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pleaseleavemetowrite · 4 years ago

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Potions Class | Sirius Black

reader has she/her pronouns but there's nothing that explicitly states the reader's gender apart from that. Also this is my first Marauders era fic so please give me feedback and stuff!

Requested: yes/no

requests are open!

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Summary: In which Sirius unintentionally falls for a half-blood he met during potions class.

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(Y/n) will never forget the day she became friends with Sirius Black. It was their fifth year and (Y/n) knew who Sirius and the rest of the Marauders were, they were practically unavoidable but it's only highlighted when you're in Gryffindor. However, just because everyone knew them, this doesn't mean they really knew anyone besides who they chose to. So, when Slughorn practically insisted on assigning partners for a potions project, (Y/n) and Sirius finally became (formally) introduced.

(Y/n) could practically feel the mild level of annoyance in the air around them and Sirius, she wasn't sure if she should be offended or not. It seemed to feel like she was unable to tell if it was being paired up with her or being assigned a partner in general that bothered Sirius. But, (Y/n) wasn't one to pry and just left him to do his thing while she read over the potion instructions. Once she finished, she finally made an attempt to talk to Sirius.

"Hey, can you go get this list of ingredients while I prep the cauldron, the quicker we get this done, the quicker you can go back to ignoring my existence." Her tone came off as more passive-aggressive then intended when they passed Sirius the small list of ingredients she had written out. But it seemed to work as he wordlessly took the list and left (Y/n) alone to relax her shoulders and gently roll them back before preparing the cauldron. And before she knew it, he was back. He seemed less annoyed then before but not happy either, it was a neutral medium of indifference but (Y/n) couldn't really blame him, she wasn't exactly thrilled to find out she had to work with Sirius.

(Y/n) began the process of chopping, crushing and measuring the ingredients for the potion when Sirius spoke up. "So...you come here often?" (Y/n) had an expression of mild amusement as she gave him a look to say really? Sirius lightly shook his head laughing, "Well what do you want me to say? We don't exactly know each other" (Y/n) breathed out a laugh as she replied, "Maybe not "you come here often" when we are literally in a classroom." Her tone was light-hearted as the potion suddenly became irrelevant. Sirius seemed to share the same idea as he slightly moved closer to (Y/n), leaning on the worktop. "So, tell me about yourself." He sounded genuinely interested, and while (Y/n) knew of his reputation she couldn't help but begin to tell him anything and everything that came to mind.

She told him all about her muggle friends at home, how hard it is to tell them that she isn't ignoring them she just goes to a "strict boarding school." and how her mum used to always take her to park after Primary School if she had been good, since she seemed to always "accidently" cause trouble by making a mess or being somewhere she wasn't allowed to because she couldn't control her magic yet. She told him about the book her aunt would read to her about a puddle duck named Jemima. and although (Y/n) was sure Sirius had stopped listening long ago, he hadn't. He hung onto every word of every story. In return, he would tell her stories about the backstories and reasoning of some of their most infamous pranks around school, and about some of James' more outlandish ways of confessing to Lily.

Before either of them knew it, the lesson was almost over, and Slughorn was assessing their potions. Suddenly, all their laughter ceased as they locked eyes and just began throwing random things into the cauldron and stirring it in hopes of something. However, it seemed like this wasn't the best idea as the concoction before them exploded right as Slughorn walked over. Successfully earning themselves detentions of organising the store rooms and cleaning the classroom for a few days. But neither of them could contain their laughter as their stupid idea literally blew up in their faces. In her laughter, (Y/n) tripped over her own robes and fell onto Sirius, who luckily caught her, but it only made them both laugh harder. Slughorn was fed up and dismissed them early so they could, "compose themselves." (Y/n) caught her breath and adjusted her robes as Sirius asked, "Where have you been all my life?" (Y/n) responded sarcastically, "What literally or...? Because if so up until 1st year I was in the muggle world. and past then, I was literally right in front of you." Sirius lightly rolled his eyes at her response.

"This was our last lesson, so do you want to walk back to the common room?" Sirius asked her, (Y/n) agreed. The pair made light conversation, exchanging stories and joking. Until they reached the common room as they realised they had to part and go to their respective friendship groups, with Sirius obviously with James, Remus and Peter and (Y/n) with Lily, Alice and Dorcas. It would be strange for Sirius to join (Y/n) and (Y/n) wasn't going to just leave her friends the second someone else gives her attention. The pair settled on just saying they would see each other later at dinner. But before they parted Sirius asked, "If your Evans' friend, how come I hardly knew you." "Because you only knew me as "Evans' friend"." (Y/n) then proceeded to give Sirius one last smile before Alice walked in and (Y/n) left with her. Leaving Sirius to think over what she had said.

The worst part was the longer he thought about it, the more he realised she was right, he had never thought to think past her being friends with Lily.

The thought stayed on the back of Sirius' mind as he went about his afternoon and early evening as he would on any ordinary day. After they had both finished, Sirius and (Y/n) walked down to the dungeons to organise the stores rooms as Slughorn had ordered them to. The walk was quiet and (Y/n) was growing uncomfortable with it and spoke up, "Hey, about earlier. What I said was rude and-" "What are you talking about, you were right." Sirius cut off and paused before continuing, "I won't lie what you said did bother me, but not because it was rude. It's because you were right. I never did think to look past the fact you're Evans' friend. I did the others and I just assumed you were like them, and no offence to them but they aren't really my type of people and-" "Sirius it's fine, I get it, really. I would be a hypocrite if I said I had never only saw you as what your reputation made you out to be." The both were now stuck in a limbo where neither of them had an issue with other but neither had anything to say.

So they laughed, they laughed all the way down to the store room. "What are we laughing about?" "The fact that we were both wrong." Their laughter died down as they entered the store room. "What a tip! No wonder it needs cleaning, no one's even thought about organising anything since 1896." (Y/n) sounded annoyed and almost astounded about how disorganised the room was and wondered how Slughorn even found anything they needed for lessons.

Sirius seemed amused by (Y/n) apparent distress at the state of the room and threw his arm around her shoulders and said in a teasing tone, "You were around in 1896 well you don't look a day over 50." (Y/n) rolled her eyes but didn't remove his arm. It was almost comforting to smell his cologne and how it mixed with smell of firewood that followed him and the dust in the air. Sirius also made no attempt to remove his arm as he could smell the lingering tones of her perfume and the muggle bubble-gum she had showed him earlier.

"Well you two better get to work you have a lot to do." The pair were snapped out of their daydreams by Slughorn suddenly entering and upon seeing the position they were in, he gave Sirius the task of bringing the boxes of the highest shelf and (Y/n) to begin to organise the ones on the bottom shelf. This seemed like an attempt to physically separate the two.

The first ten minuets were productive, mainly because they didn't want Slughorn to walk in again and deem that they weren't working hard enough. But all it took was Sirius either accidently or purposely nearly dropping a box of ingredients to make the pair start talking and joking around again. As the monotonous and tiresome work progressed, the two were becoming increasingly aware of how much they really did enjoy each other's company, even if they were in a somewhat cramped and definitely dusty potions store room.

It past curfew when they had finished so they didn't dawdle in the halls, as much as Sirius could probably get away with it, neither of them were willing to risk it after the mind-numbing task they had of alphabetising the store room. Once they reached the common room, they both collapsed onto the sofa as their exhaustion set in. "At least it's only cleaning for our next few, and not that. " (Y/n) tried to joke but her eyes were dropping by the second, Sirius seemed to notice this, "At least go to bed before falling asleep, these sofas aren't comfortable enough to sleep on, trust me." (Y/n) weakly nodded and muttered a small goodnight to Sirius as she borderline dragged herself up the stairs to her dorm.

In the following weeks, (Y/n) and Sirius spent more and more time together, not just in detention or class but outside of class as well. Somewhere along the way, their feelings for each other had manifested into something more. The lingering eye contact felt more intimate and when their hands brushed it felt like butterflies had swarmed into their vicinity and sent nerves down their backs. Although, it was obvious to everyone but them that they liked each other as something more, they were both adamant that their feelings were not reciprocated.

It wasn't until their final detention together that their friends decided enough was enough and took matters into their own hands, as it seems they had also grown closer based on their shared feelings of frustration of their respective friend's obliviousness. Lily and Remus worked together to quickly had Amortentia brewed quickly enough so that it would be in the potions room and James used his cloak to hide in the hallway while Alice and Dorcas distracted Slughorn long enough for him to not notice James tampering with the lock on the door.

(Y/n) and Sirius entered the room and closed the door, and that signified the success of their friend's plans. They both started with the first part of the routine they had curated for themselves from previous detentions. They began with clearing the desks, cleaning off any mess made, putting away the equipment used and then making their way to the unfinished potions at the back. The routine was simple but effective since they couldn't use magic to speed any of the process up. They went about the routine like they had all the previous sessions, making jokes and just talking.

Until they reached the potions and (Y/n) suddenly began to smell Sirius' cologne, it was unmissable for her, it reminded her of the boy she had unintentionally fallen for. But then the smell began to mix with the smell of butterbeer and the common room. "Really Sirius? Did you have to spray your cologne now? It's so bloody strong." Then without missing a beat, Sirius responded, "Says you I can smell your perfume from here, and that gum you keep complaining about because your mum won't send you more."

There was a silence that weighed in the air, as both of them were processing what this meant. Then it simultaneously dawned on them, Amortentia. Without any hesitation, they met in the middle of the room and pressed their lips together. The kiss was gentle but passionate, it release all the longing and yearning they had been holding for so long.

They then broke away from each other and smiled, relieved that they no longer had to hold the dread of fearing rejection.

"Sirius?" "Yeah?" "The quicker we get this done, the quicker you can go back to ignoring my existence." Sirius smiled upon hearing the passive-aggressive statement before replying, "You can't get away from me that easily, love."

#sirius orion black #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius x y/n #sirius x you #sirius imagine #maraduers

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fixeddawn · 4 years ago

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Boy do I love this blog so, so much.

Was there a New Moon in the AU? Or did Bella put a stop to that nonsense immediately.

(Spoilers for the story Clotho (The Moirai Saga) ahead, beware!)

Edward: "Okay so what had happened was-"

-Bella and Alice appear, shoving him out of the way with a squeak-

Alice: "GURL YOU KNOW HE'S STILL AN IDIOT."

Bella: "I- ugh, I tore him a new asshole when he told me he didn't actually love me, and he got me FUCKED up, but he still left. It was rough, especially when my powers started acting up and I started having panic attacks and meltdowns. The wolf pack over here is a bunch of different families, all somewhat Irish, they're descendants of the people of Ossory. Jakes grand-dad immigrated here in the 60's. Actually, OI, JACOB-"

-Jacob shoves into the room, but knocks his head on the doorframe on the way in.-

Jake: "FUCK. Finally man, the Boyz can talk!

Bella: "Eagan (Embry) Got you saying that now too, huh?"

