Chapter 2
Scene I, Lily
In Lily’s opinion, Professor Montgomery is a dick. He’s intense, abrasive, and his methods veer on the side of psychological torment. Since first year many of them have suspected he chooses eight am time-slots just to catch them off guard. James is sure he wouldn’t do something so cruel, but Lily could see it.
At least his classroom is comfortable. Blankets and beanbag chairs are scattered around the room in front of a makeshift wooden stage with dim lighting and two windows overlooking the rest of campus. There’s a coffee station in the left corner with an assortment of colourful mismatched mugs for them to choose from. Lily tends to habit towards a deep blue mug with the words, And like the theatre says, I will go on.
Her and the others stumble in one after the other, making the only kind of conversation one can at an early hour, which is none. Barty is the last to arrive, looking rumpled like he just rolled out of bed, only stopping long enough to put sunglasses on.
Five after eight, Montgomery arrives. His grey-blonde hair in spikes, and thick sunglasses perched on his forehead. He always dresses like a hippie, but the purple scarf left loose around his neck really does fool first years into thinking he’s the ‘laid back’ professor. Those students don’t tend to last long.
“On your feet!” He claps, rings clanking and way too bright a smile on his face. Sirius groans and even James looks resentful at the request.
Lily stands, kicking Marlene—who’s sitting next to her, in the shin to do the same.
“Look at the lot of you, it’s the first day! Where’s your spirit!”
“You killed it in third year professor,” Remus smiles acidly. He’s always hated Montgomery, and hates that he’s still required to take his classes despite his major being English, not Shakespeare. Lily teases him about how he shouldn’t have chosen a theatre minor, which he always responds with something vague about ‘needing to understand words in action and not just as a text.’
“Well, get it back because this year I’m not going to be so easy on you.”
“Easy?” Marlene groans.
“Yes, easy,” Montgomery smiles wickedly. “C’mon, you know the drill. Clear the area.”
The others reluctantly move, pushing the comfortable chairs to the side in favour of a yoga warmup—which is what they spend the first thirty minutes of the two hour class doing every week.
For a man in his sixties he’s way to excited about exercise; and has no regard for the fact that they spend hours on end sitting in the library hunched over books. There’s no time to keep up with his insane expectations of working out every day.
Finally, after it feels like her backs been twisted every which way and her blood is pounding in her ears, Montgomery sighs. “Alright, take your seats. We’ve got a lot to get through today.”
They’re quicker at pulling their respective beanbag chairs back, all a little wary of what he might be about to put them through and perhaps a little excited.
“Can’t be any worse than the time he made me stand in a bucket of ice water and recite Lady Macbeths Act One speech.” Marlene whispers.
“Don’t give him any ideas,” Sirius grumbles rubbing his nose from when he fell during the plank.
“Until now, I’ve been easy on you,” Montgomery exclaims. “While Mcgonigall sits you down and tells you stories, I am in charge of discovering who has the guts to stand on this stage,” he gestures out to all of them. “And you guys, you’re the ones that do. But that’s not enough anymore. What do you think that means?” He meets their eyes, watching for their reaction before he continues. “Regulus, what is our biggest obstacle to a good performance.”
“Fear.”
“Correct. Fear of what? Remus.”
“Vulnerability.”
“Yes, indeed. An actor can only play half a character. That makes the rest us, and if we don’t show people who we are…” He lets them sit with it, turning to the board and writing the words weaknesses and strengths, divided by a line in the middle. “This is Shakespeare, folks. Passion is irresistible. Anger is rage. Hopelessness is compelling. So today,” he claps. Loud. Barty sits up like he’d been falling asleep. “We banish the fear.”
Fuck.
“Every week, one of you is going to stand up here and name your strengths as an actor, and your weaknesses—no holding back. We’re getting all of the ugliness out for the world to see. Because they will see it, but only you get the privilege of embracing it.” He grins, looking at them expectedly. “So, who’s first.”
“I’ll go.” Lily says when no one else volunteers. Not only because she wants to get this over with, but because if there’s anyone she trusts to pick her apart and point out all the pieces of her she hates—sorting them, discarding them, shaping them into treasure—it’s the people in this room.
Marlene still looks at her like she’s crazy.
“The floor is yours Ms. Evans,” Montgomery bows as she steps onto the stage and he takes a seat with all the others.
“Now,” he continues. “Breathe.”
Lily does, taking a deep breath in through her nose, letting it fill her whole body, and exhales, letting go.
Of control, of pride, of dignity. None exist on the stage.
“Are you ready?”
Lily nods.
“What is your greatest strength as a performer.”
“I think—“
“Not think,” Montgomery corrects her. “What is.”
“I’m smart,” she juts her chin out. Owning it like he wants. “I know what I’m doing and I’m dedicated.”
“Almost.”
