Author's Note: Huzzah! I've put out another long chapter. This is also the last chapter before I send them off to Hogwarts again. Anyway, thanks to all my readers and reviewers. Reviews make me jump up and down with joy. Please drop a few words, I always appreciate it, and I will respond through the response links.

Droopy Breeches

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My Prefect Notebook

August 5, 1976

I knew Petunia's taste in men was bad, but Vernon is just repulsive. He's dim-witted, slightly rotund (and growing I'm sure of it), and utterly obsessed with his bland career prospects. He came to our house for Mum's planned family dinner, and I can't even comprehend what drew Petunia to him. Even for her, even as desperate as she is to get out of the house, how could she?

Vernon arrived half an hour earlier than we expected him to, so dinner wasn't even remotely ready yet. Petunia and Mum fussed over the preparations in the kitchen leaving my poor father and I to entertain him, and what an unpleasant fellow he is: tall and bulgy with cheeks that bear the constant flush of two too many cups of mead. What's more, he was wearing a suit of impeccable tweed that made my father in his casual slacks and button up shirt seem sloppy and me in my jeans and t-shirt seem slatternly in the extreme. The way his beady eyes pierced me as we sat in the awkward silence of the parlor also made me feel rather like street trash.

Dad engaged Vernon in a few minutes of conversation about his work and stocks and bonds, but Dad certainly isn't a naturally talkative fellow, and he soon retreated into the shelter of his paper, leaving me fully open for a frontal assault from Vernon. I'd been gardening right before he arrived (ah how I miss Mary's house) and my jeans certainly showed the strain; I was green about the knees, brown about the feet, and red about my calf where I'd torn my jeans and cut myself on a loose screw. (Heavens, this description does really make me seem slovenly. I would've had time to clean myself up if only Vernon had arrived on time.) Vernon eyed my torn pants while sucking on his plump fish lips.

"Petunia mentioned that you go to an interesting school, Lillian. Would the administrators of your school really let you dress in such a . . . manner?" as he spoke spittle caught in the caterpillar mustache trembling above the lips.

"I go by Lily; Lillian isn't even my name, and what has Petunia actually mentioned about my school?" I highly doubted it was anything remotely resembling the truth.

Vernon shot a nervous glace at my father, but seeing that he was buried in his paper continued softly, "Only, that following a slew of shocking incidents your parents were forced to enroll you in a very isolated boarding school. I've investigated, but have been unable to find any mention of the boarding school, Hogwarts, anywhere. I can only assume that this school is located in some very remote corner of the world or that Petunia was hiding your real background from me."

"Even if that's the case, why should where I go for school have any impact on you?"

"I'm a respectable man, little missy, the youngest assistant manager at Grunnings and rising every day. My position is important, and many in my company would gladly see me fall on my face. If something about you—If my career could be put in jeopardy due to the criminal past of my fiancé's sister I would like to be informed about it."

"I assure you Vernon," I said calmly, "no matter how hard they look no one at Grunnings will ever dig up any dirt about me or Hogwarts."

"There is no way you can be sure of that. I assure you, the men and women of Grunnings are more resourceful than you could possibly imagine. For my safety, and in order to secure your sister's future prospects, I'd like you to be fully frank with me about what you spend your time during the school year doing."

"What I do during the school year is none of your business," I whispered softly but with as much venom as I could muster. "If I am engaged in any criminal activity, and I promise you I'm not, I certainly wouldn't perpetrate such acts anywhere near your company. I have far too much respect for the working men and women of Grunnings to ever do that. Besides . . . " I said with a casual flick of my hair, "there's no real money to be made from robbing drill companies."

Vernon's eyes swelled to match his fish lips, and my father coughed rather hard behind his paper concealing his laughter. Just as Vernon began to attempt stuttering replies Petunia burst into the room. Seeing Vernon seated next to me, her mouth hardened to a granite chill. "Dinner's ready," she crowed, grabbing Vernon by the arm and pulling him out of the room.

