Chapter Fifteen: Intolerable Apathy
[Marty]
I am waiting outside the Transfiguration classroom for Remus, who is having a word with McGonagall about his next transformation in a couple of weeks time. Sirius is waiting with me, while James and Peter have gone on ahead to save us seats in the Great Hall for lunch (as if we need it �“ no one would ever sit in the Marauders’ places anyway �“ all James and Peter really wanted was an excuse to stuff their faces earlier than the rest of us).
“It’s despicable, really,” Sirius is saying, “that they can’t wait just five minutes for the poor lad to speak to his teacher. Moony has faced indescribable hardships and all they can think about is food. I’m not even joking.”
He clearly is, but I say, hoping to lighten the mood, “I guess you could say you’re pretty serious ... right, Sirius?”
He stares at me. Now he really does look appalled, as opposed to pretending to look appalled. “Look, Marty, I appreciate that you’re trying to be humorous and I’m absolutely ecstatic that we are on speaking terms again. But please never use my name in that way again. It’s like me calling you Farty. Would you like that?”
I swallow. “Not particularly.”
“I mean,” Sirius muses. “If you think about it, they don’t even sound that similar. Sirius. Serious. Completely different.”
“Absolutely,” I agree, wishing I’d just kept my mouth shut (but also trying not to laugh).
“I don’t see why people have to bring it up every time they meet me for the first time. It’s not like I couldn’t make fun of their names, as I proved with the whole Farty thing.”
“Yes,” I nod, backing up fast. “You’re completely right. Forget I said anything.”
“The only similarity, really,” he continues, ignoring me completely, “is that they both begin with the letter ‘S’ and end in ‘U-S’.”
“And they have three syllables and the intonation only has one subtle difference,” I fill in. Oh, damn it. Way to keep my mouth shut.
“Look.” Sirius is frowning. “It’s not my fault, okay? It was my parents. It’s a family name! There have been Siriuses-es-es,” he deliberately stumbles over the pronunciation of the plural, but carries on regardless, “for centuries. Really, if you mock my name, you’re mocking my heritage.”
“Right,” I say, trying very hard not to laugh. “Sorry, Sirius. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“And like I said. They’re basically completely different words. Sure, if a kid under the age of three mixes them up, that’s understandable, but for mature people ages four and up, it’s completely unnaccep�“”
“Is Sirius giving the Sirius vs Serious talk again?” asks Remus, appearing at my side out of the classroom doors. “Just tell him he’s seriously messed up for having such serious issues over something as simple and un-serious as a name and should have some serious therapy if he feels so seriously upset about it. That usually leaves him spluttering for long enough to make your getaway.”
Sirius looks disgruntled. “Says the one named after a twin raised by wolves. Nice little coincidence that was, wasn’t it?”
Remus and Sirius begin bickering and start to walk away from me in the direction of the Great Hall, seemingly forgetting I exist as they fight over whose name is more stupid.
I take out my notebook and write, At least 50% of the Marauder population have unresolved issues surrounding their birth names. I shall be doing research into the other 50% shortly, although surely James and Peter sound relatively normal? But perhaps it is in the normality that their insecurities lie. And then I follow them to dinner.
Ah, it’s good to be back.
[Remus]
I never would have expected how great it is to have Marty back with us. I don’t know why she hated us for all that time and then randomly changed her mind and I don’t really care; it’s just great to have her around. She subtly told those dunderheads ‘The Maraudering Four’ that she felt their talents lay somewhere outside of sponsorship-and-spokesperson-ism and officially reinstated us into our original roles. On Saturday, in just two days, she is holding a protest outside Eugene Cardrac’s house and we will be there to bring in the crowds (in her words, at least. Personally, I don’t see why anyone would come because of us, especially since she seems to be doing fine by herself, but she keeps insisting that every little thing helps. I don’t want to argue. Like I said, I’m just happy she’s back with us).
