The Upside of Being Down

Chapter Seven: A Pile of Outraged Marauders

Next day during break, I stood with Remus shivering under one of the stone archways off the school courtyard. James was doing something Quidditch-related with one of his Quidditch mates, and Peter had gone with him. I didn't know where Sirius was (though I didn't much care, as I was fairly certain it was he I'd spotted going off to the greenhouses with Emily Brown. I hoped they got caught.)

I scowled irritably as I glanced down at my watch--wasn't break over yet?--then went back to hugging my elbows against the bitter wind that howled through the stone passageways of Hogwarts' main courtyard, hopping from foot to foot to prevent the chill from freezing the blood in my veins altogether. My nose was so cold it felt like it might fall off.

And if it did, then I'd really be upset.

Remus leaned against the wall, reading again, perfectly impervious to the cold. I thought it might have something to do with werewolf metabolism--just like it was extremely difficult for him to get properly smashed or... well... die. He wasn't particularly furry in his human form, but I supposed it had a lot to do with hot-bloodedness. I should know--I'd snuggled up to him in the common room on many a winter's night, and the boy was a bloody furnace. Smelled rather nice, too.

I stepped stealthily closer to Remus, teeth chattering, and wrapped my cloak tighter around myself. I couldn't quite feel his heat, but he did a decent job of blocking out some of the wind.

He calmly turned a page in his book, a look of interested thoughtfulness on his face, and went on reading.

I slipped nearer still, bending under the guise of checking the laces on my boots, thus bringing me in even closer proximity with him when I straightened up.

I coughed.

"Tia?"

"Yeah?"

"Cold, much?"

I looked up at him, open-mouthed, but then he held open the folds of his cloak with his free hand, raising a brow, and I grinned gratefully, stepping into his extended arm. He wrapped this, along with his cloak, around my back and I settled comfortably against him.

Ah, lovely. Still a nice-smelling furnace. At least some things never changed.

"It's sadistic how they make us stand out here for thirty pointless minutes every day," I said, burying my frozen nose in his shoulder.

I felt him chuckle. "You don't seem to mind so much in the springtime."

"That's because it's possible to actually do something then, without risk of frostbite of the arse region," I grumbled, tucking my frozen fingers under my arms, turning slightly beneath his cloak so I could look up at him.

He wasn't looking at me, though--his gaze was fixed on something behind me, and he appeared vaguely worried.

Curious, I turned.

Andrew McPherson was standing there, a horrible, dark look of fury contorting his handsome features, his fists clenched. He was glaring at Remus rather hatefully.

"Andrew," I said in surprise. "What the hell is wrong?"

He turned his glare on me. "Wrong? My girlfriend is getting nice and cosy with another bloke, and you ask me what's wrong?"

"This?" I said with a snort, gesturing to Remus and I huddled together. "Please, Andrew, this doesn't go beyond a mutual desire for survival in subzero temperatures. And anyway, Remus is my mate--you know that."

"I know that you hang around with too many blokes for my liking," he said, eyes narrowing unattractively.

"Well that's news to me," I said, stepping away from Remus to face Andrew properly. I put my hands on my hips, brows shooting up. "You never had a problem with my friends before. "

"It's what you're doing with them that I have a problem with," he told me, grabbing my wrist. "Let's go somewhere private, shall we?"

I jerked my arm away. "No, I don't think so. Since when do you have the right to dictate who I hang around with, much less what I do with them?"

He went quite red in the face. "Since I became your boyfriend!"

"I don't recall ever agreeing to that, McPherson," I snapped coldly, my abrupt switch to surnames causing him to look stunned. "The way I remember it, you snogged me after the last Quidditch match and just assumed you could keep doing it."

"This is the first time you've complained about it," he snarled nastily.

"Because this is the first time you've acted like a complete arsehole!"

People were starting to stop and stare at us, crowding around us in anticipation of a good public row. I was all too ready to oblige them, but it seemed Andrew had other ideas.

