Disclamer: I am not J.K. Rowling. I don't own any of the characters or settings in this story. If it was good enough that you think it could have been by her, well then I have done my job.
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Seventh Year
"She hates me." James Potter groaned and slumped on top of his Charms homework.
"No, she doesn't," replied a slightly disgruntled Remus Lupin. He barely stoped scratching away at his essay to reply.
"She does hate me. She's not so subtly told me." He ran a hand through his already very messy black hair. Remus sighed, giving James one of his contemplative looks. Shaking his head, he sighed again.
"Prongs. Lily does not hate you. Look at the signs; she hangs around you, talks to you without hexing you, she laughs at your jokes. For Merlin's sake James, Lily has told me she doesn't hate you anymore. Now let me write." Remus glared at the tall black haired boy before turning back to his Charms essay. James looked deeply at his pale friend.
"You look pale Moony."
"Don't I always," muttered the annoyed boy.
"Why? Are you sleeping alright?" Remus glared at a grinning James.
"I am pale," growled Remus, "Because I can not write one bloody sentence without you talking to me. Stop. Talking." Remus aggressively slammed his quill in the ink well before starting to write.
"Language, Moony, language." James smirked his trademark smirk, the crooked one that made girls swoon. "All is well with the world. Lily Evans does not hate me."
"I do too hate you, you prat." James and Remus turned to see a red haired girl angrily glaring at them. "I still hate you, James. And Remus, you are a bloody traitor. I despise the both of you." Lily turned on her heel and flounced away, hair whooshing behind her.
"Great James. Look what you did. There goes all your hard work." Then, under his breath, "And mine." James simply grinned, leaning back in his chair.
"She called me James!"
