The Epic Tale of the Hogwarts Food-fight________


First of all, I, Lily Evans, 17, 7th Year Gryffindor, Head Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, will have you know, inanimate object (specifically, a piece of parchment) and anyone else who might happen to be reading this-God forbid!-, that I am doing this entirely against my will. I am sitting here, in the Transfiguration classroom, at a desk in the front of the class, on Monday, February 16th, at 7:32, writing my assigned scroll of parchment for this particular detention. I feel compelled to explain; I have received detention for the rest of the school year from McGonagall, Transfigurations professor, Head of Gryffindor House, for a nefarious crime I committed last Saturday, February 14th, also known as Valentine’s Day, during dinner at the Great Hall, in the presence of all the professors and countless peers.

If there were anyone reading this, which I desperately hope not, they would probably be wondering what I have done to receive such a very heavy sentence. And if this hypothetical reader happened to know me in person they would probably be astounded. I am not the kind of girl who receives a detention, let alone another approximately 87.Yes, I counted. You see, I am an honorable, rule abiding, precocious, careful, thoughtful, friendly and sweet-tempered teenager. Okay, so maybe I’m not sweet-tempered, but all the other adjectives fit perfectly with me. So, why in Merlin’s name would I receive such a punishment? Two words: James Potter.

If that name does not provoke fear, repulsion, terror, abhorrence and a desire to strangle the bearer, then the person who has heard it does not know him. He is the most despicable, self adoring git in the universe! There isn’t even any competition! And if you, anonymous reader, have even a vague idea of how many nominees for that title the universe houses, you’ll get the picture. No, not even the whole picture, just half of it! He is unimaginably unbearable!

And if for some unknown reason you come across this, Potter, and the paragraph above does not manage to penetrate your unusually thick head and convince you of my stupendous dislike of you, I hope the following sentence helps: I HATE YOU!

Now, if my punishment seemed bad enough it would be surprising to find that it is actually much, much worse. All of my detentions are spent in the company of McGonagall, the parchment and quill she gives me to write on, and James Potter. Yes, the same supreme git of the galaxy one might happen to remember from my unfavorable description of him somewhere up there. The one and only James bloody Potter! Pity me.

Now for the reason I am to ‘release my overwhelming feelings’, or so McGonagall calls forcibly keeping a journal or diary or whatever this is called, and suffer the unspeakable horror: I started a food-fight.

Have you, hypothetical anonymous reader, ever been part of a food-fight? If ‘no’, then be thankful every day of your sure to be glorious life. If ‘yes’…be thankful all the same, for James Potter was not a part of it.

I will now reveal the exact circumstances and details of such discordance…



On Friday I received by means of one of the school owls a simple valentine that read:

“Roses are red
Violets are blue
The flower I have sent
Is not nearly as beautiful as you”

The poem had not seemed like it had taken much thought, though still sweet. I would not have appreciated it as much as I did if it had not come with the most beautiful flower I have ever laid eyes on. It was white lily, completely untouched and in the center it was a shade of light pink. It had a long stem and a single delicate leaf still attached. It truly put the word ‘gorgeous’ to shame.

“Wow,” one of my best friends, Sophie Stewart, of Hufflepuff house, had whispered as she took it gingerly into her hands as we sat in a secluded shrubbery on the grounds. She was in awe of it.

It would probably be best to give an adequate description of my friend for the general comprehension. Sophie is, above all, loyal and fair. But she is no saint. She is extremely violent which makes being her friend alternately harmful and beneficial. She is fond of giving ‘playful punches’ but is dubiously comically unaware of her own strength, yet no one dares mess with us. She is tall and has an enviable figure. Her hair is chestnut brown and she has green-grey eyes that are almost always malicious slits. At that moment though, they were wide. She was not being quiet and intimidating either, like she always tries to be. Despite her tough exterior, she is as soft as a marshmallow and a hopeless romantic. That is probably why she has had so many catastrophic relationships; guys who just want to have fun think she won’t be the kind of girl to fall to a heap after a break-up because she seems so untouchable, when in fact she cries almost every night. The most recent of her heartbreakers has been Sirius Black, a friend of Potter’s. I have yet another reason to hate him.

Anyway, Sophie and I were both stunned by this flower. It also had an entrancing aroma and Sophie would not take it away from her face.

“Well, it is pretty. Who sent it to you?” asked my other best friend, Richard Simon, in my house though in 6th year.

He is a good-looking, blond, always in a good mood that is getting a teensy bit chubby. Rich has been my friend for as long as I can remember. We knew each other before we found out that we were both magical, though I had to keep it a secret from him for a year until he got his Hogwarts letter. He is the kind of person who doesn’t give a damn about what the rest of the world thinks, as long as he’s happy with who he is and what he does. He never lets anything get to or faze him. But sometimes his never seeming interested annoys me.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. It didn’t come with a name. Maybe it got delivered to me by mistake.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a lily, Lily,” remarked Rich and he stressed the similarity between my name and the flower’s. “What a funny coincidence.”

Sophie wiggled her eyebrows and said in a sing-song voice. “Lily’s got a secret admirer that her boyfriend doesn’t know about!”

I fidgeted. No, Terry Caldwell, a 7th year Ravenclaw who was also captain of his Quidditch Team, did not know about my ‘secret admirer’, and I would not be the one to tell him. I doubted he would be pleased, he’s awfully jealous. But I could not bring myself to throw that beautiful flower away. So, for the rest of the day I walked around with it hidden in my bag and charmed so it would remain so perfect and un-smashed. Truth be told, I secretly found the whole situation slightly romantic

The day did not go normally. Every time Terry came near me something happened. Once he came to give me a kiss ‘hello’ on the stairs and his foot sunk through one of the steps. We assumed it was just another trick step; Hogwarts was full of these. But he could not be taken out and Filch had to be called. I could not stick around for I was going to be late to class, something I absolutely forbid my self of doing. When he came to greet me at lunch a pack of angry owls suddenly swooped at him and he had to run from the Great Hall, lest he be pecked to death. I did not see him again that day, because he had a meeting with his study group. He is always so hard-working! He meets with his study group every week.

The next day, I went to his Quidditch practice. I had not had much chance to talk to him on Friday because of trick steps and the simultaneous brain disruption of about a dozen owls, so I forced my self to wake up at 8:00am on a Saturday, something I don’t normally do. But it was also our first Valentine’s Day together, and I was determined to make an effort. I admit I did enjoy watching him play. Whenever he sped up his sand colored hair blew in the wind in a very sexy way and I could tell his blue eyes were glinting when he scored. And men look so good in uniform…

When the practice ended, he was walking toward me with his broom over his shoulder, looking pleased to see me.

“Well, don’t you look hot,” he called as means of greeting. “I like that flower in your hair.”

My hand reached up. The flower was indeed there, being held in place by my small ear and bright, long and wavy red hair. Hmm…I didn’t remember having put it there. Well, I wasn’t exactly Miss Perception at that ungodly hour of the morning; maybe I had grabbed it off my bedside still half asleep. But at least Terry didn’t seem to suspect it was from my admirer. In fact, hadn’t his exact words been, “Well, don’t you look hot”?

He leaned in to kiss me, whispering, “Happy Valentine’s Day,” but before he could he was hit by a Bludger in the back and had to be taken to the Hospital Wing. His teammates kept swearing to me that they had locked the Bludgers away safely and had not an idea as to how one got away. But I had.

As we were taking Terry away, I noticed some movement under the stands. I had not seen anyone else on the pitch, so I looked closer. And who should I see crouching there in fits of laughter other than James Potter and two of his sidekicks, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew? Oh, aren’t we both surprised, anonymous reader?

There seems to be something about me that Potter finds extremely attractive, because he has absolutely refused to give up on me after I turned him down in our 5th year. Ever since then, he has taken every possible opportunity to ask me out again, in the pathetic hope that I will have changed my mind. That’s wishful thinking if you ask me. I have never so much as smiled at the boy, and hope never to do so. He also has the tendency to jinx any guy who shows signs of fancying me and my boyfriends become his enemies. So, why wouldn’t he want to send a Bludger at Terry?

As I sat there in the Hospital Wing holding my boyfriend’s clammy hand in my own while three of his remaining teammates talked to the nurse, Madame Pomfrey, I went over all the tantalizing things I could and would do to Potter in my head. Among these the one that most struck me as worthy of what he’d done was to shave that ridiculously messy head of hair of his. Perhaps then he would learn his lesson which was already long past due. I wiped away the angry tears that threatened to spill from my ‘eyes as green as almond-shaped zucchini’, or so Potter was fond of declaring in crowded hallways.



Well, hypothetical reader, I can finally leave now, since my detention is over as it is 8:30. McGonagall has already collected Potter’s assigned scroll of parchment and is waiting for mine. I notice Potter wrote each word about a foot apart and his letters are humongous to match the size of his ego. Now, aside from an assigned number of pages to write, McGonagall will have to set the size of each letter and the breadth between them. I would hate to be a teacher. She says that these ‘un-bottled feelings’ written down will help to settle the differences between us. Ask not how, for I have no clue how one achieves the impossible. I will continue my woeful story during my next detention. I hope you, whoever you might be, are looking forward to it as much as I am. Take note of the sarcasm heavily used in that last sentence,

Lily Evans

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Well, if you've read all the way down here, it wont take that much longer to review. Please? This is my very first story 'published', I could use some encouragement!

The Epic Tale of the Hogwarts Food-fight________




Well, I am back again, my piece of stupid parchment. Want to know something? If you don’t, that’s just too bad. This whole arrangement is a cataclysmic mistake! How on earth did the staff think that this would help me and that great ignoramus to get along? I can only assume that their tactics have become desperate with the progression of this year. Mine and Potter’s run-ins have became more frequent and he has been inflicted even more pain at my hands than ever before. But the staff will not give up the futile hope that I will someday bear to hear his name without wanting to either break, smash, tear or pulverize whatever I have in my hands. Believe me; this quill I’m writing with is in great peril.



Ten billion times more than unfortunate has been the fact Potter has also started to become desperate. All of these years he has honestly managed to hold the opinion that we are both meant to be, that I could not resist and would succumb to his charms the very next day.



Bah! I am sickened just writing that down. He has finally caught on that I will not be declaring my undying love to him in ballad as he has done for me. Do not ask me to recount that horrible song; it was a traumatic experience. He is finally beginning to consider the possibility that I just might not return his feelings in their integrity. Therefore he is desperate, I tell you, and my dear Headmaster, Dumbledore, has finally lost the few marbles he still possessed, most likely the reason for which he has tossed his Head Boy and Girl into detention every school day to the impending demise of us both at my hands. I am yet to die a tragic death at far too young an age.



McGonagall is another one whose brain must not be regulating properly. She is sitting at her desk right this moment looking back and forth between me and Potter and she’s smiling. I bet she assumes I have hidden feelings for that mop-headed oaf. I am gagging, so you know. That bun at the back of her head must be too tight, for surely it’s messing with her brain cells. And if you happen to read this, Professor…keep in mind that I am very much disturbed and that you promised me you would not be reading this yourself. And since you are aware of the reasons for which I am here, you most likely understand the reasons for my vexation. So if you do happen to read and be insulted by this, it is entirely your fault for tricking me into revealing my opinions unrestrained.



So, during my first detention I had begun the tale of why I am here, but could not finish. And it is now Wednesday, February 18th. I spent my last detention writing down every name I thought Potter deserved, and let me tell you, my supposed and unknown reader, I have an extensive vocabulary and it is surprising how many insults Potter has awarded himself. Would one believe that after all that… monster has done, he still worked up the nerve after our first detention to tell me that never will he give up on me-oh joy of joys!- and better yet, continue to insult my boyfriend? Oh, he drives me insane! At least I took some satisfaction out of cursing his sorry mouth to grow seven times as big as it normally is.



Now, I am sadly back to tell my tale…







I was sitting in the Hospital Wing, waiting for Terry to come to. By the time it was 2:00 his team-mates had already left and I was hungry. I had not had breakfast, and my system does not function correctly when in lack of food. I was grateful when Madame Pomfrey came to shoo me out, as it was time for Terry to take some potion and do some tests and I was not allowed to be around for some reason. I told myself I would be back after lunch, after I had sufficiently pleased my stomach. It was turning out to be an interesting Valentine’s Day. Most people would take this as an ill omen, but I am not in the least bit superstitious.



Sophie came up to the Gryffindor house table as Rich watched me stuff my face with everything within my reach. Sophie’s nose scrunched up as she watched me shove a sandwich in my mouth.



“How dainty,” she said.



“Very, isn’t it?” Rich agreed, nodding his head.



Once I had swallowed some of what I was eating and was able to defend my cause I stated, “Shove off. I’m hungry.”



Rich smiled blandly, saying,” I would never have guessed.”



Sophie leaned in.



“Keep in mind that your secret admirer might be watching.”



I stopped half way through taking another sandwich. My hand went instantly up to my hair. The flower was not there. I startled. Had I left it in the Hospital Wing? Had it fallen off when I was leading Terry away, on the Quidditch pitch? It was a shame; I had wanted to keep it. I reminded myself to check when I went up to see Terry again.



“Has he sent you anything else?” Sophie insisted.



Rich said, “It might be a ‘she’.”



Sophie and I both made faces. Rich shrugged.



“It’s possible.”



“Well, thanks, but I’d prefer not to think about that,” I declared, then added, “and I’m gonna go now.” I picked up another sandwich to eat on my way.



Sophie asked, “Where are you going? Isn’t Terry going to meet you here?”



“He’s in the Hospital Wing, because King of Stupid over there sent a Bludger at him. I'll tell you about that later. Right now I have to go kill him, so excuse me,” I said and I started making my way toward Potter’s gigantic head that had just sat up from lunch at the end of the table.



But before I could a pair of rough hands grabbed me from behind and dragged me out of the Hall as another hand slipped over my mouth to keep me from screaming.



“Damn, Evans. You bit me!” the voice of Sirius Black said as he released me after I did just what he said.



I crossed my arms over my chest and said, “I’ll give you exactly three seconds to tell me what you want with me, or I’ll curse you.”



“Wow, you’re in a bad mood today.”



I put up a finger.



“One…”



“I don’t think biting a fellow student goes down too well. I could turn you in for sexual harassment, you know.”



Another finger went up.



“Two…”



“So, how’s Sophie?”



That made me gape a little. I mean, Sirius Black isn’t known to care for ex-girlfriends with broken hearts. He’s known for not caring. But I only gaped for a while, mind you, Lily Evans is Queen of Cool.



“Much better without you, that’s how she’s doing,” was my snappy retort.



Did I just see him cringe? No, I must have been hallucinating; Potter must have finally succeeded in driving me mad.



“Why would you care, anyway?” I asked.



He tilted his head and said, “I notice you’ve stopped with the countdown.”



Huh! He was avoiding my question. That’s very interesting…And hypothetical reader; don’t think I’m going soft for not cursing him; I didn’t just because I’m sure Sophie still has feelings for him. But let me tell you it was very tempting.



“What do you want, Black?”



He grinned evilly and pulled something out of his pocket. It was my flower. “I think this might belong to you,” he said.



Lily Evans, Queen of Cool, had an uncharacteristic moment.



“Where did you get that?” I gasped.



He was still grinning in that unsettling way. “I found it on the pitch.”



I spluttered. “How did you…why did you…you?”



He laughed out loud (I noticed his laughing was a lot like barking. How odd) and shook his head. “No, sweets, it wasn’t me who sent you this. But I know who did,” he provoked.



“Who was it?”



Again, he shook his head then grinned like an evil maniac.



“So did you tell your wimpy boyfriend about this? Or is he still out?”



Forget Sophie. I was fuming mad. I flew at him, pounding on him as hard as I could.



“How dare you!”



He easily grabbed my arms with one hand and held me, kicking madly, away from his face.



“Be careful Evans. We don’t want to get detention now, do we?” he said and, laughing maniacally, he shoved me away and leapt onto the moving staircase, a safe distance from my enraged self. “Ta ta,” he sang and he threw the flower toward me.



I watched helplessly as he floated away from my strangling range. I picked up the lily from the ground, questions spinning through my head. How did Sirius know about my admirer? And if he knew, did that whole useless, self-idolizing herd know too? And who was it that sent me this thing of beauty? Well, there was only one way to find out: getting the answer out of the Marauders, who obviously knew so much about all this. And I knew just the one to weasel it out of.



Now I just had to find him…







It has again happened that I have run out of time. Looking at my watch, it is now 8:28, and I will spend the next two minutes watching Potter search in vain for his piece of parchment. It’s quite entertaining. You see, I happened to get a glance at what he’d written; it consisted mainly of ‘Lily Evans is beautiful’, ‘Lily Evans is magnificent’ and blah, blah, blah…Well I know the boy is obsessed with me, but this has gone too far. So, when he dropped his quill and bent down to pick it up, I, without summoning the attention of the Professor, vanished his paper with a soundless wave of my wand. That serves him right, the Brainless Duke of Prats…



Oh great! He’s turned around to stare at me. Look the other way, you great bumbling ignoramus! Sorry, piece of parchment, I’m folding you up for the two minute wait, seeing as how you might incriminate me if Potter reads you.



Lily Evans, Criminal Mastermind.



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Okay, so feel like reviewing? Go on, write anything you'd like! Make guesses! Rant! I don't mind at all...A great big thanks to my beta, JC Cainstone, the reason you're reading this.

Well, Lily is back again, anonymous reader. It is the 19th of February, Thursday, as McGonagall has so helpfully reminded me I must write. I am once again sitting in detention, facing my Professor and sitting beside the mop-headed horror, both of which happen to be at the top of my list of deranged and hopeless cases.



So, something funny happened yesterday. I was ticking the names off the list of crazy people I have made for myself to Rich while we sat in the common room and he pointed out the irony of my writing such a list. I admit I did not quite understand what he meant. Honestly, I have every right to vent my frustration concerning the outrageous injustice of my being surrounded by nutcases, but what right did he have to snort at me?



I am now thoroughly bored and annoyed with the way Potter is tapping his fingers on the table. I feel like telling the twit to get a life, but I doubt Professor McGonagall would applaud me if I did. So, instead, I guess I’ll just go back to writing about my little misdemeanour which the staff have dubbed a felony seemingly just for the hell of it…







So, the 14th of February, Saturday, Valentine’s Day, the day of the one and only Hogwarts food-fight. The day I came dangerously close to murdering James Potter, at 5:45 I was still searching the halls for Peter Pettigrew, in the hopes that I could threaten him into revealing the reasons for the marauder’s involvement in the whole ‘secret admirer’ affair. If such reasons existed, that is. After all, he was the only one of those boys who I doubted found much glory in the expression ‘guard it with your life’.



Well, the sneaky little rat certainly did know how to make himself scarce; I had to give him credit for that. I had already checked everywhere I could think of: the common room, (where I had also gone up to my dorm quickly to put away the flower, since I did not want it dropped and found again), the boy’s dormitory, the grounds, the Great Hall, the bathrooms, the kitchens…where could he be? I’d even gone to the Hospital Wing to check on Terry, since my search was turning out to be a wild-goose chase. He was well and ready to leave, but Madame Pomfrey said not until around dinnertime. So I was alone on Valentine’s Day.



“I feel so bad about all of this,” he’d said grumpily to me. “We had plans for today and now…” He gestured sombrely at the Hospital Wing.



“It wasn’t your fault!” I comforted him by saying. “It was the slimy git’s.”



“Who’s?” he looked confused.



“Potter’s!” I declared, looking at him like he had gravy for brains.



“Oh.” He seemed to consider this for a while. “Are you sure? ‘Cause if it was I’ll…do something about it.”



I smiled, very pleased.



“So will I.”



Afterwards I decided to search one last time. Sometime after I’d been up to the Divination tower I vaguely realized I was facing a portrait of trolls in frilly pink things that did not look so attractive; there was nothing else in the hallway. Stomping my feet with impatience and aggravation, I turned to leave but then heard a noise and turned around. None other than Peter Pettigrew was clambering out through a door I had not yet noticed, holding numerous pastries in his hands.



He started when he saw me and promptly dropped a muffin.



“Oh, whizzes,” was all he said as I watched him drop down to pick up the muffin, his arms still overflowing full.



As he reached his arm for it, about half a dozen other little cakes fell as well.



“Mauling mandrakes!” he exclaimed.



I quickly stomped over and picked up the first muffin that fell and stood there looking over him. He did not appear to have noticed my standing over him as he was too busy mumbling about how the icing on the top of his muffin had been smudged when I made him drop it, until he grabbed a cake right next to my foot, and, looking up to see to whom the leg attached to it belonged, gasped.



I dangled the muffin before him.



“Hello, Peter.”



“ Um, greetings, Lily,” he stammered.



I said, “Do you happen to know anything about what you were doing at the Quidditch pitch this morning?”



He looked both horrified and as if he wanted to laugh.



“Um, no…”



“And what about a certain flower I received yesterday?” I inquired smartly.



“Um, no…”



“Ah…so you have heard of it…how’d Sirius know it was mine?”



His eyes shifted and he gibbered, “Um…who?”



I frowned and ordered, “Don’t play thick,” I said, while it crossed my mind that he did not need to be a very good actor to play that part. “How’d he know?”



“Know what?”



At this point, I was already very much for just hexing him and getting it over with. I pulled out my wand as means of persuasion. There comes a time in any given situation where measures must become desperate in order to reap results.



He squealed and, for some unexplainable reason, put his hands over his cheeks as if to protect them. The boy is odd, I tell you.



“Peter…” I said menacingly, “Do you know who sent me that lily?”



He looked as if he were going through an internal struggle for a while. Then finally, he seemed decided. All in one breath he pretty much shouted something that was muffled by his hands still placed firmly over his cheeks.



“Iff’ uff’’ ‘Amef oo’ ‘femp iff’ oo’ du.”



Oh, well, how intelligible.



“Speak, Pettigrew.” I moved my wand closer to his face.



His eyes bulged and his hands left his cheeks so he could shout, “It-was-James-who-sent-it-to-you!”



Well, that was quite a strange thing for him to say so inquired further, “What do you mean by that?”



He explained, “It…was…James…who…sent…the…flower…to…you.”



It was James who…sent me that poem…and the flower? James Potter is my secret admirer? This little bit of information made me stare at Peter as if he’d suddenly grown an extra head.



“What?”



Pettigrew looked frightened and hastened to say, “James…he sent that poem with the flower to you, because he didn’t want to see you with Terry Caldwell on Valentine’s Day.”



Even if I’d overlooked the preposterousness of James Potter having done something romantic for me, that would still not make any sense. Why would the poem stop him from seeing me with Terry?



“If you don’t explain…” I jabbed my wand at him, desperate for more information.



He gasped and proceeded to stutter, “Well…James l-likes you and he d-didn’t want to see Caldwell k-kiss you or any-anything and so he had an id-dea. So he ch-charmed a flower against y-your boy-f-friend. He made it so that every t-time Terry came near the flower something w-would hap-p-pen and if you had the f-flower with you he’d never be able to come near you. Remember the time he got attacked by owls? And when he fell through the s-stairs? And the Bludger? We d-didn’t send it, it was the charm, we were just watching. And we saw that you dropped the flower on the p-pitch so James asked Sirius to g-give it back to you so Terry would still not be around.”



This sank in very slowly…so they had charmed that flower? James Potter hated my boyfriend that much? He was that desperate? What a low, foul treacherous…though, I hated to admit, very clever…and just plain evil thing to do! Oh, he would pay. He would pay! If I had thought he deserved to have his head shaved, now I was very much of the opinion he deserved to be castrated.



And, anonymous hypothetical reader, do you want to know the worst part? I had loved that poem, I’d felt special and overvalued by it. I dreamed about it; that one day my secret admirer would reveal himself to me and he would say all sorts of sappy love lines to me that would make me giggle and swoon. In those dreams there was no Terry, there was no one else, we were floating through golden paradise and my admirer looked like one of the princes from little girls fairy tales. To find out that the one I had really been daydreaming about was James Potter was shocking beyond words. The dream was shattered like shards of broken glass. I don’t like to remember that feeling, like I’d been set up and made out as a fool. I’ll never admit this again, but I was hurt.



And I hid that hurt very well in anger. I was furious. And now I feel like getting rid of that whole confession, but McGonagall says we cannot cross out anything we write in these. Curses.



“L-lily...? Are you all right?” Peter had asked tentatively.



I must have looked very frightening. I could not remember ever being angrier in my life.



I smiled poisonously at him and he backed away toward the wall, all of his pastries long since forgotten.



“Never been better,” I said in a voice that would have sounded good in a horror film. And I stormed away, with every intention of finding Potter and depriving him of the ability to reproduce.



“Lily, where are you going?” asked Peter in a high-pitched voice as he scampered after me.



“Where’s James?”



“Where are you going?”



“Where’s James?”



He faltered a few steps.



“I…don’t know.”



“Doesn’t matter, I’ll find him myself.” I rolled my eyes and my body seethed in anger as I made my way down toward the Great Hall.



Once Peter realized where I was going he tried everything he could to convince me that James was most likely in the common room and that he would be glad to help me find him. Ha! No one fools the great and raging Lily Evans, especially when she’s on the hunt. But he did not give up and that is how our odd little un-concurring band made it down to the Great Hall: me surely looking very much the lunatic and Peter rattling off stories about how James had indigestion and could not attend dinner.



My mind was set; I did not care for the consequences of my actions at this moment, I was being controlled by some higher power that told me to, ‘kill him, kill him!’. Revenge is always so much sweeter before it is actually done.



Finally, I got there, and what I saw made my stomach drop as I screamed in outrage.







My, my, my…I hate to admit it, but this detention ha seemed oddly short. Potter has already packed and left. He stared at me the whole time, and did not once cease from tapping his fingers. How on earth could McGonagall just sit there with that stupid little smile on her face? Oh, how maddening…I’m probably going to dream about shrinks, flying food and infuriating tap dancers wearing frilly pink things. That’s just how wonderful my life is.



