A/N: Hey, guys. I'm back again with a new chapter! Please check back in about half an hour if you reviewed Chapter 8, because I'm planning on editing this Author's Note to reply to your reviews last week. Hope you like this chapter, in the meantime.

RR: Okay, well, here goes my very first review responses (let's call them RRs for short, shall we?), and I hope that these will prove to you all that I do indeed read and cherish every single one of your replies:

.com: Oh, hello there :] I'm planning to keep writing this for a long, long time. As long as you guys still want to read it, that is, of course... But thank you for your support!

OMG-Bannana: Ahhh, thank you for your review! I'm glad you have something to look forward to- I'm excited for the wedding as well. And I'm even more glad to find that you like the speed of their relationship. Thanks again for your support!

Pickle Potter: Thank you very much! I hope you like it enough to keep reading.

HCB is 2 lazy 2 login: Hahaha, thank you for your encouragement. I appreciate it deeply. Your inner Moony... that's a clever one, actually. I've never heard it before. :]

poverina: You are just simply amazing. I can't believe you still read this.

Doctor Brittana Banana Who: That's quite a name, but I like it. Yes, he did!

Inatardis: Well, well, what can I say to you? You're wonderful. So do I; I can't stop calling her Mermie in my head.

Doctor Brittana Banana Who: I'm so happy to find that you're still reading.

aamandawinss: Oh, I'm so glad you like the fluff. It's always nice to know that someone out there appreciates it. That's funny, actually, I've been picturing the Heads' Rooms that way ever since I was eight, and we don't even actually know if they exist! But we must think alike or something... Yeah, I know, I'm going to do some serious editing over the summer. Personally, I feel more comfortable in this tone of writing, so I think I'm going to edit the first couple chapters so that the tone matches a bit more. I do hope you find that the story is getting better, though!

Thank you, also, to all those who have favorited and put this fanfiction on their alert list; I deeply appreciate your feedback and support.

Chapter 9: Stress and Relief

I walk into Transfiguration with a sense of foreboding in my stomach.

Actually, though, those could just be PMS cramps.

Either way, there's no denying that I'm terrified. McGonagall has decided that she needs to check up on her NEWT students' progress, and she thought the best way to do so would be to give us a practical quiz. She told us that she would be asking us to transfigure an object that would be different for each student.

I'm already having trouble with Transfiguration, and, quite simply, a Head Girl cannot afford to fail her classes. I stayed up until one o'clock last night, looking over my notes on every single spell we've ever learned. I was on beetle-into-button spells when I fell asleep, taking a nosedive into my open notebook.

I rub my nose thoughtfully. Still sort of sore.

McGonagall is sitting on her desk in Animagus form, as a cat. She's the reason I have a terrible fear of cats. It's mildly disturbing to think that the nice little cat you're petting could turn out to be your Transfiguration professor and your Head of House, isn't it?

A desk in the front row is missing, probably hidden behind that black curtain obscuring a corner of the room.

Professor McGonagall leaps down from her desk, transfiguring into a strict-looking woman with stern dark brown eyes and a thin line for a mouth. I never quite got used to the shock.

"Today," she begins, her black robes swirling around her as she paces around her desk and nearly petrifies every student in the front row, "as you know, you will be tested on the amount of information you have retained since elementary Transfiguration."

I whimper. It sounds bad enough already.

"When I call your name, you will walk up here and go behind this curtain, where I will be waiting for you. Please do not bring anything but your wand. Inside, you will find a desk, on which will be an object. I will tell you the name of another object to Transfigure it into. You will perform the correct spell, and you will then leave when I inform you that your test is over. Please note that, first of all, the curtain has a sound-proofing spell cast on it; you will not be able to hear anything on the other side of the curtain. Secondly, everyone has a different Transfiguration to perform; there is absolutely no way for you to help each other."

I gulp. What wouldn't give for a bit of help now?

Lily! You're Head Girl. Be ashamed for thinking such thoughts.

"Thirdly, I expect all of those outside the curtain to be studying and practicing their spells. They are not to be wasting their valuable class time." She looks around, her gaze resting on the Marauders in the far back corner of the room. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, Professor," we answer.

"Good. Get to work. Mr. Avery, please step up."

I turn to Marlene, who takes one glance at me and says, "Stop stressing. You'll be fine."

"No." I start to hyperventilate. "I can't remember the right spell for Transfiguring a mouse into a mushroom, and I don't remember how it's different from the one that involves a hamster and a hat. They're all getting confused now."

I frantically search through my notes and mutter spells under my breath to myself for the next fifteen minutes, trying to cram in as much as possible in the shortest time I had left.

"Ms. Evans," Professor McGonagall calls.