And if the whole experience of her randomly hating us has taught us anything, it’s not to get into conflicts too easily. In fact, we’ve shown an awful lot of self-restraint recently. Seeing how hurt she got over what happened really seemed to show us the consequences of our actions and even Sirius doesn’t seem to be as sharp tongued as he used to be (so far, at least). I guess we never realised before that sometimes people might actually be offended by things we say. And we certainly never realised how bad we would feel if someone got so offended that they never spoke to us again. I’m telling you, that was a close call. All in all, I think we’ve learned our lesson ... well, mostly. Some of us will never fully learn our lesson, but there you go.
It’s a Thursday evening, so it’s pretty quiet. We are planning the final, uh, plan, for the protest on Saturday. Apparently that’s when a load of Ministry officials are coming to assess ... something. Marty seems to know the details and keeps explaining them (and why they are such an injustice) at great length, while we sit here bemusedly and try to keep up. As far as I know, we’re just going to turn up on Saturday and hold some signs and possibly do some chanting or something.
Marty leans back for a moment thoughtfully. “So if the protest starts at one o’clock ... we’ll have to get there at about half past twelve to organise anybody who decides to come early and to hand out signs and figure out how many people are going to be there ... but what do we do before that?”
Sirius shrugs. “I dunno. Normal Hogsmeade stuff, I guess.”
“I hear Zonko’s has a sale on,” Peter informs us. I inwardly groan.
“Really?” James perks up, happy to finally be able to understand what’s going on. “You know, I am running low on supplies. And we should really start planning what we’re going to do for Hallowe’en.”
“Yeah, good point. It will be harmless, of course,” Sirius says, surreptitiously glancing at Marty. At least, he probably thinks he’s being surreptitious.
“You know,” I say, thinking that Sirius, James and Peter probably want some time away from Marty to plan their next act of trouble making. “You could always come with me, Marty, rather than trailing round after these guys in a Zonko’s sale.”
Marty looks over at me. “Don’t you want to go trailing around in a Zonko’s sale?”
She must be crazy. And watch those three idiots have kittens over every new product that’s been released? I’d be glad to keep her away for a while, even if it means having to answer questions on weird things like what my favourite kind of breakfast is.
“I’ll be okay to miss it just this once,” I say out loud. “I can give you the Marauder’s tour of Hogsmeade. It’ll be very exciting.”
“As long as you don’t go giving her something else, as well,” Sirius mutters, while James and Peter snigger into their hands.
“What else would he give me?” asks Marty and I genuinely don’t think she knows.
“Nothing,” I say. “They’re just being immature. It’ll be fine, we’ll have fun.”
“I bet you will,” James says and they start sniggering again. For goodness sake, just how old are they?
“Yeah. Well. Is Luanne coming to the protest on Saturday, James?” I ask, to change the subject. He nods.
“Of course. I’m always trying to take her to new places, to enrich her education. Not all learning is from books, you know. I’m planning on taking her fishing one of these days, but for now we’ll have to settle with some nice, peaceful picketing and voicing of our opinions, insufferable youths that we are, with nothing better to do than harass Ministry officials.”
“We won’t be harassing them,” Marty points out. “We’ll just be telling them that we think their decisions are completely atrocious and that by destroying our heritage, they are destroying are history and if we can’t learn from our history ...”
She is off again. There is a collective sigh as we settle back in our seats, now that a conversation we can actually understand and take part in is over.
Ah, it’s good to have her back.
[Marty]
I spend Friday evening sitting with Lily in the dorm. She is reorganising her sock drawer, for reasons I can’t quite fathom, but I have decided to keep her company, while I paint some signs for tomorrow. She’s still my friend, after all, even though I did patch things up with the Marauders.
“So you’re all set for Saturday, then?” I ask.
“Yes, Marty, for the last time. I’ll be there, don’t worry. I’ll even bring Mary and Roxie and maybe even Phyll with me, okay? It’ll be great. One o’clock, right?”
I nod. “Yeah. Though you might want to get there a little earlier, because I’ll need to hand signs out and things. Me and Remus are going to turn up at about half past twelve, but you won’t have to be that early.”
Lily looks round for a moment. “You and Remus? What about the others?”
