Disclaimer: Not Mine

Author’s Note: Well, I spent one good afternoon away from my laptop, in my friend’s pool. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve stayed dressed all day a single day in weeks. Oh well, it is summer. I find, also, that I never manage to get home quite when I thought I would. I stayed out with my friends until almost ten on Monday—which seems reasonable until you realize that I picked up my friends at 1:30 to go to the Japanese grocery store we love. At any rate, it was refreshing afternoon and now I’m going to attempt to get down to business. Let’s see how fast I can finish ten pages, shall we? I am going to try to make up for lost time by completing this chapter in less than a week. I will be leaving for Michigan on the 8th so…I have five days. Technically, it’s more like having six nights as I’m going to be rather busy in the upcoming days what with the Independence Day and a few birthdays. Yeah, I think I can do this. If not, I’ll just finish the chapter up there and go find Wi-Fi somewhere. It seems like there’s Wi-Fi everywhere these days. Also, I was reading through ‘Quidditch Through the Ages’ and realized that, since the first Nimbus was released in ’67, James was probably riding either the original 1000 or something later. So I’m gonna go back in and change ‘Cirrus’ to ‘Nimbus 1001’ but, for now, just know. Moving on I thank you all for reading but I enthusiastically thank my reviewers and especially:

--covet it!!—

X23 Maximoff: I’m so glad to know that you appreciate the bit about Peter. I think, as a writer, it is unfair to me and to all of the marauders—not just Peter—to portray him as a two-dimensional low-life. It says something bad about all of us. I try to make sense of it in my story—to explore why Peter was able to do what he did and yet be a friend to the marauders and, ultimately, spare Harry’s life. I try to explore the complicated nature of all of the marauders, even when they do things I don’t approve of. Sometimes, though, I look back at a scene and have to write Peter in because I realize he hasn’t said a thing. I’m glad, too, that you saw some improvement in my action. I think the higher thought content added to it quite a bit. The characters are allowed to be a lot of things that I’m not. We’ll still have to see about chapter 25 but here’s a quick turnaround for you. After all, I’m still only preparing for college—at my college freshmen register for classes and attend a 2 day orientation long before school starts. It’ll be mid-August that you need to worry about me losing time to college. Wow, just had a little day-dream about meeting an amazing, intelligent, hot guy at college. I’m sure it won’t happen—just as it hasn’t happened any other time I’ve dreamt about it. But here it goes! I hope you enjoy.

--covet it!!—

The Zinnia Blooms—Lose Some

Sirius thought for a straight hour about how best to get to Snape. It was quite possibly the longest that he had ever thought continuously about anything. As it turned out, after a straight hour of thought his ideas became less like Siri, the Marauder, and more like Sirius Canis Black, son of Orion and Walburga Black. Even Sirius noted with some alarm the change in himself. His plan was totally unlike himself. His plan violated several of his own moral codes. His plan was perfect and, despite several hard-spent moments, he couldn’t talk himself out of it.

“Well, Mates,” he began heavily, “I know how we’re going to do this.”

“Oh?” Ly asked, her temperament altered for the worse after attempting the same thing unsuccessfully for an hour. “Do tell.”

“Can’t,” Sirius replied more heavily than before.

“Well!” Ly bristled. “How, precisely, do you expect me to help you, then?”

“You don’t have to.”

“What about me?” James asked quickly. “You can’t keep all the fun for yourself, you know.”

“You can come, James.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Ly snapped. “It’s my book we’re going after.”

“Mostly it’s Snape we’re going after,” Sirius drawled with frightening expertise.

He didn’t like himself very much right now but, as ever, he liked Ly considerably less. He would always play favorites where he was concerned.

“Good!” affirmed James. He smiled, then, at Lycaon. “Look at it this way, Ly. You can sit back and relax while Siri and I take care of the hard part.”

The girl sighed and slumped melodramatically. “Fine, just do it then already.”

“Only at your behest,” Sirius replied, unable to help but smirk.

“Oh, away with you, you little git!” She growled. “Hurry before I hex you right out of your skin.”

“As if you could,” he rolled his eyes, grabbing the map.

“Try me.” She pointed her wand toward him with a kind of insolent languor.

