FOREWORDS
This was a FUN chapter to write. Why? Because it's all about Sirius baby! So for all you Pensieve Padfoot lovers out there, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
* * *
~ A Sirius Perspective ~
By: Oy! Angelina
Beta by: jkit10
* * *
Unlike some people, I'm a morning person.
Well actually, I'm a morning, afternoon, evening, and a "dear Merlin hasn't he worn himself out yet?" person but I just try to keep my spirits up.
Some mornings I like to wake up before the rest of the chaps I share a room with and crawl into their beds, effectively cuddling with them and waiting for them to wake up and notice.
To day I selected my best mate in the whole wide world James Potter to have the honor of spooning with me.
It took him five minutes and two "mm Lily's" to wake up and kick me onto the floor bellowing something I couldn't hear over my own laughter. This woke up Remus and Peter who were muffling their own laughter with their pillows as James and I carried on like this a bit more.
Still, James is having fun with it.
I felt horrible about neglecting our friendship earlier this week and allowing him to sulk off and brood on the death of his family because I couldn't be bothered enough to pull my head out of my arse long enough to notice this. I've been trying to make up for it without over doing it. I've committed myself mostly to the types of jokes that allows James to yell at me while laughing about it. This way he's venting some of his frustrations while having a good time. Not to say I'm incapable of offering sound and sympathetic support if my friends, but my forte has always been rooted in getting people to laugh off their troubles than it has been talking them through it.
That's what we have Remus and his infinite wisdom for just as we have Peter to . . .
. . .
. . .Well I imagine we'll want snacks now and again.
Once we've finished in waking up all of the boys' dorms most likely we head off towards the bath and get ourselves in proper order for the day ahead. A casual attire matches our casual mood seeing as it's Saturday and we collect the girls to head off to breakfast.
An interesting thing I've picked up on with James and Lily is they always great one another like it's been ages since they've last set eyes on the other. It's never that deep or showy couple work where they're exchanging deep kisses or have to constantly be in bodily contact. Far more subtle forces are at work with those two.
Like how they always speak to each other in these even tones through unfaltering smiles. Eyes constantly meeting and lingering as if to express something far deeper than words could give credit to. The way James will push Lily's hair off her face or how Lily will take James's glasses off his face to polish up the lens. It's the little ways they take care of one another like that which make me believe that two of my closest friends have found true love in the other.
Its little things like that which make me wonder if I'll ever know something so natural and fulfilling.
Bully to anyone who doesn't find themselves a bit jealous over sodding soulmates finding each other while you're still working out how to maneuver a bra one-handed. Not that I'm not happy for James but lets just say I wouldn't be broken up over the idea of making him shoot tea through his nasal cavity this morning after a precisely delivered punch line.
* * *
Breakfast has always been the most important meal of the day in my opinion. Without large portions of food smothered in syrup I imagine I wouldn't have the energy needed to be nearly as obnoxious as I usually set out to be.
"So what's the plot for today?" I question as I add both sugar cubes and honey to my morning tea.
"We probably should study up for finals," Lily recommended.
Its comments like that which make me somewhat grateful things never developed beyond a friendship between me and Lily.
"Well I've got a practice scheduled for the House team in the early afternoon so if you had something in mind specifically, we'll have to do it either before or after," James announced to either myself or Lily, I wasn't too clear on whom exactly.
"I don't really care what we're up to so long as we're all together," I express with lingering guilt from my prior neglect.
"Weathers not too shabby," Peter pointed out, "we could go out by the lake as a group."
"Ha! Last time we all did that Lily bloodied James's nose," Arabella said reminiscently, before turning to me, "and you and I were plotting on how to snatch them up for ourselves."
Arabella and I share a hearty chuckle over our previous ploys with Peter, Lily, and James carrying on with us. I notice Remus smiling but he doesn't seem nearly as amused as the lot of us. I guess he didn't find it to be particularly funny because Arabella was chasing after James and the whole thing was a mess in general still Remus has been a little. . .touchy as of late.
Since my utter dropping of the quaffle with James and what was troubling him I've made a deliberate point to keep myself far more attentive of the moods of those around me and Remus was the first to strike me as behaving a bit odd. He's had a shorter temper than usual, been acting more secretive than I've known him to be along with stirring up things with various boys around school.
While this is all in a days work for me I expect better of Moony.
If I had to label it, I'd say Remus was acting threatened. I'd ask him what was provoking it but I know exactly what it is.
Arabella Figg.
Not that she's doing anything purposefully, mind you, it's just the sordid repercussion of being a chap's steady when he's mad about her. Couples are always territorial. While Lestrange and Tudor love to bring their refined psychotic undertones to this notion, Lily and James have managed a bit healthier display of this tendency.
James gets bothered when he catches some bloke looking Lily up and down. Most of the time he just likes to laugh it off as being flattered that he'd dating someone so desired. This is almost always Lily's reaction to such things also. In other cases James'll usually content himself with a healthy amount of glaring and mouthing things that shouldn't said aloud if he thinks they're being too much of an overt prat about it. I haven't heard any girls saying particularly vulgar things about James in front of Lily but I can say with a fair amount of certainty that I'd probably join in for the lark of it all.
Well, as I more or less said already, I'd be more concerned about a moody Moony if he wasn't very much normal at the moment.
"So our we settled on the lake then?" Peter pressed earnestly.
"That sounds like jolly fun to me," I say without the enthusiasm Peter was probably hoping for, "it's something to do at least."
Peter had this compulsion about seeking other people's approval that I really didn't quite grasp at times. I mean, I understand why people want other people to approve of them but Peter makes it out to be some sort of chore. It's not like you can force people to like you let alone beg and plead with them to. I've attempted to share this insight with Peter over the years to try and get him to roll more with a punches life has a tendency of throwing but he's proven stubbornly resistant to my advice on the subject.
I'd like to blame his mother for this because the woman is foul about coddling him but that might inspire Peter to blame my mother for some of my own failings. That, for the record, simply isn't tolerated and the last "person" to make a comment about my mother lost an "eye".
Frosty bastard.
Still sometimes I think Peter ignores me simply because I'm the one who said it over Prongs or Moony.
Such a keen grasp of credible sources is quality I've always respected in Peter.