I rise from my seat, my mouth suddenly completely dry, wipe my sweaty hands on my robes, and walk unsteadily to the curtain. My hair, floating around my shoulders, tickles my neck, and I impatiently brush it away. I must have been pulling at it in my nervousness, tugging it out of the ponytail that I had put it in this morning.

When I finally reach the curtain and pull it back, McGonagall looks at me, and her expression softens. "Don't worry too much, Ms. Evans. I'm sure that you will do wonderfully. Please, take a seat." She waves a hand in the direction of the chair.

I'm not so sure of the same, I want to say.

Nevertheless, I manage to sit down on the edge of the chair, gripping the sides so hard my knuckles turn white.

McGonagall flicks her wand, and a frog appears in front of me. "Please, Ms. Evans, you will be turning this frog into a frozen ice cube."

I nearly stop breathing. What's the spell for that again—was it Hydrosolidificus amphibianus, or was it Amphibisolidificus hydro? Spells flutter across my brain, crossing each other and turning my head into a mess of heat and confusion.

"Ms. Evans?" Professor McGonagall says. "Are you all right?"

Merlin save me. "I'm all right, thank you, Professor," I tell her.

Well, it's a fifty-fifty shot, I decide. I point my wand at the frog.

"Ribbit," it croaks.

I screw my eyes up. "Hydrosolidificus amphibainus," I enunciate clearly, praying for a miracle.

When I open my eyes, for once in my life, the miracle actually occurs. Sitting in the frog's place is a very solid ice cube.

"Well," says McGonagall, "well done, Ms. Evans. Nothing to worry about at all. However, you might want to get some help and review sometimes, just to help you remember your spells correctly so that, by the time NEWTs roll around, you will be perfectly confident which spell to use."

I'm just thankful that I passed that test. I thank her and exit.

However, by the time I reach my seat and Marlene asks how it went, I'm not feeling so pleased about that test. After all, I may have passed it, but it's also the first time I've ever been completely confused about something academic.

What if it's not going to be the last time?

By the end of this day, I am utterly worn out. I am lying in bed, all my homework and textbooks scattered around me, chocolate wrappers strewn across my sheets.

When Aurelia comes into my bedroom portrait to tell me that Marlene is waiting outside to ask to come in, I ask her to tell Marlene that I am too exhausted and that I have patrol tonight. As soon as Aurelia leaves to relay my message to Marlene, I sigh. I have so much to do and no motivation to do it.

Sometimes, I have days where everything is just a mess, and I just want to lie in bed and read a novel. It's not that anything particularly awful happened that day. It's not even that nothing good happened. Quite simply, I just feel that everything is weighing down on me, and I can't do anything about it. Today is one of those days.

Instead of doing my homework, as I probably should be, considering the amount I have, I roll onto my side and watch the sunset from my window.

Aurelia comes into the picture frame again to tell me that James is outside, waiting for me to come down to dinner. She tells me that he's worried and that he's asking what I want to eat, saying that he can get it for me and bring it to my room.

How he's going to get the food is a mystery, but I'm too wrapped up in misery to care.

"Please tell him that I won't need anything, but thank him anyway, Aurelia," I say. "I just don't feel well. Tell him that I'll meet him for patrol, though."

James and I walk down the fourth floor corridor slowly. So far, we've found no couples snogging their hearts (and brains) out in broom cupboards, and we've caught no students sneaking out of their beds illicitly. It must be a record.

"You didn't eat tonight," James says to me.

"I know."

"Are you hungry?" he asks. "We can go get some food now, if you are."

"No, thank you."

"If you don't feel well, you can go back to our dorm," he tells me concernedly as we reach a staircase. "I can handle patrol alone, you know. It's okay. Besides, you look pale and tired. Get some rest, Lily. Go ahead."

"I'm fine."

James turns to me, giving me a queer look.

I cringe a little under his gaze. "What?"

"Nothing," he replies. "You just seem awfully quiet today."

It's true.

But I'm not about to admit that to James freaking Potter. Who does he think he is, anyway, to tell me how often I can and can't talk? It's my life, and I have the freedom to speak or not to speak. He should really just deal with it.

I glare at him. "Has it ever crossed your tiny little ant-brain that maybe I don't want to talk? And if I did, I wouldn't choose to talk to you, anyway."

A look of pain flashes across his face, and I almost feel guilty for a second.

But then my PMS hormones kick back in.

"I know that, Lily," he backtracks, "I was just wondering if you're okay."

This drives me over the edge.

"You were wondering I'm okay? Of course I'm okay! And besides," I scream at him, my shouts echoing down the empty corridor, "when do you, Mr. I'm-So-Perfect Potter, ever care if I'm okay? It didn't occur to you to find out if I was okay when you publicly asked me out fifty times a day. You didn't bother to figure out if I was okay when you bullied Severus. You didn't care if stupid little Lily Evans was okay when you embarrassed me in front of the school every freaking MINUTE!"