Lily grits her teeth. The others watch her expectedly. “I’ve worked hard to get here and it shows. Anyone can be a good actor, but not everyone knows what it’s like to work for it. And that comes through in the characters I play. I’ve never forgotten a line, and I can play that off as arrogance, or charm, because I’ve earned both.”
“Fuck yeah Evans!” Sirius hollers. She tries and fails not to smile.
“There we are. That was honest,” Montgomery applauds. “Now, what about your weaknesses.” Lily doesn’t say anything at first, pondering. He must mistake this as stubbornness because he goes on, “everyone has them Evans. Out with it. What are you afraid of.”
The others watch her, now nervous. It’s not uncommon for people to snap in his classes. “I’m afraid,” she starts, speaking evenly and deliberately. “That on my quest of being perfect, I didn’t learn what I need to be good. To be human—and I don’t try to be. I let perfection get in the way of whatever tries to fill my life with anything good. Because good isn’t perfect.”
This time, nobody claps. Instead a mixture of pity and concern form on their faces; except for Mary, who’s looking at her with sheer knowing. It gnaws at Lily’s skin, makes the room shrink until it’s just the two of them. She’s been feeling that a lot since they came back. It hurts almost as much as being away from her.
“Now you’ve got it,” Montgomery nods. “Let’s begin.”
Scene II, Remus
They spend the full two hour class picking Lily apart. She takes it well as they dissect her strengths. James comments on her quick temper being a catalyst for her portrayal of Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing. Everyone praises her performance in last years fall production of The Taming Of The Shrew for the same reason. Even with her temper, she keeps her head cool under pressure, making her a fantastic scene partner on stage. But when they move to her weaknesses, the class is hesitant.
“Come on, guys,” Montgomery drawls, watching them all with an aloof disappointment. “In these walls you’re not friends, you’re colleagues. Act like it.”
James hesitantly raises his hand, “I just—I’ve noticed that you don’t bring any of yourself into your roles.”
“What does that mean?” Lily asks, crossing her arms.
“The best acting comes from bringing yourself into the role, not creating the role from scratch,” James explains.“You’re a perfectionist, but these characters—like people—are flawed.”
Lily shifts uncomfortably, but before she can respond Barty cuts in.
“I dunno, I think Lily brings herself into the role just fine.”
“Something tells me that’s not a compliment,” Lily retorts.
“C’mon, you know what I mean,” Barty gestures to her.
“No, actually, I don’t.”
Barty glances around, sitting up in his seat when he realizes everyone is watching him. “I just think you’re never going to be able to pull off roles like Juliet or Ophelia unless you tone it down a bit.”
Remus watches Lily’s eyes blaze for a split second before she gets herself back under control. Before she can respond Evan cuts in. “I think what Barty is trying to say is you’re a very strong actress, so when there’s a softer character it clashes with your strengths.”
“A lot of implementing that is superficial. Speaking softer, or standing differently,” Marlene adds. Remus know’s she’s trying to be helpful, but Lily only scowls.
“Actually I disagree,” James pipes in.
“Why’s that?” Montgomery asks curiously.
James fiddles with his pen, “I—well, Evan’s right, you are a strong actress, in all senses of the word. Last year, your performance as Goneril was remarkable. She was vicious, and powerful. But we didn’t really get to see the pain underneath her actions. How she became the way she is. You were right when you said you don’t often explore your humanity in a role, but I don’t think it’s because you can’t. I think it’s because you don’t want the audience to see it.”
“What do you think of that Lily?” Montgomery asks.
“He’s probably right,” Lily shrugs. She masks it well, but Remus knows this whole thing is getting under her skin.
When the bell finally rings, Lily’s the first one out, and Remus takes it upon himself to gather her stuff, slinging it over his shoulder with his own, praying it’ll stay there as he grips his cane and makes his way out of the room.
He finds her sitting on the bench near the parking lot. “Wanna go for a drive?” He offers, startling her slightly.
“We have McGonagall’s class in an hour.”
Remus sits beside her. “Nobody would judge you for taking it off.”
“I would.”
“I know, but humour me?”
She bites her lip, considering. “Fine. But were going to Novak’s.”
“Deal,” Remus grins.
Novak’s is a tea & sandwich shop about a ten minute drive from campus. Remus loves it because it’s the only damn place he can actually get accessible parking spots, but it helps that their food is the best in town.
“So,” he says as they sit down at a booth, “that was intense.”
Lily sniffs, looking out the window. “Felt like home actually.”
Remus tenses, Lily barely brings up her family. He knows she has a sister, and that she’s from middle-of-nowhere Ontario, but that’s about it. He doesn’t even know her parents names.
“The worst part is I know he was right,” Lily continues.
“Who?”
“Barty. I don’t think I’ll get the role of Juliet. I don’t.…fit like that. I can’t play the softer characters.”
“That’s not a weakness,” Remus argues, “if anything that’s what makes you stand out here.”
Lily rolls her eyes.
“I’m serious Lil’s, you do. I know you don’t see it but—“
“The first time I ever performed was my audition to get into this place,” Lily admits.
