"What's all the fuss about?" Myra wrinkled her nose as she looked up from the needle she had recently transfigured. Today, her braids were twisted back into a thick plait that swung heavily over her shoulders. "If I hear one more giggle, I'll—"
Liza grinned, flicking her wand and causing her needle to hover in the air, twisting in a series of cartwheels. "It's the ball, my dear. It sets the hearts of females everywhere a pounding."
"Is Halloween that soon?" Myra's eyes widened briefly before she ducked her head, pretending to still be working on their task as McGonagall passed by. The girl hated any sort of attention, even praise from the professors. On more than one occasion, she had feigned difficulty to be left alone.
Liza paused her needle, eyeing the back of Rosier's head a few rows in front of her. Maybe if she angled the sharp point just right..
"Liza, what in Merlin's name are you looking at?"
She flinched to see Myra gazing at her with a suspicious expression, her brow crinkled.
"Nothing," she pressed her lips into what she hoped looked like an innocent smile as she let the needle drop back to the desk. It was an unfortunate missed opportunity.
Myra rolled her dark eyes, scooting back her chair gently as she walked to the end of the classroom. "Liza, you're only asking for trouble."
"He started it!" Liza broke herself off as she realized how childish her shrill retort sounded. "He's constantly threatening me, My. I think a prick or two would serve him right."
"And I don't understand how five years in Slytherin hasn't taught you not to make enemies of the wrong people." Myra didn't bother to slow for Liza as she lugged her bookbag behind her. Myra was the sort of naturally gifted type that didn't need to crack open a book. It certainly lightened her pace. "We're not children anymore, Liza. And the world just keeps getting darker."
They both sobered at the thought of the front page of the Daily Prophet this morning. There had been another attack, this time on a Muggle department store. The death toll of Voldemort's rage just seemed to keep rising.
"Oi, baby P!"
Liza turned around just in time to receive a heavy object thrown straight at her chest. "Wh—" she nearly let out a squeal as her gaze met the scarlet, unblinking orbs of Mrs. Norris.
Filch was going to kill her.
"WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE?" Sirius jerked his head as he continued to run past them with James hot on his heels. "RUN!"
Liza took off sprinting in the opposite direction, having absolutely no idea what was going on, but knowing that she had to put as much distance between her and the Hogwarts's caretaker as possible.
"YOU'LL PAY FOR—"
She lost the rest of Filch's statement as she darted onto the stairs that led up to the third floor, making sure to jump over the trick step. Liza had gotten stuck one too many times. Thankfully, the banister began to move right as her feet hit the floor, making it much more difficult for Filch to follow. Tucking the cat beneath her arm, Liza wondered what in Merlin's name the Marauders had done to the awful beast. The moment the staircase connected with the next landing, she took the ladder to the Transfiguration classroom two rungs at a time.
The classroom was eerily empty, silent outside of the ticking of several clocks inlaid on the farthest wall. Liza placed the body of the cat on top of one of the circular tables positioned throughout the staged steps, standing back as she placed a tentative hand on the soft fur. It looked like a rather simple petrification charm, but knowing Potter, it was something far nastier. Although the cat was a creature to be avoided, she still felt a stab of sympathy. Liza was all too familiar with being the victim of the Marauder's laughs.
Taking a step back, Liza waved her wand with a shudder, thankful when the hands of the clocks stopped moving. She hated the sound of ticking. It seemed to only promise the end of something.
She sat down in a chair with a huff, placing her chin in her hand and keeping a safe distance from Mrs. Norris. It would be her luck that the cat would wake up and gnaw her face off. And Merlin knew how long it would take for James and Sirius to find her.
Tapping the tip of her wand on her thigh to the rhythm of a Beatles song, Liza leaned forward and peered into the foggy midst of the crystal ball centered among the amethyst tablecloth. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to focus her attention on the object.
"Show me the future," she rasped in her best interpretation of Trelawney's voice.
The crystal ball remained unchanged, although Liza could have sworn that the blue-grey wisps had darkened in hue. With a sigh, she pushed herself from the table and nearly tripped over the low-hanging drapes. A position was a Seer certainly wasn't in her future.
"I don't know whether to laugh or be depressed."