Somewhere in his mind he wanted to brandish his wand and teach her once and for all not to treat him so poorly.

“I swear,” Remus interrupted his thoughts, “you two can’t go one day without getting into a fight with one another.”

“It’s him or you,” Ly replied, turning her wand on her own best friend. “You choose.”

“Don’t be a prat.”

“Remus!” Ly gasped and, just like that, her anger was gone. “You mistreat me, so! And watch your mouth!”

Sirius couldn’t even pretend to understand. Instead he rolled his eyes again and threw the cloak to James.

“You ready, Mate?”

“Sure,” James said. “Mind telling me where we’re off to?”

Sirius smiled then, feeling more like himself for an instant. “The Slytherin Common.”

“What!?” Ly yelped. “You’re going to the Slytherin Common and you’re leaving me behind?”

“Don’t be dense, Ly,” Sirius said. “There isn’t enough leeway in this plan for two accomplices. I’d just as soon go alone but I’d like the back-up.”

She smiled wistfully. “Another time, then?”

“Not if I can help it,” Sirius replied, opening the door to the hall.

“We off, then?” James asked, tucking the invisibility cloak inside his robe.

Sirius nodded.

“Wish us luck!” James urged.

“Good luck.” “Good luck.”

“Don’t get caught.”

Sirius tilted his chin down to stare at Ly more disapprovingly. “Blacks don’t get caught.”

“Since when are you a part of that?”

“Oh, store it.”

“Good luck.”

“Don’t need it.”

Sirius shut the door roughly behind him and to his right James merely chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just can’t wait until she really does jinx you one day.”

“Oh, har har har. Very funny. You can put the cloak on now, you know.”

“What? Sirius, the door can’t open with no one there—people will notice.”

“I know that, James! I’m not going to be under the cloak.”

“At all?” James looked a little crest-fallen.

Sirius gave him a crooked smile. “Nope. Sorry, Mate. Don’t need it this time around.”

James smiled sadly in return. “Alright, I understand. I’ll stand here all by my lonesome.”

“Oh, quit it, you prat!” Sirius punched the other boy’s arm lightly.

James laughed as he disappeared. “We can go now, then.”

“Glad to have your permission.”

James snickered as the two descended into the Common. Sirius felt a bit like a lunatic and was certain that, if he were to say a thing to James, he would look like one as well. Once in the hall and reasonably far from the Common Sirius brought out the map. Assured of their solitude he began to mutter over his shoulder to James as they walked. Walking lazily toward the Slytherin Common Sirius felt his stomach crawl. He wasn’t especially nervous about carrying out his plan—he was confident in that, but he realized that, had he not met James and Ly on the Hogwarts Express this walk would be his life. Before him sat what could very well have been his home. It was a less than pleasant realization.

“We’ll get there in a moment,” he murmured to James. “When we do, stay on the opposite side of the hall until we see the actual entrance. The wait along the wall next to it.”

“Got it.”

And no sooner had Sirius folded over the map and stuck it in his pocket than a Slytherin girl walked up, eyeing him curiously, as she did her best to be in her Common by curfew.

“What are you hanging about for, Black?” She hissed when she decided that Sirius wasn’t leaving.

Sirius looked her over as she stood uncomfortably by the entrance—clearly unwilling to say the password in front of him. Blast, he thought. I know who this is. Come on, now . . . Adara? Yes. Now what’s her last name?

“Actually, I wanted to see someone,” he replied in his least interested tones.

“I’m not letting you in.”

Sirius’ eyebrows arched of their own accord. “Excuse me?” He said without thinking. “Of course I’m not going into that hole-in-the-wall but you ought to think a little harder before speaking to a Black like that, Burke.”

Well would you look at that, I remembered her name.

The girl, although older than him, looked physically upset. True to her house, however, she remained cool.

“Who is it that you wanted to see?”

“Bulstrode, if you will. Marcus Bulstrode.”

“Alright,” the girl sighed. “I’ll send him out.”

“Thank you, Burke.”

She shot him one last half-humiliated, half-indignant glance as she put her hand to a particularly worn stone and whispered something unintelligible. As the stones rearranged themselves behind her Sirius could hear James shuffle over towards the wall. Sirius only wished that he could have asked for Snape directly, but that would hardly have been feasible. A tall, broad-featured sixth year emerged after a few moments.

