“I am not snogging you, Black!”
Padfoot looked just as aghast as she, for his jaw was dropped and his egoistical confidence had completely flooded a way as he had watched the bottle rest upon him. He couldn’t kiss her! He just couldn’t. “The feeling’s mutual, Night,” he growled back at her fiercely, considering he looked as though he might hurl.
Florence became even more angrier, shockingly so considering all he had done was agree with her. “I’ll just spin again,” she said through ground teeth. She grasped the bottle and moved to turn it, but it resisted, remaining firmly in place. Florence pulled so hard she groaned in exertion, but it didn’t move. After a long moment of trying in vain, she finally gave up, panting from exhaustion. “It won’t budge.”
A strange look crossed her face as she looked up to meet Padfoot’s eyes from across the room, that one expression that was something deeper than disgust. Padfoot looked from her to the bottle, as though unsure how he too should react to all of this, but after a heartbeat his lips twisted into a smug smile.
“Oy! Looks like you’ll have to kiss me after all.” Crazily enough, Padfoot no longer seemed unhappy about it.
“I’d rather kiss a snake!” Florence barked in return, not about to give in that easily. Nothing was that simple with the hotheaded Night. She climbed to her feet, fists clenching and feet taking a fighters stance. “After all, it wouldn’t be that much different.”
Padfoot’s eyes flashed at the verbal assault and he too was quickly on his feet, storming over until he was nose to nose with her. They looked like two people who were about to fight to the last breath, whether it be with words, wands, or handguns---they’d even stoop to Muggle weapons right about now. They looked like two warriors going to a war that they would not come out of. They looked like an annoyed, bickering, furious, loathsome, and passionate…couple.
“Yeah?” Padfoot yelled in return. “Well…I would rather kiss a…a…” He was having trouble finding words at the moment, but you can not honestly blame him, because at the moment his mind was filled with an old and sudden question. Where her eyes always that blue? He mentally shook it off and finished. “A skrut, that’s what!”
Setting her hands on his chest she shoved him backwards angrily, her voice becoming hostile. “Sirius Black, you are the dumbest, most arrogant jerk, I’ve ever met!”
Sirius straightened himself, but once again he found it difficult to return the insult. But he was a Marauder, he wouldn’t give in to a girl. No matter how pretty she was. “And you’re the most blockheaded…” He looked into her eyes and immediately knew he’d made a mistake. He faltered, but only for a brief pause, and he continued, yelling just like before, “Frustrating, beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
“‘Beautiful’?” Prongs repeated to himself, suddenly becoming fearful that his friend might have been dropped on his head as a baby. He leaned over to Moony who sat beside him and whispered, “Is that supposed to be an insult?”
Moony could only shrug for he was as dumbfounded as everyone else in the room by the sudden twist in direction. They all could only watch the two arguing Gryffindors, for as much as they wanted to look away there was simply no place to look too. Lucius and the Black sisters were wearing looks of disgust and embarrassments and making wishes that they could be anywhere but here. Evelyn was currently hiding her face in her raised knees, desiring dearly to be able to say that she did not know the woman currently making a fool of herself. Lily was thinking slightly the same thing. Wormtail seemed to find the intense scene wonderful, for he was watching with wide eyes, looking as though he might give applause. He may not have understood a thing, but at least he wasn’t bored. And Severus---Merlin, that speck of dirt must have been fascinating!
Florence, however, was shamefully unaware of anyone in the room; instead her tongue was tying itself into a knot. Her mind toyed with the word he’d just said, weighing it carefully, but not daring to believe Padfoot might actually think she was beautiful. No, he was just torturing her. Which made her even angrier.
She shoved him again and once again he stumbled backward before righting himself.
“I detest you, Black!”
“Not as much as I detest you, Night!”
“You make me sick!”
Where the words came from, Padfoot couldn’t tell you because he was clueless. All he knew was that he was lost in his passionate anger and her blue, blue eyes and it just sort of…slipped out. “Do you want to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss you?”
In response Florence threw her arms around Padfoot’s neck and plastered her lips against his. Padfoot returned the kiss greedily and they were soon entangled in a long, deep, and thourough snog, while everyone one else averted their eyes, trying desperately to comprehend what had just happened. What they all didn’t realize was that hate is not always that opposite of love, for sometimes when you feel such a poignant emotion as hate it is only a release of a deeper emotion you yourself can not comprehend. That is why Padfoot and Florence hated one another; because they actually and truly fancied each other.
