Damn hair. Damn you hair. What is wrong with you? Couldn't you at least be cooperative here? All I'm asking is for you to be calmer. I mean, what is with your craziness and… awesomely windswept excellence—I mean, frustrating unkempt quality?

Okay, so really I don't see anything wrong with you, hair. But something has to be wrong. Lily sees it. I just have to put myself in her position. What would she find wrong about you?

Err. Yeah, I can't find anything. I can't see anything wrong. What the hell?

Honestly, I think I can hear crickets in my head. What? Is my head that empty? Scoff. I didn't think so.

But those stupid crickets; they're so annoying. Shut up, little crickets, shut up! Oh Merlin. I'm telling the crickets in my head to shut up while trying to see myself through Lily's eyes. I have only two comments to myself. One, I am doing a horrible job of thinking like Lily, and two, I need to stop talking to imaginary crickets.

Seriously now, back to the serious situation at hand. Oh, wow. I wonder how many times I can use the word "serious" in a sentence. And I could throw Sirius' name a few times into the sentence. Ah, must remember to talk to Sirius about serious things in order to accomplish my serious mission of seriously using "serious" as many times as seriously possible.

Smirk. Hah, mission accomplished.

Oh, right, the situation. Okay, well obviously nothing's wrong with my hair. Lily just needs glasses. Yes, I'll recommend glasses to her next time I talk to her. Or yell with her. You never know what will come out of talking to Lily Evans.

If it isn't my hair, then what is so unattractive about me to Lily? It can't be my Quidditch playing. It makes me look very manly. It can't be my excellent Transfiguration scores. I'm a genius. Who doesn't love me for that?

Oh, wait! Hold on there! What is this? No. No, it couldn't possibly be…

A pimple?! Aw, crap. Maybe Lily hates me because of this pimple. It would explain a lot. I mean, wow. A pimple. How in all of eternity can I show my face in the common room, let alone the rest of Hogwarts, without humiliating the Potter name for eternity? I'm sorry Dad.

I need some strong advice. Advice that I can rely on. Advice that can never go wrong. Advice that I know with my heart will be one hundred percent insightful.

I need to talk to Sirius.

Now, where to find him? Where. To. Find. Sirius. Black. Hmm, no. He's not inside the restroom. Not inside the common room. What a crap load. How hard can it be to find a Sirius Black? I have to sit down and think. Here's Sirius' bed. He won't mind if I rest here for a few minutes. My bed is too far away. A few extra feet of walking may be hard on my precious joints.

"ARGHH! WHAT THE HELL? WHO TH—… Padfoot?"

Well, who would have known he'd be in his own bed? Way to be predictable, Padfoot.

He groans. "Prongs, why the bloody hell are you sitting on my stomach?" He rubs his eyes to see clearer.

"Erm." What? That's all James Potter can say? In my defense, this fool who 'sleeps in his own bed' just seriously scared me. I mean, really. Who does that nowadays? "I was looking for you," I add, pretty stupidly. Even I can admit to that.

He raises his eyebrow. What? What did I do now?

"You were looking for me?"

"Yes. Yes, I was," I reply.

"You were looking for me?"

"Uh huh," I respond with an annoyed expression, staring pointedly at him. "I think we've established that, Padfoot." I'm starting to get a tad bit angry. Why does he keep repeating himself? How annoying. Just like those stupid little crickets. Is my head a cricket home or something?

"Err, Prongs? May I remind you, we did create the Marauder's Map for purposes such as these?"

"…Oh." My eyes must seem pretty large right now. How in all of eternity did I forget to use the Map?

"Right, well. Prongs? What was it you were looking for me about? Is somefing wo-ong?" Sirius asks, in the most provoking baby voice ever.

"Oh, yeah!" I say, maturely sophisticatedly ignoring his mockery. "Sirius, this is completely serious. And I'm being totally serious here. I'm not talking like this for some odd mission that I might have to say "serious" as many times in a sentence. I'm really being serious." That must've sounded smart, James.

"Prongs, just get to the point. I'd really like to go back to the sleep I was so unexpectedly awaken from by your arse, which by the way, could you get off me?"

"Wahh—OH! Right. Sorry, mate. It's just I have really big news. Really, very big news. Look close, buddy. See right there? Where I'm pointing? Yeah! I know. Horrible."

"Yeah… what is this? A blemish?" He's laughing. Why is he laughing? I don't see anything funny around. I glance around the room just in case. "Prongs, you're acting like a girl, here!"

"WHAT?! No I'm no—." He slapped me. He slapped me hard. Sirius slapped me hard. What kind of a monster would do this? I totally did not deserve that. I think I'm going to cry…

Oh… Okay, I can see what he's talking about.

"Yeah, okay mate. I needed that. Sorry, again."

"No problem. Now is that all you woke me up for? Because really, I did not get a whole lot of sleep last night. Maybe you remember? It was your dream and insistent sleep talking that kept me up all night!"

"Sorry, mate."

"Yeah, sure."

Crickets. Damn crickets.

Long pause. "I need to get a grip of myself, Padfoot! I can't keep thinking about Lily and what she thinks is wrong with me! That's not the way to live. I need to move on. Lily's not the only girl at Hogwarts. Heck, I've got all of Hogwarts to help me move on. Am I right Sirius? Am I?" I must admit I said that pretty desperately.

"Right, Prongs. You do that. You move on. Yep, sure." Sirius fell asleep. Great friend.

I sigh. Yeah, I'll listen to my excellent advice. No more Lily! No more fantasizing about her, no more thinking about her, no more talking to her, no more asking her out. Yeah. I'm finally over her.

Merlin, that was easy.

Wait, what's this under my bed? Oh, mother of heaven. It's a picture of Lily and me in second year. Those were the days—when Lily didn't absolutely hate my guts. Look at her. She's beautiful even at the age of twelve. How does she do that? I mean, that luminescent glow of hers. Her hair. It's so long and flowy—my new word. Long, flowy, and shiny. And look at those huge pools of emerald where her eyes should be. Wait, no. Those are her eyes. Wow. It's hypnotizing.

Crap. This may be harder than I thought.