Chapter 2: Lessons Learned "Peter...Peter...you okay, Peter?"
"What's the problem?"
"Yoo-hoo, Earth to Pete!" James' hand waving frantically in front of my face finally broke through the faraway muddle of voices. I blinked, aware, and he cocked his head at me. "Something wrong? We've almost got this Animagus thing down, but you're behind, and that's not like you. This is your subject, Pete. What's up?"
Sirius frowned at me, as he'd made a habit of doing. "You're distracted or something. What could possibly be more important than your friend?"
Well, when he put it that way...
"Oh, lay off him, Sirius," James retorted. I could always count on him. "You don't have to guilt-trip the poor guy. He's only human."
"Exactly what we're trying not to be here! But, hey, if he's got better things to do than help Remus, he can be my guest."
I didn't dare say anything; that was the last thing the argument needed. Luckily, I didn't have to, as James said, "Oh, come off it; we've been working at this non-stop. His brain's probably fried, and honestly, so is mine, so why don't we just call it a day?" He playfully slugged Sirius in the arm to drive the point home.
In seconds, Sirius' face brightened, and you'd have never been able to tell he'd even been cross with James at all. They went off to lunch together, leaving me alone in the Room of Requirement. It was for the better, though I'm usually not an alone person. I needed to think. They'd been right; I was distracted.
It had been two years since that incident with the Byrd girl on the train. I'd found out a lot about her since then--her first name was Amaryllis, though she liked to be called Amy, and she was a Hufflepuff in my year. I learned that her strong suits were in Charms and Arithmancy, and that she idolised Lily Evans in much the same embarrassing way I adored James. I learned that she had a wide variety of friends; Gryffindors Emmeline Vance, Juliana Radcliffe, and Melody Thompson; Hufflepuffs Timothy Perks and Adeline Midgen; and Ravenclaw prefect Septima Vector. I learned that she was a painter, vegetarian, pianist, activist, and all-around flower child that loved Muggle culture yet wanted to grow up to be a wandmaker.
And I'd talked to her, really, when I could manage. You see, I'd also learned that my friends didn't like her at all.
You're probably going, duh, stupid Peter, you couldn't tell by the train incident? Well, that was just a little thing. I mean, they really, really didn't like her. And I had no clue why, other than that she was friends with Melody, and everyone in school knew that Melody and Sirius didn't get along.
But we had talked, and were actually semi-decent friends, when the others weren't looking. And with Remus entertaining a flirtation with James' Quidditch rival Ellie Petty, James chasing Lily, and Sirius on-and-off dating Pandora Vernon, they were kept sufficiently busy when we weren't all pranking, so maybe they didn't even notice when I went off with her.
Voices on the other side of the wall brought me back to reality, so I listened to make sure no-one was coming in.
"I need help with my Arithmancy assignment tonight," a husky female voice said.
A familiar airy Cockney answered, "Again? Adeline, did you only stay in that class for the teacher?" I bit my lip. It was her. I could imagine her, big brown eyes rolling in exasperation, long blond pigtails bouncing as she walked.
"Oh, as if half the school doesn't fancy Professor Cartesian."
"And I'm one of 'em, but Adeline, this is a very serious class." I was still picturing it. She'd probably stopped and turned to face her friend, lowering her glasses down the bridge of her button nose. She may not have looked like a force to reckon with, with her elf-ears and freckles and pouty lips, but she meant business. Then I fancy her face softened upon realising she's offended her friend, before breaking into a forgiving buck-toothed grin, because she then said, "All right, I'll 'elp you. What're friends for?" And in my mind's eye, I saw her skipping down the hall, her tiny, spritely body almost floating through the corridor.
And then, allowing myself to slide down the wall, face bright red, I learned the most shocking and painfully obvious lesson of all.
I had fallen for Amy Byrd-- hard.