"Lily," murmured my father, his eyes the mirror image of mine twinkling, "it might just be me, but I sense that Petunia's fiancé might not have as quite a developed sense of sarcasm as you and I. Perhaps, especially considering your unique schooling situation, we should attempt to be more tactful."

"He's the most self-important, puffed up, pompous, fish-faced—"

"Yes, but Petunia likes him, and it's not for us to question her judgment."

"She can't honestly expect us to all be okay with a man like—"

"Lily," and his voice gained a stern edge, "you will hold in your temper until Vernon leaves tonight. After that you may feel free to vent to me, but you will not upset your mother with complaints."

"Dad, Vernon already thinks I'm a delinquent; can you just send me to my room for the rest of the night?"

"I'm pretty sure that would upset your mother, and when I upset her my stomach suffers. Lily, if you just do this for me I promise that when you bring a boy here, which mind you shouldn't be for some years yet, I'll give him a couple of minutes to prove his worthiness before driving him out."

"And if I bring a girlfriend?"

"Then I'll just leave you and your girlfriend alone with Vernon for a few minutes. If your love can whether that I suppose I'll just have to accept it."

"Thanks, Daddy." I don't think my simple accounting of our conversation can do justice to my father. I idolize the man. Ideally, I wish I could always behave like him: calm, thoughtful, kind. Unfortunately, though I may have gotten the Evan's eyes, most of me belongs to my Duncan side: the red hair, the temper, the tendency to hold grudges . . . Any good qualities I may possess I attribute my father. (Well, actually, my excellent jinxing skills probably come from mum).

As I walked into the dining room, I saw Vernon frantically whispering to Petunia. He had clearly taken me quite seriously. Poor, sad, man.

Mum sensed the tone in the air and was rapidly bustling around throwing food onto all of our plates. Hoping, perhaps, that with food in our bellies the mood would dissipate and we could morph into the desired happy family. She was partly right in this assumption. The food prevented heavy conversation, though Vernon certainly had a knack for simultaneously chewing and talking. Thus, it wasn't until pudding that Vernon started in about my school again.

"Mrs. Evans, you're an excellent cook," he said, patting his belly. "I can only pray that you've passed this skill onto your daughter."

"Well, to Petunia certainly, but Lily is so often gone that I've never been able to give her quite as many lessons as I'd like."

"Mum," I sighed, "you've given me more than enough. When I stayed at the McDonald's, Mary's mom would make me cook at least once a week because she liked your recipes so well."

Vernon's beady eyes followed me as he asked, "The McDonald's? Not Hogwarts?"

"I stayed with my friends the McDonald's for about a month this summer."

"You'd think, that since you never get to see your own family while you're at Hogwarts you wouldn't be so eager to abandon them once summer rolls about. What kind of people are the McDonalds?"

"Vernon," cried Petunia, clutching his red arm, "why does it even matter what kind of people Lily spends her time with? It shouldn't matter to us, we don't have to associate with them."

"Just in case you were wondering," I said coldly, "the McDonalds are greengrocers and are perfectly respectable people."

Petunia shot me a cold look. "Isn't their daughter a friend of yours from your school? How respectable could they be with a daughter like that?"

Across the table my father's eyes found mine. I saw the warning in their depths: Resist it, Lily. You're better than this, Lily. I love you, Lily. So, I held my tongue.

"So there are others who attend this school of yours?" said Vernon.

"Well," I said, coldly, "that's kind of the point of a school."

"Who runs this school? Is it privately run or a religious institution?" Then Vernon's eyes lit up. "Or perhaps it is associated with our prison system, a sort of containment and rehabilitation center for juveniles."

"No-no," stammered my mother, "Lily just goes to a private boarding school, nothing like that."

"Then why is it that Petunia didn't attend this school? It hardly seems fair that you'd save to send off your second daughter, but not the first."

"Lily got in on a scholarship grant, due to her test scores," mum gasped.

