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Gryffindor's parties have always been celebrated as one of the house's defining features. Nobody glanced at their impressive history of victorious Quidditch games or their primitive stories of past bravery and strength — people instead focused on the wild, inebriated bacchanals that Gryffindor hosted.
Genevieve had yet to attend one of these parties. It was a miracle she had even survived this long without going to one. Sirius had tried to persuade her to go at every chance he could, talking about the memories made and the key scenes he found hilarious, but she remained unmoved. That was until now. Sirius had been ceaselessly bugging Genevieve to go to the party Gryffindor was throwing in celebration of their victory. There was a method to his madness after all - he managed to get Genevieve to say yes just so he would shut up.
"You're going to get sooo drunk," Marlene told Genevieve as they got ready in the dormitory, a grin on her face at just the thought. "Stop blinking, you're going to ruin your eyeliner," she scolded.
"I can't help it, I keep thinking you're going to take my eye out," Genevieve nagged, "and I'm not a bloody idiot; I'm pretty sure I can handle a drink or two."
"You said that about the bottle of tequila," Lily reminded, reminiscing about their drunken night back home.
"It's different now. I have nothing to be sad about." She couldn't tell if that was a lie or not. Genevieve just knew that she needed some release from the unwavering sense of anxiety that being so far away from home during dangerous times gave her - and she knew alcohol could do just that trick.
"You don't need to be sad to get drunk," Alice said. "You'll see that soon enough."
Alice was right. When Marlene finally released Genevieve from their makeover session, dressed up in a red mini dress and Go-Go boots, the party held in the common room had been alive for a total of ten minutes. Already there were teenagers dancing around the room and clutching bottles of Firewhiskey like their lives depended on it.
One of these people was Sirius, who made sure to rush to her side the moment she descended the dormitory stairs and link arms with her. It was hard to distinguish his sharp features in the dark lighting of the room, but his silver eyes were still noticeably gleaming with a sense of fun. "First party, Silvy," he said, already too cheerful to be sober. "How are we feeling already?"
"Like I need a drink," Genevieve replied, shouting over the booming music.
Sirius's lips tugged into a wicked grin, almost as if he were proud of her for saying such a thing. "The drink table is over there. Peter's there controlling the music, I think." He pointed to the corner of the room. "You look good, by the way. A spitting image of Cher!"
Genevieve wanted to say thank you, but Sirius had already gotten distracted by a dark-haired boy and was following him as quickly as he could. Peter was where Sirius said he was, guarding the party food they had snuck from the kitchens earlier. In one hand he held a slice of pizza, and in the other he clutched tightly onto a bottle of Butterbeer. "The two necessities," Genevieve said as she approached.
"These are the two prime things in my life," said Peter, a joyful smile on his face. "You need to try the pizza."
"I'll have a bit later. Right now I just really want something to drink." Genevieve picked up a bottle of Firewhisky, cracked it open, then tipped as much of it as she could down her throat. "How do people drink this?" she grimaced.
"Alcohol tastes like water when you're drunk," said Peter. "So I guess it doesn't really matter about the taste. Have you seen Prongs and Evans?" He pointed to the centre of the room where the two were dancing. She was laughing at the way his messy curls bounced on top of his head when he made quick moves, and he was acting like an idiot in order to keep her laughing.
"They're cute," she said.
"He's gonna' be sick if he's not careful," Peter muttered. "Remus is on the sofa, by the way. He doesn't really dance, but you can try to make him."
"Have you not met me, Worms?" Genevieve asked. "I always get what I want."
With that, she sauntered over to the sofa she and Remus usually sat on in front of the fire. He had a dazed look on his face, too lost in thought to care about the music or the food. He stayed in his trance-like-state until Genevieve came into view. For a moment he was confused as to who she was, but then his eyes widened slightly and his bottom jaw hung low. "Hi," she said.
It took him a moment to find words, his eyes too busy skimming every feature of her face and the rest of her body. "Hey," he quickly said after realising he hadn't replied. His eyes squinted in confusion. "How did I manage to get with you?" he asked, more to himself.
The corners of her eyes crinkled as she laughed. "You seem flustered."
"I am," Remus marvelled, his eyes still fixated on her. "I really am."