“What do you want, Black? Adara said you wanted to see me?”

“I have a favor to ask.” Sirius replied in a voice which made it clear this was to be less of a request than a command.

Bulstrode frowned. “Why would I do you any favors?”

“Come on, Marcus!” Sirius grinned. “We’re cousins, aren’t we?”

The young man scoffed. “You’re closer cousins with the Potter boy.”

“True,” Sirius conceded.

“So, it’s settled? I’m not doing any favors.”

“Actually, you are.” Sirius pursed his lips. “Perhaps you remember when I visited your family, oh . . . summer of ’68?”

Bulstrode’s frown deepened, but his eyes said that he understood.

“Maybe you don’t remember everything, but I certainly do. And, somehow, I feel you’d prefer to keep that between the two of us. Well, three of us, to be fair.” Sirius smiled at his beautifully

executed black-mail and tucked his thumbs in his pockets. “That’s why you’re going to do me this favor. Really, it’s a small favor in comparison to what I’m doing for you.”

“What is it?”

“All I want,” Sirius replied coolly, “is for you to get Severus Snape and his school things—especially the book he checked out tonight—out here. It would be nice if he left his wand in there,” Sirius pointed at the worn stone, “but he absolutely can’t know that it’s me out here.”

“What should I tell him?”

“Be creative.”

As the wall closed again James poked his head out of the cloak.

“Can I come out now?”

Sirius shrugged. “Sure.”

“What exactly do you have on him, anyway?”

“Likes men.”

“No way!”

“Mm hmm.”

James shook his head. “How do you even keep something like that a secret?”

Sirius just smiled. “Not well.”

“So. . . you’ve been holding on to that for years to use as blackmail?”

Sirius saw the troubled look in his friend’s eyes.

“Not to use as blackmail, really. I just held on to it. Believe me, James; you’re lucky that your parents have retired from all of this family business. I know worse things about more important people and, frankly, some of it I wish I didn’t.”

The stones began to shift then and Sirius drew his wand.

“Lily?” Snape asked, his voice sounding almost friendly.

“Not likely,” James replied, grabbing hold of Snape’s robes and pulling him into the corridor.

“Potter!” He shouted.

“The one and only.”

“How-?”

“Me,” Sirius answered. “That was me.”

Sirius kept his wand pointed at Snivellus. He had learned not to let his guard down just because he had the upper hand.

“Black,” Snape said. “I might have known. Hardly brave enough to come alone, hm?”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed,” Sirius took a step forward, “but you have two wands pointed at you. So, go on. Give us one more reason to turn you into a giant pimple.”

“Hardly a transformation,” remarked James.

“Well, not to rush, but what exactly do you nitwits want?”

“The only nitwit I see is you, but you have a book we want,” Sirius replied. “Let’s see where it is.”

He crouched to rummage through Snape’s bag. He threw out a bottle of ink and listened with satisfaction as it broke and Snape swore. He tossed texts and notes over his shoulder until he came upon a small, dark book with the appropriate title emblazoned on the spine.

“Funny,” Snape said as Sirius stood, “I didn’t peg you as type.”

“Well, for once you’re right.”

“Surely Potter doesn’t want that book!” Snape continued even as James began to grind his teeth. “Oh, I think I understand. You’re here on an errand for the girl.”

“Listen you slimy little git-“

“No, no, I understand. She’s too much of a weakling to come and get the thing herself so she sent her goons.”

“Snape, I am going to start firing spells soon,” Sirius warned, his wand pointed directly at the other’s pale face.

“I am hardly afraid of a Black. Between you and your cousins it’s no wonder it’s a dying family.”

“Sirius,” James said, “let’s just kill him.”

“And while we’re on that vein—who really believes Lupin’s mother-“

“If you ever want to talk again you had best stop right now!” Sirius’s wand emitted red sparks that he hoped burned as he pressed its tip to Snape’s throat.

Snape’s black eyes glittered darkly. “Lupin on the other hand, I’d believe it if someone told me he was dying.”

“Alright,” Sirius pressed Snape to the wall roughly. “Go ahead. Say one more thing about my friends and see what happens. I dare you.”

