Chapter Eight: Pastimes
[Marty]
“So, what are you writing?” asks James and I jump.
“Um, just some notes,” I say quickly and shove the parchment and quill into my bag.
“What on?” James asks, obviously trying to be friendly. I’ll have to remember that, so I can note it down, later.
“Oh, nothing much,” I reply, smiling and wonder again what they would do if they found out the truth. I’d like to think they wouldn’t mind, but if there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s that they can be unpredictable.
“Um ... Marty ... I don’t know if you got our letter, but ...” Sirius falters, uncomfortably and for the first time, he doesn’t look quite at home any more.
“It’s okay,” I say gently. “Really. I forgive you. Thank you so much “ all of you “ for sending it to me. You were wrong, Remus. It’s the only letter I’ve got from anybody about what happened, so I’m really grateful.”
“The only “ but, surely ... it was really bad what happened to your Mum! And we’re the only ones who wrote?” Remus asks, looking appalled.
I shrug. “It’s not that surprising. It’s not like I have any proper friends who would care enough to write, is it?”
Everyone suddenly looks a lot more uncomfortable for some reason. I wonder why that is? It’s not like it’s their fault.
“Would you like a drink?” Remus asks, standing up suddenly and turning away from me, towards the door.
“Oh, I’m okay, really.”
“I’ll see what we’ve got,” he mutters, ignoring my answer and leaving without looking back.
“Is he okay?” I ask. I haven’t forgotten that he was my Secret Cause at the end of last year and I’ve not abandoned him, either.
“Yeah, he just feels guilty because you said you didn’t have any friends,” Peter explains, placidly. James glares at him.
“Moony was a bit ill yesterday, that’s all,” he says, while Peter mouths ‘what?’ at him, confused. “He’s probably just tired.”
“Oh,” I say and suddenly worry that I’ve somehow outstayed a welcome. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No!” Sirius cries, a little too suddenly. “That’s not what he meant ... it’s more ... uh ... how are the pixies?”
I blink at him for a moment and then realise that Remus is clearly not a topic that they want to discuss. Whoever said I was clueless? “They’re holding up,” I say a little overdramatically. “To be honest ... well ...” I wonder whether to voice what I’ve been thinking lately or not. “The thing is, I’m not sure they need me as much as I thought.”
Peter leans forward. “How come?”
“Well, it’s just ... what if there are worthier Causes? Like “ like You-Know-Who? After what happened, shouldn’t I be raising awareness about him instead of ... you know. The Plight of the Pixie.”
The three Marauders look stunned. “But “” James seems lost for words. “But “ if you’re not looking after them, who will?”
Sirius stares at his best mate incredulously. “You’re the one who kept going on about what a waste of time it was!” he accuses and I laugh a little.
James looks guilty. “Well, yeah, but ... I mean ... it’s weird. Thinking of Marty not protesting about some worthless “ I mean, uh, less heard of “ campaign just doesn’t seem right. You should stand up for what you believe in,” he adds, almost muttering now, so that I have to strain my ears to understand him; something tells me that he is only reluctantly saying what he is thinking. “And you shouldn’t let You-Know-Who change that.”
“Thanks, James. That’s really nice of you to say.” Since I sort of, accidentally, fell sobbing into Remus’s arms, the Marauders very graciously offered to let me come back to his house and hang out with them for a bit, presumably thinking it might be a distraction. The thought of spending time with the Marauders was indeed a distraction and I was quickly able to turn away from Taffy’s for the time being and go with them.
“Moony’s certainly taking his time ... Remus? Where are you? How long does it take to get a bloody drink?” Sirius yells, a little uncouthly.
“I’m coming,” Remus mutters, appearing in the door holding a tray of glasses and a large jug. Sirius begins to laugh.
“Here comes Moony the housewife,” he sniggers and James laughs too.
“There’s nothing funny about a tray of drinks,” I say in his defence, but he just shakes his head.
“Don’t listen to them, Marty, they’re just kidding around,” he says, avoiding my gaze.
“Well, that may be, but how long before it turns into something serious and you get permanent psychological scarring? Who knows how long you could be in therapy for, after something like this?” I say passionately, trying not to laugh at the worried look on James and Peter’s face. Sirius, however, has caught my eye and somehow seems to know that I’m not being altogether serious.
“You know what, Marty’s right,” he says, standing up. “It’s time we stopped this bullying nonsense. Remus John Lupin, remember that time when I dressed you up in a fairy costume for my own amusement?”
Remus glares at him, suspiciously. “I recall it,” he says warily.
“Well, I’m sorry. And remember that time I said that you’d be lucky if a monkey considered marrying you? I’m terribly sorry about that. And remember when I sort of, accidentally switched your toothpaste for green jelly? Well, it was a terrible thing for me to do and I hope you can forgive me.”
Now Remus is looking at Sirius sceptically, with one eyebrow raised. What sounds like five years worth of playful mockery is repeated to him and we spectators begin to laugh at the faux-sincerity of every single apology. Eventually, Sirius seems to be winding to a close.
