Be All My Secrets Remembered

La Reine Noire

Story Summary:
'Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.' Spanning from spring of 1976 through the fateful Halloween night of 1981, the adventures and misadventures of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, and their contemporaries, particularly those belonging to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, Toujours Dysfunctional. Warnings: contains dark thematic material, violence, innuendo, as many literary references as can be managed, and very mild slash.

Chapter 09 - On the Perils of Letter-Writing and Nicknames

Chapter Summary:
Wherein Remus discovers he is supposedly in love with Professor McGonagall, Lily finds out precisely how well-publicised her opinions are, we are introduced to the source of several unsavoury nicknames for assorted ladies at Hogwarts, and Sirius and Peter discover that pranks can backfire in thoroughly interesting ways.
Posted:
03/01/2005
Hits:
2,283
Author's Note:
New version, on account of a typo I found. A compulsive editor am I.


Chapter Nine: On the Perils of Letter-Writing and Nicknames

November 1976

Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, commanded many things. Respect. Awe. A fairly decent level of fear, as well a professor ought to have. Sirius Black, on the other hand, commanded none of those things, and was currently the laughingstock of Gryffindor.

Someone had enchanted all the reflective surfaces in Gryffindor Tower--of which there were many--to call out "Mirror Mirror on the wall, who's the prettiest of us all?" every time Sirius walked by. He had taken to wearing the hood on his robes over his face, though his friends made a point of pulling it back every time they passed a mirror...or a window...or a puddle...

Professor McGonagall's classroom was free of any enchanted glass, much to the disappointment of Remus, James, and Peter. She had already remarked upon the ingenuity of the prank, however, and all three boys had beamed, though not without glancing curiously at one another, as apparently two out of the three had no idea whose prank it was. Sirius merely glared at all of them, burying his nose in his Transfiguration book.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Today we will be..." Professor McGonagall trailed off, frowning, as she picked up a piece of parchment from her desk. "Did someone leave this here yesterday?"

Nobody volunteered. With a shrug, she unfolded it, having noted that it was in fact addressed to her. Several seconds later, her eyes widened.

"Mr Lupin, would you care to explain this?"

"What?" Remus blinked, glancing around at his friends, all of whom looked just as bewildered as he did. "I don't understand."

"Oh, don't you?" Her lips pursed, though it was difficult to tell if she was genuinely irritated or trying to hide laughter. "After all, you signed it."

"I what?" he demanded, now looking distinctly worried. "I've never seen it before, Professor, I mean it."

"Come now, it's quite impressively written. The sentiments are perhaps somewhat inappropriate, but I'm capable of appreciating a well-crafted letter."

"Sentiments?" Remus echoed. He began to sink down into his seat pre-emptively. "Oh no."

"O Lady of my heart," she began, her face giving the very distinct impression of one trying her hardest not to laugh. "Would that I could distil my feelings in writing, yet I find I cannot, for you would defy all poets, let alone one so humble as myself. There hovers in my restless head, not one, but many thoughts, graces, wonders, which into words no virtue can digest..." glancing upward, she nodded approvingly, "A good line, Mr Lupin."

Remus felt his face growing even redder, especially as Peter began to snicker in the seat beside him. He could hear other students begin to join in as well.

At the front of the room, McGonagall continued, relentless, "...I do wonder, if I even ought to be penning these inadequate sentiments, for what on earth would they make you think of me?" She did smile now, albeit dryly. "I find it quite amusing, Mr Lupin, but I'm afraid I have to respectfully decline. You may take that as your answer."

Fully half the class was now hopelessly laughing. Both James and Sirius were all but on the floor.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to calm yourselves, we will begin the lesson."

***

"What's this, Moony?" James peered idly over his friend's shoulder at the parchment he was reading before flopping down on the grass beside him. "McGonagall write you back after that love note you sent her?"

"For the last time, that wasn't me!" Remus protested hotly.

"Hmm...let's see here. Your handwriting, your signature reading 'Remus Lupin' at the bottom..." James shook his head. "The evidence is overwhelming."

