Summary: "If you don't stop talking to me, I WILL hex you," I told James. The prat shut up and stared at me. Eh, I'll hex him anyway. Do NOT annoy Lily Evans.

Disclaimer: So. Marching band is unfathomably fun when I have only one free hand to hold my horn. My shoulder hurts. Does ANYONE know the story behind this? Well, I fell off of my horsey and separated my shoulder. Yeah. I was bareback. With a halter. And no lead rope. In the pasture. So, I pretty much deserve it. At least, that's what people keep telling me. Yes. This SO counts as a disclaimer…

"This is ridiculous," I whispered. "I can't believe I'm doing this. Again. I'm a prefect. Prefects don't do things like this." I paused. "Or, at least they don't get caught. Hey, that's a good sign! I think. I'm such toast if that creepy cat sees me. She's probably like hiding behind a corner, just ready to pounce. Then Filch will put me in some deranged torture device.

"Great, now I'm paranoid. Or maybe I was already paranoid. Goodness, maybe I was always paranoid, and just didn't know it yet! Wouldn't that be ironic! Nah, not really. Goodness, this is completely mental! Oh, so now I'm paranoid and mental? Chill, Lils, I didn't mean it like that. Oh my. The wonders of talking to yourself in a hallway all alone in the middle of the night.

"Not that I would be talking to myself if someone else was here. I'd be talking to that person. Except maybe if it was Potter. Then I'd be talking to myself. Only not out loud. So I could be paranoid and mental and no one would know. Except me and the voices. Gah, what if they talk to Potter, too?! No, they wouldn't do that. The voices don't like Potter, either. If he hears voices, then they can't be the same ones I hear.

"I still can't believe I'm doing this. This is more than my poor paranoid, mental, schizophrenic little mind can handle. And all for a bloody brownie.

"Yes. I am risking my reputation, my life, and the last dredges of my sanity for a brownie. That bitch slave driver I call a stomach is still commanding me. It's really a miracle that I don't weigh WAY more than I do. Hmm. So hungry!

"And I'm still talking to myself! I can't believe this! Okay, well maybe I can. Bloody slave driver stomach. Can't let me have a night's rest…

"By the way? I am once again headed to the kitchens without a cloak. This is just completely absurd! The only way my life could get weirder is if I walked into the kitchens to find Snape and Malfoy snogging.

"Ew. No, that would just be scarring… Okay, it would be weirder if Clyde was in there singing and we had sex and then Potter walked in. WHY DOES POTTER ALWAYS RUIN THAT DAYDREAM?!

"HAH! Yes! I have reached the pear! Giggle, dammit!" Laughing hysterically at my success, I bounced into the kitchen and sat down at my usual chair. Which was strangely soft and squishy. For a chair.

"GODDAMMIT EVANS!"

I screamed and jumped off of James Potter. Who wasn't really sitting there. Then I saw his head. OH MY GOD SOMEONE FINALLY DECAPITATED THAT BASTARD, AND IT WASN'T ME? Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! My life's goal, ruined!

"Dammit!"

Potter's head made a face. Not that it could do much else… "Leave off, Evans," it said as the rest of his body appeared.

"Thank goodness you're not dead!" I said. He gave me an odd look. I rolled my eyes. "Then I wouldn't be able to kill you, and my life's goal would be ruined," I clarified.

"Gee, Evans, thanks for that," he said sarcastically. A house elf brought me brownies. Haha, I don't even have to ask anymore…

"What are you doing here?" I asked, noting that he wasn't eating.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

I stared blankly at him, then stared at my brownies. "Doing my Charms homework," I said.

"Very funny, Evans."

"I'm eating my goddamn brownies, what does it look like? Now, what are you doing here?"

Potter looked down at the table. "Thinking," he muttered. Oh, he looks so cute! No! Bad Lily, bad! Potter is not cute!

"You can think?"

"Do you have to be so sarcastic?"

"It's three A.M!"

He seemed to consider this. Then Black and Lupin burst into the kitchen.

"'Lo, Lils!" Sirius said cheerfully.

"Hey," Remus said shyly.

"Marauder meeting?" I asked.

"No, actually. It seems we just all have stomachs on the same time schedule," Potter mused. Then Chip walked in. "And so do you."

Chip looked surprised to see the boys. She had to know that I was there, as my bed was empty. Then she grinned. "Orgy!"

I made a face. "Chip—it's the Marauders!"

Chip's face fell. "Dammit. Ah well, pass the Butterbeer around, eh?"

James lunged for the Butterbeer before Sirius got a hold of it. Chip and I awarded him funny looks. "Trust me," he said grimly. "If Sirius gets any of this in his system, we'll see him wearing only a kilt and singing a muggle rock song while doing an Irish jig on the table. Again."

"Again?" Chip and I chorused.

"Last Halloween," Remus clarified.

"Sirius, you have that low of a tolerance to alcohol? This stuff couldn't get a flobberworm drunk!" Chip burst out.

Sirius opened his mouth, but it was Potter who answered. "Oh, believe me. He can shoot firewhiskey like a rock, but two sips of this and he's totally piss-faced."

Chip and I bust out laughing. I have never heard anything more hilarious in my life! "Sirius, that's pathetic!"

"Being around you guys at three a.m. makes for very good black mail," I mused.

"Not black male, they're white!" Chip protested. We all stared at her for a moment.

"All right then…" Potter somehow chose the only three words that could possibly fit in said circumstance.

"Racist," my friend muttered.

"Chip, it's times like these I wonder why I keep you around."

Chip grinned. "Because together you and I are funny. Alone, anything we say is just retarded."

I threw a brownie at her. "You know, she has a point," Potter said.

"Why can't I have normal friends?" Remus wondered, directing his question towards the ceiling. If he gets a response, then he's probably a parselmouth and there's a basilisk in pipes. Then we'd all have to run like nitwits while making Sirius look around corners. Human sacrifice. But nothing so silly as a Gryffindor being a parselmouth and a basilisk hiding in the pipes would ever happen at Hogwarts. I mean, how ridiculous would that be?

"M-O-O-N, that spells nitwit," Sirius muttered. I stared at him, horrified.

"What kind of IDIOT let SIRIUS BLACK watch The Stand?" I demanded.

James and Remus both looked at the floor. "Well…"

"Remember James' explanation for me on Butterbeer? Well, that's kinda what happens to them on firewhiskey…" Sirius started.

"NO. I don't want to know," I said firmly, hands over my ears.

"It's getting late," Remus noted.

"It was already late," Black said, rolling his eyes. That's when all the lights went out.

"Oh. Shit."

"What happened?" Chip squealed.

I can feel Remus rolling his eyes at us. "The house elves have to sleep sometime."

"They could have given us some warning," I muttered. "Alright, who's got their wand with them?" Silence… silence… Aw, shit.

"Okay," Chip said reasonably. "We'll just find our way back to the door. We'll have to feel around in front of us with our han—BLACK, GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF MY BOOBS!"

"You said to feel around in front of us…" he said, his voice pure innocence. Which pretty much means he's guilty.

"I WAS STANDING BEHIND YOU."

"I got turned around?"

"Shut up and find the door."

"Found it!" Remus proclaimed. "Just a good shove, and…"

"We're locked in, aren't we?" Potter asked, voice dead.

"Yes, yes we are," Remus said in an ominous, creepy sort of voice. Silence…

"Firewhiskey, anyone?"

A/N: Based on a true story. … sorta