The Upside of Being Down

Chapter Eight: This is Me Sighing

I arrived late in Charms the next morning, as I'd overslept--right through my first-period Ancient Runes lesson, and break as well--only waking when James, having missed me at breakfast and wondering where I'd gotten to, flew his broom up to my window during break and banged on it 'til I heard him.

I managed the fastest shower of my life, pulled on my robes haphazardly, then snatched my book-bag from where it rested on the trunk at the foot of my bed and raced to class.

Panting, I pushed open the door to the Charms classroom and went in. After a mildly reproachful look from Flitwick, I made my way to my usual seat, face burning from exertion and embarrassment, and he went on with his explanation of Protean Charms.

"You look like a sweaty tomato," James informed me in a whisper as I slid into the seat next to his.

I shot him a look.

"A brassed off sweaty tomato," he expanded matter-of-factly, and Peter snorted into his hand, small blue eyes glittering with mirth.

Remus and I both glared at them, and it must have been quite frightening, because James actually recoiled a bit.

Sirius, however, was uncharacteristically silent. In fact, he was staring down at his open textbook with a dark, brooding expression and seemed determined not to look at me. He didn't so much as blink at my arrival, and if I wasn't much mistaken, it seemed as though he was purposely avoiding my eye.

Oh no. This was just not on. He wasn't getting away with sulking at me when everything was entirely his fault.

I'd overslept because of him, of course. How was I expected to get any rest after that little night-time encounter? More confusing yet were his attempts to comfort me, which had--amazingly enough--worked. Finally dropping off at around four in the morning, it was only natural that I should sleep right through my alarm and several school bells.

It didn't come as much of a surprise, either, that none of my dorm-mates had tried to wake me. As Sirius had so helpfully pointed out with the Happy Fairy episode, I wasn't very pleasant company as of late, and telling from my dorm-mates' renewed aversion to coming near me, I was obviously scaring people a bit.

Still, I wasn't about to let him get all funny and awkward after last night. I knew he didn't want to make any mistakes and ruin our friendship--no more than I did--but he had kissed me, and so Sirius would have to suffer the consequences.

With half an ear tuned to what Professor Flitwick was saying about some bloke named Badir Something-or-other who'd accidentally set fire to his socks after attempting to link them, colour-wise, with the necktie he planned to wear each day (another sad case of explosively clashing accessories--ha!), I dug into my bag for a spare piece of parchment and a quill, and hastily scribbled a note.

"To: Sirius Black, He of the Flea-Bitten Arse

"From: Tia Spencer, She of the Sweaty Tomato Face

"Miss Spencer wishes to inform you that you had better not start acting like a prat, because such behaviour will result in an immediate encore performance of the infamous Arseless-Trousers Fiasco of '74. You have been warned."

I folded this neatly, then, with a glance at Flitwick--still squeaking away excitedly about that Badir madman--, tossed it lightly over James' head and directly onto Sirius' textbook.

His head jerked up and around, an expression of surprised irritation on his face. I fixed mine into one of obliviousness--which wasn't that difficult, considering my lack of sleep and shortness of breath. He scowled, hesitated, then unfolded the note to read. I watched out of the corner of my eye as his countenance gradually lightened and I thought I may have seen the ghost of a smile on his lips before he bent his head to write back.

A minute or two later, the parchment landed back in my lap, his response written below my earlier missive.

"To: Tia Spencer, She of the Attractively Flushed and Glowing Visage

"From: Sirius Black, He of the Attractively Flushed and Glowing and not flea-bitten Arse.

"Just so it's clear, the fleas are Padfoot's problem. I am without pestilence of any kind. Bit lonely, actually, but you learn to live without the little buggers.

"Further to your warning, Mr. Black wishes to inform you that he is not acting like a prat in any way, shape or form. Certainly, he is as un-pratlike as is possible to be; so far from Pratville, in fact, he is on his way to Cooltown.

"Thank you and goodnight."

My brows rose as I fought to hide my amusement, but I'd already begun formulating a reply; Remus--who was on my left--leaned over my shoulder to see what I was doing.

