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Finding Out About A Little Thing Called Love by JamesSiriusPotterII
Chapter 4 : Sleeping Troubles and Sorting Out Handcuff Issues with HER
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 4

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4) Sleeping Troubles and Sorting Out Handcuff Issues with HER

 A/N: I bit of serious (Sirius!) stuff in this! Enjoy ^_^

An awkward silence had filled the room. Mayfield’s face was expressionless, Wormtail was looking at the ground sheepishly, Prongs was looking like Christmas had come early and Moony looked defeated and tired as hell.  I hated silence. It was filled with tension, and not incredibly sunny disposition sadly. “So, I found this awesome joke the other day! It was like, why did Merlin take the Knight Bus?” I grinned, and everyone turned to look at me incredulously. Sheesh, it was actually a good joke.


“So, got any ideas of what to do?” asked Mayfield, looking miserably at the handcuffs once more. At least one thing we agreed on- those handcuffs were a pair of bitches.


No one answered, but then Moony piped up, the always practical one. Knew I could rely on you mate!


He can’t here you.


What. The. Hell. Are. You. Doing. Back. Here?


I told you I find it flipping cosy- so deal with it, mate.


Fine poop.


You called a voice, in your brain, a poop.


Uh huh. What are you going to do about it?


“Oi, Black!” shouted a voice identical to the one in my head’s, that broke me out of my reverie. “Did ya catch a word of that?” I scratched the back of my neck, sheepishly, and she rolled her eyes, though I swear a hint of a smile was on her face.


“What I was saying,” resumed Moony, “was that Mayfield can sleep in the boys dorm tonight and you two can go to see Professor McGonagall in the morning about it.” I cringed.


“I have to still stay attached to her for that night?”


“Trust me Black, I’m not exactly jumping with joy at the idea either,” grumbled Mayfield. “I mean I have to sleep with you!” The Marauders (including myself) went completely silent at the statement- you have to admit, it sounds wrong. “I mean, it was enough having to duel with our wands just a few days ago…” Oh dear. She was doing rubbish at trying to defend herself, making herself sound more perverted by the second. Shockingly, she wasn’t blushing. Was she some kind of robot? “Oh, who cares, you know what I mean- another bird for Black to shag,” she grinned, winking, and I was stunned. It took me by surprise- I thought she was the whiny, groaning type- not one to make a joke out of things. She kept surprising me every day…


“First Quidditch practice tomorrow, Saturday, 5am- that fits in with everybody!” exclaimed Prongs, and he had the decency to look embarrassed when everyone looked at him incredulously. Trust Prongs to be thinking of Quidditch. “Well, chop chop! You and Padfoot better be up in time!”


“How are we going to inform the rest of the team?” asked Mayfield curiously.


“Oh Mayfield! I can’t believe I forgot. I gave one to Martin the other day even though we see Mayfield more! God Padfoot! As deputy captain you should remind me of these things…” he sighed, and my eyes widened in realization.


“Sorry,” I grinned while Mayfield looked stunned and Prongs took her hand and began using his wand to draw along her life line.


“What the hell do you think you’re doing Potter?” she muttered, examining her hand as Prongs put a few more spells on it.


“Done!” he remarked. I smirked as Mayfield winced; the last spell carving the word in permanently. ‘Gryffie’. Prongs winked at me, before pressing his own tattoo-resembling mark, and I my face contorted as a sting went through my hand. As sad as it may sound, we got the idea from the Death Eaters method of communicating. Voldemort could easily press the dark mark on his own hand and gather all his followers- Gryffindor Quidditch was serious business. As serious as my name. Get it? If you don’t, get out.


Immediately I heard loud footsteps scampering down and soon enough Martin (the newbie 4th year chaser); Marcus (the 6th year keeper); Tom Headlington (the 5th year chaser) and Joe Pocatelli (the 3rd year seeker) were gathered with Prongs, Mayfield and I in the common room, along with Peter and Remus. It was quite comical, considering how they were all in their nightwear. Little Joe had little ducks all over his! I want some of them. Maybe Gladrags has them in stock…


“Alright team, practice at 5am tomorrow,” beamed Prongs cheerfully, and this was met by a series of groans.