Jake: "Ye, it's funnier. Anyway, shit happened WAY different than in the original plot line. Bella and I still got to be friends, and she hung out with my fam a lot, we have massive bonfires cause my dads the youngest of eight kids.

I helped her find her own place actually! My auntie had a 2 bedroom 2 bath house for rent cheap and she took it on the promise of painting it and shit. Of course then she got mixed up in all of our chaos, especially with the pub my dad runs in town, we got the Blacks, and the O'Clearys and the Udys, three old bloodlines. Bella actually found out about the pack by accident, I uh...I had a massive crush on her and she wasn't ready and stuff got tense and I just...poof, y'know?"

Bella: -makes exploding hand gesture- "Poof."

Jake: "Paul didn't like it at first but she became a member of the pack, we don't really imprint like...romantically, it's super rare, but mostly we imprint familial-y, Bella kept helping Emily cook and clean up and deal with a bunch of rowdy guys. (we got put to work too, don't worry) And she just meshed. She also became our field medic. It got so bad that if we weren't at The Farm, we were probably sprawled out on Bella's living room couch and floor, passed out.

Bella: "It was like snow white and the 7 goofy werewolves, it was great. Leah disliked me at first, but she still went through that thing with Sam, so she was struggling. We actually bonded over the whole "Fuck having a supernatural Ex" thing. Girls gotta support each other, you know? She and Emily also made up with a little time. When I was having my nightmares, facing all the shit that was going down alone and helpless, I told her about them. She's a professional kickboxer! She's fucking badass!! I begged her to train me and kept shoving cash at her until she let me hire her. I was USELESS at first, but she ran me hard, and eventually I could even hold my own in a fight against (human) Seth! All the while, Jake here was finding it hard to keep it in his pants, but he was really my rock, I tried to do everything I could to support him through his change and the aftermath, but it...well. You know who I married. -she cringes, Jake puts an arm around her shoulder for a rough squeeze and a small smile, obviously forgiving-

Jake: My crush was hard man, it still is low-key, (J: 👀 B: 😑) but...well, her panic attacks were still coming. And one night we were dancing, and I...well..."

Bella: "We kissed, I was so desperate to move on, feel something else, but I panicked. It wasn't right."

Jake: "She bolted from the party, ran into the woods, I remember screaming, and then this awful earsplitting sound, and a shockwave.

Bella: "....I kinda, blew down like 30 square feet of the forest around me. Thats when I realized all the popping lightbulbs and shaking surfaces weren't earthquakes...but, well, me. It was the worst panic attack I've ever had. So now, my vampire Bf dumped me, my best friend is a werewolf, and I can fuck shit up with my mind on accident when I'm highly emotional. Queue complete mental breakdown."

Jake: "...Then the redhead showed up."

Bella: "Victoria...she killed my coworker, my friend, horribly, gave him the same injuries James did to send the message. We realized she would start going after the people I was close to if she couldn't get to me. I pretty much hunkered down at The Farm after that, the pack did rounds and tried to protect so much land...I was terrified someone was going to get hurt. When she attacked The Farm, we were blindsided. She caught Seth around his chest and almost crushed him. I was terrified, I managed to use one of my "Bubbles" to blow her away from both of us so I could get him to safety and reset his ribs."

Alice: "And all 𝘐 saw was victoria closing in on Bella from above for a third of a second, when she let out her bubble, so, ofc, I thought she was dead and immediately bolted back to Pullman. Everyone else came too, Carlisle, Esme, Emmett, Jasper... We were so shocked Victoria went after her and 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘴.

"We found out, when we arrived at her apartment and she was still alive and being guarded by werewolves, that it was because my dumbass brother never gave her my goodbye letter, and lied to both sides about his intentions for what happened that day in the woods. He told the family he was going to tell her the truth, that he was going to take himself away from the situation and see if she couldn't move forward, if she couldn't have a human life. Not that he was going to lie to her that he "found out it was infatuation and not love" or whatever the fuck the Drama-King decided made sense. -steps hard on Edward, he squeaks mournfully-

"Emmett and Jazz were about ready to hunt him down for not giving her a way to contact the family, Esme was devastated that Bella thought we'd just abandoned her, Rose was...well, rose, and Carlisle and I were dissapointed, (mine was more on the murder side tho.)

Bella: "We really didn't think it could get much worse, but Edward's creative."

Alice: "Rose calls him to tell him Vicky killed Bella, because EMMETT NEVER FUCKING CALLED HER. Edward flies into a fucking rage tantrum and ofc, goes to italy. When I told her what was happening, Bella was 𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥, like, walls shaking, lightbulbs popping pissed, and tbh I kinda wanted to see her kick his twink ass."

Bella: "...The emotions were wild. Rage, betrayal, relief, fear, it was such a jumble. When we got there, saved him, and got passed the volturi, we stayed overnight- well, over𝘥𝘢𝘺 in one of the dorm room things. I was still in my funeral dress and nylons and had lost my shoes, so they let me shower and sleep. First however, I laid into Ed. I wasn't going to carry the weight of "if I accidentally die, I'm gonna be the fuckin reason Edward is taken from his family too." Especially not as a Human. I informed him he was going to come home, apologize, take his lumps, and cope. He was a grown ass man and he needed to act like one and clean up the mess he made."

Edward, from the floor, muffled: "Safe to say, I learned my lesson. My self flagellation and pity-party was immature at best, destructive at worst. I apologized to Bella and my family, and did not yet ask for forgiveness, just for the opportunity to prove that I 𝘩𝘢𝘥 learned something from all of this."

Bella: "...We didn't get back together at first. I couldn't trust him, and he obviously did not trust me or my feelings. But I still loved him. When he was there for me and recognized/supported my autonomy, over a little bit of time I was able to trust him again. I think we both grew a LOT during the experience, and while it sucked the whole time, it was also a catalyst for better things to come. Jake was upset, at first, but we had a long and hard talk. Honestly about what I was able to give to a friendship and if it would be enough for him. He eventually decided, that it was. We still bro's. He even made friends with Edward."

Jake: -Grins and steps on Edwards head. Edward growls and rolls over to drag him to the ground. The boys play-wrestle in the background, though it looks less playful than others. Growling, gnashing, and the word 'fuck' is heard often from the fray.-

Alice: "Idiots."

Bella: "The Cullens and the wolves actually bonded as Esme and Sam strategized about the newborn war. We're not "natural enemies" after all, just smelly to alert the other we're in the area. So Jake and the pack and I are still close as ever. "

"Sorry if this was long winded, but it deserved an explanation! I'm gonna go break the boys up now, thanks for your question!"

#bella is black #edward cullen #the twilight saga #bella swan #cullen family #twilight #dork #meme #Alice Cullen #Jacob Black #fixeddawn answers #fixeddawn #text answer #art coming soon

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halothenthehorns · 4 years ago

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All in the Family

Chapter 67: The Dark Mark

Regulus was used to landing in the absolute silence by now, only the sounds of his companions groaning and shuffling back to their feet. Wherever they were was dimly lit, with a soft green hue barely enough to discern the closely packed trees surrounding their little clearing. Otherwise, there were no birds chirping, hardly a breeze blowing about, no hint of a presence beyond.

Yet when he heard Smith scream, his first instinct was still to look around for the danger, until he actually spotted her looking up.

He'd swear his heart stopped in his chest, he felt like he may as well be looking into another mirror that could show his future. The Dark Mark hung above them in all its glory.

"What, what is it?" Evans hissed, backing to the far edge of the clearing, looking from the symbol to Alice like she expected all of us to start sprouting extra heads.

No one seemed to want to be the one to tell her, all eyes still fixated on the skulls bottomless depth, the snake entwined through every thought he'd ever had. He knew he couldn't form the words as his throat kept convulsing.

"It's the Dark Mark," Potter finally got out, breaking his gaze away but talking more to her shoes. "It's, You-Know-Who's symbol, it means someone's died."

Regulus felt more than saw as everyone then began inspecting the ground instead, as if waiting for the dead body to appear. They'd once landed in the same spot as a deceased unicorn, would they for a person as well?

"Harry?" She asked of no one.

Potter could only swallow in answer, and now everyone was scanning the ground for the book to give an answer. He did seem the most likely, and some very small horrible part of each of them almost hoped it to be true. Maybe, if this was how Harry died, they would finally be free of this madness casting them about and get back to their time, their life.

No one got a chance to do anything else though as Sirius launched himself at his once friend and socked him clean in the nose.

Peter hit the ground, blood pouring down his face once more, except now from broken cartilage in the center of his face rather than his ear.

"Sirius!"

"Padfoot, mate what the hell-"

"If you killed him too, I swear I'll-" The elder Black fought like crazy to get Lupin off of him again, Potter scrambling in between them desperately. It was so like the last time, right before Lupin had transformed, Frank couldn't help to back even farther away in fright, glancing up at the sky once more, trying to see past the deadly skull and snake to wherever the moon might be.

Alice dithered on the spot, as if she wanted to help but didn't know who. Evans drew her wand but seemed unclear who to point it at. Regulus didn't even hesitate and darted to Peter's side, offering him a hand up, and letting out a sigh of relief when Peter took it.

He may have staggered to his feet, but did nothing more. He didn't draw his wand to defend himself, or fix his now clearly broken and swelling nose, he just clasped his arms in front of him and cringed in place, as if prepared to take whatever blow came next.

"Sirius! Sirius stop!"

He didn't seem capable of even listening to Prongs anymore, he fought out of the arms pinning him like a madman, unable to see or hear anything but James screaming and the green light dousing everything around them. Then his own face exploded with pain.

"Oi!"

"I am not holding him back so you can-"

Regulus drew his wand and pressed it against the pulse in his older brothers neck. He didn't care Potter shoved him back away or that Lupin now looked likely to let Sirius go and throw a punch himself, all he saw was that he finally had Sirius Black's irrevocable attention.

He spat a bit of blood onto the ground, and against all odds an almost cocky grin slipped into place. "Well look at you, throwing a Muggle blow. Didn't think you had it in you."

Regulus had known exactly what he was doing, and didn't let himself be distracted as he flicked his wand to where he wanted him to see. "Look at him Sirius, really look at him."

He instead busied himself by wincing and pulling at his nose as if to fix it back into place, Lupin and Potter stood at his shoulders ready for whatever came next. Regulus was not backing down, he was tired of second guessing himself.

"Regulus, please don't-"

but Regulus spoke louder, stamping his foot and demanding attention. "How can you lecture me on the decisions of my life, dare call them your friends, when you're just as much of a two-faced, back-stabbing, arse!"

His chest was heaving by the end, but it felt like he'd finally thrown a brick from his chest getting all of that out. He stood waiting for Sirius to hit him, yell at him, something. Instead Sirius' sharp gray eyes wavered from him, he finally dared to look where he'd refused before. He tried to turn away just as quickly again, but everything was still swathed in a green light he'd always hated so much.

