Semele Perdita

Okay, lots of people have been concerned about Lily’s house, and YES she is in Gryffindor by JKR’s word but in my own special universe she is in Ravenclaw, I won’t sway on this because its important she be there, if that bothers you and your mind won’t expand to meet this, go find another story. I’m really sorry, I tend to stray from the lines and rules, its just my style or as some say my “character flaw”

Anyways on with the story, so you don’t have to flip back I added the last part of Chapter 9 right here for you…and since my inspiration was a rather (I like that word, rather rather rather, its fun to say :-D, okay sorry back on topic now) girly talk about a ‘scarring event’ in one of my friend’s life. He he, I promise I didn’t include any of the obscene swear words and imagery she supplied me with over the phone yesterday either.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Last Time on Semele Perdita:

“Well, well, well, my two victims are right on time,” Filch’s sneering voice startled both of us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lily shrink back a bit. I smiled a bit, but quickly wiped all traces of laughter off my face. Filch really hated laughter unless it was of his own accord.

“Filch, you’re looking grand tonight,” I jibed. I saw Filch’s sneer twist in disgust at the sight of me. You would think I was some piece of particularly nasty garbage the way he looked at me about that moment.

“Just for that, Potter, tonight is going to be miserable...for the both of you.”

Behind me, I heard an exasperated sigh from Evans.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Semele Perdita

Romance/Angst/Humor

A Lily/James Fan Fiction

Chapter 10: Why To Never Serve Detentions In Old Hallways With Paintings

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

-Lily-

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

By the time we had walked through countless hallways I had never even seen before and glimpsed Filch’s twisted grin several times, I had to think something very bad was in store for both Potter and I both. Filch looked gleeful at the original prospect of having a reason to ‘punish us further.’ Damn Potter and his snarky comments. Damn him to hell.

My day was really going down the drain right now. I had started it out with a huge fight with Meara, which has only happened twice in the last five and something years we’ve known each other, and to end it the prospects weren’t looking too cheery.

“Here we are,” Filch’s low, greasy voice crowed out. I cringed as I looked around. We were in a rather large corridor with a huge collection of musty paintings that were either sleeping or glaring fiercely at us for disturbing their sleep. I heard a very colorful expression come from my right, most likely originating from an oil painting of a raunchy looking man.

“Now,” he began again. “I want the two of you to scrub every one of these paintings clean. Then, you can start on the floors and walls.” Filch sneered at us before producing two very small brushes that looked suspiciously grimy. I suppressed a horrified expression I was sure that would show if I let myself. Instead, I snuck a glance at Potter; he looked infuriatingly calm about the whole thing. I really wish I could hurt him right now. Stupid Gryffindors, they always have to make everything so complicated. We could have been simply scrubbing some cauldrons or dusting the library but instead we get stuck cleaning portraits of vulgar old hags. It was going to be a long night.

Filch had already left, I could hear his delighted murmuring retreating down the hall. I almost called him back, I did not want to be stuck alone here with an egotistical Gryffindor half the night, even if it did mean I would have to spend it instead with the said Gryffindor and a greasy old caretaker who talked to a cat.

“Well, let’s get started then,” I heard Potter say. He was holding out one of the brushes to me that I took hesitantly. Potter headed towards a painting on the left side of the hall, which was really only about two meters across from the one I was starting at.

“Right,” I said to myself, turning around to face the man who had cursed at us only a moment before. I took a moment to study the face of the man in the painting carefully, there were scars crisscrossing across his right cheekbone and his eye right above them was considerably smaller than the other. It was squinted, as if he could not see well out of it because the sun was blinding him. The other eye was still its rightful shape though along with the left side of his face. The only other markings on his face were wrinkles and liver spots. His face though, even it was peaceful now was lined with a sneer and curled lip. The man’s startlingly blue eyes followed me as I approached timidly.

Swallowing a burning sensation in the back of my throat I touched the brush gently to the canvass. A split second later a pained howl raced through the hall. It took me almost a full minute to realize that it was coming from the old man in the painting. I tore the brush away with wide eyes, staring at the man.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING, YOU LITTLE MISCREANT?” his voice screeched.

“I—I’m terribly sor—” I faltered.

“SORRY? YOU’RE SORRY?” he thundered. “LISTEN HERE, I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING BUT IF I EVER CATCH YOU TRYING TO TOUC THAT FILTHY THING TO MY FACE EVER AGAIN WHY I’LL---“

I never found out what he would do to me because an unearthly shriek drowned out his yelling. My eardrums were pounding painfully as the sounds clashed in the air. I reached up to cover them as I turned around to see that Potter was having similar troubles with the person in the portrait he had started on. Catching my eye, he motioned me down the hall.

I followed behind him in silence as he sprinted down the hallway to an empty room. When I finally reached the room, panting and out of breath, I saw Potter sitting clumsily atop one of the desks.

The yelling that filtered in from the hall was diminished slightly, so I could hear myself thinking once more. I took a deep breath, willing my heart to stop jumping like some crazy marathon runner.

“That complicates things a bit, wouldn’t you say?” Potter asked in a bright voice. I once again found myself glaring at the boy. Honestly, we had just been shrieked at by the rudest looking paintings I’ve ever seen in Hogwarts and he thinks it just ‘complicated things a bit.’

“You think?” I snapped.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he shot back.

“Well, it’s your fault we’re in this hallway instead of someplace a bit…more sanitary.”

“Is not. Filch would have brought us here anyways, he’s too uncreative to think of something like this that fast. He was just trying to come across more intimidating. It’s a scare tactic.”

“Well, you should know, I guess.”

He raised his eyebrows at me in question. I simply stared at the wall past him, concentrating on the now ebbing shouts from the hallway. An uncomfortable silence fell over us as I stubbornly stared at the wall, ignoring him.