"Fine!" he shouted--rather childishly, I thought. "If I'd known you were only with me because you're easy, I'd never have bothered. Go whore yourself to your supposed mates for all I care!"

My mouth dropped open--this was the second time in two days I'd been insulted like this, and I didn't like it very much at all. But before I could get my wand out to hex him like he deserved, he swung round to storm off--only to have his nose connect with Remus' fist.

"Bloody f--"

Both of them went tumbling to the ground, fists flying, and I'd not yet recovered from the shock of seeing Remus Lupin hit someone, before the crowd was forcibly parted and James and Sirius swooped down on the brawling pair, pulling them both apart.

A moment later, the four boys stood in either half of the lop-sided circle formed by the crowd, with me on the sidelines. Remus was being helped to his feet by James, while Sirius was just trying to keep Andrew from killing him--not that Remus hadn't done quite a bit of his own damage to Andrew's formerly pretty face. Peter, appearing out of nowhere, put a hand on my arm and asked if I was all right. Nodding shakily, I continued to stare at the scene before me.

"Right, then," Sirius said, a tad breathlessly, flicking his mop of black hair out of his eyes as he struggled to keep hold of a clearly furious and nicely bloodied Andrew. "What fresh hell is going on?"

I was wondering quite the same thing, but suddenly conscious of just how many other students were avidly watching the proceedings, I said, "Nothing, just let him go, and let's get out of here. Come on, Pete--" I tugged on Peter's arm, but he didn't budge, his own attention focused on Andrew himself.

Sirius did let him go, as Andrew had calmed down a bit, but the former fixed me with a quizzical look, right before Remus, touching the tip of his tongue gingerly to his split lip, said, "He called Tia a whore. What was I supposed to do?"

At this, both James and Sirius whirled on Andrew and shouted simultaneously (and respectively), "You called my cousin a what?" and "Oi, I'm the only one who can call Spencer names!"

Andrew promptly disappeared under a pile of outraged Marauders.

***

It was a sweet gesture, of course--I won't deny that, even though I didn't openly believe in that whole chivalry-isn't-dead, knight-in-shining-armour rot--but I was very much a girl, and who didn't like to feel special every now and then?

The lads all thought that Andrew was what had been bothering me the past couple of days and they were all swaggering about, quite proud of themselves--except for Remus, of course, who was horrified by the detention that brawling with another student had earned them all.

But I thought he was secretly gloating about the black-eye Andrew now sported.

Truthfully, though, Andrew breaking things off with me just capped everything else that had happened that week, despite how little I really cared for him (he sent me back his "Snogging Extraordinaire" pin, with a note that said--quite unnecessarily, I might add--"Do you have these made by the pound?").

Lily did nothing but throw me nasty looks every time we saw each other (not to say I wasn't throwing them right back--and of course, mine were much nastier, as I'd had so much more practice) and any time I spotted Dumbledore, I got this sick, uneasy, completely furious feeling in my stomach. Aubrey smiled at me once, a bit shakily, but it was right after I'd gotten that note from Andrew (a.k.a. The Slimy Git Who Thinks He's Clever But Isn't) and I couldn't work up much more than a sullen "All right?"

I bet she thought I really was a rude, stuck-up cow.

Not that I could blame her.

By the time Wednesday afternoon rolled around, I was quite fed up with people as a collective whole. In my esteemed opinion, people could sod off, and like it.

I was sitting at the Gryffindor table, trying to find the motivation to eat my steak-and-kidney pie. Andrew had just walked past with his Quidditch mates and all of them looked at me like I was this disgusting slimy thing, unfit to smear the bottoms of their shoes--though they moved on rather quickly after Sirius pulled out his wand and casually began polishing it.

"Poncey gits," James grumbled, "I can't bloody wait until Saturday--then we can clobber him properly, and add salt to Ravenclaw's wounds by kicking their scrawny arses in the match." He said all this with that restless, sort of shifty expression he got when a Quidditch game loomed near.