The air caught in his throat, his eyes stung. If he looked at him for too long all he'd see was his own mistakes seeping into others all over again. It's not like it was hard to imagine what he could have done to Peter in the future to cause him to get James killed...which meant he was the one to-

Turning sharply away, he went as far as he could from the others, mentally begging anyone from following him, not trusting his voice to say it regardless. His foot crunched over something along the way and he didn't even pause to see what.

Potter and Lupin exchanged a wordless look before Lupin took after him once more. The two were just visible in the verdant gloom. Potter just looked desperately between the two and Peter, who was looking after Sirius as well longingly. He'd seen something on his face, there for just a second, but wasn't even sure what to make of it. It certainly wasn't the all-consuming hatred he'd been expecting. Not able to look at anyone else now, he finally quietly summoned the book to him. It came shooting to his hand from a nearby tree, and he read the almost predictable chapter title now.

Regulus for his part was left fuming in place, even if he still did feel just slightly better for finally getting to fully say his piece. He didn't know what was going to happen next, but he liked to think this was a step in the right direction.

Frank, Lily, and Alice all felt like spectators at the most awkward show imaginable. They had no stakes in this recurring bomb of a life. Well, Lily supposed she should, as she watched Potter bend down and pick up whatever Black had stepped on.

Pettigrew was reading quietly but swiftly, before they knew it the peace of the game in the book was as much a thing of the past as it had been the moment they'd landed here. The kids were running for their lives, a Muggle family was being put on a grotesque display. The closer she looked, she saw the way Pettigrew's skin turned sallow as he described it all happening, how sick he looked at the thought that really could be him one day. She watched Potter's hand close convulsively over what appeared to be a toy, a little Quidditch player with its arm popped out of socket.

Now Harry's wand was missing, and he was possibly running for his life. She couldn't get it out of her head, that the Death Eater's were going to catch up to him and end his life. She chanced a glance towards Black and Lupin, standing as close to each other as they could, gazes unwillingly fixed back on the book just like everyone else's. It had amazed her, among other things, how all four of them had almost instantly accepted this future and begun talking about Potter's kid as some inevitable thing to be.

She was only just catching up, she was sixteen for crying out loud! If she ever fantasized about having kids, it certainly wasn't with Potter! She couldn't even pretend to deny it anymore, her heart clenched with painful worry as a boy who was to be her son was separated even farther, now it was only him and his two friends alone with a threat out here.

A nightmare she never even knew she could have seemed about to come to life before her ears, she staggered back in fear even as she drew her wand for a protection that wasn't her own, despite no threat appearing. Harry was surrounded, and she wanted to help him.

Peter Pettigrew's voice shook, he stammered for a few more painful moments before looking to James Potter for what to do, still a source of comfort. Only the steady look of worry for his boy remained as he finally read it out, and there was a tiny break of relief it was only stunners sent his way. Then, a more stable breath of fresh air, as it turned out to be the Ministry coming to call for whichever Death Eater had sent up the signal instead of the opposite.

What happened next was a madhouse, and yet somehow still easier to take in stride as a house-elf was accused of these crimes and a high-end official of the Ministry Winky belonged to seemed to take control of the mess. Harry's wand having done it all was the only piece she latched onto. When had this shift occurred? At what point had she finally allowed herself to admit she was worried about this kid- her kid?

As Arthur Weasley explained in more detail what exactly had happened, and Hermione mentioned she'd know because of a book, it occurred to Lily to think of this backwards. What Harry would think of her if he'd seen how she'd been acting towards him all this time. She glanced helplessly at Alice and Frank, who were standing in each other's arms for comfort.

If Severus had been here, would she be doing the same? Seeking comfort in familiarity? Through every step of this she'd clung to her current life without admitting it may well be her past.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #GoF #Marauders #Wolfstar #Jilly #Regulus Black #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Remus Lupin #James Potter #Lily Evans #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith

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snip-snap-the-bat · 6 years ago

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That One Snily Story I Swear I Didn't Accidentally Forget About

When Harry was three his parents started fight, and he really didn't like it when mummy and daddy fought, he never really understood what they talked about but it was lots of yelling and he really didn't like it. After they fought daddy usually wouldnt be back for a few days, and when he did he was either drunk or hungover.

His mummy hated it, and she used to threaten locking him out. On this fateful day in 1987, though, his parents had been yelling for hours. Usually by now his daddy would of left and let mummy clean up the mess he made.

This was why Harry was peaking through the gap in the door, tears threatening to fall as he watched his parents yell. He didn't understand much, but he got small bits of information here and there.

"I can't deal with you-"

"You act like a child!"

"We were meant to be!"

"No we weren't."

His dad had gone silent at that, his mother steaming with rage. Harry's six year old self, trembling with fear, peaked around the door. He was ushered to bed, and a little while later his mummy had come up to soothe him.

This went on for a further three years, and one night, when Harry was laying in bed, eyes glued to the bland ceiling as he heard the muffled yells through the floor. He was just about to dose, as he would most nights, when he heard, rather cleanly,

"Oh for- We're over, James!"

Harry had to strain to hear his father's splutters, but a few more words were shared that Harry couldn't hear. The house went silent, the slam of the living room door sounded and he though that was his dad leaving, again.

When he heard light footsteps on the stairs, though, he realised it must be his mother going to bed, and his dad must've taken the floo.

When his door creaked open, and he heard the flare of the floo, but then heard Sirius' voice, he looked up from under his bedsheets to see his mother approaching. "Harry, do you want to go to Aunt Alice's house and have a sleepover with Nev?"

Harry, stricken with glee at the thought of seeing his best friend shot up, with a loud, "Yeah!" Lily smiled at him, "Pack your overnight bag, then, I'll be in my room packing mine." She got up and headed for the door again, but just as she was reaching for the door handle, she was stopped with a quiet, "Mum?"

She looked back at the son who was standing at the side of his bed, "Why do you and dad fight all the time?" He asked, just as quiet, and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. She sighed sadly, "That's a story for another time, sweetie. Get changed, okay? And go pee before we leave, we don't want you to we-" She was cut off by an embarrassed whine, "I haven't wet the bed for two years, mum!"

She smiled at him and the almost normality of the situation and nodded, "Okay dear." Before leaving the room.

When Harry was at his best friend's house all snuggled in bed, he heard his mum sobbing from his aunt Alice's room, just across the hall. He huffed, and closed his eyes, a new loathing for his father had appeared.

By the time Harry was ten, the divorce papers had gone through and he visited his dad, Padfoot and Uncle Moony every weekend. He wasn't a huge fan of it because Pads and his dad would always get drunk and talk about pranks and such, but Harry really loved his Uncle Moony and because the three lived together and his mum wouldn't talk to either of them, this was the only time he got to see them.

Harry thought, on a few occasions, when he'd asked Moony to bring him home early he had seen a man leaving through the floo but didn't pay much mind, falling into his mother's arms and gripping her tightly. Those nights he usually ended up sleeping in her bed with her.

Harry went to a Muggle primary school, and he had few friends and was generally picked on. He and his mother had an extremely close relationship, and due to that he was seen as of lesser, as it was 1991 and the world wasn't very accepting. Lily always told him that it was okay, that when he went to Hogwarts he would be with Neville at least and wouldn't be picked on.

Harry wasn't very sure, though, because he'd never been away from his mum for that long. He doesn't mind being picked on because he can always come straight home to his mother and everything would be okay; but when he was at Hogwarts, high in Scotland, would he be okay?

He always wanted to ask his mum about it, but he wasn't sure if she would react well because once he tried telling his dad and he said he had to grow up and stop being such a mummys boy. Harry was very conflicted.

He loved his mum and his uncle Moony, and that was it, and he wouldn't see either of them for an entire school year.

He put his worries to rest and thought about the day trip his mum was taking him on in the morning, before nodding off to sleep.

When Harry awoke, his mother was making breakfast in the little house they had rented out. He jogged down to the kitchen and sat at the table, grinning at her.

"Did you sleep well dear?" She asked, setting the table, "Yes ma!" He answered, and she smiled back, "That's good. Now, how about you eat your breakfast and go get dressed so we can meet up with Alice and Frank? Neville is coming too." And that was the end of the conversation. Harry finished his breakfast and got dressed at lightening speed, bouncing around on the balls of his feet, before being sent to brush his teeth.

The day was good, Harry and Neville played in the park while their parents laid, talking on the grass. Then they had a picnic and eventually went back to Longbottom Manor, for a slumber party.

Harry and Neville got their Hogwarts letters a few months later and so they were off to Hogwarts.

Harry was terrified. He did not want to be on the train, leaving his mum, and even if he was with Neville, they might not be in the same house and Neville might find other friends and no one would like Harry and-

"Harry? Are you okay?" Harry snapped out of his anxiety riddled day dream, "Uh, yeah, fine." He murmured, rubbing at his eye. "Wanna maybe play chess? Or exploding snap?" Neville asked, and Harry was grateful for such a best friend.

When Harry arrived at Hogwarts, he realised many things: One, Malfoy is a prat, two, lots of children had no idea what was going on and were just as terrified as him, and three, Ron was here too.

Harry had only met Ron a handful of times, usually when Lily bumped into Molly in Diagon. Apparently James new Arthur through work and it was all a bit complicated, Harry didn't care to learn. Ron was nice enough and very loyal but he was a little hotheaded and a bit too fast for Harry and Neville's pace, so they let him talk to the other, more excited students.

The sorting went fairly well with both boys in Gryffindor, Harry had to fight to stay with Neville. He had zero friends in Slytherin, so no thank you. They ended up seated next to a rather talkative, bushy haired girl with buck teeth, and she had more knowledge than the Longbottom library, or the boys reckoned so anyway.

The man in black, who he was told was Professor Snape, was a bit weird, He thought to himself. He looked a bit like the boy in his mum's pictures but he was too afraid to ask him if so, and he kept looking at Harry like he was checking that he was okay.

He assumed it was because he looked scared and brushed it off.

Harry's classes were fun, and some of his teachers were a little bit weird, like Snape and Quirrel, but he didn't pay much mind. Professor Snape was still a mystery to all of them, he never smiled or showed any emotion, and he would randomly disappear.

The students claimed that he was a bat animagus and he would just hide in the shadows and observe. Snape was aware of this, and did nothing to denounce the statement.

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maraudersandlily20 · 7 years ago

Text

Three Moments, Three Women

Alice

Lily sat quietly, the fire roaring in her and Remus’ apartment. The boys had been called away on a mission by Dumbledore, but Lily had had a fever the day before. The shaking and the sweating didn’t make her particularly anxious to go and fight death eaters. She was usually the most gungho about missions, but she just couldn’t work up the energy.

She couldn’t work up the energy to do anything. She had tried to read, or to clean, or send letters to her parents, but everytime she lifted her head, spots swam in her vision and she had to stop. It was frustrating. She hated being sick. So she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, wearing thin pajama shorts to let in cold air against her skin. The chair had basically swallowed her, and though she couldn’t get to sleep, she was undoubtedly comfortable.

