sirius heard behind him. He turned sharply to see Remus, who wore a scarlet cardigan and golden stripes beneath his eyes. Sirius acknowledged him with a nod and a halfhearted grin. "You did well today, Padfoot."
"Cheers, Moony," Sirius thanked. "Not a bad finish to the season… Or, the sport, I reckon."
"I'd say," he sighed. "It's nice to finally have some half-decent weather as well. "
Remus had a perplexing skill with these sort of statements. So often were they things no one had yet realised, and he managed to portray them as the most obvious and tedious of facts. However, when he commented on the most ordinary and widely-accepted of things, he said them with such a serene sentimentality that one could not continue without being reduced to a sponge for his words. Perhaps it was his tone or his lack of embellishment upon these simple pleasures. But Sirius felt—for a moment—as though he were just a blade of grass out on the Quidditch Pitch, so grateful just to have some half-decent weather.
"So," Sirius finally piped back up, clearing his throat. "What will I be walking into once I get to the Common Room?"
"I'd say it's just about what you'd expect."
"Brilliant," Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Moony. I'm just not so much in the mood for that type of thing."
"You're growing up, Sirius. Of course you'd rather spend the day with your best mates in the pub or having a walkabout with Blanche in Hogsmeade. Your days of partying and philandering are over, it seems. Are you disappointed?"
"No, not at all," he shook his head. "I wouldn't change it for a second."
"One day you will. Not really to go back to it, but to relive that sort of freedom and untouchability. But for now, you're fine without it. And I'm glad, Sirius."
Sirius nodded happily, thankful to have the approval of his stoic and insightful best mate. Then a frown tugged at the corners of his lips. "Remus, I'm sorry about the night with Snape at the Shrieking Shack. I was being a twat. I didn't think about what that would do to you. I was just furious—"
"It's alright, Sirius," Remus said sincerely and patted him on the shoulder. "He hurt the thing you love the most in this world. Blind rage is what I would only expect of it. I wish I was as lucky as you to have that for someone, and to have their complete heart in return."
Sirius' smile returned as one half of his mouth perked up. Remus was right—he loved Blanche more than anything in the world, and—finally—he had her heart in return. "One day you too, Remus. I know it," he stated. "But speaking of, have you seen little Blanche around? She's not passed out in the bleachers, is she?" Sirius quipped.
"Thankfully no," Remus sighed. "She's been waiting outside the Pitch. Watched you come in for a shower and sat outside on the grass. Something about wanting to give you some time to yourself."
Sirius shook his head lovingly. He reached for his clean clothes—a white t-shirt and a navy jumper on top of that with a few holes. The thoroughly worn articles of clothing he chose to wear were mostly a malicious homage to his mother, who would often take his clothes and try to burn them back when he lived at home.
Remus looked admiringly to Sirius, who managed to look like an exceedingly handsome elite in spite of his dress. With the long, dark, usually messy hair, the holed jumpers and worn jeans, the dirtied trainers… He still managed to seem as though the risen cream of society. Perhaps it was the distinguished stateliness of his very fortunate looks, or the straight-backed, high height he forever maintained. Remus was unsure how, but Sirius would always seem regal, no matter how he dressed.
"I'm going to go get her. Want to come with?" Sirius enquired.
"No, see her yourself," Remus answered, to which Sirius knowingly grinned back. "I'll see you back up in the Common Room?"
"I reckon you will—unless things go exceedingly well. See you, mate."
Sirius left the dressing room with his poorly-repaired broom in hand. When he broke through the flaps of the tent, he saw Blanche lying upon a mound of grass with her wand in hand.
The head of a dandelion flew in the air above her, dancing with her wand. A pale blue streak left her wand and hit the flower, causing it to spin in rapid circles. She hit it again with another silent flick of her wand—a soft pink jolt—and it multiplied into another thirty dandelion heads in a firework of petals.
"You're not supposed to be practising charms on a day like today," Sirius commented, walking towards her. She leapt from her soft grass bed and engulfed him in a strong hug.
