A/N: Nope, not mine


What, dear Merlin, was that? Did I have a civil conversation with Potter? One that consisted of a promise to attend a Heads meeting, and didn't consist of any date offers?

Trying to figure out what the hell that was all about, I wandered back, a little confused, out of the Great Hall. Apparently I was too befuddled to walk straight because I physically bumped into someone halfway through the Entrance Hall.

Rubbing my shoulder where it forcefully made contact with someone's hard chest, I looked up. The person I practically bowled into was holding my elbows, steadying my stance as I regained my balance.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," I said quickly, straightening and looking my unfortunate victim.

He was a Hufflepuff, judging from the yellow insignia on his robes, and I recognized him as one of the many prefects. He had dark wavy hair that his kind brown eyes that were looking concernedly up and down my body.

"No problem, you okay?" he asked, letting go of my arms.

"Um, yeah," I said embarrassedly, brushing off my robes.

He smiled. "Good. No harm done." He paused, studying my face. "Lily, you're friends with Alice, right?"

"Alice? Sure," I said slowly, trying to associate a name with his face. Got it! Frank, Frank Longbottom. I gave a miniscule sigh of relief. "So what can I do for you Frank?"

"Er," He looked deliberately down at the floor, "How is she?" he asked my shoes.

"Fine," I said. "Why?"

"Just wondering," he said quickly. "I, er, kinda tripped her earlier today," he admitted.

"Right! I remember now," I said, smiling. "She was late to McGonagall."

He looked up at me, aghast.

"Don't worry," I said, laughing at his suddenly worried expression. "No harm done. If it helps, I'm sure that she would have tripped anyway, with or without your help. A hopeless klutz, that mate of mine," I shook my head in hopelessness.

His horrified expression subsided and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Anyway," I continued, "Do you want to see her or something?" I asked. "I'm headed to the library right now, meeting her there, in fact. Want to come with?"

He paused. "Um, no," he said apologetically. "Have to see Professor Sprout about something."

"Oh okay," I said, turning to leave. "I'll see you around Frank, yeah?"

He nodded and I left.

I entered the library, looking around for Alice. Wandering around the many bookcases, I finally spotted her at a secluded table close to the Restricted Section.

"Hey Alice," I said quietly as I sat down next to her.

"Lily!" she said loudly in surprise, earning her a glare from Madame Pince.

"How was it?" she asked eagerly, dropping her quill in excitement. "Oh damn," she bemoaned, looking down at the splatters of blank ink that now dotted her parchment. "Oh well, so what happened?" she demanded.

"Nothing," I said, frowning slightly as I remembered Potter's odd behaviour.

"Nothing?" Alice repeated, looked fairly disappointed.

"Absolutely nothing," I bit my lip. "As in no date offers, no jokes, no horrible pick up lines." I watched as Madam Pince drifted away, instead focusing her scrutiny on a couple of Third Years giggling loudly a few rows away.

"Really?" Alice asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yeah. It was bizarre," I said as I bent down to get a piece of blank parchment out of my bag and my quill.

"Just 'bizarre?'" Alice quoted shrewdly. "Not the most joyful experience of my whole existence? Not the memory I will cherish forever? Not even..."

"No," I said shortly as I uncorked my inkbottle to write my first letter.

I cringed internally as I saw a smile bloom over Alice's round face. "Wait, Lily, you're not telling me that-"

"No!" I nearly shouted. "Nothing of the short," I said quickly, attempting to cover my outburst.

Alice's grin got, if possible, wider. "I didn't even finish my sentence." She was staring at me, all thoughts of her ruined parchment dashed.

"No need," I responded, my quill hovering over my unwritten letter. "I knew exactly where you were going."

"Well," Alice started, her lips pursed, "Can't you at least admit aloud to me in this deserted corner of the library, multiple rows away from prying eyes and listening ears, while most people are still at dinner, with Madame Pince all the way back at her desk-"

"You've made your point Alice," I cut her off. "We're alone. What do you want me to say?"

She huffed in annoyance. "That you don't detest James Potter nearly as much as you let on."

"He breaks rules all the time," I said, finally setting quill to parchment.

"And?" Alice asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "So do a lot of people."

"He doesn't pay attention in class."

"Neither do I," Alice exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Yet you deem me worthy enough to spend time with."

"He has dirty thoughts about me."

