CHAPTER NINETEEN
dreams of a midsummer night

                           𖦹 ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ˚⋆˚ 𖦹

  COVE CAN'T STIFLE HER GASP WHEN she steps inside the Great Hall. The school dance committee has truly outdone themselves this year, for the festival of Litha has been brought to life before her very eyes.

   Aureate motifs set the room alight in a warm summertime blaze and sunflowers coil around towering pillars, their enchanted vines slithering across furniture to embellish everything in a rich viridescence. Dried orange and lemon slices entwined with wheat make for gorgeous hanging decorations and wreaths dangled upon the ceiling beams, warmly coloured candles floating between these overhead obstacles. A golden disco ball dressed up as a sun even rotates overhead, casting polka dots that glimmer like citrine gemstones around the expanse of the grand room.

Professors cling to the walls with varying levels of enthusiasm, the chaperones for the night that have been elected to overlook the Seventh Years with a watchful eye. Students in her year crowd the dance floor with drinks and festive treats betwixt their fingertips, bobbing along to the magically amplified music from an unseen radio as they await the main event.

   In that single snapshot of the evening, everyone looks so happy and so beautiful that Cove could cry. It dawns on her that this'll be the last time everyone in her year is together perhaps forever, which is a double eyed sword of pros and cons. She has to blink her lashes together harshly to avoid smudging her mascara, her cupped hands pressing over her mouth to smother her watery smile.

Cove is snapped from her vaguely teary stupor when she feels a tug on her wrist and she leans in to hear what Mary's trying to say. Eyebrows furrowed, Cove follows her jerky line of sight and somewhat erratic attempts at pointing. She eventually spots Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon hanging about on the opposite side of the room with crystal glasses cradled in their hands. She thinks that it's sweet how their dates are practically glued to their sides.

"There are the girls," Mary shouts in her ear, her words just managing to breach the loud music. "Let's go over, yeah?"

"Sounds good!" Cove shouts back, allowing for her friends to shepherd her over to the opposite side of the rooom.

   Her grip on Remus' hand never falters, her fingertips tracing the indents of his scars and the cool metal of her own borrowed ring upon his knuckle. He squeezes back reassuringly and she smiles at him from over her shoulder.

Marlene and Lily perk up when they notice their four friends approaching, waving and grinning wildly at the sight of them wriggling through the crowd. They're bracketed by James and Dorcas, the two dressed respectively in smart daffodil dress robes and a flowing, sparkly orange frock.

Lily's dress is a pretty sage green to contrast the auburn of her coiled hair and Marlene's dress is a shocking red that makes her bottle blonde pop. Alice and Frank are stood together as well, now unobscured by the tightly woven crowd, their outfits with pale yellow motifs perfectly complimentary of one another.

They exchange the typical hugs, exclamations and greetings before relaxing back into a semicircle on the outskirts of the dance floor. Apparently they had just managed to liberate themselves from the thriving crowd and have been recovering next to the refreshments table, sipping away at lemonade and various other sugary soft drinks that fizz upon their lips.

  They fill in the blanks for the four new arrivals, though fortunately they hadn't missed too many melodramas since the night started. ( Only that Venetia Sheehan and Cassandra Bulstrode had worn the same dress! )

Marlene hands out disposable cups from the tabletop behind her, each of them filled with something that smells like lemonade. Cove can't help deflating slightly at the realisation that it's just fizzy juice, but as if sensing the disappointment clouding her contentment, Marlene sneakily pulls a hip flask from her tiny little handbag and nudges it into her eye line — an offer, an olive branch.

  Everyone coins onto this quickly and nudges their cups toward the girl, crowding her to shield the flask from the prying eyes of any professors. She dribbles some magical liquor into their lemonade that sparks when intertwined with the bubbles, smelling vaguely of elderflowers and something else much more powerful.

"Oh, bless you, Marlene McKinnon," Cove cries. "What would we do without you?"

She winks. "It would be no fun."

Cove inclines her cup in agreement, raising it up to the golden light. "Sláinte."

Marlene cheers. "Sláinte!"

   Everyone choruses the saying in clumsy Gaelic that makes the two laugh, some of them knocking back their drinks whilst others take tentative sips. It tastes a little odd, to say the least — a peculiar concoction of muggle fizzy juice and strong wizarding alcohol that makes Cove's mind fog up saccharinely, her tongue stinging and aflame from the contrast.

Remus hands her a small biscuit that was resting atop a nearby platter. It's meticulously shaped like a jagged sun, a dollop of lemon curd beading in the centre to give the vanilla a burst of much needed flavouring. To Cove in that moment, the simplicity tastes like divinity, like ambrosia to the gods. She's reaching for another when Marlene interrupts her with a proposition, her hand faltering halfway through its journey and a disgruntled look worming over her face.