"How on earth would a private academy, that's clearly not even located in Europe, get a hold of one small girl's primary school test scores? I think," and his mustache bristled as he rose, "that I am being lied to. I do not appreciate being treated with this kind of behavior, and unless I get the truth of this matter once and for all I don't think I can align myself with this family."

Petunia shot up pleadingly, "Vernon, darling, please. You're blowing this completely out of proportion."

"I do not appreciate being lied to, and to find my own fiancé has done so is the worst of all. Tell me the truth of this matter, Petunia, or I may retract my engagement."

Petunia's face was tinged green and her long neck swiveled about desperately, possibly looking for any escape from this situation. I couldn't believe that she could actually have any attachment to Vernon, but what did I care if my name was dragged through the mud. If it could help Petunia, then oh well.

"Petunia," I said, jumping up, "Thank you for covering for me, but Vernon's right. If he's going to join this family then he needs to know all of its secrets." Petunia's eyes bulged, terrified that I was loosing the raw magical truth.

"I don't actually go to a boarding school; I wish, but I highly doubt any respectable school would take me. Instead, since I was eleven, I've been going off to various schools for unstable children. I went first to a religious school, but I was far too vulgar for the nuns. They promptly shifted me off to a succession of state run schools. Now, I'm in a juvenile detention facility, the only place that will take me, really."

Petunia and my mother bore identical gape-jawed looks of shock, and my father was clutching his spoon with a trembling hand, in rage or laughter I couldn't quite tell. Vernon, on the other hand, finally looked contented. He slid back into his seat beaming in satisfaction.

"See now," he grunted, " I don't see why everyone was so determined to keep that from me. It's my right to know whether or not my sister in law has a criminal record. If I'm just upfront about what a bad seed you are to the managers at Grunnings I'm sure that the impact on my career will be minimal. By the way, what crimes exactly do you have to your name?"

I pulled random offenses out of the air. "Oh . . . theft, carjacking, loitering, trespassing, disrupting the peace, smoking near no smoking signs, and . . . ummm . . . gang violence." I could see I'd overdone it because Vernon began to choke violently on his pudding. Petunia flitted about his head while he desperately sought to free his airway.

"You shouldn't just be in detention facility," he spluttered, "you-you should be in outright jail, juvenile or not. I suspected you were a criminal, but never— I didn't even imagine— Petunia, I don't think there is any possible way that I can remain in this engagement. Petty crime can be pushed aside as a mere black sheep, but this behavior . . . It seems clear to me now that you Mr. and Mrs. Evans could not have raised your children correctly. Either that or the blood's just bad all around. I'm sorry Petunia, but I no longer wish—"

"You absolute toad." I muttered, murder in every syllable, "You can insult me, and accuse me of criminal behavior all you want. And if my sister allows your ill treatment then that's her choice, and her fault for casting her lot with yours, but you will not insult my parents. You will not breathe a word against the hosts who've put up with your preening and your arrogance and your absolute disregard for the feelings of even your fiancé. You will not insult my parents!"

"Lily," hissed Petunia, "Lily, you're only making this worse. Please just explain to Vernon that you were exaggerating about your crimes. She's all bluster, Vernon, darling. Really, she's committed nothing worse than shoplifting—"

"Petunia," I screamed," Stop trying to justify yourself to him! He's the one who's insulting you. How on earth can you even think of marrying him? What on earth do you see in him? Even you could do better!"

"I wouldn't expect a freak like you to understand. Vernon is everything you're not, normal and sensible and working towards honest goals. He's dependable. With him I never have to worry about whether my hair will change color or the vegetables will fly up to the roof. With him I'll have no surprises, just a normal, expected life."

"And that's honestly what you want? You who dreamed of flying, you who wished for magic, want that?"

"Yes. I want a life without magic, a life without you!"

I stared at her through fogging eyes. People say that we don't look very much alike: different heights, different build, different hair, different eyes . . . But as I stared into her face I noticed the similarities: the nose, slightly turned up at the end, the eyebrows, light and tapered, the single dimple, oddly high on the cheek. She is my sister, through and through. She is my sister, but she hates me.