"Come dance with me," Genevieve said, taking her hand in his. He didn't budge from the sofa, though, and instead smiled apologetically at her. She tugged at his hand again. "Come dance with me."
"I can't dance."
"Yes, you can," Genevieve retorted. "I've seen you dance to Bowie when you thought no-one was watching." A thought popped into her head, like a light bulb illuminating a dark room. "Peter!" she yelled to the boy controlling the music. "Put a bit of Bowie on!"
Peter nodded and ran to the record player that had been enhanced by a charm. Just as recommended, David Bowie's voice began to fill up the whole room, the opening beat for Suffragette City making a smile dawn on Genevieve's face. "Now you have to," she said, taking a drink from her Firewhisky and then dragging Remus onto the floor.
"No. No, Genevieve, no," Remus protested, trying to fight away his smile. "I'll embarrass the both of us."
"I can't hear you!" Genevieve laughed, spinning herself under his arm and began to dance.
Remus didn't move at first. He stood in the middle of the floor with her, scratching the back of his neck nervously and mostly watching her dance. In his opinion, she was a talented dancer. That could have been because he was biased, and believed anything Genevieve did was brilliant, but he couldn't take his eyes away from her. Her body moved in sharp, energetic movements, and she never paused for breath. It amazed him how someone could be so lively, but then again, Genevieve had always been like this.
As the song went on, Remus began to dance more. He was stiff as a board, but when Genevieve took his hands and began to dance with him, he loosened up a little. She couldn't help but laugh at his unsure expression, but also couldn't help but find it cute. They varied on dancing through the Ramones, T. Rex, Queen and Fleetwood Mac. It might have been the increasing amount of alcohol being poured into Genevieve's system, or it might have been the constant energy she always had, but she never slowed once. Remus, however, was getting tired and she could tell.
"Do you wanna go sit down?" Genevieve asked. "I'll go dance with Sirius. He's looking lonely."
Remus nodded and took a gulp of his Butterbeer in order to regain his breath. "I'll be over there," Remus said, pointing to the sofa he had previously been sitting on, "trying to regulate my heart rate
Genevieve found Sirius among the throng of people almost as soon as Remus left. Soon enough they were spinning each other around the room and dancing so wildly that people were either cheering them on or sending concerned looks. As the night stretched out longer, so did their craving for alcohol. Nothing fuelled them more than the pleasurable burn of Firewhiskey scorching their throat. There was a reason Sirius and Genevieve had never been trusted when together, and that was because they both encouraged each other to do stupid things. The party only proved that they were lethal as drinking buddies too.
As the number of empty Firewhiskey glasses increased on the table next to Genevieve, Remus couldn't help but watch from the sofa with concern. If it wasn't for Sirius holding her hands, she would have no balance whatsoever. He was no better than her, though. If anything, his pile of empty bottles was bigger. How they hadn't passed out yet was a mystery to Remus. He couldn't help but feel a little annoyance at Sirius as he watched her leave Genevieve by herself. He thought it was a rule not to leave anybody that drunk alone at a party.
Remus got up from his seat and made his way to her, placing a hand on her waist when she was in reach. She turned around, unafraid as she could already tell from the soft yet strong touch who it was, and smiled up at him happily. "Hey, stranger," she said, planting a kiss on his lips.
"Where did Sirius go?" Remus asked, authority in his voice.
"To get us another drink." She held up the bottle in her hand. "This one's on its last leg."
"You really shouldn't be having another, Gen," said Remus, a hint of disappointment on his face. "You're going to be sick tomorrow--"
"Dance with me!" Genevieve interrupted as Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes came on, already moving to the intro. "I have a newfound passion for dance."
"I can see that," Remus answered, but she couldn't hear his quiet voice over the music. Her slender hands placed themselves on his shoulders, swinging them both in rhythm to the music. She wasn't looking at him, too busy singing along to the lyrics as loudly as she could with her eyes closed, but he couldn't detach his from her. He feared that if he looked away he would miss something valuable.
He bent to her level and said in her ear, "You remind me of this song."
She snapped her eyes open, a gleeful look taking over her face. "Really?!"