   "Covey, love," Marlene begins, "did you go to muggle primary school?"

   She dips her head into a slightly confused nod. "Aye, I went to a wee local one. I was one of the only weans there."

   Marlene beams. "Right. Soooo, I take it you've done cèilidh dancing before?"

  Cove brightens up at this, the fluttery sensation of understanding sweeping over her. She can't help the delighted laugh that bubbles from her glossy lips, nodding again.

   "What's a caylay?" James asks with a puzzled scrunch to his face, the word clumsy with his accent.

"It's like a social gathering, or a party," Cove replies, grinning ear to ear. "Usually you do cèilidh dancing at weddings up here, or even just at get togethers. There's special dances that you do to traditional music and muggles are made to learn them all at school. It's awfy fun, so it is."

Marlene extends her palms. "'Mon then, Henderson, why don't we show them how it's done?" Her eyes glint in delight. "D'you know Strip The Willow?"

Cove scoffs an incredulous, teasing laugh, surging forward to take her hands. "Do I?"

On that note, Marlene swings her into the first steps, the pair encircled by all their friends as they dissolve into laughter and try to coordinate the traditional dance to the beat of a modern pop song. It's been a long time since Cove was forced to do social dancing in her primary school but after attending a few weddings and gatherings in the local village, she's relieved that she can still remember all the correct steps. She's fine with Marlene taking on the leading role and tossing her around, interlocking their elbows and spinning in wild circles before stepping back to their original position, clasping hands once more and continuing to spin.

   She's beginning to get a wee bit dizzy from the broad circles they keep dancing across the floorboards but she doesn't let that falter her fun. Their clasped hands raise above their heads and Cove's being pirouetted beneath Marlene's arm, looping back around to their original position so that they can kickstart the dance from the beginning again.

Everyone around them jerkily tries to copy their movements, the partners moving clockwise along the circle with every final flourish. Cove ends back up with Remus eventually, the scars on his warm palms slotting over her own as if they were carpentered to be a pair. She slows down the pace a little to teach him all the correct moves, tipping her head back to cackle whenever he bashes into one of the other couples or steps on her toes. His face heats up from embarrassment but she just kisses away the mortification, slinging her arm around his own to keep him right.

They only stop to come up for air when they notice the crowd shifting around them, echoes of speculative chatter ringing through the room as the music quietens down. They've drifted back into the epicentre of the crowd by now, closed into the commotion by their fellow students.

"What's happening?" Cove whispers to Remus, who's got a good vantage point above the crowd.

Now, don't get her wrong, Cove is a tall girl — especially with the heels that are currently digging into her feet. However, she's not quite at the stage where she can tower over all their peers with ease the way Remus does. He cranes his neck to speak into her ear, voice straining above the surrounding ruckus.

  "I reckon our live entertainment's arrived," he says. His smile is contagious as he nods toward the stage. "Looks like Padfoot's finally about to come on."

Cove gasps, digging her fingers into the back of his hand before she can stop herself. He grimaces slightly but refrains from saying anything lest he interrupt how she's practically bouncing on the spot in excitement, opting instead for clasping onto her hand gently. He can't find it in himself to blame her for it, anyways — watching Eros & The Muses perform is truly something else.

  Flitwick scurries onto a podium upon the makeshift stage, rapping his fingertip against the levitating microphone and clearing his throat when the squealing feedback comes to an end. He gives a curt, finely choreographed speech on the successes of the band that nobody's really tuned into before stepping back from the spotlight. His little arms are thrown wide as he makes his final declaration of the night, his squeaky little voice resounding around the hall.

  "Introducing, Eros & the Muses!"

Cove cheers so hard her throat begins to hurt, bouncing on the spot with so much enthusiasm parts of her intricate updo begin to fall out. Remus laughs at her enthusiasm and lets go of her hand so that she can clap enthusiasm, joining in with the eruption of applause and the encouraging cheers.

Eros spots her in the crowd and winks at her in acknowledgment as he adjusts the microphone. She pretends to swoon and that earns a laugh out of him before he goes on to warm up the crowd. Watching her friend tune into that beguiling reputation his mother has chalked up for them over the years is definitely strange, albeit fitting beneath the technicolour stage lights.