“Oh and when I held your teddy bear ransom in first year and hung him out of the window? You have my word that it will never happen again. To be honest, Moony, I’m an all round disgraceful human being. But you’ve got to let it go! It was a joke! You can’t keep brooding over it in this way, you’ll only hurt yourself. It’s all about opening up, Moony and embracing your inner child. Can you do that Moony? Because it would make me so happy to see the child in you return.”
And then, without any warning, he flings his arms around a rather petrified Remus and doesn’t let go.
“Plus,” I say, grinning a little. “If you embrace your inner child, Remus, Sirius will find it much easier to steal your ice cream next time he gets hungry.”
And somehow “ through divine providence, surely “ the Marauders all begin to laugh along with me.
[Remus]
Somehow (I’m unsure exactly how it happened, to be honest) we ended up spending the day back at my place with Marty. We’d just been walking down Diagon Alley (not buying anything, as our letters haven’t arrived yet, just browsing and making our way towards the Quidditch Supplies shop, for James and Sirius’s benefit). Seeing Taffy’s closed like that, with all the flowers and bouquets out the front, brought a lump to my throat and even as we stared, transfixed for a moment, a woman with two young children knelt down and left her own wreath at the front of the blanket of flowers. Not wanting to linger, we hurried away into the Quidditch shop.
When we came out, with the mindset of finding the nearest bookshop (for my benefit, since us Marauders prize equality), I saw that someone else was now standing where we had been, staring at the poor, broken looking tea shop. And as I got closer, I realised it was Marty. Before I knew it, she was sobbing into my chest and James gallantly offered that she came back to mine. Which was a little upfront of him, come to think of it “ it’s my house, after all “ but I wasn’t going to complain and I thought it would be the perfect way to truly make amends for last year.
The thing is, I wasn’t expecting Marty to slot in so well with the rest of us. Soon after arriving, she was cracking jokes and laughing along with the others like they’d been friends forever. I am the only one who feels uncomfortable, or so it seems.
Currently, we’re in the garden again. No hide-and-seek, thankfully, but Marty is talking to the others about our various antics at school. She seems to be quite into the subject, despite not having taken any actual part in them herself. Although, I’ve noticed that sometimes she’ll go quiet and I guess that thoughts of her mother have crossed her mind, but then someone will say something and she brightens right up again.
Mostly, I’m just watching them. I’ve never entirely approved of some of the things they do, although I rarely say so and even though I see the humour, there is always a nagging conscience at the back of my mind about rule breaking.
“How do you remember so much about what we’ve done?” Peter asks her, a little unexpectedly. “You know more than I do!”
“Normally I’d make a hilarious jibe about your intelligence, Wormtail ... but I sort of agree,” James says, as Marty suddenly seems to be having some sort of internal conflict.
“Well ... I’ve always found you four really funny and interesting ... the idea came in third year, actually ...”
“What idea?” Sirius asks, suspiciously.
“Well. To write The Book. Your book.”
I look up. What did she just say? Write our book? We don’t have a book! Actually, that’s not true and I have a great many number of books, but why would Marty Price write one of those? They’re already written. That’s why I have them.
“Book?” repeats Sirius, sounding as confused as I am.
“Sort of like your life story. Only not your lives, your school years. You know ...” she looks a little helpless at our confusion. “Look at it this way. If there was a book of you four and what you get up to every day, what you do and say, wouldn’t it make fantastic reading?”
“Uh ... no. It would be pretty boring, actually,” James says.
“Don’t be ridiculous, it would be brilliant! So I’ve been taking observations.”
“Observations?” I ask, picturing a Muggle scientist watching rats running around a maze. “What kind of observations?”
She looks uncomfortable. “Just ... just the things you do. Or say. I just write down the interesting or funny things I notice. Eventually I’ll make some sort of ... uh ... character study from them all. You’ve probably seen me.”
“Wait. That notebook’s full of stuff about ... us?” I ask. “Can I see?”
She looks unsure. “Okay ... but I speak “ well, write “ as I find. I honestly really admire you guys.”
Okay, this is really unsettling. But I’m intrigued to know what sort of thing she’s “observed”. She hands me the notebook and starts playing with a strand of her hair, nervously. The others come up behind me and read over my shoulder. Some details about my house ... how I seem to be acting uncomfortable ... how the others all seem at ease ... she noticed all this? And wrote about it? This is possibly one of the strangest sensations of my life, reading about my house and myself from another person’s perspective. I feel my eyebrows go far, far up my forehead. Who would actually spend their time on this insanity?
“Wow. These are quite accurate.” Sirius sounds surprised. “So you take these sorts of notes all the time? Aren’t you busy with stuff? Petitions and whatever?” He seems more interested than disturbed, but he and James always have sported mildly inflated egos. He probably takes this obsessive stalking as some kind of twisted compliment. I’m not sure what I take it as.
“Well ... like I said earlier. It’s not like I have any real friends to take up my time.”