Remus sighed. "You've read my essays, Prongs. Did that letter bear any resemblance to something I would write?"

"Letters and essays are two very different breeds, Moony," Sirius pointed out from where he was sprawled on the grass, thumbing through his Transfiguration book. "I had thought to compliment you on your turn of phrase. Never thought you had it in you."

"That's because I don't have it in me--" Remus broke off, eyes narrowing at Sirius. "I do, however, know someone who does."

"I can't think what you mean," Sirius glanced up at him, innocently curious. "Though enquiring minds do want to know who the lady is that sent you that parchment," he gestured to the letter in Remus' hand. "Unless you want us to continue saying it's McGonagall in increasingly loud voices."

"Her name is Melina Kafantaris, if you have to know," Remus declared, glaring at Sirius. "She's from Cyprus and was visiting her cousin in London when we met during summer holidays."

"What, your own Greek goddess, Moony? Your own Aphrodite?"

"Aphrodite?" Peter seemed to snap to attention immediately, his head popping up from his half-finished Transfiguration essay. "Aphrodite Carmichael, the Slytherin Slut? Tell me you aren't serious."

Remus gaped. Sirius and James nearly fell over. "Bravo, Master Wormtail," Sirius crowed, grabbing Peter's hand in an attempt at a shaking it while the other boy merely stared at him, completely baffled. "Well said, sir. Well said."

"You really weren't listening, were you?" Remus finally managed, burying his face in his hands.

"The Slytherin Slut?" Lily's voice rang out above them, incredulous. "What sort of asinine, disrespectful, misogynistic..."

"Oh, stuff it, Evans," retorted James easily enough, though his hand arrested itself halfway to his hair. Remus noted this with some curiosity. "You're thinking exactly the same thing and you know it."

"I am not!" Lily glared, hands on hips. "I don't even know her."

"Gentlemen, Evans, allow me." Sirius cleared his throat with obvious relish before reciting as if from a book, "'She drapes herself over any available male surface and I swear her jumpers are so tight that her breasts look like they're trying to escape and return to the wild.'" Pausing, he looked directly at Lily, his face perfectly straight, "Lily Evans, 30 September, 1976, a complaint lodged after an incident in the Great Hall where aforementioned Slytherin Slut decided to simultaneously throw herself across Lupin, Potter, Pettigrew, and myself. An impressive feat."

Lily, by this point, had turned somewhat pink. "I was irritated."

"You were spectacular. I made a point of writing that particular description down, though it did somewhat confuse Professor Flitwick, as it was on the back of James's Charms essay."

Remus made a queer choking sound, trying desperately to hold in his laughter. "On the back of...oh dear God..."

"Yes," James remarked, looking at Sirius with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "He wrote me back, asking why it was any of his business that Miss Carmichael has objectionable taste in clothing...and why my writing looked suspiciously like that of Sirius Black."

"Flitwick knew who you were talking about?" Peter demanded. "What did you do?"

"Flitwick knows all," intoned James before breaking into a grin. "I spoke to him after the lecture, of course. I informed him that the views were not mine, but those of a certain Miss Lily Evans, and that Sirius Black had written them down, not realising that he was writing on the back of my essay."

Remus gave up, falling backward as he began to laugh. "You're impossible. Both of you."

Lily was speechless, her face now a very distinct shade of red.

"Oh Evans, don't worry," James reassured her with a grin. "Flitwick apparently agreed with you."

***

"Don't know what you're concerned about," intoned the mirror in the Prefects' bathroom as Lily peered into it to worry at an inkblot on her cheek. "It'll wash away easily enough."

"Listen to the mirror, Lil. You scrub at it too much and it'll start hurting," a laughing voice called from the doorway. Dorcas Meadowes, one of the two sixth-year Ravenclaw Prefects stepped into the bathroom and pulled the door closed behind her. "I've been meaning to talk to you for weeks, Missy, but you keep avoiding me."

"Because I know exactly what you plan to ask."

"And what, pray tell, is that?" teased the slightly older girl. When Lily just crossed her arms and grinned, Dorcas shook her head with a laugh. "Right, so I want to know if you're ever planning on snogging Sirius Black? And if not, do I have your permission to do so?"

