The Slytherin Transfer

28: "I guess some people never learn."

"What do you think of this whole dance thing?" I ask Sirius as we begin walking, "Marlene and Mary are pretty hell bent on making it happen."

He shrugs, "Might be fun."

I scoff, "What, a bunch of boys stressing over having to ask out a girl and then not even dancing with them when the time comes? Sounds like rubbish to me."

He smirks my way, speaking in a mock sympathetic voice, "It's okay, Cass. I'm sure someone will dance with you."

I scowl at him, "I wish I could say the same about you."

"Please." He grins, "We both know I'll have girls lining up left and right."

Sadly, this is true. My expression falls slightly before I roll my eyes, though not quickly enough that I'm sure he doesn't catch it. If he does, he doesn't say anything in reference, just speaking again.

"I just think that Mar wants something happy in all this shittyness," he says, and I quirk an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know Marlene," he says, forgetting that I really don't, "her parents are both Aurors that bring their work home. It makes things dark in her household. She probably just wants to lighten things up."

For a second, I forget that Marlene and Sirius have known each other for ages. I forget that they've been on and off for two years. Then I'm struck with how well they actually know each other. Last month, in the library, Marlene revealed to me how Sirius doesn't like showing his emotions, and now Sirius is telling me of Marlene's home life? I feel a slight longing, like I want what they have, but then I remember how they fight and insult one another, and I feel grateful that Sirius doesn't yell at me. He did once, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't terrify me.

So instead of being jealous, I feel empathetic for Marlene. In these times, everyone is on edge, and maybe she's right, and we all just need to let loose a little. My father is a Death Eater, a literal supporter of Voldemort, and I'll be lucky if I don't get dragged into it as well. My brother, though he tries to keep it a secret, can only do so much to prevent himself from getting into the Dark Arts. He's of age now, which means any day someone could show up at our door and recruit him. I'll be surprised if he makes it past this summer without a run-in with the Dark Lord himself.

"Maybe you're right," I say numbly after a moment.

"Of course I am, I'm always right," he says easily, and I scoff.

"Tell that to your Arithmancy test."

"It's not my fault all my answers were wrong," he defends himself with a grin and a shrug, "I was copying off of the kid in front of me."

We both laugh, and the atmosphere immediately becomes more lighthearted as we walk. I feel the fear of Hogsmeade slipping away, but when we start climbing upwards and eventually make it to the trap door, I find that my palms are sweaty. I try to ignore it, following Sirius into Honeydukes, where he stops me and begins tugging something out of his bag. It's a silvery cloak, with intricate designs woven into it.

"Is that . . ?" I trail off, and Sirius grins, nodding.

"James got it for Christmas," he says, swinging it around his shoulders, "think of everything we can get away with now."

I don't answer, too busy reaching out to touch Sirius's chest, which has vanished completely, revealing his head floating in the air. My hand still makes contact with solid torso, and I grin.

"Holy shit."

He snickers, tossing the cloak over both of our heads and beginning to ascend the stairs. I stay close to him so as to remain safely hidden, and as we travel up through the cash register and out of Honeydukes candy shop, I watch as no one even so much as glances our way. It's a nice difference to the constant staring. After we're in the clear, Sirius leads me around the corner of the shop and takes the Invisibility Cloak off.