Snape sneered. “What friends? You’re a Black, aren’t you? All is a pack of unfortunate-looking tools.”

. . .

Looking at James and Sirius sitting in the hospital wing, bandages here and there distorting their sullen faces, Ly felt something between triumph and rage.

She glanced down the room towards a closed curtained that housed Snape.

“So,” she crossed her arms, “this is what happens when we let Sirius decide what to do.”

“It was a good plan,” he protested.

“Except for the part with Snape. Wouldn’t it have been easier to have Bulstrode get just the book?”

There was a moment of silence.

“I didn’t think of that.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“It’s okay, Mate,” James said with a toothy smile which was made to look somewhat comical by the swelling of his upper lip. “I got a few really good ones in on Snivelly so it’s all fine by me.”

“You’re both hopeless. You use up a blackmail-

“It’s still perfectly good-“

“get your faces all garbled-“

“I think it adds character-“

“and have nothing to show for it! You didn’t even get the book.”

“Give us a break, Ly,” Sirius complained.

“Where are Rem and Pete, anyway?” James asked.

“You don’t want to talk to Rem right now,” Ly said. “As is I think he’s going to rip you a new one over all of this. And I don’t think Lily is ever going to talk to you again, James.”

James groaned. “How did Lily find out so fast, anyway?”

“Peeves,” replied she. “He’s not an idiot and he isn’t very fond of either of you. So he went around immediately to tell everyone what had happened.”

“I’d kill the prick if I could,” Sirius muttered.

“Too bad you can’t,” Ly smirked. “I’m sure he’s off making a mess so you have something to do for detention. I wonder just how many points you’ll lose.”

Both boys groaned but Sirius was particularly distressed.

“So bloody close! I thought for sure I was going to get to go first.”

Ly saw his frustration in the crease in his brow and couldn’t help but laugh. “Looks like it’s between me and Pete now.”

“You?” Sirius perked up. “Oh, no, Lycaon Saer. You take the fall for this one, too.”

“What? Why?”

“This was all your ruddy idea, that’s why!”

“It was not! You came up with the stupid plan that got you in trouble, not me.”

“We’ll see what Remus has to say about that,” Sirius said.

At this Ly could only laugh again. “If you think for one minute that he’ll side with you, you’re sorely mistaken, but okay. We’ll ask Remus.”

James shook his head and chuckled. “I just can’t wait until she gets you one day, Sirius. It’s going to be beautiful.”

“Store it,” grumbled the now irate Sirius Black.

Even with his face down-turned Ly couldn’t help but look at him. He wore everything so well. Bruises and bandages and swelling only enhanced him. It was horribly unfair.

“Well, I’m going back to the tower. You can tell me everything when you get in.”

“See you there!” James waved as she took a few steps backwards.

“See you, then!” Ly replied, turning on her heel.

“Aren’t you going to wish us luck?” Sirius called after her.

Ly stopped to grin over her shoulder. “I thought you didn’t need it?”

The unjustly attractive boy made no reply.

“Sorry, Sirius. There’s no helping you now.”

. . .

Outside the weather was gloriously autumnal and just cloudy enough to be perfect for a game of Quidditch. James sat in the locker room in his quidditch uniform with his eyes closed and a looping image of himself doing a victory lap around the stadium. In his mind he grinned triumphantly with the wind ruffling his hair and in the stands people cheered—including a particular red-head.

“Alright!” Woods shouted. “I hope you lot remember everything we’ve gone over. The variables are Zabini as a seeker—though at least this why he won’t be blatching near as much, both of their new beaters, and the new chaser. Now, I’ll make sure the new chaser isn’t a problem and I know I can count on the Daniels brothers to keep the bludgers from killing any of us, so, it’s down to you, Mill.” The two boys grinned at one another. “I’m counting on you to get the snitch before Zabini does.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Henry replied, still grinning.

Oh, how James wanted to win. Winning this game was right up there with winning over Lily Evans.

“Well, then, time to line up!” Announced Woods. “DeWitt, Johnson, Potter.”

James jumped from the bench to stand behind the other chasers.

“Daniels brothers—Martin first, and Mill.”

Woods slipped into line just behind James.