I could tell Alice was almost driven to banging her head against the table in frustration. "Merlin, Lily. Half the school has perverted thoughts about you. James happens to be the only one who ever says them aloud in your company. The rest don't say them aloud because they're worried James will throttle them to death if they do. Quite chivalrous, if you ask me."

I decided not to respond to her obviously problematic last statement. "He is immature," I said instead.

"He's seventeen!" Alice said. "You can't expect seventeen year olds to act like adults all the time. I think they're funny. Nice refresher from all the heavy exams."

"He's arrogant."

Alice sighed. "He's not as bad as he was."

I paused, searching for another reason not to like James Potter. "He has stupid hair," I floundered.

Alice gaped at me and then started to laugh. "That's the best you got?" Alice asked through giggles. "'Stupid hair'?" She paused, thinking. "That's such a lie."

"It is not!" I protested loudly.

"Sure it is," Alice said, smiling hugely. "Remember over the summer when we celebrated your seventeenth birthday together?"

I put down my quill from my letter. "Yeah?" I asked, unsure of where she was going with this. I stayed over at Alice's during August – there was no way I was ever in a million years going to willingly spend time with Vernon Dursley, my sister's fiancé, who was currently visiting the house every other day – and my birthday fell on our first weekend together. Alice somehow convinced me to go out drinking now that I was of age. Shamefully, it was only my second time indulging and I had no idea what a damn lightweight I was. Completely, staggeringly drunk, I remember stumbling into the Greengrass's house, giggling madly and acting like a right idiot.

"Do you remember what happened that night?" Alice asked, eyes twinkling.

"Um no?" I said, grimacing. "Next morning I was too focused on heaving my guts out and swallowing every pain medicine known to man to try to dredge up any memories of the night before. Mostly blurs, as I recall," I said, shuddering at the memory of the morning after.

"We met some people," Alice said enigmatically.

I narrowed my eyes at her obvious attempt at being annoyingly vague. "Who?" I said irritably, with a niggling suspicion that I knew exactly who had witnessed me so incredibly drunk.

"Rhymes with Schmarauders?" she said, grinning.

"No!" I practically shouted. "Why were they at that stupid pub in the first place?" I asked, lowering my voice in case Pince was wandering around near us.

"They live in Godric's Hollow too." Alice shrugged. "Or at least, James does."

"What the hell?"

"Popular wizarding village. Anyway we met up with them, and by that time you had had one too many." She sniggered. "Or, you know, five to many; never mind the details, and the Marauders were also a bit out of it, although not as bad as you, dear mate of mine." Alice patted my arm affectionately as I scowled at her.

"And?" I urged her.

"Well, you got all excited, began nudging me like there was no tomorrow, saying 'lookit Allie, it's James, Sirius, Remus and Peter!' over and over again until they came over.

"Then when they finally took notice of you – I admit getting on top of the bar and puking your guts out does get people's attention – they stuck around for a bit and had a few more drinks.

"I mean," she paused in her narration, "at a different pub because we got thrown out of that first one. Hung out for a couple of minutes outside when you protested the idea of going home, and then when you finally relented, they," she stopped again to remember, "here it gets a bit fuzzy because I was pretty smashed by that time too, but no, not 'they,' I'm fairly certain it was only James who came home with us."

"Came home?" I squeaked.

"Naw, not into the house, if that was what you were thinking," Alice assured me. "He saw us to the door. That boy can sure hold his liquor," she said admiringly.

"And he didn't," I stopped and cleared my throat, "er, do anything?"

"He only smiled when you amazed us all with a rendition of the national anthem, as opposed to the rest of us who were rolling around on the floor in hysterics. Quite a feat, I must say."

I frowned. "That's not what I meant."

Alice laughed. "Of course it isn't. No need to get your wand in a knot, I know what you're oh-so-subtly hinting at. He only gave you an innocent peck on the cheek after he safely saw us home."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. "No drunken snogs or..." I drifted off.

"Nope," Alice said, finally starting her Potions essay due tomorrow. "And before you go confront him, it only lasted less than a second. He got pretty jittery about it afterward, and sprinted off to rejoin his mates."

"Oh," was all I could say.

"Yeah. That boy as amazing self control." Alice sighed wistfully. "Looking back on it, I should have let him get a bit more action."

"Alice, you're not telling me that you would have let him take advantage of me in that state?" I glared.

"Well," Alice said after a beat, "But then it would resolve all that sexual tension you two have got going on."