"Snog Sirius Black?" she blinked. "If you want, I suppose. I can't imagine why you'd want to."

"Lily, you have the loveliest eyes. Don't tell me they've stopped working." At Lily's expression, she smiled wickedly. "Darling, he's a treasure. In fact, they all are. Even Pettigrew, he's got that absolutely innocent air, ripe for all sorts of delicious corruption."

"Dorcas!" Lily exclaimed, feeling the colour rise in her cheeks. "And you wonder why I keep avoiding you? I spend all my time blushing when you're around."

"Don't worry, dearest," She settled on the counter, crossing one leg over the other as she leant against the mirror. "I'm not nearly as bad as I sound, I promise."

"I should hope not!" her friend remarked tartly. "Otherwise I would have to wonder if everything they say about Ravenclaw girls is true..."

"Everything they say? Who is this they and what are they saying?"

"Oh, just rumours," Lily smiled sweetly. Two could play at this game. "Something about all the interesting things you learn from books."

"Well, you know what they say about the girls from Gryffindor," Dorcas teased back, leaning close. "All enthusiasm and no skill."

Lily gasped, choking on laughter. "That's awful! Tell me they say it about the boys too."

"Oh, definitely. Though I wouldn't mind firsthand experience, if only to make sure for myself. Scientific curiosity, nothing more," she stretched her arms upward in a lazy movement. "Don't look at me that way."

"I'm not looking at you in any way," Lily demurred with a shrug. After a second or two, she glanced at Dorcas somewhat hesitantly, "How's Moira? She's still not exactly speaking to me...well, she is and she isn't. You know?"

"She's not sure what to believe, honestly. Though I can tell you this. Fabian Prewett finally got up the nerve to ask her out for a drink at the Three Broomsticks during our next Hogsmeade visit, so you can probably rest easy after that. Besides, it's not as though she actually knew Black or anything. She just mooned over him from a distance like everyone else. Which is why I'm absolutely dying of curiosity," she concluded, "though not just about him."

"About who then?" Lily enquired with a roll of her eyes. "Have they paired me off with someone else too?"

"No, but I'm doing extra work with Professor Flitwick and on the way to his office several times now, I've seen you disappearing into the Potions dungeon with Severus Snape. I don't suppose you'd be willing to explain?"

"Severus?" Lily exclaimed. "He's helping me with N.E.W.T. Potions, nothing more than that!"

"Right. Now tell me the truth," she demanded, her lower lip jutting out somewhat mutinously. "I'm a small, petty person whose only delight lies in gossip. Tell me."

"We're not all sluts like you," Lily retorted, her grin softening the insult. "Some of us actually work while we're at school."

"Bitch," the single word emerged with no rancour whatsoever. "Unlike you, I have a reputation to uphold. I am the Reigning Tart of Ravenclaw, after all."

"I can't believe you let them call you that," Lily shook her head.

Dorcas shrugged. "It doesn't bother me. Why should it bother you?"

"It's just so...crude," she said, a disapproving twist to her mouth.

"Well, there wasn't anything that rhymed with Ravenclaw. An unfortunate coincidence."

"Wait..." Lily glanced up at her, frowning, "...you came up with it?"

"Not me specifically, but I was there. It was last year, in History of Magic. Binns was rattling on about Radagast the Brown and Prunella the Periwinkle and naturally we were all bored out of our skulls. So Black slipped Potter a note saying we ought to do something to pass the time. It was Travers who started the whole thing by mentioning something about Aphrodite Carmichael the Slytherin Slut. I could have kissed him for the alliterative genius of it," she gave an overdramatic sigh, leaning back against the mirror again. "It was all downhill from there. I came up with the Hufflepuff Harlot, and Black countered with the Gryffindor Whore, which while not alliterative had a lovely rime suffisant to conclude. It was only when we came to Ravenclaw that we were absolutely stumped."

Lily could only stare, her mouth hanging open until a glance in the mirror concluded that she looked suspiciously like a hooked fish. "That was what you lot were snickering about?"