Remus can’t help his jaw dropping, “you’re kidding, right?”
“No,” her rigid frame softening, mouth quirking into a smile, “it was the best I’d felt in…probably my whole life.”
“How did you even—I mean, what made you do it?”
“I saw a poster for it at—on the university board in my high school. This school is too far for any of my family to travel,” she admits. “When they offered me the scholarship, I had to take it.”
“Shit,” Remus grins, “did I ever tell you I almost failed my audition.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Remus laughs, “stumbled over my Titus Andronicus monologue.”
Lily: “You performed Titus Andronicus for your audition?”
Remus: “I thought it would help me stand out!”
Lily: “Well, something worked because you’re here.”
“Exactly.” Remus crosses his arms, “we’re here.”
Lily sighs, “ok, you’re right. Pity party over.”
“Good, because our sandwiches are ready.”
Lily turns to see their order numbers are in fact sitting on the counter a few feet away. Laughing, she goes to get them. Silently, Remus marvels even more about the mystery that is Lily Evans.
At 12:18 pm Remus pulls back into the school parking lot. They’re late, but Lily doesn’t mention it.
“You sure you want to go?” Remus asks again, putting the car into park.
“We can’t leave Regulus alone in there like that,” she jokes half heartedly. “He needs at least one other person with a brain.”
“James is there,” Remus reminds her. “He’s better at this than anyone gives him credit for.”
“Yeah, but he sits with Sirius.”
“True.” Remus consedes, before another thought comes to mind. “Have you noticed things between Sirius and Regulus are kinda weird since we got back?”
“Oh yeah,” Lily huffs, “I was in the library with Regulus last night, Sirius walked in and I swear you could hear a pin drop. I have no idea what happened though.”
“Me neither,” Remus sighs. Out of the corner of his eye he catches sight of none other than Sirius sitting on the bench near the edge of the parking lot with two thermos of coffee beside him and an umbrella with little pink skulls tucked under his arm. His hair is his usual styled waves that just reach his collarbones, but the light rain has given an unfair messiness to it.
“Fucking hell, speak of the devil, looks like he brought us coffee,” he mutters.
“Fucking hell, you mean,” Lily teases him.
“Shut up.” Remus quips, opening his door. Lily grabs his cane out of the back since she’s closer and hands it to him.
“You’re lucky Mcgonagall is soft on you two,” Sirius shouts over.
“Yeah, yeah.” Remus grumbles back, shrugging his backpack onto his shoulder with his free arm. “At least I don’t make a habit out of it. She’s going to fucking kill you for this though.”
“Is one of those mine?” Lily teases gesturing to the coffee.
“Sorry Red, wasn’t sure if you’d be here.”
“Lets just go,” Remus grumbles.
They rush into the classroom twenty minutes late, shoes squeaking on the tile floor from the wet ground. Mcgonagall doesn’t acknowledge them, but Remus catches Barty rolling his eyes at him from one of the back seats.
“Ignore him,” Sirius whispers. “He’s just mad the Dean gave you special permission to be in the fall play.”
“Special permission?” Remus hisses back, “they cut too many students and now don’t have enough to fill all the roles, so they’re employing the double-majors for extra credit.”
“Whatever, it’s not like–”
“What do you think Mr. Lupin?” They both freeze, interrupted by a stern voice.
“Sorry,” Remus stutters, “what was the question?”
“What makes Romeo and Juliet different than all of Shakespeare's other plays.” Mcgonagall looks at them sternly from her place at the front board.
“Uh, that’ll be…” he glances around the room and catches James’ eye. He mouths pacing, and Remus repeats it aloud.
Mcgonagall looks annoyed, but nods. “Yes, the last two acts happen in such quick succession, because the tragic end cannot be stopped.
“Wouldn’t you be able to say that for every tragic play?” Lily questions.
“The difference with Romeo and Juliet is that the depiction of love is uncontrollable. Nothing can be done from the moment it begins, so much so that the action cannot be prolonged,” James responds. “In contrast with plays like Hamlet, where the events are almost…picked apart as we move through them, Romeo and Juliet leads to a rasher outcome.”
“With those two in mind, there’s also the fact that Romeo’s fatal flaw is recklessness. Hamlets is his indecision. His inability to act on the information provided to him.” Regulus adds.
“They’re opposite ends of the scale,” Mary continues, a small smile forming on her face. “Love, innocence, and tragedy. Revenge, murder, and truth.”
“More like two sides of the same coin isn’t it?” Marlene asks, brow furrowed.
“Exactly, Ms. Makinnon,” Mcgonagall praises. “I’m also happy to announce our play for this semesters fall performance is Romeo and Juliet—so we will become intimately familiar with it.”
The room perks up at the sound of that, and Mcgonagall gets that rare look in her eyes Remus only sees when they get a new assignment. It’s the look of a new term, and a new story to conquer.