oh, what a HILARIOUS misunderstanding., + SIRIUS, with a fashionably late DORCAS

[+ ezra d'ambrosio]

Why in the name of bleeding hell did the sun have to set?

The result was always a terribly frightful, suffocatingly small, empty and cold darkness. And if there was one thing Ezra abhorred and feared, it was darkness; after all, it slithered around hand-in-hand with loneliness and, dammit, the boy couldn't even sleep alone. Which explained his latest middle-of-the-night, might-as-well-be-blind trek to the seventh year Gryffindor boys' dorm -- a journey still in progress.

And Lord, was it dark. Scarily so. Meandering about with one hand stretched out in front of him and one on the wall was admittedly a little awkward, but Ezra didn't have enough presence of mind to think about that; he was primarily concerned with getting to the correct dormitory without being mauled by mad axemen, or other sorts of fiends which might take refuge in the heavy black cloak of dusk.

"Just a little further, Ezra," he reassured himself in a whisper, not very intelligently; the sound of his own voice was startling and scary in the absolute silence, enough to make his breath catch before the threat posed by the invisibly leering eyes in the darkness urged him onward. Treading on his tiptoes, Ezra was too aware of the smallest sounds of the ominous outside and his own hushed footfalls.

However, his vision was still impaired by the stiff curtain of night. The fat darkness obscured someone's parchment, strewn recklessly over the ground for whatever reason, and Ezra had no forewarning before his foot caught and he slid in that all-too-familiar, cliché, guy-slips-on-a-banana-peel fashion. Awkward.

FwishTHUD. By no means was Ezra a heavy person, but at witching hour, with every noise magnified and not a creature stirring (not even a mouse), it was loud enough. He leapt up, trembling, throwing glances into the darkness -- faulty boomerangs -- and sped up his pace, half-running toward the designated dormitory. He was there in a moment, and wondered why he hadn't simply darted across in the first place.

Oh right, well, that 'careful and slow' idea? Yeah... it didn't work.

With hand turning the disconcertingly cold metal of the doorknob and the other on the wand tucked into his robes, he was in. There. Wasn't so difficult now, was it? He'd close the door, function by the light of the--

Okay, so these boys slept with the curtains drawn on their windows. No problem; he'd go by touch. Lumos-ing the blindness problem away was out of the question; everybody was sleeping and that might wake them up. Which bed was Remus's again? The third on the left? The fourth?... Maybe he could wake Lorcan up and ask him to use his awesome half-vampire night vision skills. Or was that rude? Oh, whatever, he could do it himself.

Slipping forth into the room, Ezra felt his away past each four-poster bed. Counted them as he passed-- One... two... three... was that it? Third on the left? That sounded right, and it was a fifty-fifty chance. Might as well take it. After all, he was almost certain this was the right bed.

"Remus?" Ezra breathed in a bedroom whisper, slipping past the drawn curtains to squint at the roughly Remus-sized body sprawled on the bed. "Remmy, is that you?" The darkness could really skew perception. Oh well... he'd find out if he was right in the morning, or whenever this potential-Remus woke up. Slipping out of his robes to shiver slightly in his white cotton pajamas, Ezra shed his bunny slippers and crawled very lightly into the bed-- or attempted to, anyway. His attempt at stealth and grace abruptly failed when his hand grazed (more like crushed) a wayward forearm, or shin, or whatever-it-was -- God, the boy slept in strange positions -- and Ezra jerked it back as if he'd been burned, freezing in the position he currently held. Which was to say, poised above the presumably sleeping boy.

Meanwhile, a very worn Remus Lupin slept peacefully for once (untroubled by frantic anticipation of the full moon for another several weeks) in the adjacent bed, the fourth on the left.

[sirius black]

Unfortunately for all involved, the bed that Ezra was currently perched on was not that of Remus Lupin, but belonged to one Sirius Black, who was currently fast asleep under his bed. Yes, you heard that right. Not on his bed like a normal human being, but under it, sprawled out without a pillow, and what was more, pulled halfway out from under it on one side. He had one arm draped up over the edge of the mattress, having fallen back asleep midway through the act of trying to retrieve his pillow.

Anyone who knew Sirius well knew that under his bed was where he retreated to when he neede to think or was upset, and thankfully, his fellow Marauders had either not seen him there, or had decided it was best to leave him alone while he brooded. It was a side of the happy-go-lucky young man few people saw, and one he would have liked to keep hidden from the general public. What would the world know if they knew that Sirius Black had deep, meaningful thoughts, let along sought out his own private sanctuary to mull through them? No, it was a secret best kept as one.

What he had been thinking about had spilled over into his unconscious mind, and just then, he was having one of those unrepeatable dreams about dear Moony, though it had not yet progressed to the stage where it was unrepeatable. At the moment he sat on the shore of the lake, one arm around his dear friend, leaning to one side to accommodate the fact that Remus had laid his head on his shoulder, and was staring off into the sunset, a rather blithe smile on his lips. Tentatively, as it always went, he turned to meet his companion’s eyes, leaned forward slightly, heartbeat quickening…

….and was suddenly awakened by the feeling of someone’s hand colliding rudely and suddenly with his exposed forearm, leaning their weight into it as they crawled. With a muffled groan, Sirius’s eyes snapped open, to be confronted with the eye-crossing sight of the ceiling combined with the underside of his bed, split across his vision. He blinked, the hand that was draped across his bed clenching in the bedspread, as he very gingerly hauled himself up until his eyes were level with the top edge of the mattress, and frowned. He could see nothing in this infernal darkness.

“Whossere?” he slurred, licking his lips and instantly being reminded of why he usually did not fall asleep with his mouth open. He swallowed, trying to restore working order to his desert-dry throat, and blinked once more. He could just make out what looked like the shape of someone, atop his bed, unmoving. What the….? What was it, some girl come to ambush him in his sleep? Not that he wasn’t flattered, but he had enough in his head with Remus and Dorcas that he was actually not in the mood to drag some nameless girl into the sheets, so uncharacteristic of him. He might actually have to, gasp, send a fanclub member away unfulfilled. Hopefully it wasn’t one, then. But then who…?

“Who…what are you doing in my bed when I’m not in it?" Sirius demanded sleepily, propping his entire head up now, resting his chin on the edge of the bed and eyeing this nameless intruder warily. “When I’m asleep isn’t the best time to come calling for favors, you know that…go back to bed, you can snog me in the morning.” He spoke softly, though the almost-permanent silencing charms he’d put on the curtains of his bed were fairly good for muffling everything but screams. “Merlin, it’s three a.m., didn’t your mother teach you decency?” He yawned hugely and rolled his eyes, unseen in the dark. Honestly, there were limits to how irresistible he could possibly be to women.