Lily Evans

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Okay, the white box is right there. Please review...I'll smile if you do! I'd like to say thanks to the happy camper for recommending this story and to my beta reader JC Cainstone.

Today, hypothetical, anonymous reader, I am exceedingly joyful. This is the best day of the year! Do you want to know why? Because today is Friday, February 20th and tomorrow I will not be here to tell you what day it is. Isn’t that just marvellous? I have one whole Potter-free weekend during which Rich will help to mend my broken mind. Notice Sophie will not be aiding in such a delicate task, for I no longer trust her to know what a brain looks like. Hers is malfunctioning. Sadly enough, she has earned her spot on my list of psychos as of this morning due to events I will recount here. The poor dear. I must say, it is alarming how the number keeps growing. Honestly, what will become of this place when I am the only sane one left?


Anyway, Rich and I were eating breakfast in the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table. Normally Sophie joins us there, but not this morning. And by the way, on a totally irrelevant note, we had blueberry muffins for breakfast (I love blueberry muffins!). She wasn’t at the Hufflepuff table either. If you are Rich you won’t give it second’s thought and just voice out your opinion that she probably slept in late. But if you are me (which you are not) you will suspect something darker and smellier that instantly reminds you of a certain mop-headed dolt. I have instincts and warning bells when it comes to that sort of thing.


Rich went his own way to his sixth year classes and I went to my first lesson, Herbology. Sophie showed up late, but she wasn’t the only one. One Sirius Black strolled in just behind her. That did certainly not promise to mean good news. Sirius Black and ‘good news’ do not fit in the same text, unless there are several words making explicit their contradictory relationship. While Professor Sprout expressed to us her displeasure and disappointment that we had not managed to care for the Decapitating-Dandelions she’d put us in charge of, I held an interrogation.


“Where were you at breakfast?” I demanded.


“I was just…talking to someone,” Sophie said, all the while not looking at me. She stared at Professor Sprout as if she actually cared about the stupid flowers the Professor was shedding tears over. “It was nothing, really.”


“Well, if it was nothing you won’t mind telling me, will you?” I am so smooth. “Who were you talking to?”


She hesitated an instant before muttering, “Sirius.”


My squinting eyes pierced the back of that black head she was referring to.






“About…what precisely?”





“He pulled me aside and asked if we could be friends and if I could forgive him.”


I did not miss the way she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.


“And you said ‘yes’?” I exclaimed, unbelievingly.


“Yes, I said ‘yes’. And stop acting like it’s something outrageous, Lily. Don’t give me that look.”


“Sophie, why did you say ‘yes’?”


“Because, Lily, I want to be his friend, it’s that simple. Everyone is friends with them but you, just because you still have a grudge on James. That doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t like them or-“


“Sophie,” I interrupted, “how can you act as if I shouldn’t hate them. You of all people, you know what he did-“


“Okay, fine, what he did was stupid,” she interrupted right back, “but he only did it because he is madly in love with you and apparently when one is madly in love they are apt to do mad things, ironically enough. You are the only one who doesn’t see that-“


“Well, of course, because I don’t want to see it. Who in their right mind would want that oaf in love with them-”


“They’re not even half as bad as you think-“


“If they are even a sixth as bad as I think then they are still tremendously bad-“


“You are just too stubborn for your own good-“


“And I refuse not to be, when it comes to this subject-“


“You haven’t even ever talked to him-“


“Thank the Lord for that!”


Sophie glared at me. I felt as if I should justify myself.


“Sophie, he is just…evil!” I shouted, much louder than I should have.


“Miss Evans. I will ask you to keep your voice down, or else you will earn yourself another detention and at the rate you are at, you will have to remain here over the summer,” the formerly weeping Professor admonished in a sing-song voice.


Well, this is why Sophie is yet another hopeless case; because of this inexplicable defensiveness towards the Marauders, who happen to have no means of defence. Okay fine, so she likes Sirius (something which I consider impossible and/or demented) but I have the right not to like the situation, right? I mean, he helped to ruin my life; him going all…gentleman-like with my best friend will not be seen as anything good through my eyes. That is final. Besides, she is much better off without him, if I may say so myself.


I think I should just get the Epic Tale of the Hogwarts food-fight over with, before I drive myself mad as well by listening to Potter’s quill scribbling away God-knows-what on his parchment. Funny. The title I’ve given this little story makes it sound heroic…








So, there I was, around 6:30, having been followed around the castle by Pettigrew, staring at Terry and Potter arguing wildly in between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables at dinner in the Great Hall. Well, they were gesticulating wildly. I didn’t actually hear a word of the exchange and according to the account of those near them they were arguing in whispers. Don’t ask, I wouldn’t be able to answer.


The great big ugly baboon was waving one arm around and poking Terry in the chest forcefully with the other, looking enraged. Terry stood strong, pushing Potter’s hand away and muttering things that seemed to make his opponent even more insane and far less eloquent. If that’s possible, that is. People all over the hall were beginning to stare and point. McGonagall was slowly standing up from her seat at the high table. Then Potter spluttered something, red in the face which made Terry throw his head back and laugh. That was the first sound I heard of their whole argument. Then Terry leaned in towards a gaping James and murmured something with a sneer on his face. Potter’s face, in turn, went blank. Then-


WHAM!


Potter’s punch hit Terry so hard he was knocked backwards into the Ravenclaw table, where those sitting in the vicinity shrieked and moved away from the fallen boy with the bloody nose. Everyone in the hall was watching now. People were shouting and standing up to get a better view. McGonagall had stood and was marching her way around the staff table. Potter pulled his arm back and punched my boyfriend again, this time in the stomach. He was yelling now, things that made absolutely no sense to the human ear. At that moment Sirius stood up, apparently deciding Terry had been beaten enough, and wrestled his mate away. He is incredibly strong from what I could tell.


But none of that I saw. All I saw was Potter’s furious face. He looked just the way I felt. I was shaking and my heart was beating so loud and hard I was expecting everyone in the hall to look around wondering what the source of the entire racket was. It was frightening how mad I was. I didn’t hear myself scream or feel myself move forward. I didn’t even feel Peter’s feeble and desperate attempts to hold me back.


I reached them. Everyone was watching as Terry yelled at Potter and Sirius yelled right back at him. I was still staring at the oaf. He turned around when I approached.


His eyes widened and a look of downright horror filled them. I swear, he must have thought I looked like Medusa or something of the sort.


“Evans, you don’t understand-” he started in a desperate tone. But I never let him finish.


I don’t know exactly how but I managed to grab hold of a lemon-meringue pie covered in pink and red frosting for the Valentine theme. Once I realized how useful a tool this was in the utter destruction of Potter I was intending (and trust me, it didn’t take very long) I didn’t give it another second’s thought. Upon reaching him I smashed it hard to his face.


The silence in the hall was deafening. All the excited voices that had been shouting when the boys had been fighting ceased. Even Professor McGonagall stopped dead in her tracks out of shock. I did not notice this. I was too busy abandoning the dish the pie had been in and spreading what had remained of it all over James Potter’s head.


I stood on my tiptoes, my arms high over my head, spreading the creamy stuff all over. I made sure every inch of his face was covered in pink. I took a sick sort of pleasure out of thinking it probably stung his eyes, out of making every possible effort to yank out his hair. Once I was satisfied I stepped back to admire the effect.


Potter just stood there and took it. When I stopped, his only reaction was to reach up and wipe the frosting as best he could, take off his glasses and clean them on the hem of his shirt then jam them back on his face, without the slightest trace of embarrassment or anger. As if enraged girls often came and threw pie at him!


As the rest of the world came crashing back, I realized a crowd had formed around us, no doubt to watch me smear pie over the great and wonderful James Potter. McGonagall had re-gained her composure and was trying very hard to make her way through the crowd, with very little success. The other teachers were scurrying away from the staff table as well. And before I could decide whether I would proceed to yell at the King of Lemon-Meringue or plead with McGonagall that I was not responsible for my actions because I had been channelling some cracked and twisted spirit, bent upon framing me (I still don’t know which I would have done), I was very greatly distracted. Potter took a pitcher of pumpkin juice from the Gryffindor table and chucked the contents down my shirt.


I gasped tremendously. The cold liquid soaked my shirt, knickers, skirt…even my socks! A few ice-cubes stuck themselves in my bra. I stared down at my drenched self with an open mouth; all sense of preservation abandoned once more, and then glanced up at Potter. He was openly staring at my chest, trying his hardest not to smirk. I did not see the crowd’s reaction, but I was later told that all eyes and mouths were wide and staring. All except McGonagall’s. Her eyes were narrowed and her mouth formed that thin line all students have learned to mean ‘you’d better have a very good reason!’


At that moment I had not a care in the world for the consequences of my actions. Anger does tend to have that effect upon me. Breathing heavily and loudly, my face steaming so much I was certain I could have fried an egg on it, I picked up a platter of mashed-potatoes from the Ravenclaw table. I turned to face Potter with what I suspected to be a very ugly smile on my lips. His eyes widened at the sight of the huge platter of mashed vegetables.


“Take this you unethical, bird-brained, crap-mouthed, pathetic and despicable dolt!” I cried and hurled the platter as hard as I could toward his enormous head.


It would have been a hit. It would have! If he hadn’t been so damned sneaky and clever, that is. He ducked.


The mashed-potatoes disengaged themselves from the platter, splattering the floor and some on-lookers. But the worst part was that the platter continued its projection right over James’s ducked head. It thwacked a fifth year Slytherin prefect in the stomach. Not a particularly nice and forgiving Slytherin, either. Everyone in the hall watched in suspense (except McGonagall who was attempting to threaten her way through the horde of students, of course) as the large girl cursed me, picked up a near-by chicken wing and sent it hurtling my way.


For the first time in my life I followed Potter’s example and ducked down beside him. Just in time, too. Instead, the chicken wing intended for me sailed over my head and hit Peter in the face.


He yelped like a mouse and smacked his hands over his face in agony.


“My eyes! My eyes! I’ve gone blind, somebody, help me!” he cried, clutching at those particular parts.


Some shouted out in worry, others laughed. The Slytherin was not mollified. With similar aggressiveness she chucked another wing. Once again, I ducked. She obviously wasn’t very bright. This time the victims were some innocent second years, laughing merrily at Peter’s misfortune.


Those nasty little sprites had absolutely no aim, which is what I would have blamed the whole bloody fight on, but no… Anyway, a member of their little clan was hit by a projectile chicken-wing and the rest of those angry little urchins retaliated, mercilessly throwing every sliver of food (most were salads, though), in the general direction of the Slytherin. Some straggling peas hit me in the face. A tomato became lost in Albert Gibson’s afro, which he did not find at all amusing, rather worthy of revenge, in fact. Tonia Edwards and Victor Hedge, the snobbiest idiots alive, did not take the in-immaculate state of their ‘stylish’ lime-green boots amiably. I never thought I’d see the day they would forsake their Galleons worth of manicures purposelessly flinging stake into the air.


Soon after these little episodes, all became madness. ‘Chuck food for you life’ was the motto, and we all followed it reverently. Food flew in every direction from every direction. The air was not only filled with a colossal number of edible things, but shouts, curses, threats and laughter. I vaguely realized Peter had hidden under the table, still nursing his so-called blinded eyes. Sirius had taken an empty bowl and placed it over his head like a helmet, as means to protect his oh-so-perfect hair and was chucking anything at anyone so long as he was sure his hair was safe. Sophie and Rich told me later that they had decided not to take part until a first year gleefully threw jelly at them without apologizing adequately. Right. Sure.


My only adversary, however, was Potter. Once under the cover of hundreds of other students who’d taken my initiative, I recommenced what we’d started. I grabbed a bowl of gravy from a passing Hufflepuff and dumped it all over Potter’s head. He in turn grabbed me in a headlock, taking rude advantage of the fact I am smaller and more delicate, not releasing me even when I began to shout things that would have made my Great Aunt Polly sit up in her grave. He brought my head around and dunked it in a vat of string-bean casserole.


I groaned loudly in aggravation, fury, and detestation. I groped around for something to throw and my hand came around a dish of rice. I promptly threw it at the Brainless King of Prats (he’d recently been promoted). He swerved to the right, avoiding the collision and, to my utter horror, the bowl smacked little Professor Flitwick in the head as he had been trying to pull apart two third years who had resorted to the use of plates to whack each other with and were yelling things that led me to believe they were fighting over a pair of socks. The girls stopped momentarily to reassure themselves that the knocked over Professor was indeed still alive and, once certain, returned to their thorough whacking. My view of the knocked over little man was obstructed by a head wearing a bowl as a hat, however.


Sirius grinned madly at me and tried to spread bolognaise in my already filthy hair. I didn’t give him the chance; I ducked down and rammed him in the stomach with my bean-sauce covered head.


“Oof!” he uttered doubling over.


In that moment of vulnerability a group of girls took him over, giggling to such an extent it had to be unhealthy, and judging by Sirius’s desperate screams of terror, removed his makeshift helmet. I spared him no fleeting thought.


I spotted Potter standing on the Gryffindor table and leapt to join but slipped in ketchup and grabbed onto him for support, yanking us both down. His arse landed directly in a pudding of some sort, to my great amusement. But then, to my great displeasure, he shoved some cooked asparagus down my shirt. What was it with him and stuffing things in my shirt?


I snatched butter from a butter dish and crawled over to mush it against his shirt and smear it. I moved away when he tried to grab me. I took a step back and found another butter dish with butter in it and snatched it up. I stood, slapped James in the face when he tried to throw a tomato at me, stuffed the butter in his shirt and proceeded to squash from the outside.


I became aware of something light and soft raining on my head. When I looked up what do I see but Peeves, the school poltergeist, sprinkling me and James with pink and red confetti? Apparently he thinks that a food-fight is the place to be. But anonymous and hypothetical reader, don’t make the mistake of confusing him with an uglier version of cupid; he had an enormous amount of spaghetti sauce in a tub as well.


“Why looky-looky! It’s Potty and Evans fighting on a table. Say, does Evans want some sauce to match her lovely hair?” he cackled evilly, with a wide and evil smile.


Before I could yell at him that ‘no’, I did not want tomato sauce lobbed at my head, he lobbed some anyway. I do believe I screamed for the second time that night and attempted to aim everything around me at Peeves. He just floated away and dumped some sauce over McGonagall’s tight bun.


I decided that smearing more butter over Potter’s chest was a productive way to take out my frustration on the world. It took me a while to realize that he was not retaliating. He was standing there, staring at me. I looked up.


The look on his face made me stop what I was doing. In one movement he’d pulled my arms forward and held them behind his back so that our chests were completely against each other’s. I became aware of the fact my shirt was see-through and was sticking to the spot where I’d smeared butter onto his skin. My heart rate went up. I felt it was about to jump right out of my mouth.


“Lily…it wasn’t what it looked like,” he whispered in urgency. “You’ve got no idea what he said.”


“Oh yeah?” I burst at him, yanking and yanking pointlessly, trying to break free. My voice was even agrier as I cried, “Well if it was anything along the lines of ‘Lily is my girlfriend and you should stay away from her, you effing bastard’ then I’m not inclined to hate him for it!”


My words came out quickly; I barely knew how I managed to speak at all. I wasn’t truly as convinced as I sounded, for some reason.


“You think he’s such a hero, don’t you?”


He had yanked me even closer now, to my great dismay and fury. I tried mightily to stomp on his feet, but he moved them away. We looked like we were doing a complicated sort of waltz.


All that unwanted proximity was making my head spin. With anger of course. Just anger.


“He is much better than you will ever be!” I exclaimed sounding as convicted as I could.


James’s face was so close I could see the speckles of brown and green in his eyes through his glasses. His next words sent shivers down my spine because of the pure fury in his voice.


“He doesn’t deserve you.”


Well. That was definitely profound, on many levels. It was that fact that made me stop resisting, not the way he looked from this close.


“Why are you saying that?” I choked out.


“Because it’s true,” he answered, still holding me fast.


“You expect me to believe you?”


“For crying out loud, Lily!” he shouted, shoving me away. I was transfixed by what looked like need on his face as he went on angrily, “Why do you have to be so damned difficult? You can’t see what is right in front of your face. You’re blind!”


I was overwhelmed. I was horrified to find tears hovering behind my eyes. My indignation took over things, instead of my sensibility.


“And you’re a liar! I will never believe you!” I leapt off the table, needing to be away from him, and thoroughly splashed myself in a puddle of juice.


Oblivious to our little war, the house elves down in the kitchen had started sending up the second helpings. Things were just as insane as when they had started. The teachers were running around like lunatics, trying to control all the madness. There were students yelling on the table, taking aim from underneath, and some had turned over the benches as means of cover. The ammunition was scattered all over the floor. A true battlefield. My throat hurt a lot and felt too small all of a sudden. I was going to cry and I did not want to do so in front of Potter.


I took a scoop of strawberry ice cream and threw it at his head.


“You’re a liar!” I shouted.


I did not stick around to see it hit its mark. I fled the hall, still sopping wet and filthy from head to toe.








And that is basically how it all happened. On Sunday all the students were called into the Great Hall, and that is where we all spent the day, like a big detention. The night before that, the Supreme Git of the World and I were summoned to the Headmaster’s office, where we were told how disappointed they were in us and how they never would have expected such outlandishly primitive behaviour (their exact words, I tell you) from the Head Boy and Girl of the school. I felt very awful and bawled a great deal. The Git didn’t seem affected but then again he has no feelings.


Yes I admit, I was curious about my so-called blindness he referred to, and I questioned Terry later about that, but today I don’t have time to relate it. I have only a few minutes to finish expressing my outrage that anyone could have forgiven the maggot for all those things. And me too, for that matter, but modesty aside, I am frankly an all round better person and more forgivable. I don’t understand how McGonagall can sit there smiling like that. Has she any idea how long it will take to wash away the stain from Peeves’charmed sauce off of her robes? I know mine still isn’t back to normal. And it’s a good thing my hair is already red, because I’ve seen people walking around with red streaks. That boy is just…beyond words. And nobody seems to mind, but me. Argghhhh!


Well, I am sure that they have all been brainwashed and once I find out how to reverse it, they will all heartily thank me and happily assist me as I run after the oaf with a pitchfork.


I am now off to my blissfully free, free, free weekend. I just won’t get tired of saying that. Free! Oh the joy! I will spend the whole time hiding in my dorm, the only place Potter really cannot stalk me to.


Lily Evans















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Well, hey! We made it to the food-fight, finally! Please, if you won’t review but one chapter, let it be this one! It’s the most important. Tell me…did I overdue it? Was it funny…anything! Thank you to everyone who has favorited me and this story and left such nice reviews! I'm overwhelmed! Thanks to my amazing beta, JC_Cainstone, without whose help this would suck. And if you've got some time, check out my Ron/Hermione one-shot, Reason for Beauty, if you haven't yet. If you do, I hope you like it!







Time to review!

(NOTE TO THE MOD: if this is rejected please e-mail me with the reasons. Thanks!)



Tenth detention...and the evil genius blossoming within


Dear possibly non-existent reader, it has been a very long time since I could actually continue to use this parchment as the detention journal it was meant to be. McGonagall has taken to sending us up to the library this past week to do research. Normally I would not mind the research; I would actually find it a lot more enjoyable than sitting in her office and trying my utmost to ignore Potter’s non-ceasing attempts to catch my attention. But the research she has us do is very…odd.

She is having the two of us look up several books about medieval wizard wars and the various reasons for which they began and having us state our opinions about the pointlessness or necessity of the wars in question. She also had us compose a poem of all things, a poem on forgiveness. She even had us do a ridiculous essay on a Muggle saying something along the lines of, ‘Love the sinner, and hate the sin’. I really have no idea what her intentions are, she truly is a tad nonsensical.

You may ask why I have landed myself in this situation. Well, I’ll tell you. On Monday, February 23rd, in front of the Potion’s dungeon, Potter and I got into…well, a little spat, really. Truly an insignificant and trivial misunderstanding, which just so happened to involve me discovering a replica of the flower I had received on Valentine’s Day in my school bag and my Transfiguration textbook making rough contact with Potter’s head. It really was no reason to go over the moon. Injustice always prevails upon me.

Well, today is Friday the 27th of February; I am back in McGonagall’s office and will continue to tell my woeful tale. Where was I? Oh, yes, interrogating Terry…


We were sitting in the library together, pretending to be intent upon some Charms homework during the few hours before my misery would begin, on the Monday after the food-fight. I had just filled Terry in on everything. I told him about receiving a poem and flower; not knowing who it was from and about how I finally found out from Pettigrew. I left out the part about me being entranced by this poem and flower. I shouldn’t burden him with the errors of my past. He really doesn’t have to know about that.

He told me he had left the Hospital Wing and gone looking for me around the castle, with no results. So he went to the Great Hall and Potter confronted him there. He got that far before he started fidgeting and glancing around. The only other people in the library were a group of second-years bent over a bright magenta banner of some sort and a couple, presumably Albert Gibson, because of the big puff of hair, and Tonia Edwards, because of the severely lime-green boots.

“My goodness!” Terry exclaimed, feigning disbelief and interest in the recent romantic discovery. “It looks like he is trying to suck her face off, doesn’t it?”

I restrained myself from rolling my eyes at his complete lack of subtlety and snapped my fingers in front of his face, saying, “Terry! Hell-o! What was it that Potter was arguing with you about?”

He bit his lip and glanced at me quickly before looking toward the second years with the magenta banner. He seemed to gasp in surprise and admiration, “Wow, look at that! The Gobstones club really out-did themselves this year with their banner. What fantastic shading! I really am impressed-”

“Terry!” I yelled at him, losing the little patience I do possess. “If I actually cared about the Gobstones club I would have joined a long time ago. Stop stalling and tell me what it was Potter was saying to you!”

I ignored the disgruntled and indignant glances I received from the Gobstones club and continued to stare expectantly at my boyfriend. At first he was staring grumpily at the table in front of him. Then he spewed out something that made me intrigued.

“Why does he bother you so much?”

“Well,” I thought over my answer for a while before going on, “he just always has. He is so arrogant and such a bully and he thinks I’m like all the other girls that throw themselves at him with nothing but a look from him. And even after I’ve made it quite plain that I am not about to let him woo me and would much rather turn him into a shish-kabob, he still keeps it up. I hate it. I hate him! Now, tell me what he said!”

Terry looked at me this time. He didn’t say anything to me for a long time. Then he began slowly.

“Look, Lily…you understand that I don’t dislike Potter nearly as much as you - because I don’t think there really is any one in the world that does - but I certainly don’t like him. At all. He’s done enough along the past few months to try and separate us to make me…well, hate him. When I showed up in the Great Hall he started bombarding me with the usual…you know, ‘You aren’t the right guy for Lily, you should just leave her alone…’ and a ton of other rude things that I won’t even bother to repeat. Well, it made me angry, and yeah, I guess I shouldn’t have let him get to me, but he did. So…well I said some rude things right back to him. Stuff I don’t normally say at all. You understand. I called him a name or two…”

I didn’t need to hear anymore. Terry was such an honourable guy; he couldn’t bear to repeat a few indecencies in front of me. He even felt slightly ashamed of having said anything to Potter, a grace I cannot achieve. And the oaf had said he didn’t deserve me. Ha! It was me who didn’t deserve him. In all of my past experiences with boys, Potter has found a way to thwart any feelings they may have felt for me, but not Terry. He has stuck with me, and I adore him for that.

I smiled at him as he continued to look flustered. I inched my chair closer to his.

“It’s okay, I understand. You don’t have to say another word.”

He looked very surprised, as if he had expected me to chop his head off at this nefarious crime he committed. He looked even more surprised as I moved closer, so that our chairs were against each other’s. For the briefest moment I was reminded of the way Potter and I had been arguing during the battle. But I quickly pushed it out, as I smiled mischievously at my boyfriend.

“I was thinking…”

He watched my hand as it made its way up to his shoulder. A smile threatened to form on his lips, to which I gave my full and unabashed attention.

“Thinking about...?” Terry urged me on.

“About how we didn’t have a proper Valentine’s day,” I said suggestively. His smile was very naughty after that.

“Well, we’ve got to fix that, now, haven’t we?” he whispered before eliminating the remaining space between our lips.

His hands made it to my face and down my back very quickly as I placed my arms around his shoulders. I found myself being shifted onto his lap, giggling a little as he did so. He supported the back of my head with his hand and pulled me toward him for another kiss.

That bliss lasted about a full ten seconds before someone rudely interrupted our snogging session by pushing a book from the shelf behind us onto our heads.

“Sorry,” a muffled voice apologized. Then we heard the sounds of scurrying feet and Madame Pince’s sharp reprimand.

“No running in the library! No running or I’ll have Filch make you wish you'd never been born!"

I rubbed my head as Terry did the same. We glanced at each other amusedly. I noticed his lips looked a little red. That made me feel pleased. I put my arms back around him and grinned.

He kissed me again, but this time shorter.

“As much as I do enjoy this and would prefer you stick around for another hour, I know you wouldn’t be happy with me knowing I made you late for detention,” he whispered to my lips, a slight pout on his own.

The good feeling was gone.

“Yeah…I guess…” I made a face and folded my arms around my chest, becoming surly.

Terry laughed, as he said reasonably, “It can’t be that bad. And I’m available to cheer you up once you come out of there. I think I know of a certain something that would do the trick.” He stood up and took my hand, before moving forward to kiss me again.


Well, there you have it, my unknown reader. We have reached the end of the road. That is how my story goes. Adios, my possibly non-existent, dedicated reader. The end! It’s over…hey, wait a minute!

It has just occurred to me that this isn’t a very good ending. There was no ‘happily ever after’. Of course, for that to actually happen, Potter would have to move to Nebraska - or Pluto, rather, Nebraska is not far enough- but still. This can’t be the end! Injustice has prevailed, insanity still roams around, and taking in more and more victims every day and Potter still hasn’t given up on me, even after I threw pie at him. No, this story will continue, I have to make a better ending. Besides, what will I have to write about to occupy my sessions in hell?