"It was well worth snickering, if you ask me." Dorcas allowed herself a grin before continuing, "Finally, between them, Black and Potter offered up the Ravenclaw Tart, which has no poetic value whatsoever. So I amended it to the Reigning Tart of Ravenclaw." She paused, tilting her head to one side. "I suppose that does mean I came up with it. In a way."

"I don't believe you sometimes. You're truly outrageous."

"The trick, dearest Lily, is not to care what they think. Carpe diem and all that crap. You only live once, you ought to have fun whilst you do it. Which leads me to my final enquiry. If you're not chasing Sirius Black, may I?"

"It's not the chasing that's the problem," Lily demurred. "It's the catching."

"I think I could catch him," Dorcas replied confidently. "It just requires the proper bait. And I think I have it," she drew up her leg onto the counter, revealing lace-edged stocking and a garter as she met Lily's incredulous eyes, "don't you?"

"You're absolutely shameless," Lily murmured.

"My dear, at least I enjoy myself," she replied, slipping off the counter in one graceful movement. "You ought to try it."

"Me?" Lily squeaked. "Not in a thousand years."

"Oh, come now," Dorcas purred. "Aren't you curious?"

"I'm not, as it happens. I'm quite happy in my current status, thank you."

"Snape isn't terrible-looking. Though would it hurt him to wash his hair?"

"It's neither your business nor mine whether or not Severus washes his hair," Lily retorted rather primly. "At least he's got better manners than most of the other Slytherins."

"What, like Crabbe and Goyle?" Dorcas giggled from behind one hand. "I can't imagine either of them ever finding a willing girl. Trolls, the both of them." She paused, struck with sudden inspiration, "Now there's a prank. Adverts in the matrimonial column of the Daily Prophet for Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle. What do you think?"

Lily laughed despite herself. "I think they can use all the help they could get. But what on earth would it say? 'Large gorilla seeks mate'?"

"Oh, they aren't that bad. I could have sworn I caught Goyle hiding a copy of Au Recherche de Temps Perdu one day when I found him, though I couldn't for the life of me get him to admit it. He thinks I'm a half-blooded slut anyway."

"He's got at least half the argument right, apparently," Lily pointed out.

"Sometimes," Dorcas mused, frowning slightly, "I think it might be easier to pretend you were an idiot. Everyone really does seem to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Dorcas," Lily studied her friend with obvious disbelief, "you can't be serious. You've got absolutely no patience. How on earth could you possibly pretend you were an idiot?"

"The same way James Potter does, of course. You think he's an idiot, don't you?"

Lily had to think for a moment. "He's not an idiot as such. He acts idiotically on a fairly regular basis, yes, but I don't think there's a doubt in anyone's mind that he's really quite brilliant."

"Not to mention he's got lovely eyes. Or so a certain friend of mine told me once," teased Dorcas, another grin tugging at her mouth. "You needn't worry. I've not told him."

"I should hope not!" Lily glared. "Some friend you'd be if you had."

"Not that it matters, really. After all, he's with Kate Campbell and carrying a not-so-secret torch for Snape, last I heard. Or have you finally proven that letter to be a forgery?" she queried.

"I can't imagine for a moment that anyone actually believed Potter wrote that letter."

"Oh, I don't know," Dorcas demurred. "I would be quite flattered if someone wrote me something quite that...florid...in Latin, no less."

"My money's on Black, personally."

"What, you think he's carrying a torch for Snape? How disappointing."

"No, silly. They do this all the time. Play ridiculous pranks on one another. I sincerely doubt any of them carries a torch for Severus."

"And of course you don't have any interest in Severus," Dorcas teased, fluttering her eyelashes mockingly.

"I don't. I don't carry a torch for anyone, as it happens," declared Lily, the words sounding far more prim and proper than even she had intended. "I have better things to think about."

"Of course you do. As do we all," her friend replied with a shrug. "I just think you could do with a bit of fun."

"We're not all you, Dorcas. If I have fun, it's unfortunately at the expense of other things," Lily confessed with a sigh. "Maybe over Christmas holidays."