“Suck it up, guys, it’s not as if he’ll cancel the practice if you’re whining. He’s a true Quidditch Nazi,” I piped up, and everyone nodded in agreement. Prongs looked at me confused.


“Was that a compliment or an insult?”


“To be honest, I don’t know mate,” I replied truthfully, and we grinned at each other.


“So, yeah, see you at 5am!” And with that, the team left, carrying themselves slowly up each step.


“Why were they so quick in coming down, but so slow in going up?” questioned Mayfield. I snorted.


“Remember when the whole of the Gryffindor Quidditch team wasn’t sighted for the whole day?” She nodded. “That was because Mr. Quidditch-Is-My-Life decided to make us practice all day because they weren’t quick enough in responding to ‘The Call’ as he likes to name it,” I explained and Mayfield laughed.


“Only you Prongs, only you,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. We all looked at her, shocked. She had used our nicknames- no one outside the Marauders has ever used the nicknames before. It’s because no one ever knew how they came about; what if she…? No, she couldn’t! Smarter people than her haven’t guessed, and she doesn’t even know us that well. She began stuttering. “Oh… oh I’m sorry! I didn’t… mean to use it… you, know.” Prongs smiled at her.


“It’s alright, mate. I don’t mind.” I looked at him dumbfounded. He just let her use the nickname! Just like that! “It’s alright- isn’t it Padfoot?” I gritted my teeth and nodded. Silly boy. “So we should head off to bed now! Need you to be up and ready at 5am, Mayfield and Padfoot!”


“How could we forget?” snorted Mayfield, and I laughed, as Prongs huffed and stormed up the stairs.  Mayfield winked at me, and we followed him up to the seventh year boys dorms.


Now, you see, discovering Mayfield was a girl and all, I thought she would be horrified by the state of our dorms- Moony is every time he walks past mine and Prongs’ bed. But, no, she simply kicked off her shoes and jumped on my bed, wrenching my arm and nearly pulling it out of its socket.




She. Jumped. On. My. Bed.


“Hello! What d’ya think you’re doing, Mayfield?” She was twiddling with her thumbs, facing the ceiling.


“Lying. On a bed,” she deadpanned, looking at me directly in the eye. I can see that much thank you very much! “Oh, I get it. I’m stuck with the floor- floor it is!” With that, she literally, rolled off the bed, again pulling my arm and nearly twisting it. I’m not even joking. If I wasn’t so concerned for her sanity, I’d probably laugh at how stupid she looked when she landed on her backside. And moan with pain from my arm.


“Did that not hurt?” I asked shocked. She looked as if she was pondering it for a moment, before shrugging and shaking her head.


“Not really.”


“Freak,” I whispered, but she heard me and simply grinned back.


“Be a gentleman, Padfoot, let her take the bed,” advised Moony, politely and Mayfield and I snorted at the same time.


“No thank you. I’d rather take the floor, than be treated like a lady. Sorry Moony,” laughed Mayfield, and we looked at her confusedly but in amusement as well.


“Anyways, goodnight,” he muttered, before disappearing behind his hangings. Wormtail and Prongs had previously gone off to bed, and I pulled the hangings shut around my own bed (along with the piles of clothes, books and food around it). Mayfield had now stood up and was using her right arm, the non-attached one and most likely her wand arm, to do some odd spells on my hangings.


“What the hell are you doing Mayfield?” I asked, dumbly, just staring at her put all sorts of weird enchantments on my bed hangings. She sighed deeply, and having finished, put her wand on the side table, then sat herself onto the bed, making me do the same.


“This is going to make me sound like some mental patient at St. Mungo’s, but I talk and do stuff in my sleep.”


I shrugged dismissively. “That’s completely normal.”