A small knock on the door caught her attention. “Who is it?” She croaked.

“It’s Alice.” Lily couldn’t help but smile at the answer.

Alice Longbottom was not the type of person Lily thought she would be friends with. She was two years ahead of Lily and was unfailingly quiet. She rarely spoke to anyone in school and never drew attention to herself. She was mousy. It was the only word to describe her. Her husband, Frank, was the complete opposite. The Marauders adored him and his loud, clumsy ways. He often got into terrible trouble participating in pranks with them. They were polar opposites, Frank and Alice, but they loved each other fiercely that it just made sense.

When Lily accepted a post in the Order, she and Alice often were paired together on missions. Alice had a knack for calming Lily down when she got over emotional. Soon, Lily considered her one of her best friends. She and Frank lived a few streets over. So, visits between the two women were common.

“Come in!” Lily called. Alice followed her instructions and walked in, holding a large pot that was steaming. She set it down on the stove and made her way toward Lily. When she reached her side, she placed a small hand onto her forehead to feel her fever.

“Wow, Lils. Remus said you were bad, but you’re really burning up. How do you feel?”

“Like I’m dying. Like my throat is on fire and my body is going to explode. How do you feel?”

Alice laughed. “I feel amazing. Frank went with the other boys and left me alone. I finished the laundry and I made dinner. Which is why I’m here. I made way too much soup. I’m not very good at portion sizes yet. Remus told me you were sick and I thought maybe you’d like some?”

“Oh Alice. I think you may be an angel. Remus and I haven’t gone shopping all week and we’re basically out of food. I would love some soup.”

Her friend just laughed and began rummaging around the cupboards until she found bowls and spoons. She came back with two steaming bowls of soup, handing one to Lily before taking a seat on the couch beside Lily’s. The two then spent the next few hours talking and laughing and sharing stories of their boys or their time at Hogwarts. Lily watched Alice talk and felt her body relax. Her dear friend, seeing that Lily was finally giving in to sleep, kept talking, her stories and voice getting softer and warmer. After a few minutes, Lily was out cold. Alice laughed and cleaned up their dishes. She went around the apartment, tidying what she could, before settling on the couch with a book.

It must have been an hour later when James, Sirius, Remus, and Frank all came through the door, laughing and joking. Alice looked up and shushed them.

“Boys, Lily is trying to sleep.” They all got sheepish looks on their faces at her words, quieting their movements. Frank, her husband, walked over to her and gave her a swift kiss on the lips. Alice smiled up at him.

“Hello, love.”

“Hello. James, I think you should take Lily to bed. I left some soup on the stove for you all, so you just have to heat it up a little bit.”

“You’re amazing, Alice.” Remus said, gathering bowls from the cupboards. James grabbed Alice’s shoulder in a friendly way, kissing her cheek, before moving around her. He gently gathered Lily up in his arms and headed down the hallway toward her room. Her head lolled over to rest on James’ shoulder. Alice watched them fondly, standing and taking Franks hand in her own. They grinned at each other, heading for the door.

“Alice.” She looked back toward the kitchen, to see Sirius standing, his mouth full of soup, closed in a smile. “This is the best soup I’ve ever had.” She was amazed that he was able to keep the food in his mouth as he spoke

She grinned and laughed in her light way. “Thanks Sirius. I’ll see you boys later.” They were waved out the door and Remus looked back to his boyfriend.

“I love that woman.” Sirius murmured reverently, shoving more soup into his mouth.

“Who doesn’t?”

Marlene

Marlene was drunk. Incredibly drunk. She stood on the doorstep of Lily’s apartment, singing a Beach Boys tune and banging her hand against the door.

Lily threw open the door in exasperation. “Marlene. I love you. But you’re going to get arrested if you keep singing like that. If you can even call that singing. So please. I’m begging you, shut up.”

“Well, if you would answer your damn door, Lily, I wouldn’t have to resort to such dramatic tactics.”

The redhead rolled her eyes before letting Marlene stagger into the apartment. She guided her inebriated friend to the kitchen where Marlene sat down hard on the wooden floor.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, drinking this much every Saturday night. No one ever wants to deal with you when you’re drunk, and you’re even worse when you’re hungover. You have work in the morning as well, of course. You’ll probably be fired in this state. Ugh, Marlene. Why do you keep doing this to me?Now sit down, I’ll pour you a glass of water and get you and aspirin.” Marlene started hiccuping, making Lily sigh deeply. “You can sleep with me tonight.”

“You know.” Marlene said. “If you stopped being such a spoilsport, turned on some music and maybe took a drink, this would be so much more fun.”

Lily tried to ignore her, and did so successfully for about 20 minutes. She got Marlene water and painkillers, but Marlene started begging. It was just one of those days where she needed to let loose and felt Lily had to do the same. And finally, Lily relented. She allowed her best friend to grab a bottle of firewhisky from the pantry and put on a Beetles album. Though it wasn’t in her plans, Lily got a little more tipsy then she originally thought.

Then they were dancing, singing at the top of their lungs, and were extraordinarily drunk. After the record ended, the two girls collapsed in a heap on the floor, drunken giggles spewing from their mouths. When they got control of themselves, they laid quietly on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

“You ever think about the future?” Marlene asked.

“What about it?”

“I don’t know, like what kind of job you want. How many kids you want. What it would take to end the war. You know, that kind of stuff. The future?”

Lily shrugged. “I guess. But I’ve been thinking about that kind of stuff since James and I got together. When you meet the person you want to marry and spend the rest of your life with, it just makes sense to think that way.”

Marlene was quiet. “Lily, will we still be friends once you get married?”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I just worry sometimes that maybe, when you get married, you’ll forget all about me.”

“Marlene, are you out of your mind? You’re the best friend I ever had. Being married isn’t going to change that. Not in a million, trillion years.”

She laughed. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

James came over two hours later and found the pair asleep on the floor, their hands conjoined. He saw the mostly empty bottle of firewhiskey in the corner and knew what must have happened. He rolled his eyes and spoke to himself. “I swear, every time Marlene is over, they get drunk. What kind of girls night is it if you can’t even stay conscious?” But he left them there on the floor and pulled a blanket over the both of them, glad that, even though they never stayed sober together these days, Lily had a friend like Marlene.

Mrs. King

James had one neighbor on his floor. The other two apartments around his flat were empty. But there was an elderly woman who lived right by him. She was sweet, always brought the boys cookies or cake or whatever was left of the food she made that afternoon. James really liked her. Mrs. King was her name. She was the best neighbor he could ask for.

It was a Thursday night. He had just returned from a mission with Frank Longbottom and was anxious to get home. Sirius was spending the night with Remus due to some sleeping problems he was having. Which meant Lily was spending the night with him. The two had grown incredibly busy due to Order business and hadn’t spent time alone together for a while. He was planning on ordering a pizza and listening to music all night long, among other things.

He opened the door, expecting to hear some noise coming from the house. But it was silent. “Lily?” He called. No answer. This confused him. He knew she should be there, yet she was absent. And then he heard her laugh.

It was unmistakably her. He knew her laugh better than he knew his own. It wasn’t in his apartment, though, it was coming from next door. From Mrs. King’s apartment. He set down his bag and took of his jacket before walking over next door and quietly knocking. He heard a giggle from his girlfriend before she opened the door.

“Oh! Hi James.”

“Hi love. What are you doing over here? In an apron.” She was covered in flour, with a striped apron over her pajamas. She looked like she was cooking. “Lily are you cooking? I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We know what happens when you cook.” She rolled her eyes.

“Mrs. King is teaching me how to make bread. If you’re polite, you can stay.” He gaped after her as she disappeared behind the door. He followed after her, shaking his head in amusement.

Lily was kneading dough with her hands, the elderly woman by her side, quietly instructing her. James took a seat at the counter and watched them. Mrs. King was very kind, she praised Lily when she did something right and quietly corrected her when she messed up. Her patience was greatly appreciated by James, who knew when Lily got frustrated with cooking, she tended to give up or burn something. A guiding hand was just what she needed.

Mrs. King told the young couple stories of her husband. He was a war vet, the two of them were married for 40 years and were incredibly in love. She had been a school teacher and he became an engineer. They had 3 children, all of whom were married with kids of their own. He passed away from cancer, and she had moved into the apartment to not have to live in a big house alone. Lily and James were enthralled with her stories and were quite a captive audience. When the bread was baked, Lily asked if she would help her make dinner.

“Oh dears, are you sure this is how you want to spend your evening? An old woman like me isn’t much company.”

“Oh contraire, Mrs. King. If you force Lily away now, she’ll never be willing to learn how to cook again. I’m begging you, please teach her how to cook a meal.”

Mrs. King laughed and shook her head, but pulled out a recipe. She walked Lily through what to do to make a pasta dish, very softly. James sat with his head on his hand, smiling at the scene. Lily’s parents had been out of the country for a month by then and it was shocking to him how starved she was for parental affection. Mrs. King was just what she needed.

After a half hour, the pasta was made, the bread cooked and sliced and the table set. James and Lily sat with her, eating dinner and sharing stories. They had to watch what they said, considering the neighbor was a muggle, but they enjoyed themselves immensely. They sat at the table much longer than they expected. Finally, around 9 o’clock, Mrs. King looked up at them.

“I’ve loved having the both of you over this evening, but it’s getting rather late and I don’t want to take up your whole evening. Thank you for coming and making dinner with me, Lily.”

“Thank you for teaching me.” She answered, smiling. She and James stood, bid farewell to their neighbor, and headed next door. “James?” Lily said. He hummed in response as he unlocked the door. “Could we go and visit Mrs. King next week?”

James looked over at her, his expression warm. “Sure, Lils. Whatever you want.”

Hi kiddos!! This wasn’t the story I originally was going to post today, but, seeing as it’s National Women’s day, I wanted to write a few moments to highlight important women in Lily’s life. There’s hardly any plot, it’s not very well written. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that it is so so so important to celebrate women, whatever way you are able to do that. For me, that’s writing. Women are so important to the world and in my life personally, and I needed to show some love for the ladies. So, please enjoy this story and make sure to tell any woman in your life how much you love and cherish them. We wouldn’t be anywhere without women. (I wrote this story in an hour to make sure I posted again today. If it’s bad, please don’t judge me too harshly haha.) Love you all! HAPPY NATIONAL WOMEN’S DAY!!

#hi kiddos #day 16 of fanfiction #fluff #oneshots #james potter #lily evans #national womens day #little vignettes #jily #my writing #happy reading

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ratherhavetheblues · 4 years ago

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ANDREI TARKOVSKY’S “MIRROR” ‘I took everything but forgot the key…Strange!’

In the films we find necessary, there’s seldom, if ever, a chance to set in relief a smiling baby boy. Mirror (1975), by Andrei Tarkovsky, does not include such an event as a supercilious whimsy. In fact, that presence is extremely well proffered. Our film concerns, as always for Tarkovsky, and for Bergman before and after, the way to smile with conviction. The baby has an instinct to thrive in that moment. How does it fare, going forward? Forces rule; and we all play versions of the same game.

