The Upside of Being Down

Chapter Four: The Noble (mmphmhahaha!)and Most Ancient House of Black

Come Friday night, I was more than a little annoyed with Sirius.

He could act as cool as a cucumber, completely unaffected by what had happened the other night, and I was one step away from picking up my fingernail chewing habit again.

And it was his fault entirely.

I lay in bed that night, staring up at the bed-canopy I couldn't see, struggling to work out the answers I couldn't understand.

Where did he get off ruffling me like this? I happened to have a life (no, really), one that he was doing a pretty fair job of turning on its ear. My sleep was suffering, my grades were dropping (which, to be honest, isn't saying much) and it seemed like the only thing I ever thought about was him. Even someone as interesting as Sirius can get a little annoying if they refuse to bloody get out of your head!

Well, there was only one thing for it. If I was going to go mad, I sure as hell wasn't doing it alone.

I flipped back my covers, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and leapt up. I silently pulled a jumper over my pyjamas, and a thick pair of socks, then crept out of the room, careful not to wake my dorm-mates, as I didn't fancy getting caught out of bed past curfew.

I'll say this--living with the Head Girl herself had its downside. But then, having the Head Boy as your cousin was pretty damn convenient.

The common room was dark and empty, the fire in the grate reduced to carefully banked embers, and I hurried across it and up the pitch-black stone stairwell leading up to the boys' dormitories.

I knew the exact lay out of the seventh-year dorm by heart, having spent so much time up there with the lads, and so when I quietly opened the door, just as quietly shutting it behind me, I knew exactly where to go.

I also knew teenage boys, and so stepped very carefully in order to avoid tripping over the scattered mess of clothes, shoes, school bags, those slippy magazines that, when mistakenly trod on, will give you a strained groin muscle for the next month-and-a-half due to your performance of some amazing and completely unintentional acrobatics, and various other treacherous objects that were invariably strewn all over the bloody place.

I'd just raised a hand to part Sirius' bed curtains, having safely reached his bed, when a thought suddenly occurred to me.

What if he wasn't in his bed?

It wasn't necessarily unlikely that he was off somewhere with some girl. He often spent the night in a bed that wasn't his own. Well, that's not entirely true.

He was rarely there for a whole night.

Worse, what if he was in his bed, but he wasn't alone?

I shook my head quickly, disposing of the notion. As far as I knew (and I liked to think I was privy to rather a lot; concerning his sex life at least--not like he wasn't all too happy to share), he'd never brought a girl back to his bed. I didn't know exactly why this was, but there were rather a lot of things I didn't know about him.

Git.

With determination, I parted the bed curtains, climbed onto the edge of the mattress, then cast a quick Silencing Charm, taking a page out of Sirius' book. I did it twice, just in case I'd bungled it the first time.

I could hear him breathing. Deep and slow, like that of a person in deep slumber. I could smell him. He'd had a shower before bed, I guessed--he smelled freshly of soap, of warmth--of the faintly electric smell that was Sirius.

Tucking my wand in my pyjama pants pocket, I crawled toward the top of the bed, careful not to tread on him.

He murmured in his sleep, then made a soft, snuffling sound. "Tia?" he said, his voice muffled by the pillow, though he was clearly still sound asleep.

I paused, wondering at how he could know it was me even in slumber, then reached out to grab his shoulder--or what I hoped was his shoulder--and shook him lightly.

He came awake abruptly, half-rising, and exclaiming, "Wh--what? Whassgoinon?"

"Shh!" I hissed, unsure of how well my Silencing Charm had worked. Charms was one of my better classes, but definitely not my best. "It's me."

"Spencer?" He rolled over, sighing sleepily. "Okay, then. Come to bed, love."

A long arm snaked out, wrapping around my shoulders, and I suddenly found myself all but cuddled up against him. He slept without a shirt, I discovered.