When Padfoot and Florence parted, they were breathless but grinning vivaciously at one another. They were perfectly and happily content and they suddenly loved spin-the-bottle. Glorious game, wasn’t it?!
However, all the others were wishing that each turn wasn’t as climatic as this one. So much drama had to be bad for the health. Any more of it and staying here forever would begin to look pleasant.
“Alright, Black, Florence,” said Lily after a moment. “You can leave the circle.”
They did as they were requested of, still smiling merrily, and unless ten people were hallinating--and with all the stress of the night it was possible--they were holding hands. When Padfoot and Florence were sitting by the wall, much closer than necessary and quietly planning a weekend at Hogsmeade spent together, the group simultaneously filled in the gaps. There was an awkward pause as they once again waited for someone to agree to take their turn. When no one did, Lily took action, patting Evelyn encouragingly on the back.
“You should go.”
Evelyn let out a squeak, looking around with wide fearful eyes. The poor girl’s nerves were stretched so far that it was a wonder she didn’t snap or pass out. She was looking incredibly dizzy, her pupils attempting to roll back into her head, before she would shake her head wildly to be able to see straight again. Evelyn had always been the fainting sort. Knowingly this, Lily shook her gently.
“Just get it over with, Ev,” Lily comforted. “You’ll be fine.”
Swallowing, Evelyn crept forward on her knees and reached her fingers to the bottle. She hesitated and her fingers jerked, but after a little whimper left her lips, she closed her eyes and whipped the bottle into a spin. Pushing her face into her hands, she didn’t dare look, but she could hear the rustle of the bottle whirling furiously, could hear it slowing, and then she heard it stop.
She had to look; she had to see who she was about to kiss. So, fearfully, she parted her fingers and peeked between them. Directly across from her, where the bottle was pointing, sat Wormtail, pointing at himself with his mouth gaping like a fish.
Prongs laughed. This game was actually getting fun--well, at least when he forgot that soon he would have to play it too. He gave Wormtail a hearty slap on the back, cheering him on. “Alright. Go snog her.”
Wormtail climbed to his feet, wanting nothing more than to transform into a rat and go scurrying away, but he couldn’t because if he gave away the Marauders secret, he’d be better off dead. So he moved to the center of the room, waiting apprehensively, but Evelyn had suddenly forgotten some simple things, like how to breath and work her feet, so for a long moment she could only stay on her knees, her breath coming in great pants. Only after Lily had given her a mighty but helpful shove did Evelyn find the strength to climb to her feet and face Wormtail. But…did the world always dip like that?
“Well…” Wormtail began anxiously.
“Well…” Evelyn repeated, teeth chattering.
They both wanted to get it over with, so they came forward at the same came, smacking foreheads and bumping noses. Prongs laughed at them, but Lily glared across at him, not seeing anything amusing about their unfortunate friends’ discomfort. Seeing those green eyes narrowed so hotly made Prongs shut up immediately.
Wormtail and Evelyn tried again, this time succeeding with the fine art of tilting to the side slightly. It was a quick kiss, nothing more than a peck and what could barely could be considered a kiss, but Wormtail’s eyes turned as wide as saucers and Evelyn lost the rest of her hold on the world, the blackness that had been tinging her view taking it over completely. She tumbled backwards in a dead faint and would have smacked hard on the ground if Lily hadn’t scrambled to her feet to catch her.
Evelyn landed into Lily’s chest, knocking out Lily’s air with an ‘oof’. Inhaling deeply, Lily pulled her away from the circle and lowered her gently on the ground. Florence was quickly at Lily’s side, taking a handkerchief from her robe pocket and waving it over Evelyn’s face.
“Had a bit too much excitement,” Florence admitted and Lily and she shared guilty gazes. They knew well that Evelyn never would have been a part of this if they both had insisted she stay. They’d brought her into this mess and dear, tender Ev had paid a dreadful price.
“Not that brave, for a Gryffindor, is she?” Padfoot questioned Florence, though there was no cruel note in his voice in his voice to make in an insult, just an attempt to get Florence’s attention back to where he thought it belonged. On him.
Florence gave him a shove and snapped, “Shut up, Sirius.” But she was grinning and nearly giggling as she said this, making it clear it was a playful act.