“Nice broom, Potter. Show us what it can do.”

James only nodded, and the seven of them stood against the wall, looking out on the quidditch pitch and up to the stands.

“Welcome, boys and girls, to the first match of the ’72-’73 school year! Today we have a riveting match-up between the Gryffindors with one new player and Slytherin with three brand new punching bags!”

James could hear McGonagall clear her throat warningly and smiled.

“Let’s go,” Wood said.

They walked out onto the pitch, and, as they did, James became unable to gauge the crowd’s reaction. He was absorbed in keeping pace and not falling all over himself.

James didn’t even notice that Greggor was announcing the team until he heard his name and saw a few jets of light from the Gryffindor stands. He had the best mates in the whole wide world.

Then, from the opposite side of the pitch, the Slytherin team emerged. Even with three new members it was clear that this would be no easy match for the Gryffindors. If nothing else, both of the Slytherin beaters were large and with considerably more muscle tone than their predecessors. They also looked significantly cleverer—which was never a good quality in someone whose job it was to injure other players. James noted with some internal confusion that one of these was a certain Marcus Bulstrode. Knowing the most intimate secret of a stranger was not a pleasant condition to find one’s self in.

James knew the first rule of a beater: take out the seeker. He looked down the row to Henry but the boy seemed not at all intimidated by the other team. Henry was calmly eyeing the sky, oblivious to any earthly woes.

Unable to rise above, James stared solemnly trunk which contained the four fate-governing balls of the game.

Madame Hooch saw that the formalities of the game were taken care of, and as Wood stepped back into line she threw open the trunk and undid the restraint with the blow of a whistle.

James shot up into the air, peering about to see where the quaffle had landed. It was in the hands of one of the Slytherin variables. Name or not, James then invested a significant portion of his energy into hating this boy who looked perhaps Henry’s age.

Knott sped up beside the boy and shouted the word ‘hawk’ to the boy and Flint. It was a play, James realized. Knott was calling plays to his team, another advantage that the Slytherins had over them. All the way at the hoops Wood couldn’t possibly call plays.

This disadvantage angered James.

“Martin!” He yelled. “Get this wanker!”

The beater looked somewhat surprised but greatly amused. He zoomed off as if to get hold of a bludger.

The Slytherins were moving quickly towards the goals and while Johnson and DeWitt flew alongside them, looking for an opening, James caught up quickly. His broom was faster and he was lighter, after all. There was no hope of stealing the quaffle from behind but as the goals drew ever closer James had a sudden thought. He dropped five feet and flew below. Then there was the tricky part.

James couldn’t possibly hope to snatch the quaffle with one hand. He tightened is legs on his broom and lifted his arms. The wind against his stretched out torso threatened to unbalance him, and any second the Slytherins would become fully aware of his presence. He made one quick go for it and watched, heart in his throat, as the quaffle fell from its place and into his hands.

Perhaps he had been wrong for it occurred to him that now was the tricky part. James needed only a nanosecond, however, to regain himself. He pulled the quaffle close to his chest and turned towards the other side of the pitch. DeWitt managed to position herself just a bit below and behind him. The Slytherins gained on him quickly but Johnson did his part to block them. James pressed on with as much speed as he could glean from his broom.

“Potter, look out!”

A bludger was coming from his left, set to collide with him any moment. He couldn’t afford to lose speed so he did the only thing he knew to do: a sloth-grip roll. Hanging from his broom, James watched the bludger fly exactly where his head would have been. The Nimbus brought him closer to the goalposts at a rate that seemed almost faster than his heart-beat. He righted himself as he approached the scoring area. Then the decision: would he pass or would he take his first-ever in-game shot?

James crossed the threshold and took the breath before the moment of truth. He closed his eyes, searched for peace or focus, and swerved sharply down and to the left, exposing himself to the wind as he made his shot with all of his strength in the throw.

The force of it threw him off balance and he spun before he could recover. The crowd roared, assuring him that he’d done it. Yes, he’d done it. In his head was the image of that victory lap. On the pitch, amidst all the action, James couldn’t hear a thing Greggor was announcing. It was all just background noise, fading away as the wind blew in his ears.

Knott had the quaffle, then, though, and there was no time for James to revel in small victories.