[+ ezra d'ambrosio]

It was a funny, funny thing, wasn't it? How someone could hold their breath and not realize it until they let it out.

Ezra found himself doing just that, exhaling his bated breath in a soft sigh of relief, just before losing his balance and somewhat collapsing onto Sirius Black's mattress. He quickly arranged himself into a cross-legged Indian-style position and smiled pleasantly in the older boy's general direction, tipping his head to squint into the darkness. It hadn't gotten any lighter in the room, so if he hadn't recognized the voice, he most likely wouldn't have realized who it was... on the floor next to the bed.

But he was almost obliged to know the voice, wasn't he? After all, was he or was he not the President of Sirius's fan club? (He was, for the record. Yes. The President of the Official Sirius Black Fan Club was male.) He operated in secret, though, naturally; after all, he hadn't yet been outed as bisexual, and didn't intend to be for a while yet. Anyway, unlike Ezra's mostly-insignificant sexuality, Sirius Black's being the next-best-thing to a god was a much stated fact, and Ezra was sure some of the more... er, involved fans had actually devoted small shrines to him. He guessed they probably called himselves Sirish, or Sirians -- ha! Syrians -- or something stupid like that, but he wouldn't know, for they worshipped in secret.

"Who... what are you doing in my bed when I’m not in it?"

Well, wasn't that the million-dollar question? But Ezra refrained from answering, because he guessed -- probably correctly -- that Sirius still had no idea that it was he, Ezra d'Ambrosio, perched atop his mattress. After all, he'd just been about to ask, before he switched to the other question, wasn't that right? And besides, Ezra wasn't sure how Sirius felt about having a boy in his bed -- the knowledge of which might provoke an awkward encounter. Not that this wasn't plenty awkward. Maybe Ezra ought to take advantage of the fact that Sirius was still groggy from sleep and escape while he could.

“When I’m asleep isn’t the best time to come calling for favors, you know that... go back to bed, you can snog me in the morning.”

The silky sound of Sirius's voice, characteristic of a certifiable Sex God even half-asleep, froze Ezra where he sat, quickly eliminating the vaguest notion of escape. And anyway, he might step on Sirius on the way out. God, he had an attractive bedroom whisper. But... oh, snogging? Sirius was most definitely convinced that it was fangirl. Perhaps that moment was the best time to shatter his misconception... not too early, not too late. It'd never be the right time but, oh, whatever.

"Strangely, Sirius, I don't think you'd want me to do that," Ezra breathed, gently biting his lip in way of punctuation. Then something similarly strange occurred to him, and his small smile stretched wider in confusion. "And... why are you hiding under the bed?" Surely it couldn't be more comfortable down there. Ezra bounced slightly to check, and he came to the conclusion that this matress was extremely comfortable and, if Sirius wasn't fond of it, Ezra'd be absolutely willing to take it off his hands.

Maybe it was a security thing. Maybe Sirius was afraid the ceiling would, for whatever reason, come tumbling down in the middle of the night and crush him, and had thereby decided to utilize the bed as a barrier just in case. Well, that was smart, wasn't it? But what if he believed those stories of the chicken and the falling sky? Oughtn't Ezra set him straight?

“Merlin, it’s three a.m., didn’t your mother teach you decency?”

Aw, well that was enough to wash away any of Ezra's intentions to 'set him straight'. Let him figure it out himself that the 'sky' was really just an acorn and the chicken was just a loudmouthed idiot who jumped to conclusions. And who probably got hit by a car in the middle of crossing the road. Hmph.

Not that Ezra wanted Sirius to be hit by a car, just in case the gods were tempted by the image.

"She absolutely did! She's always like, Ezra love, don't slouch when you sit and... stuff. Anyway, it's just, I was--" Ezra began indignantly, quick as usual to come to his mommy's defense. He hesitated and reached up to brushed his fringe out of his eyes, the awkwardness of the current situation ushering him out of his defensive position in a matter of seconds and coaxing his reluctant lips into a sheepish smile instead.

"Okay lookit, Siri, this is kind of awkward, so I'm just going to say it. I actually kind of... missed. See, I was looking for Remmy's bed... and your bed is right next to his, and..." His voice decrescendo'ed as he spoke, and he trailed off to mumble something about the 'third and fourth beds on the left' and 'decided I'd just take the chance'.

Oh, if only it weren't so dark. Then he might actually be able to see Sirius's reaction, instead of waiting to hear it.

[sirius black]

To say that Sirius was surprised was putting it mildly – so mildly that it was rather like comparing an earthquake to knocking over a glass of water. The sound of Ezra’s voice caught him completely off-guard, and he swore he must have jumped about three feet in the air. He had been expecting a great many things that could have happened, but the soft, breathy sound of an undeniably male voice coming from above him had not even been considered in his calculations, and he had to backpedal furiously, his sleepy mind trying desperately to comprehend. That was…was…Ezra?!

“Yeah, s’pose you’re right about that,” he managed, trying to cover up his shock, as his mind raced into overdrive, attempting to ascertain whether or not that had been the correct answer. Considering the lovely dream he’d been having before Ezra had so rudely awakened him, it was probably safe to say that he was not averse to the idea of being snogged by a boy, in strictest terms…or at least, by Remus. So then, had he actually told the truth just then? His words had not been quite as convincing as he’d wanted them to be, and he flushed in the dark to think of it.

Deciding that this was far too complex a conversation to be having with himself when he was only half-conscious, Sirius moved on, focusing on the second question Ezra asked, tilting his head. “Thinking,” he answered vaguely, and then frowned. “I could ask you the same thing, though…what are you doing on top of the bed?” This entire thing was so completely odd that it made his head spin. After all, how many times did he wake up to fanboys in his bed? This was…new. Not to mention confusing when he attempted to work out if he did mind it, since after all, as fanboys went…Ezra was…stop it! His mind chimed in, shutting him up soundly. Don’t you dare follow that train of thought.

And then….and then….Sirius’s mood shifted so suddenly, so completely, that it jolted him into full consciousness in an instant. He shot to his feet before he could stop himself, or even comprehend why on earth he was doing it, hands clenching. Had they had decent light, no doubt Ezra would have been confronted by the sight of Sirius’s eyes flashing and blazing, his body suddenly rigid, and the sheer aura of antagonism jumping to life around him so thickly it was inescapable. His jaw clenched, and he found himself bracing himself on the edge of the mattress, leaning forward, attempting to see his opponent in the dark.