"I am so happy for you! You were magnificent!" She exclaimed.
Sirius laughed into her shoulder. It was so gratifying to hold her in his arms again, even though it had been hours; a better reward than anything given to him from his classmates or teachers.
"Thank you," he simply returned. She looked around him, searching for Remus.
"Where'd he go? Is he around?"
"Puttering about somewhere. Said he'd meet be back in the Common Room."
Blanche kissed him passionately, holding his shoulders and scrunching the soft knit of his jumper in her slender hands. Sirius assumed she'd sobered up, seeing her tentativeness. She then pulled away from him and slid her right hand up to his neck. Her soft palm felt the accelerating pulse under his skin.
"How are you feeling?" She asked.
"Better, seeing you," he grinned. He then held up his poorly-repaired broom. "However, lost this… I suppose it's no worry. It was a gift from my father anyway."
"Let me see?" She offered, extending her hands. She took it and examined the wood closely, then pulled the Spello-tape off in one sharp tug. "Well that's no use."
Blanche still had her wand out, so she cast: "Brackium Emendo." The wood mended itself quickly with a sharp crackle then snap.
"What? I thought that was for bones."
"It is," she informed. "But a broomstick isn't really wood. It has a life of its own. To an extent, its material responds as any human tissue would."
Sirius took it back, examining the pale scar that ran down the healed broom. "You're so smart."
"And you would be too, if you paid attention in Advanced Theoretical Magic."
"I was too busy chatting with you," he argued, pushing back a lock of jet black hair from her heart-shaped jaw.
"Perhaps," she giggled. "Do you remember how we tormented the Demoane twins in those classes?" She asked, referring to the identical Ravenclaw girls who'd been in their Advanced Theoretical Magic classes in Fifth Year.
"Only because they said you should be ashamed of your surname and your family," he reminded her. "They deserved it."
She shrugged in response, then seemed to forget it—or more likely, push it away. She leaned forward and stood on her toes to kiss him upon the bridge of his nose. "Shall we head to the Common Room?" She suggested, pulling him to walk towards the castle with her.
"I was hoping we could ditch that," Sirius sighed.
"Oh, you know as well as I that's not possible. James would have you on a stake."
"Why can't we find a way to celebrate? Just you and I?" He said, curling a hand around her hip. "You know, I still haven't really recovered from your dirty work this morning."
"No, Sirius! There's plenty of time for that," she said as she swatted his hand. "There's not a lot of time left to get together in a riotous Gryffindor Common Room free-for-all with all of your mates."
"Fine," he conceded. "But will I at least have your delicate love and ministrations later tonight?"
She looked up to him with half a grin: "Maybe."
As expected, the party thrown by the Gryffindor students—partly in patriotism, partly in fear of Blanche—was wild. Plates upon plates of pastry treats secretly supplied by the kitchen elves flooded every open surface; various brews, elf-made wine, and champagne perpetually filled glasses in the hands of Gryffindor students. Blanche herself held a glass of Bungbarrel Spiced Mead.
She watched Sirius be nearly assaulted by women as he stood on top of a table opposite James, who also stood upon his own table. The two were downing tall glasses of Simison Steaming Stout, which produced ashy trails of smoke which obscured their faces. Sirius finished first—albeit with the beer dripping down his halfway-buttoned dress shirt that already had a few other new liquor stains.
He was lifted into the air in his success. Blanche downed her drink. Sirius could sneeze and a group of adoring women and admiring men would erupt in applause for him.
Lily sat beside Blanche, sipping cherry wine slowly as she watched James' antics with a grin on her face. Blanche could never be so unstinting; even if Sirius was having the absolute time of his life, she'd still be jealous over the girls that threw themselves at him, annoyed with his kinglike popularity, frustrated when he gave others attention—particularly these days. She especially felt this way after a few drinks. She wasn't a very kind drunk. Lily, on the other hand, was forever a silly, giddy, and smiling drunk. James could act as much a fool as he wanted and Lily would always laugh with him.
