Chapter Eight
It's All Just Acting, Right?
To say Professor McGonagall was livid would be a severe understatement.
After a long, winded speech about dishonoring the name of Gryffindor House and how our families would be hearing about the fight, she finally calmed down enough to concede that the Slytherins had deserved it, and that was when I knew she didn't hate us entirely. Say what you want about Minerva McGonagall, but that woman did not take things lying down, and – dare I say it – I think she was a little proud of us for standing up to the snakes like that.
"You two are free to go," she said to Potter and Black twenty minutes later. "Your detentions will start next Monday – and don't make any plans for the next few weeks, boys. I am sure Mr. Filch will have plenty of cleaning for you to do."
"But what about Quidditch?" Potter demanded, though his tone became less sharp when McG raised her eyebrow at him. "Our first match is at the end of the month! We need to practice!"
Black nodded vigorously beside him, and I rolled my eyes when he gave the stern witch one of his charming grins.
"Accommodations can be made and schedules rearranged, Mr. Potter," she said, seemingly close to rolling her eyes herself, though I could see the fondness behind her strict demeanor. "Now, get to your afternoon lessons. Miss Everlark and I have a few more things to discuss."
Oh, great.
I tried not to let my anxiety show as Potter and Black shuffled out of the office without a backward glance, but I guess I did a shabby job of hiding my squirming as Professor McGonagall edged her tin of biscuits toward me.
"Take one and stop fidgeting, Miss Everlark," she said to me. "You're not in any more trouble than those two mischief-makers."
I took a biscuit silently and bit into it, my stomach calming some as I chewed and waited for her to speak with mild confusion. If I wasn't in trouble, then what was I still doing here?
"Well, that was a sight I hadn't witnessed in some time," she said. "Typically, you, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Black are on the opposite sides of a conflict; to say the least, it surprised me when Silvanus reported to me that you fought on the same side as them. And when you were all here just now…"
Was this supposed to make me stop fidgeting? Because I was pretty sure I was writhing in my seat from discomfort now.
I took another bite of biscuit, hoping I'd start choking on it just so I could avoid the awkwardness of this conversation. Why was everyone so damned intent on bringing up the past? Seriously, couldn't we just let it go at this point? Just let me live my petty life, please!
Shit. She was staring at me as if waiting for a response. Had she said something else that I missed while I was internally screaming?
"Er…yeah," I said intelligently. When she kept staring at me, I had to look away, shoving the rest of the biscuit into my mouth. I began wishing she had given me one with nuts in it just so I could have an allergic reaction and leave. Maybe I could still fake one.
"Miss Everlark." She made my name sound like a weary sigh, and instantly my muscles tensed. I could sense a Dorcas "the-past-is-in-the-past" speech coming on, and suddenly I was so, so tired, and so, so annoyed.
"Look, Professor, I'm not trying to sound rude here or anything, but could we not talk about the old days? It's just – everyone has been on my case about the Maraud – boys – and frankly, I'm very sick of it. I'm sick of being reminded that they used to be my friends, I'm sick of everyone telling me to back off them – I'm just tired of it. Yeah, surprise, we used to be best mates, but people change. We grow up, we move on. Why can't I be allowed to do that without everyone throwing the past in my face?"
She stared at me for a long time, not speaking. So long, in fact, that I began to wonder if I should just leave. But finally, she adjusted her square-rimmed spectacles and spoke.
"I understand clearly, Miss Everlark, and I will not press the matter further at your behest. However, I would also like to point out that yes, while people grow up and move on, as you put it, that sort of thing can also be for the better. Perhaps that is something you should think about."
I wanted to argue, but I knew it was pointless. She had that "don't-question-my-wisdom" expression on her face, and honestly, I was so done with getting into trouble that I felt like I needed to sleep for three days straight.
"Thanks, Professor," I said. "I'll keep that in mind. May I go now, please?"
She pursed her lips but otherwise nodded. "You may. Have a good day, Miss Everlark."
After bidding the professor farewell, I exited the office, letting the door close behind me. No sooner had it clicked into place than a voice spoke directly beside me, and I let out a colorful swear.
"So, did Minnie force you to join any more clubs after your brawl with Yaxley?"
I spun around, scowling when I saw Potter leaning against the wall next to the door. He looked like he'd lost a fight with a cat, his hair more disheveled than usual and numerous scratches and bruises littering his skin, but he still had the audacity to smirk at me.
"No, surprisingly," I said. "How was wrestling Rosier, by the way?"
He grinned, though it came out more like a snarl at the mention of the Slytherin. "Fantastic. My fist is already aching to meet his face again."
I stared at him. "That has got to be one of the most cringeworthy things I have ever heard you say, and you've said a lot over the years, Potter."
He grimaced. "Like that time in third year when I wrote that poem for Evans on Valentine's?"