Sirius, who played as one of the Beaters for Gryffindor, grinned maliciously and said, "They can't stop me sending a Bludger at the wanker's pretty blond head. It's his own fault if he doesn't duck in time."

Even Peter, who wasn't normally an openly fierce sort of person, seemed thoroughly ticked about the whole mess.

"I hope you do get some good shots in, Pads, after what he said," Peter proclaimed, almost viciously.

Remus seemed a bit uncomfortable about it all, in retrospect, but nodded his agreement.

"'Course, Moony here can always be lying in wait for the rat-bastard if we don't manage it ourselves," Sirius said proudly, slapping Remus--who at least had the decency to look mildly embarrassed--on the back, in congratulations for his performance at yesterday's events.

I ignored them, pushing my food--which was now nothing more than an indistinguishable pasty mush--around my plate with my fork.

Tonight was my first "session" with Lily and Aubrey and I was not looking forward to it. In fact, if I thought about it for too long, I got quite irritated and twitchy.

Twitchy was not a good sign.

Maybe if I simply refused point-blank to attend the tutoring sessions and instead got one of the lads to help me?

No, wait--I'd already tried that. Dumbledore had shot that one down before it was even fully out of my mouth. Said they "lacked responsibility," which was kind of true, but still--there wasn't any need to bring their shortcomings into it, too. Bit rude, actually.

What about if I pretended to have an accident and then I could use that extra time bought by a stay in the hospital wing to think up a better plan?

Sadly, pretending things wasn't very mature, and I was nothing if not silly. I mean anything but not silly.

Er...

"You all right? You look in a bit of pain," Sirius observed.

I scowled. "Shut up. For your information, I am trying to think up a solution to a terrible dilemma in which I am currently stuck, something you wouldn't understand even if you stopped with your stupid ideas to jump Andrew from behind long enough to listen. Beating the crap out of my ex-bloke just so you can stroke your own delicate egos is hardly appreciated. In fact, if you'd take your heads out of your arses and think about something other than Quidditch, pranks, and shagging for two seconds put together, that'd be really lovely, thanks very much!"

I'd yet to forgive him for going off with that Emily slag yesterday at break.

All four of them stared at me--James with a forkful of potatoes halfway to his mouth, which hung open rather thickly.

Sirius blinked. "You're welcome?"

"Oooh, you fucking prig!" I stood up to glare furiously down at him, still huffing breathlessly from my earlier diatribe, then slung my book-bag over my shoulder, and stalked off.

***

Dumbledore would pay. I would never rest until I'd learned James' Curse of the Backdoor Trots and used it on him (Dumbledore, obviously, not James.)

Repeatedly.

I stood outside the library that evening at seven o'clock, fuming and pacing and all that wonderful stuff you do when you're seriously annoyed.

I'd talked to the man about 'Bambi', for chrissake. And he'd let me. He'd let me go on and on about the sodding movie, and now I was being forced to spend two hours, three nights a week with Lily "You Cow" Evans.

Perhaps it wasn't too late to take myself up on that accidental accident idea. Or perhaps I'd just do the thing properly and have a real accident.

How difficult could it be? Bit painful, maybe, but really, what were a couple bumps and scrapes in exchange for sweet, sweet freedom?

I covertly eyed the suit of polished armour standing a few metres away near the top of the hall, which gripped a gruesome-looking axe in its fisted gauntlet. A little trip--possible loss of limb--and voilà, instant justification for skipping the tutoring session. Madam Pomfrey would be able to sew whatever it was back on, wouldn't she?

I didn't get the chance to find out.

"Fancy meeting you here, Spencer. I wasn't aware your lot could read."

I turned round at the soft, sleek voice, and glared up at the scowling, hook-nosed, greasy face of Severus Snape.

"Only books with lots of pictures and really small words," I retorted, matching his look. "What about you? I wasn't aware your lot ventured out of the dungeons." I smiled with deceptive sweetness. "That whole issue with sunlight and human companionship, you know."

He glowered. "Very amusing, I'm sure. At least some of us make the effort to study and get halfway decent marks, as opposed to... others."