This is just like when we take a nap, I told myself sternly, firmly shutting out all thoughts of just what his sleep-thickened statement had implied.

"Soft," he mumbled. "Warm." He rolled again, gathering me against his front, his arm draped heavily over my waist.

I sighed, in spite of myself. This was really quite nice. And warm, too; he had that right.

His breath was light on the back of my neck, causing goose bumps to rise on my skin.

"Did you want something, before I pass out again?" he asked, his voice a sleepy mumble.

I couldn't think of a thing, at present.

"Just... to chat, I suppose," I said at last, feeling a bit foolish.

I felt his breath expel down the back of my collar as he chuckled. I shivered.

"Do I have five minutes again?" He sounded like his eyes had dropped closed, like he was already falling back asleep.

"Erm... well, I can't really kick you out of your own bed, now can I?" I closed my own eyes, settling against him more comfortably.

"You may have to, if you rub your arse any closer."

He suddenly sounded much more awake.

I squeaked in horror, jerking said arse a few inches forward, my face burning. I was just glad it was dark and he couldn't see my embarrassment.

After a few moments of agonizingly loud silence, Sirius took a deep breath and said, "Tia, I hope you know I'd never do anything to you if I knew you didn't want me to."

Oh, if only he knew what I wanted him to do.

"Well... thank you," I said, warily.

"I just... want you to know I don't think of you that way."

I stiffened, in spite of myself. "Oh?"

"I mean--" He seemed to have realized he'd offended me somehow. "Not that way, because I do think of you that way--I mean, who can blame me? But I don't--what I mean to say is that you... well, Christ, Tia, you mean more to me than a quick shag. And that's saying a hell of a lot, as we're not even shagging at all."

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing.

"I didn't think it was as funny as all that," he said, petulantly, his tone sulky.

I shook with silent laughter, rolling over and wrapping my arms around him in a hug. I finally managed to speak, though my voice still trembled with mirth. "And here I was, thinking there was something wrong with me. Are you telling me you never tried to do the dirty deed with me because you respect me too much?"

"Well... yeah. Shouldn't I respect you?"

Coming from Sirius, this was just too funny. I rested my forehead against his collarbone and kept on laughing.

Well, this was an interesting new revelation. He was attracted to me. And he was too noble to do anything about it.

Sirius. Noble.

Fancy that.

I started off on a fresh peal of laughter, and I felt him pinch my side lightly.

"What do you find so bloody amusing about what I just said?" he demanded.

I'd been stressing out over this for a week, and all for nothing. This was lovely. I could sing.

I didn't, though, and thank Merlin for small miracles.

That was when it hit me. I'd been stressing out over this for a week, because of him. And now he would pay.

"So..." I smiled up at him under my lashes, even though I knew very well he couldn't see me. "You think about me 'that way', do you?"

I pressed deliberately closer.

I thought I heard his throat working, but his voice was perfectly smooth when he replied, "It's not like I'm the only one. Like I said, who can blame me?"

"Who, indeed?" I was thoroughly intrigued at this point. I allowed my hand to trail down his back a bit and I felt the fingers resting lightly against mine tighten briefly.

"Don't tease me, Tia," he warned, gruffly.

"Who's teasing?" I dropped my hand purposefully to his arse, and squeezed.

He jerked in surprise, his breath hissing between his teeth, then cursed when I burst out laughing again.

I rolled away from him, still giggling, and pulled the covers up to burrow under them. I settled on my back, with a few inches of space between us, and lay grinning up at the dark canopy.

"You are really evil, you know that?" Sirius grumbled, rolling onto his back also.

I grinned, the covers nestled cosily under my chin. "I couldn't resist. Now, we may as well chat, since I'm here. Any chatting topic tickle your fancy?" I mimicked, earning me a nudge in the thigh with his knee.

"Nothing in particular."

"Hm. Let me think a minute, then."