Though sometimes, Blanche would participate in these larks. Every once in a while she'd forget everything and just enjoy herself. It was an unusual place for her, but it came around every now and then. When they were only best friends, that was when Sirius and Blanche had the most fun together. In Sixth Year after a Gryffindor Quidditch victory over Slytherin, Blanche and Sirius had drunkenly walked the entirety of the Slytherin eating table in the Great Hall to Queen's We Are the Champions. They had to wait for the professors to finish eating and had to repeatedly confound Filch, but the glory of kicking over Slytherin dinners and drinks to that anthem had been worth it. Obviously these days, they had more fun together in other places and in other ways.
"Stop scowling over there," Lily teased lightly, nudging Blanche in the ribs. "Go have fun with him."
"Seems as though he's having enough fun with James over there."
"He'd have more fun with you," Lily added. Blanche glared at her, but then tapped her glass with her index finger, to which it immediately refilled. She downed it in one sip and winced as it descended her throat, but it would at least bring her up to speed with the rest of the students. Sirius and James now sat with Remus and Peter before the hearth on the ornate Turkish carpet. She walked towards them and sat beside Sirius.
"Hi," he greeted, with a dopey yet charming grin on his face.
"Hello," she greeted with a nod. "What is it you four are up to down here?"
"Convincing Moony to go chat with that Fifth Year over there, Ramona LeFrank. With the dark red hair," Sirius jutted his chin towards a girl talking to a few of her friends, all holding beers in their hands. She was a pretty girl, if only possessing a simple beauty.
"Oh, I know her," she responded before Remus could stop the spread. "McGonagall told me she was quite talented in Transfigurations. Says she's looking to become a registered Animagus."
"Is that so?" James asked, raising his brows suggestively at Remus. Blanche looked over to Ramona once more, and saw her eyes flit twice in the direction of the fireplace. Though it was difficult to see who she was looking at—there was obviously Sirius, who was unquestionably the most handsome boy in the school let alone the room; there was James, who had a sort-of lanky, boyish handsomeness that earned him a couple of girlfriends before Lily; Peter was a dud in that department unless Ramona was blind, for his face was all too similar to that of his Animagus. Blanche watched her eyes once more, and took to eliminating the competition. She slung an arm around Sirius' waist and watched as no discernible reaction arose on Ramona's face as a result of it. Her eyes were on Remus, for James was lying on his back on the ground and out of her line of vision.
Blanche pulled her arm back and took a sip of Firewhisky. "She likes you," she informed them calmly.
"What?" Remus urged.
"How do you know?" James shot back up.
"It's obvious. She's not even doing a very good job hiding it," Blanche answered.
"You lot are impossible," Peter shook his head.
"Women really aren't that hard to read, you know," Blanche chimed patronisingly. "If you really looked, you'd see what a girl wanted."
Sirius closed his eyes in frustration, to which James laughed. For he had spent six years trying desperately to understand Blanche and win her heart, and had failed only until these past few months. "Oh, Blanche—you're making him feel bad!"
"How is that true, Blanche? I tried so many routes with you. I was the best friend always making mischief with you. I also tried at least thrice a year to ask you out."
Blanche remembered guiltily. "That's not entirely true, you fully stopped around Fifth Year!"
"Not true," James burst out laughing again. "Twice in both Fifth and Sixth Year he was going to give it a try again. I remember once at the start of Sixth he almost got to it—had this huge dinner event plan with enchanted violins and the lot, but you got angry with him the day before so he had to cancel it all."
"Not to mention all of the relationships he's ruined because of you," Peter added. "Like Carmina Collar? Remember you were going at it and you said—"
"Enough of that, Peter," Remus silenced his friend before he could continue. "Though he was planning the bit for his birthday since the end of Sixth Year."
"Alright, I understand. Maybe I was a bit tough," she admitted with a shrug. "But regardless—Remus, go talk to Ramona! She's a cute, clever girl."
"I can't," he forcefully insisted. "I'm not doing that to her."
"Then do it for you. It doesn't have to be anything serious. Just go chat with her. It's nearly the end of your time at Hogwarts and she still has two years to go. You won't lose anything," Blanche suggested.