Sexual tension? Sexual tension my arse. Bah! All I felt around James Potter were murderous inclinations that I must squash. Or at least suppress temporarily. McGonagall would not take it too kindly if I up and strangled the Head Boy. Was provocation a legitimate excuse? Somehow I don't think the Wizengamot would see it my way. Oh well.

"What sexual tension?" I asked Alice loudly. "You're delusional. There is no sexual tension," I insisted stubbornly.

"Well. Maybe," Alice said doubtfully, and then regained her previously mischievous demeanour. "Not yet, but there will be!" she declared proudly, "when you finally realize that he's an alright bloke and finally fancy him like you ought to."

"There is no reason to fancy James Potter. There never will be," I retorted.

"Certainly not, since he has such 'stupid hair,'" Alice said, snorting with laughter.

Sometimes my strangulation thoughts strayed from their most popular victim, Potter. Like now. Alice must die soon if she continues on with these Lily-and-James themed thoughts. Because that was never going to happen. Ever. I mean, how awful did 'Lily and James Potter' sound? It's just unnatural. Er, not that she was thinking that I should marry the bloke. Not at all. Just that I should date him. Of course.

And this is when I came to the conclusion that I need a new best mate.

"Plus, you don't really think so," Alice said, her voice breaking through my train of thought.

"Oh no?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope. You said so yourself."

"Really." I leaned back to survey her face more intently.

"You said, and I quote to the best of my ability," she rubbed her temples, trying to remember, "I was pretty plastered at the time – 'Oh James, do you know I find your hair extremely sexy?' and then you went on to illustrate the other parts of his anatomy you find 'sexy,'" she grinned back up at me.

I looked at her, beyond horrified. What in Merlin's name possessed me to say those things? To Potter, nonetheless? I think I just might die of embarrassment.

I seized her by the shoulders and moaned, "Alice, what the hell else did I say?"

"Er, I think I let you mention his hair, like I said before, and then his Quidditch biceps, you then went on for a bit over his arse. I stopped you after that, I think. Doesn't matter." She shrugged.

"It so matters!" I yelped. "Please Alice," I pleaded.

"James forgot anyway," Alice said offhandedly while I was having a mental breakdown at her side.

"Forgot?" I said, suddenly delighted.

"Oh yeah, poor bloke." She shook her head sadly. "Owled me the next morning, asking if I'd seen his shoes."

I looked at her questioningly.

"Oh yeah, apparently after they left us, the Marauders continued to drink, and James was so pissed that he somehow lost one of his shoes. Later explained in the note that he couldn't really remember anything either and asked me to tell him what happened," she laughed. "Didn't really trust his mates to recount the truth. Who would blame him really?" she asked rhetorically.

"And what did you tell him?" I asked her urgently.

"Er, that we met up, and drank a bit together and then went home. That's it."

I relaxed back into my seat, relieved. "So Potter knows nothing of my, er, adventures from that night?"

"Nope. Not a thing," Alice said casually, returning to her abandoned essay.

"Oh. Good then." I too turned to my half written letter. Deciding that it was all rubbish, I crumpled up the piece of parchment into a wad. Sighing, I took out another sheet and began again.

Dear pen-pal – I settled on as a greeting, "dear correspondent" sounded too formal.

I don't know about you, but I'm finding it incredibly hard to figure out what to tell you. I come from a family of four that consists of my mum, my dad and an older sister two years my senior. All very ordinary, I'm sad to say. In advance, I warn you, this letter is bound to be terribly boring; I'm afraid my life is pretty dull.

Personally, I'm very academically oriented. My studies come first before just about everything, save my best mate or sometimes a good book. My favourite subject is Charms; I absolutely adore Flitwick. Do you know, he used to be some sort of duelling champion? I imagine the lack of height must make it easier to doge all those curses... My least favourite subject must be History of Magic. I mean, when will we ever in later life need to know the date that Danolyn the Demented accidentally demolished Danzig? What's with the alliteration anyway? Everything in that class seems to begin with the same consonant. It's unsettling. Not that I regularly dwell on the oddity that is Wizarding History; it's just something I noticed while pretending to listen to Binns while doodling images of my classmates on my parchment. After seven years in that class, I think I have built up my nonexistent talent so that I can earn serious compliments like: "I think that looks like 'insert name here' if you squint really hard and tilt you head 90 degrees" as opposed to my best mate's response when she caught me drawing back in second year, "Is that some sort of troll-goblin hybrid? It's kind of disturbing." It was actually a drawing of my best mate, although at the time I had enough sense not to tell her so. After I graduate I'm going to try to become an Auror, and I'm absolutely sure that there is no way that I'll ever have to memorize another date again. Thank Merlin for that.