It is truly, truly unfair that Potter manages to infuriate me to miraculous extents and all I have ever done to him was provoke an insane attraction towards myself, a situation in which I am the victim. Oh, what I would give to make him pay! Him and his whole stupid tribe of miscreants - all except Remus Lupin, of course, who was not present during the one and only Hogwarts Food-fight, and when he returned back from visiting another terminally ill relative, Tuesday to be precise, he apologized for his friend’s abominable behaviour. I would take them and I would…well, I haven’t really thought about it, but I am sure it would be gruesome, deserving, amazingly organized, mortifying, spectacularly intelligent…basically the product of sheer evil genius-ness.

And do you know what? Why shouldn’t I seek revenge? Surely anyone would consent he deserves it. And nothing would make me happier than to administrate said revenge upon the ignorant criminal. After all, he is the one to blame that I am stuck in this disgraceful situation. I know that he is also stuck here with me, but it isn’t a disgrace to him. He probably greatly enjoys it.

So that’s settled then, I will come up with a brilliant plan to bring upon Potter, Black and Pettigrew - but especially Potter - the same shame and unhappiness they have brought upon me. I’m excited now. I am literally beaming and bouncing upon my chair like a yo-yo. McGonagall and The Pest have turned to stare curiously at me…maybe I should stop.

But I am excited. I can’t wait! All I have to do now is come up with the brilliant plan. I should ask Rich for help. I know Sophie won’t help me to bring anything upon her darling Sirius, as she is sadly under his malicious spell and out of her mind - she actually thought that me and Potter fighting on top of the table was romantic! That just goes to show, doesn’t it…she’s absolutely senile. But Rich probably won’t mind. As long as my plan doesn’t involve a trip either to St. Mungo’s or Azkaban, that is. So if we steer clear of both establishments, I am pretty sure he is willing. Oh, how enthralling!

Potter is sitting there looking absolutely perplexed by my obvious and excessive excitement. I just flashed him one of his trademark mischievous grins. Now he looks to be on the border of terror. The look on his face right now is priceless. I only wish he still carried the bruise my Transfiguration textbook left on his forehead. Or the lemon-meringue pie I spread in his hair. I could just almost die happy.

Lily Evans, Beginner Evil Genius.

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So...dissapointed...satisfied...what! Tell me anything at all!

Also, to anyone who would like to, you can tell me what you think Lily should do as revenge. Who knows...and I'd give you a humongous thanks! And a humoungous thanks also to my beta, the wonderful JC_Cainstone!

I have a dark/angst fic coming up, and if any of you would like to take a break from laughing at Lily and her obsession with insanity to get a little teary...I would love you for it! To be honest, of everything I've written it is what I am most proud of. Granted, I haven't written very much but, well...

Review!!!! Please, of course.

Dear possibly non-existent reader, I suck at revenge. I am a pathetic excuse for a person seeking vengeance. I stink. I am hopeless. I do not deserve the praise I receive for my intelligence. I have absolutely no talent when it comes to that. I am laughably disastrous. I go way past mediocre. I’ve run out of ways in which to degrade myself. Not that I deserve that, mind you.

Not only was my revenge completely silly and useless, it also backfired. The only thing I gained from it was more quality time with James Potter and lying in a Hospital Wing bed for two days. I am a formless idiot.

And I was also wrong about Rich wanting to help. Apparently, James helped him hook up with one of the fifth year players on the Quidditch team and now he is eternally grateful, or some similar shit like that. He could not for the life of him do anything to help me wrong James Potter. Well, he doesn’t understand that I am not wronging anyone, I am merely giving the Twit what he’s earned. Either way, Rich won’t help and will also rarely unglue himself from his new girlfriend. Add that to the fact that Terry is often with his study group, and Sophie is presently always with Sirius. It is understandable that I was quite lonely this whole past week and that should have given me time to think up a decent plan, right? No, wrong. This brings me back to my complete lack of revengeful skills.

So, the only thing I could think up was to play on him the kind of prank him and his mates were so fond of a while back. The kind that doesn’t get me into more trouble since that is the last thing I need right now. Okay, so today it is…what day is it...? Ah, yes, of course, it is Monday the sixth of March. This is how my revenge went…


Early in the morning of Thursday I snuck up into the seventh year boy’s dorm, wand in hand. I had a ridiculous little idea of a way to humiliate him. But then, I had a ton of such little ideas that I thought, if added together, would be adequate enough. So I snuck up into their dorm, making sure I was extremely quiet, made my silent way towards Potter’s bed and pulled back the curtains.

Did you know the boy snores like hell? It sounded like an earthquake. He was laying there, his mouth wide and deafening, with the blankets shoved off his chest completely. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either, I noticed before I averted my eyes quickly. I then glanced down at his lower half and tentatively reached out a hand to push back the blankets. I then proceeded to take out my wand and aim an aguamenti between his legs.

I stepped away, very pleased. It looked as if he’d wet himself and I knew his friends would not let him hear the end of it if they saw that. The problem was that he began to wake.

He blinked his eyes groggily and focused them on my horrified self frowning.

“What are you doing here?” His words were slurred and his eyes kept closing again. He was still half asleep. I decided to take that to my advantage.

“Nothing James. Go back to sleep,” I whispered, easing my way toward the door.

He was still blinking stupidly at me. He lifted himself off the bed a little. I couldn’t help glance at his chest again. He may be an idiot but I can’t deny he is…well…sort of fit. Although, that doesn’t hold an ounce of importance. Really.

“Why are you in my room?” he asked.

“It’s…” I said with a shaking voice and beating heart as my hand made contact with the handle. “It’s just a dream, James. Now, go back to sleep.”

He stared for a few more seconds before flopping back onto his pillows. He had begun to snore again.

I rolled my eyes and sighed in relief as I eased myself out. As far as I was concerned the first part of ‘Operation Humiliate Potter’ (I didn’t really name it that, I just think it’s a good name) was a complete success with a minor miscalculation.

And indeed, when they entered the Great Hall for breakfast Sirius was laughing heartily at some joke he had made along with Peter. Remus looked as if he wanted to laugh but tried to hide it. And James…he looked a little mortified. He was bright red, with pursed lips, and he looked at the floor rather than at his friends. I beamed.

To my great pleasure they sat not too far from me. Well, it wasn’t coincidental or anything because Sirius chose to sit directly beside Sophie, who was sitting across from me. He didn’t make anymore jokes about Potter’s ‘accident’ in our presence, sadly enough. I would have liked to hear some. Though I did, with difficulty, hear him mutter to his best friend, “So, were you dreaming of Evans last night?”

Potter glowered at him and looked away, still slightly red in the face.

Well, it didn’t take long for him to recover. By first period he was already back to his normal self and so were his friends. He glanced at me like he always did, though he looked more confused than anything these times. Perhaps he remembered part of our brief encounter.

The next step of my plan was executed in the History of Magic classroom. I chose that class because Professor Binns is so disconnected from the world of the living I doubt he would notice if a bomb went off right under his nose. Anticipating where Potter would sit (as he always sat in the same place, the right chair of the middle back aisle) I placed an odorizing pellet I’d found in Rich’s trunk upon it and placed a Disillusionment charm on it. Then I went to sit at my seat, waiting for the rest of the class to arrive and to humiliate Potter once more.

Well, five minutes later the whole class had arrived. Everyone but Potter and his clan, that is. This is where my plan starts to go wrong.

I waited some more in anxiety, but he didn’t show up and neither did his friends. And then, to my absolute horror, Remus and Peter came in, just the two of them, and took Sirius and James’s usual seats.

Yes, Remus Lupin, the boy I have absolutely nothing against, made himself the victim of the prank intended for Potter by sitting in his friend’s seat. I resisted the urge to moan by biting down on my lip so severely it bled a little. I smacked my hands over my head and stomped my feet. What was I to do? I was in agony; I felt so guilty. Remus may sometimes overlook his mate’s stupid antics but he didn’t deserve this.

Well, I had to risk getting caught by casting a non-verbal de-odorizing charm toward him. Luckily, I did not get caught, but that would be the only lucky thing that would happen to me there on after.

Instead of blaming myself for this little incident, I blamed it on Potter for not attending class. Had he not skipped the lesson I would not have accidentally made Remus smell like a pig. It was true. Of course, I had some blame too for wanting to make Potter smell like a pig in the first place. But he deserves it, so that’s beside the point.

So, after two lessons went by and it was time for lunch I went after Potter through the hallways in the hopes that I could carry out another one of my pranks. There was one I liked very much that involved a whoopee-cushion and another one involving some magical handcuffs. One might think it was strange that I get excited about such things, like breaking the rules, because it isn’t something I usually do. Well, let’s just say Potter has a way to turn my life entirely upside down. And I do not like it; I do not like it at all.

I also did not like the fact Potter and Black had missed class. Not for the reasons every other girl in school would not like it, not because I missed the distraction their baffling beauty provided (yes, I have heard several girls claim the exact thing, what of it?), no, but because whenever they skip class it means they are up to something. And whenever James Potter is up to something, you can bet Lily Evans will somehow end up involved. And Lily Evans does not like being involved with James Potter. If you, hypothetical reader, have read all the way here from the beginning you will find that events rarely take Lily Evans’s wishes into consideration. The universe is in absolute love with me, isn’t it obvious?

So, there I was, searching and searching. I did not even notice the time go by. I really didn’t, honestly. I did notice however, when Potter came running through a corridor to my left and collided painfully with me, knocking us both to the floor. It is hard not to notice someone when they are lying on top of you.

“Get off, you oaf!” I screamed, whacking him on the chest repeatedly.

His eyes and mouth were very wide as he stuttered, “L-Lily! What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, now would you mind moving?” I continued to pound his chest to no avail.

“You were looking for me?” he asked curiously as he lifted his weight from me to support himself on his arms. That still didn’t allow me anyway to escape though. “Why?” he persisted.

“I-said-MOVE!” I yelled. I used all of my strength to push at his shoulder, but he only chuckled at my feeble attempts.

Physical strength better not be of any importance in the future. If it is, I am doomed.

Potter finally lifted himself off of me and offered his hand to help me up. I ignored it and began to wipe myself as I stood. He scowled at the action and proceeded to wipe himself as well, in a ridiculously exaggerated way.

Frowning, I put my hands on my hips and asked, “So, why did you miss History of Magic?”

He frowned at me as well, tilting his head to the side suspiciously and retorting, “Why are you so interested?”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “You know Potter; I could report you to McGonagall for skipping.”

He blinked for a while then threw his head back and howled with laughter.

“God, Lily, how would you tell her that the method you used to catch me skipping class was skipping yourself?”

I gasped and glanced at my watch. He was right; I was ten minutes late for Transfiguration. Groaning, I turned around and ran as fast as I could toward the third floor.

Potter was following me, still laughing. Obviously to him being late for class is something normal. No cause for alarm, no need to panic. Well, excuse me if I can’t be that nonchalant. I was freaking out; I had never been late to class. Why was it that Potter inspired the first times of so many things I wished never to do?

“Lily, Merlin, calm down. And why were you off looking for me during class?”

“Because Potter, I missed you terribly and couldn’t wait another second to proclaim my deep devotion to you. Because you can’t be left unsupervised, you idiot! I just know you’re up to something.”

Despite the situation, it always felt good to throw some cutting sarcasm at him.

“I was at the Headmaster’s, Lily; I wasn’t plotting anything against you. You can go ask Dumbledore himself, if you feel the need to,” he told me, as we made it onto the third floor. My heart was beating faster as we approached the classroom door.

I truly couldn’t have been stupider if I had been getting paid for it. But I would rather go skinny-dipping in the Lake while watched by a very large audience than admit that to Potter so I grumbled, “Well, at least one of us has an alibi.” And then I opened the door.

The whole class turned around to stare at us as we burst through the door, flushed and breathless. The threatening look was beginning to form on McGonagall’s face and people were giving us very curious looks as well. My mouth had gone dry. Professor McGonagall was standing there, expecting me to give her a worthy excuse as to why I was late. I didn’t have one.

But before I could say a word, Potter spoke up.

“Sorry we were late Professor. We were speaking to Dumbledore about some of our Head duties and lost track of time. But the Professor said it would be okay.” He smiled apologetically and moved to take his seat next to Sirius, who still had his eyebrows raised at us.

“Oh, fine, fine,” Professor McGonagall waved it off. “Now, every one return to your reading of chapter nine.”

I didn’t move. I stared gapingly at Potter who busied himself by searching for his book. I couldn’t believe it. James Potter, do something courageous and gentlemanly? I felt like I was in some sort of alternate universe.

“Miss Evans, why haven’t you taken your seat?” McGonagall asked me.

I scurried away to a seat in the back and took out my book, still in shock. I glanced over at Potter. He smiled and winked at me then returned to his reading. I couldn’t help but blush, even though I hated myself for it.

I read the same line in my Transfiguration book about eight times without taking in a word of what it said.

So, fine, I admit: I was an idiot. I know that now. Unfortunately, ‘now’ is the key word in that last sentence. By that I mean that I did not know it then. At the time I was horribly embarrassed and refused to admit I had gotten carried away. Which led me to continue Operation Humiliate Potter. This is where things go really wrong.

I decided to lay low for a day. Boy, how that day lasted long. I hated being at Potter’s mercy. It was horrible. I wanted things to go back to the safe game of ‘you like me, but I hate you’. I wanted to try a few more pranks on him. After all, he wouldn’t know it was me.

Saturday morning, before anyone should be awake at all, I was back in the boy’s dorm. This time I was tying Potter’s shoelaces together. I know, I know…childish, but I did have better things up my sleeve. I just never got the chance to carry them through.

Well, I decided for some godforsaken reason that it wouldn’t hurt to listen at the door of their dorm, just to hear Potter trip and fall to the ground.

So there I sat, crouched down with my ear to the door listening to Sirius beat Peter with a pillow for waking him up by falling out of bed. Then, I listened to Remus lecture them on how to properly sort out their disagreements. And then along came Potter and told Remus to shut up, he liked watching them bicker. Remus sighed and told them all he gave up; they were going straight to hell. No, maybe that was just my fertile imagination getting the better of me.

Here comes the good part. I was sitting there snickering when the door opened. Remus stood there staring at me. He frowned.

“Lily, what are you doing at our door?”

Before I had the chance to be properly mortified, Potter called out jubilantly, “Evans!”

He had on jeans and no shirt and was stuffing his trainer on while he hopped around on the other, making his way toward the door. He, apparently, did not notice the lace stretched between both his feet. He was smiling very big. That is, until he put his other foot down and tried to take an actual step. Then he began to look very unhappy indeed.

He tripped, just as I hoped he would. But he didn’t land on the floor, no, he landed on me for the second time that week. He had hopped all the way to the door, and once he got there he took a step out towards me. That is where gravity did its thing. I screamed, and he screamed. I was knocked backward, and he was hurtled face first at me. We rolled all the way down the spiral stairs, hitting the wall repeatedly as we went down, cursing and waking up every house member and quite possibly every other living being within five miles of us.

Possibly non-existent reader, have you ever fallen down a flight of stairs? Let me tell you, it is not fun. I landed in a heap on the common room floor to loud gasping and shrieking. I could feel my arm bent in a funny way, and my ankle was dripping blood into my socks. My head hurt so bad it felt like there was a heavy metal band playing inside of it. As if that weren’t enough, along came Potter again to land on top of me. Needless to say, it was a wonderful experience.


I hope that explains how I landed in the Hospital Wing. I broke my arm, my ankle, fractured my skull and my body was so bruised even the pillows hurt it. Potter was just as bad, only he passed out immediately after landing on top of me. Convenient, no?

Madame Pomfrey kept us in there for two days. And yes, I felt very guilty and stupid throughout those two days. I also could not sleep at night because of the awful medicine Madame Pomfrey gave us for internal scarring and yes, I actually held a conversation with Potter which consisted of more than hate, disdain, sarcasm and unreturned feelings. But no time for that now.

Well, I will be back tomorrow, so fear not. Right now I need to go reflect some more on how tying someone’s shoelaces together is an act of pure evil. I should know.

Lily Evans.


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Okay, so now you don't hate me because you've finally read this, right? Oh, you still hate me...oh, okay, *sniffs*...

First, I'd like to say thanks and goodbye to my old beta, JC_Cainstone. You were great and I'll miss you! *sniffs again* And also, thanks to my new and equally wonderful beta cAughtonFire!

Also, to all of you who read my Ron/Hermoine one-shot, A Reason for Beauty, the Harry/Ginny sequel is now up. It's called A Reason to Hope and I secretly like it even better...and to those of you who didn't, it's up anyway...*hinthint*...

So, thanks to everyone who gave me ideas. I think by now you know how much I love reviews, right? Doesn't that little piece of information just make you want to pout your soul out to that beautiful white box down there..? No? Oh, okay. *Sniffs again*

Hello again, hypothetical, anonymous reader. I have no fancy greeting for you today, sadly enough. Not that you should care, seeing as you are possibly just an inanimate object that I have taken to referring to as a confidant. An unwilling and pity- deserving confidant, but a confidant nonetheless. On to my informal greeting; it is Tuesday the 16th of March and hello.

Rich’s new girlfriend called me ‘Laureenia’ today. She seems nice enough; though, I have hardly talked to her since her mouth is usually much more occupied with other things, such as extracting a grape from Rich’s teeth. But really, she is a bit slow. Her name is Maura; she is very tall and very slim with long blonde hair and dark eyes. But how on earth did she get ‘Laureenia’ out of ‘Lily’? I admit I was very insulted. ‘Laureenia’ isn’t an extremely horrible name, but I had the misfortune of being neighbours with a revolting girl of the same name when I was ten. I hate to even recall it, since my system is always sort of queasy when I do, but the girl pulled apart worms for Merlin’s sake! Maybe I shouldn’t have been so bothered by the mistake, but I’ve been sort of edgy lately (thanks to none other than �“ guess who! Yes, the bumbling ignoramus, however did you guess? �“ I mean, Potter). So when she said, “Laureenia, please pass the bowl of oatmeal?” I answered, “Why of course, Meredith.”

I don’t see why Rich got so angry at me. Meredith is a much prettier name than Laureenia.

I just realized I spent a good five minutes of my life wasting my hand away to complain that I was called Laureenia by a girl with the IQ of a flamingo. Goodness, what has happened to me? Oh, yes of course, Potter. That’s what’s happened to me.

If I recall correctly I left off my story at my last detention right about when I was sent to the Hospital Wing.


So there I was, lying on the common room floor, dripping blood onto the carpet and screaming bloody murder while James snoozed on top of me. He was actually making these strange sounds from the back of his throat, and at that moment I thought he was snoring. Though, it was actually just him choking on blood from his split lip that had gone down the wrong pipe. Well, I made enough noise for the both of us, as it was.

“Oh my goodness!” Remus screamed as he made his way down the stairs we had just toppled from and into the common room now crowded with gaping on-lookers. He knelt down before us. “Are you alright?”

I don’t know how any coherent thought entered my head, but even so, I yelled at him, “Does it look like I’m alright?”

“Prongs?” he asked, nudging James and pulling at his limp arm, “come on, Prongs, get up!”

I didn’t stop to wonder what in the world ‘Prongs’ meant, I just kept on thrashing and yelling, “Don’t just sit there and wait for him to wake up, get him off me!”

After that, several people busied themselves by pulling Potter up and grasping him tightly by his bare arms. His head continued to droop and blood dripped from his mouth.

“Lily,” gasped Rich, appearing out of nowhere. “What happened? Are you okay?” He helped to lift me, and I leaned on him, because my leg hurt when I tried to support my weight on it.

“We fell down the stairs, and no, I am not okay.” I bit at my lip, drawing even more blood, due to the intense headache I was getting. My head felt too heavy for my shoulders, and the rest of me felt too heavy for my legs. Also, my arm was twisted back into a sickening position, and a horrible purple bruise was blooming around my elbow.

“We have to bring them to the Hospital Wing,” Sirius announced to the room in general. He didn’t seem to care that he was wearing only a pair of red boxers, though most of the girls in the room found this little fact of great importance.

So, Potter and I were carried through the castle and toward the Infirmary by practically half of Gryffindor house, headed by Sirius in boxers (which, I assume, was the reason that the grand majority of people following us were girls). James was still making the same chocking sounds I assumed were snores, while I was feeling like a fool and also a little guilty. Potter hadn’t exactly stirred, and I was beginning to become worried. Or maybe my horrible mood was only due to the fact I was broken and beat. That would seem more likely, wouldn’t it?

Madame Pomfrey wasn’t very pleased when we arrived. She began to fuss incessantly over us, demanding that there be only six visitors at a time. So everyone dispersed, except for Sirius (still in his boxers), Remus, and Peter. Rich had gone to call Sophie. Even so, they all waited outside the doors.

“How on earth did you manage this?” the Healer asked distractedly, bustling around after having mended my ankle and arm and working on James’s various fractures.

“Uh…I was…coming down the stairs, and…I mean, I tripped and then…my shoes, you know…he was in the way so I…”I sighed. Excuses were obviously not my strong point. I was almost as bad at them as I was at revenge. “We fell,” I muttered lamely.

She didn’t seem to notice how pathetic my excuse was. She just waved her wand across James’s right leg, and it made an unnerving popping sound. Some of the lines of pain on his face disappeared after that.

“Well, all your broken bones are now fixed, but both of you suffered skull fractures. They’re slight, but still skull fractures. They are mended but that must have been quite some blow, so I can’t allow you to leave just yet. Also, some of the bruises across Mister Potter’s torso were so severe that he was internally wounded. That one around your elbow is very bad too, Miss Evans; you came close to dislocating your arm! You’ll stay the night, and tomorrow, if I decide you should.”

I was feeling distressed and sort of panicked about all of these bruises, fractures, and who knows what else that she kept mentioning, but I made myself stutter, “But, Madame Pomfrey-”

She gave me a look that quite clearly said, ‘No arguing,’ and I wasn’t feeling exactly aggressive, so I didn’t bother begging. I just sank back onto the bed and sighed. Then I glanced over at Potter.

A hot wave of guilt washed over me as I watched him there, unconscious, his arm in a sling, purple and red all over his bare chest and blood at the corner of his mouth. I cringed; I had finally realized that it was my entire fault. So what if he had started the whole thing? I had been taught better than to want to finish it in the same manner. As I lay there, alone, I began to question my whole quest for revenge. What had he done? He had sent a charmed flower to me that landed my boyfriend in the Hospital Wing for a few hours, he had dumped pumpkin juice down my shirt, dunked my head in a casserole, put asparagus in my shirt and…oh yeah. He had fooled me. I guess it all comes back to the way I was hurt and disappointed after finding out he’d sent me the poem and flower. He had used that whole romantic secret as a way to hurt Terry. How tactless and selfish did someone have to be, to toy with another’s feelings that way? And those were my feelings. He tells me he cares, but what kind of way to show it had that been?

And just like that I was back to being angry at him. Though, still a little disappointed and guilty, I admit. I would have to apologize. In addition there was still that whole matter about how he’d given me a way out of trouble the other day. That demanded even the briefest ‘thank you’ as well.

But he didn’t come to. The Marauders all came back, accompanied by Rich and Sophie, and he snored through the whole meeting. No one asked me why I had been up there in the boy’s dorm in the first place, and I was grateful. I would eventually tell Sophie and Rich, just not yet.

Well, around three they all took off. Rich said he had to go back to his sweetheart. Actually what he said was, “Well, I’ll see you all later. I promised Meredith I’d catch up with her. Get better soon, Lily,” he joked, winking at me. Despite his ‘too cool’ attitude, inside he is really a sweet guy. Maybe that’s why I’m friends with him.

Then Peter told Remus he needed a ton of help with some Potions essay, which came as no surprise to me. If Maura’s IQ is that of a flamingo, Pettigrew’s is that of a fly. Well, because of said help, they both took off. This left me, Sophie, Sirius, and a snoring James.

“Your elbow looks really bad,” Sophie commented. I noticed she kept bopping her knee against Sirius’s.

I shrugged, trying not to stare (or glare) at their knee bopping action. “It doesn’t hurt too much.”

“Yeah…you weren’t hurt as bad as James, that’s for sure. Just look at those bruises! Poor James…” Sophie shook her head and gave a hum of sympathy.

Again, I cringed. I glanced over at him. There was a particularly nasty purple bruise on the inner slope of his left shoulder. I found myself staring at it.

When I turned back toward them Sirius was smiling wickedly as he watched me. I immediately took that to mean he had something naughty up his sleeve. I opened my mouth to tell him to wipe the smile off his face, but before I could he tugged at Sophie’s belt loop, telling her, “Come on. I think we should just let them…rest for a while. We’ll come back to check on you tomorrow.”

Oh honestly, that was his wicked idea? Leaving me and Potter alone in the Hospital Wing? What did he think I would do, leap over to James’s bed and snog him back to life as soon as they walked out the door? Oh sure, Black, you’re brilliance astounds me. However did you see through my unappreciative façade?

Although, I did find myself alone with Potter in the Hospital Wing, all day long. Well, except for the one time a third year came in burping orange bubbles with fungus growing out of his ears. The whole time I kept glancing at Potter and trying, in a way, to fall asleep. It was really beginning to bother me that he had not woken up.

Around seven thirty at night he began to mumble. I couldn’t understand why I was so relieved. I literally sat up in bed and stared wide-eyed and breathless at him. I am now disgusted with myself, but at the moment I couldn’t help it. I got up and put my hand to his face.

His mumbling increased. He then turned his body sideways to face me and reached his hand up to hold mine. He held it there against his face before I could yank it back.

I was extremely alarmed, to say the least. I held my breath for a while, fearing he would awake to find me there with my hand in his. Then I slowly began trying to pull it back.

A wrong move on my part; he startled and sat up in bed. Thankfully, he had dropped my hand in his surprise, and I threw myself back hurriedly onto my bed.

He looked extremely puzzled as he glanced around the room. He put a hand up to his head gingerly, feeling the bandage there.

