CHAPTER FOUR
✧
-: seventh year :-
─ IN WHICH THE FIRST
DAY CONTINUES
. . .
THERE WAS A SHEET OF PARCHMENT, folded into quarters, burning a hole in the breast pocket of James's school shirt. He couldn't exactly explain it, nor could he bring it up with his friends because, well, that would mean he would have to explain that somehow, somewhere along reading the list, he decided to follow the advice.
It was a stupid idea - it was so, so stupid, but somehow he thought that somewhere along the way Sirius might not have actually lost his mind amongst all the girls and cigarettes and drink. He managed to find his way to Remus, did not? If there was one prevailing thought in his mind, it was that acute awareness that Sirius somehow knew what he was talking about, and wasn't always completely talking out of his arse.
There just seemed to be some kind of potential in that scrawled note. He remembered it now, the night when it happened, and he certainly hadn't thought of it since. They had gotten considerably drunk that night, and Peter had gotten all touchy-feely and emotional about this Hufflepuff girl with that name... that name... the name that James could neither pronounce nor remember in the year above.
And Peter, who James knew to be almost consistently bumbling and had been ever-so nervous before girls, had at least managed to bag... the Hufflepuff girl for a while. And he even knew how to pronounce her name, which was an esteemed feat in their group. He had been the one to convince Sirius to divulge all of his almost-forgotten heterosexual secrets to his friends, after all.
But he didn't dare think about the note as he delivered McGonagall's long-lost homework to the staffroom as quickly as he possibly could, in hopes of actually having some of the precious free time that morning break provided remaining by the time he caught up with his friends. Succeeding, he arrived at the Great Hall with just over ten minutes to spare, finding Sirius, Remus and Peter at the Gryffindor table.
"Gentlemen." James dug his hands into his pockets as he approached the group of three. "Second breakfast, Moony?" He asked, as he watched Remus wolf down a bacon sandwich. Sirius was sat next to him on the table, dishes, mugs and cutlery pushed haphazardly behind him to make room.
"He's still recovering from the last full moon." Sirius replied, as it seemed his boyfriend was altogether too busy to. "We have Potions at the end of the day, by the way. Slughorn came over looking for you."
"Brilliant." James let out a sigh. That was exactly what he needed; he had finally gotten back in his groove since Lily had broken up with him, and a plan formulating - a plan that definitely wasn't based on that stupid list that Peter had lost during copying his homework - and now Professor Slughorn was going to be hanging around him constantly. "He can't just leave me alone, can he?"
"That's what you get with a big ego." Peter hummed, and Remus hid his laugh through another bite of sausage.
"Shitting hell, Peter, not you too!" James whined. "I've got it badly enough with those two, but now you're joining in too?"
The other three laughed at that, the sight on the Potter's face something of a picture.
"Mr Black, the tables are for eating on and the benches for sitting on, not to rest your feet." McGonagall's sharp voice interrupted their laughter, just as James was gearing up for another round of insults.
"C'mon, Professor." Sirius drawled, although he looked like he was already sliding forwards, ready to get off the table. "Do you really expect me to sit amongst all the peasants?" He asked. Remus looked up, just as he was smearing ketchup over his second bacon butty. "Not you, Moony, the rest of them."
"Mr Black, the tables are not for sitting on." McGonagall reiterated and Sirius slid off, still muttering apologies to his boyfriend. "Potter, your homework?"
"Gave it to Flitwick up in the staffroom. Didn't reckon I'd see you again so soon." James shrugged with that small, idiotic smile, digging his hands into his pockets.
"Professor Flitwick." Their head of house corrected. "Am I to expect your homework to be properly completed, or will it be some half-arsed attempt?"
"Professor, language!" James blinked, falsified surprise covering his features. "I've come to expect more than you-"
"Potter, you are in your seventh year, I'm sure you can handle a few weak expletives." McGonagall replied drily. "Well?"
"Fully completed, Professor. Just got lost in all my things, I'm a very busy guy, what with the Quidditch and the Head-Boy thing and y'know.... everything."