Padfoot smiled at her, giving her his infamous lady-killer grin, the one Florence used to hate but now obviously adored. Lily rolled her eyes, but kept her attention on Evelyn. Evelyn looked peaceful now that she was unconscious quite like she was simply sleeping.
“Keep fanning her,” Lily told Florence, “And she should be alright.” She turned her attention back to the game, looking over at all of them. “Who’s turn is it?”
There was no one jumping up and down to take a turn. Andromeda and Moony were pretending they hadn’t heard, Andromeda returning to the inspection of her nails. Narcissa and Bellatrix glared, daring her to try to make them go next. Prongs and Lucius were scowling at each other, trying to force the other to volunteer. And Severus was still inspecting his little friend, Mr. Dirt Particle.
“You should go, Lily,” Florence suggested softly.
Lily hesitated, torn between her duty to the unconscious friend and the need to keep the game going, even if it did mean sacrificing her first kiss in such an unpleasant manner. But, at last, she sighed in agreement, because there was nothing more she could do for Evelyn. “Alright.”
Lily pushed to her feet and knelt down beside the bottle. She truly didn’t want to do this, for all the boys who were left were not those she wanted to kiss. Moony wouldn’t be so bad, she supposed, but Prongs and Lucius would be horrid. And Severus…nope, she didn’t want to even think about it. She was just going to spin and have it over with it. Taking a deep breath, that was exactly what she did.
Prongs was suddenly attentive. If he ever would have a chance to kiss Lily Evans it was now, because if that bottle pointed to him, she would have kiss him. And the bottle had to point to him, because he could already taste the sweetness of her lips, could already feel his blood race. Of course, he was the only one. Lucius felt filthy by the very thought of snogging a mudblood. Moony was pretending this was not happening and he wasn’t the only one, for Severus was---all right, it’s official. The boy is obsessed with dirt!
Prongs watched the bottle intently, spinning in a brilliant blue blur, hoping, praying that it would pause on him. It was beginning to slow and slow, passing Lucius and Moony and slowing even more. Yes, yes, it was going to stop on…
“Snivellus! You have to kiss Snivellus?!”
Severus head jerked up, his face contorting into a unusal expression of surprise so genuine and strong that he looked almost frightened. But the look quickly disappeared, his face turning back to its calculative, dark self. He glanced at the startled Lily, who was still kneeling, frozen in place where her eyes fixed upon him.
Severus jerked his head up, his ability to ignore the situation wiped away by his unseen horror. His dark eyes looked across the room to meet Lily’s surprised eyes, as her lips parted in a soundless, breathless ‘oh’. But as stunned and troubled as they were by the even, these emotions could never match the speechless, sickened, devastated, and nearly-suicidal Prongs.
“You…you…you…” Prongs mind was so incredibly flustered that he had reduced his vocabulary to precisely one word. It took him a long moment before he’d remembered such simple things as how to move his tongue. It took him a long moment to stop stuttering and gain control. When he spoke again, his voice was a clash between disbelief and anger. “You can’t kiss, Snivellus. You’re get grease stains all over your face.”
In normal circumstances, Severus would have whipped out his wand and cursed Prongs without hesitation. But this was no average event, for it was not everyday that Severus was forced to kiss a Muggle-born Grffindor. The very unfounded idea was unsettling; but this wasn’t a passing muse. It was a starting reality; a vision of the near future. Such was so overwhelming that Prongs almost seemed merciful.
But Lily wasn’t so deaf to the words. The shock left her, turning her loose features in a heated expression of furious disfavor. “Grow up,” she snapped at Prongs, unsure why his words enrage her so, but the words spilled out. “Kissing him would be better than kissing you.”
Prongs’ eyes flared and he sent a hot scowl at Severus, as he pushed to his feet.
Severus didn’t want to do it and almost every part of his body screamed at him to sit back down, to refuse to comply. But, yet, he found himself walking towards Lily who in turn stood, so that they were inches from one another, because deep within he knew that he had no choice. Either kiss Evans or spend eternity with Potter. There was that reason and perhaps---and just perhaps, mind---there was a small, miniscule part of him that didn’t quite find snogging Lily unpleasant.
No, that couldn’t be it. Severus shook off the idea as Lily looked up at him expectantly. He told himself that he hated her and everything about her. He told himself he hated her innocent, genuine smile that showed her heart. He told himself he hated her fiery temperment and stubborn nature. He told himself he hated the way the soft wand-light set her red hair ablaze. He told himself he hated those green eyes and he almost convinced himself of it all too. But, why, oh, why did she have to smell so good?!