Liza jerked her head up from the doorway to see Sirius leaning against the cobblestone corner, his arms crossed over his chest. His forehead glistened with the remnants of his dash from Filch, but the Gryffindor looked unfairly fit. She was all too self-conscious of her ragged waves.
Trying to pat her hair inconspicuously, Liza scowled as she jabbed her hand towards Mrs. Norris. "Take your blasted feline and leave me alone."
Sirius clicked his tongue, ambling over in her direction with a swagger in his step. He reminded Liza of James Dean, the muggle ill-fated hero battling his inner demons. Her fingers tapped nervously as he hovered over her shoulder, his words brushing the skin on her neck.
"For all that you insist on hating me, Prewett, you seem to always end up exactly where I am."
Cursing herself for the heat that thrummed against her cheeks, Liza quickly stepped away. "That is all of your own doing, might I remind you." Stalking towards the door, she didn't dare to look back. It was humiliating that Hogwarts' biggest playboy was having such an effect on her. She knew better than to let herself sink into the allure of Sirius Black.
"Oi, Prewett?"
She hovered in the doorway, just long enough to hear the smirk in Sirius's voice.
"Wear something a bit low-cut for me at the ball, will you?"
Liza grimaced. There. The allure was definitely gone.
"If I do, it certainly won't be for you."
---
"Hold still," Myra smacked Liza's shoulder as she touched up her hair. Liza watched their reflection in the mirror, still feeling slightly cautious. She couldn't erase the memory of Myra and Lily from her mind. It was the way that Myra's shoulders had lightened when she was with the Gryffindor that bothered Liza most. There was a happiness there that rivaled that of any Liza had witnessed.
"My, you're better with your wand curling my hair than in Charms," Liza observed, laughing silently at the furrows that appeared in her friend's brow. Myra detested being interrupted.
Giving the ends of her tresses a firm tug, Myra leaned over her shoulder. "That's because Flitwick's voice gives me a migraine."
Liza grinned, although she was distracted as she studied her reflection. Perhaps against her better nature, she had decided to display the part of a Greek goddess. A golden chain draped her forehead, highlighting the flecks of amber in her eyes while she smeared on a last layer of red lipstick. The silk of her toga was smooth against her bare skin, and she adjusted the belt about her waist once more, fiddling with the clasp.
Myra swatted her arm. "Don't you dare undo all my hard work." The Slytherin had chosen the look of an Egyptian queen, her black eyeliner thick and winged. A golden hairpiece offset her dark tones while her blue robes hung straight to the floor.
Eyeing her fuchsia lips in satisfaction, Liza gave her friend a mischievous smile. "You know you'll be glad you came with me."
A soft grunt emanated from Myra's lips as she turned towards the exit of the common room. The Slytherin girls had been quick to claim both dormitories as their personal dressing rooms, forcing the boys to find an empty closet or two in the dungeons. As such, the emerald and leather furniture were nearly unrecognizable beneath the massive weight of gowns and makeup.
Liza prodded at a particularly gaudy tutu, which shimmered a different color depending on the wearer's mood. "I'll never understand fashion."
Myra cast a last look in her direction, her nose wrinkling in disgust as she caught sight of the ghastly outfit. "I don't think I would label Talkalot's tastes as fashion."
The girls grimaced at the reminder of their Quidditch captain. Liza was grateful to have another female on the team, but Talkalot spared no mercy. The only benefit was the girl's personal joy in stripping points from the Marauders, being Prefect as well. Not that Dumbledore didn't find a way to give them back.
"Look at us," Liza gestured to their attire as they joined the occasional spurts of Slytherins merging in the dungeons. All the bustle was upstairs, well away from the encroaching cold. "Weren't Greece and Egypt allies?"
Myra's posture was wary as she eyed the passerby, clearly keen to avoid interaction. "Try Rome and Egypt." She winced as Liza nearly trod on her sandals. "Honestly, your lack of knowledge of muggle history is astounding."
"When you grow up with Gid and Fab, you're too worried about defending yourself to study the works of Caesar." Liza lifted the hem of her toga as they emerged into the main corridor. "I—"
Her voice fell away. In previous years, she and Myra had spent Halloween happily locked in their dormitory with a basket of sweets they had swiped from the twins (Liza would admit that being a Prewett occasionally had its benefits). Yet, Liza briefly regretted that decision, if only for the brilliant sight that lay before them.
