I read this on a different website and wanted to share it on here. Each title is a chapter and in the beginning of each chapter is bit of lyrics that is like a summary for the chapters. All credits to the original creator if you want to read it on the original website here it is :

If this doesnt work try this, go to, on the side it should say search HPFF click it, there should be a search box type in Anesthetics, find the one that says Banner by Sammy Lupin! once you've done that you should have it also here's what it should say:
Anesthetics by UnderRugSwept13
Rating: Mature
Chapters: 20
Characters: Lupin, Snape, Sirius, Lily, James, Regulus, Bellatrix, Narcissa, Voldemort, OC
Genre(s): Drama, Angst, Young Adult
Era: Marauders
Pairings: Snape/OC, James/Lily, Lucius/Narcissa, Snape/Lily, OC/OC


7. Gravity

If you had to live with this,
You'd rather lie than fall.
You think I can't fly?
Well you just watch me!

Watching Julien get nailed in the side of the head with a bludger had to have been one of the funniest sights I’d ever seen. That’s a horrible thing to think, true, but the way he flopped off his broomstick and onto the bottom of the Quidditch pitch like a rag doll was priceless. I knew he wasn’t going to be seriously hurt; hardly anyone gets killed playing Quidditch. And so my loud and obnoxious laughter and snorting was justified.

As the match ended, gaggles of girls flocked behind Madam Pomfrey and the rest of our team as she levitated Julien’s stretcher to the Hospital Wing. I lingered behind, avoiding the crowds, getting trampled or worse, being stuck in the chick cluster who were squawking about unfair hits and crying over Julien’s fate. I personally thought they were just worried that the bludger had marred his beautiful face and feared the worse: Julien would be less than handsome. And therefore normal, like the rest of us. What a loss.

I soon found myself seated in an onyx leather armchair by the fireplace in the Slytherin Common Room. It was empty, to my surprise. Usually they were celebrating with nicked food and drink from the kitchens, but I guessed that they were all in mourning of Julien like he had actually died. Instead, my green comrades were either crying by Julien’s bedside, had turned into bed early or were harassing second-years in the hallways. I didn’t mind at all, the lack of human contact. But being alone to my own thoughts was the real issue.

Severus came to mind immediately. God, what a prat! A dark wizard? What the hell? I thought I had a pretty good grasp on reading people. I knew the types who would become Death Eaters, the types who I would find begging for money in Knockturn Alley, and the ones who would bribe the Ministry to do their bidding. But never in my mind had I pegged Severus for a Death Eater. And that’s what irritated me the most. The mere fact that I had been wrong about something was chewing at my insides like a flesh-eating bacteria.

Maybe it had been obvious though. Maybe everyone else had seen Snape’s dark tendencies but me. No. I refused to believe that. If anyone could have seen that, it would have been me. I’m not stupid! Severus had just been very secretive...

Or maybe...maybe I’d seen the signs. Could it be possible that I’d known all along, yet never addressed it because I preferred not to see the dark side of him. It was possible, actually. It only made sense that I would want to refute all signs of darkness in my only true comrade. That I had needed Snape’s connection so badly that I ignored who he was really turning into...

No! I wasn’t that blind and I certainly wasn’t that desperate. It was not possible. Severus had suddenly decided to be evil; it had nothing to do with me. It was his fault, of course. This was his choice. If he wanted to screw up his life and kiss the robes of some other wizard, then let him be. If that’s what he wants then we have no reason to be friends anyway!

I found myself fuming all of this in the Common Room after the match. The furor had died down a little bit; now the only noise was the girls crying over Julien’s header instead of the diehard fans cursing the opposing team for the “unfair hit”. Though the match had been a couple hours ago, I couldn’t even recall who we’d played.

I didn’t seek anyone out, of course. There was no way I was going to follow everyone to the hospital wing in mourning and I didn’t feel like being around Regulus, who was probably as sulky as a spoiled child not getting his way (which he was). And the last thing I wanted to do was head up to bed and listen to my roommates whine all night about Julien’s face. I’m sure he’d be back to his normal, perfect, charming self in a day or so.