After a long while, I felt myself grow tired of the little checks on the wall and glance around the cramped classroom. It had five or six desks randomly placed throughout the room. Only one of them was facing the chalkboard, which had faded chalk dust smeared across it and fingerprints on the edges. The other desks were all facing in different directions. One was facing the small-blackened window another was facing the door. There were no chairs in the room at all, just the dusty old desks and chalkboard. Odd.

“So…now what?” I said after I got bored of the unusual classroom. I looked to him questionably.

“Well—we don’t have our wands, obviously,” he started. That much was very apparent, as Filch had taken them up right after his lovely little threat. “So, I guess we’ll have to ignore the yelling until we get a few of the paintings done. Just scrape at them really quick and maybe it won’t be so bad.”

“That’s your brilliant plan?” I stared at him. Aren’t Gryffindors supposed to be good at making up plans? “Scrape at them and pray they might not yell as loud?”

“Well, I don’t hear you piping up with any expertise on the matter, Evans.” His voice was irritable and his eyes flashed at me.

“Fine, you’re right. Let’s just scrape at them,” I spat at him before throwing my hands up in mock defeat and storming from the room back to the painting of the old man.

I took the brush from where I had dropped it and planted it about a millimeter away from the canvass. Taking a deep breath, I began to scrape it across the ancient fabric, doing my best to block out the unearthly shouting of some rather vivid sayings. I cringed as another’s soon joined the man’s cries; undoubtedly the one Potter was scraping at. Oh, how I wish he would burn at times like these.

Soon enough, I moved on to the next painting, adding to the din a wanton-looking woman’s shrieks. I stopped several times when she started to tell in cringing detail her exploits of when she was living in a dangerously provocative voice. I can honestly say I never repeated any of her words to me that night to another soul.

After quite a while, between Potter and myself we had covered nearly half the hall—and partially lost our hearing in the process.

I couldn’t even make out the own pounding of my lobes anymore above the racket that the musty old portraits made.

After a particularly nasty comment about the shade of my hair (which I was still very touchy about), I threw down the brush in disgust and headed to the empty classroom again. At least those infernal paintings couldn’t completely deafen me with their shouts in there.

Shortly after I sat down and buried my face in my arms I heard the door open. I didn’t even bother to look up. I knew it was Potter, who else would it be?

“What?” My voice was muffled through my arms, but I was sure he heard me.

“Tired, already? We’re barely half-done, Evans,” Potter said after a moment. His voice had that teasing lilt in it again, I really hated it when he talked like that.

I shifted a bit, just enough so I could send a healthy glare in his direction.

“Don’t remind me,” I said bitterly. “I don’t think this night will ever end.”

“Look on the bright side, it’s only—“ he looked out the window, squinting through the grime to see something. “About ten o’clock. We’ve been here for three hours. That means we’ll be out of here by one.”

I let my head back down on the desk, banging it for good measure.

“That’s the bright side?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Okay, well maybe not bright, but it could be worse.” He shrugged. “Hey---I have an idea, you up for a little break?”

“Break?” I asked suspiciously.

“We could head down to the kitchens for a late night snack and then come back up here to finish. It wouldn’t take long.”

“No,” I said flatly. I did not need another detention, thank you very much.

“Oh, come on, Evans, live a little,” he pleaded. “Besides, even if you don’t go, I’ll go without you and if one of us gets in trouble, the other will too. You know that’s true.”

I really, really hated Potter when he was right.

I felt my eyes flash at him and set my best scowl on my face even though I felt a slight smile itching. I had always liked a good argument, it was one of the only things besides books I had in common with my House.

“Fine,” I hissed. “But if we do get in trouble, I will never speak to you again.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Now for my lovely, lovely reviewers:

Sweetkiwi456 – teehee I love the trees bit, that came from a class I took, you should see my notes, my mind was only half listening and I was thinking about this story the whole time while she was talking about her dead husband and trees and well—never let my imagination loose on random ideas like that…

Anonymous – my notes on lily’s house at very top of page* yes it is sort of an AU angle but come to think of it all fics are because none of it honestly happens, anything that isn’t written my JKR herself is AU, anyways thanks for the review, hope to hear from you again!

Draco’s Gurl – I’m hoping that’s good, *eyes shift* lots of people didn’t review but his idea started screaming at me after a few cans of dr. pepper and a marathon of dave the barbarian:-D

Anonymous – again my notes on lily up top* I hope you like the detention so far, its not the best, most creative but it drab either, next chapter shall be very funny though *smile*

Shortcake – ahh…well, I told you that you would be, see I am psychic…*ohhhh* behold my mystic powers! I even know what’ll happen at the end of the story…oh wait that’s because I’m writing it..oops lol

Anonymous3 – numbers are fun:-D I’m glad you’re reading! Hope to see your number again! Lol

Eschiva- everyone wishes ms. Henson would believe it…well apparating may be impossible as well as turning into a tree but we can paint you brown, dye your hair green and stick some leaves in it and put you in a box addressed for leavesden studios, hey it worked with that one guy…except he got sent to jail for it…hummm

Faerie’s Masquerade – I’m sorry to disappoint you but no zoe here. Thanks for reviewing anyways!

Anonymous – no forest for lily and james this time I’m afraid…but maybe someday, something to chew on…ah well thanks for reviewing!

Okay, now I want lots and lots of support for this chapter or I may feel unloved and all…and I have to know does anyone want to know what the lady in the second painting said to Lily? *raises eyebrow* huh huh? Hahahahaha *evil laugh* yeah…I thought not, I’ll keep it to myself then.

Next chapter: lily or james POV? I’m leaning towards james but what do y’all want?