“I was looking for Remmy’s bed.” The words echoed in his mind so cruelly, reverberating off of mental walls and barriers, eluding Sirius’s awareness it happened so quickly. He was struck by the sudden image of Ezra in Remus’s bed, the pair of them wrapped around one another, and the feeling that had driven him to his feet intensified to painful levels. He was struck by the sudden urge to wring the smaller boy’s neck, a thought that was violent even for him, had to check the desire by clenching his fingers in the sheets, attempting to gain control of himself. What is wrong with you?

He caught hold of it long enough to realize that the emotion running through him was rage. It choked him, flaring crimson behind his eyes, settling in so strongly that he felt tremors pulling at him, the shaking barely contained. He was straining at the seams, teeth clenched, hands clenched, everything clenched, possibly even his vitals. Everything about him was tightened and alert, the blood rushing to his head, face no doubt more flushed with his fury, hidden by the darkness. Violence coursed through his veins, the desire to hurt even someone as soft and innocent as Ezra, to throw him out a window, to…to…Oh. OH. Suddenly, Sirius knew exactly what was wrong with him, and he did not like it.

It was vicious, unpredictable, unadulterated jealousy.

The words came out harsher than he would have liked, but given that he was having to keep back the need to launch himself up onto the bed, knock Ezra off the other side, and pound him into the floor in a very painful, non-romantic way, it was necessary. Better a bit of anger should show in his tone than he should commit aggravated assault and attempted murder in the middle of the night while his friends lay sleeping. “What,” Sirius demanded past clenched teeth, “precisely were you doing looking for Remus’s bed?” Not sleeping with him. Couldn’t possibly be sleeping with him. “Couldn’t you have waited until it wasn’t the dead of night? Couldn’t you?” His words escalated in tone the more he spoke, until he had to keep himself from shouting.

No, it’s not true. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. And if he had there would be hell to pay.

[+ ezra d'ambrosio]

It was terrible how thick with darkness nighttime was.

Ezra would've liked to have been able to see, to give himself ample warning in case Sirius was one of those paranoid, homophobic types and decided on a whim to punch him for sneaking into the dorm in the middle of the night. Well, that, and for crawling into his bed (in retrospect, Ezra wasn't even sure that was legal), but that wasn't the most significant thing. Even the weakest sliver of moonlight would have allowed him to prepare, but this... this was much worse, this not-knowing with the curtains drawn, this being perched so vulnerably atop the other boy's bed. Waiting for whatever was coming his way. Thankfully, it was only a word which rose to greet him from the darkness, as comparable to a fist. “Thinking.”

To be perfectly honest, Ezra didn't understand why or how Sirius did his best thinking beneath the bed, but it wasn't his question to ask. After all, he was already intruding -- he'd better not push it, lest that punch decided it wanted to come after all.

“Oh,” said Ezra, feigning comprehension. He blinked emptily, staring into the darkness, and thought he was able to vaguely make out the outline of the older Gryffindor's frame as his eyes adjusted. Then Sirius shot to his feet without warning, both startling and alarming the the smallish boy sitting on his bed. Ezra's breath caught and he tentatively leaned backwards, away from the agitated Black. Even without decent light, he could feel the sudden tension emanating from Sirius, and he immediately regretted whatever he'd said or done to elicit such alert hostility. Contrary to what he'd been wishing only moments prior, Ezra was suddenly glad for the cover of darkness.

“What precisely were you doing looking for Remus’s bed? Couldn’t you have waited until it wasn’t the dead of night? Couldn’t you?”

Dear Merlin, he sounded angry. Not good not good, not good - no one wanted to deal with an irritated Black. Everyone was familiar with that family's legendary temper, whether by firsthand experience or through stories exchanged by word of mouth, and none of them ended well. They were more the stuff of nightmares or stories to tell over a crackling campfire than fairy tales, that was certain. Shivering slightly, Ezra gave a tremulous smile and cleared his throat very softly, licking his lips as he considered his response.

He shifted his position and began to inch toward the edge of the bed just in case, talking as he went.

“How many things are there to do in the middle of the night?” he mused rhetorically, slipping off the opposite side of the mattress from Sirius without turning his back on the older boy. Only a precaution, of course; there was probably nothing to worry about, but he didn't want to take any chances with a mysteriously infuriated Black.

“Why, I've been sleeping with him, of course... but I don't see what the big deal is, Sirius, we've been doing it for weeks... I mean, you haven't heard us, have you? We kind of figured - as long as we didn't bother anyone - no, we were quiet about it, of course - what am I even talking about...”

All the while he carefully patted the curtains behind him, talking swiftly out of nerves. He should slow down, he should stall for time... should, should, but these didn't occur to him as he was far too distracted, rather preoccupied with his immediate safety. As for the second question...

“But anyway, no, I couldn't wait, because you see, if I'd waited 'till morning, we'd have class, and we can't possibly - not during class - everyone'd notice we were gone... no, no, that's just the strangest suggestion I've ever heard. Best do it at night; after all, he's already in bed... it's most convenient this way... can you even imagine...”

[sirius black]

Oh, if only Ezra knew the truth about Sirius Black. There truly was no danger of Sirius punching him in the face for landing in his bed unsolicited, or ending up on a homophobic rage. The rage that coursed through him at the moment was precisely the opposite, born of feelings that any homophobe would have punched him in the face for feeling, but it was just as potent, if not more so, than what Ezra was expecting to receive. It was one thing to lash out for reasons of prejudice or hatred, but quite another to do it out of jealousy. It just went to show you that the old saying held true. Those you loved truly were the ones who could hurt you most of all.

Sirius’s jaw was clenched so tightly that he could not even speak aloud, could not risk undoing those knots. His hands were clenched so tightly he could have sworn his fingernails had broken the skin, and he ‘watched’ Ezra in the darkness, fixing his eyes on the dark blur that was the boy’s shape so that he would have something other than the crimson tainting his vision to focus on. “How many things are there to do in the middle of the night?” What kind of question was that? Sirius didn’t know how much more of this damned anticipation, because of course the main thing that others did in the middle of the night…that he did, being himself after all….was not something that was possible. Because he knew, he knew….Remus wouldn’t.