I shrug, as I carefully paint the third ‘a’ in ‘intolerable apathy’. “Well, there’s a sale at Zonko’s so we’re meeting them outside the house later on. They’re supposed to get there at half past as well, but let’s be honest. They’ll probably be late. I’ll make sure me and Remus are there on time, though.”
“So you’re spending your Hogsmeade trip just you and Remus Lupin?” she asks, in a weird voice. Like she knows something I don’t. Or like she’s implying something I don’t understand.
“No,” I say. “I’m spending my Hogsmeade morning just me and Remus Lupin. Why?”
“I didn’t know you guys were close,” she says in what I can only describe as a sing-song voice. Why is she speaking like that? What’s so special about two friends going to visit Hogsmeade together?
“Yes you did,” I point out. “I spent the summer at his house, remember?”
“Uh huh,” Lily says, folding socks with a look on her face which suggests she is merely humouring me. But why would she do that? Remus and I are just friends. It’s not like anyone would ever think we’re more than that, is it? Why would any boy ever like me in that way? I’m Marty Price. I know what they think of me. How many times did I try and speak to a boy, even just to explain a Cause to him, or get him to sign a petition, only to have him pretend he doesn’t understand English, or suddenly remember that he left his phoenix on fire? If Lily thinks we’re anything more than good friends she’s kidding herself.
“What?” I demand. “I hope you don’t think Remus’s intentions are anything more than they actually are.”
“I don’t know,” she says. “What are his intentions?”
“To show me round Hogsmeade so that the other three can buy the preparations for their Hallowe’en prank without me there to try to stop them!” I cry. After all, I’m not stupid. I know exactly what they’re planning to do when I’m not around.
Unless ... what if Remus asked me on a date yesterday and I never even realised? What if he really does want to get me on his own so he can ... so he can have his way with me or something? So he can make his move? What if it’s all a horribly elaborate plot to trick me into a false sense of security with this ‘just friends’ thing and then woo me or something? Not that there’s anything wrong with Remus. It’s not like I would hold his being a werewolf against him. I wouldn’t want to be wooed by ANY of the Marauders. I’m just not that kind of girl. I have nothing to do with romance and romance has nothing to do with me. It’s a little arrangement we set up over the years, romance and I. We avoid each other like the plague. That’s just the way things are. Surely Remus knows that, right? Surely he knows I’m not the kind of girl you take on a date? What was he thinking, asking me out like that? No wonder the other three kept sniggering! I thought they were just being themselves, when really they were making innuendos that I only just figured out this minute!
I can’t believe I got asked out on �“ and accepted �“ a date without even realising it. This is so typical of me. And now I can’t even get out of it. I can’t randomly change my plans, or have a family commitment I can’t get out of or anything, because I already agreed I’d go with him.
“Marty?” Lily asks. “Are you okay? You know I was kidding, right? I know you’re just friends. I was messing with you.”
“I don’t feel too well,” I croak out. And I don’t. I haven’t been feeling 100% healthy all day, actually, but I was putting it off until now. Until I realised what an idiot I am. Now it’s all catching up with me.
“Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing? Not too well, how? A lot of the first years have been ill lately, could you have what they have? Marty, I was joking with the Remus thing, don’t look so terrified!”
But it’s okay for her to say that now! She’s not the one who accidentally accepted a marriage proposal without even realising it. Okay, not exactly. But kind of. She may only have been joking, but her humour and satire achieved only to uncover the truth! This is horrible!
And my head hurts. I really don’t feel so good.
[Remus]
Somehow �“ even though I know there’s nothing to be afraid of, it’s only Marty, after all �“ I manage to make myself nervous about spending Hogsmeade morning alone with her. I don’t even know why I’m this nervous. I’ve been alone with her plenty of times before. She lived at my house for the majority of the summer, after all. But then it was like living with a sister I never knew I had. Now, I don’t know what it’s like. Those stupid comments the others kept making when I first suggested it keep coming back to haunt me. Not that I’d ‘give her’ something. Not we’d ‘have fun’. I’m not that immature. Just the idea of us being anything more than friends ... it could happen, of course. I mean, why not? We’re two teenagers of the opposite sex, good friends and walking round a picturesque little village together. The odds are that anything could happen.