During my free time – something that is becoming an increasingly rare experience what with NEWTs and other responsibilities that are being shoved at me – I like to read and sometimes play chess if I can find someone who is patient enough to play with me. I tend to think my moves through with deliberation; although my best mate is under the impression that my strategy is to bore her to death so that she loses on purpose to end the torture.

Here I paused again, unsure of how to end my slightly rambling letter.

After a few crossings out, I simply signed it Sincerely, a friend.

I looked up at Alice, who was busy tapping the side of her quill to her head as she thought of another point to add to her essay. "How's it coming?" I asked quietly.

"Okay, I guess," she admitted. "I still have another four inches though. I mean, how else does a newt's liver affect the outcome of a sleeping solution?"

"Here, let me look at it," I said, reaching my hand out for her piece of parchment. I looked at my watch. It was only nine thirty.

"Oh Lily you're a lifesaver," Alice muttered, closing her eyes and rubbing her face.

I quickly scanned her essay which gradually became more long-winded as Alice scrambled for something to add and shook my head at her handwriting which became bigger and messier as she ran out of things to say.

"Just write a bit about how newt's liver has a sort of numbing sensation on the brain and how that increases the likelihood of drowsiness, and I think that'll do it."

"Brill, Lily," Alice said with a grateful glance in my direction as she set to work. "After I finish, do you want to head out of here? Back to the common room or something?"

"Sure," I said, then backtracked. "Wait, first I think I'll mail my letter that I just finished."

"Kay," Alice muttered distractedly as she finished her essay.

"I'll meet you there," I said as I gathered my things to go.

I exited the library, passing by Madam Pince who was stamping and endless pile of books, and made it to the owlery. My small grey owl fluttered down to meet me and held out its leg expectantly. "Here you go," I murmured quietly. As soon as the owl took off I left.

It was as I made my way down the charms corridor, I stopped as I heard a familiar sounding noise.

Someone was crying.

I quickened my pace to the source of the noise. As Head Girl it fell under my responsibility to stop things like that; homesick first years, teased second years, even the occasional heartbroken fourth year... etc.

However, before I could reach the upset student, the sound stopped suddenly, before resuming a bit quieter than before. Curiously I heard murmurs in the breaks between the sobs. I crept closer until I was right next to the doorway of the unused classroom where the sounds were issuing from and could distinguish words.

"-just that I didn't even know what they meant!" came from the doorway, punctuated with heaving breaths and the occasional stutter.

"There, there," the second person said awkwardly. My eyes widened in surprise. I recognized that voice. Despite the absence of its usual confidence, I'd never heard it say something so sincerely. "Are you alright? Physically, I mean," Potter amended. "I can see you're pretty torn up, er, emotionally."

"Yeah," hiccupped a small female voice.

"What's your name anyway?"

"Vance."

"Your first name?" Potter asked quietly.

"Emmeline."

"Hello Emmeline," Potter said, deliberately using her first name, "My name's James."

"I know," Emmeline said softly.

"Oh you do eh? My reputation precedes me then," Potter told her, attempting to get a smile out of her. I assumed that it failed because he then took on a more serious tone. "Their spells didn't do anything?" he inquired. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," she repeated. Must be a first year, I thought.

"Because I can take you to the hospital wing if you're in any way hurt. Madam Pomfrey absolutely adores me, just ask anyone," he boasted. "Just don't reveal our secret affaire, okay? It gets me free extra pillows and sleeping solutions."

She gave a shaky giggle.

I could just picture his eyebrows wiggling up and down comically, and his glasses slipping down his nose.

"And believe me," he added, "when you sleep in the same dorm as my mate Wor-Pete, you need a good sleeping solution some nights. Snores like you won't believe."

"No, I-I'm okay." I heard her sigh heavily.

I was relieved to notice that her reply was free of any sobs, although it did stutter a bit.

"You're alright?" Potter asked again and then paused. I assumed the first year nodded in response, because nothing was said for a second.

"Well then, can you at least tell me who did this to you?" he asked, his voice taking on a hard edge.

"I don't know all their names," she said, and this time her small voice wavered dangerously.

"Can you describe them to me?" he pressed as I heard movement inside the room. I peeked through the doorjamb, and saw Potter, his back to me, kneeling on the floor so that he was eye level with a small teary eyed first year sitting on a desk.

