In A Blink (Marauders Era)

Chapter One

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September First, 1976
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Samantha Rosmerta was the sort of person who enjoyed wearing a mask of any sort.
"Call me Mademoiselle," she'd often tell the naive third year boys on their first trip to The Three Broomsticks with a clumsy French accent. "I 'ave spent six years at ze Beauxbatons, learning ze magic. Only jus' 'ave I come 'ere to 'ogwarts."
On some days, when older boys would come waltzing into the pub as if they owned the place, she'd messily smear on horrendous red lipstick behind the counter and babble about her ex-husband (who was quite obviously a work of fiction; even when she tried, Samantha couldn't look older than twenty). The story grew wilder with time; sometimes her previous spouse was a Ministry worker who drove a Volkswagen bug and smoked a pack a day, and other times he was a prized healer at St. Mungo's who cheated on her with his assistant (the assistant usually being an older woman who wore too-high heels and fishnet stockings).
The most fascinating part about Samantha's infamous facades was that customers almost always believed her.
"Sam, this has got to stop some time or another!" her father would often scold her during dinner on particularly unsuccessful days at the pub. "You've got to grow up, and it's not good for business!"
At this remark, the teenager would raise an eyebrow, sassily swing her feet up onto the counter, and take a loud sip from her afternoon coffee mug.
"That's nonsense, Papa, and you know it!" she would complain. "I'm grown up enough as it is, and if anything-" with an obvious glance out the window and towards the throng of anxious teenage boys waiting at the bar, she would pause, "business is better than ever."
"Samantha Elena Rosmerta!" the grey-haired man would exclaim, which would mark the start of another similar lecture about boys and how they would only ever to a nuisance to his daughter. This was the point in the conversation at which she would tune out, closing her eyes and imagining all of the wonderful things that would happen after her dear old father finally gave in to old age and settled for St. Mungo's
He was a kind man and was an amazing parent (especially when her mother abandoned them), but really- she was seventeen, which was most definitely old enough to earn a wage, which her father still refused to give her. Afterall, Samantha was nearly running The Three Broomsticks on her own already; she brought out the trash every morning, did the taxes, waitressed, handled the register, and brewed all of the firewhiskey with barely any assistance. Seventeen was also old enough to flirt, and she had been denied that right ever since her mother left.
Nevertheless, boys followed her like dogs to bacon, and there was nothing her father could do about that but complain. That, she supposed, was what made the Marauders her favorite customers.
"Oi!" she cried out of the shop door on the first of September. "Remus Lupin, don't think that you can scramble past this door without at least coming in and having a butterbeer!"
The sandy-haired boy smiled cheekily and stuffed his hands in his pockets, shuffling through the doorframe and into the stuffy restaurant. With him came Sirius Black, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and... a girl. She was short and pear-shaped, with dark chocolate hair that hung in a bob at her collarbone and bangs that were just short enough to keep from falling into her eyes. Her nose was short and upturned, which clashed awkwardly with her pale, prominent cheekbones and full lips. She was pretty, Samantha concluded, but not the sort of drop-dead-gorgeous that seemed to body-slam a man on sight. This girl was the sort of pretty that a boy had to want to notice.
"Hello, dear!" she held out a hand to the smaller girl. "I'm Sam."
She smiled and took it. Her hands were warm and frail, which made the older girl slightly uncomfortable. She always hated girls who were so small and full of light that they made boys want to protect them on first impression. It was very unnerving to girls like her, who were taller, broader, and bolder. It was unnerving to girls who could handle themselves.
"Lark Riddle," she grinned. "Pleasure to meet you."
James rolled his eyes, stepping between the two girls.
"Sorry, Sam, but we're not speaking to Lark lately. She's a stranger."
"Hey!" Lark protested, whacking his shoulder. "Am not-"
"Are too, Slythers!" he exclaimed. "You cut your hair, forgot my birthday-"
"You never even told me when your birthday was!"
It was too late to object; James was already ticking all of Lark's wrongdoings off finger-by-finger.
"-worked out, didn't visit, didn't write..."
"I was a bit busy," she grumbled, following Sam to the Marauder's usual seats at the bar. "I mean, I had to visit Andromeda and Nymphadora on a weekly basis, not to mention Dumbledore's daily meetings-" she blew a stray piece of hair our of her face exasperatedly as she sat down with a lazy slouch, "I also had to help out around the kitchens to prepare for today's banquet- which, by the way I'm very cross that you think it's okay to skip- and make sure Peeves didn't wreck the place before you all showed up. Y'know, I do have a life outside of you four."
