Dear Conscience,
Yes, I’m writing to you. I needed SOMEONE to talk to. If the only sane person is my conscience, so be it. You’ve made me feel damn guilty sometimes, just like you’re doing now. Well, I’m writing to tell you that you can stop it. I know I’m guilty. Perfectly aware. But, of course, you should have stopped me sooner. I mean, really it’s all your fault. And I refuse to listen to the fact that in blaming you, I am technically blaming myself. REFUSE.
I mean, I love Kerenza. She’s my best “ and worst “ friend. She picks me up when I’m down, and is equally capable of pulling me down when I’m up. But hey. That’s how our weird and wonderful friendship works. But, because neither of us are what you might call “balanced” people, we have a tendency to row. You play a good part in making me feel bad about it afterwards, but we still row. And when we row, Gryffindor “ scratch that, the whole school “ is aware of it. There’s a coldness in the air, a constant tension that any second now someone’s going to stab something. Or someone. You know “ that kind of tension. And then there’s always James Potter with his big old spoon, stirring and cackling, stirring and cackling, like a crazy, stereotyped witch. Except, y’know, he’s a guy. You know what? Don’t even get me started on James Potter and his spoon.
So. You know what happened, and I know how you feel about it. Your punishment for not stopping me sooner is having to relive the whole sorry tale again.
That’ll teach you.
Okay, so it had been a normal day, all round. There I was, casually going about my business, doing Kerenza’s Charms homework, while she did my Transfiguration “ a casual arrangement that means we both get good grades when really, we should be a little lower. But still, though you sometimes give me a nudge that I should be doing it myself, I rarely listen, so it doesn’t matter. And then what happens?
“Hey, Lily. You’d stick by me through anything, wouldn’t you?”
“I guess.”
“You know how you lent me that lipstick that time, because I had that date with Frank?”
“Yeah,” I said, remembering how disastrous THAT was. But at least she had good lips. Needless to say, it was their one and only date, and I think he is now with Alice, and much happier “ he’s not reduced to tears quite so often as when he and Kerenza had a brief fling.
“Well, the thing is, I forgot that it was yours, and I sent it to my sister for a birthday present.”
Seriously. I mean, what kind of sister even sends an ALREADY USED lipstick for a BIRTHDAY present? Especially one that wasn’t even hers to give!
When I pointed this out, she shrugged and said, “It looked expensive, and I had forgot it was her birthday, so I sent it in a panic. I’m sorry Lily.”
“You know why it looked expensive? It was a gift from my mother last Christmas!” I cried, and she looked guilty.
“I’m sorry, Lily. But it’s only a “”
“I know that! That’s not the point! Don’t you think your sister is going to REALISE that it’s been used?”
She shrugged, “It’s not like we get on very well anyway. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t send YOUR sister a used lipstick if you forgot it was her birthday, because you clearly would.”
And this is the kind of thing about Kerenza I don’t like. You know, the whole ‘best and worst friend’ thing. So I said, “You know what?” and tore her Charms in half, and threw it on the fire. Then I left.
And you didn’t stop me. Why didn’t you stop me? You should have stopped me. We’ve been walking round with clouds of hate for two days now, and the whole school knows about it.
Sincerely,
Lily
Dear Conscience,
It seems my last letter was fruitless. You are still nagging at me to make up with Kerenza. But, really, how could she? It’s the principle of the thing! You just don’t do that!
Okay, maybe it’s not her fault. Maybe she was brought up in the kind of environment where that sort of thing is acceptable. I don’t know. Maybe it’s not her fault she’s a two faced, greasy, mean-ass, she-man.
Shut up, I can say what I like! I can ignore all those years of treasured friendship if I really want! Those six, long, wonderful, happy years. I can pretend they didn’t happen and sulk if that’s what I want! And there’s nothing you can do about it!
Stop that. I won’t listen to your whining about me being childish and selfish and pathetic. It’s not true.