"You're welcome and good morning. Sirius, why in hell is your arse glowing? You haven't used any funny potions on it, have you? Has James, for that matter?

"But I digress. Yes, you are acting the prat because a) You used the phrase "on my way to Cooltown" and b) you denied your pratlike activities no less than three times, indicating both guilt and a desperate and dire need for a lesson in argumentative writing (this last is Remus' input, of course--he says also that he found you a flea-repelling potion three weeks ago, why haven't you used it, and perhaps the many flea-bites account for your rosy posterior?)

"Hit James for me.

"--TS."

I continued to keep an eye on Sirius as he read the note I'd just sent back to him, and I was quite pleased to see the corner of his mouth turn up, before he broke out into a full-blown grin. He hurriedly scribbled a response, slid across to me the parchment, then pulled back a fist.

"Ow! Bugger, that hurt!" cried James in outrage, rubbing his arm and glaring at Sirius who merely gazed up at the ceiling innocently when Flitwick looked round in alarm.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Potter?" he inquired, his squeaking voice full of concern.

"No, nothing, sir," James bit out, shooting a last glare at Sirius. "Bug must've bit me."

I ignored them, feeling satisfactorily avenged for my cousin's less-than-polite greeting earlier, and waited for Flitwick to return to the lesson before unfolding the parchment in my lap.

"Tell Moony that I, er... 'donated' his foul-smelling potion to a needier cause--namely Snivellus, whose now-pleasing (comparatively) odour can be sniffed and enjoyed by all. Moreover, he is relatively flea-free, so at least we know it works, eh?

"This is me sighing. Do you hear it? It is the sigh of the woebegone, of the hopeless. Because you're on to me; that much is clear. Alas, I admit it, I am the King of Prats, and you shall all cower and grovel before me.

"Except you. You've soft lips, you may sit in my lap.

"I didn't sleep last night.

"--SB."

I ran my tongue along my teeth, thoroughly intrigued by this last admission. His handwriting had become hasty and careless, so that the ink was blotched slightly--as though he'd wanted to get it out as quickly as possible, to avoid loss of nerve.

My own reply was quite short, on a smaller, fresh bit of parchment.

"Me neither. Am considering lap-sitting offer. Yes, I'm on to you, which makes me wonder just how mad I have to be to understand a word that comes out of your mouth. Mr Moony has been informed, has gone properly purple in the face, and will most likely be sabotaging your next potion so that it turns your hair perpetually greasy. Oh yes, greasy forevermore. Stop sighing.

"--T."

Mere moments later, I had a response, even more splotchy than before.

"He wouldn't. My hair is far more precious than a (very un-) wasted potion. Surely he will show me mercy? (And do be an angel and tell him Padfoot would like a new batch made up chop-chop.)

"You aren't a nutter--merely open to new and exciting ideas, like me. Is it our fault we are boisterously flamboyant and possibly ahead of our time? I think not.

"My lap is open to your bum anytime it fancies a sit. It is also, I feel you should know, off-limits to any other bums, no matter how weary and in need of a strapping, young, ridiculously handsome resting place it may be.

"--S & P."

I snorted, leaned surreptitiously over to Remus when Flitwick's back was turned, and whispered in his ear. He flushed a bit again, brows beetling, and whispered back. I grinned, then wrote my response.

"My bum's not particularly weary, thanks, but hardly averse to a place to sit (ridiculous handsomeness aside.) According to Remus, he "most certainly would," but because it's he that has to deal with you on full moon, he'll make you a working potion--although, he is adamant, not until then, and so you shall have to either resist bringing Padfoot round or else put up with the fleas.

"Speaking of bringing Padfoot round...why don't you ask him if he's up for a visit to the girl's dorm tonight and I'll see if I can't promise him a good scratch between the ears?

"--Boisterously Flamboyant (apparently) and Possibly Barking."

