For Chilla

[thornyrose42]

Because I was foolish enough to mention it to her.

OK so this needs a bit of back story, basically Sirius got Sorted into Slytherin and after a few weeks of tantrus from him and bullying from Bella and the Boys, Lily finds him in a random room looking rather bleak and some how they get talking and well, talk their anger and problems out on each other. So they become friends. 

Here are some extracts:

She finally found him in the mostly abandoned hideout somewhere in the middle of the South Tower. He was sitting in his old position on the widow-sill, arms wrapped around his knees, head turned toward the outside world. For a moment she could almost kid herself that they were back in their second year, sneaking away from the world for a few short hours to talk about anything and everything under the sun. Then she saw the disaster he had wreaked on the room, only last year was it? It seemed a lifetime away. Dust now covered the smashed chairs, the small fireplace was cold and the room smelt of neglect. How things had changed.

 

Her gaze fell once again upon the boy at the window sill, back turned very determinedly towards her. She suppressed a sigh, situations might change, but it seemed that some people never did. Cautiously she crossed the grimy floor, skirting the broken glass that lay near the door but stooping to pick up the picture that lay next to the shards to place the frame carefully upon the only table that had escaped the slaughter. She regretted throwing it now.

 

If the boy heard her he gave no sign but then again she hadn’t expected him to, he wasn’t one to forgive and forget. She had to make the effort though; she had to try to mend the rift. She would have been kidding herself though if she said that she was doing it for anything but selfish reasons. After a year with his brooding presence hanging over her she was sick to the back teeth of the feelings of remorse and anger he conjured up. It defiantly wasn’t because she missed him, because she didn’t, not one bit, she just didn’t like loose threads trailing along behind her. Yes, purely selfish reasons.

 

Surprisingly, it was him who spoke first.

 

“I wondered whether you’d come.”

 

“I don’t break my promises.”

 

He shrugged, “You might have forgotten, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you decided to spend the last night with him, don’t you have vows of eternal love to share or something?”

 

“He has a name you know,” She said with out rancour, then added, “He’s having a boys night out if you must know, from what I’ve gathered they plan to go down to the Three Broomsticks, get completely wasted then reminisce about all the good times until Rosmerta kicks them out.”

 

“Sounds like fun.” He said, slightly wistfully, she thought.

 

“Yes I thought so to, which is why I brought this,” She proffered the amber filled bottle towards him and he took it with a questioning look in her direction.

 

“I confiscated it from Danny Caspin last week,” She said in answer to his silent query, “He was intending to celebrate the end of exams, but I think we have something better to celebrate, don’t you?”

 

“A large bottle of this would keep a man celebrating for a month,” He said with just a hint of his old humour in his eyes, “used wisely.”

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of using it unwisely,” She said retrieving the bottle from him and uncorking it with a quick twist of her wrist. Glasses were produced from thin air and generous shots of the ochre liquid were poured into each, she passed one glass to him then raised her own glass. “To new beginnings.” She said solemnly then chucked back the shot, winching slightly at the bitter taste, she had never been one for spirits but tonight was a special occasion.

 

He stared at her, face blank then he quite deliberately placed his glass down beside him.

 

“Why did you come?”

 

“I told you, I don’t break my promises.”

 

“Don’t give me that crap, we both know that you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to be, promise or no promise.” His voice was bitter now almost angry, “You made it perfectly clear a year ago that you wanted nothing more to do with me and now you’re here again, strolling back in as though nothing had ever happened, as if you weren’t just about to go skipping merrily off into the sunset, hand in hand with your bloody Quidditch Captain.”

 

“OK, first off he is not my bloody Quidditch Captain; he is the team’s bloody Quidditch Captain, he is my bloody boyfriend. Secondly, you were the moron that practically chucked me out of here last year and thirdly…” She trailed off unsure of what to say, “I missed you.”

 

He blinked, temporarily floored by her quiet admission. Then he smiled the old smile that she could remember so well and took up his glass to toast her.

 

“And to old friendships, may they never be forgotten.” He drank, tossing it back as if it were water then slamming the glass down by his side. She returned his smile, inwardly rejoicing and topped up their glasses.

 

“Now, I’m sure I said something about reminiscing.”

 

***

  

The last time they had drank together had been the night after their last OWL, already high on the sudden release from tension and stress she had been more than willing to indulge in a bit of… rebelliousness. Slipping out of her dorm had been easy, after five years of living with them it had only taken five minutes of intent listening to determine whether or not her companions were truly asleep. Then she had slithered out of bed, cautiously donned the previously laid out clothes with suitable sneakiness and tiptoed out of the room, down the stairs and through the common room with no alarm being raised. The Fat Lady had been snoring loudly when she exited through the portrait hole, shifting only slightly in her sleep when her frame was softly shut.

 

The corridors were eerily empty, it seemed that even the ghosts had settled down for the night and if Filch was patrolling he was doing it elsewhere. She was shaking by the time she reached the mirror, from excitement she told herself firmly but then again she did make a mental note to wear thicker clothes next time she decided to wander the corridors at night. He must have sensed this because his first action upon seeing her was to force his cloak on her, ignoring her vain protests.