When the speakers begin to amplify the band's playing, the music feels as though it's coursing through her body, the bass thrumming in her veins and the lyrics soothing the frazzled static in her ears. She can feel the trembling drumbeat reverberating in her throat, in her skeleton, in the very notches of her soul. There's something so inherently magical about experiencing one of Eros Warbeck's performances live, his voice a siren song and his musicians strumming talent so pure beneath their fingertips that it scintillates.

She's still bouncing up and down with enough enthusiasm to splinter her heel, the crowd around her matching that same energy. Time passes in pure bliss — she leans into the music as though it's a lifeline, surrounded by a tightly woven smattering of her best friends and a little tipsy from whatever poison Marlene has sloshing around in her flask.

When the band have finished their set after an hour or so that felt more like mere minutes, slipping through their fingers like fine granules of sand, the party dissolves into the home stretch of swaying and drunken singing. The tempo of the music has slowed down to the point that Cove just finds herself slumped against Remus, enraptured in his warmth.

He's humming along to the song that's playing, tapping his fingertips rhythmically along to the beat. Cove doesn't even know if he realises that he's doing it. She tries her best not to interrupt his thoughts, fogging her own mind with the faraway lyrics and occasionally honing into the conversations around her.

However, his sudden stillness snaps her out of it. She stops swaying in his embrace, tilting her chin to gauge the shift in his expression.

His index finger is prodding at her shoulder to get her attention. "Here comes trouble."

   Cove looks up, puzzled. "Hm?"

"Excuse me, Lupin," a familiar voice says. "May I steal your date away for a moment?"

Remus snorts at the faux formality. "Think you should be asking her, mate. Not me."

Cove turns to face a grinning Eros, vibrant golden eyeshadow dusted on his lids to match the silken tie adorning his collar. His robes are so intricately detailed, spangled with glitter and embroidered suns, that it'd look gaudy on anyone else and yet he somehow manages to pull it off. His voice is a tad scratchy from the hour of singing he'd endured, though the confidence clinging to his face melts away any after effects that may have worn him down. Although that doesn't mean she can't see his exhaustion through his glamour, that good old Warbeck charm still managing to filter through his angel eyes and glittering smile.

"How was it, then?" he asks, spinning her under his arm so that her skirt fans out slightly and gets tangled up in her legs.

"You smashed it," Cove replies. "Couldn't have asked for a better act tonight."

   "Oh, thank you, darling," he replies, wiping away crocodile tears. "Fanning the flames of my ego. I appreciate it."

  "That's what friends are for," she drawls jokingly, taking her turn to spin him and laughing when his head bumps her arm because of the height difference.

"That's what I like to hear, Henderson."

  They spin and sway for a little longer, giggling when they trip each other up inadvertently. Eros stabilises her with two hands upon her shoulders and leans forward to mutter in her ear, an impish grin spread over his lips.

   "Now, I hate to break up the fun, but your boyfriend's been side eyeing me for the past ten minutes." Eros winks, elbowing her in the ribs. "Think he's barking up the wrong tree, to be fair."

   She hums, looking over her shoulder to catch Remus' stare boring holes into her back. He snaps his head away as soon as she catches him, stuffing his hands in his pockets and pretending to be interested in whatever Peter's saying to him. The scarlet creeping up his nape has her eyebrows shooting into her hairline.

   Cove snickers. "The cheek of him. You're a taken man, so you are."

   Eros nods solemnly. "And I'm afraid, stunning as you are, you're not my type."

   He follows her gaze, only his attention diverts away from Remus and fixes on the boy who's passing a transfigured glass of what looks like Drunken Mermaid between himself and James Potter. The boy with annoying habits, a troubled past and stormy grey eyes; the boy who's trying to build back up the bridges that he had once burned. The boy who's been struck by Eros' arrow and pulled down under his spell, diving deeper with every stolen glance and whispering kiss.

   They're hopeless for one another and for once, Sirius Black doesn't look as insufferable to Cove. Love is a look that suits him. It's nourishing, healing for the underlying hatred in his heart. Now she feels something other than contempt when she sees how happy they make each other — it's not like forgiveness is beneath her!

  Cove's lips upturn at the puppy love in Eros' eyes. She nudges him to shake him from his stupor, wiggling her eyebrows at him suggestively and laughing at the uncharacteristic blush that heats up his cheek. He pushes her face away with the ridiculously soft palm of his hand, scoffing and rolling his sable eyes.

  "Oh, be quiet."

   "You know just what to say to a girl."

The pair dissolve into hiccupy laughter.

°•.•°•.•°•.•°

THE NIGHT GETS AWAY FROM THEM. All things do, in the end. Cove watches as the tendrils of festivity fizzle out and begin to sputter as people begin branching away from the Great Hall. Everyone's sequinned dresses and colourful dress robes bejewel the drab corridors in a funny imitation of the cosmos above, the pull of their beds luring them back to their dormitories as they prepare for the journey home in a few days time.