“Let’s get it over with then,” Severus said gruffly, though the grudging in his voice nearly seemed forced.
Lily nodded in agreement, closed her eyes and waited.
With a huff, Severus lowered his head, but paused, his lips so close to his he could feel her sweet-smelling breath on his mouth. He took a deep breath, mustering all the courage the brave boy possessed, and covered her mouth with his.
Her lips were soft and tasted like honey and pumpkin juice and the contact turned his pulse up an uncomfortable notch. He wondered if she could feel his heart thudding as easily as he could feel hers.
Unbeknownst to the kissers, Prongs was fighting with every part of his being to keep from murdering Severus right then and there. His teeth and fists were clenched so tightly it was painful, but he didn’t seem to notice under the torment of what he was watching. It was torture! For the first time in his all his days, Prongs found himself locked in his greatest nightmare! The nightmare of being jealous of that greasy-haired git.
Padfoot had the wisdom to come to Prongs side, knowing he might have to prevent Prongs from ending up in Azkaban.
The kiss should have ended right there, for it only required a few seconds before parting for the two to do their part. But a few seconds past, and a few seconds more, and to Prongs’ everlasting dismay, the two did not part. In fact, they were getting closer. Lily wrapped her fingers around Severus’s collar as though to hinder as escape--though that was the last thing he wanted--and deepened the kiss. Severus tensed, surprised, but not displeased, before relinquishing, wrapping his arms about Lily‘s waist, and pulling her near. They were no more Slytherin and Gryffindor; no more mudblood and half-blood; no more greasy-haired git and fire-haired belle; only two people who immensely enjoyed snogging each other.
Prongs was on his feet, his hand going after his wand, and Padfoot was force to grasp his arms through his friend’s, nearly putting him in a half-Nelson to hold him back. Prongs struggled and called threats that the victim didn’t seem to hear. “I’ll kill him,” he growled seethingly. “They were supposed to give a kiss. Not neck.”
“Easy, mate,” Padfoot tried to coax, though he too felt a desire to throw up. It was for no want for Severus’ health that Padfoot held back Prongs, but for his friend. As tempting as the idea of letting Prongs have his way was, one of the professors would surely notice Sevurus missing.
When the two parted, Lily was lightheaded and Severus was breathing shallowly. More for show, he glared at her, though to Lily it seemed fake and meaningless, with no real fury to it. Without saying anything to one another, they went to their separate places outside of the circle, keeping as far away from Prongs as was humanly possible in such a small room. Lily’s beaming smile was something less than discrete.
Prongs face was still red, though he had stopped fighting with Padfoot. His entire body shook with rage and Severus was doing a wonderful job of pretending not to notice his killing gaze while Severus’ fist was wrapped around his wand, fully expecting an attack.
“Remus, my friend,” Padfoot hissed down to Moony, trying to sound nonchalant though it didn’t quite work, considering he was still holding tight to his friend. “I’d suggest you spin, before Prongs really loses his cool.”
Moony held back for a moment, but with a glance at his friends, he nodded reluctantly. It was his turn.
He crept forward and, forcing himself not to think deeply on his actions, he spun the bottle. It whizzed about merrily, glowing and letting off bursts of light, before it began to reduce in speed. After a few heartbeats, it stopped, pointing its ebbing neck toward none other than Adromeda.
There was the usual amount of staring and pausing, before Moony and Adromeda climbed to their feet. Adromeda knew how to fake bravery and that sophisticated air so common to the Blacks. It was what was expected of her and she used that act now as she climbed to her feet, tilting her chin gracefully and squaring her shoulder, ready to kiss her cousin’s friend. Moony himself felt a surge of courage. He was a Marauder, after all, and he’d learned that if he couldn’t beat them, join them, and have a good time doing it too.
The kiss went off flawlessly, though the feelings of it were awkward, something like snogging a stranger full on the mouth. They made it quick, doing their duty and escaping the circle as collected as they could force themselves to be.
Once the kiss was done, Prongs seemed to relax, though no doubt he hated Severus all the more now and he sat.
And then it was the other Black sisters turn to look at one another and debated upon who’s turn it was to spin.
Narcissa volunteered the other first, using a sweet smile. “You do it, Bella. You’re the eldest.”