"I'll hold you to that, you know," warned Dorcas. "Or better yet, I'll inform Black and make him hold you to it."

Her words lingered with Lily for a surprisingly long time afterward. It was one night, in the Gryffindor Common Room, when she was curled on the couch with her Potions textbook, that she found out she wasn't particularly good at hiding her inattention, as she felt the unmistakeable sensation of a wand prodding her in the side.

"What was that for?" she demanded, unable to quite hold the glare she wanted to shoot in Sirius' general direction as the distracting little voice in her head--one she now acknowledged sounded rather eerily like Dorcas--pointed out that he really was quite handsome from that angle...Oh Lily, really. Apparently spending half an hour with Dorcas is enough to absolutely ruin you for proper conversation. "You prodded me," she added unnecessarily.

"I've only been calling your name for the past thirty seconds," he remarked. "Is something the matter?"

"No...well..." she frowned, "not as such, no. Do you think I don't have enough fun?"

"Have you been talking to Meadowes?" he enquired in response, grinning as the blush crept up her cheeks. "She told me, don't worry. And I promised her I'd make sure you had fun in the nicest, most harmless way possible."

"Right, I believe you," Lily crossed her arms, studying him dubiously. "You look just as innocent as Remus did when he claimed he didn't write that love letter to McGonagall."

"I'm flattered you think so, seeing as he didn't write it."

"What do you mean, he didn't--?" Lily could only stare for several seconds. "I should have guessed it was you."

"Every word," Sirius replied proudly. "Except the ones I stole from Kit Marlowe. But I don't think he'd have minded the minor theft. Of course, I did sign it as having been from Moony, so perhaps Marlowe wasn't such a good idea..."

"It was very pretty," Lily allowed. "And McGonagall did say it was very well-written, even though she thought the sentiments perhaps slightly inappropriate. Though I must ask, what on earth did Remus do to deserve that kind of embarrassment?"

"You mean you didn't notice every reflective surface in Gryffindor Tower screaming at me?"

"That was Remus?" she blinked. "I assumed it was Potter."

"That is because Moony is easily the most adept I've ever seen at shifting the blame," Sirius replied, genuine admiration tempering his words. "He's quite brilliant. Nobody ever suspects him, being a Prefect and all."

"Just as nobody ever suspects you of writing love letters, being the least romantic male at Hogwarts. I guessed you'd written the one to Snape, but only because Potter wouldn't know poetry if it hit him with a stick." At his nod, she rolled her eyes. "You boys and your idiotic pranks."

"What can I say? I'm a lover of the written word. And don't underestimate Prongs; you'd be surprised at the things he comes up with." She snorted, to which he merely grinned. "Wormtail's next, by the way. Who do you think the recipient ought to be?"

"I'm not getting involved in your madcap schemes, Sirius Black," she declared, doing her level best not to smile, "but I did hear something about a certain fifth-year named Laura Hennessey who isn't quite able to stop looking at him."

"Why Prefect Evans, you would aid and abet a prankster?"

"Yes. Carpe diem and all that crap," she added impulsively, with a toss of her head.

Sirius merely raised his eyebrows curiously and picked up a piece of parchment to begin crafting his next literary masterpiece.

***

And so it came to pass that Peter Pettigrew entered the Great Hall several mornings later to find the entire fifth-year female population of Gryffindor giggling in his general direction. Warily, he slid into his usual seat next to Remus and enquired, voice low, "What's wrong with them?"

Remus sighed. "Wish I knew. I've had at least six of them ask me where you were."

"This worries me."

"As well it should," James put in from the other side of the table. "I like not this whispering."

Sirius, seated next to him, merely shrugged. "I suspect we'll find out soon enough."

"Out with it, Padfoot." At Remus' demand, all three boys peered curiously at him. "What did you do this time?"

"Why is it always me?" Sirius protested with perfect innocence. "I'm not the only one whose reputation isn't pristine."

"They're giggling over a piece of parchment. Considering the past two times this has happened, I'm blaming you until further notice."

