Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome to In Perputuum, another story of mine. It will follow as a series of one-shots of unrelated characters. I welcome ideas about characters and will mention you in your requested one-shot. Reviews are helpful and other than this, please enjoy!**

**For my readers of More than Enemies, More than Friends, I apologize for the strange hiatus. You see, I am currently finishing it and will post in the near future. I would like to have a chapter posted with the next one already finished. Again, I apologize but hope you will be able to find patience. **

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Chapter 1

Character(s): Sirius Black

Contrary to common belief, Sirius Black did _not _snog every Ravenclaw sixth-and-seventh year girl in his fourth year. He did not sneak about the school with Posy Cooper during the Christmas Holidays, who would soon titter on of false nothings. And above all things, Sirius Black was not, nor would ever be, the record holder for breaking an abominable number of girls' hearts.

Sure, these ridiculous notions made for a great laugh with the other Marauders. James even got a kick out of the one involving Sirius and a Hufflepuff "finding" the broom closet on the third floor. Yeah, sure, Sirius Black was desperately in love with Posy. So in love, he broke it off to protect her from unknown reasons. Or Emilia MacClivert. Charlotte Edgecombe. That pretty Gryffindor bird a year above him with the soft skin and golden curls. Truth be told, he was incredibly embarrassed. One minute, he's an innocent fourth year and the next thing he knows, he's a player with beautiful women throwing themselves at him. Sirius knew he was good-looking; it wasn't knowledge out of pride or narcissism. Rather, from unhappily realizing the Black family would always carry incredibly attractive traits: the piercing grey eyes framed by dark lashes; shining hair that fell with a casual elegance; perfect posture and above all, confidence that you were born with. He hated himself for it. Maybe Bella-no, _not Bella_, Bellatrix and Narcissa flaunted their good genes, but he was no peacock. That probably explained Narcissa's unexplainable romancing with Lucius Malfoy.

Girls would whisper suggestive slights and giggle nervously when he met their eyes. It made him uncomfortable, which was often mistaken for a flirty smolder. His pale cheeks would flush with embarrassment and his shoulders tensed. For Agrippa's sake, he wanted to scream! He was only a fourth year who loved pranking, needed a miracle to pass Transfiguration, and hadn't even kissed a girl, much less...no. He wouldn't even think of it in his head. He was only Sirius Orion Black, the unfortunate Black to be Sorted in the worst of Houses. But even this spun a deceiving tale of teenage rebellion and forbidden love.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Character(s): Sirius Black, Marlene McKinnon

"Every has beauty, but not everyone sees it." Those brilliants words by Confucius echoed in Marlene McKinnon's mind as she yet again took another look at the unattainable Gryffindor boy sprawled on the common room floor. She knew full well that if she didn't finish her research on the properties of moonstone now, she would never do it. But once again, Sirius Black entered her mind as if he had the key all along. Marlene peeked at him again through her unruly curtain of hair. He was still lying on the floor, this time swishing his wand absentmindedly. Every now and then, he would run a hand over his scars, of which he still refused to tell her how he got them. Scars so white they popped out against his already marble skin. He _was _marble; quiet and alluring, so inviting but could swallow any bit of warmth...all an act...poppycock...

_He's the tide that pulls the sand in for a passionate embrace, only to push it away; the rose so protected by thorns, souls could not even break through; so scared of grabbing hold but so scared of letting go; a butterfly._ A voice whispered in the back of her mind. Marlene adored poetry and had a horrid habit of writing down her thoughts on her forearms, so it wasn't a surprise to see black ink dotted across her skin.

"Merlin's flabby cheeks," she muttered, furious at herself. What was she doing, letting herself melt away in his presence? Sirius would notice and assume she was another ditsy bimbo, just disguised under the pretense of being a levelheaded friend. She saw how that ridiculous load of gossip got under his skin. She always reminded herself that he wasn't indestructible. He _was a dandelion_, she sometimes realized. One blow, and he would be gone. When Sirius realized Marlene didn't worship the ground at his feet (she was only attracted for friendship, she told herself firmly), he welcomed her friendship and let his guard down. Many nights, when they were alone in the common room, he would tell her how humiliated he felt...to be nothing more than a plaything in everyone's eyes...the gorgeous Sirius Black...nothing more, nothing less. He said this bitterly, his jaw trembling in anger. His reaction was nothing that Marlene had ever imagined. Most boys would drool at the thought of mesmerizing every female at Hogwarts. But Sirius was different. He respected himself and others. He was a gentleman.

But secretly, she thought with a poetic lilt, he was more than gorgeous. He was the spitting image of beauty, inside and out. The more she got to know him, the more she needed to know. Of his brave rebellion against his parents, a cause for pure-blood mania that lived far longer than he had. Of his loyalty to his friends, the cheeky Marauders. Of his love for Muggle bands and motorbikes. He was beautiful in a way that Marlene felt that she, and she alone, understood. No one deserved such a boy. So yes, Sirius Black was unattainable. Marlene pondered over this revelation, unaware that the object of her musings had slowly crept up on her, with a mischievous grin in tow.

"Admiring the view, Marly?" He said jokingly, wiggling his eyebrows at her. Of course. Sirius thought she was joking.