“What the-” he began. Then a look of dawning comprehension appeared upon his face and he mouthed an ‘oh’. He had obviously remembered our little stair way tumble.

I sat there, tight lipped, wondering why he hadn’t glanced around at me yet. I needn’t have.

As he turned to stare at me, I noticed he looked a little different without his glasses. Well, I can’t think of the right word, but ‘harmless’ came to mind… And ‘ridiculous’ comes to mind as I write this.

“Hey, Lily,” he said to me. “Are you hurt?”

I shook my head, not saying a word.

“You mean to say you weren’t injured?” He looked at me shrewdly.

I told myself he had a right to know, as I was still entirely at his disposition. So I mumbled reluctantly, “I was, but it wasn’t anything serious.”

He heaved a small sigh. I was embarrassed to see how relieved he seemed by my answer. I briefly recalled how relieved I had been when he’d mumbled, then pushed it out of my mind. I had just been an odd moment, it was nothing truly extraordinary. Really.

He reached a hand over to the bruise on his shoulder. He winced as he touched it and tried to crane his neck around to see it. His neck was twisting to an amazing extent, so I snapped at him, “James, if you keep that up, you’ll need a chiropractor.”

“A what?” He asked very curiously.

“Never mind,” I muttered. “It’s a Muggle thing.”

“Ah…”

There was an awkward silence as we both sat, staring at our hands, wondering what to say next. It was one of the only moments of my life I haven’t had a ready sarcastic remark on the tip of my tongue, and it has taught me never to have another one like it again.

“So um…”James ventured at long last, “did anyone stop by to visit us?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah. Sophie, Rich, Remus, Peter and Sirius were all here. They said they’d be back again tomorrow.”

“Have we really been here all day?” he inquired of me.

I nodded. “You’re lucky you have slept through all of it. Dead boring, I tell you.”

He laughed a little. Some of the awkwardness surrounding us had begun to fade away. As he shook his head in laughter he gasped in pain and sent his hand flying up to his bandage. It was obviously still hurting him.

I pretended to be very interested in the wall opposite of me as he caressed his bruised member. Apparently guilt could also make you a coward.

“If only this could’ve happened on Monday,” I heard him mutter, judging it was safe to look back as I did so. “Then we would’ve missed detention.”

That made me chuckle a little, though reluctantly, and I complimented, “I bet McGonagall would have marched straight up here and told us all of the bones in our arms are mended, so there needn’t be a reason not to use our journals.”

James smiled appreciatively. “I can just see her doing that…good old McGonagall. Always so practical and inconsiderate. A lot like you, really.”

“Me?”

He laughed, wincing as he did so. “I’m only joking, Lily, calm down. Are you always this stressed?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed indignantly. “I am not stressed. Not ever.”

His only response was to snort. Why did people do that to me so often? I was beginning to see eye to eye with my Great Aunt Polly, who had found the gesture so very disrespectful.

My embarrassment was exchanged for annoyance as I brooded. I lay down on the bed and made a nasty face.

“Oh, come on, Lily,” insisted James. “Can’t you take a joke?”

I chewed on my lip before answering, “If it’s funny.”

He sighed exasperatedly, and I was even more annoyed by it. “Good night,” I snapped, rolling over so my back faced him and shutting my eyes tight.

About ten minutes passed and he said nothing to me. Of course, I couldn’t sleep just yet, I was still somehow expecting myself to apologize to him and thank him. I had been stalling, but I knew I couldn’t do that for too long. So I laid there waiting for him to speak, beginning to wonder if he would.

The pillow had just begun to feel truly comfortable and inviting when he whispered, “Lily?”

“Yes...?” I tried to make myself be, and consequentially sound, annoyed.

“Are you awake?” he whispered again.

I crossed my eyes at the bed next to mine and retorted, “No, we’re telepathically having this conversation, couldn’t you tell?”

He ignored my sarcastic remark and whispered, “What were you doing at the door to our dorm? Before I fell on you?”

My heart beat sped. Of course he would ask that. Why hadn’t I been expecting it? Why hadn’t I prepared myself with believable excuses? I couldn’t tell him the truth! I couldn’t just say, ‘Oh, I was waiting to hear you fall down because I knew you would because I was the one who tied your shoelaces together for revenge, you lousy lump’!

“Lily?” he asked.

“Oh, uh…what was I doing..? Well, I was just…it wasn’t anything bad! Merlin, no, why would I be doing anything wrong… I was…I was going up to see you so…so that I could…thank you!”

He had listened to my endless and pathetic stutters patiently and amusedly, but at the end he frowned a little. “Thank me? Thank me for what…”

I looked down and blushed as red as my hair. I was just very pleased that he seemed to be buying my excuse, why else would I blush? No reason, that’s why! Most certainly not because he looked cute when he was confused.

“For the way you lied to McGonagall about where I had been on Thursday.”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled at the memory. “You did owe me that didn’t you? Well, I guess we’re square, now. I’m grateful you’re talking to me at all.”

I blushed even more violently as he smiled intoxicatingly. I am not the sort of girl that gushes endlessly about a bloke’s smile or any such ridiculous nonsense, but if I were, I would definitely be going on and on about that smile. Of course, I would go on and on about Terry’s smile too, if that were the case, I comforted myself with. It was just the first time Potter had been civil around people, that is no doubt why it stuck. It was nothing meaningful.

“And I’m sorry I landed you in here. I am an incredible klutz and can’t make myself hate me enough for it. Tripping over my own shoes! Honestly.” He shook his head darkly and looked away.

There went the guilt again, winding itself around my insides and squeezing tight. Well, that’s what it felt like. I am sorry, hypothetical reader, if my description provides you with an unpleasant image. I was feeling very unpleasant at the moment. So he didn’t suspect foul play? That was both lucky and horrifying. Well, he did sort of deserve the guilt. I mean, if he is incapable of being guilty about anything else than I guess when someone does manage to make him guilty they’d better make the most of it. Well, fine, I would let him go on thinking he was guilty, but I wouldn’t push it. Mainly because the guilt I was experiencing wouldn’t allow it.

“Don’t worry that much…people trip over their shoes all the time.” I couldn’t bring myself to make my voice sound as sympathetic as he was maybe expecting.

He snorted, saying, “Oh, yeah,” he laughed, “of course they do, Lily.”

He seemed to be chuckling an awful lately. Not that he doesn’t always find something to laugh about; he just doesn’t do that around me. I usually give him no cause to laugh; I try and give him cause to cry (even though we all know that works simply splendidly). Well, what had changed? Nothing! Even so, he was suddenly acting as if I were Queen Amusing or something just as admirable. Well, I am far from it; I am about as funny as a heart attack. And none of that had changed.

Though, apparently James Potter was under the illusion that it had, and it was my undeniable duty to my self to set him right. I stared determinedly at the ceiling with my arms crossed over my chest.

“You know, Potter, just because I did the unbelievable and thanked you for something doesn’t mean I am about to fall for you, or that I’ve forgiven you or even that I enjoy your company. Understand? So don’t go around acting as if we’re suddenly the best of mates.”

I had honestly expected him to look upset, disappointed, or angry. Or even a combination of all three. I had not expected him to look amused, but that was precisely what he did. Unpredictable and baffling, that’s what he is.

Oh yes, and extremely aggravating, why on earth did I forget that most essential description?

“What’s so funny?” I asked testily. “I mean it, you know.”

“I know, I know.” He waved his hand around unconcernedly. “But, Lily, do you still hate me?”

Why did he insist upon asking such questions? Couldn’t he tell they were uncomfortable? The oaf had absolutely no clue about the unwritten law explaining all the ‘yes’s, and ‘no’s of social intercourse. He did everything to his own demented rules.

“Perhaps,” I answered very much annoyed.

He beamed. “I would say that’s huge progress.”

I frowned and added, “Most likely.”

He watched me for a while then shrugged his shoulders, unconcerned.

“Either way, it’s still progress.”

“Well, that’s about as far as you’re going to get,” I snapped hoping to pop his hopeful bubble. It was made of some very resistant material, let me tell you.

“I don’t think so…” he said mysteriously with that strange grin upon his face. But then his face lit up as he exclaimed, “So, you don’t deny it! There really has been some progress!”

I stared at him. He looked as if he had just been crowned Supreme Ruler of the Universe. Goodness, it definitely didn’t take much to please the boy. I can only imagine what his face would look like if I confessed to him that I secretly liked him. Not that I do, of course!


Well, that’s basically how the rest of the night and early the next morning went, James acting ecstatic about me possibly not hating him anymore (which I still do, for the record), and me, acting about as annoyed and exasperated as was humanly possible.

If you are now wondering how it was that I returned to hateful name-callings and comments after our experience in the Hospital Wing, which was actually very positive compared to every other experience I have had with him, you, anonymous reader, will have to wait until tomorrow when I will finish my tale. I have run out of time, it is now eight thirty two and I was supposed to leave two minutes ago. McGonagall is standing impatiently over me, her hand out-stretched. I will be back tomorrow, yellowing parchment I have grown unreasonably fond of.

Lily Evans.

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First off, I mean no offense to whoever out there goes by Laureenia or Meredith. So I hope you won't get annoyed and stop reading this story...that would make me sad!

Well, my lovely readers, I hope you liked this chapter. It’s definitely the fluffiest so far, even though that’s not saying much. Thanks to cAughtonFire, my beta, for being amazing! And on that note, please review!

Today is the 17th of March. It is Wednesday and it is also raining. Fat drops of water are sliding down the window, and I can almost hear some jolly little First-years outside, splashing around in the puddles. I wonder if there will be a rainbow. Well, of course there won’t, the sun’s already set, but it would be really pretty if there were. Just picture a rainbow over the moon and the stars…well, you can imagine, hypothetical reader. I am incapable of any happy thought during the course of this detention.

Unless laughing and staring at Potter’s new atrocious haircut is considered happy. It is probably the closest I’ll get anyway.

‘What atrocious haircut?’ you may ask. It is a long story, and I haven’t gotten to that part quite yet. But let me just try to impress upon you the extent of its atrocity: picture a gorilla. Now that you’ve done that, picture it bald, except for the sideburns, sideburns just like Elvis Presley’s, by the way. Now picture the shape of a pig’s tail. Picture it at the back of someone’s practically bald head. You are now picturing exactly what I did - I mean, exactly what Potter’s hairdresser has done to him. He should sue her, no question about it.

McGonagall is frowning at me. Perhaps due to the fact I’ve just burst into laughter because Potter reached up a hand to run it through his hair but �“ what’s this? There’s no hair to run his hands through! Haha! Hilarious! I’m having spasms, I tell you.

Well. Now that my fit of giggles has subsided, I guess I should finish the tale of my hospitalization in hell so I can get to the haircut bit and make it known just how ding batted Potter now looks…


So, Sunday morning, as promised, Sirius, Sophie, Remus, Peter and Rich all came back to ‘check on us’, or so Sirius calls it. He has twisted ideas about who needs to be checked on and who doesn’t.

I felt ridiculous just lying there when there was absolutely nothing wrong with me anymore, but Madame Pomfrey, the paranoid paediatrician, would not hear a word of it. For that reason, we were lying around in bed as our friends stood around us. I felt a bit uncomfortable. And that is entirely understandable, is it not? Pettigrew was sitting on the edge of James’s bed stuffing his face with some type of sugary pastry, for a change. Isn’t it absolutely earth-shattering? Sirius seemed not to think it at all an issue to sit there next to Sophie on my bed and blow in her ear every two minutes. And Sophie seemed to think this positively spiffing! Oh, how she giggled. Rich, of course, had to bring Meredith �“ I mean Maura along, and neither of them noticed that Rich’s collar was covered in pink lipstick, a fact James seemed to find deeply amusing. And to top all of that wonder off, Remus glanced at me suspiciously every few minutes. I suspect he’s probably sure that I had not been about to cry ‘Room Service’ when I’d crouched behind their door, for some reason. Must just be my intuition.

But to them, no, awkward, never, everything was simply lovely and chummy. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d announced a group hug. Since when exactly have Rich and Sophie been pals with the Marauders? Okay, perhaps that was a relatively stupid question. Sophie is friends with Sirius, so I guess it would be hard for her not to spend time with them as she is so determined to be around Sirius, for reasons best known to herself. And Maura is on the Quidditch team, which James captains. And Rich…well, he’s a guy…the ‘cool’ type of guy, and in this school ‘Marauder’ and ‘cool’ are like synonyms. That, of course, is because I still haven’t managed to reverse their brain modifications. But I will figure it out.

There I lay, my arms crossed over my chest, a surly look upon my face as I observed the Marauders, Rich and Sophie all listening quite contentedly to Maura confess she was thinking about charming her hair another colour but was anxious about choosing the right one.

“I mean,” she went on saying, oblivious to the absurdity of the whole situation, “it takes a good deal of time (and Galleons for that matter), and if I choose a colour that doesn’t quite work it would be so troublesome to fix. Richy, what do you think? What colour matches with me?”

I got over the anomaly of hearing Rich called ‘Richy’ soon enough to hear him complain, “Oh, come on, don’t charm your hair. Its fine the way it is!”

This answer appeared not to satisfy Maura, who turned to Potter. “James, what do you think?”

He grinned and stated confidently, “Green.”

Sirius, Sophie, Remus, and Peter all laughed as Rich spluttered and stared at Potter and Maura in horror. I merely snorted and rolled my eyes. Maura, on the other hand, seemed to be actually considering this. Gag me.

“What?” asked Potter self-righteously, as if it were actually truly understandable to suggest to someone they charm their hair green and that we were all deranged for disagreeing. “I like green; it’s my favourite colour. Plus…” he grinned in a charming and oh-so-dashing way, “you’d look good with any colour.”

Oh please! Who does he think he is? He can’t go around complimenting other girls like that! What a contradiction; he’s so firm about liking me and then �“ Wait, that’s not exactly what I meant. I meant that he can’t go around complimenting other guy’s girlfriends. Yes, that’s very wrong of him. It’s no wonder why his stupid, inane comment disgruntled me. Plus, my favourite colour is green. And prophetic coincidences be damned!

I must have been very conspicuous about my disgruntlement because soon enough Potter had turned to say to me, “I’m sorry, Lily, did you want to say something?”

I glanced at him crossly and stated huffily, “No, you carry on a conversation just fine without me.”

“Oh, I see…you’re feeling left out.”

How come my derisive snort didn’t sound as derisive as I’d intended it to? That made no sense. How come nothing made sense whenever the Twig was involved? And sadly, believe me, I wasn’t the only one that noticed my resentful tone.

“Lily, you’re looking truly lovely today,” he said sweetly, an odd and devious smile upon his amused face.

I gave him the most withering look I could muster. Sure, if he thinks he can win me back �“ wait, what am I saying? Back? Ha! That’d be the day! �“ if he thinks he can go around complimenting several girls in less than five minutes and make us think he’s cute, he is sorely mistaken. Lovely…I’ll give him lovely; lovely as a hippopotamus! My hair resembled a big red pom-pom more than it resembled hair; my face was so red I must have looked like a clown. If that’s his idea of ‘lovely’ then I don’t even want to know what he considers ugly. Hmm…how strange…that last sentence rhymed…

Okay, passing over my unexpected poetic tendencies, I snapped at him, “What exactly do you mean by it?”

To which he replied, “I’m incorporating you into the conversation.”

Oh…how cute! Not!? I didn’t even want to be incorporated into a conversation that consisted of something as redundant as hair charms. Potter really has nerve. Integrity is inexistent to him, so entirely, it’s sad. And…I doubt he thinks I’m lovely anyway.

“I’d say thanks, Potter, if I actually appreciated that.”

I refused to pity the stunned look on his face. With just a teensy, tiny bit of difficulty, I’ll admit.

“Lily, I thought last night you said you didn’t hate me anymore.”

I felt my cheeks burn and even if I kept my eyes fixed on his I could tell the others were watching us curiously. “Clean out your ears. I said no such thing.”

He frowned slightly. “Yes, you did.”

“No…I didn’t.” I continued to glare at him.

“Yes you did,” he insisted obnoxiously.

“No. I didn’t!” I enunciated clearly, as though he were a three year old. Peter was snickering at us.

“Yes you did!” he persisted, going from obnoxious to infuriating.

“No, I �“ oh, fine! Just shut up!” I shouted, giving up loudly and in extreme outward annoyance. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared determinedly at the wall opposite me, as my cheeks became as vibrant as my hair.

That is, until I heard Potter say to the rest of them smugly, “She’s mad because it’s true.” You’d better believe I cracked my neck when I turned my head that fast.

But the angry words died on my tongue. My eyes leaped past Potter’s amused, satisfied face to the face of the boy entering the Hospital Wing, looking anxious.

“Terry!”

He smiled as he saw me smiling at him and hurried toward me. My Potter worries were forgotten on some distant plain of my mind when he came over and took my hand in his own cold one and sat next to me.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, kissing my forehead. “I only just heard you were in here. I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier.”

Oh yeah…he hadn’t been here. How come I hadn’t noticed..? Well, I suppose my head had been so full of stupid thoughts of stupid Potter that there wasn’t any room left for the guy who actually deserved to be occupying my thoughts.

“Oh, that’s okay. You’re here now,” I said shrugging contentedly.

He grinned and was just about to say something more when we heard Sophie clearing her throat. I looked around to find the rest of them all staring at us. Terry grinned at them all, but only Maura smiled back. However, when she noticed that no one else had, she stopped. Rich just raised his eyebrows coolly at Terry. Sophie attempted a smile but the unpleasant look on her face became it more of a grimace. Remus lifted his hand limply then let it fall back into his lap. Sirius and Peter glared.

James however, stared at my hand in Terry’s. He had looked quite happy just minutes ago, but his face now betrayed the fact that he probably wanted nothing more than to pounce upon Terry and chuck him out the window. He raised his eyes to mine and looked into them for a while. For that instant I could not breathe (damn, why does he do that to me?). Then he took one deep breath and lifted his eyes to Terry’s, saying, “Hello, Caldwell,” with what seemed to be an enormous effort.

“Potter.” Terry gave him a little nod.

I looked between them anxiously. Were they truly going to make this awkward on me and stand there like big slabs of useless stone?

“So, Caldwell,” I heard someone say and turned my head gratefully, only to find that Sirius was sitting there on the edge of my bed, glaring at Terry as he continued, “how come we couldn’t find you yesterday? McGonagall took me and Sophie along to look for you, but you weren’t anywhere at all…”

Terry stared right back, tightening his grip on my hand. “You mustn’t have looked too hard. I was at the back of the library with my study group. You can ask them.”

Sirius glanced, in a bitter sort of amusement at James, who was glaring at mine and Terry’s hands. Then he looked back up, eyebrows raised and just sat there. I’m afraid to say he looked a tad dim-witted…But then again, he always does.

Before anyone could make any other comment, Madame Pomfrey came bustling in, and, upon noticing them all crowded around us, uttered a squeaky little shriek, claiming in an authority’s voice, “No more than six visitors!”

As if one extra person would actually make Potter and I abruptly up and die, or something. Do you get the gist of her paranoia?

“That’s okay, we’ll be on our way,” Remus offered, glancing around at the others. They all nodded, and were soon gone, ensuring James and I that they would save us seats for lunch. Terry remained.

It was painfully awkward, sitting there as Terry tried to begin a conversation, and Potter glared silently at the wall. Normally, I would have just jumped into the conversation with Terry, as he is very smart, and never talks about stupid things like…like which colour to charm one’s hair. But, for some reason I haven’t yet had the chance to fathom; I didn’t feel all that comfortable speaking openly to Terry in front of James. And I couldn’t deny that I felt like there was something trickling down my spine after Terry and Sirius’s conversation. A little something that felt suspiciously like doubt.

Well, anyway, Terry left awfully soon, even though I couldn’t exactly say I was upset about that. I would probably just catch up with him later, after I felt a little more comfortable and reassured.

The silence Terry left behind was even worse. Potter didn’t say one word, and I lay there fidgeting. I’ll admit it again: I was starting to feel a little suspicious about Terry. I mean, yes, I believe he was with his study group; he’s a true blue Ravenclaw. He’s always studying. I knew that Sophie’s very first impulse would be to go look for him in the Library, as she isn’t at all stupid…but she was with Sirius. I had a feeling he really hadn’t wanted Terry found, and I knew it was convenient for him to insinuate things against Terry in front of me. But that wasn’t what was bothering me. What started bothering me was something different and older. And it bothered me enough to make me turn to the mop-headed boy lying next to me.

“Er, could I ask you something?” I cleared my throat and ventured.

He grunted. “If you want to ask me, I don’t think I have a choice.”

“Right,” I took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter. “Well, erm, I just wanted to know what it was you and Terry were arguing about the day of the food-fight.”

He was silent for a while, chewing on his bottom lip. “Haven’t you asked your boyfriend about that before?”

“Yes, yes I did, but-”

“And what did he tell you? The usual codswallop about me acting like a primate, saying things like, ‘Me want Lily’, or ‘Me no like you. Me crush you bones’, and him defending you like the perfect little hero you think he is? I would bet anything that’s what he said, and I’d bet just as much that you believed him. C’mon, Lily, grow up!”

His words stung. My mouth hung open as he stared at me defiantly; my face burned and, to my utter horror, my throat clenched. I swallowed and looked away.

How dare he be so rude? I asked him nicely enough. I know he doesn’t like Terry and that his presence would upset him, but did he have to take it out on me? He was acting like just the barbarian he had mocked Terry of calling him. And what, didn’t he want to have a chance to degrade Terry to me? I was giving him the perfect opportunity.

“Look,” I said as calmly and composed as I could, “it’s not much to ask. He told me, but I just wanted to hear your take on it-”

“Why? Have you stopped trusting him?” he interrupted. I couldn’t tell whether he sounded hopeful or not.

“NO! I just wanted - I mean, he might have, you know, modified the true �“ not that I think of him that way, but it is �“ well, not unexplainable. I would understand why he would have �“ not that he should have -”

“Lily, you’re blabbering,” he told me unsmilingly.

“Oh, right. I guess I…look, James, can you just tell me what happened, and I won’t bother you again.”

“Oh, so now I’m James again, am I? You’ll act friendly to me when we’re alone but not when there’s anyone else around?”

“What on earth are �“ never mind, that’s ridiculous,” I claimed loudly, completely bewildered by the preposterous, not to mention horrendously stupid, accusations. “Please, just tell me what he said that made you punch him and I’ll- I’ll never call you Potter again.”

He glared at me. His hair stuck up very oddly at the top (not that it doesn’t always, I just seem to be noticing more lately), and his glasses were a little crooked. I was sure, had the circumstances been any others, I would have burst out laughing at his comically angry face.

“No, I don’t think I will…Evans.” He smirked at me, with a look like, ‘Oh, aren’t I the wittiest buffoon to ever have lived?’

I gaped for a while at him then spluttered, becoming as angry as he was, “Fine! Who cares what you’ve got to say anyway? I sure don’t, you, you…you ignorant, annoying little prick!”

“Oh, how truly original you are, Lily. Prick…you’ve never called me that before, stubborn, stuck-up meat head!”

I gasped. “Stuck up? Me? You’re insane, you great prat!”

“Now that is what I’d call a great come-back. You’re getting smarter by the minute, Witless Wonder.” He had sat up and his face was turning red with rage and a sort of pleasure I couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, well, that’s just…who are you calling witless, Mr. ‘oh, die your hair green, you’ll look like a lovely piece of asparagus’!”

“Look who’s talking, Ms. ‘I think lemon meringue pie is a fantabulous accessory, thank you very much’!”

I was about to open my mouth once more to say something about him permanently attaching a nicked snitch to his hand, for fashion’s sake, when Madame Pomfrey came bustling back in, sighing, “Merlin’s beard, will you two keep it down? You’re acting like a pair of love-struck third years.”

LOVESTRUCK? Me? Love struck in reference to James Potter? Oh, she’s lost it too! What did I tell you, anonymous hypothetical reader, insanity is contagious! It’s everywhere!


Will you look at that! My time here has run up. Pity, I fancied reminiscing about Potter’s hair cut…ah well, I’ll save it for tomorrow…

He’s already made fast tracks out of here. He hasn’t been nearly as friendly to me this past week as he has every other day of our lives. I wonder if he’s finally over me…no, he can’t be. That would be just…well, it would be very strange not having Potter begging me to go out with him. It would be just…weird. Adjectives fail me. But it’s of no matter, he hasn’t given up on me, I just know it. Of course, I wish he would, I just don’t think he will…Anyway, where was I?

McGonagall didn’t look very happy with Potter when he stormed out of here, glaring at me. I guess she never thought the murderous glares might come mutually. I didn’t either, but I know it’s just another one of his oddities…or maybe he is mad at me…Well, he was rude first, and I asked him to tell me his story! What more does he want? Goodness, he called me stuck-up! The nerve of that moron! Not only that, he called me a meat head! What kind of childish insult is that? Seven years of education have been entirely wasted on him, I’m afraid, but not in the least baffled, to say. It’s his entire fault, and there’s no sense in him being angry with me. So what if I’ve been pointedly snogging Terry in front of him since the fight in the Hospital Wing. He acts like he doesn’t care anymore anyway, so why should it bother him…

Lily Evans, Potter Hating Marvel

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Okeydokey...I'm very sorry for the long wait, daaarling readers. My sister was in the hospital for about a month, and I just couldn't think of anything else, let alone remembering to update. But now she's better, I'm moving back to the U.S where it's summer now, so updates I hope will become more frequent. Thanks to cAughtonFire for her great beta work!

Now it's time to review! Blabber to me! It'll make me happy, and more eager to update...hehe.

Today is Friday, March thirteenth. It is also one of the worst days of my life. I have recently made the discovery that I am an idiot. A big one; a great big idiotic dunce. A pitiful, stupid child. Pathetic ness lies at the core of my very existence. I am a ‘stubborn stuck-up meat head’.