The noise that tried to escape Sirius as Ezra spoke was somewhere between a cry of despair and the noise a cat makes when you step on its tail. “No.” He spat the word, unable to process, unable to hear the things that Ezra kept saying, words that sank into his consciousness and tore at him until he had to throw them back out lest he bleed to death. (At which point his internal wiseass pointed out he was being a whiny emo kid and had best get his eyeliner on.) No. No nonononononono…. It couldn’t possibly be. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t hearing what he thought he was hearing…. Remus wouldn’t….but when had he ever known Ezra to lie? How….how….no. No this was all wrong, it couldn’t be, it was Moony….his Moony…was…

How could Ezra possibly sit there being so…so…blasé about telling him that he and Remus were sleeping together? And giving him details about when….and how long…and nononononono….his mind refused to allow it to sink in. He was blinded, his vision had flared so aggressively over, the red that painted it the infamous sign of the Black temper hard at work, as he blinked back tears, a trait he had never liked nor wanted. No man would cry when he was truly infuriated, it was simply not masculine, but there it was….heartbreak and fury all rolled into one and he wanted, he wanted so badly to wrap his hands around Ezra’s slender little neck and choke the life out of him until he couldn’t tell him these things any longer, couldn’t tear him open with words. (At which point Inner Wiseass remarked “Get a life you moron!”)

It wasn’t even the betrayal of him being with someone else, no, that Sirius could handle. He had no claim on Remus, and if he wanted to go off and shag some girl in his spare time it was none of his damn business. He had long been resigned to the very real prospect that Remus would turn out to be straight and would never return his feelings, that he might spend the rest of his life mourning it, but he would move on. If Remus had been unable to love him it would have been understandable. But this? No, this was…this was not so much a slice in his heart as an active stabbing in and twisting of the knife into his back. Remus was sleeping with Ezra. When he could have had him. He could have felt something for him, they could have been, and instead….he was sleeping with some little sixth-year slut who didn’t feel for him what Sirius did.

Remus could have had him, and had chosen to betray him instead.

His vision blazed completely, irrevocably red. More than anything, Sirius wanted to lunge across and kill Ezra with the nearest quill through his eyeball for stealing what was his, and indeed, he groped in the dark across his bedside table for just that, thinking blindly that the only thing he could do was inflict pain, take the faultline that ripped through him and inflict it on someone else. Rip, tear, burn, destroy….hurt. As he had been hurt. But what his hands found, rather than a quill, was a glass of water. It was this deadly weapon that he lifted in his grip, and before he could stop himself, as if he possibly could have, he hurled it with all his strength in the vague direction of the blob that was Ezra. “HOW COULD YOU?!”

Reason was thrown out the window in the mind of Sirius Black, replaced by sheer animal instinct, by a rage so potent that if a knife or a gun or even a wand had found its way into his hands, Ezra would probably be dead. Thank whatever forces were at work there, however, that instead he had only found a glass of water, and had aimed badly. It sailed quite harmlessly over Ezra’s head, instead colliding with the wall behind him, with such a deafening crash that it rang through the entire dormitory. For someone who slept like a log or snored like a moose (Prongs and Wormtail, respectively), it would not have been troublesome, but for the most important member of the dormitory, who rarely slept at all, it would have been enough to wake him and then some.

“HOW CAN YOU STAND THERE AND TELL ME THAT LIKE…LIKE IT DOESN’T MATTER?!” Sirius was shouting at the top of his lungs now but he didn’t care, didn’t feel, didn’t want anything but to scream and to hurt until he no longer felt as though he was on fire. “HOW CAN YOU?!” Then he turned, then he rounded on the bed Ezra was supposed to be lying in, the pair of arms that were supposed to have welcomed him rather than the pair that wanted to strangle him, and he snarled, voice full of venom yet wavering, choked, “YOU BASTARD.”

[dorcas meadowes]

Cassie let a large yawn escape her mouth, as she walked down the stairs from the girls' dormitories. Her pajamas were far from flamboyant: she was wearing a black spaghetti strap tank top (with her bra underneath - she didn't like running into guys in the middle of the night without a bra on), and a pair of white cotton shorty-shorts, with cherries on them. Her hair was in a disheveled messy bun (she had attempted to sleep and failed), which she pulled at as she trudged into the Gryffindor common room.

She leaned her back aganist a wall, right next to the mantle of the fireplace. Normally, she would have slidden down the wall, but she went aganist it. The floor was pretty cold, and she was only wearing shorty-shorts. Not the best thing to wear in the fall at Hogwarts, but hey, she was a toughy. She liked going aganist the flow.

She scratched her cheek and began to think. She did that a lot lately, when she couldn't fall asleep. Wait - switch that. She couldn't fall asleep because she thought so much. After some amount of time, she would get unbelivebly tired, and climb up on the stairs - sometimes on her hands and knees, depending on how tired she was - and snuggle under her covers and conk.

But Dorcas wasn't anywhere near falling asleep at this moment. It would be at least a good half hour to an hour before she got even close to that. The first topic this evening was Sirius. SiriusSiriusSirius. Her every living, breathing moment was him, whether it was actually him or not. A funny joke was him. Sports were him. Detention was him. Candy was him. Everything was him, whether she tried to or not. Damn it. Why did she have to fall for him? Why?

She slapped herself, mentally and physically, to snap out of it. It was ridiculous. She'd seen the way he was the other day. The chances of him actually liking her were pretty small. She was like his sister, not like his girlfriend! She was not girlfriend material. Guys didn't fall for girls like Cass. They liked sweet, smart, pretty girls. Not sarcastic, witty, athletic girls. That's not how fairytales work.

But what if he did? If he did, they'd probably stick to each other's sides forever. They'd make it through auror training together, kick Death Eater butt for awhile, and then later kick Voldemort's ass. Together. They'd be famous, and then they could party for who knows how long, with the Marauders and their friends at their sides, and she would keep taking photos. They'd probably never have kids, as they're too bratty and too much work. But then again, you never know.

A small smile cracked her still face, her teeth reflecting some of the firelight. But she knew her fantasies were so far from being the future that it was ridiculous. But a girl can dream, can't she?
Her smile disappeared, and she kept on thinking. Her train of thought was a-workin' hard tonight.

[+ ezra d'ambrosio]

( my stupid mouth has got me in trouble )
( I'm never speaking up again, it only hurts me )

You did not provoke a Black - it was a fundamental rule of survival; you did not step on a lion's tail, you did not spit at a rattlesnake, you did not smile at a crocodile, and you did not. Provoke. A Black. Sirius Black was as serious as a heart attack when you managed to do so, if you were to believe the things you heard, and Ezra wasn't keen on being brutally murdered in the middle of the night. His breath came softly and shallowly, his every movement meticulously silent, lest the slightest sound set Sirius off; terrified and tentative, as he should be.