Marlene rolled her eyes and hastily glanced at her forearms. Oh no. They were covered in even more of her ramblings. Lines like _dandelions fly by, each petal showering me in his memory _and _let me under(stand) you _and _I would follow him to even his cliff _were added. Before she could cover her arms with her sweater, Sirius furrowed his brow and grabbed her arms. Marlene stifled a gasp and feigned calmness. "If you would please, I would like to have my arms back."

He appeared not to have heard her. "Seems like someone's in love, Marly." He looked up with amusement in his eyes. "The lines aren't half-bad."

She couldn't breathe. She was losing her mind, letting _her _guard down. "'Beauty is not caused. It is,'" she quoted Emily Dickinson, a favorite Muggle poet of hers. _Damn it Marlene! What in Merlin's pants are you doing? He'll get the wrong idea and ignore you...and...and..._

Thankfully, Sirius hadn't paid too much attention to it. "I like your poetry. It's nice. But try and get some sleep, Marly. You look so tired. Don't let the world make you hold it by yourself." He got up and slowly, hesitantly, gave her a kiss on her forehead. Marlene hadn't registered his footsteps moving slowly up to the boys' dormitories. She hadn't registered his whistling of a Muggle tune he loved (was it by the Beagles? Or the Beatles?). All she registered was a pair of warm lips that lovingly touched her skin. She looked down at her parchment. She definitely wouldn't be completing it tonight.

"Crap."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, presently or past, as his world solely belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

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Chapter 3

Character(s): Molly Weasley (nee Prewett), Arthur Weasley

"Mollywobbles, are you almost ready-"

"Arthur, do you think I'm fat?"

"_What?_ Molly, why on earth would you even ponder the thought?" It was true, Molly Prewett (_Weasley_, she reminded herself) thought miserably. She looked herself over in the mirror. All she could see was an immensely round figure covered in an unflattering blue dress. She could see every flaw on her body. Sunburned skin. Huge eyes framed by sleep lines. Tangled, matted red hair. Her pear figure. Everything that could have possibly went wrong just managed to. Today was supposed to be perfect. Now she would ruin Arthur with her-her-her ugliness. She couldn't even bear to look at him in the eye.

She sighed and sat on the chair next to her mirror. It was January of 1970, eight months since they graduated from Hogwarts. Arthur had proposed to her at King's Cross station, unable to wait any longer, for fear of getting washed away in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's reign of terror. Molly couldn't believe her ears and had engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug. She couldn't remember a time when she had been happier.

Her insecurities began on her wedding day, when it was just herself, her mother, various female cousins, and the dreaded Aunt Muriel in a small "powder room." Her wedding dress had arrived and Molly felt beautiful just spinning around in it. It was white, with a flowing skirt and a sweetheart neckline. Little silver roses were scattered across the skirt and mimicked the slight movements of a garden in motion. Minimal makeup was applied, to touch up the amber flecks in her eyes and to bring out the rosiness of her cheeks. That red mop she called "hair" was softly put into an elegant updo with tendrils springing from each side. Mrs. Prewett had cried of joy and pronounced her "the most beautiful bride in the Wizarding World." Aunt Muriel even lent Molly her goblin tiara, but suspiciously stayed quiet in the background...until:

"Molly, don't you think the dress highlights your midsection a bit _too _well? I mean, look at this fold!" Mrs. Prewett began shushing Muriel and ordered her out of the room. But the damage had been done. Molly's innocent eyes wandered over to her midsection. Aunt Muriel was right; she could see the beginnings of pudge form around her stomach. It hurt to realize that she was right; especially after studying her cousins' pixie-like waistlines. "Molly, dear, you're perfect no matter what batty Aunt Muriel says. Do you understand me?"

She knew her mother wouldn't let this go unless she answered, "Of course, Mother. I know, I know."

Molly hadn't realized tears were forming until her beloved Arthur sat down on the floor to be level with her(he was quite tall) and wiped her tears softly. "When I was in my fourth year at Hogwarts, I began to notice girls a bit more often. There were girls with long legs; girls with short legs; long, short torsos; curly hair or straight. I never imagined such a diverse mix! Soon, I became disgusted with some of them. Do you remember Emmeline Vance?"

Startled, Molly replied, "Yes, I do."

"Well, she, er, pursued me for quite a while. She was the object of many boys' affection, particularly for her slim figure. Oh, yes," he smiled as Molly snorted. "But Emmeline never quite attracted _my _affections. I always found her slim figure to be scary. I could see her bones, for Merlin's sake!

"Molly, I was already in love with you by my fifth year. You were short-well, still are-, had such a pretty face, and I didn't care about your figure. Everyday I'm amazed at what I could have done to deserve such luck. My tongue gets twisted when I'm nervous and I'm usually nervous because I'm tall and gangly and I don't want to make a fool of myself in front of you. Don't ask me whether I think you're fat or not! Ask me whether you're kind, loving, incredibly witty..." His voice lowered and he gave Molly a gentle kiss. She smiled in spite of it.

"You really think so?" Molly got up and looked in the mirror. Now, she didn't see any flaws. All she saw was a happy, smiling woman with an adorable husband standing behind her. He put his arm around her and asked jokingly, "Are you ready now for our date, Mollywobbles?"


End file.

Harry Potter, Drama, Romance