"Getting laid never hurt anyone," Sirius said.
"Not true—Carmina Collar was quite a mess after—"
"Enough, Wormtail!"
Remus sighed, looking at his half-full glass before him. He bit his lip in unexpected consideration. "Even if I wanted to, I don't have the bollocks."
Blanche frowned, but then looked to Sirius with a grin. He mirrored it. She stood and stepped onto the table before the fireplace, then whistled loudly with two fingers between her lips.
"Blanche—" Remus began and raised to his knees nervously, seeing her intent. Sirius pulled him back down to the ground and slung an arm around his shoulders.
It was amazing how she could capture a crowd, Sirius thought, as all eyes turned to her in moments. She would make a great dictator, he reckoned, then furrowed his eyebrows at his own moderately drunk thought. But he looked up at her again and secured the thought. She could capture any man's heart and dick with the outfit she had on.
As much as Blanche complained about the wanton dress of girls at parties, even she wore her sexiest clothes at events such as these. Especially tonight. Lily and her had cleverly played with the words of the party's theme rule: 'Wear an Outfit You Want to Be Remembered By.' And so when the two giggling girls descended from the girls' dormitory towers, they were wearing their school uniforms… from several years ago. James and Sirius had been floored the entire night on the exceptionally short, plaid skirts and halfway-buttoned blouses they had tied around their midsections. In explanation, they shrugged innocently saying: "What? We want to be remembered as the well-behaved students we are!"
"Listen UP!" She cried. From this angle, if one lowered his head, he could perhaps see her knickers… Sirius caught Peter trying and clapped him harshly on the shoulder.
"A final game of Fourth Year and Up Snog or Spill around the fire, RIGHT NOW!
And if you don't join, you don't drink! So either finish your glasses and scurry upstairs or come 'round the fireplace!" She shouted. "And someone get a bottle!"
In awe of their sometimes ruler—for she rarely played her own popularity—every Gryffindor over the age of fourteen clamoured to get a good spot. Blanche rolled her eyes as four girls snuggly tucked up next to Sirius, so she took the armchair that was made available when an underclassman quickly scampered away from it. She draped two crossed legs over one arm and leaned against the other, keeping her refilled glass in her lap. Sirius made eye contact with her and seemed to nonverbally communicate with his sinfully raised brows and grinning lips: 'You jealous?' To which she silently laughed: 'Not a chance.'
An empty wine bottle found its way to the messy circle on the rug. Blanche noticed Ramona LeFrank sitting opposite Remus, her eyes flickering to him every few moments. Remus refused to meet her eyes, naturally; pretending he couldn't even see her.
"Let's begin," Lily piped up, taking on the role as co-director. "Volunteer?"
None other than Janis McLaggen popped up. Leaning forward to crawl to her hands and knees to the bottle, allowing every boy across from her—including Sirius—to catch an eyeful of her full cleavage. But Sirius' eyes were on Blanche as he mouthed the word 'shocking' to her.
"Okay, so snog," Blanche irately announced, rolling her eyes. Janis twisted the bottle and it landed on a Sixth Year girl. Oh, great… Blanche thought to herself. The boys cooed and cawed as Janis coquettishly kissed the girl over the wine bottle.
"John!" Lily moved on to the boy who set beside Janis. The game progressed as such—juvenile, but effective. Peter was kissed thrice, James once, Sirius twice, Lily once, Remus not at all, and Blanche had managed to avoid the bottle with a nonverbal and wandless charm she used whenever the bottle neared. She didn't mind the pecks Sirius gave the two girls when the bottle landed on him, but she wasn't in the mood to fight anyone off when they tried to take more than they could get when it landed on her.
They had learned some interesting tidbits: Mary MacDonald lost her virginity to her sister's boyfriend, William Rabnott once got so drunk he pissed in his neighbour's mailbox, and Kyra Wellaby once jinxed her ex-boyfriend with the Ebulio Jinx. Lily revealed to many that she smoked cigarettes for a summer between Fourth and Fifth Year and Sirius that he lost his virginity at fourteen—neither facts a surprise to Blanche.
