-Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Woah, it's been awhile since I updated! Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing. I appreciate it. Here's the next installment! Last chapter was kind of intense, with all the drama; so I tried to tone it down a bit, in that sense. In this chapter we have….more of Lily's highly entertaining opinions, an appearance by The Seriously Sexy Sirius Black and James, up to his usual no good. Hope you like it!
My Dearest Lily,
How are things? I was quite pleased with your recent letter! I know school is hard, considering it's your last year and you want to have a strong finish, so you can get a high-paying job, (possibly at The Ministry) and marry a very respected, well-off young man (preferably James Potter) and get a nice house up in Hertfordshire, so you won't end up your like poor Aunt Millie, who's got that terrible gambling problem and sleeps in the back of her 1977 Station Wagon.
But I know you'll make me proud! You always do! You've got a good head on your shoulders and your intelligence is beyond what I could have ever imagined (I'd like to say that you got this from my side of the family!)
One thing I must ask: Don't be too hard on James. His mother tells me that he's having a tough time with his post-graduation plans. He wants to skip the university all together and play professional Quidditich! Of course, Wendy doesn't frown upon this notion; word around town is that James is the best Seeker Hogwarts has seen in years!
However, his father has put his foot down and demands that James get a degree. But James is so set on his ways that he won't speak to his father until he accepts his decision. It's quite a shame. Anyway, like I said, don't be too harsh with the boy. I'm sure he has a lot on his mind right now.
And what's this about Sirius Black? He sounds like a fine young lad! Although, I've heard from the grapevine that he's got rather long hair and gets into trouble a lot. Maybe James can take some sense into him, guide him along the path of righteousness.
Well, I'd better go. Dinner's on the stove and I don't want it to burn. Your father sends all his love and wishes you the very best. Your sister says hello.
Love Always,
Your Affectionate Mum
I obediently skimmed my Mother's letter in record time and tried not to laugh, for the sake of her own dignity. Naturally, my Mum's good intentions were overloaded with her clueless ideals. She just didn't understand that James Potter and I were as compatible as oil and water; the two would never mix. This scientific discovery could be fully attributed to what happened last Saturday.
With the persuasion of alcohol, Potter was more obnoxious and vile than his personal status quo. I was unable to discard such a memory and for one reason or another, my subconscious hatred would finally conquer my conscious thoughts, thus showcasing the disaster that had occurred.
Actually, Potter's drunken displays of public idiocy weren't the element that would continuously trigger my venom; it was more like that bloody kiss! I felt humiliated beyond spoken words. I couldn't believe that he'd mustered the ignorant bravery to pull a stunt like that, especially in front of Sirius.
I had escaped the situation and fled to my room, vowing to forfeit the remaining lapse of the party for a good book. The following day, I avoided Sirius and Potter all together, picking the catacombs of the library over the brisk outdoors. Surprisingly, I was able to complete all of my homework, though my mind refused to stay on its tight leash. Every time I began to read, I could only envision Potter and the way he'd forced himself on me.
Seriously, who did he think he was? Maybe I had a big sign on my head that declared: PLEASE KISS ME, JAMES POTTER, BECAUSE I LOVE LOCKING LIPS WITH TOADS!
I mean surely, this could be the only probable explanation. I just knew that I hadn't sent out any uncanny vibes that would influence Potter to dive right in for the kill. However, I think I would be telling a white lie, if I boldly stated that the kiss was absolutely atrocious. Yes, yes, I can practically hear your gasps as I continue to frantically dig my figurative grave.
Go ahead, fall on the floor and have an aneurysm. But make sure you recover in time for the rest of my confession. Have you regained consciousness? Are you able to maintain a regular interval of oxygen intake? Yes? Good.
Moving on, despite Potter's intoxication and the fact he was groping at my mouth like a salmon swimming up stream, it lasted long enough for me to adequately judge his kissing skills. His mouth was rather warm, like a freshly-baked chocolate chip cookie. And let's just say…he knew what he was doing.