The great culminating epiphany came to me finally. I have seen the inlaid answer to the mysteries of the past few weeks. I’m so pathetic! You, anonymous, hopefully hypothetical, reader must have known of that particular darling quality of mine for a good time now. You probably knew everything; I bet you could just tell. You could just see what I could not. You shook your head and laughed at this journal, thinking how pathetically dramatic and un-amusing I was.

I never thought I would see the words come from a quill of mine, but James Potter was right. I am blind. Not only that, but I knew of my blindness and chose to ignore it. And I don’t know why.

As much as it pains and humiliates me to recount this, I will. After all, it’s better than just sitting here and doing my hardest to avoid James’s sympathetic gaze.


After the little incident in the Hospital Wing James and I pretended as if the other weren’t occupying the neighbouring bed, arms crossed and huffing loudly. Once we were free of Madame Pince’s hawk-like supervision, we had pledged the unspoken ‘War of the Clueless’ upon each other, or so Sirius likes to refer to it now. And I quite agree, for my part at least.

Despite it all, I did achieve a thing thought to be humanly impossible…I improved my pranking skills. (Insert dramatic gasp here).

Monday morning, in Charms class, I tried again the same trick I had tried the last Thursday, with just one tiny little difference: it worked. Do you perhaps recall, dear reader, the odorizing-pellet fiasco? Yes, well, this time around, Potter stank so bad of dung that even his mates couldn’t stand to sit next to him. Professor Flitwick, pinching his nose as he hurried past him, ordered Potter to go to the Hospital Wing and watch out for what he ate next time.

According to Rich and Sophie, I was grinning like a mad-woman all day long. That, plus the fact that I was the only known Potter-hater left in the school, probably contributed to the fact he hadn’t decided to consider me a poor hapless spectator. And the evil way he chuckled when McGonagall handed me back my essay on human transfiguration because it was a ‘lousy mound of disjointed gibberish and vulgar nonsense’ also did not motivate me to put him on my list of ‘innocents’.

Even though I managed to talk McGonagall into letting me redo the essay to hand it in at the end of the week, I was still furious. Choosing to ignore the fact that my problem was a consequence of something I’d done, upon finding him fast asleep in the common room early on Tuesday morning, I decided his hair didn’t look right. If you’re still wondering where the aforementioned haircut came from, you are dense (no offence). (Again with the rhyming!). Potter woke up in the morning looking like a little bespectacled Elvis piglet.

Everyone stared the next day, and, after all, whose to blame them? Sophie, upon seeing him as he made his way up toward the seat his friends had saved for him at Gryffindor table (which, unfortunately, happened to be right next to where we were), sprayed a mouth full of pumpkin juice all over herself and the vicinity (Sirius was very quick at assisting in the wiping of her shirt. Wanker.)

The whole day I went around dreading what he would do in retaliation. But nothing happened to me out of the ordinary for the rest of the day. When I woke up on Wednesday, I was beginning to wonder if anything would. My question was answered not ten minutes later, as I descended the spiral staircases and a little first year started laughing herself silly and pointing at my head.

I raced back up the stairs and discovered that my hair, my beautiful smooth red hair, was hanging down all the way to my hips and it was an eye-achingly, nauseating, shade of neon green.

The girls in my dorm tried to help me once they got over themselves. One of them, Alexandria, lent me her jeans cap to stuff it in. She tried to bargain it with a picture of me. She said she’d use it as a model for a Halloween costume. Well, hoho, aren’t we a riot?

Alas, the hat was of no use. During Potions Class, James Potter pointed out to Professor Slughorn that a student among us was violating the school uniform. Potter’s simply a rule-abiding little angel, haven’t you heard? The entire day, I had to go around assuring people that, no, I had not gotten severely drunk the night before, been dared to dunk my head repeatedly in a vat of toxic waste, and found it amusing.

Although, there was one thing that bothered me more than the rest. After my last class, when I was on my way to the Great Hall, a group of rowdy Slytherin boys followed me. I’m guessing they had the IQ of a rock. Their insults weren’t truly insulting, seeing as how they were so pathetic, but the extent of their vulgarity was embarrassing, really. I’m normally not the target of such innuendos, as everyone in school knows I’m more than capable of holding my own, but I guess they couldn’t resist. And I was doing my best to ignore them, because I make it a point of only resorting to immediate extermination when it comes to Potter, when I heard them shrieking behind me. I turned around to see they had all suddenly grown very large breasts. Laughing hysterically I watched them scamper away toward the nearest boy’s bathroom, until I noticed who was standing at the end of the hall, laughing with me.

I turned immediately and rushed toward the Great Hall. He hadn’t looked at me predatorily that time. He had looked at me the way he always used to.

A James Potter that plots against me, that calls me a meathead, I can deal with. I can even deal with a James Potter that turns my hair to green shit. What I can’t deal with, is a James Potter that sends me enchanted boyfriend-repelling flowers, that lies to professors about my whereabouts to keep me out of trouble and hexes Slytherins for harassing me. That’s what I can’t deal with.

I did a good job of busying myself with other thoughts until the time of my detention. I found Terry rushing away from the Library after dinner, and he served as a lovely distraction. We took a stroll around the grounds, and he just listened as I blathered on stupidly, blurting out anything, as long as it kept my mind busy. He just listened and watched me, with a funny kind of look, that, when I asked, he told me was nothing. Now I look back on that and I think he was observing me, deducing me…comparing me.

I arrived at detention a little late, to the annoyance and disapproval of McGonagall. I didn’t even glance at Potter. Actually, that’s a lie; I made myself pause from my writing, to glance over and laugh at his haircut. The way he looked at me afterward had me thinking he was reconsidering the good of defending me. And for some reason, the knowledge wasn’t satisfactory, as I had hoped.

The minute McGonagall said we were free to go he tore out of there, glaring. I left not a minute later. I could see him walking way ahead of me, at the other end of the hall as we made our way toward the moving staircases. When I arrived he was waiting there. The staircase had arrived, but he wasn’t getting on. That’s about when my heart picked up speed.

“Lily,” he spoke to my feet, as I approached warily, “there’s something I have to show you.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, and tried to look condescending. “What exactly makes you think I’ll trust you? You just want to prank me again; give me a big blistery nose to match with my hair.”

He watched me slowly, calmly, sadly. “This is nothing like that. I should’ve told you about it a long time ago. And now that I have, I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer; you have to come with me.”

I was attempting to look uninterested and composed, but I’m almost certain he could hear my heart hammering away in my chest. “Potter, that’s really low. All you want to do is mess me up some more, and-”

“No, Lily, this time I’m very serious.” As if to prove his point, he took his wand out and waved it once. A sort of prickly sensation coursed down my scalp, and as I turned my head slightly, I could see my hair was no longer green. “Come with me.”

There was no way I could’ve said no. I was so curious. He really did look serious, not that I would ever have admitted any of that to him. “Fine,” I sighed, trying to preserve at least one trademark of our old interactions. “But this had better not be just another scheme, ‘cause or else you don’t even want to know what I’ll do.”

He laughed a little. “I know that.”

I followed him back the way we’d come from, and up a flight of the back stairs. After a while he started speaking.

“You know, I always wanted to catch Terry at something, and then tell you about it, so you’d dump him. Don’t look at me like that, that shouldn’t be a surprise to you. Anyway, he never did anything wrong. He was like a perfect little saint. And believe me, I watched him a great deal. I was almost giving up at the beginning of the year, but then I started noticing something…”

Idiot. Normal people don’t say things like that about one’s boyfriend to them and then don’t finish the sentence. So much for me keeping a semblance of dignity.

“Noticed what?” I demanded, knowing that was exactly what he had wanted.

James took a deep breath and ploughed on, “I didn’t tell you at first, because I knew you wouldn’t believe me. And I’m entirely to blame for that. I decided I needed some sort of proof first, see, so you’d have no way to deny it. It took a really long time, but then, finally, on the week right before Valentine’s Day, something happened.”

Once again he let his sentence linger in the air. I could not remember ever being so impatient and irritated in all of my life. My heart was doing a very fast tango with my stomach. “What bloody happened?”

He’d been slowing down as we neared the library. Once we reached the door, he came to a full stop. He motioned for me to follow. We stood together quietly behind a book shelf near the entrance. He reached out and held my arm. I could feel it shiver.

“You believe me so far, right?” he whispered.

“You haven’t told me anything, so I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to believe!” I whispered frantically. “Just spit it out, will you?”

“Do you know Kathy McKinnon?” he asked me, completely unexpectedly.

Yes, I knew her. She was the shy, quiet Ravenclaw in Rich’s year, known for being abnormally smart, and pretty, even though she was too awkward for much of a reputation. I could see her in my head, smiling at everyone from behind her golden bangs. And I could not have imagined at that moment how in the world she tied into my story.

“Have you ever noticed the way Terry looks at her?” James whispered so softly I had to lean in to hear him.

I stared at him. My system, moments ago impossibly anxious, seemed to have come to a stand-still. A little cold was spreading through me, making it harder to breath.

“Has he ever told you who it is he meets to study with almost every day?” James’s voice was barely at all.

I was forcing myself to take deep breaths. I had received an electric shock, and the aching tingling feeling wasn’t going away as it ought.

James still had a grip on my arm, I noticed, when he started quietly dragging me further into the library, always in the shadow of the book shelves. “It’s usually just the two of them, but not always. At first, in the beginning of the year, I think they were tutoring third years together, and later on they started having study groups. I think it took her a long time to get comfortable with that, but she did in the end. Here is like the only place they meet. Our…sources, told us that they don’t spend much time together in their common room. That’s what they seem like they are; study-buddies. That’s it. But, well, it’s just the way he looks at her…”

We had stopped behind one of the shelves at the end. James was slowly pulling out a book, and looking through the crack. He beckoned me closer, so that I could see too.

They did look like just study-buddies at first. Just a teenage girl, and boy, sitting next to each other, bending over books and scrolls of parchment. Nothing out of the ordinary. But if you just looked a little longer, you could see it starting to show. It was the way he watched her eyes more than he watched what he wrote. It was the way she smiled with her whole body when he whispered something funny. That was anything but ordinary.

I watched them from the other side of the shelf, standing between dusty books and a boy who looked at me with nothing but pity, feeling endlessly stupid and useless.

“That week he almost kissed her. They were just sitting there, just like that, and he leaned forward. She moved her face at the last minute, and he ended up kissing her cheek. For the rest of the week they didn’t meet, and then, on the next Monday, the day of our first detention, she came to meet him after you left. I was watching you.

“He said he’d called her there because he wanted to apologize. He said he hadn’t known what he was doing, or why. He said he still really liked you, but he still wanted to be her friend. Kathy asked him if he’d told you any of this, and he said he didn’t have to because it didn’t mean anything. After that, they went back to the way they were before. The way they are now. No matter how many times he says he still likes you, he doesn’t stop looking at her like that. When I confronted him in the Great Hall, he told me I was overreacting; you were ‘just a girl’.”

It wasn’t the dust that made my eyes sting. I looked over at James, barely seeing him. He looked as if the sight of me caused him physical pain. He made a twitching sort of movement, as if he wanted to put his arms around me and hold me, but thought better of it. His hand slipped down my arm, until he could give mine a very slight squeeze.

“That’s why I sent you that flower. I’m sorry, now I know it was stupid. I’m sorry about everything.”

I gasped for breath. I couldn’t stand to be there another second, on the other side of the shelf. I stumbled out, knocking over about half a dozen books. When I stood up straight in the hall, Terry had stood up and leaned his head to see what had caused the disturbance. When he saw me, for a second he almost smiled. And then he noticed my eyes. I didn’t stay around long enough to witness the guilty look setting in. I ran.


So there it is. I was wrong all along. I was blind. I had never been living a cute little love story, as I so pathetically supposed. I was ‘just a girl’. A silly, stupid and forsaken one. It had never been my story; I never even came into the picture. It was their story. I had no story, and still don’t.

Lily Evans, the stupid little girl.

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Alright, now onto my looooooong author's note.

I would first like to beg you to forgive me...and now that I've politely given you the chance to shout at me (with reason) "NEVER!", I shall procede to attempt to defend myself with some excuses.

My little sister was in the hospital. She had pneumothorox. They had to operate three times before they were sure she wasn't about to lose all of the air in her lung's again. If you have gone through something of the sort, watching a loved one suffer, sleeping in hospitals and living with the people there, some on the brink of death, you'll know it's an extremely sobering experience. Sadly, becaues of that, I lost touch with Lily's humorous character...for a while anyway.

Less than two weeks after that nightmare ended, my family and I moved back to the U.S. and we stayed in upstate New York, as we always do for two months. As that is a very short time for me to see all of my friends and family in, I spend every single second outside with them, and that really kept me from the computer.

And now I'm back to Brazil, behind in all of my classes, because our summer is in December and January and they didn't practically have time off. So that kept me busy. A lot.

So, there you have it. I could have just told you I had troubles with real life, but I thought you all deserved a worthy explanation. Updates with go back to being relatively frequent, and I also have a new James/Lily one-shot coming out, called The Horridly Cheerful Valentine's Day. It's a lot fluffier than this story, and I'll hope you'll all read it (and review )!

Now, about this chapter...Did I surprise you? Do you all hate Terry? Are you wondering what comes next..? Tell me! I adore reviews!

Thanks once more to my beta, cAughtonFire for her wonderful help. And if, at least once throught the past months you took the time to hate me for not updating, this chapter is dedicated to you. *hugs*

Edit: This story was nominated for a Quicksilver Quill for Best Canon Romance! Thank you! *hugs dear readers and nominators to death*

P.S: I have a thread in the Forums (more specifically, at the Duelling Club, part of the Great Hall) with the sole purpose of answering questions. So, if you have questions about this story, anything about it, or my other writings, fire away! That is, if you have an account. And if you don't, you should. The Forums are wonderful!

Finally time to review! *nudgesgently* Lol, kidding....

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Hi Journal. Remember that ridiculous girl that’s been writing in you for the past four weeks? Well, that girl’s gone. She took the evening train home. I’ll be filling in for her now.

My name is Lily Evans. I am Head Girl of Hogwarts, a Gryffindor and seventeen years old. I have had two best friends since my first days of Hogwarts: Rich Simon, and Sophie Stewart. And I have recently developed friendships with four other Gryffindor boys: Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black and James Potter.

Do you see, now, why a whole new introduction is needed? I am someone entirely different. One other piece of important information: Terry Caldwell is my ex-boyfriend.

I think it is safe to say that hell has most likely frozen over. I know for sure that’s what everyone in school has been thinking since yesterday, Sunday, March the fifteenth, when I sat down to breakfast right next to the man I claimed to have hated since first year, willingly, and smiled at him. And I know that they are all whispering behind our backs. Hogwarts hasn’t enjoyed a juicy piece of gossip like this since…Rita Skeeter, who had graduated the previous year, had faked a pregnancy. Thankfully though, the reasons behind mine and Terry’s break-up some how remained secret. I’ll probably have James to thank for that; I’ll have to add that to the list of things he’s done for me.

Anyway, if you haven’t completely given up on me for previously being such an oaf, you’ll be wondering how it is all of this has come to pass. Well, today is Monday the sixteenth of March, and here goes…


I cried the whole night on Friday. My roommates Alex, Tamara and Perfidy were very kind about it; they smuggled up chocolate from the kitchens for me, and lent me extra pillows. Apparently, a mysterious disembodied voice told them where to go to find the food. Why do I have a feeling there’s another thing I have to add to that list to thank James for?

Anyway, Saturday, I stayed in my room all day. Someone let Sophie in to the Gryffindor common room, and Rich levitated himself into the seventh year girl’s dorm, slipping on the window so that he nearly plummeted to his death, and they spent endless miserable hours with me. Goodness, how awful am I? I make a stupid selfish mistake, and then I let my wonderful friends feel sorry for me, when indeed they should hate me. When I told them so, though, they told me I was finally acquiring that lunatic’s illness I kept on ranting about. How could they go about hating someone like me? Oh, I love them! And curse them for making me cry.

When my roommates came in from dinner, they told me Terry hadn’t been there, and nobody had seen him. I didn’t ask about Kathy McKinnon. I didn’t want word getting around, and Perfidy, bless her for her feather pillows, wasn’t one to keep interesting information to herself. They also told me James Potter had asked about me an annoying amount of times. Funnily enough, that made me smile.

At about midnight, I got to feeling cramped, imprisoned. I felt so guilty, used and worthless just lying there miserably. How pathetic, for me to cry over him. I felt the need to do something.

Wrapped tightly in a coat and my nightgown, I recklessly set off down the halls in the middle of the night, not particularly aware of where I was headed. When I finally came to my senses again, I was at the Astronomy tower. It was frigid outside, but I didn’t leave. I slumped against the cold wall, and sat there, my eyes closed. It was actually sort of peaceful. I couldn’t hear a sound, and I found myself mercifully relaxing. That is, until someone’s shadow fell over me, and I fell back in almighty surprise, shouting unintelligible things.

“Shh! Lily, Merlin, relax!” whoever it was, was saying, as I tried to make my heart slow back down, then taking a good look at them.

“Potter,” I panted, “how on Earth did you find me here?”

He gave me a roguish smile, as he pulled me into a proper sitting position and placed himself next to me. “I have my ways.”

“Frightening ones,” I muttered quietly. Awkwardness and shame set upon me as I watched him rub his hands because of the cold.

“I’ve been told.” He looked at me kindly, smiling. I couldn’t bear it, and looked away, red as an apple.

“So, how are you?” he asked in a tentative tone.

“Fine,” I tried a little to sound defiant, but ended up sounding clogged and sad.

He sighed. “I feel awful. You’re going through this and it’s my entire fault…” he looked at his hands

I snorted, disbelievingly. “How do you figure that?”

“I knew all along, I should’ve just told you, I should’ve…should’ve found a way to show you, or forced him to tell you, or…” He threw his hands up helplessly. “Something.”

His reasonless, selfless guilt was making me feel, if possible, even worse. “No, James, it’s ,i>my fault and mine alone. I was the one who didn’t want to listen to you. And I was the one who wouldn’t have believed you if you’d straight out told me. I’m the one that thought Terry really liked me… and it’s my fault we’ve got all these detentions, I started that food fight.”

“Well, that’s the thing; you weren’t the one who lied to their relationship. It isn’t your fault, you’re a victim here!”

“Terry didn’t really lie to me. I was just the one who assumed things. And besides…I mean, he fell in love with someone else, and even though he was wrong to keep stringing me along, falling in love isn’t a crime.” Why did my voice have to break? Why, oh, why?

“Lily,” said James sympathetically, “Stop taking all the responsibility. Terry �““

“No, James! It’s my fault, okay? Stop trying to make me seem innocent!” I shouted, losing my patience. The second after I’d said it, I felt bad. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I have the nerve to shout at you after everything you’ve done for me.”

James pursed his lips. “Tried to do, you mean? You should still hate me for that flower, you know.”

I snorted again, and wrapped my arms around myself even more tightly. I stifled a slight gasp when he wound his arm around me and pulled me in closer. I felt immediately warmer…if from the heat of his body, or from my suddenly fast heart beat and blush, I don’t know. All I know is that I just felt awfully confused…and content.

“Now that I think about it, I don’t really feel I should,” I mumbled, watching the ground.

It was something about his arm around me. It was acting as a guilt repellent. It made me feel a little lighter. And to think, mere weeks ago, I was dragging his bum into a pudding. How strange things were…

“So, did you come up with the poem?” I found myself asking.

I could feel him laughing. “Sadly, yes. It took me three hours.”

That made me chuckle in earnest. Glancing up, I noticed he still had the disastrous hair do I had given him the previous week. How was it that I hadn’t noticed before? It’s sort of hard to overlook, you see.

“Here,” I said, taking out my wand. “I’ll fix that for you.”

He scrunched his lips to one side, then the other, before saying, “Would it make you happy if I kept it?”


How could I have ever hated him? My, things certainly have changed.

This detention went by surprisingly fast. There are now only two minutes left, and I’ve just glanced over to grin at James. He winked at me. I swear McGonagall just wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

Lily Evans

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Well, finally, there's been some progress, no? In December, it'll be a year since I started this story. Wow, how fast time goes by. I'd like to once again, thank my beta, harrypotterfangirl21 (Katie) for her great help. And thank you so much to those of you have stuck with this story all this time, and especially to those of you who review.

Didn't take so long this time, did it?

Hello, Detention Journal and supposed wearied reader! It is I, Lily Evans. Today is Monday the twenty-third of March. And this weekend, only a week after I broke up with the bloke I dated for…five months, two weeks and a few days, I’ve decided that I am genuinely happy. I might even be the happiest I’ve ever been. Does that seem strange to you, hypothetical reader? I can almost hear your hypothetical exasperated response… in fact, it sounds sort of like Sophie…

“Lily,” she said to me when I asked her this at lunch on Sunday, putting down her sandwich and giving me a look of greatest impatience, “you are so clueless that it’s starting to get on my nerves.”

“How do you call yourself a Hufflepuff?” I demanded of her, slightly nonplussed. “You’re supposed to be kind, patient, understanding and loyal.”

Sophie rolled her eyes in response. “Even the nicest Hufflepuff would have already lost their patience with you.”

She’s so sensitive, don’t you see? See how she treats her troubled, confused, recently singled ‘best friend’? She preferred to eat her cheese and tomato sandwich than answer me such a simple question. She preferred tomatoes over helping out a poor, wandering, needy soul such as myself. Tomatoes. Have I mentioned that I hate tomatoes?

And what did she mean by ‘clueless’? What, is it supposed to be obvious to me why I’m suddenly this happy? Actually, it’s not only Sophie, it’s everyone! They’ve all been saying these odd, cryptic things lately. Good Merlin, I feel as if they know me a lot better than I know myself. Am I missing something?

Well, anyway, all of last week I didn’t get around to writing much in this journal, because McGonagall insisted upon having conversations with me and James during our detentions. Yes, aside from shedding tears over our newly blooming friendship, she is actually trying to be a par of said friendship. I was right all along; she’s completely off her rocker. But I’m actually beginning to grow fonder of her. She has very interesting conversation topics, a possibility I had never thought to consider. We’ve chatted about everything from fancy dress robes to Mexican Muggle soap-opera, a subject I deem both the Professor and James to be inordinately fascinated by.

“It’s something about the way they pronounce the names,” Professor McGonagall confessed to us on Friday. “Diego. Rodrigo. Sonia. Eduardo. They’re very…enchanting.”

I was greatly disturbed by this and judging by the look on James’s face, so was he.

“How does she know about Mexican soap?” I asked James in a whisper as we bade McGonagall goodnight and left her room a little later than usual.

James waved this off as irrelevant and uninteresting. “I’m sure she has some distant Muggle relation somewhere. Most people do. Hey, do you think McGonagall’s had a secret love affair with some Mexican bloke named…Carlos?” James whispered to me, prolonging the ‘rrr’ sound disturbingly insinuatively.

“You’re just awful!” I told him in a whisper, making myself not burst into laughter.

“What? Their names are enchanting…” he sighed in a good imitation of McGonagall. “Oh, come on!”

“Well, what’s your excuse for liking Mexican soap?” I asked, laughing loudly, once we were a comfortable distance away from her office.

He shrugged and glanced at me, smiling roguishly. My stomach did a tango. “Sexy women,” he suggested.

I slapped him and he laughed.

We had settled into a comfortable routine. I awoke, not in the least way different from before, fell back asleep and was yelled at by Alex that if I didn’t get my ‘Royal Ass’ out of bed I would be late to Charms. I rushed through all of my morning rituals, ran down the stairs into the Common Room, was surprised by the sight of James waiting for me by the portrait hole and left with him to the Great Hall, for two minutes of breakfast, during which we shared amused looks of exasperation concerning the bewildered stares of the rest of the school. Then we ran along the corridors (out of sight of the Professors, of course, because for some reason we aren’t allowed to run in the halls. Stupid rule, if you ask me, as that is one of the only ways for some people to burn calories, and it isn’t as if we are going to break any priceless vases on our way to classes, as there aren’t priceless vases… I’m getting severely off track…), accompanied by Sophie, Sirius, Remus and Peter (who tended to bring more breakfast to keep him entertained along the way). We made it into Charms exactly on time, out of breath and content. I sat with Sophie right behind Sirius and James and to the left of Remus and Peter. Terry watched all of sullenly as we stifled laughter at one of Sirius’s inane and completely senseless jokes. Honestly, the boy acts as if he were in Kindergarten. But Sophie assures me that in other aspects he is very mature, which, of course, is a little too much information in my opinion.

The rest of the day usually continued in the same blissfully monotonous way. Not considering of course, all of the annoying and odd publicity my new friendships were earning. Honestly, people should have better things to do. Girls break up with their boyfriends all the time, and they make new friends just as commonly. I understand that James and I apparently have this whole ‘history,’ but that’s only just so fascinating. On Wednesday my lovely roommate Tamara actually asked me (jokingly, of course, else I should think her quite immature) if I’d undergone a brain transfusion with a llama. As if llamas were the James-Potter-friendly animal!

“Get used to it, Lily,” I was advised by Remus at breakfast on Thursday, after having recounted the lama incident to them all. “It only shows signs of getting worse.”

I frowned. “But, why? I mean, eventually they’ll get used to the idea that I’m friends with you lot. Nothing else is going to happen, why would it get worse?”

That’s what I mean when I say the world is conspiring to behave oddly around me. After I asked this they all burst into fits of coughing and refused to answer my question, until James told me seriously, “You’re absolutely right, Lily.”

But I didn’t miss that little twitch his lips made.

Well, back to the point. I’ve been having really great days. I’d forgotten how good it felt to be single. And if Terry and Kathy McKinnon would stop crossing me in the hallways, forcing me to look away and speed up involuntarily, I’d be having an absolutely swell time.

Oh, I have to tell this to someone… or something, doesn’t much make a difference to me. So on Friday James and I got back to the common room still laughing and joking about McGonagall and Mexican men to find that all of the Marauders, Rich, Sophie (to whom someone �“ three guesses who - must have probably told the password) and Maura seated at the best couch, right in front of the fire.