Eventually, the bottle's spout reached Remus.
"Snog or spill, Remus?" Blanche voiced after her long period of inactivity. She knew what he would choose; he preferred not to reveal anything about himself, especially by force of the bottle.
"Snog, I suppose," he sighed and leaned forward, giving the glass a spin with his wide hands. Surely, with a little help from Blanche, the bottle head pointed to Ramona LeFrank. Sirius and Lily both had mischievous, grinning eyes directed at her. In response, Blanche placed a finger over her smiling lips. They were the only ones who could see the very slight tilt of her head when she charmed the bottle—aside from Remus, who surely knew.
The two met in the middle and he nervously pressed a kiss to Ramona's pink lips, intending to retreat immediately. However, she held him there by the jaw and deepened the kiss—not so sneakily incorporating her tongue. The crowd whooped and cheered, and when they parted, Ramona looked knowingly at Remus, who was as red as a rose.
Job done, Blanche sighed, preparing to resign herself from the game after she went following Remus, who she sat next to. "Snog or Spill, Blanchette?" Sirius asked, using her nickname aloud. She glowered at him for a passing moment.
"Spill," she hissed at him. He full well knew she could land the head of the bottle on him for a snog if she wanted.
Blanche didn't care who asked her what, she would lie regardless, so she allowed fate to decide. She withdrew back to her armchair.
However, Lily softly tilted her own head and charmed the bottle to land on herself. Blanche furrowed her brow and looked at her, not even knowing she could do such a discreet nonverbal spell.
"Blanche, Blanche, Blanche…" she hummed, trying to hide a smile with pursed lips.
"What would you like to know, Lil?" Blanche cooly replied. But she knew she would be unable to lie in response to Lily's question because Lily would out her. If the question master knew her subject had lied, she had an ethical responsibility to expose the truth.
"Do you have any tattoos? And show if you do."
Blanche's smile dropped from her lips. Only Lily knew… It had been a very, very heavy night of drinking together in London one weekend at the end of their Sixth Year. They'd met secretly in the city after leaving their family's house, preparing to return to Hogwarts together after a few nights of debauchery.
Sirius noticed the horrified look on her face. She had a tattoo? He asked himself. But she said she didn't! Plus, he'd seen his fair share of her body and never come across anything. But, then again, Lily wouldn't ask her that if she didn't know something…
"Lily," Blanche spoke through clenched teeth.
"You have to answer, my darling," she chimed in response.
"You have to!" Three or four players added.
Very reluctantly, Blanche stood up and cleared her throat. She tried to maintain at least some degree of dignity. She looked at Lily after a moment of hesitancy with pleading eyes. "Must I show it?"
"You know you do, my dear."
Blanche let out a sigh and reached an inch under the hem of her skirt, relieving a permanent spell she had casted long ago to erase the ink. And then she lifted her skirt just three inches and for only a moment to expose thin ring of text that looped around her pale, thin thigh. The crowd whistled and cheered louder than they had for any kissing couple—heterosexual or homosexual—that had been forced to the centre of the circle yet.
Blanche looked nervously to Sirius, whose face was frozen in a hybrid state of absolute shock and glee.
"Now hold on, what does it say?!" Lily cried over the crowds. "Someone read it!"
Nearly five boys toppled forward to crawl to her and study the text to high on her curved thigh, but Sirius shooed them all away with a flick of his hand and then gestured for her to come near him.
She wasn't sure if she was glad to have him be the one to read it aloud or frightened of the certainly lascivious response he'd give after reading what the tattoo said. He raised to his knees and pulled in her right knee, dragging both of his hands all the way up her thigh. She wanted to smack him—nearly every member of their class was there!
Sirius rounded her leg, beginning where it started just inches below her bum, which he traced the line of with his fingers thankfully under her skirt. The text was plain—written in a short, neat cursive that was quite small and each word was spaced out so it could create a three-quarters length band around her leg. Then he read aloud: "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Blanche refused to look down at him, seeking to compose herself. Not only was she horrifically embarrassed, but she was also unsettled by the trail his hands had made up to her legs. He squeezed her to get her attention and she grudgingly looked down. A grin was plastered across his every feature and a dark glow sat in his eyes. Merlin, the reaction she would privately get from him over this.