She doesn't want to think about that just yet. She just wants to live in the moment — something she'd never tried before and isn't sure fits her harebrained thought patterns.

At some point, Cove and her ever growing group of friends stumble outside in search for fresh air. They collapse in a heap when they stretch far enough away from the castle, finding themselves upon their usual perch overlooking the Black Lake.

"Wait!" Eros exclaims, poking his head up and turning to look at his boyfriend, a wide smile dimpling his face. "I have a brilliant idea. Race you?"

"On the count of three..."

"One... two... three!"

Sirius takes off halfway through saying three, scampering over the grass to scramble away from a shrieking Eros. They race to the bottom like primary school children, tumbling over one another in the desperation to come out triumphant, courtesy of the competitive nature that they're renowned for. They both end up sprawled on their backs upon the grass, muttering something to one another with starry eyes and meeting halfway in a sappy kiss that makes the rest of their mates gag exaggeratedly. If it weren't for the jeering and wolf whistles of their friends, Cove doubts that they'd ever pry away from on another.

Suddenly, Eros sits up as if he remembers his mission, shoving Sirius away from him playfully and leaning down to tinker with something he had conjured earlier. Loud pops and smoking flares jump out from the tip of his wand as he works away, eventually stepping back to admire his handiwork that rests at the foot of the hill.

He turns to give them a loud countdown before swishing his wand in a spectacularly grand display. Cove gasps as a whistle pierces the air, accompanied by a cacophonous bang and the sparking splendour of bewitched fireworks exploding overhead. Everyone erupts into cheers and applause at the sudden display, Sirius even tackling Eros to the ground in a burst of delighted laughter and peppered kisses.

   The group of Seventh Years all sit beneath the fireworks in awe, entangled together in a large patchwork of kindred spirits. Everybody leans on one another, grinning and simpering and just living on the saccharine summer night they've been awarded. It feels perfect, like destiny smattered betwixt stardust and sunflowers.

   Mary presses a kiss to Fallon's temple amidst the daisies and dandelions, only a stone's throw away from where Cove and Remus are slumped. It's a gesture so small and brief that you would miss it if you were to blink — yet, she doesn't know if she's ever seen her best friend sport such a wide grin before.

   As all her friends laugh and joke around her, Cove feels a sudden pressure on her chest, the lot of them sprawled across the grassy hillside as if it's just another night out on the castle grounds. It dawns on her that this is the last time they'll all be together, unburdened by the stress of simply being alive in turbulent times such as these. The last time they'll be free from the torment of this overhanging war.

  The thought is sobering and she feels as though she's just been submerged in an ice bath, a sudden tidal wave of tears rolling down her cheeks. She tries to hide her sorrows but Remus sees straight through her, craning his neck to get a clearer look at her.

  "Hey, hey," Remus whispers, thumbs swiping under her eyes. "What's the matter?"

   She sniffles pathetically. "We're just kids, Remus," Cove whispers. "This isn't right. We shouldn't be involved..."

He studies her side profile with worry beading behind his eyelashes. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to guess what she's referring to.

   They watch as the fireworks burst overhead, a shimmery explosion of furious oranges and cruel reds. Remus' warmth weighs over her shoulder as he pulls her against his side, smoothing her hair from where it's now tumbling down her back and curling along her spine. He rests his cheek atop the crown of her head, fingertips beginning to trace loopy patterns over the exposed flesh of her bicep.

   "We'll be okay," Remus murmurs into her curls, his hand flattening to squeeze her arm. "I won't let anything happen to you. Promise."

  Her smile wards him away for now, but the worry from before is still present within. She allows her eyes to cast over the Black Lake one last time, coasting along the tree line and tracing the faraway mountains as she gets bundled up in her darkening thoughts. Her sigh trembles in her skull and she buries her face in the folds of his robes, inhaling the familiar smell of chamomile as she sinks into his comforting embrace.

   As she watches the moment fade into another, their school years into a final summer, Cove just wishes that she could believe him.

author's note!

  ACT TWO DONE AND DUSTED WHOOP WHOOP

social dancing is every scottish students worst nightmare bc there is nothing more awkward than being forced to dance with randos in your year, but cèilidh dancing is acc so fun once you get into it!! i couldn't resist adding it in for this chapter

and on that note, i'll see you for a less festive first chapter of official wartime!!! buckle up everyone, it's gonnae be a bumpy ride x