That hit just this side of too close to home and I shoved past him with a petulant look, marching into the library.

This had a certain disadvantage, however, as now I was actually in the library.

Bugger.

Rather than stay here and exchange pleasantries with Snape, I started towards the back of the library, where tables were set up for the students' use.

I couldn't see either the red-head bint or Aubrey, so I sat at an empty table across from some Hufflepuff fourth years and began removing my Arithmancy and Charms material from my bag. Loudly.

A pair of Ravenclaws shot me twin looks of disapproval, but I merely slammed down my Arithmancy textbook and flipped them off.

At that moment, Lily Evans plunked down into the chair across from me, narrowed her eyes at me and snapped, "Look, I'll not fail my Arithmancy course just because we can't stand each other, so if you're willing to put aside our differences three nights a week, then I am too."

I said nothing for a long moment. What I was really willing to do was claw her stupid green eyes out, but I held myself in, and said through gritted teeth, "Fine."

"All right." She nodded once, shortly, in a very annoying way, and set down her own books. "Have you seen Aubrey van Houlton anywhere?"

"I don't keep a leash on the girl," I replied tetchily, but then remembered our supposed truce and grudgingly amended, "No, I haven't."

She eyed me a moment, but said only, "We'll just wait 'til she gets here, then."

"Yes, we will."

"All right, then."

"All right."

"Okay."

"Indeed."

We stared narrowly at each other, then turned away simultaneously and didn't speak or acknowledge the other's existence until Aubrey arrived five minutes later.

***

I entered my room later that night, in both a confused and not altogether accomplished mood.

The session had been... weird. Very weird. Awkward, most definitely, and we managed to get very little work done in between silent bickering and our own refusal to listen to anything the other had to say. Only Aubrey left the library with a smile of understanding on her face--having been perfectly willing to listen to my explanation of quadratic spells, and Lily's view on the advantages of hellebore (she was helping Aubrey with her Potions class, though I didn't think she expressed herself very well at all.)

Anyway, the short and short of it was that I still disliked Lily Evans intensely, my grasp on Charms was still not nearly as thorough as I'd have liked it to be, and she got really hacked off at me when she thought I wasn't explaining chapter two in our Arithmancy textbook clearly enough.

Obviously, this had been a dreadful idea and going to be absolutely no help whatsoever to any of the parties involved; namely me.

Half of my dorm-mates were already in bed (excluding Lily, of course--she'd not slept in our dorm since The Incident outside Dumbledore's office and I was quite enjoying the newly red-head-free zone) and so I took care to be quiet as I undressed and got into my pyjamas, then brushed my hair quickly before climbing into bed.

Except there was someone already in it.

"The hell--!"

"Just shut up and get in!" Sirius' voice hissed.

I seriously considered making a big fuss about it and getting him into loads of trouble (I was just in one of those moods, the kind where you want everybody else to suffer just because you are), but in the end I did as he said and silently climbed into bed beside him, letting the curtain fall into place.

"Did you do a Silencing Ch--oohmphm!"

He was kissing me! Just like that! What if I'd been sucking on a sweet? I could have choked to death. I practically was, with the sudden jolt of both shock and delicious heat that speared through me, causing me to forget momentarily to breathe.

But then suddenly, with everything that had been going on these past couple of days, all the stress and the arguing and the ill feelings, him kissing me just felt... really bloody amazing.

So I did what any sane, red-blooded girl would have done. I locked my arms around him, and gave it back as good as I got.

He pulled away some minutes later, his breath coming a bit short, and nipped my lower lip.

"Hi," he said, quietly, and I could hear the smug smile in his voice.

For some completely insane reason, I suddenly found myself on the verge of tears. This was becoming ridiculous. I wasn't used to this much emotion and was feeling quite ready to just break down altogether.

I couldn't quite choke back a sob, though I tried.