The entire time I was engaged in my steamy lip-lock, I practically had to beat myself into incapacitated submission. Because the entire time (approximately 5.5 seconds) I was kissing Potter, I had to remind myself that SIRIUS BLACK was my sort-of-maybe-possibly-hopefully boyfriend in question.
And honestly, a faithful girlfriend wouldn't have lasted for those 5.5 seconds. She would have viciously slapped Potter right across his fat face and then threw herself into the arms of her anxiously awaiting Prince Charming.
But no. This is my strange and bizarre life we're shoving in the spotlight, where everything is more like a badly written, melodramatic soap opera, without the orchestral soundtrack. I had to submit to the will of weakness and I was indifferent to my tumultuous emotions. I mean honestly, if my life isn't a big of a hurricane already, let's add a lethal tropical storm into the messy mix. Naturally, I was carrying this pessimistic perspective like a 500 pound weight when classes reconvened.
Audrey could automatically detect my foul temperament, but chose to spare her face of any bruises. Therefore, she was perfectly polite in reaction to my bestial behavior, but she maintained at least twenty-five feet of personal space. I was really grateful for her courtesy, and silently reminded myself to thank her at a more convenient time.
Later, in Potions, I noticed that Potter was missing. I was still terribly uncomfortable around Sirius and had pre-programmed the notion of sitting with Remus. However, my dear old friend was glued to his spot next to Peter, therefore feeding me to the jaws of an unfortunate fate. I glared at Remus, who pretended that I was invisible. Or perhaps he was too busy having Technicolor daydreams about Audrey, since his eyes were glazed over and his lips were fixed into an eerily docile smile. Hmm…interesting.
Sirius immediately grinned when I was thrown into his line of vision. I tempted his assumption of emotional stability and silkily breezed over to my saved seat. Professor Slughorn was unreservedly engrossed with some bogus formula on the chalkboard, so I took this as an opportunity to straighten out our dilemma.
"Hey, Lily. How are you? After Saturday…well, I kind of got the idea that you were mad at me. Or something," the possible keeper of my heart anxiously confessed.
I fidgeted around in my stool, pulling on the itchy fabric of my wool skirt and pushed up the hopelessly long sleeves of my black robes.
"I'm better. Thanks for asking. I'm sorry I kind of ran off. But I was just so….so….repulsed by Potter that I couldn't think straight. I wanted to come down and talk to you, but I was afraid Potter was still lurking around," I tensely enlightened.
Sirius chuckled, lazily opening his blindingly blank notebook.
"No, he kind of ran off after that. Probably broke into the broom storage shed and flew around the Pitch. He does that from time to time, when he can't handle a situation. The next best substitute for running away, he used to say. Anyway, I figured that you'd be upset. I just wasn't sure who the target of your distress was."
I sighed, my heart floating with liberation, as I was informed of this revelation. It was a good thing that Sirius wasn't angry with me. Then I'd probably be even loopier than my current state. I found it quite intriguing that Potter hadn't reacted with violent words of spite or tried to sucker punch Sirius.
Maybe, for once, he had finally understood the full depth of his actions and thus deciphered the negative impact of his consequences? Maybe for once, James Potter wasn't the sole attraction of his narrow-minded world? I mulled this over, turning it over and over in my mind, and then decided that it was too far of a stretch.
Finally feeling at ease, I placed my hand over my sort-of-kind-of-perhaps-more-than-often boyfriend's. He offered a genuine smile and interlaced his fingers with my own. My heart fluttered, but it only mimicked the weak wings of a dying butterfly. I decided not to take this as cause for mental hysteria, but matched his expression.
"Can I ask you something, without sounding like an idiot?" I anxiously demanded.
He nodded, flicking a piece of hair out of his cobalt eyes, which seemed to roll and thunder like the buzzing electricity before a sea storm. He really was gorgeous….beautiful even, in a way. And yet, I found the initial attraction begin to fade, the spark that had once ignited a frenzied forest fire slowly started to ease into a water-fearing flame.
What was wrong with me?
I practically had England's Hottest Bloke eating out of the palm of my hand and I was resisting his charms? Someone, please, just ship me off to St. Mungo's because I bet I can accurately asses my own diagnosis.