Goodness! To be honest, the Gryffindor hadn't a clue as to what had so dramatically darkened Sirius's mood, but he didn't intend to stick around and find out, because he very well might be killed first. In the silence, the tension and fury were tangible - painfully, suffocatingly so, and with each fleeting second Ezra's heart raced that much faster. Escape escape escape: the word became a mantra and threw itself to the top of his priority list when Sirius emitted a strangled, feral, frightening sound, in turn eliciting a faint whimper from the smaller boy. Ezra decided he wouldn't be sleeping that night - he just had to live, that was all. Just had to survive.

But just surviving wasn't as easy under these skewed circumstances, as Ezra realized when something hard and breakable was launched forcefully in his general direction, no less of a threat simply because it safely sailed over his head, collided with the wall and smashed into would-be dangerous shards. If anything, it was only a warning, an ominous whisper of the danger that was barreling, without restraint, his way. Then the explosion came.

“HOW COULD YOU?!” The carefully preserved silence shattered, collapsing around them as easy as three furiously-bellowed, scathingly accusatory words. How could he what? Ezra wondered vaguely as he took advantage of the sudden outburst, whirling around to flail about until he found the exit. Frantic hands thrust the curtains apart and he slipped through the opening, swiftly darting around Remus' bed in the hopes that the boy would awaken - how could he have slept through that? - and save him from a miserable death at the hands of Sirius Black. Ezra did not doubt that Sirius was capable of murder, and he didn't want to be the first to prove it; he'd probably be eviscerated, his innards left on a stake in front of the boys' dorm as a warning to any who intended to sneak into Sirius' bed at witching hour.

By the time Sirius howled the second thing (Ezra's fear roared in his ears, rather drowning out the words and their respective meanings), Ezra was already ducking behind another bed. He whimpered softly, nudging Remus awake, murmuring the other boy's name as terrified tears began to tumble down his cheeks, trickling one after another in a crooked line. “Remus, Remus, don't let Sirius kill me please - I didn't mean to -” But he didn't really know what he supposedly hadn't meant to do and so sharply fell into silence, though momentarily filled the empty space with a soft, pleading and helpless whine.

( just keep your mouth shut, keep your guard up )
( I swear I'll make it right )

[+ remus lupin]

( what is it tonight? )
( please just tell me what the hell is wrong )

By “HOW CAN YOU?!”, Remus Lupin was very much awake, however reluctant to be. The glass - if Remus guessed correctly - shattering against the wall had stolen him from his slumber, rousing him with ease. So much for sleeping in peace. However, he opted not to open his eyes to check and see what the ruckus and hullabaloo was about, deciding, in his half-asleep state, that it wasn't quite worth it unless there was an axe murderer on the loose. Like any normal person, Lupin wasn't exactly happy about being stolen from the land of Nod in the middle of the night, and therefore very determinedly kept his eyes closed in the hopes of returning to that place.

But who could sleep with Sirius wailing like a siren? James and Peter could, apparently, but certainly not Remus; not Remus, who could rarely even sleep with Peter's surreally loud snoring. In his sadly short-lived half-asleep state, Remus managed to register Padfoot's crazed exclamations, and only bothered to lift his heavy eyelids when he felt someone's hands physically poking at him. “Don't let Sirius kill me! Please -” A voice, close to his ear. Ezra? Frustratedly, Remus struggled to piece things together, sitting up with vaguely grumpy reluctance.

“Ezra... shh, Ezzie, what are you talking about?” Sirius? Kill him? That couldn't be right... Frowning, Remus reached past Ezra and blindly patted the bedside table for his wand, managing to light it in time to catch a very angry Sirius Black turning on him. “YOU BASTARD.” Er - what? Remus sat quite still for a moment, eyebrows raised in confused bewilderment, before slipping into action. Throwing off his blankets, Remus stood and faced the older boy with a placid, pleasant expression. “Sirius - calm down.” Unlike Sirius' tremulous, toxic tone, Remus' was quiet and patient and soothing - agreeable, even, though no less firm for it. He reached forward, making to place a hand on Sirius's shoulder with the intent to relax him. “And keep it down, won't you? The others are still trying to sleep, though if you haven't woken them already, I doubt anything will... regardless, Sirius, what's gotten into you? Talk to me....”

Remus knew full well that an angry Sirius could be - no, check that - was always a handful and more, and in all honesty, Sirius's anger flustered him a bit. This? This was startling, being on the receiving end of it - frightening, even. Not to mention, Remus wasn't quite sure what he meant to talk with Sirius about, but it would probably be infinitely preferable to him storming around their dormitory, bellowing nonsense at the top of his lungs. Well. Obviously. Remus stood perfectly still before Sirius, his raised wand dimly illuminating everything in the vicinity.

( do you want to eat, do you want to sleep, do you want to drown? )
( just settle down, settle down, settle down )

[sirius black]

Words could neither describe nor contain the feelings running through Sirius Black, burning as they went, igniting him in the darkness. He was quite sure that he was going to blaze until he collapsed into ash, and be grateful for the release, yet all he could focus on was the sight that was denied him, Remus, lying asleep, unknowing that his treachery had been revealed, that all hell was breaking loose as a result of his actions. He drew in a ragged breath, hands clenched against the urge to wrap around one slender little neck, and felt as though he were waiting for something.

Had he been in any other frame of mind, Sirius would have felt sympathy, even guilt, for having made Ezra cry, but he was blind to the sights and the sounds and anything but the feeling that had taken over him, reckless and all-consuming. The sound of that pet name, Ezzie, leaving Remus’s lips made his stomach twist in disgust, in heartbreak, and he growled softly, another animalistic sound. He was far beyond the point of being able to act like a normal human being, and at the sight of Remus’s face his lips pulled back in a derisive, disgusted scowl. “No, Moony, I will NOT calm down!” He felt that he was shaking now, physically trembling from the forces at work in his mind.

When Remus went to lay a hand on his shoulder, Sirius jerked backwards, recoiling so violently he nearly fell over, spitting, “DON’T TOUCH ME!” past gritted teeth once again. He could only see Remus’s expression, so placid, so…so…infuriatingly unfeeling, and of course the sight behind him of Ezra cowering behind him, lying across his bed, and he couldn’t help but be struck by a wave of nausea as he wondered what would have happened if Ezra had found the right bed in the first place. How long would they have continued, while he lay in the darkness, oblivious? “You heartless bastard! HOW CAN YOU STAND THERE AND TELL ME TO KEEP IT DOWN?!” He stepped backwards once again, trying, trying so hard not to strike, to lash out, though he wanted to, wanted to mar those perfect features, send Remus flying to the ground. His body shook with repressing the urge. “You know what, FUCK YOU. If you don’t know what’s wrong then you never gave a damn about me in the first place!”