But Bellatrix was not quite as foolish as that and she twisted the statement with such each she paused not even for a second. “No, I insist, dear Cissy. After you.”
Their benevolent smiles turned into sneers, but neither one caved. It was a good thing Lucius decided to become suddenly fed up with the foolishness of women, because the tenacity of a Slytherin Black could have lasted for a very long time.
“This is ridiculous.” Throwing his hands up in exasperation, Lucuis made a scoffing sound and stormed towards the bottle. “I’ll spin, if you two nags will just shut up.”
And the Black sisters were best friends again, reinstating their friendship by joining to scowl menacingly at Lucius as he jerked the bottle in a pirouette. Round and around it twirled, before abating to a halt, pointing to no other than the despicable woman he hated. Narcissa Black.
Bellatrix, who always found enjoyment in the suffering of others, could feel sympathy for her favorite sister, but still a smile curved her lips. At least it wasn’t here. “After you, Cissy.”
With equal begrudging, Narcissa and Lucius stomped up to each other, knowing extremely well was expected. Lucius wrinkled up his nose. Narcissa wrinkled up her nose. And then they kissed.
All displeasure seemed to disappear from both faces and the kiss lasted much longer than would have been considered necessary, as they delved into the knew and unconsidered territory of something other than dislike for one another. Bellatrix disapproval and frown went deeper and deeper until her forehead let out a single imperfect crease, not liking how this development might be headed. But a thought ended her displeasure. At least, Lucius was pureblood.
Finally, Lucius and Narcissa parted. Lucius let out a blood-cooling exhale and then looked at Narcissa as though he had never seen her before. His eyes were judging, savagingly weighing as his thinking of Narcissa changed. No longer a vexing Black, but a prospect. She was of a good family, pureblood and respectable, and a pleasing kisser. In the world of pureblood marriage, there wasn’t much more than that.
Narcissa opened her eyes and looked up with him, her icy blues meeting his cool grays. A seductive smile touched her ruby lips, curving them ever so slightly as she whispered so no one else could hear, “Did you enjoy that?”
To his own surprise he found himself admitting to her what he already knew with a slight nod and ardent smile.
“Good,” she said and then her face hardened, her fake smile disappearing in a flash as she looked at him malignantly. “Because it’ll never happen again!” She whirled about so quickly that the golden tips of her flying brushed against his nose.
Lucius confident smile fell, looking almost devastated. But he quickly regained control, glowering furiously at Narcissa’s back as she moved to the far wall. What a fool he had been! But no it wasn’t his fault--at least, as he told himself. It was hers--the filthy temptress. “Women,” he growled lowly, before blustering towards the oppisite side. Lucius Malfoy didn’t bow to any woman. She may want nothing to do with him, but Lucius would have his way. That was the day, Lucius swore that one day he’d marry her. Because he always had his way.
“Right,” Lily surveyed what was left with the game while Florence was helping Evelyn to sit up, as the poor girl was only just beginning to regain consciousness. “Now that just leaves--” Lily stopped. This wasn’t going to be good.
And that was the conclusion every one came to when they made the conclusion at who was left to kiss one another. Bellatrix and Prongs turned in unison, meeting each other eyes. Prongs face contorted and Bellatrix’s dark eyes flashed with obvious refusal.
“Oh, no,” Bellatrix whispered stoically. “That is not going to happen.”
Prongs eyes were narrowing as he wondered if it was possible that this was all just a nightmare or someone’s sick idea of a joke. If it was a first, he wanted to wake up right now and if it was the latter, the prankster had better say his prayers. But joke, nightmare, or bloody hallucination, he was not kissing Bellatrix Black. The idea was so completely horrendous that he had to laugh to keep from crying. And laugh he did, the sound coming out maniac and deranged.
“Sure. Right. This game has been fun, but this is going to far.”
There was anger from nearly all of the ten who had gone before him. Only the Marauders and the whoozy Evelyn didn’t feel a flash of rage. It was Lily who spoke first.
“Game? Fun?” she snipped at him, once again looking so much like an enraged McGonagall Prongs nearly recoiled as she stormed over to him. “This isn’t a game, because games don’t have consequences of being locked forever in a room if some blockheaded pratt decided to not play. And it wasn’t fun when Evelyn passed out !”
Prongs was on her feet, facing Lily. There was no way he was backing down from her now. He’d taken too much. Whether he’d planned to marry her or not, with ruining his duel, treating him like a student, turning him down countless time just on this night, and, not to mention, that snog with Severus, this girl had pushed him too far.
