In the midst of a bloodthirsty war of which all wizards were neck-and-neck over supremacy and blood statuses, playing dressing up for a ball seemed quite the superfluous notion. James found it ridiculous, but he still couldn't stop himself from growing sickeningly anxious the day of.

It was an attempt at grandeur, the ball. Came every year. Between O.W.L.s in fifth year and N.E.W.T.s in seventh, its main purpose was to serve as a sort of distraction, a way to excite the lull that sixth-year students were laden with as they spent an entire year dreading their seventh. That, and the Apparation lessons that came all throughout April.

Gwen had done swimmingly at the lessons, of course; which came as no surprise to anyone but her. She had been expecting to be a horrible mess at Apparating, to make a fool of herself in front of all her classmates. But she was among the first five students to get it done successfully, along with Lily, Emmeline, Walker, and Severus. And just after Gwen had Apparated away from her assigned spot next to Sirius, he had splinched his elbow, and blood would have ended up all over Gwen's shoes had she not made it away in just the nick of time. (James, however, had sprung into action and acted as quite the dramatic medic.)

With the lessons out of the way now, though, all the bustling and chatter of the year came to a boiling point, as it was finally—at long last—time for the ball. The suspence had been killing James, really.

     The moment Gwen had asked him to the ball, it felt as though James's heart had stopped beating. And when he saw her in her gown for the first time, it felt as though the entire world had stopped spinning.

She nearly knocked him off his feet, when he saw her. It was, to put it simply, the most beguiling ballgown to possibly ever have graced the halls of Hogwarts—and putting Gwen inside of it only added fuel to the effervescent flame. It was James's favorite colour on her (which he didn't know what colour it truly was, just called it blue), satin, and fit her like a button. She looked like a true princess, the kind from all those Muggle fairytales, he decided as she graced the steps leading down to the Great Hall, bottom lip tugged between her teeth as she focused on not tripping down the stairs. James found himself smiling, unable to hide his wonder, unable to hinder his pride.

Gwen had finally allowed for them to debut—as a pair. Not buried beneath the insolent lies they'd been feeding the school for months, by then, that they were merely friends and that Gwen would never feel that way about James and that he'd never had a fancy for her in the first place.

Now, they were going to enter the ball together, and there would be no more need for lying. James could show off the girl he loved at last.

The first words she said to him were in true Gwen fashion: "Jackie tried to jinx my shoes so they wouldn't hurt but it didn't work and they're killing me."

James grinned, as he offered her his arm. "If it makes you feel any better, this coat is too tight around my shoulders."

"Right," Gwen said, smiling, "because you've got that Quidditch physique, don't you?"

He bit back his smile and looked ahead. "So they say. You, love, look absolutely breathtaking, if I might add."

She twisted her lips off to the side, the apples of her cheeks flushed as they entered the Hall. "And you clean up nicely, don't you?"

"Only for you," he said coyly. Then, he leaned in, turning his head over his own shoulder to add in her ear, "Though I wonder where these outfits may end up at the end of the night, hm?"

She laughed, lightly shoving his chest. "Have you no class, Potter?"

     "None at all," he hummed, standing up straight again.

     Her laugh revitalized him—once bored with the idea of a ball, that all night he would have to endure the floral-decorated inferno that beheld him, clashing with both the magic string quartet and chatter of the students. But Gwen was by his side, and hearing her laugh melted him from the inside out and reminded him why, in the first place, he'd agreed to attend the ball at all.

     And people were noticing, now. All sorts of people.

     It was a small turnout, of course, with invites only extended to the thirty-two sixth-year students. All the staff had received invitations, as well, but only the heads of Houses, Professors Dumbledore, Hooch, and Merrythought had elected to attend. In comparison to the grande decor that had been strung all around the Great Hall (floral wreaths, twinkling candles, and green shrubbery in order to go along with the spring season), the amount of attendees seemed quite feeble.

     But on the other hand, the lack of a crowd proved an easy tack for the news of Gwen and James's arm-in-arm arrival to spread.

     In moments, the entirety of their year was glancing their way, all trying to catch a quick glimpse of the couple. Were they really there together? As each other's date? What did that mean? But I thought Gwen hated him! Not anymore, obviously.

     James felt Gwen beside him. She braced herself, tensed up at the attention. She wasn't comfortable. He pursed his lips, meeting each of his classmate's eye one at a time.

     "Well, what are you all looking at?" he said, over the classical music. "She looks bloody wonderful, I know, but it's proper rude to stare!"