Sirius turned on his heel and fled, driven by the ceaseless desire to escape, to get out before his head exploded and the flames licked too high and the next thing he knew he would be standing over Remus’s dead body laughing if he didn’t control it, didn’t channel this violence elsewhere. He exited the dormitory, slamming the door so sharply that it vibrated on its hinges, and stalked down the stairs, not particularly caring that he was in his pyjamas, and not particularly caring that it was three in the morning. He had just been torn open by his closest friend and that little whore, and he needed to get out before he redecorated their faces.

And then, into his flickering, crimson-tainted vision, came an actual welcome sight. Dorcas. His body was rigid from rage, the energy of it flowing through him, driving him forward, and it seemed that he was suddenly blind to all else that moved. All but Dorcas, the one person who he could possibly have been glad to see, the one person he could stand to look at. He stalked towards her, looking much like a predator advancing on prey that had conveniently backed itself to a corner, all reason completely out of his head. He was not the Sirius that the school knew, day by day; no, this was a Sirius completely taken over by his legendary temper, and in this state of mind, there was only one way he knew of to channel this.

Before she could bolt, or flee, or protest, Sirius had Dorcas pressed backwards into the wall, his lips crashing against hers with a vengeance. He held her there, one hand pulling at her face, her hair, attempting to gain more leverage, the other pinning her down with the rest of him. He did not seem to care if she reacted or not, deepening the kiss without her consent, all of the destruction running through his veins turned suddenly into ill-intentioned passion, poured out from his mouth to hers. Only when some of the edge had gone off the poison in his veins did he release her, shifting to kiss her neck instead, to bite down lightly, to take. This Sirius was vicious, and unapologetic, an emotional hurricane that did not seem to be halting any time soon.

[dorcas meadowes]

A small yawn escaped Cassie's mouth, and her eyes fluttered. She knew it was reaching time for her to crawl back into bed again and sleep some soft slumber. She pulled a hand to her face and leaned her cheek aganist it, but her she was quickly snapped out of it by the appearance of a severely angered Sirius.

"Sirius, are you okay-" She was cut off by the forceful grab of her face and dark hair, being pushed into the wall by the overwhelming strength of a determined Sirius Black. His lips were smashed into hers, and the situation was extremely surprising. The girl didn't know why he was doing this, but this was certainly something she had always wanted to do since she started liking the guy. So she kept kissing him with the overflowing amount of passion that had stored up inside her ever since she found herself catching second glances at him.

Moments after the kiss began, his lips moved to her neck. Dorcas had never had the pleasure of experiencing someone kiss her neck, so she let him, panting slightly from such a deep and lengthful kiss. When he started to nibble as well, she wasn't quite sure what to do. Out of pure instinct, she began to kiss at his cheek, his face, anywhere her neck could reach her to when she was slammed into a wall. She took heavy breaths as she pushed the limits of her lungs. This was so much more enjoyable to her than snogging Dung in the hallway.

A deep hunger within her was satisified, yet ravenous for more at the exact same time. Now she new why people made out in closets so often - it was so breathtaking (in both meanings of the word), so powerful to feel the adrenaline running through her veins. Yet a different kind of adrenaline than she had ever experienced before; it was nothing like the kind she got when she was caught up in a soccer game. She pushed her lips harder, and out of curiousity, nibbled his ear a little bit, but then went back to what she had been doing before.

[+ remus lupin]

( and you know i played it all in here, )
( where everyone hides their darkest shades of fears )

It hurt. Sirius's biting aversion to his touch; his equally caustic words; the sight of his face fully devoid of all its effortless charm and smirking mischief (to contort, instead, in accusation and in fury and in anguish); Remus didn't let on, displaying only open confusion, but it hurt. More than papercuts, more than bee stings, more than tumbling down a flight of those damned moving stairs - more, even, than his transformations every full moon, because this metaphorical dog bite cleaved straight to his heart - made him falter and left him at a loss for words, or actions, or anything else that might help cushion the blow. It was all he could do to stand straight and still, to stare, nonplussed, after Sirius' back as he fled the dormitory, and to wonder if his friend had finally become as unhinged as his infamous cousin. Black was mad tonight, in both senses of the word, and Remus didn't know the reasons behind either.

But he had a good idea where to start.

As soon as Sirius was out of the room and out of earshot, Remus turned to the only other person awake at that time of night, the one who could hopefully give him the answers he craved. “Ezra,” he said, and there was a subtle tremor to his voice, “What the hell did you do?”

“I don't know, I don't know, I don't know,” Ezra mumbled, straightening slowly with his gaze trained on the door. He was tense; therefore, he was ready to duck and cover if Sirius felt compelled to return and throw more verbal daggers. “I mean, is Sirius really protective of his bed? D'you know? I accidentally crawled into it, and he just - flipped - but he wasn't even on top of it. Maybe he really likes to sleep -”

“That's all?” interrupted Remus incredulously, “You were just in his bed and he started yelling?” His eyebrows slid upward, in turn widening his eyes, which regarded Ezra with clear, bright intrigue. His head tipped to the side, his fringe obscuring his eyes boyishly, and he waited.

“Well...” reflected Ezra contemplatively, “He did ask what I was doing, and I told him I was looking for your bed, and then he asked why, and I said I'd been...” Here he paused, blinked several times very deliberately, then smiled and uttered a soft, nervous cough-laugh. “Oh. Oops.”

Remus' stomach turned to lead and crashed through the ground as he waited, but Ezra offered nothing else. “Oops? Ezra! What did you say?” he prompted slowly, though he was almost sure he knew what the answer was going to be. MerlinMerlinMerlin.

“Said I'd been sleeping with you, but I didn't mean it that way!” Ezra confessed quickly, turning his gaze to the floor. He wrung his hands in distress and plopped backward onto Remus' bed, facing the werewolf uncertainly but refusing to meet his eyes. Instead, Ezra looked determinedly at Remus' feet, the empty doorway forgotten. He could feel the weight of what he'd done but he didn't have a clue how to repair it, so Ezra sat and swung his legs aimlessly, having tried and failed to come up with a solution.