Near the beginning of this saga there is a woman, in the Russian style, having many names (here, Maria, Masha, Marussia, and [particularly] Natalia), lounging, as is her wont, on a rustic fence at her appealing rural home. She’s having a smoke and gazing upon the panoramic meadow many miles distant. She notices a man approaching a long way away. The man’s voice-over remarks, “The road from the station lies through Ignatyovo… turning off near a farmstead where we spent our summers before the War, and then to Tomshino through a dark oak wood.” (Someone who knows where he’s going?)

The woman is not happy seeing a stranger. Birds sing, but smoking is more her style. He’s carrying a black satchel. As he arrives she tells him, “You should have turned at the bush.” He asks, rather forwardly, “Why are you sitting here?”/ “I live here.”/ “Where? On the fence?” This annoys her. He counters with, “Strange, I took everything but the key.” His tone implies that it was she who missed seizing the key. He asks, “Why are you nervous? Give me your hand. I’m a doctor. Don’t count! I’m counting.” (A ripple of the Surreal, and the Theatre of the Absurd. Standbys of Bergman and Tarkovsky.) “Must I call my husband?”/ “You’ve no husband. You’ve no wedding ring.” (Swift panning shots.) The smoke from her cigarette carries an almost volcanic thrust. Her tightly wound hair sends a message of pedantry. He’s given the cigarette he wants. “Why are you so sad?” he inquires. He sits on the fence along with her, and it promptly collapses. He laughs. She doesn’t. He sees a flash of the uncanny. She sees nothing out of the ordinary. (But does this clash introduce two sides of the same mirror?) Marching off, a bit, she asks, “Why are you so happy?” His mystique plunges, when saying, “It’s nice to fall with a pretty woman.” He rallies with, “Look at those roots, these bushes… Did you ever wonder about plants?” She is cleaning off her clothes. He perseveres, “The trees, this beechnut.” (The Major, in the film, Ivan’s Childhood [1962], where a woman is stalked and insulted in the woods, has been put in place in contrast to the interplay here. A singularity? An upshot of structure which could be seen as a mirror, a very specific and complex process of force.) “They’re in no hurry,” he maintains. “While we rush around and speak platitudes… It’s because we don’t trust our inner natures. There’s all this doubt, haste, lack of time to stop and think.” It seems there’s something very wrong with that commotion. She begins to say, “Do you have…” But he rudely interrupts. “Have no fear. I’m a doctor, you know…” When she’s able to say something, she fires off, rather surprisingly, “What about ‘Ward No. 6?’” (That being the writer, Chekhov’s, whose concern here was strictly about injustice, not obscure, enigmatic possibilities. Natalia’s job, as a proofreader would be rooted in pedantry, almost as far as one gets from the stranger’s passion.) “It’s all Chekov’s invention,” is the careless way he dismisses the humanitarian. “Come to Tomshino. We have jolly times there.” (This being an invitation to the pagans in force, in Tarkovsky’s film, Andrei Rublev [1966].) Her refusing the invitation, he gives her short shrift to deal with the cut ear (the deaf finesse) he scratched on falling from the fence. What maintains is the ripple of the grasses in the wind. He stops and looks back. A fierce gale comes and goes. Nothing seems to adhere. But the voice-over of the pagan, bound for idyll, one way or the other, tells himself a pretty story. “You were lighter and bolder than the wing of a bird… flying down the stairs two at a time… pure giddiness, leading me throw moist lilac…” Cut to a small boy. “To your domain beyond the looking glass. The Alice in Wonderland making everything bright.” (How a problematic becomes a farce.)

We have on our hands much more than fantasy. Our saga is a misadventure. But misadventures cannot secure what we’re headed for. And it all comes down to that mirror of deftness, which the two here butcher. Much preparation demands to be delivered before we can discern the heart of the matter. The woman leaning on Chekhov, does by her body language, manage a wan smile after the zealot backs away into the meadow. But such breadth of outlook evaporates quickly. Natalia, at her workaday prime, gives us a vivid episode of what makes her tick. But beyond that apex, we require surmising that she, for a while, had attempted the same rabbit hole as the bemusing doctor/pagan. (One more heads-up. There is a dizzying spate of locales in this film. At first, we see her on a lovely farm. And now, in black and white, she’s the epitome of the urban rat race. Much more to come. Don’t try to straighten out the chronology. The point is, that with every turn they make, it’s the wrong one. Sort of like Alice.)

With her military coat flying in the breeze, our protagonist is right on tap to cut a dashing, go-getter careerist, along one of the more chic, and treed passages of the metropolis. Something troubles her ramble. The forces of benign nature are overcome by a torrent of rain, with wind and the ricochet exploding from the pavement. She, here, an even greater pedant than the version at the fence, had got into her head that she might have allowed a misspelling of a thorny term.

Reaching her destination, she bolts along a corridor replete with many plants, which she had never noticed at the most relaxed moment. Two of her associates join her frenzy, amidst many massive presses. It isn’t the first. She explains the possible calamity in terms of, “But it’s a “Special Edition!” (Very much here, we are meant to be seen that powerful forces—crazy, wise and delicate—must not be mistaken as mundane. Captive of emotion opens upon, when alert, a world never yet seen.) On realization that the overblown trouble was a false alarm, one of the sidekicks, Liza, has the temerity to tell her that she resembles a famous matinee farceur. “Your whole life’s just, ‘Fetch me some water,’ as per the actress. It’s a show of independence. If something doesn’t suit you, you pretend it doesn’t exist. I’m amazed at your ex-husband’s patience. He should have bolted ages ago. Do you ever admit you’re wrong? Never! You created the whole situation. You can say he escaped in the nick of time, before you managed to make him like you. I swear you’ll make your children miserable.” After Natalia briefly sheds a shock of tears from the salvo, indignation takes over. The critic tries to apologize, but our fleet protagonist outruns the apology, and ensconces herself with a shower at the facility’s amenity. (Another name of our floundering “independent” is Masha. In Ivan’s Childhood, a military nurse, Masha, knows how to keep her mouth shut in face of emotional violence by hopeless normality. She dies in the War. But she dies with true independence. Her sense of self-creativity brings to bear the mirror, and its carnal gift of hands.) In the solitude of the shower room, she emotes, “Passing life’s halfway mark… I lost my way in the dark wood.” Then she does a little dance step. Little. She musters a smile that isn’t a smile. Masha bemusedly, turns off the tap. In the all-white context, she notices a stain, high-up. She laughs at the little war, and her savvy and canny forces. Intent on advantage as well as pedantry, there is a loss of power. She covers her head with her hand. A hand never to elicit the magic of the mirror.

At the very outset of this film, we encounter two vignettes keening, variously to achieve the maximal which can be mustered. The first scene is most bizarre, namely, a declaration of attempting to activate a television from the back of the set. The young immature boy “operating” the enterprise seems intent to display that what goes on the screen is nothing but bogus. In a second form of intelligence, we do see the screen, being a design of straight blue vertical lines, somewhat like that advanced, cubist iconist, at the end of the Tarkovsky film, Andrei Rublev.

The second form of the embarkation is a (bemusing) vision of science on the march. A teacher dealing with stuttering has become convinced that the problem can be overcome by extreme intensity of physical force of the limbs. Her mantra is the stiffened positions. (Cut to black and white.) She tells her student, a young man ill at ease, “Concentrate on my hand. My hand is drawing you back.” The boy casts a shadow. The shadow presents a more resolved force. She holds the back of the boy’s head. The teacher is not pleased with the exercise. “Your attention is on your hands. Your hands are becoming dense.” Dense. The poor student.

What will work is quite a surprise. We’re not used to seeing things effectively on this watch. Of course, no one here attains to lucidity. But our trek has a resolution, which our effort must clarify at this point of seemingly endless confusion. The bemusing teacher’s premium upon hands and fingers comes to a territory to linger. Our bodies have been intensively scrutinized by religion, science and the arts. But what has been overlooked is that our bodies reach not only to planet Earth but the entire universe. The forces in our finite powers involve a structure of infinite cooperation. When Tarkovsky puts into force the notion of the mirror, he’s launching a commingling. Dispatching the workaday and the uncanny, within the mirror, is a field almost certainly better handled by other wits on other planets. (Our unfortunately final Tarkovsky film, Nostalgia [1983], coming up, attends more completely with lingering matters.)

Lingering matters become, then, the slippery slope which, in many cases back themselves into an appalling gumption. But even poisonous creatures like Masha face the music in ways which could avail somehow. That “somehow,” that world of bathos and pathos, does taste (fleetingly) the wherewithal to brighten other souls in other places. To think that all that we have is this dubious attitude right here, is cheapening, to ridiculous measures. The persona may amount to nothing, here. But processes of passion can be part of a very large constituency. Virtually no one in our film attains to enjoying the depths of the mirror. As we look upon these passions, we stand in awe that such skirmishing is the upshot of dazzling resources. Drama, indeed. Drama, beware.

Our appalling (and routed) protagonist first gives us a slice of her domesticity by having her two toddlers presented to a breakfast they cannot acquire. The food lies everywhere, but in the children’s mouths. The March Hare. She seems intent using her literary background to play a cynical poem amidst the disarray. “Awaking, be blessed, I said” (we see identical twins—mirrors of each, sort of, though with different genders). “And knew my blessing to be bold… for you still slept. The lilac on the table stretched forth to touch your lids with heavenly blue… and your blue-tinted lids were calm, and your hand was warm. Locked in crystal, rivers pushed.” She looks into the distance. “Mountains held a sphere of crystal, and in your hand, you slept on a throne. And righteous Lord—you were mine… You awakened and transformed our mundane, human words…” Piles of books. A pan shot finds her seated, troubled. “Then did my throat fill with new power… and give new meaning to ‘You.’ All was transformed… even such simple things as basin, pitcher… Birds escorted us and fish swam upstream…” Swimming upstream, the geography of life. “As fate followed in our wake, like a madman brandishing a razer.” (An interlude of uncanny events: a burning barn, recalling the burning barn where sheep were killed by a coward, in Bergman’s, The Passion of Anna [1969]; a large bird in the house; a snow of plaster in a now-hated house; a well, sterile. In the film, Ivan’s Childhood, there is a last moment of true poetry, related to a well. It’s not impossible. The poetry is the finery of Tarkovsky’s father. Once again, then, as with Bergman’s hatred of his father being a clergyman, there is here a send-up of Tarkovsky’s father’s fatuous literary attempt.)