“Okay, Black, I’m going to have to tell you a lot of things, that you have to promise not to tell a soul.” I nodded, not making a sound, as she cast a Muffliato charm on the hangings. “I do whatever I really wish to do in my sleep. I talk a lot, I may tell you some things I would never tell anyone. I went to see a Healer about it in St. Mungo’s and he said it’s something about a build up of stress has caused me to pent out what I won’t in day at night. Also, I may ask you to do things, try to ignore them, but sometimes apparently I am very persistent so do what you have to within reason.” I strongly resembled a goldfish at this point. This is a lot for one guy to take in!


“It does make you sound like a mental patient,” I blurted out. Oh my Merlin. Out of all the things I could have said…


She glared at me, and I smiled sheepishly. A smile which she returned- good stuff!


“Goodnight,” she said, before lying on the floor with a cushion, and I felt a light tug on my arm from her sleeping on the floor and me on the bed. A surge of guilt went through me for making her sleep on the floor, but then she did say so herself, she didn’t mind. I took off my shirt, one handedly, and kept the tracksuit bottoms on- my usual nightwear.


I whispered a goodnight in reply, not knowing how eventful the night was going to be…




I had barely gone to sleep, when I groggily opened my eyes to find Mayfield standing beside me. Except it wasn’t the Mayfield I was used to. This one hadn’t covered all the emotion in her eyes, to leave a blank colour. Her eyes were filled with every kind of emotion known to man and everything was so much more relaxed. Her finger were less tense, making them look more slender rather than bony and a faint smile was on her lips.


“Snuffles?” she whispered, staring wide eyed at me with those huge brown orbs and I gulped. The topic of ‘snuffles’ had come up again. I nodded slowly in reply. “It’s hard on the ground. Plus, its tugging on my arm- I don’t like it,” she sniffed, and I was utterly confused as to where this going. “Could I sleep with you, on your bed? I promise I won’t be a nuisance.” My mouth dropped open. She wanted to sleep in the same bed as me? I was about to firmly reject, as would be obvious, but I looked at her once again. She resembled a child who was burdened with all the sorrows in the world, and you’d feel it was a crime to not give them what they wanted.


“Sure, come on in,” I replied, pulling up the blankets.


“Wait, first I need to take my hoodie off. It’s far too warm,” she explained, and I nodded understandingly. Well, that was until I realised she couldn’t take it off herself with one hand. “Help me?” I smiled, and helped her take it off, and my eyes widened at the sight underneath. She was wearing a thin, small tank top, that left hardly anything to imagination. I mean it wasn’t slutty, as no doubt she would never take off her hoodie, until night time but still- it wasn’t something you’d expect of a girl like Mayfield.


She beamed at me so brightly, you’d think I’d solved every single problem of her life and gave her eternal happiness just by helping her take her hoodie off. Her eyes were twinkling, even though they were so dark and they were filled with a joy that I could not comprehend as she slid under the covers. I turned around, expecting she would face the other side so we were back to back, but that was not the plan apparently.


I felt a warm arm wrap around my bare stomach, shooting tingles down my skin. She had placed her head on the back of my neck, and I could feel hot breath on the top of my back that made my spine curl.


“Sirius, please face me,” she breathed in my ear. I am a hormonal 17 year old male! She cannot expect to completely control myself if I face her. But I did face her. And control myself. Her brown eyes penetrated deep into my own grey eyes, as if she was examining my soul. She quickly snapped her gaze from my eyes, and buried her head in my chest.


“You know Sirius, my mum doesn’t love me,” began Mayfield, and my eyes widened in shock. Was she spilling her secrets already? And what was she on about? “She only uses me as a trophy child,” she continued, ignoring my inner panicking that was quite evident. “That’s why I always try hard- to impress her. But she’s never impressed; nothings good enough. Why doesn’t she love me?” Her eyes were filled with despair, and I couldn’t help but just place a light kiss on her forehead and hug her tightly.


“You should go to bed, Ma… Alex,” I suggested softly, and she gave a slight nod, her breath heating the top of my chest. I breathed deeply. Seems Mayfield wasn’t as simple as I had thought.




