A/N: Eurgh. Summer is supposed to be a time of doing nothing and writing all the time. Unfortunately, this year, that has not been the case. Hence…I am not always going to be on top of my updating. This time, my excuse was that I was in LA for a week. Hopefully my real life should not stop you from reading/reviewing anyway, haha.

Enjoy!
Xx

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September 30

Morning Check:

Yeah, yeah, I'm getting up, but that's only because I wake up at five in the morning with a jolt because I didn't do some stupid assignment I was putting off. I guess guilt is nature's most effective alarm clock. Definitely something to think about.

9:45 AM
Status: Slacking off in Runes

I was on a roll last night and actually finished reading up on the translations we're doing today. So, instead of having to feverishly take notes and stress, I get to slack off and write in here.

To be honest, I've been missing my diary. It's been several days since I've written and that doesn't feel right.

Looking carefully at the situation, it seems that I'm bonding with an inanimate book. Maybe I would've found that strange as a twelve-year-old, but twelve-year-old me didn't have the mad-cap schedule I'm trying to keep up with right now, so I think strange is just par for the course this year.

Take the days I haven't written as a case in point. I've gotten to the point where I have to dedicate my lunch period to studying as though I have exams the next day. When I'm showering, I am so busy running through my head-lists that I forget if I already washed my hair. Last night, I fell asleep at my desk with my open Potions textbook as my pillow – something Alice smacked me soundly for this morning when she came in to wake me up.

I'm tired. I'm a bit of a wreck. I'm running out of shampoo. I don't know how I'm supposed to survive November, let alone the rest of the year. It has to get easier, it just has to; and yet, I truthfully don't know if it will. That scares the living hell out of me.

On a happier note, good things continue to happen here at Hogwarts. The Let's Be Friends policy that James and I created has been working as well as one could hope, with us being considerably less awkward than usual while we wander about the empty hallways, wishing we were sleeping or getting something done (but mostly sleeping).

Mostly, our topics involve school and work, because that's really all we do these days, but I think that's good enough. Sometimes I'll repeat a joke Mary told me the other day in Charms. Sometimes he'll tell me the real reason why Sirius's hair was pink yesterday, or why Remus looked like he swallowed a lemon in Transfiguration. Pretty weird stuff, generally.

Nowadays, though, his attention is focused on Quidditch. He'll tell me all about how he's doing the training, how his team is doing, what their prospects could be at this early point. There's a match tomorrow – the first of the year, between Ravenclaw and Slytherin – and he's been getting pretty excited about it.

"It's good we're not playing first this year," he had said to me last night. "That way, I can get a look at the competition and train the team accordingly. We have to win the cup this year."

And, because of this, I know more about Quidditch tactics than I would have ever cared to know in my lifetime. It's much more complicated than I thought it was. No wonder Livvy is so exhausted after practice these days – I'm exhausted just hearing about what they're supposed to do in theory.

I suppose this is a good thing. This peace, this chill conversation. I get along with James as well as I get along with the other prefects, with all my various acquaintances in the castle. He really has changed. He's a good sort of guy – polite but funny, sweet without overdoing it, rebellious enough to interest me but not enough to irritate me.

His little games have become tamer now than they have been in the past – probably part of his campaign to be a good Head Boy – and that's great. That's grand. That's even wonderful. In the span of a year, James Potter has become certifiably and inexplicably perfect.

But I just…it doesn't feel right to me.

Look, I am well aware that people don't stay the same. That they don't stay put in a tiny box or anything. But at the same time, this is…bizarre. After everything that has gone on between us, after all the comments and pranks and touching and driving me insane, it doesn't sit right with me that he's become this lovely gentleman while I remain the same messy, scatter-brained girl I've always been.

He was a certain way. Therefore, when I was around him, I was a certain way too. Now, though, he's gone and turned a one-eighty on me and I'm not sure where I stand in his life.

And now, as the bell prepares to ring and the students prepare to bolt out of here, I figure I'll just play it by ear and muse upon it later. Merlin knows I don't have the time to puzzle over it right now.

6:30 PM
Status: Relaxed (for once)

Currently, I'm in the Gryffindor common room, sitting by the window surrounded by my various piles of parchment and textbooks, and it's raining outside.