I turned to flee, and behind me I heard a crackle and crunch as the pudding bowl exploded and glass pelted the walls.

I'm sure that Vernon was left utterly gobsmacked, or at least splattered in gobs of pudding. Hopefully, he'll still leave Petunia, but I doubt it. For all his talk he's not likely to find anyone better than her.

I've received a letter from the Department for the Control of Underage Sorcery. Thank goodness it's a first time offence, and all I got was a warning. If it was Vernon, horrible fish faced Vernon, who caused me to get expelled, then I'd make sure to cast a couple of my nastiest jinxes his way before they snapped my wand.

I'm so livid, and not just at Tuney and her wretched fiancé, but at my parents. How could they? How could my noble father just stand and let Vernon sully our family? How could my firebrand mother stand to sit meekly by while we were insulted?

How is it possible to love my family so much, to be so packed with concern for then that it's like a physical ache, but to hate being with them to a degree where I'd gladly toss all my possessions in a trunk and ride the nightbus as far away as it will take me? How can Petunia still hold onto her hate so well? You'd think that that type of grudge keeping would drain away at a person, but maybe she doesn't have to keep it anymore. Maybe she's just absorbed it in, imbibed it in to the point where it's just as much a part of her as our misplaced dimple.

Thank goodness I'm going back to school soon.

Wretchedly Yours,
Lily

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August 7, 1976

Dear Lily,

I hope you are enjoying yourself back at your home. I was sorry to see you go, and in fact tried to see you a couple of times the week preceding your departure. Unfortunately, we seemed to keep missing each other. Then again, it's very easy to miss someone when they're standing behind a mountain of produce, or hiding in a closet, but I digress.

I'd like to talk to you as soon as possible. I guess that probably means on the Hogwarts express. I could apparate over to your house, but I doubt either you or your parents would take kindly to that interruption. Anyway, I hope you're having a nice summer. See you and talk to you soon.

Frank

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August 9, 1976

Dear Lily,

I'm back, and only ran into deatheaters once, well twice if you count that one time at the diner.

Just kidding, Lily. In fact, my summer was rather mind-numbingly tedious. It turns out that dad's reporting just involved long-winded interviews with lower members of the French ministry. I don't speak French, but even so, I wasn't allowed to attend these interviews. Instead, Davy and I were shipped off to waste time with our Great-Uncle Barney's cousin Marigold. I have no idea what that makes her to me. Bleh . . .

So, are we meeting up in Diagon Alley? I could really do with some English speaking, non-cheek-pinching company. Hope to see you soon.

Love,
Marlene

P.S. What is this Mary tells me about a certain Frank Longbottom? Whatever happened to good old celibate Lily?

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From the Notebooks of Sir Prongs namely James Potter

August 15, 1976

Sirius's motorbike is done. I'd been sort of curious as to where he'd been disappearing to, but this morning he emerged all greasy, yet somehow still fetching (I hate him sometimes), from the tool shed and announced that his bike was done. He'd even managed to add a few wicked enchantments to it. I'm not sure how he managed it. Did he buy magic parts? Or did he just ignore the underage sorcery laws and enchant it? Sirius has a theory that in houses with overage wizards the ministry can't actually tell who's casting the spell, and thus we can do as much magic as we please. I'm not feeling up to testing that theory, but I can see Sirius doing it.

Anyway, Sirius's bike can fly. He's just bursting from the seams with pride. He says that it's even better than a broomstick, but that's ruddy impossible. How could some muggle smoke belching monstrosity ever beat the smooth handling of a broomstick?

Despite my reservations, Sirius convinced me to take a ride on the bike seeing as we needed to stop by Diagon Alley to get school supplies.

"But, Sirius, Remus and Peter need to pick up supplies too. We can't fit four on a bike."

"No need," beamed Sirius, "Remus won't want to take the bike and I don't want to take Peter."