I woke up, to the joyful sound of my alarm clock, with my arm around someone. I could detect some curves so it was a girl- that was a relief; I mean I don’t have anything against gays, but... Wait; there was a girl in my bed. Now can you keep a secret?


Who are you asking?


What are you doing in my head Mayfield-voice?! And I am asking… you. Can you keep a secret?


I guess. Considering no one can hear me apart from you.


Yeah, yeah, I forgot your sarcasm.


Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.


So you’re calling yourself non-witty? Ha!


It was sarcasm you idiot.



I am confused. But continuing, Sirius Black, hunky most wanted boy in Hogwarts, is a virgin. Now, you may be thinking, but why does everyone think he’s the ultimate playboy then? Well, some of his conquests (only till snogging), are a bit desperate for more and would completely tarnish my reputation if he didn’t give them what they want. It sounds sick, but it’s true. He’s also going to stop talking in the third person when referring to himself cause it sounds weird. So I discovered a charm, that would instill into the thoughts of my snog buddy for the day, that I had done it with them. And it’s worked like a charm so far! Get the pun? Worked like a charm? No? Pity.


However, right now I’m contemplating the fact that I might have slept with someone in the haste of the moment! I looked down at myself and her, and breathed a sigh of relief. We were both clothed.


So why was she in my bed?


Then everything came back to me. The handcuffs, the bickering and what she had said before I had slept.


She groggily opened her eyes, and I quickly shut mine, after realising I had been staring at her.


“Oi, Black. You’re not asleep, get up,” she groaned, tugging fiercely on the arm handcuffed to hers, making me let out a small yelp in pain.


“Git,” I muttered furiously, while massaging my shoulder. She shrugged me off, too tired, I believe, to take offense.


“Don’t we have to see McGonagall before practice?” she grumbled. I smacked my left hand to my face (the one without the handcuff attached to it), and groaned. “Anyways, we better get ready. I’ll go to the toilet first…”


She began walking towards the bathroom pulling me in tow. I was following as well, but we both abruptly stopped at the same time when we were just in front of the door.


“You’re not coming in with me.”


“I’m not going in with you.”


We said this in unison, and both of us glared at each other.


“We could try stretching our arm across?” she suggested but I shook my head.


“Toilets are too far off.”


“So,” she gulped, “you have to come in?” My face contorted into one of disgust, and I reluctantly nodded. “Alright let’s get this over with. This never gets spoken of, O.K.?” she confirmed, and I hurriedly nodded. This was one of the most embarrassing situations in my life. This talking the guy who got caught snogging a girl senseless by Professor McGonagall. Let’s just say it was downright awkward.


We both took a deep breath in and step inside the bathroom.


“I’ll go first then I guess,” muttered Mayfield, and I snapped around to face the opposite way. I couldn’t see anything, and did not wish to, even with a giant load of testosterone running through me, but it was still unnerving to know someone was pissing behind you. Especially, since it could be heard. This is not an experience I would ever like to repeat in my lifetime.


“Your turn,” she mumbled, and I took a slight peek to make sure she was done, before fully turning around. After making sure that I was not in Mayfield’s eyesight, I slowly pulled down my trackees and began weeing. It’s kind of stupid to be honest. I’ve never had to think so hard in a trip to the toilet.


My eyes kept a firm watch on Mayfield, though I was 99% sure she wouldn’t turn around. Her hair had fallen out of its tie during the night (or I might have taken it out) so her black hair was flowing like a river down her back. She was still only wearing a tank top, meaning I had a perfect view of her bare lower back. So smooth…


“Black, you done yet?” asked Mayfield courageously- it was a heavily awkward question to ask. It pulled me out of me reverie though. A reverie about Mayfield… Don’t worry Sirius, it’s just because you haven’t seen her wear her glasses and school uniform recently and you haven’t had a good snog in the last few days.