The marble staircase had been enchanted to resemble black tile, the orange glare of the torches above reflecting in its surface so that it appeared ablaze. Garlands of spiderwebs were wrapped around the bannisters and Liza swore she saw an arachnid scuttle into the shadows below the last step.
To their right, giant pumpkins stood tall in the corners, large enough to hold several students at a time. She had seen Hagrid bring them into the castle, but now their flesh was carved to reveal all sorts of scenes: Merlin brandishing his wand, the London Eye, a rather ugly troll. Clusters of students babbled outside the Great Hall, from which trailed a great assortment of music.
A wide grin spread over Liza's face. "Just like magic."
Myra simply rolled her eyes and followed as Liza made their way to the entrance, which was entirely blocked by people. Liza found herself eyeing several of the other costumes, wondering whether hers compared before she stopped herself. Comparison was dangerous. She ran a reassuring hand down the side of her thigh. Looking at others benefitted no one.
The initial excitement Myra and Liza had felt quickly began to wear off as they grabbed mugs of pumpkin juice. The center of the hall had been dedicated as a dance floor, but the songs were either intended for couples or the few popular groups who were already organizing their own version of a mosh pit. Liza observed the band in disappointment, wishing that Hogwarts would be open to muggles. One of the greatest travesties of the wizarding world was their taste in music. Honesty, she mused, trying to sip her drink slowly in the attempt to look busy, who wanted to hear a song about a troll?
"Well, this is boring." Myra set her mug down on one of the side tables. Its iron legs curled, bending into a swoop before it scurried away of its own accord.
Liza hummed in agreement. As she took another sip, her gaze caught on the front doors, and she grimaced. "The party has arrived."
It was as though her words had commanded it. The torches above them immediately flickered out and the crowd was immersed in darkness. Liza could scarcely see her fingers in front of her faces. A few screams echoed in response, but most of the student body just grumbled quietly. With the Marauders, they had learned it was easier to just let things happen. Fighting was pointless.
The iconic sound of an electric guitar began to strum over the giant beatbox Liza had just realized was affixed to the ceiling.
Cringing at the strums, Myra bared her white teeth. "Is that—"
"ACDC," Liza confirmed, secretly thankful for the break in songs. A curl of fog swept over her ankles, pulsing with the beat of 'It's a Long Way to the Top." She tried not to smile as the torches flickered, announcing the arrival of the four Gryffindors.
"IT'S A LONG WAY—"
A spotlight burst over the floor, revealing the boys' dark figures. As her eyes adjusted to the light, Liza attempted to pick out who was who. If not for their ridiculous costumes, she would have easily recognized each Marauder from their dance moves alone. They appeared to be going with a sort of pirate theme, although there was far more skin exposed than Liza had ever seen in old paintings.
James had clearly chosen captain. Liza suppressed an eyeroll as he swept a black hat from his ragged bangs with a bow. The bespectacled marauder would never share the spotlight with anyone else. Beside him, Peter awkwardly shimmied as he loaded another firework into the cannon, his fingers coated with gunpowder.
"McGonagall's going to implode," Myra observed, wincing at the following explosion.
Liza pursed her lips sourly, reaching for a glass of punch. She was almost certain it was spiked. Alcoholic drinks were her brothers' specialty. "They get away with everything. Trust me, I grew up with Fab and Gid. All they have to do is smile and all is forgiven."
"Not that you hold a grudge or anything—"
Losing the rest of Myra's comment, Liza's gaze caught on Sirius Black. She choked on her drink, nearly spitting the vodka onto the tablecloth in front of them. True to form, his attire was the most scandalous of all.
Sirius Black was clearly first mate, with his arm around Remus's shoulders. The latter clutched a map begrudgingly in his hands as he attempted to duck out of his friend's grasp. Sirius's curls had been tamed around his forehead before being slicked back into a low ponytail that bushed out in a ragged bunch. Several golden chains hung over his collarbone, accenting the bare chest that was exposed beneath the folds of his tunic.
"Merlin, could his pants be any tighter?" Myra was clearly not impressed. She had been ever more critical of the sixth year after Liza's experience in Gryffindor Tower. Her dark eyes scrunched in revulsion.
Liza dipped her head, attempting a neutral expression and hiding the rest of her mouth behind her mug. "The worst."
