Excentryke's Musings

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Lost Boy

Interlude II

Messieurs Moony, Wormtail, and Padfoot had created the Marauder’s Map their fifth year and it was firmly in Padfoot’s possession on Saturday, March 27^th.  Steph was acting a bit shifty, saying she had to meet one of the girls after lunch, and hadn’t even bothered to come down to the Great Hall.  As soon as the meal was over, he rushed up to his dorm and took out the map and saw that she was in the hallway outside of the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor and she wasn’t alone.  Hartwig Potter was there.

Jealousy surged up in his stomach.

He had half a mind to rush down there and stop them, but he knew he would never get there in time.

Padfoot watched as they spoke a few moments and then descended into the passageway leading into the cellar of Honeydukes.  They disappeared off the map.  He sighed and closed the map.

Hartwig Potter was nothing like James.

Not only did they look nothing alike, but their personalities couldn’t be more different.  James was open and laughter and bravery and fun.  They had been best of friends since they met on the Hogwarts Express.  Moony and Wormtail were just hangers on.  Hartwig Potter was closed in and calm and secretive and moody.  He never understood why Steph fancied him so much except for his wild hair and Quidditch toned muscles—but didn’t Padfoot have the same assets?

The problem was that Padfoot knew he only had Stephagenia’s attention because Hartwig didn’t want her.  He hadn’t won Steph; he was getting Hartwig’s rejects.

But he loved Steph.  He’d loved her for years.  She was the prettiest and the cleverest witch at Hogwarts.  Magic came to her so effortlessly and when she grasped a new spell, almost always on the first try, her laugh was carefree and light.  It always warmed Padfoot’s heart.

She belonged to him now.—but now she was sneaking out of the castle with Hartwig Potter and Padfoot couldn’t stand it.

He waited for hours for Stephagenia and Hartwig to show back up on the Hogwarts map.  He didn’t play wizard chess with Moony and he refused several games of exploding snap.  He also ignored his schoolwork, even though it was piling up.

At about half past four, they appeared at the edge of the map.  They stayed in the tunnel, talking for a good fifteen minutes, but then they emerged out into the hallway, talked for a few more minutes, before Hartwig went down to the dungeons and Steph came back up toward Gryffindor Tower.

Padfoot was waiting for her.

“You look lovely, Steph,” he greeted her when she came into the common room.  “Have fun?”

She looked more perturbed than pleased.  That was something at least.  Hopefully Hartwig Potter was going to make her cry again and Padfoot could be the shoulder she cried on.  It wasn’t the best scenario.  The best scenario was Padfoot beating Hartwig’s head in with a beater’s bat.

“I need to go get changed,” she told him quietly.  “I think I have dust in my hair.”

He looked at the twist in her hair.  Yes, yes, she did have dust in her hair.  “You might want to take a shower,” he suggested carefully.

“Hmm,” she sighed, touching his sleeve in affection.  She then swept up toward the girls’ dorm.

“What was that?” Moony asked, coming up and looking after her.

“She was meeting Hartwig Potter in secret,” Padfoot admitted.  “She went down the one-eyed witch tunnel and has dust in her hair.”

Moony grimaced.  “That’s not like our Steph.”

“No, decidedly not like our Steph,” Sirius agreed darkly.

He didn’t talk about it again to Stephagenia.  He did, however, bring it up to Hartwig Potter.  Finding the younger student between classes on Monday, he grabbed him by his robes and slammed him up against the wall.

“She can’t say I made her cry again!” Potter protested.  “It was decidedly not my intention!”

Then he did something that could make Steph cry, then, did he?

“Well, then, why did you do it?”

Potter, however, wasn’t speaking.  He was decidedly keeping his mouth shut, a look of determination on his face.

Padfoot just twisted his grip on him harder.  “Don’t even think about going for your wand,” he warned.  “Why did you make her cry?”

“I—I told her why you were a better man than me,” he begrudgingly said, something of a truth and something of a lie in his words.  “I gave her the definitive reason why it would never work.”

Padfoot loosened his grip slightly.  “And why would you need to do that?  You’ve moved on to Malfoy; she’s moved on to me.”

Potter gave him a look as if to say, “Do you really believe that?”  No, Padfoot didn’t suppose he did.

“And the robes?”

“Tea with my aunt,” Potter answered.  “Aunt Euphemia was just being polite.  She wanted to meet another Lost Boy.”

Yes, this Lost Boy nonsense.  As far as Padfoot was concerned, Stephagenia had always been a Black.  Everyone was just too stupid to realize it before.  She may look like a Prewett, but her heart was as Black as sin as far as he could tell.  Her black card only proved it.

He released Potter who coughed a bit as soon as he landed back on his feet.  “If that will be all?”

“For now.”

“You should just ask your girlfriend these questions.  Stop coming and threatening me all the time.”

“Oh but, Potter,” he whined in a sugary sweet tone, “where would be the fun in that?”

Potter looked up with hatred in his green eyes.  “You’re nothing but a bully, Black.  I hope Stephagenia realizes it soon enough and moves on to a better wizard.”

“But you already said I was the better wizard,” he parried back nastily.

Potter only glared at him, as if he were stupid.  Padfoot knew he was missing a key bit of information, but he didn’t have it and he had no way of extracting it from either Steph or Potter at the moment.  He would have to be content with this.

And so, with a sneer on his face, he left Potter leaning up against the stone wall, thinking of how great it would be when he could finally shag Stephagenia.