I had to let out a snort at that. "No, that one definitely takes the cake. Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat just recalling it from memory."
His lips twitched, but when we made eye contact, we both burst into laughter. I gripped my sides as I laughed, clutching the stitch that was forming, and Potter positively howled, clapping his hands together in mirth.
We made eye contact again, and as suddenly as it had come, we stopped, the corridor falling into an awkward silence as we both looked away, unsure of what had just happened. What did just happen? It was like for a few minutes we had completely forgotten we hated each other.
"Where's Black?" I asked nonchalantly, partly to smooth over the tension, and partly because I was afraid the other boy would jump out and hex me; after all, I did make some pretty nasty digs at him before the brawl with the Slytherins.
Potter shrugged, scratching at the stubble on his cheek uncomfortably. "Went back to the common room. I stayed behind – wanted to see if you were all right."
I blinked. This day was getting weirder and weirder. Since when did Potter ever want to see if I was all right?
"Er, I'm fine, thanks," I said.
"What Yaxley said…" He clenched his fists, breathing out through his nose. "He's vile. No one deserves to be called that."
"It's fine," I said, fiddling with the sleeve of my robes. "I've been called much worse, trust me."
I couldn't help the pointed look I gave him, but shockingly, Potter flushed, looking abashed.
"I didn't mean what I said earlier," he said. "I was just sticking up for Sirius, and I lost my cool for a second. I don't – I don't think you're a bitch, Everlark."
He sounded sincere, and that was what rattled me.
"It's fine," I repeated. I scratched the side of my nose awkwardly. "Let's face it, I need to be knocked down a few pegs every once in a while."
He smirked at me, and slowly, I grinned back. He pushed off from the wall and clapped my shoulder, and my knees nearly buckled – the lanky bloke was stronger than he looked.
"Well, I'd best be off," he announced. "See ya, Everlark."
I waved, but he stopped just before he turned the corner, turning back and eyeing me with an unreadable expression.
"He misses you, you know," he said, and my heart pinched sharply. "He tries not to let on to it, but I think he has for a while now."
I said nothing, and he gave me a roguish wink and a salute before he was gone, leaving me standing alone in the corridor like a dumbstruck fool.
I trudged back to the common room, my body aching and my limbs dragging. While neither Potter nor Yaxley had hit me, I was still sore from Potter steamrolling over my body on the ground and my vicious grip on the Slytherin while he had tried to buck me off. All I wanted was to sleep and recover for the rest of the afternoon, but – you guessed it – it looked like I had a few obstacles to jump before that.
Muttering a tired "will-o'-the-wisps" to the Fat Lady, I climbed through the portrait hole and emerged into the common room. I had barely set foot into the place before Dorcas was already marching up to me with Emmeline and Becca on her heels, and, to my surprise and disgust, Mary Macdonald was with them.
"We need to talk," Dorcas said, and I shrugged, waving them over to a corner table by the window. I plopped down in a seat, trying not to fall asleep as the girls gathered around me, Macdonald still annoyingly there.
"All right, let's hear it," I said, crossing my arms. Dorcas's eyes narrowed, and she shared a glance with the other girls, even Macdonald. My teeth clenched.
"Look, Piper, you know we love you," Emmeline began nervously.
"But something's off with you lately," Becca supplied. She sat straight-backed in her seat, her heavily-lined eyes intense and serious, and I suddenly saw the resemblance to her uncle, Bartemius Crouch, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. He had been in the papers all summer, ever since the Death Eaters had been gaining more approval and becoming bolder in their attacks, and I understood now why he was in charge – the Crouch look was an intimidating one.
I frowned. "There's nothing off with me."
They exchanged another glance, and I scowled. Macdonald was still hovering like a pesky fly, and my irritation bubbled, especially when she had the audacity to speak to me.
"Piper, dear," she said soothingly as if I were a cranky baby who needed to be put down for a nap. "You've been very aggressive ever since this term started – well, more so than usual. Did anything happen over the summer to make you feel like you need to lash out — ?"
"Christ, Macdonald, what are you, a shrink?" She blinked, oblivious to the Muggle term, but I pressed on. "Why are you even here, anyway? No one in this group likes you."
"Ignore her, Mary," Dorcas said when the older girl flushed in embarrassment. "Piper just doesn't know when to stop acting like a child."
"Excuse me?" I whirled on her. "Where do you get off on talking to me like that? I'm your friend."
"Someone has to say it," she snapped. "You've been downright horrid ever since we got back from holiday, and it's making the rest of us miserable! What's gotten into you, Piper?"
I stood up abruptly, shoving my chair back so hard it crashed to the floor.
"I'm going to bed," I said. "I'm done being interrogated."
Dorcas stood to block me as I attempted to storm past, but despite her being several inches taller than me, I didn't budge.