"That's hardly fair."

"But it's true; he'll weigh down the bike."

"Peter is not that fat. You probably weigh more than he does."

"Are you calling me fat?" said Sirius, voiced laced with mock girlish indignation.

"No . . . it's just your muscles are so . . . heavy. I doubt we'll even be able to get off the ground."

"Good try, mate. But you needn't worry. Wormy will just go with Moony; no one's alone. Good feelings all around."

Thus, we embarked off for London on our flying motorbike. Another one of Sirius's magical modifications was a handy dandy disillusionment charm. The charm didn't spread to us, but to avoid looking foolish (after all I did have to cling rather tightly to Sirius as he insisted on driving) and attracting unwanted attention we flew under my invisibility cloak. Other than upsetting a few bird formations and nearly hitting one building (darn reflective glass) the flight went off without a hitch.

Sirius and I then set off to purchase all our goods for the coming year. The list of books was exceedingly daunting. I planned to continue in all of my courses except Divination (despite my O), Astronomy, History of Magic and maybe Care of Magical Creatures. I actually did really well on my test, but I'm pretty sure that I won't need it unless I want to pursue a career as a dragon tamer or future gamekeeper, which I definitely don't. I'm actually not really sure at all what I want to pursue. I could always be an auror, but that career doesn't actually have that much of an appeal for me.

I'd like to have a career where I can do what I'm best at and what I most enjoy . . . unfortunately, I'm not entirely sure of what that is. I'm decent at quidditch, but probably not decent enough for the professional leagues. I'd say my best subject is Transfiguration, but in what career could I professionally transfigure? I wonder if I could be a professional animagus? I guess before I could be I'd first have to become a legal animagus . . . hmmmm, that would require far too much paperwork, plus a good cover story.

"Sirius," I said, leaning towards him as he perused an astronomy textbook, "do you have any idea what you're going to do after Hogwarts?"

"Hmmmm," he grunted, looking up, "Come on James, we're only sixth years no need to worry your shaggy little head about it yet."

"Humor me. Haven't you even thought about it?"

"I guess I . . . I guess I'll just do what you do."

"But I have no idea what I'm going to do after Hogwarts."

"I guess that means that we're both flummoxed."

"Sirius, seriously mate," he shot me a wry smile at the old joke, "You can't depend on me for your future career. We don't like all the same things; you might hate whatever I eventually settle on."

"I'm not really picky. Honestly, I'm open for anything. Since I don't care what I go into I should at least try to be with someone I like. Thus, I'll just do what you do."

"Come on, Sirius. We don't need to have the same job to spend time together. You should really consider what you want to do with your life."

"Hey James, look there's Lily."

"I will not be distracted. I want you to settle on at least one concrete potential career."

"No mate," he laughed, turning my head, "she's really there."

And there she was. Right outside the shop window of Flourish and Blotts stood Lily, Mary, and Marlene. Lily was looking highly harassed and heading for the store's door.

"Marlene's here," said Sirius, "I haven't seen her all summer. You know, I quite enjoy her. Out of all of the sixth year girls she's the only one who really shares my sense of humor."

"I need to hide," I whispered, looking around for an adequately large bookcase.

"What? Why? This is Lily, remember?"

"That's the point," I moaned. "Remember the last time I saw her? The incident with a certain over affectionate—"

"And devilishly handsome."

"And wildly inappropriate mutt. In my attempt to keep your mangy paws off her I acted like loon. I don't want to see her now, especially not when she's with her friends. You may enjoy McKinnon, but I find her highly intimidating. So, help me find a hiding place."

"If I help you hide, will you lay off me about the job thing?"

"Sure, sure, for now," I pleaded, seeing Lily pass through the door.

"Fine," grinned Sirius, "Into the Divination section. Lily won't go in there; she didn't take that class." Saying that, we slipped into the Divination section, an area loaded with books carrying eyes, grims, and various ominous portents. Sirius pushed me beneath a table bearing a tasseled cloth and a crystal ball.