Masha, as time goes by (time going by, so crazily here, with three disparate settings and three temporal eras hopping around) being part of a challenge to all of us to ignore such ponderous poppycock and mind its real business of the mirror. As such we don’t need to know who’s on first. We need to know who’s smashed it out of the world of stiffs. One day, while visiting her ex, a figure almost only in action by way of voice-over (at a loss for the real deal?), she asks, “Why are you hoarse?”/ “Don’t worry, it’s probably a strep throat.” After a while, he dies suddenly of throat cancer. His follow-up gambit is not so different from that of the stranger who broke the fence. “I haven’t spoken for three days. Being silent for a while is good. Words can’t really express a person’s emotions. They’re too inert.” As with the first one with a measure of vision, the deep voice show’s vast incoherence. She tells him, “You only know to take.”/ “That’s because I was brought up by women. If you don’t want Ignat (one of the twins) to be like me, get married soon.”

Speaking of war, the occasion is his hosting a family of Spaniards, refugees of the Civil War, then in force. In expressing the hostilities, the group’s spokesman inaugurates a deluge of various violence. He begins with his zeal for bullfighting, illustrated with a newsreel showing killing a bull. From there his love for Franco is combustible. “What’s he saying?” Masha thrills. More documentary film ensues, beginning with a woman during bombing runny away with a mirror. From the safety of Russia, the careful fascist gushes, “He (Franco) was overwhelmed by the farewell. The entire city saw him off. His mother couldn’t attend. She was ill. But his father stood sadly on the sidelines. He knew they would both be thinking the same [fatuous] thought. Would they ever see each other again?” Back in Moscow, the oppignerated traditionalist scolds his daughter for poor flamenco style. (Much newsreel material of warriors in World War II, especially those slogging along shorelines pushing war material, undercut gung-ho heroics. Viscosity, for what it’s worth. But in many such struggles there appears, crazily perhaps, signs of courage. That would be the time to note that Masha’s boy, Ignat, puts on a display of not much pacifism but much hate. Serving as an army cadet, during shooting practice, he deadpans–pretending to be always “unfortunately” moving in the wrong direction. Milking that stunt, he puts into play a fake hand grenade, creating pandemonium. A flimsy version of Theatre of the Absurd.)

There comes a time when our protagonist comes up needing to sell her jewelry. (Before that, we see her with chronic lip sores.) She tells us, “We’re from Moscow, but we have a room in Yeryevetes.” She and Ignat retrace a long-ago trudge to their former home, as seen near the beginning of the film, when she refused the pagan. The Spaniards have settled comfortably in that beauty. She lies, “My husband’s in the City today.” Advantage in a tailspin. “I’ve come to see you. It’s a private matter.” The new owner is not pleased to see Natasha, attempting to appear what she isn’t. But the jewelry sweetens her disposition. Once on the prowl, the wealthy immigrant not only wants to buy everything the embarrassed bookish one has, but she demands (the visitor the bull and the new owner the matador), to butcher one of the hens at the chopping block in the kitchen. Natasha, not the pastorale type, finds the experience another world, but still not the right one. The humiliation (a good old Bergman move) has left her unable to handle the transaction. (The lady of the house, being pregnant, pretending that such violence at this moment is beyond her refinement.) The money grab, needing anonymity. More than all of that, though, there is a visit to the nursery of her baby boy. The child is a picture of beauty and joy. Moreover, he is that treasure of all, a potential to taste what life is, the mirror, perhaps even interacting (from a true accomplishment) the treasures of half-lucidity, to make the world, as it is, go round. (At this tipping point, the dying ex, in his element in the void, attempts, “A soul without a body is like a body without a shirt… I dream of another soul, dressed in another garb” [happily semi- true?]. Is he guilty of something? His mother, at the hospital, notes, “He thinks he is.” He adds, “Leave me alone! I just wanted to be Happy…” [semi-true].)

At the very ending of this unruly, and apt, series of disappointments, when the daughter had not yet been fired, one afternoon in the meadow Masha’s mother is seen to attend to the twins, while her underachieving daughter stands fast beside a very high cross. A flock of sheep. Ignat’s contribution consisting of blowing into a leaf to simulate passing gas. Fortunately, the meadow knows what to do. The trio comes upon a stand of mature trees, where they are lost from sight. The measure of pathos of the grandmother and her charges carries a ripple of valid pathos, a ripple being quickly lost in the passage of distraction. There may be no real substitute for embracing the mirror. Voice over by Tarkovsky’s father, beginning with the miasma of war “action”: “I flee not from slander or poison. There is no death. We’re all immortal. All is immortal. Fear not death at seventeen nor at seventy. There’s only reality and light. There’s neither dark nor death in this, our world. We’ve reached the beach… and I am one of those who pull the nets in… when immortality arrives in batches. Live in a house and it won’t crumble. I’ll summon a century at will… The future is decided now. And if I raise my hand, the five rays will remain to you. My bones, like beams… hold up each day. I measured time with a surveyor’s staff and passed through it as though it was the mountains. I choose a century according to my height… touching horseshoes and prophesizing.”

The dying deep voice, having become a confidant to the forces of the Spaniards, but also someone Russian (perhaps the invalid’s mother), makes an inroad of deep irony by way of Ignat being, for a short visit, schooled, by the oldest and most reflective of the family and, for that matter, the whole town. In a Moscow palace, of sorts, with salt-mine design (including a panoply of nooses along one wall [well understood by viewers of Ivan’s Childhood]), the Grand Dame tells non-scholar, Ignat, to fetch a distinctive book from the library’s third shelf. “Read the page where the bookmark is” Ignat’s recital: “In replying to the effect that arts and sciences have on mores, Rousseau said, ‘it was a negative one. The division of the churches separated us from Europe. We did not take part in a single one of the great events. But we had our own special predestination. Russia and its vassal expanses forced at last something to carefully ponder, pertaining to the Mongol invasion. The Tatars did not dare cross our eastern borders… They retreated to their deserts; and Christian civilization was saved… To achieve this goal, our way of life underwent a change which alienated us from the Christian world. As for our historic presence, I cannot agree with you. Do you not find something significant in Russia’s position, to amaze the future historian? Although I am truly attached to the Czar, I am not inspired by what I see around me. As a writer, I am annoyed… I am insulted… but not for anything in the world I change my country or choose another history of our forefathers, as God ordained it.’” (A letter from Pushkin to Chaadayev. October 19, 1836.) A resource of the elements. A resource of the mirror.

#andrei tarkovsky

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dustedmagazine · 8 years ago

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Dusted Mid-Year 2017, Part 3: The Lists

Michael Chapman and the 50 crew

In this final segment of our Mid-Year report, Dusted writers list their favorite albums from the first half of the year. If you missed them, read parts one and two, as well.

Tobias Carroll

Dreamdecay — Yú (Iron Lung)

Julie Byrne — Not Even Happiness (BaDaBing)

Sarah Davachi — All My Circles Run (Student of Decay)

The Bug Vs. Earth — Concrete Desert (Ninja Tune)

Mary Lattimore — Collected Pieces (Ghostly)

Priests — Nothing Feels Natural (Sister Polygon)

Slowdive — Slowdive (Dead Oceans)

Sufjan Stevens, Bryce Dessner, Nico Muhly, James McAlister — Planetarium (4AD)

Cold Beat — Chaos by Invitation (Crime on the Moon)

Alice Coltrane — World Spirituality Classics 1: The Ecstatic Music of Alice Coltrane (Luaka Bop)

Dude York — Sincerely (Sub Pop)

Pissed Jeans — Why Love Now (Sub Pop)

Various Artists — Synthesize the Soul: Astro-Atlantic Hypnotica from the Cape Verde Islands 1973-1988 (Ostinato)

Future Islands — The Far Field (4AD)

The New Year — Snow (Undertow)

Bill Meyer

Amir ElSaffar/ Rivers of Sound, Not Two (New Amsterdam)

Anthony Pasquarosa Abbandonato Da Dio Nazione (Vin Du Select Qualitite)

Evan Caminiti, Toxic City Music (Dust Editions)

Jaimie Branch, Fly or Die (International Anthem)

Michael Chapman, 50 (Paradise of Bachelors)

Richard Osborn, Endless (Tompkins Square)

Jennifer Kelly

Michael Chapman — 50 (Paradise of Bachelors)

Julie Byrne — Not Even Happiness (BaDaBing)

Group Doueh and Cheveu — Dakhla: Sahara Sessions (Born Bad)

Tinariwen — Elwan (Anti-)

Imaginary People — October Alice (Five Five Diamonds)

Sleaford Mods — English Tapas (Rough Trade)

Mark Lanegan — Gargoyle (Heavenly)

Xetas — The Tower (12XU)

James Elkington — Wintres Woma (Paradise of Bachelors)

Chuck Johnson — Balsams (VDSQ)

Justin Cober-Lake

Tift Merritt — Stitch of the World (Yep Roc)

Jaimie Branch — Fly or Die (International Anthem)

Led Bib — Umbrella Weather (RareNoiseRecords)

Jens Lekman — Life Will See You Now (Secretly Canadian)

Jesca Hoop — Memories Are Now (Sub Pop)

Bill Brovold and Jamie Saft — Serenity Knolls (RareNoiseRecords)

Charly Bliss — Guppy (Barsuk)

Son Volt — Notes of Blue (Thirty Tigers)

Eivind Opsvik — Overseas V (Loyal Label)

Anthony Pasquarosa — Abbandonato Da Dio Nazione (VDSQ)

House and Land — House and Land (Thrill Jockey)

Avishai Cohen — Cross My Palm With Silver (ECM)

Chris Potter — The Dreamer Is the Dream (ECM)

Eric McDowell

Bottle Tree — s/t (International Anthem)

Nathaniel Braddock — Quadrille & Collapse (Invertebrata)

Jaimie Branch — Fly or Die (International Anthem)

Joshua Abrams Natural Information Society — Simultonality (Eremite)

Rune Your Day — s/t (Clean Feed)

Bill Orcutt — s/t (Palilalia)

Juana Molina — Halo (Crammed Discs)

Ben Donnelly

Shadow Band — Wilderness of Love (Mexican Summer) Folk-psych of my dreams, or the dream folk in my psychosis.

Banana — Live (Leaving) Taking mallets to chamber music

Here Lies Man — S/T (Riding Easy) Shaking like a man on fuzzy tree, appropriating like Elvis

RVG — A Quality of Mercy (Bandcamp) Romy Vager's Group makes pretty jangle isn't too pretty, as per the habits of early Flying Nun

Various — Monika Werkstatt (Monkia) Composition by committee has never worked so well

Delicate Steve — This is Steve (Anti) The sort of guitar ringer Reed would put in his band when he was sick of being described as raw.