     James had done it again—the King of Gryffindor had again lightened a once-questionable mood with his pompous jokes. The others shifted into light laughter; even if they were still in some sort of disbelief, it was practically impossible to ignore James when he wanted something to be done. And if he wanted no more attention to be on Gwen, then the rest of the sixth-years obliged, all turning their gazes back to their own dates.

Gwen knew, and James knew, that it wouldn't stop their whispering, but James felt Gwen's grip on his bicep relax in the slightest, and that was reward enough, to know that he had helped her in any amount.

"Mr. Potter," greeted Professor Mcgonagall, nodding towards him—and then, Gwen, who could have sworn there a knowing glint of some kind in the professor's eye. Mcgonagall's lips tightened. "Enjoy yourselves tonight."

     James grinned down at the old woman. "Oh, we will, Professor. Thank you."

     "Not too much," Mcgonagall added quickly. "Do you understand?"

Her sharp accent cut through James like butter, and the smile melted from his face as he nodded his acceptance, knowing that his initial excitement had most definitely bought him Mcgonagall's undivided attention for the rest of the night.

Gwen pat James's shoulder for his attention as the professor nodded and turned to welcome in the next couple. James blinked, then turned back to Gwen, watching where she was pointing very closely. Walker O'Brien was headed their way.

"I'm going to to see him," Gwen told James, her arm sliding out of the crook of James's. "I won't be long, darling. Try not to stir up too much trouble without me, right?"

He nodded twice, though his hand caught on hers as she slipped away, and he gave her fingers one more squeeze before she was off with her Ravenclaw friends. James watched her for a moment longer, rendered almost entirely unable to take his eyes off of her, not when she looked so bloody good in that dress—

"So," announced the voice of Sirius Black, and James was able to rip his eyes off of Gwen to see the other three Marauders stood behind him. Sirius looked entirely unhappy. "You two are official, then."

"She's told me she loves me," James replied smoothly, straightening out his suit. "Can you believe it, lads? I mean, she's actually said it, she said the words—"

"Florence told me she loves me, too," said Peter, nodding along in a bumbling manner. He grinned—James knew he was thinking of her, even though she was just a few steps away, chatting along with her Hufflepuff friends. Peter clapped James's shoulder. "Cheers, Prongs!"

"Thanks, mate," James said, smiling. He then turned to Sirius, who clearly hadn't taken the news as well as Peter or Remus had—Padfoot had always been very vocal of his dislike for Gwen, and it was no shock to anyone a few months ago when he'd declared himself her biggest hater. James had appreciated the gesture then, because he'd been in the midst of a row with her, but now he wanted nothing more than for his best mate and his girlfriend to get along.

"Padfoot's happy for you," Remus said, after a too-long pause. "Really, he is. We all are."

     James couldn't help his eyes from lingering on Sirius—he hadn't even cracked a smile. Suddenly a small ball of hot anger blossomed in the center of James's chest, and a fierce frown took over his lips, his eyes glancing up and down Sirius. He couldn't say it—that he was happy for James—for himself?

     "Why is it that you don't like her, Padfoot?" he asked, unable to keep the accusatory tone from his words. "You're practically the same person, you know?"

     Sirius scowled. "She's a right old sod, James. You can't see it, can you?"

"Sirius, I'm telling you, mate—"

"What's she done, cursed you? Put you under a love potion, James?" Sirius looked over his shoulders to Remus and Peter, exhaling a laugh, though it was mirthless and clearly bitter. "I'm only joking, of course, but I wouldn't be surprised..."

Remus put a hand on Sirius's chest, attempting for his attention, sharing a grim glance with James. "Padfoot, let's just leave it—"

"You're being a proper twat, Sirius," James informed him, straightening his back, looking his best mate up and down. He jerked his chin out. "I don't know why you hate her so much, and you're—"

"I don't hate her," laugher Sirius, judgmentally, again looking to Remus and Peter as though they would help him. "I just want to know why it is you're still with her, after all that. She's a good shag, is she? Is that why?"

Peter went bug-eyed. "Sirius!"

"You should shut your mouth, Padfoot; you'll say something you regret," Remus advised Sirius, quietly. He glanced to James. "He took a shot of Daisyroot before we came here, Peter dared him—"

"Yeah," James said, ignoring the second part of Remus's statement, glaring too hard at Sirius. "Be a good dog and shut it, Padfoot."