"Now you get in here too," I whispered.

"Not likely," laughed Sirius, "I'm not afraid of Lily. In fact, I'm rather keen to see her after all the lovely snogging we did. Besides, I'll distract her from discovering this cowardly display."

"I hate you Sirius Black."

"No you don't. Be back soon." I saw a flash of red as his trainers streaked away.

"So, why are you here?" murmured a voice by my elbow.

I rapidly turned and smashed my head against a table leg. Through streaming eyes I caught sight of Emmeline's messily attired sister, Maggie, also crouched beneath the table. On the messiness scale she wasn't actually all that bad today, sweater buttoned crookedly and ponytail frizzy and lopsided, but at least her face was clean.

"Holy Mary!"

"It's Maggie actually," she said crossly.

"Yes, yes, I know that. I was just cursing because I was surprised and I hit my head."

"Ah," she said, smiling, "please continue."

"Nah, I'm good. So, why are you here?"

"I asked you first."

"Yes, but I'm older, and you just caused me to sustain minor brain trauma."

"You're not a lot older," she said huffily, "I'm going to be a fifth year, and my birthday is even early on. You're only a good eight, nine months older than me."

"Yeah, but I'm a good deal more mature. Look at the state of you pudding face." I said gesturing to her hair and clothes.

At the mention of the old nickname her face curdled, skin draining and brows contracting in anger. "Hey Potter," she hissed, "I may not know exactly why you're down here, but I do know you don't want to be found. If you don't shut your trap and tell me what I want to know I might just have to reveal your location."

"Fine, I'm down here avoiding Lily Evans. Why are you down here?"

"Why would you avoid Lily? Everybody knows you love her. Is it because her and Frank are dating now?"

"That is not necessarily true. We just know that he went on that one date with her, that does not imply dating."

"Whatever," she said, straightening her ponytail, though as soon as she'd fixed it promptly slid to the left again, "Frank is interested. You were there when he admitted it. And I don't know what Lily thinks, but if Frank expressed any interest in me I'd definitely go for it."

"Well then good thing you aren't Lily." It was difficult to hold in my irritation with the messy imp. It was a pity that I couldn't leave or even speak above a whisper in fear of discovery. "So then, why are you hiding beneath this table?"

"Well, like you. I am hiding from some people I'd rather not face right now."

"Who?"

"Well . . . Fabian for one."

"I can understand that. He can be a real git."

"Yes, yes," she said, "but that's not the main person. I can deal with Fabian as long as he's not actively eating my sister's face, but I saw his sister earlier, and she simply terrifies me."

"Molly Prewett?" I'd never met her, but I'd heard my mother mention her a few times before. All I knew was that she was a redhead with a temper, and frankly, that's a combination that I normally like.

"No, Molly Weasley. She's been married for a few years. She's fiercely protective of her younger brother, and she only recently found out that Emmeline is dating Fabian. She was harassing me for details until I had the good sense to slip under here. She seems to think that Emmeline isn't worthy of Fabian, not that she married all that well, eloping with a Weasley. They may be purebloods, but they don't have two galleons to rub together."

"Funny," I mussed, "You'd think that Fabian would be the one who isn't worthy of Emmeline, git that he is."

"You know, he really isn't all that bad. A little pompous, kind of full of himself, but beneath the shell the nut's good."

"How very profound. So," I asked, beginning to feel my muscles cramping, "how long have you actually been here?"

"I don't know, an hour or two. But it's not all bad, I've heard some pretty interesting things down here."

"Like what?"

"Well," she murmured, leaning closer so that her face was directly by my ear, "I heard a lot of silly gossip, who's snogging who and what not, but then there was a group of Slytherins, I think, and it seemed really serious. One of them mentioned that even some kids within Hogwarts have been recruited by You Know Who. That he might even be making underage wizards deatheaters. If that's true, then there are deatheaters inside Hogwarts. Isn't that crazy? Makes you a little bit scared to go back to school."