Happily accepting his usual order of one frosted mug of butterbeer, Peter squeezed into the seat next to her and blushed, "Maybe you should lay off, James."
"Yeah, James, don't be an arse," Samantha winked from behind the counter jokingly as she flicked her wand towards the dishes (at which point they all levitated and began simultaneously cleaning themselves) and brushed a strand of curly blonde hair back into a plait at the nape of her neck. "What would you like, Lark?"
"Just a butterbeer, thanks," she smiled graciously. "We should be getting back soon, though, right? I mean, it's bad enough to miss the feast as it is. If we come in past curfew-"
"Relax, Slythers," James grinned boisterously. "I'm a prefect, and prefects-"
"-get all of the same treatments as the Queen of England. Yes, Prongs, you've made that quite clear," Sirius joked, taking the seat on the other side of Lark. "Besides, you can't miss the best part!"
She shook her head at him, fed up with their nonsense, "What best part?"
The grey-eyed boy smirked at her tauntingly, "You'll just have to wait and see!"
"Not fair," she grumbled.
Samantha slid the salt and pepper shakers over the countertop and positioned her elbows over the table so that she and Lark were nose-to-nose, "Trust me, Riddle, it'll be worth it," she whispered.
The smaller girl waited patiently as the rest of the drinks were delivered (cider with just a splash of firewhiskey for Peter, carbonated butterbeer for James, pumpkin juice for Sirius, and hot chocolate for Remus). Samantha seemed nice enough, and Lark was fascinated by the way that she twirled around the pub as though she had every being in the room wrapped around her little finger. It was incredible how she winked at James as though all of his endless thoughts of Lily had dissipated and kissed Peter's temple like he was a tall, handsome fellow (rather a plump schoolboy with rosy cheeks).
"How do you do it?" Lark asked the waitress quietly as she and the Marauders were hurried out into the cobblestone street and warm Autumn air. The girl with light brown freckles sprayed across her nose smiled wordlessly.
"What do you mean?"
"I guess- well, it's like they're forgetting everything. How do you make them do that?"
"Honey, they do that all on their own," Samantha bumped her shoulder knowingly. "All I do is help out a bit, I suppose. They all like a good flirt once and awhile."
The shorter girl squinted at her with confusion, fiddling with her fingers and at the same time keeping a watchful eye on the four boys.
"You barely even look at Sirius, though!"
She pursed her crimson lips and adjusted her apron thoughtfully.
Sam was a frightening sort of beautiful, Lark thought. She was the kind of drop-dead-gorgeous that hit a man square in the jaw and kept him dangling for as long as she pleased. It wasn't her eyes that made her so intimidating, or even her slender figure and wide hazel eyes; it was simply the way that she held herself, as though she was born knowing exactly who she was going to be and how she was going to be that person.
"Lark, Sirius is the sort of person who doesn't need anything fake or pretend in his life," the waitress decided calmly. "That's all this is to me: pretend."
Lark over at her stormy-eyed friend, remembering how he always had a way of flinching when he touched her left arm, how his breath felt on her neck (like every vibrant summer day she'd ever lived compacted into a few moments), and the way he looked at her as though her life was a tempest in a teapot, and he was the only being with enough courage to tend to that teapot.
"I wish I was like you," she decided, "but for real."
Samantha's sweet, understanding smile was long since gone, replaced by a wistful gaze to some far away realm that only she knew of. "Me, too."
Only seconds later, a BOOM rang through Hogsmeade village, echoing through the alley and penetrating the rustling silence that the tourists and shopkeepers in the streets had previously maintained. A single, golden spark shot up into the blackness of the dotted September sky, looming over their heads like the last balloon on the planet finally drifting out into the atmosphere. In a moment, it sprang into an ecstatic eruption of shimmering dust drifting down into the very center of the little gathering of shops. The sparks didn't dissipate, though, and for a moment the group of sixth years and their older friend were frightened that they would be assaulted by flaming ashes. Their fears scattered silently as the golden specks of light floated onto their skin like snowflakes, but warm and welcoming, like kisses from the night sky.
"I told you that this would be worth it," Sirius leaned in to tell her quietly, marveling at the rich flecks that had caught in her midnight eyelashes and hair. She smiled only with the corners of her lips and calmly refrained from turning to look at him. Instead, she tilted her head only a fraction of an inch so that she could see him only out of the corner of her eye and could feel his breath on her cheek comfortingly.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts," she chose her words carefully.
Sirius grinned, swinging his arms around James and Lark. "Welcome back," he agreed.
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A/N: Hey, guys, it's been a little while! How are you liking the sequel so far?
XOXO,
Rose