"So I guess the question is are we meeting up before or after Quidditch Practice?" James chewed his eggs between words.
"How about after?" Remus requested, "Arabella and I need to put the final touches on our rough draft for Heilsing's essay so we were going to head to the Library and cross reference our sources to be sure they were right."
"Quite so," Arabella nodded vigorously, "hate to have all sorts of points and things taken off from simple laziness. And we'll just have to do it over then anyway."
"That's very responsible of the both of you," Lily praised warmly.
"Down right boring if you ask me," Peter applied some jam to a square of toast.
James says nothing but has an odd smile playing on his lips that he tries to mask with a more determined chewing of eggs.
Alright now, Lily's just naïve and Peter's perfectly clueless. Those two have no idea that Remus and Arabella are speaking in the oh-so cryptic code that it takes a keen ear and randy mind to read between the lines of. What was really said was this:
~ * ~
"How about after?" Remus requested, "Arabella and I need to put the --------- touches on ---- rough ---------------------------------- so we were going to head to [Undisclosed Locale] -------------------------------- to be sure they were right."
"Quite so," Arabella nodded vigorously, "------ to have all sorts ------------------ things taken off --------------------------. And we'll just have to do it over -------------------."
~ * ~
Go on.
Tell me I'm wrong.
"Sounds like you both have plans," I decide while rolling up some bacon and toast and rising from the table, "I guess I'll just hunt you lot out later on then."
"If you get bored, you can show up for practice and tell us how we look," James offered, "Same invitation to all of you. I need all the eyes I can to help me finding any holes in our plays. I don't intend to get throttled by Ravenclaw."
"'Teams' aren't spelled with an 'I' James," Lily teased
"No but if you play ever so slightly with the spelling you do get 'James'," James countered with a crisp grin. Lily shook her red hair before kissing James on the cheek and slipping her hand into his.
I've said it before and I'll say it always.
That pair is smashing together.
"I'll see you all a bit later then," I wave off.
"Hold on a tick," Peter protected, "why can't you and I carry on a bit without them since everyone else is busy?"
I nod towards the Slytherin table without bothering to look.
"Because I promised Winifred that we'd glance over our own project if a free moment came up today," I explain, "might as well get it done with so I won't have to think about it for the rest of the day."
Unlike Arabella and Remus this isn't a pretense for something more hands-on in the pursuit of understanding anatomy. Mostly this is just my excuse to trade a few quips with the girl before devoting a morning to singing the floor of the dorms with Peter and a few rounds of Spark in the Dark. Still I spy and opportunity for fun as I turn to the couple in question.
"So I guess we'll probably see you both at the Library later on then?" I say in as smooth and unassuming tone I can manage.
I'm rewards with a nervous glance between Arabella and Remus.
"Sure…" Remus said carefully.
"Oh actually, we probably won't because I think we did all the written stuff. Just verbal conformation and the like," I stop making Remus and Arabella sweat as I saunter off, "see you blokes on the Pitch then."
* * *
Finishing off the breakfast I'd grabbed I notice I'm not too alone in the corridors as move through them since most people seem to be finishing up with breakfast. I spy Winifred up the hall chatting about something with a Hufflepuff named Rosier.
From where I'm standing it's pretty evident that Rosier's keen on Winifred. Pity for him he doesn't have all that much of a shot with her because of one simple fact.
Rosier's a nice chap.
Now I'm not advocating that men should go around treating women like something you'd scrape off a dungeon floor nor do I practice anything remotely similar to it. The thing of it is a bloke needs a large measure of confidence and a bit of an edge to impress most women. Rosier does not appear to possess either of these qualities which makes his odds at impressing a cool customer like Win long ones at best.
Walking straight up I was never one to feel embarrassed about injecting myself into the middle of a conversation.
"Oi Rosier, Wilkes," I keep it formal so people don't take my presence the wrong way.
It doesn't seem to help as Rosier's lime colored eyes are on me now.
"Morning Black," Rosier greets stiffly, obviously waiting for me to explain my place there.
"Mind if I steal my partner for a minute?" I smile politely at the fair featured boy.
"I'll talk to you later, Rosier," Winifred graciously brushes the boy off as we take to strolling up the hall. I shrug with an apologetic expression that Rosier in no way returns.
Now that was a dirty look!
Maybe I should rethink that "nice guy" thing.
"Looks like you got yourself an admirer," I comment without so bothering to look at Rosier as soon as we're a fair distance away.
"Possibly," Winifred shrugged with her usual indifference, "I think Rosier's mostly being nice so I don't think much of it."
What did I tell you?
"You must have them lining up if you can afford to be so choosy," I tease.
"I've got you following in step don't I?" Winifred smirked.
"You certainly seem to," I can't find much of an argument against this.
Winifred takes to leaning against a ledge overlooking the courtyard and the spring weather wafting in from it. I join her as the inaudible dialogues of our peers vibrate around us from their spots below.
"Still, single life must suit you," I keep on the subject, "I can't really recall seeing you about with another bloke aside from Snape and it's not like anything was going on there."
"Why do assume that?" she asks with a curious hint to her voice.
"Because you're blood relations," I reply obviously.
"Through our great-grandfathers," Winifred clarified, "that's barely an 8th of the same blood in our veins. Considering there are pureblood wizards still marrying their first cousins in order to keep all their magic and resources within their line, I'd venture to say you'd find more people accepting of such a pairing than not. After all practically every Wizarding family has married into every other Wizarding family at this point."
Winifred flashed me a quick smile as she added onto the conversation that was going to turn me off from lunch.
"Honestly, I'd expect this sort of ignorant logic from a Muggle-born, Sirius, but you're a pureblood thoroughbred yourself."
"Yeah well my parents weren't cousins, half-siblings, or whatever," I state firmly, "I can tell you right now that the Blacks don't set out to marry for blood like some of these other families. We just tend to settle down with other established Witches and Wizards because those are the circles we run in, but it's not like anyone would be bothered with someone marrying a Muggle-Born or even a Muggle if it suited us."
I hear myself then ask a question that I hope my stomach won't respond violently to with a spray of bile.
"So were you and Snape ever. . ." I search for a word that won't make me retch on the pronunciation of it, ". . .involved?"
Winifred stifled a laugh before glancing at me with her dark eyes and a very sly expression.