I've always loved rain. Always. From the time I was small and loved going out to the garden to play with my sister, Petunia, she got annoyed when the water came down and I got excited. She would run in, getting upset because her dress was getting wet, but I'd lie in the grass and get muddy and taste the drops as they fell on my tongue. My mum wasn't too thrilled about that, but I found it magical that the wispy white things in the sky were capable of throwing so much water at us when they felt like it.

I haven't changed much. I still feel that way…which is the reason why I'm avoiding my homework and watching the rain instead.

I am fully well aware that this is not the most productive thing I could be doing. If Alice were here (which she isn't, because she's in the library) she would smack me and tell me to do my homework while simultaneously painting her nails. If Livvy were here (which she isn't either, because she has Quidditch practice, Merlin help her) she would smack me and make me do my homework.

But as they are both not here, I am happily slacking off and watching the environment around me. It's not like I do this often or anything…it's just a bit of an indulgence, a once-in-a-while occurrence too gorgeous to pass up.

The sky is terribly gray. October doesn't always yield a lot of rain, but on this particular day, it's difficult to tell the date or the time or anything at all, since it's so dark. The rain is quite loud – I can hear it over all the chatter of the common room, the games of Exploding Snap and shouts of exasperation over something or another. I'm kind of wondering how Livvy and the Quidditch team are faring outside – it's miserable sport-playing weather.

Oh, shit. Shit. It's about six thirty, isn't it? Shit. Livvy's done with practice now – and judging by the muddy and exceedingly grumpy creature standing in front of the portrait hole, I think it didn't go so well.

I'm going to go see what's going on. Hopefully, it will distract her from the fact I have done squat since five o'clock when she left for practice.

8:45 PM
Status: …

As it turns out, Livvy's practice was awful. She was wet through and shivering. She was afraid of catching a cold. She was also furious.

"That bloody James Potter!" she stormed upon plopping her damp, muddy arse on the chair beside me. "Merlin, I could just about kill him!"

"Right, well, as long as you don't feel too strongly about it," I said. "What's going on?"

"Conditioning!" Livvy all but spat this word at me, her voice full of venom I've rarely heard in her before.

"Conditioning?"

"Yes, conditioning!" Livvy actually spat on the carpet. I was fairly repulsed by this.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Oh, I'll tell you," Livvy thundered. "Conditioning is James bloody Potter making us sprint around the enormous pitch twelve times in the pouring rain. Conditioning is doing complicated maneuvers in the pouring rain. Conditioning is doing push-ups and curl-ups and all manner of revolting exercises in the pouring rain. Why? Because we need to bloody train in all weathers so that we are a better team and win the bloody Cup. Well, we can't exactly win if we're dead, can we?"

I blinked. "I'm…sorry, Livvy," I said.

"Yeah? Me too," said Livvy bitterly, glaring at the carpet and breathing heavily.

We fell silent. Poor Liv – she doesn't usually mind exercising and conditioning, but if she's this distraught over it, it must have been brutal. I know through various chats during patrolling that James wanted to push the team – really push them so they would buck up and do what he wanted – but at the same time, yikes. This is one of those times where I'm glad I'm not a Quidditch player, because I absolutely hate doing stuff like that.

For several seconds, I toyed with the idea of sticking up for James, in that quiet we were having, because I felt oddly defensive of him and his single-minded need to get the Cup. But then those several seconds passed, I said nothing, and Livvy went upstairs to change into clean clothes. I stayed here and tried to make a little more progress on my homework, which failed miserably.

Now I have a patrol to take care of at nine, with James. I wonder if he'll be exhausted and cranky, like Livvy is; but really, I doubt it. James loves Quidditch. It would take a lot to irritate him when it comes his precious Quidditch. Maybe I'll ask him about it.

Eurgh, shit. I think I hear Livvy coming down the stairs and asking me if I did my homework. I didn't. I'd better run to my patrol before I'm late and Livvy can pin me down to question me.

'Night.

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A/N: The next chapter shall amuse you. It will definitely amuse me too. Meanwhile, review. You know you want to…