Vivicendium ➝ Sirius Black/OC

Facta non Verba

Chapter Fifty Six | Facta non Verba

[Deeds, not words]

Vivian Blair is a difficult person to talk to alone. To say that she has made herself scarce over the next few weeks would be an understatement, and it is only because James Potter happens to be in possession of the Marauder's Map that he is able to corner her during one of the few moments in which she is by herself.

Well, sort of.

"Ah...I've always loved the library," James sighs, sitting down at the table in which Vivian has occupied. "It's so dreary and eerily quiet, don't you think?" he wonders as he makes a show of getting several of his textbooks out. He noisily set his inkwell down and hums beneath his breath as he roots through his bag in search of a quill. When he doesn't find one, he frowns and turns to Vivian to loudly ask, "Can I borrow a quill, Pride?"

He would have to be a blind idiot not to see the way Vivian is looking at him with murder flashing through her eyes. Thankfully, though, James is neither blind nor an idiot (though he does occasionally pretend to be both, in situations such as these) and merely smiles at her expectantly. If he notices the way her eyebrow is twitching, well, he pretends not to.

"What do you want?" Vivian growls at him, when it's clear that he isn't going to leave until he accomplishes whatever it is he had set out to do. As for what, exactly, that is, she can only guess. One can never quite tell, with James Potter.

James blinks at her. "A quill, Pride, a quill," he repeats with a raised eyebrow, looking at her as if he thinks she's insane.

Vivian stares at him for a long moment, then shuts her book, leans forward, and hisses, "Stop pretending to be an idiot and tell me what you want."

James sighs at her, but drops the act and just murmurs, "Fine. I want to make sure you know not to talk about Moony's situation. And also to ask if you're alright, since you've been avoiding us and I haven't had the chance."

Vivian stares at him for another long moment before pursing her mouth. In a low voice, she responds, "I won't tell anyone about him. He's the only one in your lot that I have even the smallest amount of respect for."

There's something in the tone of her voice that has James pausing, studying her closely as he sits there. It's disparaging and bitter and it makes him feel as if he ought to say something, because she's obviously got quite a few things wrong. As the leader of the Marauders, James understands how important it is to ensure that all of his fellows, Official and Honorary alike, are in agreement with each other. Trust is essential when one is a pranking ne'er-do-well, you see, and Pride is clearly in a distrusting state.

"You know...Padfoot only wrote the first few poems as a prank," he tells her suddenly, catching her eye. "The rest were entirely genuine, though he would never have admitted it."

Vivian lifts her chin and drawls, "And...?"

James frowns. "And he's been miserable lately. He misses you."

She purses her lips again.

"Look, Pride – "

"Don't call me that."

" – Padfoot is too stubborn to tell you this himself, so it falls to me – "

"Even though it's none of your business."

" – to inform you that he's been going out of his mind and it's honestly driving me insane."

Vivian scoffs and mutters, "As if you weren't already." She gathers her half-written assignment and shoves it into her bag, intent on leaving before Potter can say anything else.