"Did you hear any specific names? You know who some of the deatheaters are?" As I asked I pictured Regulus's face, Sirius in miniature, but pinched and drawn, entirely lacking in his brother's infectious joy. I could only hope he hadn't. Regulus had stopped delivering Sirius's things, but that didn't necessarily mean he'd become a deatheater. More likely, he'd been caught, or lost his nerve, or changed his mind. He wasn't necessarily a deatheater. I hoped for Sirius that he wasn't.

"Nah, I'd reckon they'd have to be really stupid little Slytherins to go and blab the names in a bookstore, that's talk for their common rooms. But you know I have some pretty good guesses. There are several people in Slytherin who've been more than open about their support for You Know Who."

"Who'd you think?"

"Well that Mulciber is a nasty fellow, and I'd bet that all the kids he hangs around with Avery, Snape, Nott, maybe even that girl Narcissa Black. All the Blacks are really unpleasant. I hear that Narcissa's older sister is a deatheater. Bellatrix, do you remember her? Mental girl."

"Not all the Blacks are unpleasant. Don't just go generalizing like that."

"Oh," she smirked, "sorry. I didn't mean to insult your boyfriend. Sirius is of course the white sheep of the family."

"Regulus isn't all that bad either. Or at least Sirius thinks he's pretty decent."

"Whatever, he's in my classes, and he seems a brat, a spoiled, pale, princeling. He may be good looking, but I'd never date someone so clearly stuck up."

"Well, I don't think anyone expects you to go and date a Slytherin."

"You on the other hand, I'd date," there was something hidden within her eyes. I couldn't tell her intent. Was she being serious or not? Best just to take it as a joke.

"Whoa there pudding face, I saw you in diapers, that would be really creepy."

Her curdled look was back, "Once again, I'm a year younger than you. If you saw me in diapers than you were probably still in them too. I'm not asking you out or anything. I'm just saying that I'd be willing to date you, maybe even eager. I'd also be fine with dating Frank, but he's taken. I might consider Sirius, but he doesn't really date does he?"

"Not as far as I know, or at least not steadily. He prefers to dabble."

"Yes, that's not what I want," she said, her black eyes fixed on me, "I'd prefer a steady dating experience. You and Frank both seem the type. Pity that you're both hung up on the same girl."

"You're alarmingly forward; did you know that?" I said hoping to divert the conversation.

"Yes, I know. It's one reason I was having trouble dealing with Molly Weasley. She's also alarmingly forward, and we forward people generally get into trouble when confronting each other head on, collisions and what not. But that's not the point," and her eyes were right back on target, "the point is that I'll probably ask you out at some point."

"Do I get a say in this?"

"Of course, if you want to be the one doing the asking out, feel free."

I was getting rather exasperated by this point. Despite being consistently messy, Maggie was rather good looking, and I was flattered. But, as previously discussed, I'm not interested in the whole casual dating thing. I'm a man with a plan. I'm a man with a goal. I want the one, and the one is Lily Evans.

"What if I'm not really interested in dating right now?" I asked.

"You should be. You've never actually dated anyone in Gryffindor, and I think that's because you've been working to avoid serious dating, as you're too infatuated with Miss Lily. Maybe, if you dated a little you'd find it much easier to get over her."

"What if I don't want to get over her?"

"Well, then a little bit of dating could serve to make you a better boyfriend for her in the long run. Wouldn't you be embarrassed if you eventually convinced her to go on a date and she dumped you because you were such a bad snog?"

"I don't think Lily is like that." Lily, Lily, supremely good Lily wouldn't ditch a fellow just because he might not be the most experienced. I'm sure that if I was a bad snog when we eventually got together she'd help me get better through practice. Oh, how I'd like to practice with Lily.

"I find that if a guy's a bad kisser that he always becomes less attractive, even if he's a decent person. The opposite is also true."

"I'm not a fan of this superficial mindset you have. For one so very, very young, you seem awfully jaded."