"What do you think?" Winifred challenged.
"I don't," I inform her, "keeps the night terrors at bay."
"So do I get to ask you intrusive questions about your personal life?" Winifred chewed on the words as though she could actually cut them on her teeth.
There's always something sexy about a girl who makes it sound as though she's playing with a language like a cat plays with it's food.
"Ask away," I urge, "I have no shame. . .or is it pride. . .I always get muddled on that part."
"I think it's the latter," Winifred offers up helpfully, "so how many girls in this school have you snogged yet?"
"It would be a short list if you asked me who I haven't," I reply.
Winifred laughs at this. The really tragic part is I'm being pretty forthright on that estimate.
"I've had more than a few flings," I continue on being purposefully vague, "none of them really ended up serious though. And anytime I try for something more than a friends with benefits arrangement it doesn't end in my favor."
"I guess that's just the story of both our lives," Winifred nodded in an almost sympathetic way, "We're so similar and different all in the same stroke. It's like you need to be all sorts of different perspectives of Sirius just to no one will be disappointed. The catch is no one will be satisfied either because they're never getting more than a part of you."
I hear what Winifred says and I wonder how true it is. Am I really trying to impress everyone so much that I'm not really doing the job for anyone except for maybe James, Remus, Peter, and possibly Winifred. She must catch my thoughtful look because Winifred then adds on.
"Of course I put so much effort into be removed from it all that anyone who attempts to grab hold of me catching nothing more than smoke on the wind," Winifred said to show that she wasn't just picking on me.
"I don't think you're like that," I say honestly, "you keep to yourself but your as tangible as anyone else. People just need to know the parts of you that are real. The parts that are grounded in you like your cello playing or gardening or your love of quidditch."
I mean that too. Win's a clever girl, maybe not in the book sense like Lily or Millicent but she's not thick in the least. She's also got a strong character and a whole lot of little things that make her an interesting and exciting person to know.
"I know, but I still don't have a record of dating anymore solid than you," Winifred confessed though she didn't look all that put out by it.
"Why is that?" I ask with interest.
"I guess I was never a big fan of the intimacy thing," Winifred shrugged, "you know the part where you're supposed to talk and let people into your life. I like my privacy. I like my secrets."
"You seem fine when your with me," I point out.
"Yes, but I'm also not spilling every little detail of my life out before you either," Winifred stated.
Although I am very curious as to what she could possibly have hidden that she doesn't think people would want to know about or understand, I don't bother asking.
I know she wouldn't tell e even if I did.
"So what do you do then? Ensnare men with your wiles, use them, and discard them once you've had your fill?" I say as a bid to lighten the mood.
"They don't seem to mind," Winifred answers me in a way that I can't be entirely certain of whether she's joking or not. "Does that bother you?"
"Only in the sense of that leaves me to wonder why you never thought to use me," I pout while only half jesting.
Hey a bloke has feelings and I always considered myself to be something of a catch for any girl thank you.
"Well Severus would have imploded," Winifred said as though this were somehow a bad thing, "and considering what happened with Florcence. . ."
I gape while blinking.
Given the circumstances I think this was the cleverest thing I could have managed at the moment.
"I. . .I didn't know you'd heard about that," I confess, still thrown for a loop.
"I have my sources and it's in their better interests to be reliable," Winifred vaguely divulged.
The thing to understand about the whole mess with myself, Florence Copia, and Snape is that virtually the only people who know about it is myself, Florence Copia, and Snape. The whole scene was just too wonky for me to want to admit to past my best friends and, considering Copia was with Snape before me it didn't speak very well on my behalf. Snape wasn't bragging because he wasn't the type to volunteer personal information about himself, particularly the kind that proves he lost out to me. And as selfish and clueless as Copia could be even she had enough sense to realize that this was one of those things best left unsaid.
Thus this little incident isn't exactly public domain.
Still, this doesn't explain why Winifred is still talking to me if she knows about all this. After all, as it stands, I basically was fooling around with her beloved cousin's girlfriend at the time and was a major contributing factor in the dissolving of their relationship.
"So why aren't you hexing me blind over the whole thing?" I wonder aloud.
"I have it on good authority that Florence was tugging on both your and Severus's strings," Winifred explained, "and it's in their better interest to be reliable as well on this."
I feel myself relax a bit before cracking a smile.
"So why aren't you hexing Florence blind?" I wonder aloud some more.
"I figured I'd give myself a present for my birthday," Winifred smiled a bit.
It occurs to me I have no idea what day that would happen to be.
"When's that?"
"April Twenty-ninth," Winifred reported in her usual blasé tone.
I quickly examine my concept of time.
"That's only three days from now," I realize, "why didn't you mention anything before now?"
"Because I don't particularly like my birthdays," Winifred said softly.
"Why?"
"Because I don't," she says like the stubborn girl she is.
"Alright, if I get you a grand gift for the occasion will you tell me why you don't like your birthday?" I barter for information.
"Depends on the present," Winifred consented.
"It's a deal then."
I extend my hand to shake on it. Winifred accepts the gesture. Her skin feels cool and soft, like the petals of a flower. The kind of pleasant texture that makes one reluctant to let go.
Still, I do.
"Well, I have to go and scramble to get you a last minute present," I announce as I push myself from the ledge, "but I'll see you tomorrow."
"Don't put yourself out over it," Winifred shrugged.
"Hey, I'd bend over backwards for a friend if I thought it would give them some cheer," I admit with an extraordinarily goofy grin, "take care."
"You too," Winifred extends as we break off from one another.
Heading back to Gryffindor Tower, I determine I should have enough time to use one of the passages over into Hogsmeade, pick out a gift, and be back before Quidditch practice is over. I hope that if I show up dressed in something other than my school uniform no one will question my presence but I'll bring James's cloak along just to be safe. If all else fails I can just pick out something and leave the money on the counter without anyone to actually see my purchase.
I'm sure they have stranger things happen in Hogsmeade anyway.
* * *
Now there are a few ways over to Hogsmeade. One involves a rampaging tree that will beat me silly if I get a toe too close to it…not to mention it's in broad daylight for anyone to see. Another involves a tunnel that James, Peter, Remus, and I decided long ago looks like it's about to cave in and compelled us to vow never to tread in there on our own. The others we suspect Filch might know about so we don't usually risk using them.