Remus' mind, however, was working in overdrive, so concentrated that he forgot to respond to Ezra, in surprise or anguish or otherwise. He simply could not understand why what Ezra had said would trigger such an intense reaction, unless Sirius happened to be a passionate homophobe. However, some part of his subconscious rejected the possibility as soon as it surfaced, stamping it in red and filing it with the ridiculous. It seemed he wasn't even going to consider it, despite logic's voice, loud and insistent in his ears.

Honestly, Remus almost felt like punching Ezra. Violence wasn't usually the type of urge he had to quell, but he could hardly help himself. Logic and reasoning, Remus' good friends, were next to useless here, and caged frustration struggled to break free within him. “What do you suggest I do now, Ezra?” Remus asked in exasperation, tiredly rubbing his eyes. Despite things, it was very late at night - or very early morning, considering - and he was bitter about losing what little sleep he had managed to snag.

Ezra started when he was asked his opinion. Gathering his wits about him momentarily, he attempted to come up with a clever response, but it seemed the sleep - rather, the lack of it - was getting to him as well, because he drew a blank. “Dunno, sorry,” he mumbled, flopping backward onto Remus' bed and closing his eyes. Unable to quite sleep, but it felt nice to close his eyes. And he wasn't any help to Remus, who stood and began to pace, as perplexed as ever.

“S'pose I'd better go catch him,” Remus said dryly, stomach twisting at the thought of setting off after an infuriated Sirius Black. He wasn't sure what he'd do once he actually caught him, but then, what was he sure about? Ezra nodded sleepily in acquiescence, still unhelpful, and Remus turned, swept up his Prefect's badge, and simply left him there. He suddenly had an appetite of sorts, one which only Sirius could fill - an appetite for information, for the knowledge of what precisely had driven Sirius Black up the wall at three AM.

Halfway out the door of the dormitory, pinning his badge to his pajamas, revelation struck him like a meteor, or a bowling ball, or a bolt of lightning. Jealousy. It had the potential to make a man go mad, blind with toxic fury, and it was very possible - very possible - that exactly this poisonous, poisonous brand of jealousy had flared up within Sirius at Ezra's words. Made especially possible because Remus wanted to believe it, because he both realized something about himself and accepted it within the same minute. If he could take his lycanthropy in stride, he could do the same with anything else, and this was hardly different. Unchangeable as time.

Making such a revelation heightened Remus' spirits considerably and he smiled to himself, a small smile but a smile nonetheless. Understanding: what sweet, sweet relief. He could explain to Sirius what Ezra had meant, if he could calm him down some, and they could get back to being friends, old friends, best friends. Or more, if they wanted. With explanations, they could do anything, really, as long as they both understood what was going on - they could decide together where things would lead, and they could decide together if they wanted to just forget the night's proceeding altogether -

Well. If that fucking girl Sirius was snogging could forget as well. Suddenly Remus' world, which had diligently patched itself up only moments ago, collapsed in upon itself with a deafening crash, like a house of cards, or a glass house - or a glass house of cards. Damn, damn, damn, he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, bad things happened when he got his hopes up, what had he been thinking?!

It was like stumbling in on a secret midnight rendezvous, except for the fact that people who slipped away for secret rendezvous did not launch glasses of water at the wall, bellow at the top of their lungs and storm away beforehand like Sirius had done. Regardless, Remus felt like was witnessing something vulgar, almost; something indecent and teeming with unbridled passion; something indubitably private, but he could not bring himself to care about nor respect this new privacy. He hesitated for a moment at the top of the stairs, looking on only until he could not bear it, until his boiling frustration and confusion (and the first sparks of something like anger, or was it jealousy?) seized the reins and dragged him onward, straight down the stairs and across the common room to confront the two.

“Black, what d'you think you're doing?”

More importantly, what did Lupin think he was doing? Something indescribable had ignited within him, not so different in essence from the passion Sirius and - was that Dorcas?! - shared. But his was a destructive feeling, more or less mirroring Sirius', but Remus, unfortunately, had no random girl to snog to help redirect his passion. His gaze fell on Dorcas with uncharacteristically open disdain, and he resisted the urge to do something feral like growl at her like Sirius had done upstairs. His inner werewolf growled enough for him to save him from emitting such an utterance aloud, but his face was still livid. It was his turn to be angry and disbelieving, his turn to explode - but he could not afford to.

And the urge to hurt someone, maybe even himself, was stronger than ever. His hands balled themselves into fists of their own accord, clenching powerfully, and Remus had to restrain himself to keep from flinging them in the general vicinity of Sirius' ridiculously handsome face. One that was currently attached to Dorcas. Glancing past them some, he could see the portrait hole, and made a snap decision. Escape. Escape. He could hardly breathe.

“Nevermind,” Remus muttered and quickly turned on his heel without waiting for an answer, making for the exit. Never mind that it was just after 3AM. Never mind that he'd be in terrible trouble if he was caught. He just had to escape. Carried away by impossible waves of emotion, without even considering the possible consequences, he decided to leave with some of his pride intact. And even if it had all been shattered into disrepair, he might as well have the last laugh - bitter, dry and rather heartbroken as that laugh may be. The harshest words he could think of crawled their way onto his tongue and leaped off before he could properly think stop them. “Forget it. Do what you want. I don't care.”

( and i threw my whole night down the drain )
( you know cause everyone says that i'm not the same )

[sirius black]

The recklessness continued to burn through Sirius, fed by the sudden realization that Dorcas was responding to him, giving in under his sudden assasult on her, joining in. in a sense, she was unknowingly feeding to the madness that gripped him, but another portion of him, one not taken over by so many toxic attacks on his ability to reason, noted that not all of this was pure adrenaline. His every sense was on fire, it was true, and these actions seemed to be stripping it from him, while at the same time building it higher. It was a strange, self-defeating exercise, which came to an abrupt halt only when he caught the sound of an extremely unwelcome voice, speaking from behind him.

Sirius disentangled his lips from Dorcas long enough to turn, reluctantly pulling away from her ministrations to the side of his head. His eyes, as they fell on Remus, burned with as dark and feral a light as they had in the semidarkness of their dormitory, only now they seemed far more predatory. He took in the expression on Remus’s face, the anger etched there, and felt the strangest of things rise in him: a laugh. A vicious, biting one, borne of sarcasm, irony, and the realization that the tables seemed to have been turned quite suddenly. Now Remus stood incredulous, watching him run off with someone else (though at least in his case, it was not some little slut, but a girl who was more than worthy of him). What Remus was feeling, or feigning that he felt, was no concern of Sirius’s. He didn’t give a bloody damn if Remus now saw what he had let slip through his fingers, or if he felt Sirius was being some kind of hypocrite, or any of the many things that could have been going through his dear friend’s head just then. He was beyond the point of caring.