Derek Taylor

Jaimie Branch — Fly or Die (International Anthem)

Stephen Riley & Peter Zak — Deuce (Steeplechase)

Roscoe Mitchell — Bells for the South Side (ECM)

Ellery Eskelin/Christian Weber/Michael Griener — Sensations in Tone (Intakt)

Peter Brötzmann/Heather Leigh — Sex Tape (Trost)

Lee Konitz — Europe ’56 (Fresh Sound)

Oscar Pettiford — New York City 1955-1958 (Uptown)

Billy Bang — Distinction Without A Difference (Corbett vs. Dempsey)

Kostas Bezos & the White Birds (Mississippi)

Jackie Mittoo — Striker Showcase (VP)

Patrick Masterson

Migos — Culture (300 Entertainment)

Pile — A Hairshirt of Purpose (Exploding in Sound)

Big Thief — Capacity (Saddle Creek)

Colin Stetson — All This I Do for Glory (52Hz)

Future — Hndrxx / Future (Epic)

Gas — Narkopop (Kompakt)

Overmono — Arla II EP (XL)

Ricardo Villalobos — Empirical House ([a:rpia:r])

Young Thug — Beautiful Thugger Girls (Atlantic)

Vince Staples — Big Fish Theory (Def Jam)

Ian Mathers

Aidan Baker & Clair Brentnall — Delirious Things (Gizeh)

Los Campesinos! — Sick Scenes (Witchita)

Blanck Mass — World Eater (Sacred Bones)

Jens Lekman — Life Will See You Now (Secretly Canadian)

King Woman — Created in the Image of Suffering (Relapse)

Slowdive — s/t (Dead Oceans)

Kelly Lee Owens — s/t (Smalltown Supersound)

High Plains — Cinderland (Kranky)

Demen — Nektyr (Kranky)

DREAMDECAY — YÚ (Iron Lung)

#dusted magazine #midyear 2017 #tobias carroll #bill meyer #jennifer kelly #justin cober-lake #eric mcdowell #ben donnelly #derek taylor #patrick masterson #ian mathers #midyear

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beckylower · 5 years ago

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In this time of medical crisis, I believe most of us have a renewed respect for our medical personnel. From the highly skilled healers to the hospital night custodians, they are laboring under stressful, frightening circumstances. They are leaving their families to care for others while running the risk of endangering their own health and that of their own families. Today’s post is dedicated to our doctors, nurses, and all medical and hospital staff across the country and around the world. It speaks of an earlier time when decisions about warning the public of the dangers were handled very differently resulting in uncontrolled spread of the Spanish Flu and tremendous loss of life.

In September 1918, it seemed as though the world was poised on the brink of regaining its sanity and that the conclusion to the War to End All Wars might actually be in sight. Germany was experiencing significant defeats and her allies were crumbling all around her. With America pouring waves of fresh troops into the conflict, Germany was now outmatched. The outcome of the war seemed inevitable. What no one anticipated was the emergence of a deadly new enemy that was about to explode onto an unsuspecting public.

Camp Hancock, Augusta, GA

In Georgia, it started in the military training camps at Augusta and Savannah and raged across the state until even the most isolated communities were afflicted. It descended without warning on the Salacoa Valley in northwest Cherokee County the second week of October. Although it is possible today to commute for work from Salacoa to Atlanta, until the late 1950’s the county government considered the valley so rural and so sparsely populated that the winding mountain roads were left unpaved and one had to ford the creek in order to enter the valley proper because there was no bridge. It was in this isolated community that my grandfather had his medical practice and where he and my grandmother raised eleven children to adulthood.

In the excerpt below, literary license was taken regarding the telephone system that operated within the valley in the early twentieth century. I do not know exactly when it was established or when it was abandoned, but my father’s older sisters spoke of the local system and the lady who operated it when they were children. Early telephones were battery operated, which made service possible even in isolated areas that did not have electric service. I suspect the Depression ended the system as it did so many things. After the local telephone system was abandoned, the valley did not have phone service until Southern Bell agreed to run party lines in the mid-1950’s. Electric power arrived in the late 1940’s when an Electric Membership Corporation was formed.

The following is a fictionalized version of family stories that came out of 1918, a period when an invisible enemy wreaked havoc on an unsuspecting world.

Excerpted from The Calling, an unpublished work of historical fiction:

James put aside his newspaper and watched Mary Alice move about the kitchen putting the finishing touches on supper. With Randy and Hiram in France, the strain showed in the new gray at her temples and a few more lines around her eyes. Even so, she was just as beautiful as the day he first saw her sitting beside her mother on a church pew. With this new worry was plastered all over the two-day-old Atlanta Constitution, they would both no doubt have more gray before it was over.

As Mary Alice placed the last bowl on the table, the telephone’s bell jangled. With a sigh, she stepped to the wall and lifted the earpiece. After a couple of seconds, her eyes grew wide and she signaled for James to take the call.

“Dr. Buchanan, you gotta come now. My children’s all done took real sick and they’s burning hot and coughing like they gonna bring up a lung.”

As James gathered his medical bag and some extra medicines, two more calls came in from other families, all describing the same symptoms. James did not return home until noon the next day and stayed only long enough to gather additional supplies and grab a quick meal. While he was gulping down a little dinner, another call for help came and he was off again without giving Mary Alice any indication of when he would return.

By afternoon, the county school superintendent sent word to close Salacoa School until further notice. Too many children were already infected and the young were being hardest hit by what was now being called an epidemic.

James dismounted from Searchlight and stepped onto the porch just before bedtime, limber tips of pine branches tucked under his arm.

Mary Alice followed him into the house, picking up needles as they fell. “Why are you bringing in that mess? That stuff won’t burn. It’s too green.”

James dropped down on the first chair he came to and massaged the bridge of his nose. “That’s the point. Get me the fireplace shovel and some matches. And call the children. I’m going to set these pine tips smoldering and I want y’all to breath in the smoke. Pinesap is a natural sanitizer and breathing infected air spreads this flu. We don’t have much in the way of medicine to fight this once you’re sick, so the best plan is to stay well.”

After the children had gone to bed, Mary Alice took James’s supper from the warming area of the range, but he waved the plate away. “Can you just make me some mush? My stomach’s acting up and I think mush and a little milk’ll sit on it better.”

James ate without enthusiasm. When a person is exhausted, even the act of eating is a chore and it seemed that everything he ate these days caused him discomfort. He had been meaning to see his friend, Dr. Fogarty, about the problem, but he couldn’t take the time right now.

As he choked down the mush, he quizzed Mary Alice. “Are you keeping everything scrubbed like I told you to?”

Her eyes narrowed as she frowned. “Yes, I keep my kitchen clean. I always have.”

James ignored the notes of irritation in her voice. “I can’t be too clear about how important it is to not just wipe up. You’ve got to sanitize, as well. Scrub everything- every dish, pot, the table, everything- after every use with soap and hot water. Make sure the children scrub their hands and arms often. They are not to put unclean hands near their mouths or noses. Period. I’ll let you know where I am as best I can. I’m going to Mr. Wilson’s now. I’ll be there most of the night. I’ll try to come by home in the morning.”

The spark of irritation in Mary Alice’s eyes flamed. “I am doing all of that. Can’t you see…”

James didn’t give her time to finish. He planted a kiss on the side of her head and strode through the door toward the barn. There was no time to worry about hurt feelings or for arguments.

As he rode the uncomplaining Searchlight through the night, Mr. Wilson’s gaunt face floated before his mind’s eye. The old man was now well advanced in years and had little hope of surviving the hold the disease had taken. The best James could offer was comfort and his presence at the end. Without family, Mr. Wilson was very alone in the world. He had always been so appreciative of the invitations to Sunday dinner and the small attentions others paid him. The old man would not be left to die alone no matter the personal toll. The effects of too little sleep and constant worry plagued him, leaving him with a complaining stomach and ebbing energy. Perhaps he could rest beside Mr. Wilson’s bed.

Visions of withered bodies and haunted faces confronted James as they had during his medical school days. They implored him once more to help them, but instead of trying to move the object barring their way as they had in the past, they were simply watching as he alone pushed with all of his might. It moved a little, but the faces were still not satisfied. They pointed to the unseen barrier with stick-like arms and looked at him with eyes filled with grief. He renewed his efforts, but the object only moved an inch or two. Failure stared at him from the other side. Its face wore an expression of condemnation, accusing him with its baleful stare of not doing his best. It silently mouthed the words, “You promised. You promised.”

James awoke with a start to an unnatural quiet. He picked up Mr. Wilson’s wrist and found it still warm to the touch, but not as warm as living flesh. James began gathering his supplies. Grief would have to wait its turn. Other patients needed him. The body could not be left where it was and the county would have to be notified. He would make the call from home and maybe sleep in his own bed for a couple of hours before starting his rounds.

Hearing a vehicle pull into the yard, James went out onto the porch. He found Charles Sinclair standing at the bottom of the steps with his truck idling.

“You gotta come now. Sarah’s took real sick.”

It had been a long time since James had seen fear darkening his friend’s eyes. “If you’ll notify the preacher we need a burial party organized, I’ll go to your house now. Please stop and let Mary Alice know where I am. Send a rider into Waleska to call the county, as well.” James did not wait for an answer. His foot was in the stirrup before he finished speaking.

James found Sarah burning with fever and having difficulty drawing breath. He had no sooner finished making her more comfortable and gotten her fever down when Mary Alice called to say that a family across the valley needed him. James consulted his pocket watch. Charles should be back soon. He scribbled a quick note with instructions for Sarah’s care and left. By the time he arrived at the distant farm, the family of parents and five children were very ill with high fevers. There was no one to come in and help care for them so James stayed with them until a call came from another family. He then divided his time among the three farms. As the rampaging epidemic roared into its third week, James had been home only a few times to get clean clothes.

He stumbled wearily through his own back door for the first time in four days and greeted Mary Alice with, “I’m only here for a few minutes. Could you make me some cornmeal mush while I change clothes?”

The expression on Mary Alice’s face told him how bad he must look. As he turned to go to their bedroom, she placed a hand on his arm. “You need more than mush. Please stay long enough to eat a meal. It won’t take that much longer to eat real food for a change.”

James was too exhausted to argue. “I’ll stay for a little while, but mush is all that will set well. My stomach is up to its old tricks. And please bring hot water so I can shave.”

In the bedroom, he stared at his reflection in the mirror above the washstand. Mary Alice was right. He couldn’t go on like this much longer. Darkened flesh encircled his eyes and his skin sagged over the peaks and valleys of his skull. An ironic grimace lifted one corner of his mouth. In truth, he pretty much looked like a death mask.

Mary Alice came to the door and leaned against the jamb. When he met her gaze in the mirror, tears shone in her eyes. “Please stay home for a little while and get some rest. It won’t do anybody any good if you kill yourself. You just can’t keep going like this. Surely there’s another doctor who can come in and help.”

He really didn’t have the time or the energy for this. He wiped his razor and threw it at the washstand. It landed with a clatter, gouging the wooden surface. “I can’t stop now and you know it.” His words bounced off the room’s fourteen foot ceiling. He bowed his head and leaned on the washstand. Mary Alice did not deserve to be the target of his frustration. Lowering his volume, he continued, “I simply cannot quit.”

The sight of tears streaming down Mary Alice’s cheeks stabbed him. She suffered, too. Being a doctor’s wife was not easy. There were far too many times when his patients’ needs took precedence over those of his family, too many times he had left her to cope with their eleven children and the waiting patients that lined their porch when he was out on calls. At mealtimes, she cooked without complaint for whoever was waiting. She nursed their children when they were ill because he was away tending to other people’s children.