The last one involves a witch statue in a corridor and a magical word.
Problem is anyone could stumble along while you're messing about with passwords and hidden passages and us Marauders like to keep our secrets thank you very much.
So naturally this is where I run into Snape.
I hug the invisibility cloak over my own so he won't notice it. The witch statue if just a few paces off but I don't even dare to look at it while Snape is sharing the same air as me. My intent was to keep on walking, take the first fork off the hallway and double back after a few minutes. I also intended not to say a single thing to Snape while doing this.
I did!
Of course that didn't stop him. . .
"I'm curious about something Black," Snape spoke as we passed shoulders, turning towards me. I stop and glare halfway in his direction.
"It's called shampoo. Apply it to your hair when wet then rinse it out once you've got a fair lather going," I take a guess at his inquiry.
Snape sneers.
I smile.
"Actually I was curious to know when your confinement to your House dormitory came to an end," Snape's tone flickered between bitter and amused, "I was under the impression you were supposed to spend all your spare moments away from those you would harm as a consequence of your existence."
Oh Merlin is he still on about that Whomping Willow thing?
I have a confession I'd never utter aloud on this topic, but I really don't feel any guilt about what happened.
At least not concerning Snape.
Don't get me wrong. It's not that I wanted him dead or anything he'd try to sell everyone else on if they'd let him, but I just don't feel the same sickness and responsibility for Snape's part that night as I do for everyone else. In a way, I almost think he deserved something bad to happen to him. Some sort to of karma to wander up and make him rethink his usual horrible nature.
I know, these aren't nice thoughts for me to have.
That's why they're just thoughts.
"McGonagall seems to think that I'm not much of a menace," I point out as a trump to his loftiness before a smirk meets my lips.
"Winifred doesn't seem to think I'm much of a menace either. . ."
Okay, low-blow I admit it, but this is git-face we're talking about. I just love to get under his skin and I know that dropping his cousin's name is a way to do that. Hell, I'd be tempted to kiss her right in front of him just to see the look on his face afterwards.
That certainly would be tempting. . .
Snape takes a step closer to me. I feel myself silently hoping that the Slytherin prefect will take a swing at me so I'll have an excuse to thrash him.
This tends to happen whenever Snape and I are forced to interact.
"Well maybe she'll see things differently once you're feeding her to some monster," Snape challenged me with everything up to and including his eyes.
Oh that did it.
"That monster is my friend," I say through clenched teeth. The absolute last thing I'm going to let that vampire bat think he can do is slander my friends in front of me.
"And Winifred is my family," Snape reminded me of something I do my best to forget about, "the last thing she needs is to be socializing with an arrogant fool who is capable of cold-blooded acts."
"Does that mean you won't be hanging about her anymore?" I throw his words back at him.
Snape glares hard at me before an unpleasant smile dominates his features.
"It just occurred to me Black. . ." Snape began coolly, ". . .that Winifred doesn't know about New Years."
I pause in every motion and thought at this.
Winifred doesn't know about New Years or how "I almost killed her favorite cousin" along with the other stupid things I did that night.
Winifred was in no way privy to my "finest hour" and I would very much like to keep it that way.
"She wouldn't," I speak slowly, "Winifred wasn't there and those who were are supposed to keep it on the mum to everyone else by Dumbledore's request."
"As I recall, I was only specifically asked not to share Lupin's secret," Snape looked very much like a wanker as he spoke, "I can omit enough details of the evening and still ensure that Winifred probably won't even speak to you to work on your assignment for Defense Against the Dark Arts."
I'd like to tell Snape he can't do that but, in truth, I'm not sure that's actually the case. I feel my jaw along with every other joint in my body lock up as I stare at him. I am in no way fond of the idea of Snape having some sensitive information to lord over my head.
"Hmm, it's odd to be spared your usual 'witty' retorts Black. Have I struck a nerve?" Snape presses on with a smug grin.
"Say whatever you need to say to Winifred," I hiss out, "of course I have to wonder why you haven't mentioned it to her before. I doubt you'd skip an opportunity to drag my name through the mud."
I refuse to let Snape think he has any power over me and I certainly won't beg him not to say anything to Winifred.
"As if you require my assistance," Snape scoffed. "No, Black, the only reason I haven't bothered Winifred with the horror your capable of is because I didn't need to worry her with what you might attempt upon me. Likewise she was more or less ambivalent to you so it's not as though she was in danger herself. But seeing as how close you two are becoming. . ."
"Sod off on whatever you're about to insinuate!" I snap irritably.
". . .it's only fair to warn her of what she might be heading into with her eyes shut," Snape continued on as though I hadn't spoke at all.
"Winifred and I are just friends," I repeat myself for the hundredth time to the hundredth person.
"Why? Is she not good enough for you?" Snape badgers me in an obvious effort to get my blood to boil. "It can't be because she's a Slytherin because we both know that's never bothered you before. And the fact she's close to me is another fact that gives you little concern. . ."
"This about Florence then?" I demand, sensing an old argument.
"This is just about you and I, Black, and our colorful history together," Snape glowered one last time before skulking off and calling behind, "fair warning, Black. I catch you prowling about Winifred beyond that of a study partner and I'll suddenly become very nostalgic with her."
I let him walk off without saying anything and head towards the witch statue so I can buy the prat's cousin a birthday gift.
* * *
I make it out to the quidditch stadium just as practice finished up. Remus, and Peter were joining James and the rest of the team on the pitch.
"Where have you been?" Peter asked in a particularly accusing tone.
"I felt like some butterbeer so I went to Hogsmeade and grabbed some for the lot of us," I reply, "I thought it would make for a nice treat after practice."
It's not a lie because I DID get the butterbeer after all.
"So where are the rest of the girls?" I question as I realize that the only one present in our Year was Cassidy Kinkade but that was expected since she was on the team.
"Apparently they didn't find watching James call redundant plays to be the height of entertainment," Remus joked, "they cleared off a half hour into it and said they'd meet us later in the commons."
"Shouldn't you be getting in on all the hair braiding Cass?" I tease the team Beater.
"Yer going the right way fer a chipped molar, Black," Cassidy shot back with a smirk.