"As if." Sirius snickered somewhere behind him, and James rolled his eyes.
"I hope you are prepared to take this year seriously, Potter." McGonagall said, pointedly, before turning in a swish of her emerald robes and stalking off down the main hall, leaving
"Did you actually do the homework?" Remus looked somewhat concerned.
"Yes! It took me all of five minutes." James rolled his eyes. "Who do you think I am? Peter?"
"Hey! I finished the homework during the holidays... I just forgot to give it back to you before going on holiday?" Peter protested. "I do more school work than you do!"
"Yeah, okay, Pete." Sirius shook his head, sitting backwards on one of the benches now, the edge of the table digging a ridge into his back. He leaned towards his boyfriend, using the tip of his finger to mess with Remus's less-than-perfect collar. "Gotta go to Defence now." He hummed.
"Alright, fuck off you clingy shit." Remus sat back, using one of the stray napkins to wipe his fingers. James grinned, and Sirius rolled his eyes, jumping up and holding out his hands.
Remus didn't say anything, sliding out and up off the bench, ignoring his boyfriend's pleas as he wandered off, intending to make his way straight up to their next classroom - his journey was destined to be disrupted if Sirius had anything to do with it.
"They're sickening." James wrinkled his nose. "Do you reckon Moody'll ever do that?""
"Fuck off." Peter laughed. "Oh - shit, you're serious. Yeah, sure, James, Moody'll do that... sure she will."
"You're such a fucking dick, Peter." James shook his head as the two of them set off. The folded list in his chest pocket wrinkled with movement and he adjusted his top, finding a small urge to ask Peter if any of the advice actually worked. But, almost instantly, he decided against it, changing the topic. "What d'ya think this new teacher will be like, then?"
✧
"Do you reckon Moody's any good at flying?" James asked under his breath, twirling his quill around as he stared aimlessly at the front of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
"Couldn't tell you, mate," Sirius leant back in his chair. "Haven't seen her flying since first year lessons."
"Yeah, but could she be?" He continued, his eyes landing on the back of a head of ginger hair, sat beside the smiling Marlene McKinnon, who was passing notes back to Lily behind her.
"You're not jeopardising your last year of being the Captain of the Quidditch team just to force that poor girl to spend more time with you." Sirius rolled his eyes. "I actually want to win the cup this year, and if you know what's good for you, so do you."
"We only lost last year because Ravenclaw substituted for Boothman during the second half and our tactics had been specifically designed for Vickers." James said, with a sigh, most definitely still bitter about it. That really wasn't a good end of the school year; he had just given up on Lily and suddenly he had lost his chance to win the Quidditch cup too - a nightmare, so it was. "And don't get me wrong, we're winning this year, I'm already thinking about try-outs..."
"You can't force Matilda to try out for Quidditch." Remus leant forward to whisper. "By the way, do either of you know what this new professor is on about? What was his name, as well, I didn't get it at the beginning."
"Loughty." James replied, twiddling his quill again, underlining the name at the top of the parchment and held it up so that Remus could scribble down the correct spelling. "Trust Raynott to fuck us over one last time and retire before we finish only to be replaced by some absolute drip." He rolled his eyes. "I know they come and go every year but Raynott was actually not that bad for teaching sixth year."
"I don't know... he seems alright." Peter said, distracted from his apt listening of Loughty's explanation of what they were to expect over the course of their final year of Defence Against the Dark Arts. "Looks like we'll be doing some pretty good things, and are you aware of how many practical studies we missed out last year because Raynott was too old?"
"It was an easy 'O'." James complained. "We used to use this class to plan Quidditch too."
"Can't do that during frees?" Remus asked, eyebrows raised. "And, considering you both have also expressed interest in becoming Aurors, you should both be aware that flying is a necessity."
"What's that got to do with anything?" James asked, leaning back in his chair so that it balanced dangerously on two legs and he swung to-and-fro between the two desks.