“Hey-hey!” shouted Sirius, raising his arms exuberantly as we approached. He was holding a green bottle in his right hand, and I’ll bet every last strand of hair of mine that what he had inside wasn’t orange juice. “If it isn’t the two miscreant Heads come to join the party!”

Peter burst into silly little giggles, and Maura snickered for a while as well. Remus looked on in silent amusement. To my amazement, I could see he had a bottle in his hand too.

“Geez, how many has he had already?” asked James laughingly, unfazed.

“That’s ‘bout his second,” Remus answered in a very steady voice.

“Don’t you think this is a little too risqué, even for you lot? I mean, McGonagall could come in here any minute and expel you for smuggling Firewhiskey in.” I nodded my head emphatically, eyeing all of the bottles. “And,” I added as an afterthought, “I’m not sure she would like it that Sophie’s in here either. Not that I don’t want you to be here,” I said to Sophie, who had looked annoyed for a moment.

“Oh, come on, Lily!” Sirius exclaimed, and to my utter surprise, yanked me over the couch and next to him. I regret to say I yelped. “We’re all of age here. And, don’t worry; we have our means of concealment.”

I had the urge to laugh at his comically happy face, but forced myself to say, “Well, it is still against the rules to bring alcohol into the school.” Nobody acted in the least perturbed about this, so I decided I would give up. And, I mean, every now and then, I guess some whiskey isn’t so bad.

“Be a good sport and don’t tattle on us, m’kay?” Sirius droned to me, looking me in the eye in a way his drunken mind probably considered suave and persuasive. That time, I did burst into laughter, just as James dropped down on the floor in front of us, between Rich and Maura, much to their disgruntlement, and took a bottle from under the couch.

“Where did you guys get all of these anyway?” Sophie asked, sounding impressed.

“I shan’t tell you, child!” Sirius yelled suddenly, pointing his finger at Sophie, making some weary third years over in the corner jump. Then he began to laugh hysterically, until James punched him in the stomach from his position on the floor.

“Seriously though, where did you guys get these?” It was Maura’s turn to ask, as Rich offered her a bottle with raised brows.

Peter opened his mouth, but Sirius put his finger to his lips and said, “Shh!” very loudly. Then he giggled. Yes, Sirius Black giggled.

“Sirius…” I poked him in the arm to make him look at me. “Truth or dare?”

For a few moments he gazed at me in confusion; then his look changed to that of suspicion. He considered me for several seconds, before saying smugly, “Dare!”

I grinned widely. He thought he’d gone away didn’t he? Ha! “I dare you to tell us where you got all these.”

“Oh, good one, Lily!” Sophie applauded me.

“You can’t dishonour a dare, or you’re not a Gryffindor,” Maura reminded him.

Sirius whined. “Fine.” He pouted for a while, looking back and forth between his friends. They all sort of shrugged. “We know another way out of the castle, actually several, and from them we can get to Hogsmeade… and, yeah.” He gazed around sullenly for a while, before his face lit up when he spotted Remus sipping from his bottle. “Moony, truth or dare to you!”

Remus, for some reason unbeknownst to me referred to as ‘Moony’, glared at Sirius for a while, poor thing. Then he sighed resignedly. “Dare.”

At this Sirius actually bounced in his seat. Honestly, if I can have anything to do with it, I’m never letting him near another bottle of alcohol for as long as I live. He becomes a perky little psychopath when he drinks.

“I dare you to stick your arse into the fire!”

“What?” Remus yelped while the rest of us looked torn between hysterics and real worry for Sirius’s sanity.

“Stick your arse into the fire. Do it Moony, I dare you!”

“No! That’s completely insane. I’ll get burned.”

“We’ll put you out,” Sirius suggested seriously.

“The hell you will! Sirius, give me that bottle,” Remus demanded, extending his hand. The rest of us watched in great amusement, our heads darting from one to the other.

“No! It’s mine!”

“Sirius, I think you’ve had enough.”

“Remus, I think you have to do your dare.”

“How about this,” James intervened as Remus looked as if he was ready to lunge at Sirius, and Sirius hugged the green bottle to his chest, “Sirius, you put the bottle away, just for now. And Moony, you just sort of… stand by the fire, you know. When your arse gets too hot for you, you can leave.” James finished this speech with a cracking face, as the rest of us snickered as well. Goodness, these boys are tremendously entertaining, see?

Remus blushed, but moved toward the fire nonetheless. He turned to us, all trying very hard to keep straight faces; Peter was actually turning purple for the effort. Remus noticed this.

“Peter… truth or dare?”

Peter scrunched his lips together and around, considering. He seemed to be in great concentrated decision, a thing I assure you isn’t witnessed all too often. In the end he decided on dare, looking weary.

Remus seemed pleased. He grinned and announced, glancing vengefully over at Sirius, “I dare you to kick Sirius in the unmentionables. Wait for an opportune moment.”

This made everyone laugh, except for Sirius (for obvious reasons), who yanked a pillow from under himself and placed it protectively between his legs. His bleary eyes focused on Peter, who looked almost as troubled as he. I suspect he assumes that approaching Sirius’s unmentionables, what with him not being one of Sirius’s love interests, is similar to signing one’s own death sentence. Even if Sirius is drunk to a flabbergasting extent.

“If you come near me,” Sirius told Peter fiercely, although the threatening affect was somewhat marred by the large hiccup that escaped from his mouth as he spoke, “I’ll permanently stick your head into a melon. And your dare won’t work, Remus, because I’m keeping my eyes peeled.”

“Not for long you aren’t,” Remus provoked. This is certainly a side of him that I hadn’t known before. I always thought he was so innocent and virtuous. But then again, I also thought that Sirius looked like he could hold his alcohol.

“So…” Peter interrupted, glancing around. “Rich. Truth or dare?”

“Dare, then.”

Peter stopped to think for a while. Even though he will always look like an empty-headed, pastry-eating machine to me, I guess he is sort of cute when he tries to think.

“I dare you to... to... to bury your boxers in the snow!”

Rich didn’t even look startled. He just merely looked sceptical, and asked, “Now?”

“Er, no, tomorrow morning, when there are tons of people around to see you do it.” Peter grinned, looking proud of himself, while Maura chuckled teasingly at Rich.

At this new bit of information Rich looked a little unhappy. He grumbled. He never grumbles. That made Maura giggle. She, on the other hand, always giggles. But even so, I’m becoming a bit fond of her too. I seem to be very prone to liking people lately. It must be some sort of post break-up syndrome.

“That’s going to be embarrassing...” Rich admitted. He looked around for a new victim, and I sort of hid behind Sirius (who, surprisingly, was still watching Peter wearily). “James, truth or dare?”

James lifted his head of the couch he was leaning on, between Maura and Rich. His glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose, and he pushed them back up while speaking. “Well, since everyone else has chosen ‘dare’ so far, I’ll go ahead and pick ‘truth.’”

“Who’s a better kisser; Tamara or Alex?”

Now, hold on a second. Tamara and Alex? My roommates? Why in blazes did Rich expect James to know that? And why was everybody else chuckling? Oh, no, never mind, they might be chuckling because Maura just leaned across James to smack Rich in the face and demand indignantly, “What does it matter to you which one is a better kisser, eh?”

James actually considered the question. I was certainly missing something.

“Wait, wait! You went out with Tamara and Alex?” For some reason I spoke a little louder than I’d intended. And I could actually feel my stupid heart speed up. Honestly, it must have some sort of malfunctioning. It’s completely incoherent in relation to my mind.

James raised his eyebrows. He eyed me curiously. Rich eyed me curiously. Sirius turned away from Peter to eye me curiously. Everyone eyed me curiously. Well, what? Did I have huge strands of seaweed in my teeth? I’m not a mutated specimen in a zoo to be ogled at like that, you know.

“I went out with Alex,” James told me, and suddenly my heart felt a little... tight, maybe? There goes another organ I should add to the list of defaults. Goodness, I’m like a walking and talking disease. “Tamara, I only snogged.”

I gaped. “Oh. I didn’t know that.”

“That’s because you hated him, Lily,” Sophie most helpfully reminded me. Her abundant sensitivity shows through once more, I hope you’ve noticed. “Whenever a gossip bearer came around and said, ‘Guess who Potter’s snogging?’ you’d stick your fingers in your ears and say, ‘No, don’t tell me! It’ll only make me feel acute revulsion and pity for the poor girl, and possibly make me regurgitate my lunch’.”

Goodness! I was beginning to discover that Sophie’s blunt brutality dwelled in a whole new dimension. I cringed deeply. “I did, didn’t I?” I asked weakly.

“You did,” Rich assured me, nodding.

I chanced a glance at James. He was staring at me amusedly. Why, I have no clue. But at least it’s better than if he were actually offended.

“Tamara is a better kisser,” James confessed to everyone.

“I agree!” Sirius shouted, lifting his bottle as if for a toast. Then he put his arm around Sophie’s neck and continued, “But Sophie’s even better!”

Sophie turned beet red, I know not if from embarrassment or because Sirius was cutting off all circulation to her head.

“That was too much information,” Rich grumbled cringing. “Shut up, Sirius. Anyway, why is she a better kisser?” he added, ignoring Maura’s kicking his shin.

“Who, Sophie?” Sirius barked.

“NO! That’s absolutely disgusting.”

“Gee, thanks, Rich,” Sophie snorted, rolling her eyes, still looking like a tomato.

“Hey, you’re free to snog who you want,” Rich objected, raising his hands defensively, “I’ve got nothing against it I just really don’t want to know the details. Neither do I want to know the details about the way Lily snogs. Please just spare me.”

“Then why exactly do you want to know why Tamara’s a better kisser?” Maura glared at him angrily, arms crossed over her abundant chest.

Rich sighed resignedly. “For extremely platonic curiosity. You are the only one I’m interested in any other way.”

Aw! How cute! I had no idea Rich was capable of being sweet and romantic. Neither was Sophie, judging by the dumbfounded look on her face. Maura was pleased. She got up, stepped over James, inconveniently placed between them, and sat down onto Rich’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him firmly. Sirius immediately burst into enthusiastic cheer. For that reason, I think, Rich and Maura pulled away rather quickly, although they didn’t show any signs of wanting to.

“Look, she’s a better kisser because I think she’s a better kisser. I don’t have to answer that, it wasn’t part of the question.” James looked cheeky and challenging. I almost found myself thinking ‘aw’ again. What the hell is the matter with me?

“Lily!”

I jumped about a foot into the air when James said my name. And when I found his eyes on mine, my heart went gallivanting all around my chest and I couldn’t seem to get a hold on it again. There was something mischievous in his look. That was becoming a synonym of a near heart attack for me. Damn it! I need a doctor.

“Truth or dare, Lily?”

“Er… well … dare!”

The mischievous glint became even more pronounced. My heart sped up to an alarming rate. Goodness, I would have given anything to know what he was thinking… Because I was curious. I was very, very curious!

“I dare you to go skinny-dipping in the lake.”

All was silent.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Yes, I heard, but I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?”

“Why? Well, because it’s just ridiculous. We’re not even allowed to be out now, let alone go prancing through the lake completely starkers.”

“Don’t worry; we’ll keep watch for you.”

“You will do no such thing. You’re not going anywhere near me!”

“Ah, so you’ve agreed?”

“What? No!”

“What’s the matter? Are you scared, Lily?”

Oh, that did it! Just that. No one ever gets away with calling me a coward, even if I have to do something tremendously preposterous, like stripping and going for a swim in the lake in the end of March. It is beginning to scare me how well he knows me.

I leaped to my feet, glaring challengingly at him.

“Not a chance,” I said firmly.

Sirius raised his arms and cheered. Peter chose this moment to kick him you-know-where.

“Ha!” Remus shouted triumphantly. “Revenge!”

So, dear hypothetically amused reader, I, Lily Evans, went skinny-dipping on a dare. Can you imagine such a thing? I certainly couldn’t have. I couldn’t have imagined myself playing ‘truth or dare’ either. And I couldn’t imagine I’d call James Potter a friend, or Sirius Black funny, or Rich romantic, or Sophie blushing. A lot of things I couldn’t have imagined are happening. It’s as if everything I’ve ever stated impossible is taking place, just so I can be proven wrong. Well, I get it. I accept. And I like it.

I wonder what McGonagall would say if she found out I’d gone skinny-dipping. I wonder what James thinks she would say. I already know I’m going to have another hilarious conversation once I get out of here.

And you know what, anonymous reader? I haven’t thought about Terry, or Kathy McKinnon, for three full days.

Lily Evans, Skinny-Dipper Extraordinaire

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Hi guys! Did you like this chapter? And sorry for the wait, but I hope it was worth it.

I just couldn't resist writing something in about Mexican Soap. I'm not a fan myself, but many brazilians are, although I agree with McGonagall that Spanish is the sexiest language. And some of those dares were taken from personal experience... I won't say which ones, though.

To anyone who is interested, I have a few new one-shots. And I have a new chaptered romance, The Unorthdodox Artist. It's Draco/Cho. Doesn't that sound interesting? *nudge*

Thanks to Katie for betaing for me once more. And thanks to YOU for so kindly reviewing and telling me what you want to happen to Sophie and Sirius! Friends? Lovers?

What do you think?

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First, I’ll get the required information out of the way. Today is Tuesday, March 24th, blah, blah, blah…

I have a new nickname. I don’t like it in the least, it’s embarrassing and disproportionately dumb, but according to Sirius I just ‘don’t appreciate his sort of humour’. Well, if ‘his sort’ of humour involves a subtle sex-fixation and the propensity to throw people into consternating, mortifying situations, then no, I have no grasp upon his sort of humour.

Well, I was first identified with the previously mentioned nickname yesterday…

I was standing around minding my own business at the door to the Potions dungeon, while secretly shifting my eyes every now and then to eye Tamara, leaning against the wall on the other side of the door, chatting to Perfidy. I was just letting my mind wander casually, you know, thinking how it makes absolutely no sense that James thinks she’s such a great kisser. I mean, I’ve got nothing against her, and really, it’s nothing to me who James Potter decides he’s in the mood of snogging, but she just doesn’t give off any ‘I-just-so-happen-to-be-an-extraordinary�“kisser’ vibes…

Well, sure, she is rather curvy and, I suppose, attractive; and yes, she does have very full and red lips… and I suppose she’s got a reputation similar to Sirius’, only of a female variety, but when you truly stop to think about it, she’s nothing spectacular. I simply have to conclude that James has weird taste in women… of course, that’s not such a happy thought for me, as there was once a time that he was head�“over�“heels about me… I’m sure that’s a ‘was’. It’s so obvious he’s over me. And I’m glad, of course. Don’t think for a second that talking of James’ feelings for me in the past tense bugs me. It’s a relief, actually…

I just wonder why. I mean, what exactly did I do to make him stop liking me? So maybe I threw pie at him and dyed his hair green. Maybe I called him a liar more than once. But he was allegedly so in love with me, I thought it would take something bigger and more drastic to make him stop fancying me. Well, I suppose he never liked me that much to begin with. Another huge relief, if you ask me. I mean, who needs to be fawned and obsessed over like that by some lovesick guy? Honestly, I never cared for the situation, and…

Gah! I’ve drifted violently away from the subject at hand. One minute I’m discussing the absurdness of Sirius’s nickname for me, the next I’m writing a million miles an hour about Tamara, the Super Lip�“Locker, and James’ past fancies. I haven’t a clue how that happened. I think I need to meditate: get my brain back into its appropriate spot in the universe. It’s drifted somewhere out past Pluto.

SO, back to a far more interesting matter than the ‘who�“likes�“who’s of Hogwarts. I was standing there minding my own business, like I said. I was alone. Which may seem strange, as the Marauders, Sophie, Rich (even Maura, sometimes) and I have been very much joined to the hip these days. Well, Sophie had a different class that period, Rich and Maura aren’t in our year and when I went up to the boys' dorm in the morning to check what was keeping James, Sirius and Peter (apparently Remus was off visiting his sick aunt again) I discovered them all snoozing away in their beds, covers thrown to the side and in sleeping positions I would never have managed to sleep in. Sirius was curled up near the end of his in a way much resembling a dog. Peter was lying on his back, snoring, with his mouth so open I could have almost stuffed my Transfiguration textbook into it. And James had practically half of his body hanging off the side of his bed and a piece of grass in his mouth. Boys! Honestly.

As if that weren’t enough, they were all wearing jeans. Pyjamas aren’t fashionable enough anymore.

I won’t go into details about how I did everything within my power to wake them up. I even went into the bathroom, filled a cup with cold water and dumped it all over James’ head and bare chest. It didn’t work. He just bucked for a while and then settled back into the occupation of lying there like a grumbling and otherwise unresponsive pile of hormones.

So, aside from the occasional company Sophie provided when we shared the same class, I was rather lonesome on Monday. I assumed the boys were still upstairs working off hangovers from a secret Firewhiskey�“fest the previous night. They only showed up right before last period Potions… Which brings us back to me minding my own business by the door.

I was just standing there brooding about Tamara and James and… oh, life in general, I meant to say! Really! That was just a slip of the pen. Contrary to any impression you might have of me, hypothetical reader, I don’t spend all of my time thinking of James Potter and related subjects. Please! What a pathetic existence that would be.

Once again, back to the subject at hand: when I least expected it, from behind me someone greeted, “Why look! It’s the Queen of Nudity.”

You can believe it or not, but that ‘Queen of Nudity’ was directed at me.

I tried ignoring it but soon enough Sirius had placed an arm around my shoulders and continued talking, as if he hadn’t just spewed a monumentally embarrassing, not to mention stupendously awful nickname.

“You missed us terribly, did you not, Your Highness?” he went on saying.

Every other student waiting for the class to begin turned around to watch this new unrolling comedy, me and Sirius at the very centre of it. So lovely! I look forward to these sort of moments my entire life. I kid you not.

“Don’t you dare, Sirius! Shut up and keep quiet or I’ll do much more damage to you than Peter ever could’ve dreamed of doing,” I hissed in my most threatening voice. The effect was probably entirely ruined by the fact my cheeks now looked like two little petunias in full bloom.

“Why, your Royal Nakedness! We’re feeling aggressive this morning, aren’t we?”

“I’m not even going to address you anymore, Sirius, you �“ you…”

Hypothetical reader, I was not distraught. No. I just couldn’t find a bad enough word to address him with… Even though I said I wouldn’t address him anymore.

“How could you get past a day without speaking to me?” Sirius smirked.

I shoved his arm off my shoulder and glared at him. I could feel the heat radiating off my face. The fires of hell temporarily relocated themselves.

“With pleasure!” I spat and marched three steps away from him toward the door of the class. It didn’t have as much dramatic effect as I had hoped, of course. It’s not very dramatic to stand with crossed arms, facing a locked door while the person you are attempting to ignore continues his humiliating conversation with you. Not dramatic at all. I’d advise you not to try it anytime too. People actually seem to find it quite humorous, see.

“You’ll have to start tomorrow; you’ve already spoken to me today,” the oaf went on, speaking to the back of my head.

“Come on, Sirius, give her a bit of a break,” I heard someone say. It sounded very much like James.

Not that it matters to me who’s defending me. James or Peter or Remus, or whoever, really. No difference at all to me. I mean it.

“Fine,” Sirius appeared to consent, to my astonishment. While I must use threats and resort to unsuccessful, childish shenanigans to deal with Sirius, James gets him to quit his awful antics with a simple entreaty. Very impressive.

Of course, that isn’t to say that it wouldn’t be equally impressive if it had been someone else that had done it.

I turned around and James was standing there, grinning at me. For some reason, even though moments ago I’d been severely annoyed, I couldn’t help but smile back.

“We already put her through enough as it is,” he announced cryptically to the gathered crowd, looking at me. I knew they were all going to start gossiping a million miles an hour about the elusive reasons behind my publicized nudity. But I would not stop smiling. Bugger.

“I suppose you’re right, Prongs,” said Sirius coming over to us and clapping a hand upon James’ shoulder, just as Professor Slughorn bumbled his way through the small crowd. “We best just go into class.” He made a grand sweeping motion as Slughorn fumbled the key into the door. “After you, Miss Birthday Suit.”

You know, teachers (especially of the male variety) never really seem to have any sympathy for students when it comes to genital related injuries. I’ve noticed that…


Well, that’s the tragic saga behind my new nickname. Not a soul in this school seems to have anything interesting to do, because soon enough third years were stopping me in the hallways to ask whether it was true that I had single-handedly established a secret prostitution rink within the school, involving payment through Ballroom costumes. Don’t ask. Sometimes I think people don’t listen at all to what others say, and rather just choose random words, stringing them together and coming up with preposterous things such as these.

Oh, there is actually a pair of people that seems far too interested in something a little less… trivial.


So, James, Peter and I were making our way out of Herbology and up to the common room on that same day. Sophie had gone ahead (reasonable, as her common room is in a completely different direction) and Sirius had left early (unreasonable, as they didn’t give me a reason). Remus was with his sick aunt, poor thing.

Rich was burying his underwear in a pile of snow on the left side of the courtyard.

It was rather entertaining. There was a gaggle of people watching and laughing their heads off. Maura stood there in an attempt to be sympathetic, yet snorting as well. We came around to watch just as Rich turned away from the pile of snow and the crowd cheered and slapped him on the back. He grimaced, blushing very deeply. Then taking hold of Maura’s hand firmly, dragged her away toward dinner. She had progressed into a state of hysterics by the time he got her out of the courtyard.

So, we were walking up just after this little incident took place. Oh, Peter had just told us that he couldn’t wait around for us to put our books away; he had to eat. It had been two full hours since he’d eaten anything! So, technically, it was only me and James.

We were talking about my Great Aunt Polly. I’m not quite sure how the subject came up… one moment we were discussing Venomous Tentaculas, the next I’m blabbing about Great Aunt Polly and how she’d started stuffing her bras with grapes after a certain age.

“So, what did she do? Just whip up a bigger sized bra and decide to stuff it with the first fruit that came to mind?” James asked, sounding very amused.

“No,” I said somewhat defensively. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what she did. All I know is that in the last two summers of her life whenever I hugged her she was, well… pebbly.”

This sent James into a scream of mirth.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that funny! Loads of people stuff their bras…” I attempted to counter. He looked like he might just fall down and roll around the floor hilariously.

“Sure,” he managed to say between gasps, as he dragged himself along in my stead, grasping the railings. “But with grapes? What if she were running around or something, or what if she decided to… to do a cartwheel and all of the grapes just poured out of her shirt?”

Well, that was pretty funny, I had to admit. I started imagining Aunt Polly doing cartwheels in this old pilgrim dress (which in and of itself is plenty amusing) and Petunia and me dashing across to get the little grapes and eat them. I suppressed the urge to break down just like James.

“My mom says that she thinks Great Aunt Polly always stuffed her bra. But, once she got to be ninety-three, she just stuffed them with anything at all. I don’t know why specifically grapes, though… But, hey, I bet there are girls in school that stuff their bras,” I branched off into another direction, with something in mind.

James was still snickering as he walked beside me. “Is that so? I haven’t found any stray grapes in the corridors…”

I rolled my eyes.

Suddenly, James grasped my arm and looked at me very seriously. “Lily.”

My breathing went haywire. “What?”

“Do you stuff your bra with grapes?”

I sighed emphatically as he went nuts again.

“But I bet some people here do. Not with grapes, I mean.” I repeated.

James eyed me interestedly. “Who?”

I breathed in. “Oh, I don’t know… I think Tonia Edwards might. And… maybe Daphne Cullen. Or even, say, Tamara.”

I tried to say it nonchalantly. I thought I had too, but no. I continued on walking down the hall for a while before I realised that James wasn’t beside me. Once I turned around I realised he had stopped walking and was standing about a mile away, staring at me as I stood at the bend of the corridor, a broom closet beside me.

“What?” I called back innocently.

He started walking toward me, beginning to smile. I felt my face heat. By the time he got to me, the fires of hell were once again having a party on my face.

“Lily?” he asked, the second time that day.

“What?” I asked again quietly.

He smirked. “Are you jealous of Tamara?”

I tried to glare at him. I mean, how would I react to that? I didn’t want to adm… I mean, it was a stupid question of him to ask of me. Really. Jeez.

“You wish,” I muttered, not sounding as tough as I wanted to.

He just smirked. Before I could muster up the energy it took to actually take the smugness from his face, he became alert instead.

“Do you hear that?”

I didn’t. I thought he was hallucinating.

“Really, it’s like… voices.” He turned his attention toward the broom closet door.

As we remained silent and James edged toward the door, I could hear what he meant. There were voices in the broom closet.

Now, voices in the broom closet never mean anything good. Either there are two people in there plotting world domination, or there are two people in there far too distracted to realise that anyone’s eavesdropping. James seemed to be sure that we had in our hands one of the second cases. He had his ear against the door and his finger against his lips, waving a hand around, indicating that I should be quiet.

“Damn, I can’t figure out who it is,” he was muttering so quietly I could only hear him when I assumed the same position. See what they have reduced me to? Eavesdropping on… broom closet mayhem.

He started to gently pound his pockets around.

“What are you looking for?” I hissed.

“A… map,” he muttered vaguely.

“We’re not lost, James.”

“I know, I just want to know who’s in this closet.”

“Well, a map isn’t going to tell you that. You might as well just knock on the door and ask who’s in there.”

“I know, but it’s so much easier when I have the map.”

“Wait! I’m confused. What in the world-”

I didn’t finish my sentence. James knocked on the door.

“James!” I hissed, leaping away as he dashed down the corner, yanking on my arm to drag me with him.

We stopped once we got around the corner and conspicuously stood with our heads peeking around, waiting for the culprits to dash out the door.

“Isn’t this fun?” he asked me from above.

I would have crossed my eyes at him, only I didn’t take them off the door. “Your idea of amusement is so disturbing to me.”

“Man, they’re taking a while! I suppose they have to… assemble themselves.”