Cassidy's a grand girl, really fond of her. She's as tough as dragon's hide and shows people that even a witch can mean business. I certainly wouldn't pick a fight with her. I personally think it's posh that she's such a tomboy even though not everyone else at Hogwarts seems to appreciate her refusal to embrace the more feminine whiles of life.
Ignorant sods. Who says every lass needs pretty pointy hats and tones of make-up caking her face?
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the ever enthusiastic Bill Weasley bounding towards the rest of up with a proud expression painted across his face.
"I've got the balls for quidditch!" Bill announced proudly to the group as he ran up to meet us.
That was about when everyone stopped whatever it was they were saying or doing so they could stare at the 2nd Year trying to figure out if he had said what he was heard him say.
I knew I had a manic grin on my face and I simply didn't care.
Bill raised an eyebrow to the lot of us.
"What? I put the quaffle, bludgers, and snitch back in the box and left it in the equipment shed," Bill explained to us.
"Ohhh. . ." we all nod along with this. A few people are giving off a fair blush at the moment while most of the older boys like myself and the other Marauders are indulging in embarrassed laughter. Young Weasley doesn't see to follow and we're all content to leave it at that.
Randy minds in this crowd eh?
"So how about we give me a chance to shower up and then see about those butterbeers?" James questioned while patting me on the back.
"Sure, we can still hang about the lake if you guys care to," I shrug staring up into the blue sky, "lovely day."
"Sounds good," Peter says enthusiastically about his own plan.
* * *
As we set out two, the lot of Gryffindor team and they're groupies (i.e. myself, Remus, Peter, and Bill Weasley) returned to the dorms. I passed out a butterbeer to the group fro the case I brought back while James cleaned himself up. The girls were in the middle of some ritual involving beauty treatments or some other girly thing I have no interest in so they declined following us out to the lake.
That's alright, been a while since it's been just us gents.
Out at the lake, each with a butterbeer we smuggled under our cloaks, I suggested we climb our way up into a tree just so nobody would notice us straight off with the Hogsmeade contraband if they so happened by. Perched up on the thickest branches we could find we carried on like we used to before 6th Year.
Not that I'm knocking it entirely but Peter had been right. Things had changed from before. Remus and James were practically inseparable from their respective girls, which is fine since I adore both Lily and Arabella but it does create a bit of a rift. This has left myself and Peter to largely find out own things to do without them. I can always keep myself occupied but sometimes I wonder if Peter gets a bit lonely.
Maybe I should make more of an effort to hang about with him.
"So what are we going to do with out summer?" Remus asked as he watched a few leaves spiral towards the ground below.
"We have to see the Quidditch cup most definitely," I interject, "my mum and dad never miss a playoff and Acontiae's best friend, Bertha Jorkins, is always good about getting our friends extra tickets."
"You spending the break with the Longbottoms or are you opening up your house for the season," Peter asked James softly.
"I hadn't really thought about it," James admitted, "I don't see much of a point in me staying at the estate by myself."
"Well I'll move in with you," Peter offered with that desperate hint he got to his voice whenever he thought about spending any great length of time with his mum.
"Yeah and you could have Lily over to keep you company. Play a bit of house?" I say this without it entirely sounding like a joke.
"Oh I'm SURE I can sell her parents on THAT!" James laughed, "'Pardon me, Mr. and Mrs. Evans but would you mind terribly if your seventeen year old daughter and I shacked up a bit?' Get on with yourself, Padfoot I doubt Lily will be over at my house for the summer!"
Of course then James paused and got that odd sort of look he gets whenever something particularly clever occurred to him.
Needless to say I'll be curious to see how this plays out later on.
I might have commented on James's wily look if a plump screech owl didn't come howling into the branches of the tree and land itself right next to Peter, startling him to the point that he actually tumbled about seven feet down to the ground below us. James, Remus, and I peered down at him to see if he was alright. From the looks of his deep, pink complexion in response to the chorus of laughter and accusing expression directed at me I wager the worst thing injured on Peter was his pride. Turning my attention back to the bird which had been responsible for Peter's plummet, I notice it was apparently making a deliver to me.
Hmm, maybe I should feel a bit more responsible for Peter falling on his arse consider I had suggested we climb up in the tree and an Owl seeking me out startled him from it.
It seems that the bird was bringing me a bouquet of sweet scented white flowers that's accompanied with a note. Thanking the bird for its trouble I ignore the questioning looks of my mates to start reading the note. I feel the trunk of the tree begin to sway a bit as Peter begins to reclimb the length of the tree and keep a hand on a thick branch next to me so I don't repeat his prior accident.
~ * ~
To Sirius:
Please do me the courtesy of meeting me at Greenhouse Three just before sunset. I would very much like to confess these feelings overwhelming me then and see where we go from here.
- W.W
~ * ~
"W.W.?"
Winifred Wilkes.
As I try my best to recall anyone else I might know with the initials WW I consider the damning evidence of the flower attachment. Not that it was entirely unique onto Winifred to send a chap flowers, I've gotten a few now and again. The thing is, most girls figure that lads don't really appreciate receiving flowers as much as they do so I'm far more accustom to sweets or cute stuffed toys. Winifred has a habit of sending out flowers to people that have some ironic meaning attached to them.
Trouble is I'm not entirely sure as to what type of flower these are and even if I did it's not like I'd know the meaning of them off hand.
I better talk to someone who might have a clue.
Still the question of the moment is about how I wonder what got Winifred off and running like this. Maybe it was that conversation we had about our respective practices in dating. Perhaps she thought I was giving off a hint about us that I wasn't actually giving.
Right?
"So what was so BLOODY IMPORTANT that I had to get knocked clean to the ground for it?" Peter huffed and puffed his way up the branches. Moony helped to steady Wormtail's climb by guiding him along under the arm.
"More of Sirius's fans paying their respects," Remus nodded to the flowers across my lap.
I try to keep an overtly flattered smile from pulling across my face as I fold up the note. The last thing I need is for my
"So who's the admirer this time?" James asked with a gesture to the note in my hand.
"Oh I'm sorry that's privileged information," I inform.
"Since when?" Remus laughed.
"Yeah! You're always so quick to brag about how many people love precious old you," Peter chimed in while catching his breath.
"Well, I've grown as a person this year," I insist with a lopsided grin, "I feel as though I've become more worldly than the lad you once knew and this Sirius C. Black is far more modest in his affairs with the fairer sex."