Okay, it’s true. But I don’t care.
James Potter is stirring again, like the big stirrer that he is, with his stupid spoon. Spreading rumours, and turning us against each other even more. Jumping into his sports commentator act when we publicly display our enmity. Chanting “Cat fight!” at every opportunity. Making us madder by being annoying so that we take it out on each other even more. Openly mocking our lame insults, and deeming them “Nowhere near Me-Worthy”. Why is he the only one in the whole school who isn’t deathly afraid when me and Kerenza are at war? Every one else ducks and hides to dodge the various implements being thrown carelessly at their heads. But him? Oh no. It’s all “stir this” and “stir that”, damn him.
I wish he would boil in a pot of tomato soup “ no, spaghetti soup. I wish he would suffocate because he was being sat on by Snape. I wish he had thousands of mice nibbling at his ears “ scratch that, it would just turn him on, the dirty man-beast.
Ah, keeping quiet now, are we? So it’s okay for me to write abuse about Potter, but not Kerenza? What does that tell me, eh?
Oh, wait. It tells me that Kerenza is my friend and doesn’t deserve my abuse. Whereas Potter is just your everyday pillock.
I was just musing over all this just now, sitting in the Common Room when I should be doing homework, when the very same James Potter came up to me, and said, “Hey Evans, what are you writing? A last will and testament? Did you know that we have a bet going? It’s about who would murder who in a duel to the death. I reckon Kerenza would melt your brain with inventive curses, but Remus is sure you’d win. Why is that, I wonder? Well, don’t forget to leave me all your worldly goods!”
I rose to the bait “ you should have stopped me “ and it wasn’t pretty.
“Actually, I’m just doing some homework,” I told him, at first.
“I’ve never seen that many facial expressions on one bit of homework, Evans. What’s this? 'Dear Conscience'? Blimey, you’re nuts, girl!”
And that’s when I began chasing him around the Common Room, screeching even more abuse at the top of my lungs, whereas he just laughed as he jogged ahead easily, knowing I’d never catch him.
I think McGonagall was walking past at the same time as my tirade of anger, and came into the Common Room to give us both detention.
Well done. Now my friendship is in ruins, and I have detention with Potter. What an utterly predictable twist of cruel fate.
You should have stopped me.
Sincerely,
Lily
Dear Conscience,
I’m back. You never went. Detention was awful, and I had several hissy fits at bloody Potter. I mean, I ask you. What kind of hootenanny goes around poking people incessantly in EXACTLY THE SAME SPOT ON THAT PERSON’S ARM? Do you know how annoying that is? And what’s a hootenanny, anyway?
It seems to fit him well, whatever it is.
Anyway, we were cleaning the trophy room (original, I know), and he, of course, was just leaving me to do everything, as he conversed with Peeves on the most effective alternate lyrics for “We Three Kings”. And it’s not even Christmas.
So. Eventually, I turned and hissed, “Are you going to help me polish these trophies so we can leave quickly, or not?”
“Actually, Evans, I was thinking not.” Then he turned to Peeves and said, “What are your thoughts on wearing odd socks as a stress reliever?”
And Peeves said, “Not stress relieving, but it’s a conversation opener.”
“Yes ... Yes, that’s what I was thinking.”
Why am I surrounded by all these delusional idiots? Anyone else, and Peeves would have tipped the polish on his head. But with James? Oh no. They were having something passable as a half intelligent discussion. On ODD SOCKS.
I really hate him sometimes. Okay, I hate him all the time. But sometimes, you know, I really do dislike him.
In the end, I beat him with my polish cloth until he begged for mercy (okay, he agreed to help by occasionally dusting a trophy now and then).
As if this total disrespect wasn’t enough to make me feel like chopping him into hundreds of tiny pieces and feeding them to some particularly feisty pelicans, as we were finishing up, he “accidentally” knocked over the bucket of water. The bucket of water that I was crouching next to, as I was finishing off the final trophy with a flourish.