"This conversation isn't over," she said, just loud enough so the half of the common room that hadn't looked up when I shoved my chair was now aware of our standoff, but I couldn't care less.
"Yes, it is," I ground out through my teeth. "Now, move."
"I don't think so," she growled, stepping closer, and I automatically took a step back, stumbling when my legs hit the table behind me. She towered over me now, and suddenly I couldn't breathe, my lungs locking and my throat clamping. My vision went unfocused and I struggled to at least swallow, my mouth bone-dry. I had to get out. I had to get out.
I shoved past Dorcas, knocking her off-balance, and pelted full speed up to the dormitory, slamming the door shut behind me. I was panting, my knees trembling like they were about to give out, and I slid to the floor, the coolness of the wooden floor embracing my flushed skin.
I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling a few tears slip out, but thankfully, nobody came for me. I was alone, and that was all I prayed for. I stayed with my back to the door and cried.
I wasn't speaking to Dorcas, or anyone, for that matter. It had been two days since my fight and their subsequent attempt at an intervention, and though we still sat together in lessons and at meals, I barely said more than a handful of words to any of them.
I hadn't spoken to any of the Marauders, either. Potter had gone to pretending I didn't exist after our moment of truce on Monday, and though Black still sent me death glares every once in a while, he wasn't outright antagonizing me, which was practically a blessing. Pettigrew was oblivious, as usual, and even Lupin was ignoring me. I hadn't been sure what to make of Potter's words; I knew they had been about Lupin, but I hadn't believed him. Though now, with him giving me the cold shoulder, I was certain Potter had only been saying it to get under my skin.
I ate my dinner that night slowly, dreading the arrival of the eighth hour. The Muggle Arts Club (or the 'MAC,' as I had secretly dubbed it) hadn't met for two weeks since Professor Flitwick had been out for dragonpox. He had assigned us lines to read in the meantime, announcing via owl that auditions would be held the week he got back and that he expected everyone to participate, no exceptions. I had read the lines more out of boredom than anything, not planning on snagging a major part and hoping I would be cast as Tree #1 or something, but I still didn't want to go and be subjected to the Marauders and their female fiends.
"It's ten 'til eight," Emmeline said, nudging my elbow with hers and startling me out of my stupor. "You should get going."
I nodded, giving the quiet girl a soft smile. Emmeline had always been the sweetest out of all of us, and how could I be mad with a face like hers?
"I'll see you later," I said, only sparing a brief glance at the other girls. Becca poked at her macaroni while Dorcas was looking farther down the table, her attention elsewhere. Stifling a sigh, I shouldered my bag and departed from the Hall, waving to the boys (who either didn't know or didn't care about my fight with the others) as I left.
I arrived at the empty Charms classroom where the club met exactly when the bell chimed eight, and I took my customary seat in the back with the Hulking Hufflepuff, Thaddeus Meyers. I had yet to hawk up the courage to say anything to him, but he gave me a slight nod as I sat down, a glint of respect in his dark eyes.
Ah, yes. The story of my brawl with Yaxley had taken to the Hogwarts rumor mill like wildfire, which had resulted in outright hostility from the Slytherins and grudging respect from the other Houses. A seventh-year Ravenclaw had even high-fived me for it! I was making my way up in the world.
Professor Flitwick bumbled into the classroom shortly after the bell stopped chiming, Lupin following behind. I guess Flitwick was brought in to be an impartial judge for the auditioning, considering he usually never showed to these things, as he took a seat in the front row, conjuring a few cushions with his wand so he could sit taller.
Lupin leaned against the desk at the front of the room and raised a hand for silence. "Well, today's audition day, everyone. After I take the roll we'll begin. Professor Flitwick will decide who gets what part at the end of the meeting, so let's get started."
He sat down beside the Charms professor and unrolled a scroll of parchment, beginning to rattle off names for attendance. I couldn't help but notice his sour tone as he read off my name, nor the way a muscle in his jaw twitched when I announced my presence, but he continued without even sparing me a glance, finishing up the roll and sealing it once more.
"Let us begin!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "I'll pair you off wizard to witch, randomly selected by me, and divvy up parts as we go along. First up, Caradoc Dearborn and Diana Cresswell!"
Ooh, awkward. I guess Flitwick never got the memo that the two seventh-year Ravenclaws used to date each other, which made for a pretty uncomfortable situation considering the lines he had assigned us involved two characters declaring their undying love for each other.
The two Ravenclaws took to the front of the room gracefully, however, and I instantly envied how attractive they both were. They were bound to get lead parts, especially since they both nailed their audition. There was a polite smattering of applause when they sat down, and the auditions continued.
Most everyone was mediocre to some degree, and the first years were dreadful, giggling and making faces during their readings. The demon spawn from Fortescue's was atrocious, mostly because he kept glancing back at me and making kissy lips, and I resisted the urge to throw my shoe at him.