She didn't have to turn her head to notice the skeptical glare her housemate was giving her. Turning back away from the crowd, Liza drew in a shaky breath. The masses of students were beginning to wear on her senses. Body heat pulsed across the room, an uneven rhythm to the drumbeats that shook the cobblestone.
"Where's Reg?" Liza surveyed the main door worriedly as Myra slid in beside her, pressing her back against the pillar. "He said he'd be Hercules."
There was a long pause in which Myra regarded her with a pitying expression. Liza felt a hot rush of irritation.
"Death Eater meeting I assume?"
The words burst from her lips far more loudly than she meant. Myra flinched and Liza immediately retracted.
"Sorry." She worried the edge of her bottom lip between her teeth. "He just won't tell me anything."
The rock music that pounded above rose another level, which Liza hadn't thought was possible. Myra sighed, brushing the ends of her wig over her shoulder. She leaned closer to Liza's shoulder to be heard. "The only reason he confesses to me is because my family's involved too. His father's in deep."
Liza closed her eyes, feeling the pinprick of tears. The party around seemed to taunt them, a cruel reminder that the costumes and cheers were but a show. Beyond the castle walls raged a war, one that was eagerly waiting for new victims to consume.
"Hey," Myra laid a gentle hand on her arm. "You need to enjoy yourself. The war will always be there. This?" She gestured towards the throngs of dancers. "We need to appreciate every moment."
Chewing on her lip, Liza grimaced as she saw her brothers making their way towards the band. The music was about to get much dirtier. Molly had invested in a pair of earplugs that filtered out any profanities solely due to the twins' music taste.
"Damn."
Liza barely heard Myra's hushed whisper as she turned to look across the room, where Marlene McKinnon was thrusting her hips to the beat. Beside her stood a stunning redhead, her pale figure covered in an assortment of vines that accented out the crimson highlights in her hair. Then Liza blinked.
"Is that—"
"Lily Evans," Myra confirmed, her dark lips parted in shock. "The bookish prefect has shed her knee-highs."
Liza grimaced as she caught sight of a dark hat bobbing in the girl's direction. "And James has taken notice."
To her surprise, Myra didn't jump at the opportunity to bash the reckless Gryffindor. Instead, she took a long gulp of punch, draining her glass. "Let's dance."
Silently shoving her friend's reaction into a mental folder to analyze later, Liza grabbed Myra's hand as she dragged them into the center of the hall. The chaos of protruding limbs and silk trains didn't faze either girl as they pushed their way towards the center. Still, Liza was careful to stay towards the outside of the mass. She didn't fancy getting caught up in whatever disaster Potter had conjured tonight.
"Enjoying the music, lass?"
Liza schooled her face into a neutral expression as she slowly turned around, eyeing Sirius cautiously. "Lass?" her tone clearly conveyed her disapproval. The Gryffindor shot her a careless smirk, the hint of a dimple darkening his chin.
"You didn't answer my question."
Feeling rather nervous, Liza began to twirl one of the bangles on her wrist, looking over her shoulder into the throngs of students. Flitwick had been nearly lost beneath the swarm, his mop of hair flopping as he bounced to the beat. She wished she could siphon just a bit of his energy.
"I could do with a bit more Queen."
She glanced over to see Sirius observing her with a shrewd expression.
"You're an enigma, Prewett."
Heat pulsed through the room and Liza wiped her forehead, cringing at the beads of sweat that had begun to blossom on her hairline. "I'm going to take that as an insult—"
But Sirius had already turned away, waving to James with what Liza had just realized was a hook. Whatever magic the Gryffindor had used to transform his hand was beyond McGonagall's basic instruction. Once again, she was hit with the suspicion that there was more to the Marauders than their endless pranks.
"OI PRONGS!"
James jerked his head from where he had been drooling after Lily, who was still determined not to meet his gaze. Giving a grunt of annoyance, Sirius pulled off one of his boots before lugging it at his mate's head. The boy barely dodged the weapon.
"Bloody—" James rubbed at his unruly locks with a scowl. "WHAT?" His boisterous voice was nearly lost in the clamor between them.
Sirius nodded towards Liza. "The lady requests Freddie."
Trying not to shrink back under James's skeptical glance, Liza pursed her lips tightly.