Only ... Marty? Marty Price? It’s crazy. The very idea. It’s just not the done thing. And even if it was, we can’t exactly get past the fact that I become a raving bloodthirsty dangerous monster once a month. That alone would kind of hold back any relationship I would hope to form in the future. It’s madness. Pure madness. Not only that, but she has this thing about pumpkin juice, where she refuses to drink it because of some forgotten campaign her mother was part of. She even protests about using pumpkins during Hallowe’en. Why would I feel something about someone like that?
But for some reason, the idea won’t leave me alone.
“You all right, Moony?” Peter asks over breakfast. “You look a little uneasy.”
“You wouldn’t be the only one,” Marty mutters. “I swear I’m ill somehow. Ever since I realised ... I mean, ever since I spoke to Lily about ... ever since I spoke to Lily yesterday and before that, I’ve just not felt right. I blame first years.” She is drinking water, not pumpkin juice. For some reason this bothers me a lot more than usual. Why did I never notice how weird that thing with the pumpkin juice was before now?
“You’re not going to be sick on me, are you?” Sirius asks worriedly, since he is sitting opposite her. Now that she mentions it, she doesn’t look too great. It’s probably all those pumpkin vitamins she’s been missing out on. How is water supposed to be any good for you?
“I don’t think so,” she says. “But I’ll warn you if I am.”
Sirius doesn’t look comforted.
“Come on,” I say, standing up. “If neither of us are eating anything, we might as well go now.”
“Okay. Just wait here, though, I left some stuff in the dorm ...” she stands and leaves quickly, occasionally putting her hand out to steady herself.
“Poor love,” James says as he shakes his head. “Remind me not to let Luanne too near, I don’t want her catching something.”
“James!” I reprimand him. “That’s your friend you’re talking about, not a disease bank.”
“So? I have to look out for my own. Lighten up, Moony.”
“Yeah, why are you so nervous today, Moony?” Peter asks. “You aren’t worried you’re going to catch something, too, are you?”
“Of course not,” I say. “And I’m not nervous, either.”
“Yeah, right,” Sirius chuckles. “And I’m not Merlin’s gift to women.”
“Exactly,” I say. “You’re more like ... Merlin’s gift to sea creatures. Just like I’m not nervous, I’m ... apprehensive.”
“Apprehensive about what? You’re afraid Marty’s going to jump out and eat you while you’re showing her a romantic secluded corner of Hogsmeade that’s conveniently deserted?” James suggests.
Sirius grins wickedly. “Of course not, she’s far too polite. What Moony is afraid of, chaps, is that he will jump out and eat her while he’s showing her a romantic secluded corner of Hogsmeade that’s conveniently deserted.”
“No I’m not,” I insist, whilst making a mental note to avoid any deserted corners that could be interpreted as romantic and/or secluded. “I have a remarkable amount of self-control, thank you very much. No one will be eating anybody. Also, well done for being graphically weird and cannibalistic, guys. If that’s what you do while you’re on a date with a girl, then I’m very glad I’m missing out on it all.”
“A remarkable amount of self-control, eh?” Sirius grins, perfectly happy to be winding me up this way. “Interesting. So you won’t be jumping out and eating her, you’ll just be thinking about it. I see how it is.”
“I’m not eating anybody!” I practically yell. “We’re just two friends, having a nice walk around Hogsmeade. To save you guys from having to be careful about what you buy from Zonko’s, may I remind you. I don’t appreciate your level of gratitude.”
“Oooh,” James teases. “He doesn’t appreciate your level of gratitude, Padfoot. Well, you must be scared. I’d apologise good and quick, if I were you, or he might try and eat you. You know what weird fantasies these cannibals have when they get angry or ... frustrated.” He waggles his eyebrows and then joins Sirius and Peter in their howling laughter.
“Shut up,” I tell them, but even I cannot help but laugh a little. I consider trying to prove my innocence by pointing out how weird I find the pumpkin juice thing all of a sudden, but they wouldn’t understand. A couple of minutes later, Marty arrives back, carrying three or four wooden signs with messages that no one but she understands, such as “The Youth of Today Protect the Generation of Yesterday!” and “Listen to the Past, You Might Learn About the Future!”