"It was you who wrote that note to Snape?" James exploded. "You bloody..." he broke off, the growing expression of horror on Peter's face making it impossible for him not to laugh, "...oh, very well. At least you made it semi-literate."

"Semi-literate? I thought it brilliant. But thank you, nonetheless," replied Sirius with an exaggerated bow. "I hated the thought of wasting five years of Latin lessons."

"And would you be so kind as to confess to the second one as well?" came the long-suffering request from Remus. "I've not heard the end of it, least of all from the other prefects."

"Fine, fine. If you insist. Yes, I did it. But you have to admit--"

"Of course, of course. If I had to write a love letter to McGonagall, that's precisely the sort of love letter I would have wanted. Right down to misquoting Marlowe," Remus groaned with a roll of his eyes.

"But I misquoted well, which gives me some credit. On second thought, though I suspect I ought to have addressed it to Flitwick if I truly wanted to be appropriate." He paused for barely a second before a positively devilish grin lit his face. "Now there's an idea..."

"...an idea you won't be implementing," Remus concluded, "unless you want me to carefully adapt a certain section of 'Hero and Leander' to apply to a certain greasy-haired friend of yours from Slytherin. You know I'd do it, and you know I'd get away with it too."

"And waste all that effort I put into the letter from Prongs?" enquired Sirius innocently. "Besides, after what he tried to do back in spring, if we're thinking of the same passage, you may well have hit upon something unconscionably brilliant."

Remus coughed into his hand, a transparent attempt not to laugh, and Sirius leaned back in his chair, his face the very picture of insufferable smugness.

James finally spoke, after having spent the past several seconds shooting glares alternately at Remus and Sirius. "I don't know what either of you are talking about but I don't like it."

Peter seemed on the verge of saying something when one of the fifth-year girls broke off from the clump and ventured close to where they sat, eyes downcast. "Peter?" she asked softly.

"Y---yes?" he managed in response, hearing James's muffled snicker from behind and flushing red as he saw the parchment in her hand. "Is something wrong?"

"I just...I'm Laura Hennessey."

"Yeah," he nodded. "I know. Look, about that note..."

"It was beautiful," she blurted out, all in one breath. "Really. I..."

"You thought so?" Peter asked slowly. "What did it say, out of curiosity?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"I...er...well, you see..." he straightened, doing his best impression of Sirius in one of his more theatrical moments, "I wrote it in the spur of the moment. I had no idea what on earth I was writing, it just came to me and...well, I'm glad you liked it," he finished lamely, having lost his momentum somewhere in the middle.

"What he's trying to say," put in Remus with a well-hidden grin, "is that you inspired him. Isn't that right, Pettigrew?"

Peter nodded wordlessly.

Laura blushed. "You said I was beautiful. Like the wind."

Sirius muttered something to James under his breath, then let out a sharp yelp as Remus kicked him under the table. "You were saying, Padfoot?" Remus enquired dangerously.

"Nothing," Sirius managed between choked laughter. "I'll tell you later."

Laura frowned, glancing between them in puzzlement before fixing her--admittedly pretty--smile on Peter. "Are you going to say anything?" she enquired, suddenly bold.

"You are," he finally said, eyes squeezed shut as if trying to give himself further courage. "I mean...so long as you don't mind my saying so."

"I don't mind at all," she stepped back. "I'll see you around, Peter."

"See you."

By the time she returned to her group of friends, Remus, Sirius, and James were all collapsed, laughing uncontrollably. "So much for a prank, Padfoot," Remus snickered. "You managed to get Pettigrew a date."

Sirius shrugged with a good-natured grin, "Que sera sera."


Author notes: Yes, the first reference to Aphrodite Carmichael is a nod to Shakespeare in Love. I could not resist. Tom Stoppard is a genius.

The letter to McGonagall contains a paraphrase of a speech from Marlowe’s Tamburlaine the Great Part One, as follows.

“Yet should there hover in their restless heads
One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least,
Which into words no virtue can digest.” (V.ii.108-110)

And as to the certain passage from H&L...well, I'll keep it to myself, in case I actually end up using it later. ::grin::