. . .

The score stood 100 to 30 with Gryffindor in the lead. Ly stood with her stomach in knots as she watched. A ninety point lead was impressive but far from unshakeable. With the snitch worth 120 points and the Slytherin chasers wearing Wood down quickly it was imperative that Mill

catch the snitch. Frankly, it had been quite long enough anyway. Quidditch games were expected to be as brief as possible—if they ran too long it mean that the seekers were talentless. Prolonging the game did neither Mill nor Zabini any favors.

“What a game!” Greggor yelled. “We have had nothing but action here from our teams. The score is holding at 100 to 30 but Wood appears to be tiring. Hold in there, old boy! Zabini and Mill continue to circle the pitch looking for the snitch, which seems to be particularly elusive this game, as Gryffindor takes hold of the quaffle again. Johnson has the quaffle as Potter and DeWitt zag about near him, which appears to be intimidating the Slytherins nicely. Knott is trying to edge in but Potter is having none of it. A bludger catches Flint’s shoulder and--oh! Bulstrode repays the favor with a bludger straight to Johnson. The Quaffle is in Rosier’s hands now. Knott is mimicking Potter’s tactics, only at about twice the size this is impenetrable. They’re racing towards the goals. Better start prepping for another great block, Wood, because the shot is coming for you fast. Rosier approaches the scoring zone and Knott enters! Knott has the quaffle and Merlin’s Saggy-“

“Greggor!” Minerva shouted.

Daniel Greggor wasn’t the only Gryffindor swearing loudly. Beside Ly Sirius let a number of inappropriate oaths fly. Seeing Crystal’s frown at this almost made-up for the opponent’s scoring for Ly. The idea that Crystal was so unused to that rougher side of Sirius pleased her tremendously.

“It’s in. The score stands 100 to 40.”

Ly sighed, her face flush and her blood pressure higher than usual. They ought to have beaten those bloody Slytherins five minutes ago.

“At last Mill seems to have spotted the snitch! He and Zabini are racing towards the center of the field. Their courses are merging now and Mill is pulling ahead. Come on, Henry! Seal the deal! It’s a close call with Zabini just barely behind Mill. Zabini is pushing hard as the two gain on the snitch. Show ‘em-OH! MERLIN’S BEARD! THAT CAME OUT OF BLOODY NOWHERE! A bludger gets Mill at the last bloody second and Zabini gets the snitch! Unbelievable!”

As Minerva attempted to keep Greggor from swearing any more severely Ly, Sirius, and the many of the Gryffindors picked up where he’d left off. Madame Hooch blew her whistle signaling the end of the game and motioned to the Slytherin team to officially pronounce them victorious. The stand shook with the frustration of dozens of students. The teams landed and Woods jogged immediately to Mill who lay on the ground, seemingly unconscious.

Looking from Sirius’ tantrum to Remus’ indignity and worry to Peter’s bitter disappointment Ly could hardly bear to think what James must be feeling.

“Come on, Mates,” she said over the commotion. “I have a feeling there’s a Marauder down there who needs a little cheering up.”

Author’s Note: Can I just say that I truly hate writing about Quidditch? It’s pure drudgery for me. I hope it doesn’t show. Hopefully that will change after I’ve seen/played a few games. Did I mention they play Quidditch at my college? Because, while I’m not sure how they do it, they do. Each of the four buildings in the Meyers quad has a quidditch team and they play in front of the Honors dorms. I’m quite giddy at the prospect of inviting the quidditch team to see the next Harry Potter movie with my friends and I. We decided that we needed more boys to go see it with us and I realized—aha!—I can invite the quidditch team. They’ll all be nerds, relatively successful--academically speaking, and one of them is bound to be attractive. So I look forward to that immensely and, as I said, maybe it’ll change my outlook on writing about quidditch. Perhaps I should consider reading a few sports columns?

BUT after some confusion and some stressing on my part—apparently I become really stressed out when dealing with Betas—I have a really amazing Beta who I am thrilled to be working with. She also writes about the marauders. Remus/Sirius, a pet paring of mine. Check her out, though. Enjie Yekcam. This means that soon I'll be able to put out the audio chapters of TZB. Stay tuned!

Hope to get a review from you soon.