"Yeah. It's practically written about you. Clothes kinda' funny, hair wild and free, talking lazy, people think you're crazy. It's you in a nutshell."
Genevieve smiled up at him more brightly than she had ever seen before. He couldn't tell if the red in her cheeks was from him or the dancing, but he liked to think it was from him. "I like being compared to a song," she said, drinking the last of her Firewhiskey.
Remus eyed the bottle as she did so. "You have another and you're gonna get alcohol poisoning, love."
"I'm fine."
"Say Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers."
"No."
With that, Remus hauled Genevieve over his shoulder. "Oi! What are you doing, Rem?" she protested loudly, her face scrunched up in both confusion and anger.
"Taking you to the dormitory, now stop kicking your feet around like a loon before one of your boots takes my eye out!"
Genevieve groaned and went limp, allowing him to easily carry her up the stairs. A smirk tugged at her lips. "This ain't all that bad, y'know," Genevieve said, her voice returning to a normal volume as the music began fade away. "I have a nice view of your arse."
"Must you always flirt with me?" Remus sighed, but she could hear the smile in his voice.
"Flirt is my middle name."
"No, it's Mary," Remus corrected.
"And yours is John."
"Well, I never knew that."
"You have a nice name."
She couldn't see it, but his smile widened and he let out a quiet laugh. "Thanks, my parents thought so too," he said, opening the door to the boys' dormitory. He let her down from the comfy position over his shoulder, making sure to hold her shoulder as she walked herself to Remus's bed. He was scared she would fall over in such high boots.
"Remus," she started muttering repeatedly. "Remus John Lupin. Lupin. I like Lupin." She sunk into his pillows and stared up at the draping curtains that covered his bed. She smiled dopily. "I like Remus."
"I should hope so," he said while rummaging through his wardrobe.
"Genevieve Lupin," she said.
Remus stopped searching for a sweater for her to wear. The crease in his brow softened as he turned to her, something new in his shimmering brown eyes. She was still looking at the curtains. "What did you just say?"
"Genevieve Lupin," she repeated. A small smile tugged at her lips. "I like it."
The name repeated over and over again in Remus's mind, making his expression match hers. He didn't know if what Genevieve was saying was due to her drunken mind, but he decided not to think too much about that. "I like it, too," he said, grabbing a jumper and a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms for her.
She thanked him while taking off her boots. Then, without warning, she slipped her dress down her body. Although he hadn't even been looking in her direction, Remus turned to face the wall in order to give her some privacy and tried his hardest to fight away his blush. "Cute," Genevieve snickered quietly. Remus's clothes were much too big for her, especially the legs on his bottoms, but they were the cosiest clothes she had ever worn.
"You can turn around now." She smirked and added, "you didn't have to in the first place."
"Uh— right," Remus said, blushing. "That's good to know." When Genevieve looked blankly at him, he nervously continued. "For future possibilities." He could have melted when her smirk grew. He grabbed a pillow from James's bed and placed it on the floor beside his bed, then grabbed a blanket from his own.
"What are you doing?" she asked, watching with interest.
"Getting ready to go to sleep?"
"On the floor?" Genevieve said. Remus continued to stare at her with a dumbfounded expression. "We've slept together before," she recalled.
Remus ran a hand down his face and laughed. "You know what you're doing by phrasing it like that."
"Do I?"
"Yes," Remus replied, tugging back the covers and slipping into bed next to her. The moment he was comfy, Genevieve nestled into him, resting her head on his chest and intertwining their legs. She made it her mission to be as close to him as possible, seeking solace in the warmth he radiated.
There was a beat of silence.
"I'm not sleepy."
"Genevieve."
"I'm not!" she argued.
"Genevieve," Remus sigh-laughed.
"Remus," she mocked in a low-pitch voice.
He tried not to laugh. "Close your eyes," he murmured, removing her hair from the back of her neck.
"Fine," she said, "but it won't work because I'm not sleepy." The sluggish tone of her voice said otherwise to Remus. Two minutes later, the only thing that could be heard throughout the room was the dim music from the common room and Genevieve's soft snores. Remus stroked her spine with newfound curiosity. She was far from fragile, but in sleep she looked delicate. He found himself drifting away soon after her, their snores synced and their hands entwined.
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