“No, Evans, I’m not doing it and that’s final.”
Lily’s face was almost matched her hair and her hand raised halfway as though to slug him, but she resited. “You arrogant, conceited, deranged, scruffy-look twit! You’re going to kiss her, if I have to make you do it at wand point!”
There were nods of agreement from Florence, Severus, and Lucius and, all together, four stretched their fingers around their wands, pointing them meaningfully at Prongs.
Prongs looked from one wand tip to another, his struggle clear in his mind. Finally he gave in, not because he was threatened, but because it was too late to turn back now and the thought of a nice warm bed and the opportunity to forget this ever happened was too desirious for him to continue to refuse. “Alright.” Prongs threw up his hands in surrender. “I’ll do it!”
“Good for you, James,” Lily said mockingly, placing her wand back into her robe pocket, before turning away.
“Whoa, wait a minute.” Bellatrix climbed to her feet, her nose once again wrinkled in graceful distaste. “I certainly never agreed to kiss him.”
“Bella!” Narcissa’s was impatient and strict, something uncharacristic to the younger sister. She set her feet, doing the thing she rarely did. She stood up for to her sister. She would never have done it, but as far as she could see, Bellatrix’s pigheadedness was the only thing standing between Narcissa and her freedom. Big sister or not, no one was keeping Narcissa from that desired possession. “I did not snog Lucius Malfoy for you to turn into a yellow-belly chicken!”
Bellatrix’s eyebrows raised. She was about to glare are her sister, to tell her she should respect her elders. She was about to scream at her, order her never to call her a coward. She was about to storm over and slap her across her face, to show her the place. But she stopped, because Bellatrix knew, for once, her little sister was correct. She had no choice. As nightmarish as it was, she was going to have to kiss Potter.
“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms protectively over her chest and turning toward Potter. “Just do it and be done!”
They all watched him, wandering if Potter would be brave enough to do it or selfish enough to trap them in here forever. As frightening as it was, all their fates counted on Prongs‘ doing the very thing he was most unlikely to do.
Glaring hatefully, Prongs locked his fists at his side, stooped a bit and, just like that, James Potter kissed Bellatrix Black.
They were together only moments before Prongs reeled back with a yelp of pain, pressing his fingers to his bleeding bottom lip, hiding the teeth marks well. The astonished expression on his face turned to fury as he blinked at Bellatrix and sore lip twisting into an impregnable frown. “You bit me!”
Bellatrix’s face contorted in a mixture of disgust and temper, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and appearing like a four-year-old about to through a tantrum. “That’s for using your tongue, Potter!”
Nauseated by the very idea, Prongs looked as though he had been slapped across the face--or more so, for perhaps a girl striking him is not quite stunning--and his jaw became unhinged, gapping like a guppy. The accusation was unfair, ungrounded, and he unwrapped his twisted tongue in an attempt to force a denial. “But I didn’t…”
The contemptuous Bellatrix was so outraged and sickened that she suddenly lost all graceful reserve and pride in her capability as a witch and reacted in a very Muggle-like way. Lifting her knee and stepping forward, she slammed her foot down onto Prongs’ toes. With a howl of agony, Prongs grasped for his injuried foot . With a satisfied humph, Bellatrix twirled about and waltzed away, looking beautifully conceited and perfectly ready to wipe the taste of Prongs’ lips from her mouth.
Prongs made a show of hopping and cussing and making solemn promises of revenge. Lily’s lips curled back in a wide smile as she giggled, not bothering to hide it. Florence, too, was giggling, even as she helped Evelyn to her feet. Lucius and Narcissa were churtling mockingly and Padfoot glared at Malfoy, ordering him to shut up. Even Severus’ smirk held more amusement than was usual.
Finally Prongs set his foot back on the ground, though he winced slightly, wondering how he would explain a broken toe to the school nurse in the morning. Limbing gingerly, he took a couple of awkward steps toward the door. “Would someone try the dang door?!” he growled disgustedly, fed up with everything about this darn night.
Adromeda reached it first, eagerly grasping the doorknob and twisting it. With a pleasing breeze of fresh air and the most wonderful sound of squeaky hinges, the door swung open. Padfoot cheered, but it was cut off by the familiar laughing voice of the bottle. They swiveled about, watching and listening as the bottle faded from sight. Blue glow and all disappeared, leaving only the sound of its voice.