Sirius looked up after reading this note and his deep-grey eyes met mine down the length of the table. He didn't smile, but he didn't do much of anything else, either. I cocked a brow questioningly, and he studied me a moment too long, a tad too intensely, so that I suddenly felt my face grow hot again--before he ducked his head to write his reply.

A second later, I was looking down at the single word on the now messily ink-spattered parchment, feeling a grin tug at my lips even as my stomach twisted hotly:

"Woof."

***

Friday night's tutoring session was going no better than Wednesday's had (I realized much too late I probably should have paid better attention in class the day before), but I was in a distinctly better mood, as the only things bothering me at the moment were the injustice of it all, and Lily Evans' incredibly annoying habit of bouncing her knee when she was concentrating.

Honestly. Her shoes even squeaked just a little, so that all I was able to hear or focus on as I was attempting to successfully perform yesterday's Protean Charm, was a faint squick, squick, squick! as her leg bounced restlessly.

I gritted my teeth and tried again, swishing my wand as she'd shown me.

"Sertus!" I muttered, but the pair of chessmen I was attempting to link just stared up at me, unmarked and unchanged, expressions of poorly-suppressed amusement on their tiny carved faces.

Aubrey was immersed in the Ancient Runes textbook Lily had loaned her, eyes whipping back and forth fiendishly, teeth set in her lower lip, while Lily had her head bent over the set of Arithmancy problems I had given her to work out, for the purpose of discerning exactly what she could and couldn't do. She'd grumbled about it, saying that I was just doing this to rub it in how badly she did in the subject (which, of course, was absolutely untrue... though she was crap at it); that was until she saw how hopeless I was at the Protean Charm, and that seemed to cheer her up a bit.

Lovely. Cheery Evans. What was the world coming to?

"Bugger," I said, for the tenth time, glowering in frustration. "I don't get what I'm doing wrong!"

Lily didn't glance up, clearly having her own issues with solving my Arithmancy problems, as she was furiously scratching out her last--and obviously wrong--answer, saying snappishly, "Are you doing the proper wand movement?"

"Yes!"

"And the incantation?"

"You didn't hear me? I've only said it about forty-thousand times!"

The tip of her nose went red; something I knew through years of experience with James meant she was on the verge of one of her notoriously long-winded blow-ups.

Banking down on my own extreme irritation, I said carefully, "Sertus."

"Well, that's fine," Lily said, almost grudgingly. "Your wand movement?"

I showed her, careful to do it the way she'd shown me at the beginning of the session.

"Hmm... perhaps a little wider arm sweep, and less of a flick of the wrist," she suggested curtly, then returned to her Arithmancy.

I mimicked her silently, pulling a face, then stuck out my tongue at the top of her head, before following her instructions. "Sertus!"

One of the chess pieces rattled a bit against the surface of the table where we sat at the back of the library. It was an improvement, anyway, even if all it did was move a little.

I glanced up and noticed Aubrey watching me over the top of her book. She turned a bright pink and looked down immediately, as though she thought I might make a face at her too.

Feeling for some reason suddenly, irrationally guilty, I cleared my throat and continued practising, trying to ignore Lily's squicking, and the extreme frustration I felt in my gut.

***

As I made my way up the stairs to the girls' dormitory later that night (the session had been allowed to go on an hour longer than was planned; though this hardly made a difference in our success) I was dead on my feet.

I hadn't had a proper sleep in far too long, and after "Padfoot's" visit the night previous, I felt very sympathetic to zombies and college students alike. Not to say that it hadn't been worth it, or fun--we hadn't done much talking, but our time had been put to excellent use anyway.

Wondering whether Sirius would be waiting for me again--and, for once, mildly hoping that he wasn't, so I could just sleep--I went inside the dorm, thinking that I might have to kick him out and wondering if he would make too much of a fuss about it.

Checking to make certain that my dorm mates were asleep, I parted my bed-curtains and lit my wand-tip to see inside.

He wasn't there, but lying on my pillow, curiously enough, were a book and an envelope.

Interested, I picked both up, crawling onto my bed and casting the light of my wand over the worn cover of the book.

"Charm Casting Made Easy," the spiralling gold title read.