In reaction to the text, James and Peter erupted in applause—being two of the very few in the circle who knew the true significance of the words. Even Remus laughed loudly at the line. The rest just thought it was purely promiscuous, whooping like elephants and roaring like lions over that fact. Some of the girls—especially those sitting around Sirius—rolled their eyes, thinking the line more slutty than anything else and annoyed with every boy in the room's reaction.
"We officially withdraw from the game!" Sirius announced. Before she could react, Blanche's legs collapsed beneath her Sirius pulled her down by her knees, taking her into his lap like a baby, then pulled them out of the circle. He studied the text more closely and ran his fingers over it as the game resumed. She tried to drag her fingers over it to cover it up again with the charm, but he swatted her hands away each time.
"This is…" he finally spoke lowly so none could hear, even though their game had loudly resumed. "A lot to handle."
"Well, say your goodbyes now because I'm covering it up again. Thank Merlin I was lucid enough to have it done in enchanted ink."
"Absolutely not," he demanded. "As a gift to me, please do not."
"It's trashy, Sirius."
"No, it's not. I promise you," he urged. "It's the best thing I've ever seen. It's the sexiest thing I've ever seen," he clarified, running his hands upwards to squeeze her bottom. She squealed at the sensation, bringing her knees up so her skirt floated to her waist. "There we are."
Sirius leaned in to kiss her knee and the ridge of her thigh before she pushed him away. "My god, Sirius. We're in the Common Room!"
Even Blanche had dedicated herself to the art of heavy drinking after what happened during the game, and she as properly wasted when three o'clock rolled around. This was the last time she had to herself and her friends, really. The next few days and nights would be of pure study. She'd even have to omit Sirius from her schedule. As much as she loved him, she needed to ace her N.E.W.T.s. If she wanted to get away from her family, she'd have to do well.
"What do you think—" Blanche hiccuped "—Remus is doing with Ramona."
"Losing his virtue, if he's clever," Sirius slurred in response, dragging a thumb absentmindedly for the millionth time over her newly-discovered tattoo which—to his endless pleas—she had not covered up with a charm. They laid on the couch of the Common Room, which was not dead but perhaps dying. Some drinking games still transpired, but most had stolen away to the corners of the Common Room and their dormitories to snog and shag. If not, they were passed out on the ground. Peter himself was snoring on the ornate carpet between the couch and the fireplace.
"He's never…?" She asked slowly.
Sirius shook his head. "Nope. He's the last of us four."
"Peter has not!"
"Swear on…someone's grave," he promised drunkenly.
"With whom?"
"Can't remember. Some girl," he said, then cleared his throat. "Didn't believe it myself either. But she said she was pregnant a bit after—heard her say it myself. Which is obviously impossible… but she was Muggleborn. Reckon she didn't know. She was just late, or something."
"Know what?"
"Unless Peter and… whatever her name is actually wanted a baby, it couldn't have happened," he shrugged. She furrowed her brow and looked into the fire. She didn't know that… no one had ever told her. "You weren't aware?"
Blanche pursed her lips. If she was not so drunk, a blush could have risen to her cheeks. "Guess I never really had any sex education. "
"Well, it's not too late for that," he said, to which she kicked him.
"Really, how did my mother never tell me that?" She asked herself.
"How did you figure it happened?"
"Well, novels don't tend to relay the exact mechanics of sex… no matter how raunchy they are. And in the stupid Muggle movies you showed me it's always—you know—a love child born accidentally from an illicit, saucy affaire de cœur. Are you saying wizards and witches cannot have unplanned pregnancies?"
"Yeah. Really, Blanche, how did you not know that? The world isn't exactly overflowing with wizards and witches, is it? We're the minority for a reason. And it's certainly best we stay that way."