I feel three sets of eyes studying me as though I had just spoken in a strange tongue. They exchange curious looks before turning back to me.
"Show of hand for all in favor of stealing the note from him," James called as he, Remus, and Peter shot their hands in the air.
While my entrances are always fashionable I like to make my exits grand.
Shooting my hand out I snatch the spectacles off James's face and take them along with myself, my note, and my flowers as I leap clean out of the tree.
"DIRTY POOL!" James protested as he swiped half blind at me.
"I'm just going to leave these somewhere by the tree to make sure you don't follow me too closely Prongs," I grin up at my best friend.
Peter and Remus don't have much of a hope in keeping up with me in a cross-country jog but James could give me more than just a run for my galleons the Quidditch hardened chiseled prat he is. Of course he can't get too far without seeing now can he? At least this way he'll be slowed up enough for me to gain enough ground.
Running off and laughing madly at my own hilarity I try to figure on where I should be heading to exactly.
Professor Sprouts' office sounds like as good a place as any.
* * *
I rap on Professor Sprouts' office doors which are tinted and thick glass much like those of the Greenhouse.
"Enter!" I hear the herbology teacher invite me in.
Opening the doors, Professor Sprouts' office is like a miniature greenhouse with a desk parked in the center of it. At the moment she appears to have taken a watering can to the plants hanging overhead. I approach her with my usual pleasant smile.
"Forgive me for disturbing you, Professor, but I was curious of something Herbology related," I lead in smoothly.
"Yes Mr. Black?" Professor Sprout salutes me with an eyebrow, unable to resist either my charm or the fresh topic of 'the latest mad thing the Black boy said to me today' conversation in the faculty lounge.
"You wouldn't happen to know, off-hand, what these flowers are?"
I display the bouquet to the Professor. She glances over them casual then to me with a slightly disappointed expression.
"Honestly, Mr. Black, you don't know white violets when you see them?" Sprout chided in her usual good natured tone.
"I guess I'm more accustom to the violet violets," I shrug, " you would know what the meaning behind sending someone white violets is by chance, would you ma'am?"
Professor Sprout smiles, evidently pleased I didn't ask her something idiotic like "how would I go about pruning a sausage plant" or something of the like. I've come to realize now that most of my Professors expect me to dazzle them with some stunning kernel of lunacy at this point and I typically just have fun rolling with it. Presently, however, I'm a man on a mission.
"White Violets traditionally translate to something of the effect of "let's take a chance on happiness," Professor Sprout divulged with an amused look, "is that helpful to you, Mr. Black?"
"Well it gives me something to work with," I reply with a flash of a smile, "thank you for your time."
Departing the Greenhouses, I glance over the note once again before placing it in a pocket on my slacks. I figure I should head back to Gryffindor to see about putting the flowers in some water.
My mind is still spinning a bit from all this.
That's not to say that I'm unaccustomed to receiving admiring letters now and again, but this was one from Winifred Wilkes. Complete with a floral attachment that serves in place of a signature and her coy, ironic caressing of words.
That girl always has a habit of keeping one off balance.
The question is though what am I going to do now that I'm tilted off my axis on this. I mean it's all flattering and grand that she's keen on the idea of something more than casual but where does that leave me? After all I've only been declaring up and down on how much the pair of us are simply friends. And that's what we are.
It's just one of those things you feel deep down inside you that is nearly impossible to doubt. Like some fundamental truth of the universe that can't be argued or bent from the position it was intended.
The thing is though . . .I do doubt it at times.
Specifically the times when our conversations have ended up like this:
We'll be talking, maybe making fun of something or just commenting on life in general, then Win will make some well-timed remark that will have me laughing to the point of hyperventilating. She'll typically stop talking so she can indulge a coy smile and entertained look in her eyes that makes me breathless for a whole different reason.
Lots of conversations end like this.
I don't care to wonder what this reason is because I doubt I'll like what it suggests. Win and I are two attractive, intelligent, witty, charismatic people (without any modesty, I am aware) whom people consider as brilliant around one another and I think a large part of this has to do with the fact with don't have the usual drama that boys and girls in such proximity are obligated to feel after a month or so. To start questioning and reworking everything we have . . .well it would destroy the great relationship we got of a man and a woman who can sit together without worrying about some larger meaning to it all.
Winifred and I need to be friends.
I have NEVER had a girl whom I considered to be a friend stay a friend once in my whole bloody life. I'm sick of every time I get close to a wonderful witch I need to make it something more which, inevitably, makes our relationship something less. And I'll be buggered for life in general if the only girls I can talk to without somewhat attempting to snog or shag are my sisters!
So I suppose what I'm saying in all this is my ego won't allow my first serious attempt to be a failed one. I'm determined to prove to everyone who's said this is impossible how possible it is.
It should be noted that by "everyone" I mean "Peter" but he can bugger himself chafed before he gets the last laugh on this!
It should also be noted that I am fully aware I'm a barking loony.
* * *
After I put the violets in a vase and some water near my bed I head down to the commons and find James browsing over a copy of the Daily prophet while on the couch.
Evidently he found his glasses.
It's not long before he notes my presence and tosses the paper at me.
"Prat," he says as though it's my given name.
"Oh you had it coming, you nosy git," I insist while flopping on the other side of the couch.
"You going to tell me who sent you the delivery?" James demanded.
"Not even a hint," I shake my head.
It occurs to me then that I could probably use a little of James's advice on this matter. Not that James is an expert on women or anything but he has been in a fairly lengthy relationship by young wizarding standards and he and Lily did used to be friends before it all started out. Maybe he could offer up a perspective to sway me on wanting to gamble what I have with Win on something else.
The trick is to ask him without asking him.
"You know, I'm really happy for you and Lily," I told James honestly.
James dropped his slight scowl to smile warmly at this and nodded appreciatively at me. I think that meant a lot from me to James since we almost fought over the girl only half a year earlier.
How things change eh?
"I'm happy with it," James said simply and with whole-hearted sincerity.
Deciding this might be an opening to weigh my options I casually lean on the couch and study James.
"So was it weird going from mates to boyfriend and girlfriend?" I inquire in a light pitch.