But I guess the underlying truth was that I didn’t have anyone to seek out. Not that I ever had. Severus and I had always migrated or drifted towards one another. We had never sought to find the other for some kind of deep philosophical conversation. It just happened...minus the philosophy.

Realizing this only made me more frustrated and I threw my head back against the leather armchair in self-disgust. Why was I so hung up about this? It really wasn’t a huge deal; I didn’t need Severus. I didn’t need anybody! It was ridiculous for me to spend so much time wasting away on the issue when it truly wasn’t even an issue. In reality, it was just a little road bump. I wasn’t going to let it disrupt my entire existence. It was hardly worth the effort to even think about it.

“Capella.” I didn’t even have to look to recognize the familiar drawl of my name on someone’s tongue.
“What Regulus?” I threw my hands over my face, digging the heels of my hand deep into my eye sockets, trying to relieve the building pressure of the ache in my skull.

This was possibly the worst time for Regulus to want to chat. Not only did I not want to talk (as usual), I didn’t want to sit and pretend to listen, having his voice drone in the background as my thoughts drifted off. Because when it came down to it, I really didn’t want to think. About anything.

I briefly considered actually listening to my younger cousin, but instantly realized how utterly boring that would be. What did I care about the mundane issues and complaints of an overly-sensitive sixteen year old? If I wanted to suddenly pull up a chair and encourage him to confide in me, I’d certainly do it. Or I’d just take a spin delving deep into my own shallow teenage mind. But seeing as that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, I quickly banished those thoughts without further ado.

“You’re cheerful.” He spat, and I lifted my hands from my eyes just in time to see his nose wrinkle. Regulus still donned his Quidditch robes, some mud smeared on his shoes and his semi-long black hair mussed up from the wind. He rolled his eyes and unceremoniously plopped himself on the couch beside me.

“Go ahead, take a seat.” I mumbled, sarcastically referring to the fact that I had clearly not offered to have a quality family chat with him. He, of course, ignored my back sass and continued.

“What a wretched day!” He proclaimed, way more dramatic than necessary.
“You won, didn’t you?” I asked rudely, knowing the answer to my rhetorical question, “So stop whining like a child.”

However, this seemed to be a rather delicate subject for Regulus and I had walked myself into the temper tantrum of the century...

“Stop whining? Stop whining? I won the match! I won. Me, the team Seeker since second year won the goddamn game! But does anyone know that? No, they don’t. You know why? Because you’re stupid little admirer had to go and get himself knocked out because he doesn’t know how to fly a broomstick. And now everyone is mourning him like he’s dead because he got a little scratch-” Regulus then started to imitate the high-pitched sound of one of my roommate’s voices, “-‘Oh no, Julien go hit in the face! I hope he’s not less beautiful!’ and ‘Not our star player!’

“‘Star player’? He’s been on the team for all of two months and suddenly he’s the star? He’s only played one goddamn match. Chasers don’t even matter; that’s why there are three of them! Do you see three Seekers on a team? No! Because my job is a hell of a lot harder than his! So I don’t want to hear ‘You won, didn’t you?’ because you seem to be the only one who’s realized that. And what’s even better is that you don’t even know a damn thing about Quidditch, so what does it matter to you?”

At some point during his tirade, Regulus had stood up suddenly and began to pace with his shouting and angry arm movements. I just sat there, staring up at my cousin. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling; shock, surprise, agreement? My vote was none of the above, because honestly, I didn’t feel anything.

“It doesn’t matter to me.” I concurred as his breathing got back to normal pace. He had stopped his repetitive walking and looked down at me. He nodded, as though content with the fact that I had agreed with him.

“Are you finished complaining?” I inquired, just wanting to go up to my dorm and sleep.

Regulus took a moment to process this. He seemed caught in between saying something cheeky and starting to yell again. However, he took the smarter road and just nodded.