"But remember…" she lowered her voice. "How James told us his parents tried to have a baby forever and only finally had James after about ten years of trying?"
"Well, just because you've decided you want one doesn't mean it's going to work. People can still be sterile and women can still have miscarriages… All the bad stuff can still happen. But when we want to, we can—and it won't happen until we decide it."
"Stop saying we, Sirius," she chided. "And honestly I should have assumed as much. With the amount of women you've had, there should really be a handful of Black bastards running about Hogwarts."
"Oh, stop with the envy, Blanchette," he soothed, sluggishly shifting so he could snuggle up next to her. He wrapped an arm around her, to which she initially fought but was coaxed into.
"I am not envious. Try disgusted," she scowled.
"There really weren't as many as James and Peter let on. A lot of the girls who really fancied me—they just assume something happened. But a lot of times it didn't. Probably because they didn't look enough like you."
"Stop it," she said, suppressing a smile. "I've seen it. Remember the broom closet? Constantine Carrow?"
"Interesting point—a tall girl with straight, black hair and ivory skin. If you turn her around, as I did—"
"Enough!" She squealed. "I get it. You think I'm fit."
"I thought you were fit in Second Year, Blanche. Remember when you came back for Third Year? And someone had blossomed—to say the least—over the summer? That's when you went from being fit to being…Venus. I nearly fainted when you came knocking on my carriage door on the train…my ripened demoiselle. Cruel Delilah."
"Merlin, Sirius," she shook her head, laughing.
"This chat has gotten me excited," Sirius blatantly said. "Can we go to my room?"
"What if Remus and Ramona are there? I would hate to disturb a deflowering."
"They'll be fine. I believe he knows Snivellus' silencing charm," Sirius whined.
"No, come on. You will live. I don't like the idea of snogging whilst others shag a metre away. Plus, we should stick around and make sure Peter doesn't choke on his own sick."
"Sounds significantly less enthralling," he pouted, but then sat up to examine the Common Room's inhabitants. A game of Butterbeer-pong ebbed in the furthest corner of the room. All within a few metres were asleep or nearing it as the dozed out of drunken conversations. There were a few playing some game involving singing cards nearby, but they scattered up to their dormitories with a flick of Sirius' hand when he got their attention.
"What are you doing?" Blanche asked, looking up over the back of the couch.
"Nothing," he answered, then placed a long kiss upon her dark lips. She responded hesitantly, but pulled away when she felt his hand creep beneath the hem of her blouse.
"What are you doing?" She insisted.
"Hardly anyone is near," he said as he sunk his mouth into her warm neck, placing delicate kisses from the ball of her jaw to her collarbone.
"It's still the Common Room. Come on, we're not Second Years."
Sirius pulled away at her repeated discouragement and frowned, but kissed her forehead lovably in acceptance of her disinterest. But she grinned hesitantly then tugged him back down into her closest embrace, bringing their lips back together. No one saw the two behind the couch's back, kissing quietly but wildly like Second Years. Not even Peter, who slept in a drunken peace on the Common Room floor until morning.
Natsuko26: Thank you very very much for your support! As long as I know there are some people hanging about then that certainly encourages me to keep going (-:
.2019: Thank you! I don't know of many Sirius stories though which has always made me sad, so if you know of any good ones please let me know! I think it's such a missed opportunity... In my eyes he's such a great character! Plus it's a silly, handsome boy in the 1970s Hogwarts-what could be better!
Guest: I am very, very sorry you feel that way and was very disappointed to see this. In my character's defence I envision her as someone who's been tough as hell and closed off all of her life, and that this has really damaged her person. So it makes sense to me that around Sirius see seems much softer and 'weaker' (although I personally think he makes her stronger). But I'd also argue (as I've written the entirety of this fanfiction and am working on the second) that Blanche is still tough as nails. I just personally don't see opening up to someone and being able to forgive as weakness. That being said, Blanche evolving and learning to accept Sirius is definitely the trajectory of this story, so it may be best that you're finished with the story. It's not for everyone!
See everyone next week (hopefully)!