My brow rose and I ripped open the envelope, on which was written my name in familiar hand-writing.

"Dear Snog Queen,

"I asked Moony if he had any books on remedial Charmwork--said I fancied a bit of NEWT review--and he nipped right off to the library and fetched me this. He was rather pleased and suspicious at the same time--as only Moony can be. I think he'd been under the impression that I wasn't even aware what NEWTs are.

"I think this because it is what he told me.

"Anyway, I hope this helps. Evans is pretty handy with a wand, she knows her Charms; you're in good hands, I think. Oh yeah, and I covered for you in the common room tonight--if anyone asks, you were in detention with Professor Banks for missing Runes yesterday. Or, you know, you could just tell them the truth.

"Don't sleep too late tomorrow. We need to go over our plans for a certain greasy-haired Slytherin git and your dreadfully important role as decoy.

"--S.

"P.S. Thought has just occurred to me. If Miss Spencer has now agreed to sit in Mr Black's lap for an indefinite amount of time, does that mark his promotion from lowly Footstool to most humble Armchair? If so, Mr Black would very much like to know the less metaphorical meanings of what in the hell we are talking about.

"xoxo."

I stared bemusedly down at the book in my lap, then the letter (and where did he get off saying Evans was "handy with a wand," anyway?), then back again, until finally, it clicked.

Sirius was trying to help me. He'd gone out of his way, had made an effort and was attempting not only to make me feel better about the whole tutoring situation, but to also make it easier on me by helping me along.

Sweet Jesus. He did know what simple kindness was. And here I had been, ready to buy him the definitive works, just to attempt to penetrate the idea into his thick skull.

I'd make a good man out of him yet, by God.

***

"I would just like to make it known that I have absolutely zero intention of going along with your ludicrous, childish prank and am fully prepared to go to any lengths in order to avoid involvement in whatever you have planned. I'll scream, I swear I will."

There. That should set them straight.

And I would have said that to James and Sirius, if they hadn't completely steamrollered me the second I sat down at the breakfast table the next morning, refusing to let me get a word in edgewise.

Not that they'd have listened to me if they had, as was made clear soon enough.

"Here's the deal," James began, as per usual. "You're not so much a decoy in this particular masterpiece of a joke--one of many--as you are an important catalyst in getting it underway."

How poetic. I could feel a tear coming to my eye. (Though that may have been because Peter, while reaching for the bowl of treacle, had just shifted the hot carafe of coffee and put it into direct contact with the back of my hand.)

Ignoring my wounded yelp and the string of curses that ensued, Sirius took my hand across the table and neatly dunked it into Remus' bowl of cold cereal (which admittedly felt quite good, though a bit odd, and also not very hygienic.)

"It's like Prongs says," he said, ignoring also Remus' outraged protest. "This time, you're absolutely necessary to the plan. Without you, there's no point in even bothering with this one."

"In that case, there's something you should know--" I began, but James stuffed the remainder of his carrot muffin into my open mouth, silencing me quite effectively.

"Now," he went on, "there are three parts to this truly magnificent ploy, none of which will work without full cooperation from all involved parties--that means you, Cos."

I swallowed the muffin and dried my milk-soaked hand on a napkin; my eyes narrowing as I studied him shrewdly for a long moment. Even Remus leaned forward a bit anxiously, to hear what my response would be.

"If," I said, at length, "I agree to help you--if, mind--what exactly would I be expected to do?"

"Can't tell you that," Sirius said promptly, with a brief shake of his dark head. "Not until we have your promise of participation. We can't risk you running off to Dumbledore or someone with our secrets, not 'til you're involved yourself."

My mouth fell open--I swatted away James' hand, which was attempting to insert a bit of toast this time--and exclaimed, "Excuse me? I'm your girly mate, you berk! I'm not about to get you expelled, even if I don't agree with some of the shit you get up to!"

"Maybe," James said, eyeing me as though I was a mere acquaintance, one he had yet to decide whether he trusted or not. "Dunno if you're up for it, though. What d'you think, Padfoot?"