"No, I'm just realistic. You live in a fantasy world. If you could break out of it I think you'd find that Lily isn't as perfect as you imagine and that there are a lot of very attractive equally amazing girls out there for you to date."

"You know, maybe you should date Sirius. It seems like you and he have similar mindsets. Both of you should get together so that you stop being so opinionated about my love life."

"Or lack thereof. But it doesn't matter, I don't want Sirius, that's not what I'm looking for." And she was looking at me in that rather uncomfortable fashion, again. Her glance rather made me feel like I wasn't wearing any clothes, which was amazing because I was wearing three layers.

"Did somebody say my name?" asked Sirius popping his head beneath the cloth.

"Sirius," I gasped, in relief, "Is it safe to come out yet?"

"Why is Margie down here with you? Have you two been canoodling? Is this why you were trying to avoid Evans?"

"It's Maggie," hissed Maggie, leering at Sirius.

"No, Maggie just was feeling similarly impelled to hide," I said, as I poked my head out from beneath the table. I couldn't see Lily or her friends anywhere, but my view was rather restricted. "Is it safe to come out, yet?"

"Yup," said Sirius, pulling me up. "Evans departed with her mountain of textbooks about a minute ago. She was so distracted that she might not have even noticed you; she nearly hit her head on the doorframe on the way out. By the way, Moony is waiting for us in the Leaky Cauldron."

"With Peter."

"I suppose," sighed Sirius, rolling his eyes, "I didn't bother to check."

"Alright then," and I turned to Maggie, though I avoided her gaze. "Thanks for not revealing me, and . . . I suppose I'll see you later."

"Just remember what I said because I meant it."

"Sure, sure," I called as Sirius and I slipped out.

"I picked up your books while you were so . . . occupied," said Sirius, giving me an encouraging slap on back.

"We didn't do anything. I'm not the type who goes sneaking around under tables."

"Then why was she looking so mussed?"

"She always looks that way. She's Emmeline's younger sister, and I used to call her pudding face because she was constantly covered in either chocolate or mud."

"Awwww," said Sirius, pinching me on the cheek, "that's an adorable nickname. Your Pudding."

"Don't worry, I'm not even remotely interested in her. I mean, I'm flattered at the attention, but I could never think of her in that way. Plus, I find her distinctly unnerving, and that isn't really a good quality in a girlfriend, or at least not one I'd like."

"Wow, Prongs, she really has you all topsy-turvy. I was just heckling."

"Yeah," I sighed, "I'm sorry. She just said some interesting things."

And she had, really. Ignoring all the uncomfortable stuff about my love life, she'd mentioned that Voldemort now had deatheaters in place within Hogwarts. If that's true, then how far would these deatheaters go to achieve their master's aims? Would they actually attack anyone within Hogwarts, or would their purpose be purely recruiting? Either ways, Hogwarts was starting to feel significantly less safe. True, the threat of Voldemort had been steadily rising for years, but maybe I'd just been ignorant to it when I was younger. Somehow, despite hundreds and hundreds of deaths, no one I'd actually known well had been killed.

Dad had certainly been threatened, but being high enough in the ministry that's rather unavoidable. I've never actually worried all that much about dad because he's so utterly competent. Somehow, I can't even imagine him ever being harmed by the deatheaters. Maybe I just don't want to imagine it.

Still, if Sirius's brother is in danger then I need to offer him whatever help I can. I know that Sirius can stand up to the deatheaters; he's just as infallible as my dad. Sirius may not know what he's going to do with his life, but I have a pretty good guess: he'll fight. Sirius is a natural fighter. He'll give all those dark wizards a taste of the power of the white sheep of the Black family. Regulus on the other hand, he's in a bad place. I'm not sure if he can avoid being dragged down in the gathering darkness around him. If it's really true that there are deatheaters in Hogwarts, then trouble is on its way . . . that's for certain.

Tastefully Yours,
James

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A/N: Thanks for reading. I'm being redundant here, but reviews make me update faster. Plus, they earn my love . . .

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