James
I can feel tidbits of memories, tiny flashes of hiding moments, are flickering in my mind.
Her hand on my chest.
Our faces inches apart.
Holy crap, what?
I squint, and try to focus my mind on that moment, that precise moment...
I see myself say, 'Lumos.'
There's nothing. Everything's all out of order. I sigh and rearrange my limbs on the common room couch.
Did we kiss? Did anything happen? I mean, it's a broom cupboard, those are notorius for romance.
Again, I squint, and try to focus on the memory... nothing happens.
I'm so frustrated.
"Padfoot?" I call. Sirius sticks his head out of the dorm, his silky, jet-black hair in his face.
"What?"
"I'm leaving." I'm going to Dumbledore's office, I'm going to ask if I can use his pensive. He's mentioned it to me several times, and the memory is there all right, it's just not acessable to me.
"Okay...," he says, and returns to the dorm. I sit there for a second, processing what I'm going to do before I reach for my invisibility cloak, and wrap it around my shoulders.
I disappear beneath the shimmering folds of the cloth.
I run through the hallways, not even making an effort not to make any noise. People whirl around, and frantically search the hallways, terrified of whatever made the noise. It's so funny, I make a little extra noise sometimes just to see people's reaction.
I see couples kissing. I see studious first years doing their homework.
And I see Snivellus. I kick him, and make a run for it, still heading towards Dumbledore's office.
Finally, I get there; I knock on the smooth wooden door, and for a second, there's no answer.
Dumbledore's kind face and shining blue eyes peer through a crack in the door.
"James!" he exclaims, gesturing for me to come in, "To what do I owe this pleasure?" I smile at him, and step in, admiring the office. "Lemon drop?" he offers, pointing to a bowl full of yellow lemon-shaped candies. I shake my head.
I suddenly realize how stupid my request will sound. I want to use his extremely valuable magical object to find out if I kissed the girl that I like. How stupid does that sound?
"I... I was wondering sir... if I could use your pensive to help me remember this one thing-"
His office swirls with blues and greens; the drapes are swinging a little in the breeze of an open window, and the portraits of countless headmasters adorn the walls. Fawkes, the pheonix, is ablaze in feathers of oranges and firey reds.
"James. I've been meaning to speak with you, but it seems I haven't gotten around to doing so- here," he says, leading me over to the pensive, his shoes squeaking a little, "We'll watch your memory, then I'll show you mine. Some things are better seen than said." I nod.
Wait. Dumbledore can't see this memory, that would be far too embarassing for me.
"Uh, sir?" I say, he nods, "I would like to see this memory... alone? If that's possible?" Dumbledore nods, and steps away.
I press the smooth tip of my wand to my forehead, and I focus on the memory. I pull the wand away from my forehead, a white, glowing wisp following it. I set the wisp in the pool of pensive and brace myself to enter it.