"Houses?"

Emmeline breathed in deeply, steeling herself to speak. "Slytherin," she whispered.

"I see," Potter said shortly, as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "And can you tell me what they looked like?" I could tell he was staring her in the eyes.

I gaped. This was the most serious I had ever seen Potter in the seven years I had known him. It was illuminating, to say the least.

She glanced around nervously before responding. "One was tall, taller than you, he had," she gulped, stabilizing her breath as the sobs threatened again, "blond hair. I think one of other," she paused here, futilely searching for the appropriate name for her attackers. Giving up, she continued, "er, she called him like Amy-something."

Potter ran his hands through his hair, evidently thinking hard.

After a moment in which Potter was uncharacteristically silent, the first year continued, "the other one, she was tall too. They looked similar." She gulped.

Emmeline was not finished, and I pressed my ear closer to the door jamb to hear her words, which had gotten infinitely quieter. I could see that the tears had resumed their previous course down her cheeks.

Potter got up from his kneeling position to pace as the first year continued her description. I could see that his walk was jerky, and his hand jumped to muss his hair every few seconds.

"I was-" the tears ran faster and Emmeline now seemed like she had trouble breathing, "-walking back from the loos, and they called out to me. The spells started after a few sec-" She broke off, unable to continue.

"Those blo-" Potter began angrily, but then stopped as he realized his present company, instead he began walking again. "Carrow," he muttered under his breath. "Of course Amycus and Alecto."

Mumbling darkly to himself, Potter looked around when the first year gave a particularly loud sniff. Suddenly his scowl transformed itself into a concerned smile. "Don't worry, Em," Potter said softly, kindly taking off his tie and using the end to wipe away her tears. "We'll get her, don't worry," he promised. He folded up his tie and pressed it into her small hand for later use.

Emmeline simply continued to stare at him.

Potter continued smile at her, but to me it seemed a forced. "Look, why don't we get you back to your dorm? I can see you're a Gryffindor," he said, fingering the house symbol on her chest. "Fantastic house, if I do say so myself." He puffed out his chest slightly.

It earned him a watery smile.

"Come on, we can get you in bed, it's getting late, and how about in an hour I'll send the Head Girl up to check on you? In case you have trouble sleeping? Have some girl talk or whatever."

Emmeline nodded, looking a great deal calmer now that Potter announced his plan to see her back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Want to see a magic trick?" He asked her, his smile a great deal more sincere now that she seemed alright. He leaned in and whispered something in her ear. "Sounds like a good idea?"

Emmeline nodded.

"Appeario Evansium!" he said, pulling out his wand and making a ridiculous show of fancy waves and jabs.

Nothing happened. Bemused, I watched Emmeline, whose smile had gotten larger at Potter's crazy pseudo-spell.

"Sorry, Em, maybe I got that wrong," he said sheepishly. "Apperio Head-Girlium!" He shouted louder, staring right at the door.

The first year watched him again, and this time he did some sort of dance as well as waving his arm around like a lunatic. Giggling, she stared at him with wide eyes as he even took one of her hands and twirled her around the room for a bit.

"Well," Potter panted, "I guess I'll have do it the old fashioned way, eh?" He said, winking at her again. "Oi, Evans! Get your eaves-dropping bum in here!"

Damn.

Clearly, I wasn't as sneaky as I thought I was.

"Way to ruin the moment, Evans," Potter scolded me as I sauntered into the deserted classroom, save for the first year and Head Boy. "You were supposed to appear the first time I said the spell." He wagged his finger at me reproachfully.

"Well, Potter," I said dismissively, "I would have, if you had gotten it right in the first place. Not my fault if you can't do the spell properly."

He took on a highly affronted look, "I'll have you know, it's certainly not my fault that you are too dense for it to work."

"Huh?" I said jokingly. "Dense? Me?" I said, shaking my head in a disbelieving manner. "I am nowhere near dense. Maybe it's because you're too dense to know that adding 'ium' and 'io' and the end of words do not make a spell," I said, shaking my finger at him sadly. "Emmeline knows that, surely," I looked at her.

She nodded, a smile still playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Well, Em," Potter continued, playing along, "Now that the esteemed Head Girl has finally meandered into our company, I'll turn you over to her, yeah? You'll be glad. Evans will probably be loads better at this comforting thing than I am."

"You were all I needed," Emmeline said quietly, blushing furiously.

