The Upside of Being Down

Chapter Five: I'd Go Out With Her in a Heartbeat

I didn't try particularly hard to be on time in getting to Hogsmeade, but I still found myself stepping into the Three Broomsticks ten minutes early.

I scanned the rather crowded bar-room for sign of my date but I either couldn't see him, or he'd not arrived yet, so I made my way through the hot, smoky, teeming throng of students and other tenants over to the bar and ordered a butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta.

She smiled toothily at me as she popped the cap off a frosty bottle (the lads preferred their butterbeer hot, but the thought of warm beer disgusted me so much I could barely stand to sit near them while they drank it) and handed it to me across the shiny wooden bar, her beaded earrings dangling nearly all the way to her shoulders and winking merrily in the dim tavern light.

"Got yourself a boy-toy, have you?" she remarked cheekily, leaning her elbows on the bar and grinning at me.

I blushed ridiculously and spluttered, "What? No, not--how did you know I was meeting someone?"

"You came alone," Madam Rosmerta replied, with a sly wink. "Which means you don't want your bloke friends hanging around--crowding you, shall we say?"

This was slightly absurd, but I just nodded with a murmured thanks and left to find a table.

I managed to snag an empty one with a pair of chairs near the rear of the tavern and I settled myself in one seat, setting down my butterbeer, then pulled off my cardigan and draped it over the back of the other.

Thus settled, I sipped at my drink and began people-watching as I waited for the arrival of my 'boy-toy' apparent. I'd never thought of Madam Rosmerta as old before that moment.

There were quite a few Hogwarts students present, drinking tankards of hot butterbeer (ugh) and more than a few public displays of affection (double ugh.) Exhibitions, if we're being truthful. Merlin, one would think we were in Madam Puddifoot's, the way the couples were carrying on in front of everybody.

Even if Andrew and I snogged a bit, I'd at least have the decency to go behind the tavern. Or--wait--that doesn't sound very decent at all. Perhaps I'd just have to keep it strictly G-rated, simply to avoid confusion.

If Sirius were my boy-toy, though, I might consider becoming an exhibitionist. We could join a travelling circus, maybe, and spend the rest of our married lives doing our spectacular snogging act onstage for the enjoyment of, er... tens.

Hang on. When had we gotten married?

This was precisely why not getting enough sleep was something I tried to avoid at all costs. Not that I was particularly "normal" at the best of times, but this exceeded even my limits of what I considered acceptable in the presence of other human beings. Because I most certainly was a human being.

Tia to brain: shut up, now.

I took a long, only slightly desperate pull on my butterbeer, wishing I'd ordered something a bit stronger. Bloody Sirius. What was he playing at, anyway? Sleep was far more important than him--clearly--and who was he to assume he could just keep me up all hours of the night talking about nonsense?

Rather lovely nonsense, though.

"Er, hello, Tia."

I jumped at the voice, despite the din in the rest of the tavern, and looked up to see Lily Evans standing by my table, looking a bit concerned and wary.

"Are you all right?" she asked, eyeing me critically. "You look a bit pale and... bunged up."

Bunged up. Wonderful. It seemed as though I'd not have to make any conscious effort to keep things okay for the kiddie-winkies, after all. Telling by everyone else's reactions to my appearance so far, Andrew wouldn't want to touch me with a ten-foot pole.

"I'm fine," I assured her, though I couldn't help noticing I sounded more like I was trying to convince myself. "Fine. Erm... I just got a bit of shampoo in my eyes this morning. In the shower, you know."

"Oh," Lily said, shifting on her feet. "I... I could probably fix it, if your eyes are hurting you."

They weren't, not anymore, but it was becoming glaringly obvious that others could see the result quite clearly.

"Oh," I said, too, in surprise. Not only was Lily Evans voluntarily coming up to me a rare occurrence (though, James wasn't with me for once, so I rationalized that probably had something to do with it), but the fact that she seemed to be a bit uncomfortable about it made the whole thing slightly weird. "Could you?"

She nodded, drawing out her wand, and murmured a quick spell, waving the wand slowly in front of my face. A cool, soothing sensation passed under my closed eyelids and I opened them, blinking blearily several times.

"There, that's better," Lily said, seeming pleased.

"It does feel better," I said, rubbing my eyes experimentally. "Thanks, Ev--er, Lily."

Her face fell slightly, a flash of annoyance in her eyes, but then it disappeared when she smiled faintly and said, "It's no problem. I've gotten quite good at that charm, with waking up so many mornings after a long night of cramming for a test."

I returned the smile. "Is that how you do it?" I joked. "And here I was thinking you were just naturally perfect."

Her look was a bit wry, something I'd not expected. I hadn't been aware Lily even possessed a sense of humour. "I'm afraid your idiot cousin's putting me on a pedestal has cast me in a rather misleading light."

I shrugged, sipping my drink. "You could do worse."

Her thin, deep-red brows snapped together and she opened her mouth to make some reply, when I felt an arm slip around my shoulders and teeth fasten lightly onto my left earlobe.

"Hullo, darling," a deep voice said in my ear, breath warm and damp on the sensitive skin of my neck.

I squirmed and actually giggled aloud as I turned to look up at Andrew McPherson, who was sporting a half-grin on his Quidditch tanned face.

"Hi," I returned. "You're late."

"Alas, forty-five seconds of precious time I could have spent with you that I'll never get back," he sighed, easing himself onto the high seat opposite me.

I grinned, then turned back to Lily to introduce her--but she'd already gone.