"Go ahead, love," he hospitably persuaded.
He said this term of endearment with such a nonchalant calm, that I wanted to squeal with delight.
"All right. Well…now that we've established our feelings for one another, I just wanted to know if we're like…official or something. Because I don't think I could keep pining away for you, if this isn't a real relationship and I told my Mum about you and-"
Before I could choke on my own nonsense, I was immediately silenced with a powerful kiss. This was nothing like the sloppy assault of Potter's Saturday Night Smooch. Once again, my futile attempts to envision fireworks only resulted in an empty canvas. But to set the record straight, Sirius Black is one amazing kisser.
I mean, I almost forget we were in the middle of class, with about twenty of our peers ogling our mini-snog session, watching like a bunch of country hicks who see a working automobile for the very first time.
His hand slipped out of mine and slid up my shoulder, then confidently rested on the base of my neck. I could have sworn that Sirius's Hufflepuff admirers were shooting poisonous daggers at the disparate end of my spine. Ha. Eat your heart out, girls! I indulged in the sensation of his mouth hungrily pressed against my own, loving the idea that I could finally label myself as someone's girlfriend.
All right, so it sounds really shallow, but hey, I'm still seventeen! The fact that I'd managed to snag the affections of someone that was just as intelligent as witty and equally funny as passionate, could easily be interpreted as a heavenly blessing. I giggled then pulled back, feeling a bit self-conscious.
"I don't think Professor Slughorn appreciates our tonsil hockey," I softly jested.
I didn't turn around, fearful of the judgmental eyes of my classmates.
Sirius chuckled, recoiling back with an unwilling force.
"I suppose so. You know, Lily Evans, you're nothing short of amazing."
I resisted the urge to blush, pleasantly caught off guard by his sentimental yet highly poignant comment.
"And you, Sirius Black, are nothing short of wonderful."
Feeling particularly elated, I lazily strolled down the hallway to the nearest bathroom. Professor Binns was conducting a rather long and snore-worthy lecture about The Great Crusade of 1834 and I was doing everything in my self-determination to not pass out on my desk.
Other students had rebelled against the boredom. This type of revolt included painting toenails, reading trashy romance novels, shaving one's legs, playing poker or, in my boyfriend's case (ah, it feels so good to say that), engaged in a heavy slumber, drooling all over his doodle-filled notebook.
Gross, yes, but somehow, strangely sweet.
I decided that the only way to avoid a total mental meltdown was to wander the halls for a few minutes. Granted, this wasn't responsible or moral behavior, coming from Head Girl, but I decided it was better to loiter the depopulated halls, than get caught taking a snooze.
As I rounded the corner, my wind sneakily wandered into a debate between the ever present conundrum concerning James Potter and Sirius Black. To the innocent bystander, the suggestion of a problem would be absolutely preposterous. I had the school's star Quidditch player constantly vying for my attention (and losing), while I had managed to tame the wild stallion, said Keeper's partner in crime.
But I knew that surface appearances weren't the best elements to analyze the veracity of a situation. The outer layer of my internal tennis match was free of blemishes and errors, sleek and creamy like a red rose that has been spray painted with thick gloss. On the other hand, plunging past this stratum, the inner core contained the molten remains of an ever-exploding volcano, rocks and debris projectile vomiting out of the mountain's opening.
I just couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that perhaps I was looking at everything with tunnel vision, that I had secured my opinions with one-sided disbelief and ignorance. I had never really given Potter a chance to redeem himself, had I? But on the contrary, when had such road to perdition been uncovered?
Any chance of my sincere forgiveness was essentially blocked by his thick-head and his resilience to humility. No, he would rather make an ass out of himself and fuel the raging fire of his dignity, than back down with an apology.
Suddenly, I felt the timid breeze of a door as it was thrown open. Next, I felt a calloused hand capture me by the waist, my protests clogging my dry throat. Finally, with the stern click of the shut door, I swiftly turned around to face my kidnapper.
"Lumos," his voice animatedly hissed.
My eyes widened, the heat of indignation creeping up my neck like a viper.
I was staring into the nearly black eyes of James Potter.