“Oh, yes, just one minute,” I replied, hurriedly pulling up my trousers. “Done.” She smiled uncomfortably at me, and we made our way to the sinks to wash our hands.


“Thank god we never have to do that again,” she grimaced, and I nodded in agreement. I was going to be glad when McGonagall would get us out of these stupid things.




“What do you mean you can’t fix this?” I yelled, Mayfield standing up with me.


“Professor McGonagall, please have some consideration. It’s Black, we’re talking about here!”


“She’s such a party pooper! And goody two shoes! I can’t live with goody two shoes!


“ENOUGH!” shouted McGonagall, successfully silencing both of us. “Come with me.” We followed her down the familiar route from her office to Dumbledore’s office.


“Acid Pops,” replied McGonagall curtly to the gargoyles, and we greeted by the falcon and moving staircase that led us up to the magical office of Dumbledore. It was filled with odd telescopes, devices, magical objects and more, and I had grown to it over the years.


“Ah, Mr. Black, lovely to see you here again. Miss. Mayfield, what a pleasant surprise! Care for a Sugar Quill?” I grinned and nodded, snatching one especially sugary one off the top, and Mayfield, shockingly, took one as well, following my lead. Though perhaps she took it more politely than I did. “Minerva, please excuse us.”


“But, Albus-“


“I think I know what the problem is,” he smiled calmly, eyes twinkling and flickering down to the pink handcuffs. I let out a breath I didn’t know that I was holding; he could solve it as well! Albus Dumbledore can do anything- thank Merlin he is our headmaster.


McGonagall nodded, and left the room. Dumbledore addressed us and began.


“Now, I am presuming you both are here to remove these handcuffs that Mr. Pettigrew had put on you?” I nodded eagerly, and spotted Mayfield doing the same out the corner of my eye. “You see, I had taken the key, afraid Mr. Pettigrew may lose the key.” He had the key! Everything was going to be fine! “However, the key does not just work like that.” Oh dear. “I can easily unlock the lock, but the part about these handcuffs, that makes them a wizard product, is that once they’re unlocked they do not simply come off. The magical part of it keeps them held together until both the two with the handcuffs joining them do something. Would you mind if I gave you a bit of a history lesson?” I was about to object, but Mayfield got before me.


“Not at all, Sir.”


“Thank you- it won’t be long, I promise. I know you have Quidditch practice, and Mr. Potter would not be happy if his two beaters turned up late. Early this century or late 19th century many people were going through the process of divorce- a different way to Muggle divorce or breaking up with their partners. Feuds were resulting and most did not cherish wizarding marriage as they had done before. Then, they would realise their mistakes and realise they love that person who they left, but because of a moment of haste they never got their love back. A peacemaker wizard had a fabulous idea, though highly controversial- to make handcuffs that would never unlock unless, I quote, ‘the wizard or witch do not need the handcuffs to stay together no longer.’ Many relationships were saved, but the man never gave a way to make it before he died, so few are left in perfect condition- that is what case we have right here.” I was stunned, and was stiff as a board. Mayfield seemed to not respond and was expressionless.


“So… I have to fall in love with Mayfield to get this handcuffs off?” I confirmed incredulously. Dumbledore let out a light chuckle.


“Of course not. That was not the condition was it? It simply means, you two will have to be with each other at all times, not necessarily physically, without needing the handcuffs. You two will have to resemble a relationship of yours with Mr. Potter, Mr. Black.” I nodded slowly, dumbfounded. How was this going to work? Mayfield and I could not become like that- never in a million years! As if he could read my mind, Dumbledore replied to my inner turmoil. “If it’s any consolation, the handcuffs will unlock just with the key if you two are not suitable for this request.” Fabulous! Of course we’re not. Mayfield and I? Always by each others sides? Never.


He put the key in the lock, and I eagerly awaited my freedom, but when he turned it and the lock made the familiar click of unlocking it didn’t open. I saw Mayfield gaping at me, and my expression probably mirrored hers. We’re in deep shit now.


A/N: Ooo, what’s going to happen now?



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