"Not so much," James shrugged, "of course I kind of stopped looking at Lily as a friend long before the fact so it was just sort of the next logical step that I had been prepared to take long before I even put my shoes on."
Hmm, that didn't help me too much since I don't think I've been making any grand preparation to woo Winifred.
Have I?
"What about Lily?" I continue on, "was she like you and knew what she was after?"
James laughed and shook his head, obviously reliving the angst of the first term of our 6th Year.
"I suspect not nearly as much as I or we probably would have gotten together a lot sooner," James wagered, "the thing was, once we got past all the stupid things that were keeping up apart that we didn't think the other would understand and just trusted one another it was a whole lot easier to be friends and even more so to be romantic."
James ran his hand though his hair and glanced at me.
"It's something I'm still learning," James confessed simply.
"Aren't we all," I nod in sympathy.
It was then that Remus decided to walk in and join the conversation by default.
"What's going on in here?" He questioned.
"I was just talking about me and Lily," James explained.
"A subject we never tire of hearing about," Remus teased with a toothy grin.
"Prat," James scowled mostly for show.
"Well what about you and Arabella?" I ask, seeing if another perspective might be of some use.
"What about it?" Remus eyes me as though I'm about to ask something vulgar.
Can't fault the chap for knowing his audience.
"Well how did you get to fancy her?" I suggest more helpfully, "It was sort of out of the blue since you never mentioned anything about her before you made your move at the ball."
"Oh," Remus relaxed on this and smiled, "I don't know. I guess I just noticed how cute and quirky she was in pursuit of our James here. Then I realized that Arabella was pretty much one of a kind. Coupled with the fact she's a sweet person and a head turner in all the traditional sense, I felt I owed it to myself to at least see if I had a show with someone so unique."
Remus grinned a little to himself before adding.
"I didn't really think it would go on that far or that long but I guess sometimes it's good to be wrong about what you once thought."
I nod along with the words without realizing it.
"That's something then," I speak up, "you're both lucky men. If either of you forget than I'll pummel you on principle."
"Not planning on it," James assured with a dopey grin.
"It's not as though fabulous girls who don't mind dating werewolves are dangling from trees," Remus smirked.
"Just as long as you know," I smile back.
* * *
I say almost nothing during supper.
It was a bit of a chore actually.
The thing of it is I was so busy thinking about myself and Winifred and what I wanted that to be exactly that I could barely eat let alone hold up a conversation. I considered the testimonies of two of my closest friends and weighed them against how I saw things with me and Winifred.
Yes we were both friends and yes Winifred was unlike any other girl walking the halls of Hogwarts. The thing was I wasn't constantly thinking about how I wished I had more with Winifred like James and Remus had been. Up until now I thought that I was pretty content with the arrangement that I had with her.
Why is it when one person in a platonic relationship starts to question things the other is obligated to as well?
I like Winifred. Loads. I like spending time with her and I think that she's an attractive and charming girl on top of it all, but am I willing to wager all that on a relationship that's more than friends? The both of us can admit that we're down right horrible at keeping any consistent relationships going with other people and tend to tomcat about as it suits us. Why tempt fate when we seem to have a grand thing going just as mates?
So I guess that's my decision then.
Problem is that means I still have to let Winifred down. And that just might cost us our friendship as much as a failed dating experience. Of course it's not like I should just go along with it so I won't risk making things worse right at the moment. I'll just have to be reasonable about it tell her why I don't think it should happen.
At least not right now if it's meant to.
I can honestly say that the fact she's a Slytherin or kin to Snape never once influenced my decision in all this.
I kind of wished it did though.
It almost seems kinder to have Winifred mad at me because of the impending rejection rather than hurt by it.
You know I didn't think I'd live long enough to see me being mature about something.
* * *
It's with a deep breath that I enter the Greenhouses. The sun's only begun to set and I've been rehearsing my calm and rational words over and over in my head so I'll know exactly what I'm going to say.
I hope the profusely sweating palms don't work against me.
And there was Winifred with her back to me pruning the withered leaves off some stray plants. I'll be sure to get her to put those down before we actually get into all this.
I approach her with the intent to say something but I feel my voice stick in my throat leaving me to dumbly watch her trimming the plants like some kind of odd voyeur. Her uneven lengths of brown hair keep flopping over one another like some kind of willow tree. Those long ivory fingers plucking at leaves like the cords of a cello, skilled, gentle, and purposeful all at once. A soft hum is vibrating from behind her lips as she works.
My breath is lost to me again and everything I had wanted to say a moment ago is completely forgotten.
I realize just then that it doesn't matter if my situation with Winifred started out similarly to either James or Remus. I don't need to have agonized over it for months to know I want to be with Winifred as more than a friend or want her just because she's so different from everyone else.
No two relationships are ever the same so why should I think I have to start mine off on the same foot as everyone else?
The simple matter of it is Winifred and I will always be an odd pairing. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin, her being Snape's cousin, and all the other ironies that others will be so ready to point out. It's all noise, meaningless noise if both me and Winifred are fine with it, right?
At the end of the day, I'm not going to find someone as clever as Win who also happens to be funny and unique as well as the only girl who challenges me in that way that makes things interesting without making me feel threatened by it all.
I'm supposed to ignore all this because things aren't going by the script?
It's then that Winifred turns around, a slightly startled look flashing over her dark eyes before relaxing.
"Oh," She smiles, "how long have you been standing there?"
"Not long," I say as she turns to face me.
Its odd how I can go from being so comfortable and casual all the time around a girl and, in the bat of an eyelash, I feel so nervous it's almost crippling.
Is this how Rosier feels all the time around her?
"You look like you have something you want to say," Winifred noted keenly.
"I do," I croak out while taking a step forward, "I just seem to be reeling a bit."
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. No rehearsals or pre-arranged speeches. I'm just going to have to speak from the heart on all this and hope it comes out halfway decent. I want to tell Winifred how special she is to me and how great this month has been with her and how I think we can have so much more given the opportunity. How I'm willing to work past every difference between us to make whatever we have something more than anything else we've experienced with another person.
And that, no matter what else is said or done, I want to be her friend and count on her to be around.
It comes to my attention that I'm still silent and most likely smiling very stupid and nervously.
"Oh," Winifred interrupts my thoughts and demeanor by looking over my shoulder, "what are you doing here?"
