Ami-chan Writes

I pick myself up cautiously, heavy chains scraping the ground as I move into a sitting position. For a moment I’m confused as to why he’s there, and then I remember the dark shape, the friendly smell, drawing my focus and pulling me out of the red haze just before I passed out.

He looks as exhausted as I feel, hair long, face drawn, sitting cross-legged still wearing the same robes as he was the last time we ran across each other.

“What are you doing here?” I manage, finding my voice.

“Your welcome,” he answers, but then, “I needed a safe place—I smelled your blood, I realized what time it was, and figured you either had one or needed help…I’m relieved it was the former…”

My sense and sensibility are returning, slowly, “You heard about Harry and the tournament…”

He nods, and then, “You ran out of Wolfsbane?”

“I’m not sure I trust Snape to supply it properly now that suspicion wouldn’t fall on him quite so readily,” I consent, “Moody did make it to the school though, right?”

Sirius nods, “Apparently he did, but from what I’ve been able to gather things aren’t going so well. How in touch have you been keeping?”

“I’ve been muggling around, so not very,” I consent, “I heard what they were trying to say about Hagrid and decided I didn’t trust the Prophet.”

“They’re not all like Skeeter,”

“I know, but it was easier not to bother, since getting ticked off isn’t going to do anything to help.” Last thing you need in the middle of a muggle restaurant is to start muttering enough at a paper that people start to look at you and then notice the pictures on the paper are moving, “I did get some information from Hagrid when I got in touch to make sure he was alright, but…”

“It’s Hagrid. I’m sure he was full of dragons.”

“After he cheered up,” I nod, “and when he wasn’t trying to tell me off for leaving.”

“You’re a fine one to talk about not letting what they think drive me away,” Hagrid groused.

“It’s different, Hagrid. You’re not malicious. You have your father’s grace to balance you out.”

“You’re not malicious, neither.”

“I appreciate your confidence but I can’t risk the three days out of the month where if I make just one slip up, one moment of not paying attention…” a head shake, “Plus you have a good and long-standing history there. I’m sure Professor Dumbledore could have worked something out…but I don’t want him to take that kind of a risk,” and then a good change of subject, “How’s Harry doing with the tournament?”

His whole face lit up like a proud parent, “Oh, you should have seen him! He got passed a Hungarian Horntail!”

“There’s something going on that I really don’t like,” Sirius responded.

“The Ministry does seem worried,” I consent, “but you’re going to have to be very careful. You’re not thinking of going up to Hogsmeade…”

As soon as I mention it and see the way his expression shifts I don’t need him to answer. I try to move towards him but am still shackled up. He grabs my wand from my things next to him and undoes the locks, and helps me get free.

“It’s quite a ways from here…” I point out, “I can’t give you much, but I may have some food somewhere.”

“Right now it would be enough just to sleep without being on all fours,” he mutters.

“Well, then,” I point to the sleeping bag, “help yourself.”  

 “Oh, come on—,” Sirius is complaining, as I come back to the common area from the library, “There has to be something.”

“I can’t think of anything right now,” James complains. He looks as though he’s about to look to Peter for a suggestion and thinks better of it, “Ah, Remus--,” he says, instead as the portrait hole closes behind me. 

“What?” I ask. He has a look on his face that will spell trouble, “What are you guys plotting?”

Peter about chokes on a chocolate frog, waving his hands desperately in front of him to indicate innocence.

“Nothing—yet,” Sirius complains, “That’s the problem.”

“Ah,” I answer, sitting down and putting the books I just got from the library on the table, only three this time I’ve about exhausted their supply, I think.

“We’re trying to come up with something spectacular to pull, blow away all past pranks with sheer genius, and pissing off Malfoy would be an added bonus,” James explains.

“and Snivellus,” Sirius adds, “I’m always up for…”

“Why don’t you like him?” Peter asks, “He doesn’t seem that bad—for a Slytherin,” he hastily adds.

Sirius says nothing, just tuts and rolls his eyes.

“Besides,” Peter adds, when it becomes clear that he’s not going to get an answer, “Don’t we have a foot to write for Potions, and something to do for Transfiguration.”

“Journals for Divination,” I put in.

“There’s plenty of time to be worrying about that…” he claps Peter on the back.