Potter's face broke into its first true smile of the night. "Thanks," he said muttered, curiously enough a little embarrassed. He checked wrist. "I need to start rounds in a few minutes, and despite common misconception," he winked at her, "I cannot be in two places at once." He let go of her hand and raked his hand through his hair one more time. We both watched him lazily walk out of the classroom.

"Oi Evans," he called over his shoulder to me as he reached the doorway, "Have her back by eleven, won't you? Don't want her folks to get too antsy."

"Yeah, yeah, Mister Potter!" I yelled, and I heard him chuckle as he left us.

"Well then," I said as I followed in Potter's footsteps out the door with Emmeline trailing quietly behind me, "Let's do as Potter asked. Gryffindor Tower's not that far. I don't think you'll even break curfew," I said reassuringly.

Emmeline looked up at me. "Do you think they'll come back?" she asked quietly.

"No," I said truthfully, as I put my arm around her protectively. "Knowing Potter, he's probably already at the Headmaster's office to personally file your complaint with Dumbledore," I said as we walked out of the classroom and down the hallway onto Gryffindor Tower. "That boy knows the castle like the back of his hand. I don't know how he does it.

"You needn't be afraid with James Potter looking out for you," I told her seriously. "He is one of the most loyal people I have ever encountered, and values friendship above all everything else. As his friend, I'm sure he won't let anything happen to you." I paused, unsure of what to say next. "You were very brave tonight, and I for one am proud to be a part of your House."

Emmeline sighed and nodded. I could tell that she didn't feel like her act of heroism was worth it at all because she didn't meet my concerned gaze.

"Do you want me to repair that for you?" I asked as I noticed her torn hem.

She seemed surprised at my question and looked down to where I was pointing. Apparently she hadn't noticed the ripped seam. "Um, sure," she said softly.

Noiselessly I mended her robes. She stared, transfixed, as the threads started to weave back together on their own accord.

"Nonverbal spells," I explained. "You'll learn them sixth year." Unsure of what to say next, I led her silently up a staircase.

I made a bit of idle chatter the rest of the way, focused on keeping the conversation light and away from dark magic or the Carrows. "And so here we are," I said once we stood in front of the Fat Lady.

"Cutting it a bit close, aren't you?" she asked, concernedly from me to the first year and back again.

"Emergency," I said by way of explanation.

"Password?"

"Poppycock," I said. I gave Emmeline a leg up after the Fat Lady swung forward to admit us.

I half expected a whole gaggle of concerned students awaiting our return, but only a handful of fifth and seventh years remained in the common room. Apparently this Wednesday night it was a light night for everyone else. "Come on," I said to Emmeline, urging her to follow me up the staircase.

I stopped as soon as I faced the first year dorm. "Here you are," I said, letting go of her shoulder and pushing the door open. "Do you want me to check on you later?"

Emmeline didn't answer at first, pondering her response. "If it isn't too much trouble," she said nervously.

I smiled down at her. "Of course not," I said firmly. "I'll be back in an hour, alright? If you're asleep, I'll just stick my head in the door. If you're not, I'll come in."

Emmeline nodded.

"Great," I said as I watched her enter her dorm. As soon as she reached her own four poster, I closed the door quietly and left.

"Where were you?" Alice demanded as I entered my own dorms and flopped back on my bed. "Head duties," I said. I didn't really feel like explaining the whole situation to Alice. "Potter was surprisingly civil, and so it lasted longer than normal since I didn't have to storm out any time soon."

That seemed to satisfy her, but I felt a gnawing sensation of guilt in the pit of my stomach. I really had no business to insinuate that Potter had been anything but nice and caring tonight. Giving a groan of frustration that I usually only reserve for Potter, I got out my semi-completed Potions Essay while I waited out my hour to check up on Emmeline.

An hour later, my Potions Essay complete and half my Transfiguration homework done, I crept down the staircase to poke my head in the first years' dormitory. All the lights were out, including the one by Emmeline's bed, and so I reasoned that she must have had little trouble getting to sleep. Poor little thing was probably exhausted.

Satisfied, I also crawled in between my covers soon after. However, unlike Emmeline, I couldn't get to sleep that easily. Potter kept running around my head, driving me mad. One second I was replaying our conversation in McGonagall's special meeting, and then his conversation with Emmeline in that empty classroom. His personality from one to the other seemed worlds apart, and I couldn't help but wonder which one was the real Potter.

Completely mental, that one is, was my final thought before I finally drifted off.


A/N: Please review!