“Your name on my wall.
Memory more priceless than rhyme.
Come visit me again.
If you’ll looking for a good time!”
In unison, they turned to the right at the section of the wall that was blank with the words and with a illuminating, sizzling blue shine, new words were scrawled mystically into the wall. From their places they could read the flowing, cursive writing. All their names were carved for eternity into the same section of wall, the only place they would ever be united and a steady reminder that this dreadful night had truly happened. But that knowledge would only be extremely embarrassing if ever it escaped this room. They all seemed to make that conclusion, for they looked at each other searchingly, suspiciously, before Prongs spoke.
“This never leaves this room. Tell no one.”
They all readily agreed. No one was ever going to find out from them this room existed or who they had been forced to snog. They would not be the laughing stock of the school.
They turned to leave, Moony currently helping Florence by walking on Evelyn’s oppisite side, steadying her in her grogginess. One of Florence’s hands was wrapped around Evelyn shoulder and the other was slipped comfortably in Padfoot’s hand. Narcissa and Bellatrix were side-by-side, Adromeda springing quickly after them. No one failed to notice the way Lucius followed close as well, his eyes fixed on Narcissa’s back like a stalker on a prey. Prongs ushered Wormtail out, trying to make a smooth exit while limping gingerly. Severus and Lily were the last one to leave, not looking at one another, but Lily paused causing him to linger to.
Standing in the doorway, Lily looked back to where her sparkling name was written deep into the wall, along with so many other names. Wild magic had created this room and people throughout history had played by its rules, including the Founders. It seemed completely humorous to think about and a thought twirled her lips upward.
Surprised that anyone could walk away from such a night with a smile upon her face, Severus’ raised a single eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest cynically. “What are you smiling about?”
Lily was unmoved by his tone. It didn’t seem so callous anymore. Tough and hiding-his-heart and completely Slytherin, but that was just the way he was. And that was okay. It really was.
“I was just thinking about the Founders,” she giggled and Severus’ other eyebrow raised as he wondered what was so funny about that. “What if this was where Godric and Salazar stopped being friends? All because of a girl?”
Severus blinked at her humor, but if you looked closely in the darkness, you could a lip twitching with the desire to curve upright.
Lily continued, half-joking, but there was something in her voice that was pointed, as though she knew there was a deeper interpretation to her words. “It would make all of this Slytherin/Gryffindor feuding ridiculous, wouldn’t it?”
Severus didn’t speak, didn’t blink, didn’t nod, only stood perfectly still.
Lily exited the room and closed it behind them, before Lily sent him that innocent smile, the one so full of love and life. “Good night, Severus.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and chased after her friend, a dancing happiness in her steps. For, despite the strangeness, it hadn’t been that bad of an adventure.
Severus didn’t let her see his returned smile. His Slytherin pride wouldn’t allow it. After watching her disappear behind the corner, he turned away and with an easy stride and with his cloak billowing behind him, he turned the opposite direction.
Was the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor ridiculous? Maybe, just maybe. At least it seemed so tonight, in the minds of a few. And, if even for a few moments, in the life of Evans and Snape.
It was not the only effect that the night had on the lives of all those involved. Padfoot and Florence dated for many months to come and never before had you seen a more perfect couple--after all, the best of love starts in the oddest of ways. But, eventually, their paths set them apart; no more companions, but friends to the end.
Lucius pursued Narcissa from then on, not for anything as innocent as fancying or love, but because of that resoluation. She would be his. And, eventually, she was. For, as she thought, at least he was pureblood.
There wasn’t a time when Evelyn and Wormtail crossed each others’ path that they both didn’t turn a spectacular shade of red and from that day on, Adromeda and Moony pretended that the other didn’t exist.
Bellatrix and Prongs hated one another even more than that. They couldn’t meet without the threat of homicide lingering in the air. But she wasn’t the only one Prongs detested. Ever since, he could never look at Severus without remembering that night. He set out on the goal of making Severus’ life miserable and of making Lily his girl. And, as he outgrew his big head and finally became a decent man, he succeeded in doing the latter.
But, even as she fell in love of James Potter, Lily Evans never forgot her first kiss. And for that matter, neither did Severus Snape.
But one thing was for sure, none of them forgot that night, that room, or that demonic bottle. And none of them went wandering the halls of Hogwarts on Friday, the Thirteenth ever, ever again.
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