"Dunno," Sirius agreed, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Could be that she may not be able to keep up."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," I burst out, rolling my eyes. "I've known you my whole life, James, and you for seven years, Sirius; when have I ever been left behind?" I shook my head suddenly, realizing just in time what they were trying to do. "But that's entirely irrelevant, because you're both being idiots and I refuse to take part in this ridiculous farce."

Instead of becoming outraged or getting down on his knees and begging (which I didn't really much expect to happen, anyway, but it still would have been nice), however, Sirius merely fixed me with an inscrutable grey stare, scratching his chin now. He'd not shaved, I noticed vaguely.

"What if we were able to compensate you?" he inquired, after a moment of contemplation.

The gleam in his eye told me exactly what sort of compensation I'd get, and while I was hardly against any of what was clearly going through his mind, I didn't, at present, have any particular desire to get a week's worth of detentions, either.

"Even though she should be doing it regardless of her own reward--we are family, after all," James added, quite loudly and with an expression of great perturbation.

I ignored him and instead said to Sirius, "I don't want to have anything to do with this, whether I get anything out of it or not. Why aren't you listening to me?"

"I am listening," he retorted, looking highly offended. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't be trying to change your mind, would I?"

"No, you wouldn't! Because then you'd have heard me say--again and again--I'm not getting caught up in another one of your stupid schemes, Sirius Black--yours, or my cousin's!" I stood up from the table, disrupting the jug of pumpkin juice so that some sloshed over the side into the platter of kippers. Peter yowled in horror.

"Tee, wait--"

"No, I said!"

I stormed off towards the doors exiting into the Entrance Hall, feeling unreasonably furious--it wasn't as if occurrences such as today's never happened, because they did; quite often, in fact. It just felt like one too many, and most definitely at the wrong time. Maybe it was that time of the month. Or maybe my friends were just being bigger gits than usual.

"Tia, hang on a minute, I never told you what your compensation would--oi, hang on! You'll strain something if you keep walking that fast!"

Nope. No more than usual.

I heard Sirius' clomping footsteps behind me, running with ease despite the heaviness of his combat boots, and I began walking even faster, breaking out into a jog when I felt his fingers brush my arm as he reached out to grab it.

"Bugger off," I snapped, swinging my bag more securely onto my shoulder. I experienced a kind of vindictive satisfaction when I felt it collide with something solid and heard him curse quite expressively.

"Fine!" he shouted, a bit hoarsely, as I quickly wended my way through the thickening crowd of students, his voice becoming more difficult to hear over their chatter as the distance between us grew wider. "Fine, don't do it! Don't help your bestest mate in the world! But you'd better come to the match, or I will be very, very upset with you, Miss Spencer!"

Quite a few of the girls giggled as he said this, tittering in delight amongst themselves, but I ignored everybody and dashed up the marble staircase, eager to be alone for a short while.

***

I needed desperately to relax, but I was much too restless to take a nap (horror of horrors!) or even cross-stitch for a bit, and so instead I ended up pacing the length of the empty dorm for the better part of an hour, watching as the slits of pale-gold sunlight on the floor gradually slanted and became longer and closer to the opposite wall.

It was good weather for a Quidditch match, I mused. Perhaps not for the players--the bright sun may prove to be a bit of a disadvantage--but for the onlookers sitting in the stands, it would be very pleasant indeed to bask in the sun's warmth while we watched them play.

Assuming I even went. I knew James and Sirius would, in fact, be quite brassed off if I missed their game, but I wasn't exactly in the best of moods just then, either.

I couldn't say precisely what it was that had me so agitated. Obviously, it was very annoying and also insulting to have all your vehement protests go basically ignored, but I somehow felt my reasons for currently wanting to throttle my cousin and best friend senseless went beyond that.

Unfortunately, I was also much too restless for my mind to settle on one particular train of thought for very long, and so I didn't dwell on it. Instead, I swore, loud and heartfelt, and threw open my trunk to find my Gryffindor paraphernalia in preparation for my role as spectator at the match.

***