In turn to see who she's talking to, completely unsure as to what to expect.
And there stood a girl with Hufflepuff colors on the crest of a sweater she's wearing. An average build with strawberry hair and I name I couldn't place for a sack of galleons. She's not in my year otherwise I would know who she was but she's probably only one off in either direction judging by her appearance. There's something familiar about her though, like if I was given a moment to think on it I could probably figure out just who she was and if I knew her better than in passing.
As of the moment I am reasonably certain I HAVE NOT snogged with her before.
"I think I should ask you that," The Hufflepuff girl commented in a rather prickly tone with her eyes on Winifred, "after all, I'm supposed to be meeting Sirius right now."
As I am now utterly without a clue as to what is going on, I can only hope my infinite confusion over the present situation is reflected in the slack-jawed gaping of my expression.
"Oh," Winifred glances over to me with an ambivalent shrug, "you should have mentioned something."
"But - ," of course this is all I really manage before I return to my stupor.
"It's alright," Winifred placed down her pruning sheers and starts to walk off, "I'll get out of your collective hair. So sorry to intrude."
Sauntering off, Winifred departs the Greenhouse without another word. And with that I'm left alone with the strange girl and a whole lot of questions.
The girl smiles at me while strolling up to me. Once she gets a bit closer she gives me a quizzical look in reaction to my expression.
"You seem very surprised to see me here," the girl said to me with her brow furrowed as a show of her confusion.
"You seem to think that I shouldn't be," I hear myself reply dumbly, not all too sure as to what my line is expected to be.
"I initialed it V.W," the girl insisted a bit irritably. "and my name is Violet White so I sent you white violets. I thought it would be a clever pun or clue for you to figure out."
I feel myself shaking my head as I pull the note from my pocket and look it over. I was positive the initials at the bottom with a pair of W's as in "Winifred Wilkes" but I realize that there is, in fact, a V present before the second W. I stare at the parchment trying to decide if Violet's handwriting was so sloppy that she made her V's and W's a little too similar or if I had just jumped to a conclusion because of the flowers and the meaning behind them.
Or maybe I wanted to see something that wasn't there.
That's when I fully appreciate how coincidental all this has been. How everything tossed my way in the span of a single day seemed to add up to one grand solution and then everything gets turned on its head. It's like the universe just set me up so it could have one great big ironic laugh at my expense.
The again perhaps I just needed to chase my tail a bit to finally see what was right in front of my face.
Crap, I better not be believing in divinations all of a sudden.
It's then I not only remember Violet but I remember my manners.
"I - I guess I just mistook you for someone else," I explain quietly, pulling my eyes from the note, "I'm sorry."
Violet's expression drops like a potted plant on the floor.
"Oh, I see," Violet nods sadly, "well. . .I'm very sorry to have called you out like this then."
"Why did you ask me to meet you here?" I ask sympathetically.
Violet hesitates, her hands gripping the end of her shirt in a tight, nervous manner.
"I'd really prefer not to say now if you don't mind," she doesn't look at me as she speaks, "you see, I know you'll listen and you'll be nice about it because that's just how you are. . .or at least how I think you are. Still, you'd probably just turn me down kindly but, as long as there was a chance, I thought I might risk it. Anyway, that's probably what would have happened regardless of all this misunderstanding. This way. . .I'm spared of being embarrassed for saying anything because I know what your reply will be."
I feel a stabbing pain embed itself in my chest as I feel for this girl.
"Violet. . .listen - " I begin but she raises a hand to cut me off from the rest of my sentence.
"No I don't need any explanations or apologies. . .and most certainly no pity," Violet requests simply, "all I'd like to know is if. . .if it's really as hopeless as I think."
I feel my breathe stagger from my mouth uneasily. I consider Violet's inquiry, all the things I have been feeling today, all the moments that have been building up over the past month or longer.
Most specifically, I think about the single odd moment just before Violet walked into the Greenhouse.
"I'm afraid it is," I say to myself as much as Violet.
Violet nodded again, this time in silence as she left the Greenhouse. Her eyes were brimming a bit over with tears. I would have liked to comfort her but I doubt I'm the person for the task at the moment considering I'm the one who just made her miserable. That and I was doing my best to try and comfort myself.
And it was hopeless. . .just like Violet said and just like I agreed.
It was hopeless to go back to things as they'd been running for what seems like ever now. It was hopeless to wash this day from my memory and go back to the norm I had so desperately wanted to establish. It was hopeless to make myself ignore all these feelings alive beneath my flesh and violently beating heart, denying the reason for it.
In short, it was hopeless for me and Winifred to be friends like we had been.
I crossed the line of every platonic relationship. The one that forbids you to ever acknowledge someone as a person you're undeniably attracted to. The one that expressly prohibits a dependency beyond simple friendship. The one designed to prevent you from ever imagining what it would be like to kiss and embrace them or spend any small part of your life in their exclusive company.
The same one that makes a very mad idea seem like a very good one.
A low chuckle escapes my lips before I realize I'm laughing hysterically at it all. Collapsing to the floor, my voice bounces against the panes of the Greenhouse as I feel tears stream down my face from the irony and humor of it all.
You have to admit, there's something inherently amusing about a Gryffindor loving a Slytherin. And, even more so, my loving in all affects a Snape.
I know I'm laughing.
Just like that. . .
. . .in spite of every reason and effort to resist. . .
. . .I'm drawn undauntedly to probably the one person in the world who should give me the most pause.
I guess this just happens to be like the Irish poet Thomas Moore had once said:
~ "Came but for friendship, and took away love." ~
I am so buggered.
I'll worry about that once I'm done with my laugh.
Maybe I'll listen to some Billie Holiday while I'm at it.
* * *
* * * * * *
* * *
It Had To Be You
By: Billie Holiday
* * *
It had to be you
It had to be you
I wandered around
And finally found
The somebody who
Could make me be true
Could make me be blue
Or even be glad
Just to be sad
Thinking of you
Some others I've seen
Might never been mean
Might never be crossed
Or try to be bossed
But they wouldn't do
For nobody else
Gave me a thrill
With all your faults
I love you still
It had to be you
Wonderful you
It had to be you
For nobody else
Gave me a thrill
With all your faults
I love you still
It had to be you
Wonderful you
It had to be you