Sirius's jaw hardened. Gone was his humored demeanor, his ability to think the situation was anywhere near amusing. He glared back at James, and harder than before. Remus ran a hand through his hair, puffing up his cheeks—at this point, both he and Peter knew there wasn't much to do, except let whatever would happen play out—

But before anything could culminate, really hit the fan, there came a loud BANG!, a flash of red light, and immediately the Hall rang out in shocked gasps. The Marauders' attention had been stolen away, James and Sirius's little row long forgotten when they caught sight of the witch on the floor.

Gwen.

She was clutching her side with one hand, her other grip tight around her wand, her eyes practically glowing with hatred up at Severus Snape. She didn't look too injured, and professors were already bustling over to the scene to her aide, but she wasn't having it.

James was off before any of the rest of the Marauders had registered what had happened, and not even a moment later they were just on his heels.

"You'd curse a lady while her back is turned, Snape?" Gwen struggled to her feet, fighting with the tons of fabric of her gown and her too-tall high-heels. She glared back at the gang of Slytherins that had formed behind Severus's tail. "I should've known you wouldn't be one to fight fair."

Severus's shrug was cold, callous. His wand wasn't raised anymore. "Call me a greasy bastard, and I'll have to right myself, it's only fair."

Walker squared his shoulders, advancing on the Slytherins. "Can't blame her for telling the truth, now, can you?"

Snape's face contorted with fury. His lips twisted, ready to spit out another curse, but a shaky voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Severus!" Lily appeared from the crowd, her own light green gown trailing behind her and stumbling her around. "What are you doing? Don't curse him back, Walker, put your wand down, he's just—"

"I don't need your help," Severus snapped, glowering at her, "you filthy Mudblood."

The reaction, of course, was instantaneous—a light gasp came from the rest of the sixth-years. All four Marauders shoved their way into the open center with Lily, Walker, and Gwen, wands raised, faces set with fury. Gwen shouldered her way up to be next to James.

"You've done it now," James said, his usually jovial tone laden with a dark severity. "Snivelus."

"Oh, and who are you talking to?" demanded Mulciber, jutting out his chin toughly. "You lousy blood traitor."

Sirius scoffed mirthlessly. "That the best you can do?"

"Don't get us started on you." Barty Crouch Jr., now, sharp eyes narrowed at Sirius, wand pointed at the jumble of Gryffindors and Gwen. "How's that new scar, Black? Mummy's love still strong as ever?"

Mcgonagall's voice, and Gwen realized she'd been trying to get their attention for a long moment now: "Put the wands down, you—"

"You aren't involved in this," Snape continued over Mcgonagall's words, to Remus, Sirius, James, and Peter. He sneered at them, gesturing with his wand for them to step aside. "Get out of the way. I'd hate for more of Graham's loved ones to end up in Mungo's. Say, Mulciber, d'you think her mum would even recognize—?"

Another blast—from Gwen's wand. Non-verbal. Snape went flying back in a flash of red, Stunned and groaning around on the floor. Mulciber, Rosier, and Crouch rounded on the rest of them, their wands fixed to Gwen.

"You saw what I've just done to him," Gwen said, her voice level, even—though her eyes betrayed her of her true, violent rage. "You two idiots think you've got a chance?"

"That is quite enough!" Mcgonagall burst forward, at last, putting herself right between the altercation. "Wands down. Everyone. This is unacceptable behavior."

"Except," interrupted Professor Merrythought, "for Gwen's Nonverbal Stunner—brilliant work, really—"

"Professor," chastised Mcgonagall.

Snape's voice, battered and weak, from the ground: "Graham started it—"

"Oh, I'm about to end it," Walker threatened, but Mcgonagall put a hand out to stop him from advancing.

"All of you," she said, shrilly, looking a bit insane, "out of the Great Hall, now. You are no longer welcome at this ball. Further punishment will be taken. For now, please—return to your dormitories at once."

It was not to their dormitories that they returned, but rather to the shore of the Black Lake—Sirius's idea, supported wholly by James (under the condition that Gwen was invited, to which Sirius replied "She's just cursed the brains out of Snape—'course she's invited!", and Gwen got the feeling she was finally welcome by Sirius's standards), backed by Peter and Remus, and extended to Gwen and Lily. Jackie had been offered the invitation, but declined, as she was one of the last people who had not yet packed all of her things to return home next week once classes let out.

     "So, Peter, Remus," began Gwen, as the odd group settled into a little patch of grass beneath the starry black sky, "I hear you've got a bottle of Daisies?"