I knew what I wanted to talk about. I still wanted--needed--to know about his family. But I decided against that subject and instead inquired, "Full moon is when--two weeks away? Are you lot going out again?"

I felt rather than saw him nod, before sighing gustily.

"That's the plan, anyway."

"I wish I could go with you," I grumbled, dredging up the usual argument when it got to be this time of the month (not that time, but the time for Remus' transformation). "James still won't let me anywhere near the four of you on full moon."

"I happen to agree with him," Sirius said, dredging up his usual response. "You'll get no sympathy from me, love."

I gave him a look through the dark, imagining that I could still shoot daggers at him despite his not being able to see it.

We lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until he spoke again.

"Can I keep coming to see you, Tia? I mean, in your room? I meant what I said the other night, about not being able to talk to you during the day, because we're both so busy."

I thought a moment, then decided, "Okay. But on one condition."

"I already told you I wouldn't try anything."

"Not that. The condition is that every night you come to see me, you have to tell me one thing about yourself. Not silly stuff I already know, but... something that matters to you. You matter to me too, you know."

He didn't say anything for a moment. Then, "Fair enough. It's a date. Now, I've thought of a chatting topic."

"Let's hear it, then," I said, pleased, and snuggled deeper under the covers.

"Josie Abbott's very exceptional rack--a masterpiece of Nature or wizard?"

***

Saturday morning I woke bright and early--well...before noon, anyway--and stumbled groggily out of bed and into the shower. Sirius had stayed well into the wee hours of the morning the night before (we'd spent one-hundred-and-twenty-seven minutes arguing about the general importance of pie--I thought nay, he thought abso-bloody-lutely--and yes, I'd counted. Again.)

Let's just say I wasn't feeling particularly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed because of it.

I couldn't stay curled under my cozy cocoon of blankets all day, however, no matter how appealing the idea was. I had plans with Andrew McPherson, my not-quite-boyfriend, to meet in Hogsmeade for a butterbeer; and so I resisted the temptation of warm blankets and fluffy pillows and instead indulged in a very hot shower.

It took me a while to wake up, even standing under the near-scalding spray, but the shampoo suds dripping into my eyes took care of that.

They were probably bloodshot and slightly puffy now, but at least I'd be totally alert for my date.

Stepping out of the shower stall, rather annoyed with soap in general at the moment, I towelled off, then stood in front of the mirror to begin the tiresome grooming process.

Quick hair-drying spell here, somewhat more complicated glamour charm there, and I had the hair-and-makeup bit out of the way. My mincers didn't look quite so wino-esque anymore, at least, which was always a plus.

I lingered in front of the mirror a bit longer than I was prone to, eyeing my reflection critically. I definitely looked a bit more tired than usual, but that was entirely Sirius' fault and nothing to be done about it.

I had a nice face, I decided. Nothing special, though Mum said I was so much prettier when I smiled. My eyes were hazel and thick-lashed, the same I shared with James, Mum, and Aunt Meg, though myself and the last two had been spared the necessity of glasses--James got that from Uncle Robbie.

My nose was too long, I thought; my mouth too wide. James used to tease me that I'd be able to catch flies with it, though he'd stopped by now. Either because he'd gotten more mature, or I'd grown into my features.

I thought the latter was more likely.

My hair was my father's; the colour of caramel, poker-straight, and dead boring. I tried to liven it up (or rather, Mum had insisted I liven it up) by getting it cut into a sort of choppy, jaw-length style. It suited me, too, even though Uncle Robbie said it made me look like an imp (although I think--I think--he meant it as a compliment.)

I pushed said hair off my forehead, wrinkling my nose at my reflection, and pulled a face.

"It'll stick like that if you're not careful," the mirror informed me matter-of-factly.

I stuck my tongue out at it, then walked back into the dorm where I dressed quickly (can't go wrong with jeans, right?). I seemed to have run entirely out of clean socks, however.