"Merlin, Padfoot." James rolled his eyes but turned back towards the radio that floated over their heads. "The number of times you make me set up your conquests." He shot his friend a sour look while he pulled out his spyglass. With an expert flick, his wand was revealed from within the golden sphere. "I'm sleeping in the dorm tonight, thanks."
"That's not—"
Sirius interrupted Liza's splutters as he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the center of the circle. Right on cue, the bright tones of Freddie Mercury rang against the stone walls.
"A HAND ABOVE THE WATER. AN ANGEL REACHING FOR THE SKY."
Putting more distance between herself and the wizard turned pirate, Liza let herself dissolve in the crowd, which of course were largely Gryffindors. The lions never lost a chance to be in the spotlight.
"Only the Good Die Young? Bit mournful for tonight, don't you think?"
Sirius shrugged, grabbing a glass of punch from the nearest seventh year. He downed its contents in a single swallow before wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "What better time to accept death?" Following Liza's shuttered glance, he gestured at the Halloween streamers floating from the ceiling. "Bloody Baron should be arriving any minute."
"Right," Liza forced a chuckle, pulling her hair back into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. Her thoughts had instantly strayed towards the war, which reminded her of Regulus. It seemed wrong that she should be here tonight. Not to mention dancing carelessly with his brother.
"I never understood why the Slytherins get the best mascots," Sirius complained ruefully, eyeing the Fat Friar, who was mournfully soaring across the banquet table. "Our ghost talks about nothing but his bloody neck. Think he would have had plenty of time to get over it."
Suppressing a chuckle, Liza was determined not to let her agreement show. She had never been fond of Nearly Headless Nick. The only ghost worse was Moaning Myrtle. "Didn't he die in the fifteenth century?"
"Ah, but he is still denied entrance into the Headless Hunt," Sirius spun her quickly and Liza tried to ignore the warmth of his palm against her hip. She could nearly feel his skin through the thin fabric of her toga. "If you ever have a day to waste, try asking him about it."
"I can think of a far better forms of torture, thanks." Liza ducked under his arm, casting another glance at James. The bespectacled boy was still pining after Lily with a forlorn expression. "He doesn't give up, does he?"
"Determination and courage, remember?" Sirius grinned, pulling the tie out of his hair so that his dark curls fell in a cascade about his shoulders. Clumps of strands near his neck were clumped together with the remains of hair gel.
Humming in disapproval, Liza slowed as the music changed to a soulful croon. It sounded like an American ballad, although she was not as much familiar with songs from across the ocean. "I think it's far more important to know when it's time to give up. Why waste his time?"
Sirius let out a slow sigh, sobering ever so slightly. "But James doesn't see it as a waste."
"Well, he should," rolling her eyes, Liza stepped towards the side of the dancefloor. "A girl like Lily has set her sights far higher than—"
"Then what?" the edge to Sirius's tone warned her to respond carefully, but Liza's tongue had already formed her opinion.
"A bigheaded git who couldn't see beyond himself if he was hit with a Bludger."
A disbelieving snort made Sirius's nostrils flare with irritation. "You're right charming, you know that?"
Using a group of Ravenclaws as a barrier between her and the wizard, Liza folded her arms over her chest. "I speak what I see."
Sirius dodged her makeshift wall easily, pressing close so that his breath fanned her cheeks. The smell of Firewhiskey was sour on his breath and Liza wondered, not for the first time, what demons the boy was trying to lose. "Don't speak about James like that when you don't know a thing about him."
"I've gone to school with him for six years!" Liza's tone was indignant as her temper flared. Too afraid to step forward, she held her ground and stared at Sirius with a narrowed brow. This close, she could see the lengthening stubble that ran across his jaw.
"He's the only one who's always looked out for me."
There was a long pause as Liza scanned over his angered expression. Sincerity blazing in his grey eyes, smoldering them a dark charcoal. Gritting her teeth, she shook her head. "Or maybe you're ignoring everyone else."
Thinking of Regulus sent a jolt of worry through her stomach. Perhaps the Slytherin was back in the common room.
Without another word, she turned away from Sirius and pushed her way back towards the entrance to the Great Hall. Thankfully, the outskirts of the crowd had thinned as students had begun to return to their beds or to a private corner for a snog.
Running a sweaty hand through her ragged locks, Liza puffed out a low breath. Where was Myra when you needed her?