“What do I think I’m doing, Lupin?” The same laughter colored his tone, amused, and he made no move to step away from Dorcas, keeping her rather unceremoniously pinned against the wall. “Something I should have done a long time ago.” It was suddenly, even in his altered mental state, blindingly obvious to him. Remus would never care for him, and judging by the way Dorcas had reacted to his sudden kiss (by going along with it instead of punching him in the face, as she had incidentally done last time he’d tried such a thing), she felt something. It was enough to carry him through the next few moments, watching Remus clench his fists, hold in the anger that so clearly raged through him. Let it out, damn it! Sirius wanted to scream, though he too restrained it. Stand up and hit me like a man, and prove you still feel something! At least the pain of a violent confrontation could anchor him more than this silence.

“Don’t worry, I will,” Sirius snarled after Remus, as he made his exit. “Damn right you don’t care.” Not about me. He was not governed by what Remus thought he ought to do, and as Remus was the one who had just stabbed him in the back, he had no right! No right at all to judge him by his impassioned actions. Remus had just betrayed him, and he didn’t even have the balls to come out and say anything about it, no. Instead he chose to stand there like a fucking saint and pass judgement on what he did after a betrayal! Like he gave a damn anyway. He had just said he didn’t care, and yet there was still that anger in him, as Sirius watched him walk away, flee like a coward.

The slam of the portrait hole closing was the slap in the face that brought Sirius back.

Oh God. Oh Merlin. The anger slid away from him like some demon that had possessed him, leaving him empty and aching, as sudden realization shot through him. I just lost Remus. My Remus. As that door shut, so would the door on their friendship. They might never speak to one another again. What had he been thinking?! Remus knew nothing about how he felt about him….or hadn’t known until tonight. If he ever got it through his thick skull. Sirius had just given himself away, in a blaze of glory, in front of someone else. In front of Ezra of all people. And…and…since when was Remus gay?! Merlin. And sleeping with that little sixth-year over him. He had every right to be furious, he still wanted to tear the boy’s throat out, but…but…now he had lost Remus as a friend. Forget the damn romantics…his best friend had just walked out on him, mad as all hell, and he had lost far too much.

“Cassie.” Her name left him softly, as Sirius lurched away from her, moving to collapse onto the nearest sofa, lowering his face into his hands. Merlin…Cassie. He had used her, again. And For what? To bury himself in, to forget what it was to feel. She had been the receptacle for his burning anger, just as before she had been the object of a cruel joke. She, too, was his best friend. And he had known she felt something for him….and manipulated it. He was despicable. He would remain livid at Remus for weeks, but even he understood that now he too was in the wrong, for his cold-hearted revenge. What was he, a libertine? He could have found someone else to snog into a wall. Someone who wasn’t Dorcas Meadowes. But….she might not leave him, if he didn’t tell her. She might remain. He could pursue the strange feeling that sparked in him at the touch of her lips, and throw Remus from his mind. He had fled her before over Remus, and now it seemed that he no longer had that distraction to pull him away.

“I’m so sorry, Cass.” Sirius lifted his head, looking at her with an expression that had gone from furious to exhausted. The Black temper took quite a lot out of the actual Black that it inhabited. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into all this…Remus and I just had a bit of a row. Over…well, who we were dating. And…” And why the hell did his love life have to be this complicated? Most blokes had enough trouble dealing with fancying women, let alone men. “I think I’m done thinking about this now, Cass. I think…” Remus was gone. It was an unavoidable fact. “I think I’ve made up my mind.”

[dorcas meadowes]

( lord almighty, i feel my temperature rising )
( higher and higher, it's burning through to my soul )

Sparks flew as Sirius's lips stayed focused on Cassie, as hers stayed focused on him. Things were getting hotter and hotter by the second, and soon something would ignite. There was a sizzling sensation throughout her whole being. She had never quite expected her first snog session with Sirius would be quite like this, and she had most definitely had not seen her being pinned to a wall part of the picture, but it worked for her. If this meant that Sirius had feelings for her as more than just a sister, she would accept practically anything with open arms. Her hands grabbed at his hair, and she was suddenly forced to release his luscious locks as he pulled away.

Her eyes glanced away from her lover boy to see the brunette that had entered the room, who was none other than one of the very best friends of Sirius: Remus Lupin. His face was contorted with pure disgust and displeasure of what he was viewing. But when his words sliced like a knife through butter–even though she had not a single clue to what was infuriating the boy–Sirius gave nothing but a maniacal laugh. Something was fairly wrong with the situation. Though they had their petty arguments about relying on Remus too much for homework assignment completion and such, they had never gone as vicious as this.

Sneers, running off, the slamming of doors – it was something out of a muggle soap opera. Dorcas, to say the least, was slightly frightened by this. She had never seen either so cruel in her life. If she could’ve backed away, she would’ve, but she was about as backed into a wall as you can get. Her eyes rounded out in the shock of it all, and had she been a little girl, she might’ve even whimpered like an abused puppy. She was standing on the sidelines of a nasty dispute between two friends of hers. Almost inclined to compare this to a football game gone bad, if she were a cheerleader, she told herself, she had no idea who was winning. If anything, both sides were losing.

“Sirius,” The word escaped her lips in a breath. “What’s up with you and Remus?” But even if she hadn’t even spoken her words, she would have still received her answer. Having been released, she collapsed on the floor. “In all my goddamned life, I have never seen you two like that. Over dating people? That makes it even worse! Remus has never had a single problem with who you go about with before, and Remus’s choices can’t be that bad – he’s a respectable kind of guy. There must be something else to it that made it hurt both of you so much,”

It seemed only natural to walk over to Sirius and sit on his lap. She gave the lightest peck on his cheek and hugged him tightly. “I don’t know if this is the right word, but it freaked me out. Scared the living daylights out of me, and not a lot of things can do that. Death Eaters can’t do that, Voldemort can’t do that, and if I could, I would laugh in the face of Death.” She let him speak a little more. “Sirius Orion goddamned Black, I’m not making you choose your friends. If it’s easier for you if I step back on our relationship level, I’ll try. But I don’t want to be a part of breaking up the infamous Marauders,” She got off his lap, and stuck out her hands, backing away.

When she was little, she learned not to play with the fire, or someone could get hurt. And today, she knew she wasn’t the only person being burned.

( i feel my temperature rising, help me, i'm flaming )
( i must be a hundred and nine )