“Perhaps it would be best if you just kept your mouth shut.”

But he was right. They took a long time. I began to think that they hadn’t even noticed the knock. Eventually, they did come out. This may come as a shock to some of you, but it was Sophie and Sirius. They were in there… being distracted.

Well, needless to say, I’m still rather shocked. I barely said a word as James and I made our way up to the common room, while he tried by every means to get the alarm out of my system. He seemed actually worried.

I’m somewhat recovered now. I mean, after much mulling it over, I suppose Sophie’s made worse choices before. And now that I’ve gotten to know Sirius somewhat, he really isn’t that bad. He may threaten, but he’s harmless, just so long as you don’t get on his bad side (which, obviously, Sophie isn’t). And I’m sure he still likes her, in his strange way. And she adores him in her strange way. She’s not that fragile either, anymore.

I suppose it could be alright. But Sirius better run for his life if he ever hurts my friend again! His balls won’t be safe, wherever he goes.

Time to pack up now! James has been done for a good five minutes. He just sits there, staring around at the ceiling with his mouth slightly open. Whenever I look over, I laugh. He looks so cute when he forgets someone’s watching…

Well, er, I’ll just stop writing now. My mind is sort of tired, I guess; it’s spewing out things it’s not supposed to.

Lily Evans, Her Royal Nakedness

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I missed writing these things.

Anyway, as you know, I'd LOVE to hear what you think! Please review. So, Sophie and Sirius, huh...? Jealousy, huh...? Grapes, huh...? Come on, tell me what you think!

Thanks to my beta harrypotterfangirl21 for her wonderful help. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story through that very long wait.

And I've got a new one-shot up. It's mostly about Sirius and Regulus. It's much darker than this, but I truly love it!

So... thoughts?

Good day, most likely non-existent reader. How is your hypothetical life going?

Professor McGonagall’s laws on detention will have you know (through me) that today is Wednesday, April 8th, it is roughly 7:30 pm, and I am once again sitting in the Transfigurations classroom. You know, after all of this extra time I’ve been spending in here, I think that I’m going to make a permanent imprint upon this encroaching space. For example, my frantic words from my earlier journal entries will be carved into this desk due to the ferociousness with which I wrote (future students will sit here and decipher non-linear phrases such as ‘bumbling ignoramus...’, ‘...chuck food for your life...,’ ‘...Evans, Criminal Mastermind’, and ‘...Gobstones’). Furthermore, I think my arse will have made a lasting imprint upon this chair once this is all over.

Well, anyway, I was just thinking forlornly about last Sunday, which just so happened to be a particularly beautiful and sunny early spring day. It’s been getting progressively warmer around Hogwarts, which is quite lovely, of course. However, with the sun, comes a more harried countdown to our NEWT’s.

Phooey! I think that quite adequately expresses my sentiments on the subject. I may be Head Girl and top of most of my classes, but the prospect of a life after NEWTs, a life after Hogwarts, isn’t that scrumptious. You know, what with the finding a paying job, and then paying for, oh, I don’t know, everything.

Also, contradictory to what the professors seem to think, I doubt any of the 7th years are looking forward to sitting through hours and hours of tortuous examinations, scavenging through our brains for that spell we learned when we were twelve that turns toenails into yams, or something just as useful. They are all beginning to buzz with excitement. Honestly, are they really that old that they don’t remember what it was like when they were facing the same thing? Well... I guess that question takes for granted the assumption that our Professors were normal human teenagers, you know, who didn’t find sadistic pleasure in taking NEWTs...

But returning to what I had intended to say, I’ve been spending quite a bit more time studying as of late. And usually, my studying sessions involve finding James and then being led by him to some secret room, in some secluded part of the castle, ‘so as not to be bothered’. We sit together on incredibly plush couches, quizzing each other on Charms, Runes, or Potions, and we never notice how late it gets. We often accidentally stay up past curfew while studying, but we always manage to get back unnoticed. James always knows of some conveniently-located door behind some mouldy tapestry of drunken clergy, or similar mischievousness. I’ve been enjoying myself quite a bit, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more driven to study. Must just be the NEWT panic setting in... Although, I don’t exactly feel panicked. Actually, the environment in our secret rooms when we study is almost light-hearted, and even romantic, I would say...

Erm, that is, I would say, if I were interested in James that way, and if he were in me. I am positive that he no longer is. Interested in me, that is; I’m positive that he isn’t interested in me any longer. He got over me quite quickly, actually. I’m still nonplussed about that, but pleased, of course. And I know for a fact that he is now asserting our platonic relationship to me...

Obviously, though, I’m quite aware of the nature of our relationship, and am in no need of any asserting from him. It is all quite clear to me.

So... Sunday... yes, I think I was talking about this particularly beautiful weekend a while ago. Yes, it was spectacularly sunny. Sophie decided that it would be an absolute travesty to waste such a beautiful day indoors. However, Peter refused point-blank to forsake lunch for sunlight (honestly, this boy can’t go without food for two infinitesimal fractions of a second, how is it he hasn’t grown to be the size of a small mountain troll?) so Remus came up with a compromise: we would take lunch outside too. Let’s call it a picnic.

We sat ourselves down by a shady tree with our picnic basket. Sirius immediately flung himself upon the newly re-growing grass dramatically, Remus found a spot by the tree trunk, Sophie took a seat in the sun, and Rich sat down next to James and I. Peter plopped himself down in the centre of the unintentionally geometrical figure we had formed and exclaimed, “Wow, I’m glad I brought lunch with us.”

Well, I found this statement to be ridden with some irony, as it was Rich who technically ‘brought lunch’ with us, stuffed into that basket that Peter began to dismember in search of all things edible. He started placing around himself sandwiches of all sorts, various healthy fruits [emit sounds of surprise here], crackers, a pitcher of juice, and tomato paste...

May I just comment for a moment on how ludicrous an invention ‘tomato paste’ is? As if tomatoes weren’t gruesome enough on their own, someone decided to drop them into a blender with some leafy herbs and turn the whole mess into goo. Brilliant! Oh, dear, please don’t skimp on those helpings! Bah...

“Well, this is nice,” James conceded. He was smiling lazily, gazing off over the lake.

“I told you lot it would be!” Sophie insisted , leaning her head back to let her face catch the sunlight. “If it’s nice again later this week we could come out here after classes, bring our books...”

“Yeah... at sunset this would be really romantic...” I heard Sirius say. His glance in Sophie’s direction did not escape my deeply observant eyes. Before I could properly formulate this thought, ‘Um... what? Sirius Black thinks something other than third base on a first date is romantic?’ Sirius had added, “It’s just too bad that the Deviant Heads have gone and landed themselves in detention for all of eternity. We could have had those hours to spend together, you know. It’s just too bad.”

“Sirius,” James began. He was sitting quite close to me. I could see the wind ruffling individual strands in his crazy mess of hair, “let me remind you that you have detention tomorrow as well.”

“Really? I do? What for..?”

“For telling Professor Treacle that there is more dirt under her nails than there is in a Flobberworm’s intestines.”

“Oh, yes... well I had to; she was trying to run her gross hands through my hair!” Sirius defended himself sassily.

As I turned to listen to Remus, I found Sirius’ comment to be highly ignorable. “Speaking of detentions, how are those going anyway?” Remus asked.

“What, with McGonagall and the journals of psychosis?” James laughed. There went his hair, shinning and ruffling and being all mesmerizing...

“A mixture of pain and amusement, as usual,” I answered, turning away from James’ hair. (Stupid pretty strands of dead cells!) “She doesn’t take them quite so seriously anymore.”

“Yes, because she accomplished her goal in life and brought you two together in friendship,” Rich replied from my other side. “I think that after that she’s allowed to relax a little.”

“You know what I wish though?” James asked, turning toward me. “I wish she still talked to us about that Muggle soap, La Alma Gemela. I wonder if Marieta managed to escape from her grotesque husband with his brother Simon.”

“Oh, I doubt it,” I replied excitedly. “I bet she’ll only be happy at the very end; you know the episode with all of the weddings and the villain’s demise over a rocky cliff. I was wondering if Theresa decided to keep Antonio’s baby, even after she found out he’s her half-brother.”

Before James could express to me how excited he was about the upcoming revelations, Sirius suddenly exclaimed loudly, pointing at James, “Ay, callate!”

Well... thanks so much Black, for interrupting my soap talk with your horrendously-pronounced Spanish exclamations. Although, looking around I sensed that no one else seemed to share my anger at the interruption.

“That’s quite enough of that conversation, gracias,” Sirius went on. “I drew the line at incest. Prongs, I challenge you to some one-on-one Quidditch.”

“Oh, make that two-on-two,” said Remus as he stood up from the tree trunk. “Me and Wormtail against you and Prongs.”

I glanced toward Sirius to see him smiling ‘angelically’ at his friend. Oh, Merlin’s pantalones! Brace yourself Remus. “You know, Moony, your ardent desire to play must be due to the fact that it’s been a while since you last... rode a broom.”

Ugh. Most of us cringed (except Peter, who laughed with his mouth full) at the innuendo as ‘Moony’ turned red. Might’ve been an innocent comment coming from someone else’s mouth. But this is Sirius Black; he can’t say ‘a hinky-punk’s mandible’ without making it sound inappropriate.

“Fine.” Remus glared at Sirius. “I’ve just rearranged our teams. James and I will play Sirius and Peter. Then you two can have rousing discussion about your favourite broom handling techniques.”

As the group chuckled and Peter chocked on... something, Sirius yelled adamantly, ignoring the laughter and the jibe, “No way! I won’t go with Peter. He just ate the whole bloody basket of food. His poor broomstick is probably going to snap with just the weight of his nose hairs!”

“That was hurtful,” Peter somehow managed to reproach through a mouthful of kiwis.

James joined the argument. “How is this conversation about broomsticks any better than our conversation about soap operas?”

“Oh Merlin!” Sirius sighed angrily. “I can feel my manliness evaporating as we speak. Let’s go whack balls at each other with big clubs, urgently!”

The Marauders laughed appreciatively. James joined and started getting up. As he stood he placed his hand over mine that was resting on my knee...

...And there I go again. Um, heart? Please SHUT UP!

“See you Lily!” he said with a private grin. Then he waved at Sophie and Rich and hurried away after his friends.

I suppose I must have been watching his... I meant to write ‘their’ retreating backs for maybe two seconds too long, because the next thing I knew, Sophie was leaning over to snap her fingers in my face, saying “Earth to Lily!”

I turned sharply towards her and Rich, swatting her hand away. “What! What?”

Sophie was smirking in a very unbecoming fashion. “I called your name three times, Lily. You were so preoccupied with something that you didn’t even hear me.”

I harrumphed and shook my head. “Well, you must’ve been whispering when you called me. I was just watching them leave, I’m sure I would have heard-“

“By ‘them’,” Rich interrupted rudely, “you mean James’ ass, right?”

I spluttered. What? That’s so absurd! It’s ridiculous. I found this comment to be simply preposterous and out of line, and I told Rich so.

“Oh, no, you weren’t watching his ass?” Sophie inquired, still smirking. “Alright then, you were observing his chiselled shoulders.”

“No!” I all but screamed. “I was not-”

“Was it his elegant gait?” Rich asked, interrupting me again. How rude.

“The echo of his laughter?” Sophie rejoined their stupid guessing game.

“Oh, you were thinking about his lingering scent?”

“No! I know, it was the slope of his-”

“Oh Godric, enough already!” I finally snapped. “When will you two stop being so childish?”

The two of them were laughing happily at my bitter discomfort. Such lovely friends, I have. No wonder I throw pies at people. “We’ll stop,” Sophie was saying, “when you finally admit to us that you have a thing for James.”

...Ha. No. Not even at all. I’ll repeat, it’s absurd. Impossible. Ha. Haha.

“No. I do not. We are just friends, and I do not fancy him,” I assured them with dignity.

They didn’t seem to be entirely convinced by my honesty. (Drat.)

“Really?” asked Rich sceptically. “You’re just friends? Yes, yes, I see, that’s why you spent hours and hours plotting against him.”

I snorted. Goodness, my friend is confused. “Well, that was because I hated him then, and wanted-”

“Yes,” Sophie said nodding at Rich amusedly. “Friends often send each other boyfriend-repelling flowers.”

“That is completely beside the point, how is that relevant to-”

“Absolutely,” Rich agreed. Bugger; they really have picked up this sarcasm thing from me. “And friends definitely spend all of their free time together in dark, secret rooms studying by candlelight.”

I blushed. Well... there were no candles, but... codswallop-fizzing-bitch-screaming-stupid-dammit-pickle-headed-drat-it-all-to-hell! They’d made an actual valid point.

I think Sophie saw some sort of struggle on my face, because her voice softened as she said, “Lily, we never even see you anymore because you spend all of your time with him.”

I cringed. Was that true? “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize...”

“No, shut up,” said Rich. Well. He knows how to frazzle a sensitive moment. “We don’t want you to apologize. We just want you to admit to yourself and us why you’re spending all of your time with him.”

Well, of course I could answer that. You see, we’ve devised this great NEWT study schedule, and we work quite well together... also... we’ve still got our detentions, and... We’ve just become friends, so... I’m spending more time with him because... well... because we’ve just...

Oh, who am I kidding?

“Fine,” I sighed. “Fine. I... well; I think I might fancy him. There. Fine.”

I think my two best friends have behavioural problems. Rich pointed at me triumphantly, with a wild facial expression, saying “HA!” and Sophie started laughing somewhat maniacally.

“Oh, I knew it. I’ve known it for a while, but it’s still so satisfying to hear you admit it!” She managed to say through her cackles. Evil cackles.

I let them act like crazed apes for a while, my arms crossed over my chest and my face aflame. Have I ever mentioned how much more obvious a violent blush looks on red-heads? It’s just not fair.

Eventually, I had to bring them back to reality. “But it doesn’t make a difference, either way, whether I like him or not. Which, I’ll remind you, I’m not sure of.”

They stared at me, still amused, but now with a dash of confusion. “What are you talking about?” Sophie asked. “You just admitted that you fancy James Potter. Do you know how momentous that is?”

“Maybe for me it’s important. But it won’t make any difference in his life.”

Rich snorted. “Oh, of course he won’t care. He won’t even bat an eye. ‘Oh, what say you? Lily Evans likes me? The girl I’ve been chasing for two years? The girl with the almond-shaped zucchini eyes? Oh, no big ho-hum.’ Yeah, Lily, he won’t care at all.”

“No, he won’t,” I insisted. By Godric, sarcasm could get annoying, I was discovering. “He hasn’t asked me out once since I broke up with Terry. Not once. He hasn’t done any of the things he used to do. He hasn’t composed ballads, or compared me to weird vegetables, or... anything. I think I really am just a friend to him now. So no, he won’t be jumping for joy if he finds out I might like him.”

Rich and Sophie stopped looking devilishly pleased with themselves for once. This was all true; they couldn’t deny it. I tried to look nonchalant as I looked at their faces, but I doubt I did a very good job of it.

“Lily,” Sophie started cautiously. “He liked you for such a long time. I don’t think he would stop liking you so suddenly, especially after everything-”

“But that’s the thing,” I interrupted. “He didn’t really know me before. Once he got to actually know me recently, he realized that he only thinks of me as a friend.”

I’d been suspecting this for a while, but admitting it out-loud to them felt like such a blow. Once James actually got close to me, he stopped liking me. Wow. I gave up trying to smile.

“Look,” Rich persisted. “You can’t know that for sure. That’s just what you think at this point.”

‘Tell me you think otherwise,’ I wanted to say.

“Yeah,” Sophie agreed, nodding encouragingly. “Come on, be a Gryffindor. Talk to him about it. Make yourself have the tough conversations.”


Hmm... the tough conversations? Well, I think that we can establish by now that I’m not good at ‘the tough conversations’. All I have to do is think about how I never even spoke to Terry during our ‘breakup’. I just let things fall apart on their own. I couldn’t even face it.

And somehow, asking James how he felt about me now was even scarier than confronting Terry about our ruined relationship and about Kathy McKinnon.

On Sunday, after the Marauders returned from their impromptu Quidditch match (James and Remus had won. Sirius came back muttering something about extreme diets and the wind being too rough with his hair) we all prepared to return to our studies. As usual I left with James. I was aware of the way Rich and Sophie watched me curiously in what they of course thought was a very discreet manner. I was also acutely aware of the way my stupid heart went flouncing in circles to the tune of his voice...

Ugh. What is my heart doing? Flouncing? No. I refuse to become sappy, no matter if I like him or not... and of course, I could still be wrong about liking him. Perhaps it’s just...

...nerves.

Sure.

Right, well anyway, my time’s up. I guess I’ll go back to NEWT prep, and to the questionable subject of my poor little heart’s tintinnabulations.

Lily Evans

So, diary-like agent, today is Thursday, April 15th, and as far as days go this has been a pretty interesting one. I've come up with an extremely clever way to summarize the emotions I have been feeling (it's quite witty, I'm sure you'll appreciate it). I call it the four 'C's: curiosity, closeness, closure and confusion.

Allow me to explain. The subject of my curiosity is Kathy McKinnon... Actually, I'm just going to qualify something very quickly here before I continue - I feel some curiosity, you know, it's not like I'm itching, or twitching, or dying with it, for goodness sake. Well, anyway, the second 'C': I feel 'closer' to Remus. We had a nice little chat about my poor life decisions. Thirdly, amazingly enough, I feel closure with Terry. You remember him, my ex-boyfriend who just so happened to fall in love with someone else? Yeah, we chatted too. I'm beginning to think diplomacy should be my new career choice. I've been reaping such good results from my dialogues! Well, anyway, let's proceed to the last 'C'. I'm 'confused'. I'm confused about James. Woooo, surprise!

He's ignoring me. I walked in a little late to detention to find him already here, sitting right at the front of the room and pointedly ignoring me. I tried catching his eye with a mild lack of subtlety but he just stared at McGonagall's desk as if he wanted to pulverize it with his gaze. I don't know about you, hypothetical reader, but that sort of body language usually indicates dissatisfaction to me. Well, that's great. It's official: he hates me! That, or he's realized how insanely attracted to him I am and he figures that, for the good of both of us, he has to ignore me. I'll insert another short qualification here, for clarity's sake - about when I mentioned this so-called insane attraction: that is what I'm presuming he thinks. Of course it's not actually true! My attraction to him is perfectly sane and in control! Just for the record, you know, since I'm not allowed to cross things out in this stupid journal/unfortunate outlet of my troubled mind.

Anyway, yes, James is confusing. He seems upset now, but he was fine this morning. How puzzling! Maybe he has been experiencing hormonal mood swings... Merlin, men are so temperamental; perky nuisances in the morning and grouchy mysteries by evening!

The day started off rather normally, in case you were wondering (which of course you were, my morning rituals are so fascinating). I slouched out of bed at seven after Perfidy woke me up by attempting to stuff me into her pillow case, found James waiting for me in the Common Room (cheerfully, I will add) and accompanied by Rich and Peter we made our way to breakfast. On our journey down to the Great Hall we came to discuss the tragic extinction of the Do-do bird (Peter was of the completely nonsensical opinion that they were not actually extinct and that the whole affair was just a government secret). It was only as we approached the Great Hall, Rich demanding to know why on Earth any government would ever waste their time keeping the existence of the Do-do bird a secret, that things began to get strange. By strange, I mean that the four of us almost ran right into Remus, who was accompanied by none other than Kathy McKinnon.

Hypothetical reader, I may be horrendous at many things, such as revenge, lying to myself and maintaining calm, but here is one thing that I had previously been very good at: avoiding the sticky subject that was my recent break-up with Terry. However, with Kathy McKinnon standing right in front of me, so distracted by whatever Remus was telling her that she almost ran straight into Peter, it became slightly harder to avoid remembering.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she began apologizing to Peter. She gave him a strange sort of pat on the arm as she continued apologizing, saying, "I didn't see-" but what she saw never became clear to us because she stopped speaking as she looked at Peter's companions, or, to be more precise, me.

Everyone had stopped moving and speaking. We all stood there facing each other like some sort of American old west show-down, except that there were no clumps of hay rolling past us and the only person who looked like he was ready to attack someone was James as he glared at Remus. And me... well, I did my best to look at anything but the girl in front of me. You could say it was a pretty tense environment.

In two seconds that tension-filled atmosphere was gone as Kathy McKinnon blurted out, "Hi!" as she stared at me with her big blue eyes.

She is an odd one. Didn't she know she was supposed to be avoiding me? Didn't she know that the protocol for when either of us saw each other was to scuttle away in the other direction? She kept on blabbering at me as we all stood there flummoxed.

"...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...to... well, not that I purposefully didn't mean to, I just...thought that... I...oh, I, um... Remus! Bye! It was nice catching up with you!" and with that she dashed off. Perhaps she was in fact savvy of the protocol.

"Bye," Remus muttered limply, breaking the silence.

Rich was second. "Well, that was incredibly special." He began nudging me violently into the dining hall, presumably to get me in there before Kathy McKinnon could come back and mumble at me some more. "Come on Lily, let's go eat."

"Say," said Peter as he jogged up beside us, "wasn't that Kathy McKinnon?"

"No, that was the Queen of Aggraba," Rich answered snidely, still holding on to my arm. "Come on Lily."

I wrenched my arm away angrily saying, "I can walk myself in, thanks!" as Peter grumbled, "Well, there wasn't any need to be rude."

As we moved toward the Gryffindor table I noticed James and Remus weren't with us. I looked back to see that they had stayed behind. They were standing outside of the Great Hall in what appeared to be an argument. How fantastic! Now they were going to cause a scene, and over me at that... at least I assumed I was the subject of the argument. There was a slight possibility they were actually arguing over something else, like perhaps the clashing colour of their ties... or not. A part of me wanted to march right up to James and say, "Leave it be! Remus can talk to whoever he wants; he could be best pals with Grindelwald and it still wouldn't be my business. He doesn't owe me anything!" but instead I just let myself be guided to a seat next to Maura and Sirius.

I wasn't feeling too good about myself as I sat there listening to Maura panic about her OWLs. Unpleasant questions kept churning through my head. Did Rich really think I needed to be babied like that? And did James really think he had to confront Remus for me? It wasn't any of my business who Remus chose to talk to! I had no business complaining to Remus about his apparent friendship with Kathy McKinnon and neither did James! Gosh, I'm not some hapless damsel in distress, I can take care of myself just fine in case they hadn't noticed.

No matter how much I focused on the obnoxious way my friends had treated me, I couldn't deny, bad as I was at lying to myself, what was really upsetting me. It was the same thing I felt whenever I was confronted with Kathy McKinnon or Terry...

"Lily?"

I almost broke my neck as I snapped it back to see who was disturbing me from my miserable thoughts. It was James. Of course. Something about his concern just made me snap.

"Lily, are you alright? You seem kind of-"

"Yes, James, I'm fine," I interrupted him fiercely with what I hope was a whisper. "I'm also an eighteen-year old woman,"

He looked at me in scared confusion. "Okay..."

"Do you want to know what that means?" I asked snidely. My, my, I'm really very aggressive when I'm angry. "It means I'm more than capable of dealing with my own breakup, thanks!"

"Lily, you know I didn't mean to-"

"And furthermore," I interrupted him again, "neither of us has any business lecturing Remus on the company that he keeps."

"Lily, I think you're overreacting just a little."

"No, James, you overreacted when you decided to take my problems into your own hands-"

"Oh, that's really funny. If this is such a concern of yours, how come I haven't heard you complain about it before!"

In the uncomfortable silence that followed I became aware of the fact that Maura was no longer talking about her OWLs. The lot of them were now staring at us with some amusement. That's just what I needed: an audience for my dramatic meltdown. I snatched my book bag off the floor and flounced away, ignoring Sirius as he called after me in a futile attempt to keep the show going, "Wait, you haven't finished your porridge!"

I was a gazillion minutes early to Potions. I just stood outside the classroom, leaning against the Dungeon walls, breathing in the putrid scent of frog spleen, feeling sorry for myself and more than a little stupid. Even through my frustration, I knew James had been right... again. He'd been trying to help me out, in his own protective way, for quite some time and, no, I had never complained. Why did I have such a temper? Despite how unnecessary their help was, my friends only had good intentions. And, I guess, they must be getting the idea that I need assistance from something...

Once again, James interrupted my train of thought. I heard his footsteps coming toward me slowly. I didn't look up, but I didn't have to. He just came over and leant against the wall beside me. I glanced at him. He wrinkled his nose (I'm guessing it was because of the smell of frog spleen). He looked at my toes, he looked at his toes. Then he spoke.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Me too."

And that was it. Nothing else had to be said, nothing explained. Not between us, at least.

"I think we've learned something very important today," he was smirking as he told me.

I turned towards him, smiling. I could see some other students beginning to come into the hallway. "Are you going to give me a moral lesson?"

"Me? No. Come on, be serious. But we have learned something."

"That Remus might be secretly engaged to Kathy McKinnon?"

"Lily! Don't say such things!"

"James, take a joke! And just spit it out, what have we learned?"

"Well, that our relationship really hasn't changed all that much."

"Okay... why is that?"

"Because... you still know how to get royally pissed at me."

"Oh! Well, I hope you know that I can spin that both ways. You still know how to royally piss me off."

"Lily, that was clever, I think I'm rubbing off on you!"

"You know, I think you're right, I have been noticing a really bad odour that was definitely not there before..."

We continued bantering this way until class time started. James could be so easy to be around. It scared me how good he made me feel. After admitting to Rich and Sophie that unmentionable thing (you know... thatIthinkImightpossiblyfancyJames) I expected I would be hyperaware around him. I'm not though. I feel perfectly natural... well, except for the times when Rich or Sophie look over at us like we're the cutest thing since baby socks. Then, I don't feel so normal.

Neither Rich nor Sophie had Potions with us, however. This time it was someone else who was looking over at me and making me feel uncomfortable. Remus and I could definitely not communicate telepathically. I had no idea what he was trying to convey to me with his looks. Was he trying to apologize..? Was he saying 'stay out of my business'? Was he actually secretly engaged to Kathy McKinnon?! Oh, the drama!