“Good, now leave me alone.”

Surprisingly enough, he did just that.

It wasn’t long before the silence began to kill me and all my previous thoughts came pouring in, sloshing back in forth in my brain like a full bucket of rainwater. I’d had enough of this ridiculous melodrama; I was going to bed, damn it.

I stood up, shaking my head as though trying to clear my mind of the thoughts that fluttered inside like moths. Placing my fingers on my head and pressing them into my temples, I found the source of the headache that was surely forming. Sighing, I made slow progress towards my dorm.

“Hey Black.” I heard my name demanded as I continued. I guessed whoever it was had been referring to Regulus who was probably still skulking in the room, yet out of sight. Although I could have sworn I’d watched him trudge off towards the boy’s dorms just a moment ago. I didn’t recognize the voice.

“Hey you!” And still I trudged; generally only Regulus and Sirius were referred to as ‘Black’, and seeing as Sirius shouldn’t have been in Slytherin territory, I assumed it was Regulus.

Capella.” I stopped at the sound of the frustrated voice as he uttered my name, his tone almost that of defeat of actually having to call me by my proper name. My place in the social standing of the boarding school food pyramid was painfully obvious by the exasperation in his voice.

I finally turned around and found that I was right; I didn’t know this kid at all. And the further oddity was that he was a Quidditch player, addressing me, the antisocial bitch of Slytherin. How touching. He seemed to know this as well, for his eyes were trained everywhere but me, his nose slightly pointed in the air. But I guess he couldn’t help this defect, apparently all purebloods were born with the strange mutation that their noses were permanently stuck up to the Heavens from which they came.

Fleetingly, I wondered what could have possibly possessed this boy to speak to me. Maybe he was possessed. Oh well; his problem, not mine. But no...he was too disgusted by the close proximity he was within me, a full nine feet. He’d have to go through some kind of therapy to fix that trauma. Again, not my problem.

He was popular, that much was obvious, and probably in my year or a little younger. Tall and lean, I guessed he could have been a Keeper, but my mediocre Quidditch knowledge didn’t assure me of this. He could have been handsome had he not looked like two flobberworms were mating in front of him. And believe you me, that is a mentally and emotionally scarring event to watch.

“Me?” I asked, raising my eyebrows with as much detached interest as I could muster. He rolled his eyes in response, two muddy swamps of aggravation.
“Yes, you.”
“What do you want?”
“How polite.” He sneered, his skyward nose wrinkling in annoyance.
“Only if you’re comparing it to your own obvious compassion.” I snapped back, narrowing my eyes in a face-off: midnight verses mud. Needless to say, he backed off, breaking the eye contact and shrugged.

“Julien wants you.”
“Well who doesn’t?” I bit, the acid in my voice super-concentrated due to all the pent up teenage drama. He ignored this and continued,
“He wants to see you in the hospital wing. He’s been asking for you.”
“I’m not in his will, am I? That’s ridiculous, he’ll be out of there in three days.” Was my response.

I’m not sure what my real response was. Julien was asking for me? What could possibly cause him to ask such a silly thing. It must have been the hit to the cranium he took; clearly he was suffering from a serious injury that had addled his brains. But still, I couldn’t suppress the little flutter in my stomach that came as a result of hearing that he wanted me. Apparently all the moths previously in my head had made their way down to my stomach, emerging as giant-winged hippogriffs bashing their way throughout my stomach. It was all I had to not crack a smile...

“He wants to see you.” The pretty boy repeated, seeming as confused as I was to the turn of events.

I thought about this circumstance for a moment. Julien wanted to see me...why? I didn’t have anywhere to go or anywhere to be...maybe I could just kip on off towards the fourth floor and just happen to mistake the hospital wing for the lavatory. I’d never tell him that I came to kneel beside his bed in his time of need. I swear the cogs in my brain sounded like the brakes on a train as they whizzed in rapid thought. So, I finally came to the decision,
“Tell him ‘no thanks’.”

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