I let rip, calling him all sorts of things, practically screaming the room down. Peeves was doubled over laughing, but I didn’t really care. It isn’t Peeves who delights in ruining my friendships, and turning me into a short-tempered screeching woman.
Once I had finished my long string of insults at the top of my voice, James put on this fake puppy dog look, and said in his most pathetic woe-is-me voice, “That was uncalled for, Evans.”
I let out one final, high pitched shriek, and left, slamming as many doors as I could on the way.
And now you’re making me feel guilty. I mean, what’s all that about? It was the woe-is-me act that did it. I have a sympathy complex, surprising as it sounds. When I go to the movies with my parents in the holidays, I end up feeling sorry for every single character at some point, even the villains. I mean, they spend time thinking up these devious plans, and for what? Them to be foiled again and again. And for them to be so evil in the first place probably means they had a dysfunctional childhood or something, and I feel even worse for them.
How can this sort of thing be normal? Everyone else just boos and hisses the villains, like normal people, but I sit there considering what it was that made them feel the need to hurt others. I should be a psychiatrist.
Anyway, to get to the point, stop making me feel guilty about yelling at Potter so much! His puppy dog act was FAKE. I know that, you know that, so stop niggling at me to apologise! He should apologise, damn it!
Sincerely,
Lily
Dear Conscience,
I haven’t heard from you in a while. This is either a good thing, or I’ve suddenly lost all of my morals and principles, and will end up being a horrible bitchy person who doesn’t wash. I hope it is a good thing, as the alternative doesn’t sound too appealing to be honest.
I made up with Kerenza, pretty much straight away after I’d written your last letter. We both sort of gingerly went up to each other, apologised to our feet, and then things were back to normal again.
Apparently, Kerenza wanted to know all about my detention with James, because apparently she heard him saying to Sirius something like, “It was so amazing ... she completely took me by surprise, and she was so fierce ... I think I’m reverting back to my old ways!”
I hope to Merlin’s beard, hat and eyebrows that he wasn’t referring to me, but someone else entirely. His old ways involved a lot of requests and rejections. From him and me.
Luckily it couldn’t have been me they were discussing. And I have concrete proof. I swear by all that is good, bad, and in between, this is the absolute truth. Obviously. Lying to your conscience is a one way ticket to madness. Although, that would give future psychiatrist me lots of work to do, so maybe that’s not entirely a bad thing.
So what is this concrete proof? I’ll tell you!
After Kerenza and I did our make-y up-y hug-y bit, James came over, way too solemn for it to not be a wind up.
“I just wanted to say that my recent behaviour has been unacceptable, and I see that now. I am sorry for any distress I may have caused to you, Lily. Or Kerenza,” he added, as an afterthought. She raised a knowing eyebrow, but I don’t know why, as I hadn’t any idea what was happening. “I hope you can accept my apology, even if you cannot forgive me at this point in time.”
And then he turned and walked away.
So, clearly, it wasn’t me he was discussing. Because there is no way James Potter could have done something so honest (and brave, considering my temper reputation) unless he and his equally suspicious partner in crime have something up their oh-so-superior sleeves. Nothing that has been made clear yet, but I am positive they are plotting something.
I’m just writing to tell you: You had better be ready to pull me back BEFORE I do something you will complain about later. Because what’s the point of sitting back and letting me beat someone up, or scream the house down, and THEN making me realise it was wrong?
Whatever is being plotted, I have no doubt I will act in a predictably over the top fashion, so you had better be on guard.
Sincerely,
Lily
AN: When one Marauder Era fic ends, so another begins ... this is the first of three mini-fics, that I’m grouping together into one small ficlet. They’re all based around Lily’s “Dear Conscience ...” letters, so the characters and the like will be the same, but the situations she finds herself in will be different. Just so you’re aware. Hope you enjoyed this, please review and let me know!