Well, anyway, I didn't find out until much later that day. James and I managed to make it through Potions without blowing anything up (which would normally be an effortless feat for me, however James is horribly distracting and I find myself forgetting ingredients... oh Godric, he's a bad influence). For the rest of the day I didn't see either Terry or Kathy McKinnon again, and Rich even apologized to me during dinner!

"No, no it's fine," I waved it off, accidentally flinging a steaming potato at a third-year. Gosh, she didn't have to jump like that, it was an accident. My pie-throwing days are long gone. "To be honest, I overreacted about it."

Rich snorted. "Well, of course you did, you're Lily Evans. I'm just letting you know, I understand you don't need to be guided around like that. I'm sorry."

"What'd he do this time?"

Sophie plopped herself down between us, grabbing a dinner roll off of Rich's plate, at which he made a face and pushed it away. "I resent that, Sophie."

"I resent your face."

"Wow, that's great. Twenty points for maturity to Hufflepuff."

I wasn't listening to them anymore though. I was thinking about what Sophie said. 'What'd he do this time'. Was this going to become a regular occurrence? Was I always going to end up feeling that way around Terry and Kathy McKinnon? Was I ever going to feel normal again?

Even as I thought it, I knew the answer. Yes, I would always feel this way... unless I summoned the Gryffindor courage to get up and have one of those tough talks. I had just made a decision, and it was a now or never kind of thing. I knew it would be all too easy to tell myself, 'I'll do it tomorrow' and never get around to it. I stood up abruptly. The third-year girl at whom I'd accidentally flung a potato jumped back so far she fell off the bench. "I've got to go deal with something," I announced, leaving Sophie and Rich watching after me perplexed.

I marched out of the Great Hall feeling edgy but confident. I was finally taking action. I was finally going to march straight up to-

"Lily!"

"Argh, what now?"

Remus stopped in his tracks, looking alarmed. He raised his hands innocently. I noticed maybe for the first time how many scars he had. As many lines as I had on my hands, he had scars. "I just wanted to clear something up with you... about earlier."

I tore my eyes away from his hands and looked at his questioning face. There were scars there too, and the soft, thin shadows of scars that had healed. When I'd asked James about it before, he said Remus was just clumsy. "You don't have to," I told him. "I'm sorry if James said anything to you about it. It's not my business. You don't owe me any explanation."

He nodded this all away, signalling for me to follow him to a spot just outside of the small crowd filing into the dining hall. "Yeah, I know that. But I want to explain it to you."

Alright then, I guess my quest could wait. I followed him and waited curiously for his explanation.

"It's really simple, actually," he began with a laugh. "It's going to seem ridiculous now, all this fuss. You see, I dated one of Kathy's best friends, Lorrain Bell."

"Oh..." was all I dumbly managed to say. So I guess he hadn't run off and eloped with McKinnon...

"It didn't last too long," Remus continued, "but Kathy and I became friendly. And we just catch up every now and then. She's a really nice girl."

That was a strange concept to wrap my head around; 'Kathy' being nice, or mean or anything. So I just nodded my head and waited to see if he would say anything else.

He seemed to be doing the same thing for a while. He watched me, wrinkles on his forehead, as if I was just about to say something. When I let the heavy silence linger, he spoke up, "I think you'd actually like her if you knew her. She doesn't make friends easily since she's so shy, but she's nice, she's-"

"Remus," I couldn't help but interrupt him. As much as I loved hearing about how great my ex-boyfriend's new catch was, I had somewhere to be. "Is there any particular reason you're telling me all this?"

"Yeah." He laughed a little as he looked over my head at the moving staircases. "I know it's probably not pleasant to hear," he said looking back at me with surprising sincerity. "But I just don't want you to do yourself the disservice of assigning blame to the wrong person."

I stared at him. Wow. He really had a brain on him. He smiled at me an unexpectedly delicate smile. What a mysterious boy.

"Hey, Remus," I said, "you know I think this is the longest conversation we've ever had?"

He laughed. "Sadly, I think you're right. But you know, I'm glad James finally stopped acting like a love-sick puppy. I don't think we would have ever really known you otherwise."

I didn't tell him that a part of me wished James was still acting like that rabid love-sick dog, I just smiled about this new feeling of companionship. "Listen, I'm sorry if he gave you a hard time about it."

Remus shrugged it off. "He has his reasons. But anyway, you were in a huge hurry when I found you. I'll let you get back to it then."

Hmm. Cryptic. But yes; I did need to be getting on. If I didn't follow through with this now, I might never again. "You're right. I do have somewhere to be."

"Okay. Lily, I enjoyed having our longest conversation yet."

"Remus," I said with a smile. "You've got a way with words."

"Well," he said shrugging, "someone had to learn to negotiate our way out of the sticky situations James and Sirius got us into."

"My, what a heavy burden you carry."

"Thanks so much for the sympathy." He smiled at me again, saluted me and said, "I'll see you soon."

"See you," I said, saluting as well. Then Remus went off with the throng into the dining hall and I finally turned back around. Up a flight of stairs, up another, and another. All the while my heart was racing and I was trying so hard not to rehearse what I was going to say that I almost ran into four different students. Oh, I hate the tough conversations! Give me a duel to fight any day over a tough conversation.

I got to the Library too soon for me to handle. I just stood outside it, breathing deeply. I must have looked strange standing there, but hey, it's almost NEWT time, I think the seventh-years are expected to lose their minds a little. I just needed to prepare myself... no! I couldn't prepare myself! If I tried to prepare myself then I would over-think it and second-doubt myself and then I'd be running away, condemning myself to a life-time of open wounds. This was it. Now, not never. Take a deep breath, Lily...

I found him just where I expected I would. At a table in the back, where James and I had spied on him with Kathy McKinnon what seemed like years ago. He didn't hear me coming over. He had his face almost in the book he was reading. His gold hair fell sloppily over his face. He was ticking his quill against the table in a persistent nervous motion. I just stood there hoping he would look up and initiate the conversation, so I could delay speaking for as long as possible. He didn't. Merlin, things never go as I plan. Well... I'd come this far...

"Terry?" I whispered?

He lifted his head as though he was just waking up. He stared at me vacantly for a good while before recognition set in. He sat up quickly and sort of flailed his arms around, knocking over the book he'd been reading and sending his notes adrift.

"Oh God! Oh damn, I'm making such a mess, I..." he muttered as he rushed to pick everything up. A page of his notes landed on my shoes so I knelt down to pick it up. It smelt strongly of ink, he'd spilt a great deal on one of the corners. I could tell his handwriting was just as messy as ever from my quick glance. I put the paper on top of the book he'd recovered and slowly sat down across from him.

He breathed in deeply. "So... you found me here..."

I got a good look at his face for the first time. He had a smudge of ink on his cheek and his eyes looked so tired he could barely keep them open. "Yeah. I know where to find a Ravenclaw during NEWT season."

Terry smiled weakly. "I practically live here." He didn't really look at me. Just glanced up then back down, as if there was a weight keeping them focused on the table. He was certainly not making this easy...

"Terry... um... I don't know where to start. I haven't talked to you in so long I've almost forgotten how..." I muttered.

He was flinching with my every word, and I hadn't even said anything yet. God, he was so pitiful to look at! My heart softened despite my will.

"I wanted to apologize about the way I dealt with us... or, you know, how I didn't deal with it."

He looked up at me guiltily. "You have nothing to apologize about."

"Yes, I do," even as I said it, I knew I wasn't just trying to make him feel better. I really meant it. "I owed you that. I owed you the truth of...of how I was feeling; of how you'd made me feel."

"Well, then, let's not even talk about the things I owed you that I didn't give you."

"Yeah... that's true. You... you really let me down," I found myself saying.

Terry shook his head dismally. "I'm so sorry-"

"No," I interrupted him. Oh, this was what I hated about these conversations; I could feel a storm of emotion about to burst out. "It's no use, you being sorry now. You lied to me... not about where you were, or who you were with, but just by still being with me, you were lying." I could feel my voice rising and my face getting warmer and I hated it all but I couldn't stop. "You were saying, 'Lily, I care about you and I want to be with you' and with that you were promising me all this stuff, which included honesty and respect. But you didn't respect me enough to be honest with me."

I paused to breathe a while. He was watching me with a look that wasn't just pity, wasn't just guilt. It was almost unbearable, sitting here across from him, recounting all the ways he'd hurt me. But I had to finish now. Now, or never.

"I cared about you, Terry," I whispered slowly, watching him flinch, feeling my throat constricting, "and you thought I was just a girl."

And there it was. The thing that was really upsetting me. Not just that he'd said that, I hope I will never be that vain. It was that one person could mean so much to you, yet to them you were just a girl, you were like anybody else, you were exchangeable; that was what upset me. That's what made me run away from Terry, from Kathy McKinnon. That's what made me look in the mirror some days and see so much less than I had seen before.

My eyes were beginning to sting. Terry had moved his chair over next to mine and had placed a hand tentatively on my shoulder. I turned my face away from him. I was not going to allow myself to cry... and if I did, I would not let him see.

"Lily, you are not just a girl," he said in a firm whisper. "You are the smartest girl I've met. You're fun and you're never boring. You always believe in things with all that you've got."

Thank Godric and all the other founders I didn't cry! I held it in. I listened to the things Terry was saying, still staring the other way at a meeting of the Gobstones club. I think he was smiling as he spoke, at least I imagined him smiling.

"You're always true with yourself and everyone. If you don't like someone, you would never pretend otherwise. I loved listening to you tell a story - you would get so into it. Lily, you're hilarious, but you don't know it. And absolutely beautiful, too."

I couldn't help it, I blushed. I looked back at him slowly. He looked so familiar. Despite the exhaustion, I was looking at the same blue eyes, the same smile. I was looking at the face of someone that, with time, I could learn to be friends with.

"Lily, I am sorry that I ever said that," he said. "I never meant it. You are not just any girl. I promise, I really did like you. I think you're fantastic. To be honest I was just waiting for the day you found somebody more worth your time."

I pushed him lightly in the shoulder. "Stop boosting my ego, Caldwell. I don't need it that much."

He laughed, leaning in toward me conspiratorially. "I mean every word."

I smiled and reached over to wipe the ink stain off of his face. I knew it then; we would be friends, like we were supposed to be. "I'm glad I finally spoke to you again."

Terry nodded. "I'm glad we did too. You look good, Lily. You look really happy."

"Yeah, I am. And now I also feel... I don't know... at peace with myself." Wait... did that sound cheesy? "Does that sound cheesy?"

He laughed kind of loudly. Someone shushed him angrily. He raised his eyebrows and chuckled more quietly. "No, I know what you mean... I'm getting that a little too. Don't think I'm quite there yet though."

His smile weakened and I was reminded of how worn he looked. Something had definitely changed since we were together. I had a feeling I knew what.

"So... what about Kathy?"

Terry looked taken-aback by my mention of her for a moment, as if her name was taboo between us. But I just kept looking at him patiently. He glanced down and grabbed at one of his note papers, now smudging his fingers with ink. "She hasn't spoken to me since the day you saw us here."

"Oh... I'm sorry."

He shrugged, saying in a would-be nonchalant voice, "Nah, it's my fault too. See, she started getting bothered that I wasn't being fair to you around the time of the food-fight, so after a while I kind of told her I'd talked to you about it."

"Oh, Terry..."

"Yeah, I know. I was really asking for it. When she saw how hurt you were, she just left. She didn't say a word, just grabbed her stuff and walked out. Barely even looks at me anymore. And don't worry, I know that I deserve that."

It was still strange hearing all of this; about the other side of the story, about this other girl... but it was alright. We had paid our last respects to the remains of our relationship. Now all that was left was just two people with their separate sorrows.

"You really screwed things all up," I told him, pushing the inky paper away from him before he could smear ink all over someone else.

"I did. I really did. For you, for me, for her... I couldn't do right by anyone. But, I just couldn't help it. Not the lying, that I should have done differently. I mean with her, I just couldn't help it." He looked at me as if he could convey with the hopelessness in his eyes some secret that was necessary for me to understand. "I liked you a lot, Lily, and I thought I was lucky to be with you. I don't know why it happened with Kathy. I don't even know how to explain it. There are all these little things that she does... things that everybody does, like turning the page of a book. Lily, I think I could watch her read for hours! And... I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I don't know what to do without her."

I could not understand. I had never felt anything so momentous. No one had ever made such an impact in my life. No one had so much as influenced me to change myself... wait. That wasn't true. I thought of James. He had changed me. He really had. I revaluated things I thought I'd known when I was around him. People I thought I knew. I got detentions, I planned revenge, I even went skinny-dipping! Those were all things I would never have done if it weren't for James Potter...

"It sounds dramatic, right?" Terry asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I shook my head. "No," I told him honestly, "it sounds like you're in love."

He just sighed. I guess that was not news to him. "Yeah," was all he said.

I'd never even known anyone that was in love before. Terry seemed like some other kind of species to me. Did love always make people look that sickly? It was a little frightening, I'm not going to lie. We talked for a while longer, and when I had to leave to come to this detention I made him promise me he would get more sleep. Poor Terry. It looks like love has a directly opposite effect on a person's well-being.

So, I guess I'm not in love with James. Not the way Terry loves Kathy. But I won't deny it anymore: I like him. In fact, I like that boy too freaking much for my own health.

But now he hates me! Remember how he was acting oddly irritated during this detention? Well, he's still at it. Acting as if I'm part of the decor of the room, and when he forgets to ignore me, gracing me with a delightful glare. Lovely. And now he's looking at the clock... packing... walking past me... in his business to turn and glare at me one last time, he is tripping on his own feet...and dashing right out of the door. And dear possible reader, he dropped his quill.

I have to speak with him. What am I supposed to do with my days if James Potter won't be my friend?

Farewell!

Lily Evans, Future Diplomat

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CHAPTER 15 Forty-fourth detention....

Alright, wow, so... today is Friday, April 16th and I don't know where to begin. I am so overwhelmed! My fragile nerves can't handle this kind of tension and drama! Sweet Merlin, help me!

You may be wondering, hypothetical reader, why I'm in such exquisite anguish. Well, let me start where I left off in yesterday's journal entry. If you recall, I was chasing after a mysteriously infuriated James...

Damn, he could walk fast. I couldn't even see him anymore as I got out of McGonagall's office. But lucky for me, I was now privy to numerous secret passageways around the castle thanks to - drum roll please - James Potter, yes, the same long-legged bloke that was trying to get away from me using the aforementioned secret passageways. The world is a wonder of irony.

I caught up to him soon enough, likely because he didn't expect me to have followed him. "James! Hey, James, wait!" I called after him.

I heard him make a sound similar to the one Petunia makes when she sees a cockroach, which did wonders for my ego, by the way, but otherwise he showed no signs of having heard me. What was wrong with him?

"James!" I said more loudly.

He threw his hands up in exasperation, making squeaking sounds with his shoes as he turned to face me. "What, Lily?"

I inspected his face carefully as I walked up to him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm great," he growled.

"Well... you don't sound great..."

"Am I required to sound great all the time?" he asked, returning to his extremely determined stride away from me.

"No, that's why I was asking you-"

"So give me some bloody space!"He didn't even turn to look at me as he shouted this, just kept trudging on as if it were his absolute purpose in life.

“James, I don’t understand you. Why are you being so huffy?” I demanded.

“Huffy? God, Lily! I’m not being goddamn huffy!” he huffed, soundly proving my point.

“See!” I exclaimed, “That’s what I mean. What’s with your sudden huffing tone?” We were now running up a flight of stairs. That is to say, I was running up a flight of stairs trying to keep up with him as he walked up a flight of stairs. So… many… stairs! A lack of physical prowess might yet prove to be my downfall.

In response, he began to grumble. Oh, well, really James, you’ve plowed me over with your drastic attitude alteration.

“James, the last time you acted like this toward me, you were calling me a stuck-up meathead! Have we really gone back to that?”

“Oh, yes, I remember. That was right after you called me an ignorant prat which by the way was extremely original of you, Lily, I'll award you a gold star,” he retorted.

I paused for one indignant moment as we reached the top of the stairs. “Oh! That’s how it is? Look, James, I asked you what was up and I am really trying not to lose my temper here, but you’re making it impossibly difficult.”

“Well, I’m so very sorry to inconvenience you with my asinine problems, Lily,” he finished, enunciating my name with an incredibly unpleasant snarl which made me cringe against my will.

“But you won’t even tell me what the problem is!” I tried to plead once more. He is so very… unbelievable! He can make me ache and hate him all at once. I wanted to both apologize for my mysterious offense and to impale him onto a very pointy shish-kabob.

“THERE’S NO PROBLEM, LILY!” he absolutely roared, finally stopping and turning toward me. Clearly, James Potter is problem-less. “My only problem right now is that you won’t quit nagging me!”

I stood still, breathing deeply and seething. It’s a good thing no one popped by asking me to hold any motion sensitive bombs; I would have blown us all to Timbuktu. “Nagging? I’m nagging you? Alright then, fine. Just fine! You can go off and study for NEWT’s on your own, Mr. Etiquette. Who’s keeping you? Go wherever the hell you want! I’m going back to the library, hopefully people there won’t be as insensitive and gormless as-”

“Go then!” he bellowed at me. Some hapless second-years that had been turning onto our hall scampered away at the sound, as if someone had just threatened to pour fire ants down their pants. “Go back to the library to study with your precious boyfriend. Quit nagging me and leave!”

He stood there, electrically red, glaring daggers at me as I spluttered in utter disbelief. “What?”

“I’m sorry, weren’t you leaving?”

“James, you’re out of your mind if you think that I’m-”

"No, I’m not the one that’s out of his mind.” He took several angry steps towards me. I wouldn’t have been surprised if sparks had been firing off in the space between us. “I saw you over there talking to Terry for all of ten seconds and that was enough. I saw you smiling at him, just the way you used to. So…” he searched for an adjective, looking so disgusted there might have been a rotting corpse in the hall. “So freaking naïve. And after all that… After everything I did to show you what he was like. I can’t believe you!”

I am positive that in all of my experience hating his guts I had never been as infuriated with him as I was at that moment.

"Oh my God! You're an absolute idiot, James Potter. How dare you say that? You don't know anything! Arggh, you stupid bespectacled chimp!" I yelled this completely rational insult and began storming away.

I was imagining James' face on the ground as I stomped away, trying my hardest to inflict pain on the very Earth. I was so furious I didn't even know where I was going. All I could think of was his stupid face, and his stupid accusations, and his stupid sneer, and-

"Your stupid spectacles!" I turned and yelled at him, continuing my trend of extremely sensible insults.

"Excuse me?" he drawled from where he stood a short distance away.

"You're jealous!" I shouted at him. How I managed to arrive upon this far more lucid thought is beyond me; there's a very large possibility that I hadn't actually rationalized my way to it, I just wanted to continue yelling at him. "You stupendous jealous idiot! Do you want to know what Terry and I were actually talking about while you were lurking behind some bookcase spying on us, or do you want to continue throwing all of your own half-baked assumptions at me?" I had stayed where I was as I yelled, watching his angry (albeit silent) face. "We were finally having our talk, the one I've been avoiding for more than a month, the one about the end of our relationship. We were talking about Kathy McKinnon and how Terry is completely lost in love with her, not me. And while we were talking I was realizing how much I like you, not Terry. How could I possibly like anyone else if I fancy you this much! But instead of letting me explain this to you myself, like a normal, respectful human being would do, you go off on a jealous rant! Well then, fine. I won't tell you, and I will go back to the library."

Dear potential reader, if you are wondering whether I realized that I had just made a pretty momentous declaration, I will tell you... no. I did not. I turned on my heels, not noticing his utterly shocked face, and stormed my way toward the library.

Goodness, was he infuriating! So annoying, and unreasonable, and scathing, not to mention stupid and -

"No, Lily, wait!"

-and damn it, he was running after me.

"Lily, I'm sorry, wait, stop running, please? Please wait? I'm sorry!"

"I'm glad that you're sorry," I shouted after him as I continued my march away from him (which had, in all honesty, turned into more of a brisk jog), "but I don't want to talk to you about it just now!"

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm such an idiot. But if you would just wait, then I could-" And suddenly he was beside me, grabbing hold of my arm.

I yelped like a puppy and tried to pull away, but he was much too strong for me. Of course.

In one swift movement, before I could yelp enough for an entire litter of puppies, he had placed his hands firmly on my shoulders and had successfully steered me away from my intended path, and instead, toward the wall to my right. I was trapped, so I looked at his face and it was so intent. His hazel eyes were boring into mine, I could distinctly hear his breathing and my flustered heart skipped a beat - and then another.

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

It took me a while to form the words on my lips. the longer I stared at his eyes, the more my anger fizzled. "Okay... but I don't want to talk about it just-"

"I'm sorry," he repeated, annihilating my protests, "I'm sorry that I shouted at you, that I accused you of anything." He let his hands fall from my shoulders and he took a step away from me. I stayed exactly where he had left me, with my back to the wall. "I should have just asked you first. You're completely right; I am a stupid bespectacled chimp," his lips twitched into a smile as he said this. We just stood there for a while, him waiting for some sort of reaction from me, I'm guessing, and me staring at his lips - I mean...um, his very serious face... Gosh, I really needed to see a doctor about these crazy heart palpitations!

"You were right about something else," he continued when I said nothing. He glanced down at the floor, ran a hand nervously through his hair and I caught a whiff of his scent as he did this; freshness and wood splinters. "I was. Erm, I was jealous, I mean. I've actually never been that jealous."

He was jealous... he actually was jealous? Alright... my mind was having a very slow time of taking it all in. My breathing was funny and my heart was frenetic and my mind was mush. "But... we weren't even doing anything... we were just talking."

"Yeah, I know. But it was the way you were talking. You were sitting really close, and it seemed really intimate. You even touched his face," he explained, looking glum even as he relived the memory.

"Yes," I interrupted, wanting to defend myself, "but I wasn't-"

"I know," James interrupted me right back, glancing down at my feet before he looked into my eyes. In one crazy moment, I had thought I could feel my toes smoldering. "But I just saw you, and I jumped to conclusions, and, I don't know, I couldn't help it. For the first time I felt like I was going to be losing something if you were dating someone else. I'm aware that I acted ridiculously back in fifth year when I started asking you out." He chuckled darkly a little at the memory. "I was so full of myself that I really thought you were just playing hard to get. But believe me, after I realized you were serious, I knew I didn't have a chance. Not unless you underwent some sort of brain surgery or you drastically changed your mind about me. Lately, since we've become friends I've been hoping - daydreaming, even - that I might have a shot. I've been trying to figure out what to do about you for a long time now. And then I saw you in the library with Terry, you were having a grand old time and all... I panicked."

Absurdly, my most prominent thought after he finished speaking was that he had said 'a grand old time'. That's something my great-aunt Polly used to say about the Bingo. The next thought was a dizzy question. "Why?"

James looked at me, nervous, but amused. "Why did I panic? Come on, Lily, you know this. I'm crazy about you."

...So I guess he hadn't been asserting our platonic relationship... he had outright told me 'he was crazy about me'. Good. Now my brain could process it. My reaction was to grin like a shameless fool. I absolutely could not help it. "I don't fancy Terry," I said.

My happiness hadn't quite gotten to him yet. He took a step toward me, looked at me seriously and said, "You don't fancy Terry anymore?"

My poor little heart going berserk, I took a step toward him as well and shook my head. "Not at all."

He finally smiled at me and it made me want to smile even wider, which was not actually a possible thing. He came closer to me and took one of my hands in his. He touched my wrist and my fingers gently, as if making sure they were real. With his other hand he reached toward my face and I closed my eyes. I felt him slowly trace my jaw line with a finger, then he let his hand slide down my neck and all of my nerves were on fire. It came to rest just above my heart. A finger was grazing my bra strap, but both of his eyes were staring straight into mine as I opened them again.

I'm not exactly sure how long we were watching each other, moving slowly closer; my logical functions had pretty much abandoned me at the time. All day today, whenever I found myself reliving the moment, which admittedly happened at a frequency on par with remembering to breathe, I recalled a shyness and a tenderness that I almost couldn't stand. When he finally kissed me, there were no fireworks going off, just the silent rhythm of his heart against mine and a breathtaking warmth spreading throughout my entire body.

He pulled away too soon and looked at me questioningly. Apparently I still hadn't given him enough assurance of my consent. I pulled my hand out of his, at which he frowned, but before he could panic again (eccentric boy that he is) I had sort of flung my arms around his neck. Thus began the longest, best, most absurd snogging session I've ever had. James had lifted me off the ground, I had wrapped my legs around his hips, our hands were in each other's hair, his glasses went flying God-knows-where. It was, how shall I put this... gloriously thrilling. We carried on this way for a good half hour before we were unceremoniously interrupted by an outraged Professor Flitwick, who was initially under the impression that we were attacking each other, and once made aware that this was not exactly the case, became so flustered that, as he bid us goodnight with a warning, he called us 'Ms. Pevans and Mr. Otter'.

So, hypothetically bewildered reader, that is the story of how I snogged James Potter. James Potter, the same bloke I swore I would hate for all eternity, the same bloke into who's hair I smeared pie not three months ago, the same bloke that just turned around to look at me now and is making me feel helplessly dizzy.

How am I supposed to think about anything else? I've been breathless all day, waiting for the moments when we exchange a secret glance, or the times when our hands meet under the table. I'm sure Sophie and Rich have noticed a change. Oh goodness, what do I tell them? What did James tell his friends? I'm quite positive Professor Flitwick hasn't told McGonagall yet because she hasn't come up to us offering her congratulations or proposed she be the Maid of Honor at our impending nuptials.

What should I do? I know exactly what I want to do and that is snog James senseless right after this detention is over. Thank Merlin it's 8:29! Goodbye, dear reader! I've got places to be.

Sincerely, Lily Pevans