 

“There’s been a change of plan,” He said shortly, “Slughorn has organised a Staff night out, The Three Broomsticks will be too dangerous for us.” He cut off her sigh of resignation with a triumphant smile, “Don’t worry, I’ve got the perfect place.”

 

He had led her back upstairs, once again showing his almost complete mastery of Hogwarts secret ways. She had trailed after him and whispered queries; despite his continuing statements that it was a surprise and that she would find out when they got there. When the got “there” however there was nothing “there”. She was ready to go back to her nice warm bed but he paced up and down, angrily searching for the elusive room, muttering desperate pleas for it to “Bloody well get back where it damned well should be”. While this had been rather amusing it didn’t appear to be very fruitful, until on his fourth circuit of the corridor a door appeared, just as much to his surprise as hers.

 

The room was… perfect. Just, perfect.

 

A blazing fire flickered in the large hearth that took up the entire far wall, long comfortable benches were set into the sides of the inglenook and there was a sturdy cabinet full of glass decanters and goblets on each side of the massive fireplace. The walls were panelled with some sort of dark wood that made her think of what her father’s study ought to have been like and when she had finally stepped into the room in awestruck wonder she had found that the carpet was thick and deep. On impulse she had kicked off her shoes to squiggle her toes into the delicious softness.

 

“When I leave here, I’m going to have a room in my house exactly like this.” He had said quietly, handing her a glass half full of ruby-red wine

 

The events were a bit blurred after that but she did remember pulling him up into a dance that went from wild abandon to breathtaking slowness, and then she remembered the wonderful feeling of his hands on her face, the way she got lost in his eyes, the irresistible power of his body pressed against hers and finally the overwhelming feeling of pleasure that arose in her heart when he lent down to press his lips against hers.

 

She had no idea how long they stood there revelling in each other’s nearness, delighting in their newfound bliss, swaying to the music that only they could hear. But the time had been too short and when she had finally crept back into her freezing cold bed she could remember a longing for the summer to be over soon.

 

***             

 

“Psst”

 

She paused intrigued by the curtain’s sudden exclamation; she was still new enough to Hogwarts to be surprised at the inanimate objects refusal to stay, well inanimate. Her less inquisitive dorm mates continued on down the corridor, chatting loudly about the difficult homework assigned to them for tomorrow, the horribleness of the caretaker and the upcoming Quidditch tryouts.

 

“Psst.” Once again the curtain displayed its powers of speech.

 

“Err, hello?” This time the curtain sighed with exasperation, then sprouted an arm and pulled her behind it.

 

“Oh, it’s you.” She said rather awkwardly to the boy crouching beside her, “What do you want? And why are you hiding behind a curtain?”

 

“Well obviously I was hiding,” He said sarcastically, “attempting not to get my ears cursed off, wacky fun stuff like that.”

 

“Oh,” She said, they sat in a slightly awkward silence for a while, they almost simultaneously they spoke.

 

“You know we could…”

 

“What did you…”

 

“You go first.” They said together, smiling widely.

 

***

 

She had been holed up in the hospital wing, suffering from a bout of a disease know as Caraway’s Complaint. Although at that point she hadn’t really cared what its name was. She had just wanted to stop coughing up live baby chickens. They had scratched her throat into something resembling a battle site, left feathers in her mouth and she hadn’t even wanted to think what they were doing while they were travelling up her throat. 

 

At first she had thought it was a curse or something and she had trudged over to see Madam Pomfrey confident that everything would soon be resolved. Not so, as soon as she had reached the hospital wing surrounded by slightly soggy chicks she had been forced in to bed with a boiling hot water bottle, fed large amounts of some disgusting potion and told that she wasn’t allowed to stir from her bed for at least a week. Suffice to say she was not in the best of moods when late one night he had padded in.

 

“What on earth are you doing here?!” She had croaked.

 

“Bringing you some homework,” He had replied jumping up onto the foot of her bed, “budge up.”

 

“I got lots thanks, some complete muffin thought that I would hate to slip behind in my classes and so keeps bringing me all her notes from the lessons, unfortunately its quite hard to concentrate when chickens keep popping out of your mouth and pooping all over your Charms diagrams.” It had probably been fortunate that she hadn’t been able to talk over a whisper as if she had retained all powers of speech she would have been shouting by then.

 

“Keep your wig on,” He had said, shoving freezing cold feet under the covers. “This hasn’t exactly been set by any teachers.” He had then produced a thin paperback book and handed it to her.

 

Curiosity piqued she had opened the tattered covers. Even through the feathers this had looked at least mildly interesting. And a couple of minutes leafing through the pages had proved her notion right.

 

“This has got to be your most insane idea yet,” She had whispered.

 

“Insane, yes, but brilliant too.” He had answered eyes shining in the moonlight streaming through the windows, “Just think what we could do with this.”

 

“We could get ourselves killed is what,” She had said, but already the idea had started to grow on her, “It’s incredibly dangerous.”