Given that the road to Hogsmeade had been reduced to slimy mud and treacherous puddles, sandals were not quite appropriate footwear, under the circumstances. And since wearing shoes/boots barefoot happened to be one of my pet peeves, I found myself in rather a pickle.

The dorm was empty aside from myself, so I couldn't borrow a pair off one of the girls, and I wasn't about to take them without asking. Leaving only one solution.

I went downstairs in my bare feet, pulling on a bulky black cardigan (it was drizzling today and also a bit chilly), my boots in hand.

Upon entering the common room, I saw that a smattering of Gryffindor students were scattered about, lounging in the squashy arm-chairs and seated around the various tables situated about the room. Among them, in our usual spot near the fire, were Remus and James. The former had his nose in a book--one of Muggle poetry, I saw; his usual "light" weekend reading--while the latter was toying with what I referred to as his pet Snitch. I'd named it Olga.

It appeared that Sirius and Peter were still sleeping, which was just as well, as they would both more than likely want to know where I was going, and a lot of awkward questions would ensue. Neither of them liked Andrew very much, though I couldn't imagine why.

I made my way over to my cousin and Remus, plopping down on the couch between them when I reached them.

Olga immediately began vibrating madly as soon as I sat down and I snatched her out of the air to croon baby-talk to her for a moment.

James stared at me with raised eyebrows, before snatching her back and stowing her safely away in his pocket.

"Why are your eyes all red and squinty?" he asked, without preamble.

I glared at him. "Whatever are you talking about?" I said, slowly and menacingly.

His eyes widened a bit and he went on hastily, "But, you know, now that I look closely, I don't see anything wrong with them." He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "Nope."

I turned away from him after a moment and announced, "I need socks."

Remus lowered his book an inch or two at these words, staring at me over the top of the pages.

"You need what?"

"Socks. I've run out."

Remus and James both peered down to look at my feet and I curled in my bare toes self-consciously, saying, "Anyway, I know you've got some, and I need to meet Andrew in a half hour, so hand them over."

James bent obligingly, starting to remove his own socks.

"What are you doing?" I exclaimed.

He glanced at me over the bent curve of his shoulder. "Giving you my socks," he said, as if it was obvious.

"I can't wear those!"

"And why not?"

"They're dirty."

"I've only had them on an hour!" he said, clearly offended.

"Yes, but they've touched your feet. And are probably all stretched out, too, come to think of it. They'd never fit like that."

He narrowed an eye at me, but pulled his sock back on and rose, mumbling, "What is it with you and feet?"

"I don't like them and they don't like me. Rather a simple concept to grasp, I think."

Remus snorted behind his book and James rolled his eyes, but the latter bounded up the stairs to the boys' dorm with minimal verbal protest.

He returned a minute later and tossed a clean pair of plain white socks in my lap.

"There you go. Don't say I never do anything for you," he told me, dropping back down onto the couch as I began to unfold the socks.

I cast him a sidelong look as I pulled them on, but said only, "Thanks, James."

"Yeah. Oh, and Pads woke up while I was getting them and I told him where you were off to," James said, casually.

My eyes widened in alarm but he seemed not to notice and went on, rubbing a hand over his mouth in apparent bemusement.

"He asked me to pass on a message, though he was half-asleep at the time, so maybe you shouldn't pay it any mind."

"What is it?" I inquired warily.

"He said, 'Enjoy your date with the snogging-extraordinaire. Love, Footstool.'"

I snorted, both in relief and genuine amusement, causing James' confusion to increase and Remus to peek again out from behind his book.

"That makes sense to you?" Remus asked in amazement.

"God, no," I laughed. "But I understand it." I stood, having laced on my boots as well, and said, "I'll see you lot later."

They murmured twin farewells, puzzlement still evident, and as I stepped through the portrait hole, I realized that what I had said was more appropriate than I'd first thought. Sirius and whatever was between us made no sense to me, though I thought that maybe--maybe--I was beginning to understand him a little bit.

***