     Peter regarded her, curiously. He twisted his lips to the side. "What are you implying, Graham?"

     "What does it sound like she's implying?" James thumped Peter on the back of his head. "Go on, Wormy, get that bottle out and let's have a spiffing time!"

     It was with great laughter that the bottle of Daisyroot Draught was rationed between the six of them, and before long it was drained entirely, its contents split evenly between the students and already taking its effects. Daisyroot was much like Firewhiskey in the way that it was a more pick-me-up drink, one that would never bring a sour mood to a gathering—but, unlike Firewhiskey, hit its consumer much faster and harder with its effect. In a few moments the six of them were slurring their words and cackling much harder at things that were, soberly, not funny at all.

      "Wait," laughed Lily, eyes red with tears of glee, "wait, wait—wait, okay—"

     "Merlin, we're waiting," Peter said, which brought another fit of laughter down upon the group.

     "Okay, so—" Lily gestured between James and Gwen, her eyebrows high on her freckled forehead. "You—you two are... You have been—are—"

     "Never let her near a bottle of Daisyroot again," said Sirius, reaching for the dregs of the bottle, laughing to himself. "She can hardly form a full sentence."

Gwen's eyes lit up and she sat straighter, grinning. "Oh, I've a brilliant idea!"

"Hide your wands," Remus advised.

     "Which one?" James said.

      "Ew," Peter added.

     Gwen ignored all of their comments, having been laughing to herself over something spilling on her and Lily's laps. She looked back up, unable to stop smiling. "We should take a trip, all of us. Over summer holiday."

     "Ooh," hummed Lily, nodding vehemently. "That sounds wonderful, actually. I went to this Muggle pier with my sister once; we could go back there for a few—"

     "I'll be lucky if I even have a house," said Remus, though not sadly—more just as a matter-of-fact kind of thing. "Orphanage doesn't keep kids after they turn of age, so I've been booted."

     Sirius threw an arm around his shoulders. "We're in the same boat, then, Moony!"

     "Tosh," claimed James, waving his hands. "We'll all go on this holiday, for some days—Moony and Padfoot, you can stay at my house for the rest of the summer, of course..."

     Lily scrunched up her nose. "What's with those nicknames, anyway?"

     Gwen smiled knowingly. "Quite daft, aren't they?"

     "You want to see something, Evans?" Sirius challenged, and he stumbled off the blanket, staggering further away from the group. He turned back to them. "Hold onto your brooms, ladies."

     And in the blink of an eye, where Sirius had been standing was a prowling black dog.

"Circe's tits!" cursed Lily, shocked, and even Gwen let out a surprised gasp. Sure, she'd heard all of the Marauders' Animagi forms, but never had she seen them in person—not even James's.

The black dog sat nicely, tilting his head at the rest of them, as the other Marauders cheered and clapped.

"Nice, nice, Padfoot," complimented James, applauding politely. "Peter, your go..."

Peter wobbled over to stand next to Sirius's dog form—Padfoot—and gave the dog a sideways glance. He settled down, then looked to his feet, shaking his head. "Can't believe I'm doing this in front of two girls..."

"Don't be embarrassed," Gwen cooed, though Lily was still laughing.

Peter scowled at her sardonically, then cleared his expression. He inhaled sharply—then, in an instant, he was no longer Peter's pudgy little human form, and instead was replaced by an even pudgier little rat.

"Wormtail," introduced James, happily, gesturing smoothly to the rodent.

"The names are making sense, now," Lily said, nodding seriously, respecting the integrity of the affair. She looked to James. "You next, Potter?"

"Ooh, yes," agreed Gwen, sitting up on her knees. She leaned over to Lily. "He's never shown it to me before—says it's nothing for a lady's eyes."

"What a gentleman," scoffed Remus. "Go on, then, Prongs."

Without warning, James conformed into a broad brown stag, whinnying his head and showing off his wide-set antlers. His big eyes twinkled in the stars, and the stag nudged Gwen's shoulder with his snout. The black dog barked, and the rat squeaked as it trailed up the stag's back.

Lily and Gwen stared up at the animals, eyes wide with wonder, rendered completely silent.

"If I was sober right now," whispered Gwen, after a long moment, "I think I would be right pissing myself."

Remus looked bored, flipping the empty Daisyroot bottle over and over again. "Yeah, so imagine how I feel when I wake up and they're all standing over my bed like that."

via speaks!!
felt cute might publish 4 chapters in the next 2 days