A little put-out, I swallowed more butterbeer, then decided that perhaps I wasn't so opposed to a bit of exhibitionist fun, after all. I had a lot of pent-up energy I needed to release, and lucky Andrew that he was the most convenient--and most talented--bloke at hand. Decision made, I shifted closer to him, rested a hand high on his thigh, and, when he choked on his butterbeer, asked curiously, "So. How was practice?"

***

Some time later, Andrew and I were roaming the shops that lined Hogsmeade's High Street, glancing idly in the shop windows and stopping for the occasional snog when the opportunity presented itself. He really was quite a skilled kisser.

Andrew was a Chaser for Ravenclaw's Quidditch team, and fit the part perfectly. Classic good looks with burnished blond hair, bright blue eyes and straight white teeth, he was the type who normally would have annoyed me, had his exceptional talent with a Quaffle on the pitch not redeemed his fault of physical perfection.

I could think of another bloke with physical perfection, though Sirius' just went beyond words. Nevertheless, 'perfect' seemed too generic a term to describe him. Because, technically, he wasn't. There was the scar above his right eyebrow from three summers ago, when he and James had gotten into a fistfight over some bint at a local swimming pool (back when James had yet to fully commit himself to his sole and lifelong pursuit of Lily Evans). There was the ever-so-slightly crooked eye-tooth whose tiny imperfection only added character to an already devastating smile.

And of course there were the other array of faint scars he sported all over his body in various places that I'd had glimpses of over the years. They were unexplained and not alarming, but I liked to think they told a story of his life so far and had played a part in making him the person he was today.

Oh damn. I was thinking in prose again.

I paused outside the window of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, a display of engraved objects catching my eye. There were name-plates, pens, signet rings, money clips. I suddenly had an idea.

"Let's go in a minute," I said to Andrew, tugging on his hand to get his attention.

He followed without protest and I went inside, going over to the display, in front of which was the actual selection available for purchase set out on a velvet-covered table. I scanned the selection and smiled when I spotted what I'd been looking for.

I picked up the silver lapel pin, shaped like a racing broom. I grinned with satisfaction, then took it over to the counter.

"Afternoon, miss," the shopkeeper boomed jovially. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to have this engraved," I replied, setting the pin onto the counter. I pulled towards me a slip of paper, uncapping a pen, and scribbled a message, which I handed to him. "With this."

A few minutes later, I walked out of the shop with Andrew, his newly-engraved pin proudly (if a bit puzzledly) displayed on his collar.

I knew when Gryffindor played Ravenclaw in a week, and Sirius saw the pin on Andrew's robes (I'd made him promise to wear it) with "Snogging Extraordinaire" engraved on it, he'd have rather a lot to say. But I decided it was worth it anyway.

***

It was some time around six o'clock that I got back from Hogsmeade. I'd gotten held up in the corridor by Neil Whittaker, who felt it crucial to apologize profusely for his sister's inability to ask someone out properly.

I was in a rush to get back to the common room, so I merely smiled graciously, patted him on the head, and said, "No, no, Neil, your sister was lovely. Hell, I'd go out with her in a heartbeat."

And then I was off, leaving him standing in the hallway with a look of bewilderment on his face as he processed what I'd just said.

I climbed through the portrait hole, somewhat breathless from my rush back to the school, and immediately went over to the fire, since the weather had gotten even cooler as what little sun there was wore away into twilight. My hands and the tip of my nose felt like ice.

The four lads were seated around the fire in various poses of relaxation, and I dropped onto the sofa in between Sirius and Peter, shoving aside the former in order to get a direct position in front of the heat.

"Hi, Tia," Peter said, absently, his eyes on Olga, who was currently flitting wildly about James' head while he scribbled industriously on a piece of parchment. I had no idea what he was writing about, but, knowing James, it either ran along the lines of a) a properly mushy love letter to Lily to convince her of her true feelings for him, b) the plans for his latest diabolical scheme, or, in a fit of originality, c) the plans for his latest diabolical scheme to convince Lily of her true feelings for him.

I shot Peter a grin over my shoulder, bending closer to the fire to warm my hands.

"How's Andrew?" Remus wanted to know, from where he stood behind James' chair, reading over his shoulder.

"Fine," I replied absently, untying my boots and dropping them onto the floor. I stretched out my legs to let my toes thaw out, settling back comfortably in my usual lounging position, and rolled my head to the side to look at Sirius, mouth open to ask him how is day had been.

I got a hot, very weird jolt in my gut to find him already staring at me.

My brows snapped together. "You're getting creepier and creepier these days, you know that?" I mumbled, petulantly. "I think you need to get out more."

He merely shrugged and grinned, that intense glint in his grey eyes softened somewhat by his amusement.

"Hey, Tee," James started, his voice in that dangerously cajoling tone.

"No," I said immediately.

"Oh, come on, you don't even--"

"No."

My cousin leapt out of his chair, setting aside his parchment, and Olga managed to get out of the way just in the knick of time to avoid getting a... er... ball full of James' forehead. He dropped to his knees in front of me, hands clasped together.

"Please, my dearest, darling cousin whom I love unconditionally and with all the infinitesimal pieces of my heart? Your decoy services are desperately needed and you won't be disappointed with the results this time around," he wheedled, that usual charming grin of his in place.

"Absolutely not," I repeated, crossing my arms resolutely, giving him my best 'look'.

Instead of pouting, James merely smiled knowingly. It was clear I needed a new death glare--this one was losing its potency.

***