“Speak for yourself,” Peter mutters.

“I always do,” James answers.

“Well, speaking for myself. I’m going upstairs,” I say. I’m not going to get much reading done if they’re trying to plot. I pick up the books, “I’ll make a start on that journal.”


TWO

“What are you looking so gleeful about?” I ask Sirius the next day as we’re leaving Charms for lunch. He and James were passing something back and forth throughout both this class and History of Magic, and he’s looking decidedly too smug to not be ‘up to no good.’

“You’re always so suspicious…” Sirius chides.

“With good reason,” I counter, "especially as Prongs just shot off like a rocket in the completely opposite direction to the hall. You’re up to something.”

“Your accusations wound me,” Sirius says, putting a hand over his heart and looking crestfallen.

We ignore a gaggle of girls who walk past, giggling to each other and looking flushed as they glance across at Sirius.

“But they’re not unfounded,” James puts in reappearing by Sirius’ side, putting a hand up to try and prevent any negative reaction I might have to this admission.

“You two are going to be the death of me,” I mutter, “or the expulsion…” I lean against the wall, squashing flat to let a group of third year girls walk between us, it gives me time to fix them with a properly reproachful look which will do no good.

“Now don’t talk like that…” James remarks, as we set off walking again.

“Because you want my help with something?”

“Now, Remus,” Sirius says, “Hear us out on this one…” as we arrive in the Great Hall, looking for Peter who had gone on ahead to save seats.

“Think of it as transfiguration homework…practicum…” James amends, sitting down next to Sirius. I move around to be sitting opposite, next to Peter, giving James and Sirius a further look of annoyance, but I can’t deny I have an interest, I’m very curious as to what this might be, and would…but…

Damn it all. I have no willpower when it comes to them, “Think of what as transfiguration homework?”

Sirius and James exchange more happy glances, “We want to change this,” Sirius holds up a sheet of parchment with writing on it, some of which has been crossed out or arrowed up, edited. This must have been what they were passing back and forth during the last two classes.

“So it looks,” James lowers his voice to a whisper, “as though it was written by the person who wrote this…” He leans across the table, passing over another piece of parchment, which has been folded over under his hand.

I skim the parchment which is a short piece of notation about a homework assignment that’s been given by the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher; the Slytherins have DADA this morning. I look up at them, “Whose handwriting is this?”

“Can it be done?” James counters.

“What are you trying to do?”

“It’s a journal…” Peter puts in.

“We had the idea last night, when you reminded us of our Divination homework…” Sirius remarks, as though this is now my fault.

I extend my hand across the table to give the assignment note back, “What exactly is it that you’re wanting to transfigure?”

There is a marginal reluctance about handing the paper over.

“Is it possible though?”

I nod, a little reluctant, but also very curious, “Oh, yes…of course it’s possible. I’m sure students have been using similar efforts to forge Hogsmeade notes, or even copy each other’s homework…”

The paper also is slid across the table to me. Peter reads over my shoulder.

I had another dream about Lucius L.M. Ever since he helped me out with Potter and Black two weeks ago. I’ve been dreaming about him, and it’s driving me crazy. I realize this is not something I should commit to paper...
It doesn’t help that we’ve been studying together and every now and then when I’m watching him and trying to pretend not to I catch him looking over at me, and he has this look on his face. Does he feel the same way?
I want to do keep telling myself to stop it, but that doesn’t work. It's nothing to do
I think I’m going mad. Utterly mad. 
No, I am going mad. 
I’m beginning to wish I was in a different house, so I didn’t have so many classes with him, because I can't and didn’t have to sit there, staring at his profile. The way his hair glints in the light of the flame from the cauldrons in the potions classroom…the way his eyes sparkle when he's vilifying Mudbloods...

"What do you think?" Sirius asks, as I flip the paper closed again.

"You're barking mad..." I tell him, "both of you..." I put in.  

James sniggers and points not so subtly at Sirius. "Oh, come on," James remarks, as Peter tries to take the piece of parchment from me to finish reading, "You know they are...Snivellus's lips are planted firmly on his arse..."

I close my eyes, relenting and letting Peter take the paper he's so desperate for, "You know the sort of retaliation we can expect from something like this?"

"But it's worth it." I'm told.