Going to her, James put his arms around her and drew her to his chest as she wiped her cheeks. “I’m sorry, my love. Please understand. If there were anyone else to care for the community, I would do as you ask, but there isn’t. This is what I was called to do and I can’t fail now.”

“I know that. I really do.” Mary Alice’s voice shook. “But I don’t think God or anyone else expects you to kill yourself. Please, please try to get some rest.”

James smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I didn’t want to create false hope, so I didn’t say anything, but I’ve heard from the state Health Department. They are going to try to send a couple of nurses to help, but the whole state is hit just as hard as we are.” He released her, strode from the room, and was gone before she could speak again.

The nurses eventually arrived from Atlanta, giving James the help he needed. October leaves had flamed into November’s chill, bringing frost nearly every morning and the reopening of the school. The flu epidemic roared to an end as suddenly as it had begun. One day it was raging, the next it simply vanished and the valley breathed a collective sigh of relief. The pandemic’s toll was accounted by most to be the worst in a lifetime, but amidst all of the grief, hope returned. The Germans capitulated as predicted, the guns ceased, and the Armistice was signed. It was a terrible irony that too many American boys had died in their stateside military camps, some without ever seeing a day of war, others having survived the trenches only to face an unseen enemy at home.

While this is a picture of another doctor, one of my cousins has a picture of our grandfather much like this one.

Note: The real James lived for another 9 years, dying at the age of 57 of stomach cancer. He continued to practice medicine until just a few months before his death. My grandmother, the real Mary Alice, lived to be 92 and held the life-long belief that my grandfather’s dedication to his patients and the stress of his rural practice were in part responsible for his early demise.

Salacoa Scenes

Linda Bennett Pennell is an author of historical fiction set in the American South or about Southerners traveling far from home. While she writes about the land of her birth, anything with a history, whether shabby or regal, ancient or closer to our own day, has fascinated her since early childhood. This love of the past and the desire to create stories of it probably owes much to her Southern roots.

Southern families are filled with storytellers who keep family and community histories alive. It is in their blood and part of their birthright. Linda’s family had many such yarn spinners who entertained the family on cold winter evenings around her grandmother’s fireplace and during long summer afternoons on her wraparound porch. And most important of all, most of those stories were true.

Click here to connect with Linda and find out more about her writing.

War and Pestilence: a Doctor’s Story In this time of medical crisis, I believe most of us have a renewed respect for our medical personnel.

#1918 #Georgia #historical fiction #Salacoa #Spanish Flu #WWI

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halothenthehorns · 4 years ago

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All in the Family

Chapter 9: The Potions Master

"Oh this is perfect!" Peter burst out with surprised laughter the moment he'd caught his breath back from the stone room spinning about. "Slughorn's office, couldn't have asked for better!"

"What were you two talking about over there?" Sirius demanded with a slight pout, rubbing furiously at his head and so looking more cross-eyed than anything when he saw Regulus nodding appreciatively at their surroundings as well.

"Where are we?" Remus noted as he began looking around in detail, stretching and sitting up with a small frown.

The office wasn't designed to have eight random students be plopped into it, and those were the most obvious at first. James had landed in the chair with such force he toppled it over, sending the robes that had been hanging on the back to pool beneath him but doing nothing to cushion the fall. Evans had landed hard on the desk and upset a bottle of ink, while the other six had simply crashed to the ground in the little available walking space, Alice nearly in the fireplace with a hateful mutter, "this isn't feeling any better every time!"

They all got to their feet though with more winces to see what Remus meant, and found the not so subtle signs. The desk took up the majority in a spacious room, so it looked more menacing than any office they'd been in. The walls were lined with jars full of pickled things, Lily immediately identifying four of them. They were clearly somewhere in the dungeons with no natural lighting, the place echoed with almost as much emptiness as the immense hall before.

"I think we're in Snape's office?" Regulus said, having to dig the book out from under the desk and flipping to the next chapter.

"What do you mean he got an office?" Sirius scoffed.

"Do you expect them to give him a cupboard when he became the Potions teacher?" Remus rolled his eyes for that one.

"Or how about asking, so we're really traveling through time?" Frank muttered clearly to himself. The Dursleys house before had been ominous but still something outside their world, this was a place in their school that should not exist yet.

"Next chapter's all about him, so it looks like we'll find out," Regulus inserted when he read as much, and even Alice and Frank couldn't garner up any kind of good mood at the idea of this, but at least their slight grimaces were kind to the other four making exaggerated, pained expressions.

Lily simply looked radiant, wondering if she could convince the little Black to give this chapter up, but he was already going.

The start wasn't as bad as they would have thought, listening to Harry go through his classes for the first time was something they all knew well so it was much like their experiences with the last few chapters. It came to no one's surprise gossip was following Harry around, and James at least was excited to hear, whether intentionally or not, of Harry trying to get into that forbidden room just to find out himself what was in it, and they all had a good laugh at the bits Filch made an appearance in.

Most of the classes were as unmemorable as their own firsts after so many years, the only highlight being they all laughed at McGonagall still showing off to the first years, though she'd switched from a cow as in their year to a pig this time.

The Marauders couldn't help but give a mocking laugh to the idea it had taken Harry so long to get down to the Great Hall without getting lost, while Frank made a face in sympathy for the kid as it had taken him a week.

Lily couldn't help a pleased smile that Hagrid was still giving Harry such attention even in school, though she wasn't quite sure what the motive was for this considering Harry clearly now had a friend. She tried to tell herself she was acting paranoid, but it wasn't helping her feelings of unease grow worse when Regulus got to the last class.

For once, James wasn't paying much attention to her, especially her growing frustration at someone other than him for once as he watched his friends. Sirius was shuffling his feet with guilt the moment Snape appeared properly in full detail, but at least Remus was frowning at him rather than avoiding looking at him.

"I thought you two had cleared the air on this?" He muttered, unsure how much of a wasted effort that was and if he was going to be heard anyways.

Clearly thinking of the same, Remus chose his words carefully, "we, made our grievances clear, and it, ah, made some other things come out that we needed to talk about-"

"Look Remus," Sirius' impatience pushed through Remus' awkwardness, "I did a stupid thing, and I apologize. Now you are very well aware I didn't mean it, and clearly it's had no impact on this gits life," he finished with disdain when Regulus just kept dishing out the snide comments from Snape in this future.

Remus nodded his agreement to this, giving him an awkward smile and James hoped they were done lingering on this already. "Was that really all it took for you two?" He couldn't help but mutter in exasperation, but honestly he was more than happy seeing the two smiling at each other again, he just wanted things back to normal.

It helped that Peter chose that moment.

Nothing so grandiose as some of their setups they'd done in the past, but Peter wasn't doing this to impress anyone either. He just hadn't quite decided Sirius needed to be let back into the fold without some kind of revenge, so in perfect synchronization as if they'd planned it, he and Regulus raised their wands and intentionally combined two perfect spells that had a pipe line above Sirius temporarily dump down onto him.

There was a blast of icy cold water that sprayed only him, and then it was repaired as suddenly as it had started, leaving Sirius apparently one who'd rolled around in half cleaned seaweed on its way to the lake.

"Thank you Wormtail," Sirius said as it continued dripping down him, he even had to spit a bit of it out of his mouth before he could continue, "for finally getting that over with."

"You knew I was going to do that?" Peter protested.

"You are many things my friend," Sirius rubbed carefully to get a particularly slimy chunk of green out of his eyes, "subtle is not one of them."

Peter raised his hands in surrender but went over and offered Sirius the robes which he gratefully accepted to start wiping at his nose.

When he sneezed and a bit more flew out, Lily couldn't suppress it anymore and burst out laughing.

James looked over wildly and found her leaning up against the farthest shelf, her face bright red and holding her sides.

"Oh, so you do think we're funny?" He eagerly jumped at the chance to parlay with her in such a suddenly good mood.

She didn't answer for a moment even as her giggles subsided, nor did she plan to as she'd rather swallow that nasty concoction rather than admit why she'd laughed so hard.

It should have been impossible, it certainly made no sense to her to hear the way Sev was treating a kid, no matter who Harry looked like. She'd been growing steadily more outraged at the treatment of these children, and the blow he'd dished out to Neville just now in making it his and Harry's fault for a potion exploding was honestly the worst thing she'd ever heard any person do, let alone her best friend!

She'd wanted to scream, she wanted him in her face right this second to explain that this was all just a cruel idea of a joke and he was going to turn into that kind and attentive friend she knew so well any second, she'd had so many things building up in her for a solid few minutes that when she'd watched a genuine act of merriment even being played out amongst idiots who caused her more grief than anyone, she'd finally released it all.

Potter seemed to realize he wasn't going to get a response, so finally sighed and turned back away to continue smiling and laughing with his mates like old times while Alice sidled up to her again, holding her nose but frowning for a wholly other reason. She stood awkwardly there though, unsure how to reach out to Evans this time and offer anything when honestly the lot of them were just seeing more of the same Snape they saw every day, hearing those nasty rumors of the rest of the friends he hung out with. Frank hadn't said anything to her, but she could tell he was uneasy about Evans and much she associated with those nasty pre-Death Eater's just like the rest of the school.

"I don't suppose it helps at all he's treating all the kids like this, not just Potters," she tried anyways.

"Nope," Lily's icy, one word answer was enough that Alice got the mood and left her to stew in silence and sidle back over to Frank, who was scowling hatefully at this all as well.

"If Potter doesn't dunk his head in a vat of boils when we get back I will."

"Frank, that's not like you," Alice reprimanded quietly as she took his hand.

"Well I think it's high time I should be like that," Frank took her hand quickly and gave it a squeeze as he kept hearing what Neville was going through. "I've been growing sick for ages watching all these bullies run the school, now it turns out one of them's going to be given a position of power by Dumbledore himself and he's still abusing it. I've been saying for ages I want a way to fix this Alice, got to start somewhere."

"Turning into the monster only creates another," Alice quoted with a heavier frown.

"What would you have me do then?" he sighed, easily backing down from the threat as he looked to her bright amber eyes. They hadn't even realized they'd both wanted to be Auror's last year when he'd offered to study their OWL's together, each finding out it was the others desire as well only at the beginning of this year and they'd started dating that night. It was a purpose that they were sure would have drawn them together no matter what in the end, a fight they knew they were going to get involved in with the coming war and looking to meet it head on.

"What you always do Frank, use your head," she tried to chuckle, though it didn't last long as Regulus described Harry's mores mood upon going to Hagrid's, it admittedly hadn't been the best end to his first week.

Yet they were all caught off guard by Harry easily piecing together what they honestly hadn't given much thought to. What was Dumbledore moving around that was so important then? Regulus was so involved thinking about it, it still didn't occur to him to give them warning when he finished.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #Marauders #Wolfstar #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Lily Evans #Regulus Black #Alice Smith #Frank Longbottom

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