Whatever that’s supposed to mean. I offer to carry them for her.
“Thanks,” she says. “We can duplicate them later, when we hand them out.”
“Good idea,” I say, nodding. “Are you sure you’re okay to go? You’re not going to pass out in the middle of the chanting or anything?”
She shakes her head. “I’ll be fine. See you later, guys,” she says to the other three. “Half past twelve, remember?”
They nod. “How could we forget?” Peter says and smiles.
We make our way out towards Hogsmeade and I talk to Marty about various things. Nothing particularly important. I don’t think I’m the only one who is nervous about this thing. She’s trying not to show it, but it seems like Marty is a little uncomfortable, too. Though maybe she’s just ill. Still, every time there is a lull in the conversation, the silences seem so much more awkward now that the thought has crossed my mind the she may be more than just a friend. Despite the pumpkin juice thing. Even if it was only the thought. Because as much as I make excuses about her beverage preferences, the thought is still there, which it never was before.
But I manage to quash those thoughts and take her around Hogsmeade perfectly normally, showing her various places where things of note have happened to us over the years.
Like the spot where Madam Rosmerta kicked us out of The Three Broomsticks when it turned out James had forgotten to bring any money and we all thought he was paying (we settled our debt the next time we were there, however and have been on very good terms with the landlady ever since).
And the place outside Madam Puddifoots, where we once pelted the Head Boy and Girl with snowballs under James’s invisibility cloak, because they had given us detention one time when we walked in on them, uh ... not doing their duties.
And the spot near the Shrieking Shack where we once had a four-on-four duel with Snape and three of his stupid friends and then Lily found out and single-handedly incapacitated all eight of us with just three carefully placed spells.
And so on.
All of this, Marty records in her notebook, asking questions, laughing and scribbling down notes. It’s fun, despite the occasional moments of awkwardness between us here and there. And I make doubly sure we’re never in any secluded corners. Not that I don’t trust my self-control, or think I’m going to eat her or anything, because that would be insane. But just to be sure. You can never be too sure, after all.
With just fifteen minutes to go, I take her to the stile right at the end of the village. There are only one or two other people around, but I decide it will be safe enough. A stile doesn’t count as romantic and secluded, does it? Romantic, maybe. Weren’t they nicknamed kissing stiles or something? But not secluded. Much.
I’ll just make sure we don’t stay long.
“So what’s here?” she asks as she sits on the fence. “What trouble did you get into here?”
“No trouble,” I say shrugging. “But see that cottage? There’s a really nice lady who lives there. We help her out sometimes with odd jobs and she gives us cookies that she baked herself. Yeah, we like it there.”
She laughs. “I bet you do. So, what, you just went round one day and she offered to pay you in cookies if you put some shelves up?”
I shrug. “Pretty much, yeah. She might be in now, if you want to say hello.”
She looks at her watch. “Another time, maybe. We need to get to Eugene Cardrac’s house, now, for the protest. Have you got the signs?”
I nod and pick them up. “Right here. Come on, then, you campaigner for a better world, you.”
I kind of feel a little disappointed that our time is up, even despite the nervousness and the slight awkwardness. The truth is, friend, sister, or something more, no matter how I consider Marty, I just can’t help but enjoy her company. We just click. I can’t help it.
“Uh,” I pause. “Uh, where is Eugene Cardrac’s house, exactly?”
Marty smiles. “This way. Follow me.”
I sigh, not really knowing what to expect out of this protest, no matter how many times she’s explained it to us. Because I don’t think she was ever talking English those times.
Still. It will be fun. As long as I’m with Marty, it will be fun.
And I try not to think about what that actually means.
AN: I’ll continue the rest of their Hogsmeade trip, next chapter. I think I’ve been spending too much time with sixteen year old boys, because there was a bit more innuendo that I would usually do in that chapter ... but at least it’s accurate for boys their age, right? Don’t forget to leave a review!