There she goes again. I wonder if she knows how awkward she can make people feel, or is she genuinely as naïve as she looks? No ... naïve’s not the word. Her Mum was just murdered for Merlin’s sake. Is there a word that can sum up Marty Price’s persona? I don’t think so.
“Well ... if you ever want to be distracted from any of your pastimes for a bit, you can always come to us. Right, guys?”
Peter nods enthusiastically. James looks unsure but agrees anyway. I have no choice but to smile and nod my head. Only ... I’m not sure I want her finding out about me. The truth, I mean. She’s nice enough, but to be honest, the less people that know my condition, the better.
“You mean to make observations?” Marty asks. You know, I think she really is as ... Marty-ish as she seems. I don’t think it is an act.
“Uh, yeah ...” James says, smiling a little. “Or as a mate. Or something.”
She blinks. “A mate? Your mate?”
Peter laughs, nervously. “I think that’s the general idea ... right?” he looks at James and Sirius, who nod. There is silence for a moment.
Then, Marty flings herself in between James and Sirius, dragging them into a hug which surprises (but I don’t think displeases) them. She lets go after barely a second and embraces Peter, too. Then she turns to me.
“Thank you,” she says and looks positively radiant at the thought of actually being considered someone’s mate (no matter how loosely the term was used). And suddenly, she has thrown herself at me too and I barely have time to hesitantly pat her on the back, before she is away again, diving into her bag. What’s she doing now? This is Marty Price, after all. She might and make us do an unbreakable vow or something scary like that. I wouldn’t exactly put it past her. Instead, she pulls out a quill and some ink, then holds out her hand towards me. I’m confused.
“What?” I ask, blinking.
“Would you mind? It’s just that I’ve taken so many mental notes this past hour, I should really turn them into real ones before I forget them again.”
I look down. Her notebook is still in my hands. “Oh. Right. Of course.”
And I hand the thing which contains such mystery back to its owner.
[Marty]
The day has shot by. So much has happened! They asked me “ me “ to be their mate. We had so much fun in Remus’s garden, although Remus himself remained a little distant. It was great to actually talk to them about whatever came to mind, because I kind of idolise them a little bit.
And now, as the sun begins to set, I wish that I never have to go back to Garfield’s place. What is there to do there, apart from brood over Mum? Even helping Aunt Tabby clean is a solitary pastime and I’ll be left with my thoughts. I’m still horribly upset about Mum, of course. Every time there was a silence, it would suddenly wash over me that she’s gone. But the thing is, there haven’t been many silences. In Garfield’s crumbling old cottage ... the place is drowning in them.
“We should be getting back,” says James when he reaches the living room and checks his watch. “Mum’ll have dinner ready soon, Padfoot.”
Sirius inhales deeply, as if he can smell it already. “Glad you’re okay after yesterday, Moony and that you survived the relatives, Wormtail. Marty ... you take care of yourself, yeah? It’s been fun talking to you.”
“Yes. You too. Although, I don’t really want to go back there ...” I told them where we are staying and they agreed at the time that it wouldn’t do much good to wallow there all summer. I take a deep breath and gather all my Gryffindor strength. I was sorted in there for a reason and by Merlin and I’m not going to let Godric down now. “Actually, Remus, I couldn’t ... um ... I couldn’t stay with you, could I? For a bit?”
“What, for dinner? I could always ask my Mum if you’d really like ...”
“Yeah, please, or ... or maybe for a few days?”
[Remus]
Wait a moment. Marty “ Martina Price, Gryffindor’s resident nutter “ just asked if she could what? Stay at my house for a few days? Blimey. It’s like a bizarre dream. One of those ones you know is a dream, but feels real? Only the opposite.
She must see the surprise and uncertainty on my face, because she turns away and mutters, “Of course not, I’m being stupid. Sorry, Remus.”
And, inexplicably, my heart breaks. She just looks so fragile ... I remember suddenly all that she’s been through in the last couple of days and I cannot stand to see the open heartbreak reflected in her face. What harm would a few days do?
“Of course you can stay. I’m sure my parents won’t mind, once they realise who you are. My Mum loves that café.”
She looks up towards me, eyes round and hopeful. “Really?”
I sigh, but all reason has been abandoned at the sight of those sad, pleading eyes. “Of course. They’ll love having someone in a worse off state even than me. Besides ... I wouldn’t want to think of you alone in that house at a time like this. Just a few days.”
“Oh, thank you, Remus. You’re so kind.”
Over her shoulder, my three friends look amazed, but shrug.
“We’ll leave you two to it, then,” James says, shrugging, before stepping into the fire and zooming away.
“Yeah, have fun,” Sirius says, following him.
Peter smiles and nods, then gives a little wave. “See ya.” And he, too, disappears home.
Sweet Merlin. What have I done?
AN: Aww ... sweet. Please leave a review! I’ll love you for it! Story’s starting to almost make sense, now, huh? A little? Maybe? No? Oh well ... =D Thanks for reading!