"Well, hell, Spencer, you aren't supposed to cry! Do you always turn on the waterworks when someone snogs you?" Sirius demanded, sounding a bit panicked, touching my face and my hair as if to see whether he'd somehow hurt me.

I just sobbed again and turned my face into his chest--which was bare, I found--and hooked my leg with his in order to shift myself closer to him, needing the comfort.

He cursed softly, then rolled over onto his back, taking me with him, so that I was sprawled over his chest. He draped an arm over the small of my back and stroked my hair gently, murmuring nonsense under his breath until I'd calmed down enough to speak.

Then I told him. Everything; from Dumbledore making me get a tutor, and how inferior I felt all of the sudden; to Lily's and my rowing; and then Andrew's dumping me. Sirius was silent all throughout, save for the occasional murmur to show that he was listening.

When I'd at last finished and was sniffling quietly, my lightly pounding head resting on his chest, my stinging eyes shut from the exhaustion of weeping, he didn't say anything for a moment, merely sifted his fingers through my hair, gently tracing the curve of my skull and neck and jaw with his fingertips.

I shivered.

Then he said, "I'm really crap at this whole comforting thing..."

I had to laugh. "Right," I said, sniffling again and smiling as I raised my head to look down at him, in spite of the solid darkness. "Complete crap. You've just made it worse, in fact."

He pulled my head down to snog me again, and I felt him grinning against my lips. Then he made a noise deep in his throat, and the kiss changed, both the angle and the taste; and a slow, seeping heat started working its way up from somewhere in my middle.

A split second later, I found myself on my back again; a wand was lit a foot away from my head, and Sirius was studying me from above, a grave expression on his face.

I opened my mouth to say something--though I hadn't a single lucid thought in my head at the moment--but he tapped me lightly on the nose, and shook his head, as if to get across just how important his next words were going to be.

"I've only seen you cry twice my whole life," he began, his tone matching his expression. "Once when you were twelve and your cat died. You bawled for a week, it was sickening. And then again, when Moony got away from Madam Pomfrey one full moon, before she could get him to the Whomping Willow, and you were positive he was going to get himself killed when he ran off into the Forbidden Forest. Both times it ripped me up inside, Tia, and now is no exception--mostly because you always look like hell after you cry.

"But I want you to know that I think you're one of the cleverest witches I know, regardless of the complete lack of effort you put into your schoolwork, and Emily Brown was only trying to set me up with her sister, who, incidentally, is a hag."

I blinked, slightly overwhelmed by this little speech.

"Erm..." I cleared my throat, as my voice was still a bit thick from tears. "Okay."

Somehow--Merlin, I had to stop spending so much time with these people!--what he'd said comforted me a great deal more than a hundred, "Don't worry about its" or "It'll be all rights" would have done.

He kissed me a third time, gently and stirringly, and I gasped into his mouth as his hand trailed up the underside of my bare thigh (I wore old sweat-pant cut-offs--not very sexy, but I hadn't been expecting him to be in my bed waiting for me, never mind for him to jump me as soon as I got there) causing gooseflesh to rise all up my legs and torso. His fingers slipped just under the hem of my shirt, trailing fire along the sensitive skin below my navel, and I moaned, breathlessly, fisting my hands in his hair.

He broke the kiss, resting his forehead on mine as we both fought to catch our breath. He lifted his other hand to cup the side of my face before he dipped his head to kiss my nose, eyes, and finally my lips in quick succession, then rolled off me and out of bed.

"I've got to go," he said in a low voice, reached over my bewildered, flushed face for his wand. "Nox. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

I just nodded, incapable of coherent speech, and watched his silhouette in the sudden darkness duck out from between the bed-curtains.

A second later, he was back, poking his head through the part in the hangings. "I nearly forgot," he whispered. "No time for you to ask a question so I'll just tell you, since you told me a lot tonight as well: my mother is completely without a single marble to speak of and we detest each other because I don't share her notions of blatant bigotry against Muggleborns, and so she decided to disown me out of spite. She'd hate your ever-loving guts. Night, Spencer."

And then he was gone.

*