Remus let out a sigh, noting down something else that new teacher had said. "You were talking about somehow getting Matilda to try out for Quidditch?" He asked.
"Yeah, and?" Sirius looked similarly confused.
"She wants to be an Auror. Like her dad?" Remus shook his head. "To say you've been obsessed with her since you saw her in the common room last night, poor, poor girl, I thought you would be aware of that. Her dad's Alastor Moody."
"Oh, that's why her name rings a bell." Sirius hummed.
"It's not that you've had classes with her since first year?" Remus rose an eyebrow. "Or that, you know, she's a Gryffindor... been friends with Lily and Alice and all that lot for six years? Called you a twat several times when that whole thing with Mary happened?"
"No, Moony, obviously I knew her from that." He rolled his eyes, pulling a hand through his hair and shaking his head - his hair had been sitting uncomfortably neat. "My parents used to complain about him like nobody's business. Called Moody all sorts of un-pureblood names. Used to call his an 'Irish bastard' quite a lot as well."
"Yeah, that figures, considering your parents whole affiliation with what's-his-features." James murmured.
"You mean Voldemort?" Peter asked, eyes wide, shaking his head. "Yeah, that would probably do it, considering Moody's in the Prophet all the bloody time because he's captured... or killed about half of his followers."
"Yeah..." James nodded. "Yeah, that figures. Reckon she'd be pretty good at that sort of thing."
"Killing people?" Remus blanched.
"No... well... suppose so, yes. I mean like... she's all... you know, Irish."
"Jesus fucking Christ, Prongs, you're hopeless." Sirius let out a groan, his head tilting back. He froze, for just a second, when he realised that the classroom had fallen entirely silent and slowly, he sat up.
Professor Loughty was staring at him. "Mr..." He began, wand still pointed towards the chalkboard and the list upon it.
"Black." Sirius replied, slowly. Remus, James and Peter beside him waited, eyebrows raised.
"Mr Black, is something the matter?" Professor Loughty asked. "Do you need to take a visit to the Hospital Wing?" There were several giggles near the front of the class and Sirius cleared his throat, quite loftily.
"No, I'm alright." He replied. "Just not a big fan of... er..." He squinted, trying to see the board. "The, er... however you pronounced that last spell." Sirius wagered. The boys around him waited for a moment, certain that this was it.
"Ah, the Furnunculus Curse." Loughty nodded. "Yes, it doesn't sound particularly nice, does it?"
The four boys let out a sigh, one of relief, the others disappointment.
"Couldn't have fucked up just a bit, could you?" James hissed. "I almost won the bet then."
"You bet that Sirius is going to get the first detention every year." Peter mumbled, their voices dropped, considering the newly drawn attention to their back corner of the classroom.
"Five sickles, it happened third, fourth and fifth year!" The Potter continued, shaking his head. "It's almost a sure thing!"
"Almost a sure thing is not a sure thing." Sirius grinned, more than happy. "Moony, is there time to adjust the bets?"
Remus sighed. "Suppose so." He shook his head, reaching into his pocket to pull out a stray bit of folded parchment. "What are you wanting?"
"James'll have one by the end of the day." Sirius said, turning in his chair. "What d'ya reckon, Pete? Wanna go in on this with me?"
"Yeah, go on." Peter nodded.
"Mr Black, what is it now?" Loughty's voice echoed over to their desks.
"Can't spell to save my life, Professor." Sirius replied, to a tittering of laughter over the class. "Really, how can anyone expect anyone to spell that? Just call it the pimple jinx, for Merlin's sake."
And as Professor Loughty made a comment on Sirius's response, James's eyes landed on some sudden, unexpected attention. Matilda, along with the rest of the class, had turned around to look at Sirius's disruption once more, and she unwittingly met his gaze.
James smirked, and winked, only smiling more when she glared and decisively turned back to the front of the class, poising her quill over parchment once more and hurriedly writing down whatever the teacher was saying.
"Complete and utter drip." Sirius commented, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe there's hope for Quidditch plans yet."
✧