 

“Hypocrite, since when have you not been a fan of danger.”

 

“Since there was a possibility of…” She had flicked back through the book, “urgh, my eye balls becoming attached to the back of my head, my brain dripping out of my ears, something I don’t even want to describe happening to my feet, the list goes on and that’s only what can happen if you twirl the damned incense the wrong way.”

 

“We won’t twirl the damned incense the wrong way,” He had said mockingly, “Come on think of the excitement, the adventure…”

 

“The many new and interesting ways we can die…”

 

“Stop being such a scardy cat.”

 

“Stop being so reckless.”

 

“You’re just as reckless and you know it.”

 

“Well…”

 

“Remember in second year, who was it that suggested sending that Howler to Filch?”

 

“He hung you from the ceiling by your ankles for ages, we had to do something! It was necessary.”

 

“Well this is necessary too.” His expression had become abruptly serious, “I’ve got to do something otherwise I swear I’m going to leave.”

 

She had gaped, startled by the abrupt change in tone.

 

“I mean it. I can’t stand to be in my common room for more than two minutes, the entire house hates me and the rest of the school isn’t much better, classes… well you know I could do most of them standing on my head but…”

 

“You shouldn’t let them ruin your life,” She had sighed, it was an old argument, “you shouldn’t not try just to make them angry, in three years you can leave them behind and never look back, but your OWLs and NEWTs will be with you for the rest of your life. Not doing any work when you enjoy doing it is just cutting of your own nose to spite your face.”

 

“I know, but I can’t stop now can I, they’ll think that I’ve given in,” She could still remember the strange desperateness that had shone in his eyes at that moment, “I can’t lose to them, I can’t, you know I can’t.”

 

“I know, I still think that for all your natural talent you’re a complete dunce, but yes I do sort of understand. You’ve got to much pride, that’s your trouble.” She had waved the distasteful subject away, “But I still don’t see how doing this is going to help, how is it going to stop you…running away.”

 

“I’m not running away!” He almost shouted, then abruptly lowered his voice with a apprehensive glance at the door to the nurses office, “I’m not. I won’t any way, not if we do this. Don’t you see, there’s nothing here for me, I’m either sulking around the castle trying to keep away from every one or deliberately picking a fight to lose points, it’s no way to live! But if I was working for something, something as amazing as this then I think I could keep going. Please, say you’ll help.”

 

It had been an easy decision. Despite the strangeness of their friendship, he was a friend, and she told herself to give some semblance of a logical choice to her resolution, if she didn’t help he would probably do it anyway and get himself killed. At least this way, well, at least this way she was involved if every thing went horribly wrong.

 

***

 

The attic was small, snug was the word her mother had used, and filled to the brim with carefully labelled cardboard boxes of every shape and size. She was in a peculiarly poetic mood so she thought of them as the residue of generations - instead of a huge chore that was going to take up most of her weekend. She had brought up a wet handkerchief to keep out the dust that inevitably built up in unused spaces, but it was unnecessary, the room was as clean and dust free as a new pin. Petunia had obviously been here before her.

 

Lily was slightly surprised that her sister hadn’t gone through the boxes herself, she had been ruthlessly sorting everything thing else in the house into very definite “Yours” and “Mine” piles. It seemed strange that Petunia hadn’t immediately pounced upon such a large source of potential conflict. She pondered upon the problem as she pulled down the first box.

 

Opening the cardboard flaps immediately provided an answer, instead of the old sheets or broken toys that she had been expecting she found – magic. She stared down into the depths like a travelling explorer finally gazing upon her El Dorado or a tramp finding gold in some dustbin. Elation mixed with surprise, a heady combination. She could already feel the wide grin spreading across her face. She reached in to the box and one by one drew out the jigsaw pieces of her charmed childhood.

 

A chipped tea cup with a rat’s tail. A bundle of grimy test tubes wrapped together with Spellotape. Two stuffed white mice. A twisted willow branch. Three sets of plain black and potion scarred work robes. A wooden badger with one foot missing. Sixteen different types of sweet wrapper. A clumsily mended photo frame. Bottles of all shapes and sizes. Notebooks bulging with messy notes, jagged cuttings, dried herbs… Photos, envelopes and letters bound up with string.

 

Fingers trembling she tugged at the knots. Swearing under her breath as they grew tighter. Exasperated, she let that bundle drop to her side and reached blindly in to the pile in beside her for a more easy going collection of memories. This one was bulkier and she recognised the handwriting. She paused. Then with care she slid the string around the stacks’ corners. Suddenly released the letters surged over her knees like the tide covering a beach. She removed one and triggered another avalanche of parchment.

 

For a moment she simply held the richly embossed scroll in her hands. Abruptly she was twelve again, feeling once again the thrill of anticipation and the biter tang of trepidation that had always preceded the breaking of the wax seal. Then she gently eased the scroll open.

 

The mother is once again confined to her bed; this comes as no surprise as she consumed the best part of a bottle of the 1565 elf made wine by herself last night. Brought on I feel, by yours-truly, it was actually quite amusing…