Flitwick kept pairing people off, and the longer I sat there, the more I began to worry. Soon it had dwindled down to me, Lupin, Evans, and Black, all to my utmost horror. I didn't want to be paired with any of them, but the worst scenario had to happen, of course.
"And our last two pairs!" Flitwick announced. "Sirius Black and Lily Evans, second to last, with Remus Lupin and Piper Everlark finishing us off!"
I physically fought the urge to groan. Was the universe against me this much? What higher being wanted me to suffer so badly?
Lupin didn't look any better off. He was literally on the edge of his seat, his knee bouncing in agitation, and I wondered if he was about to bolt from the room. If he did, I would be right on his heels; at least that was something I agreed with him on.
After a fifth-year Hufflepuff and fourth-year Ravenclaw were finished, Evans and Black took the floor. Now, I honestly wish I could explain what happened next, but I don't think any words can fathom the horrible awkwardness of their audition. Black was as arrogant and dramatic as ever, but Evans… I had never seen the poor witch so outside of her element before. I used to believe that Evans was great at everything, as pretentious as she was, but I think I had found the one thing that could put an end to her reign as the perfect princess.
I can't even begin to describe how awful she was. I almost felt bad for her. She was clearly flustered, but on top of that, she couldn't deliver a line to save her life. Merlin, maybe she should be the one cast as Tree #1.
"Er, thank you, Miss Evans, Mr. Black," Professor Flitwick said after halting applause. He cleared his throat, jotting down some notes and then crossing something out with a violent quill stroke. "Mr. Lupin, Miss Everlark, when you're ready, please."
Godric, here we go. I took a deep breath, standing from my seat and walking to the front to meet Lupin. Everyone's eyes were on us, but I tried not to be bothered by it, focusing on Flitwick instead, who gave us a kind smile.
I turned to Lupin, and he reluctantly faced me. His entire being radiated tension, and for some reason, Potter's words rang in my head. I shook them off, not wanting to be reminded when the object of his statement was right in front of me.
"Scene," Flitwick said, and I inhaled.
"I love you," I said. Had my voice meant to come out that shaky? "Forget what my father said, forget what my mother wants – I want you, and only you. I love you."
"What made you change your mind?" Lupin breathed. Damn, he was good at acting. I had to step up my game.
"Tonight, at the feast." I shook my head, biting my lip. "I saw my future clearly for the first time – like a veil had been lifted from my eyes. The loveless marriages, the meaningless parties, the dull, dreary landscape to an unhappy life… I couldn't do that to myself. I deserve better. And you…"
Lupin took a hesitant step forward, and I tried not to flinch when his hand cupped my cheek. His skin was unnaturally warm and callused, years of transformations etched into his flesh, and my breath hitched.
"I knew from the first moment I saw you I was meant to love you," he said softly. His green eyes bored into mine, and I was shocked at the intensity in them. Wow, he took this club seriously. "I had never seen someone so beautiful, so perfectly flawed in every way. It was agony, watching you from afar. I wanted – no, needed – to be close to you."
He leaned closer, almost whispering into my ear, and I shivered at the touch of his breath. "Do you trust me?"
"No."
The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Lupin faltered, his brows creasing in confusion. I backed away from him a step, and he frowned.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, but I shook my head.
"No, I don't trust you," I said. I didn't know what was compelling me to say this to him, but something inside of me had recoiled at his touch, curling into itself and spitting venom at him.
"You dropped me like I was nothing," I continued, my throat stinging. "You turned on me as if you couldn't be bothered. You stood by for years while they tortured me." I thrust a finger at the group of seventh-year Gryffindors, and they blinked in shock. "And now you come back, all of a sudden apologizing for what you did? Claiming to miss me?"
Lupin's dismayed gaze flicked briefly to Potter, who had the prudence to grimace and sink lower in his seat before the other boy turned his stare back to me.
"Piper—" He sounded pained, but I cut him off. I was tired of listening to him.
"I hate you," I spat. "I hate what you did to me, and I hate what you're still doing to me." I blinked back a sudden onslaught of tears. "Just leave me alone, please."
My voice broke, and the room was left in stunned silence. I could practically hear the dust motes hitting the floor.
Lupin stared at me, his green eyes filled with fury and hurt.
But it was all just acting, right?
I nearly jumped out of my skin when Professor Flitwick leaped to his feet, clapping ecstatically and shattering the deafening silence.
"Bravo, bravo!" he cheered. "I was worried when you went off-script, Miss Everlark, but that improvisation was wonderful! So captivating!"
No one else was clapping, but Flitwick didn't seem to notice. I swear I even saw him wipe a tear from his eye.
"That settles it!" he said. "I think we just found our last leading lady! Oh, you're going to make a brilliant Titania!"
"What?" I said dumbly. He couldn't be serious. Was he serious? Because if so…
I was royally screwed.