His eyes widen behind his glasses, making him look genuinely sorry, but, naturally, I tend to not care how sorry people look when I work myself into one of my Lily rages. "Look, Lily," he begins, "I've changed. I'm diff—"

"Oh!" I laugh hysterically. "You've changed! You're different! Tell me something I haven't heard before. If only you changed! As much as you may claim to have changed, you will always be arrogant"—I stamp my foot—"insufferable"—stamp—"James Potter!" I shove him with both hands, pushing with all my might, expecting him to slam against the wall.

But he doesn't. He doesn't even flinch. He just stands there, holding my wrists against his chest, looking down at me sadly.

I can't take it anymore. I crumple against him, and he winds up just holding me. And then the weight of everything—my hormones, my misery, my anger, my stress, my life, even—just hits me, and I start sobbing like a silly little girl into the front of James Potter's shirt.

Any normal guy would probably either:

A) stand there, motionless and confused.

B) peel me off of him, looking disgusted, and wring out his shirt.

C) tell me to go to the hospital wing.

D) do some combination of all three.

But who ever said that James Potter is remotely normal?

Instead of doing anything of the sort, he wraps his arms tighter around me, leaning his head on top of mine. "Shh, Lils, don't cry," he whispers into my hair. "I'm here."

Of course, his use of my pet name just makes me cry harder.

I'm sure his shirt must be sopping wet now.

Damn him. Whydoes he always have to be so perfectly nice to me?

"Lils," he murmurs again, "don't cry, please. You can tell me what's wrong."

I hiccup, burying my face deeper into his chest. "I—I don't even know. I just have so much to do. All of our teachers gave us so much homework, and I'm confusing my spells in Transfiguration—which has never happened to me before—and I don't think I can finish and I can't afford to let my grades slip. I'm probably the worst Head Girl Hogwarts has ever had—I know I am, actually—and I just want to make my parents proud—"

Blast my overactive tear ducts.

"—and I'm a failure. And then there's my sister's wedding invitation that came this week and it was just the last straw. I mean, Petunia was always"—hiccup—"my best friend. We were so close, and now—now our relationship is so damaged that I thought she was just bragging and over-exaggerating all the times she talked about her future husband, whom I've never even met. I—"

Will I ever stop crying? I'm such a pathetic human being.

James starts patting me gently on the back, which I should probably find creepy. Strangely, though, I find it comforting.

"—thought she just wanted attention, because it's one of the only things she is better than me at. For Merlin's sake, I don't even have a fucking boyfriend, and I'm only three years younger than Tuney, who's getting married already. And not to mention the fact that she didn't even make me, her only sister, a bridesmaid. She probably only invited me because my parents insisted."

James quietly places his hand on the back of my head, pulling me closer into his chest. "Lily, first of all, about homework, I know it's a ton, and McGonagall is teaching us a lot all at once. The only reason I'm passing that course is because the Marauders and I have had some, er, prior experience with the subject."

I tearfully glance up at him, intrigued. "Like what?"

"Just… experience," he repeats, looking guilty about something. "So, anyway, as I was saying, I know you're better than me at everything—"

"Not at Transfiguration," I interrupt, suddenly feeling charitable.

He grins cockily at me before continuing. "—so if you ever need help with anything, especially Transfiguration, I'm here." He pauses thoughtfully. "You know, we don't have anything to do this Saturday besides making plans for the Hogsmeade trips. If you feel that spending a day with me isn't a complete waste of your time, we could do some extra Transfiguration just for fun."

I simply cannot force myself to reject that offer. "You're not a waste of time, and I… I'd love to. I think it'd help me a lot."

He hugs me again, awkwardly. "And, Lils, if my opinion counts for anything, I think you're the best Head Girl Hogwarts has ever had the honor of having. I know Dumbledore thinks so too. You're, by far, the best role model the students could ask for. I don't even think it's possible for you to be bad at anything. I've never met your parents, but if they're at all normal, they probably can't even express to you how proud they are."

I give him a watery smile.

"As for your sister," he continues, "I'm sure she still loves you, deep inside. I don't understand how anyone who has met you couldn't love you, actually. You're the best person I've ever met, and the reason you don't have a boyfriend right now isn't that you're not good enough for them, but that none of them are even vaguely close enough to deserve you."

"Wait," I say, turning my face, burying it in his water-logged shirt, "I forgot. There's more: there's you. You. You are so bloody nice to me, even when I'm a complete bitch—"

"Lily," James cuts in, "don't call yourself that."

"—to you. You know, I don't even remember why I was so mad at you. I don't even think I was actually mad at you; you didn't say or do anything wrong. I was just frustrated with everything, and you happened to be the only person around. I'm just so used to hating you that I was annoyed for no apparent reason. I mean, don't you see what a horrible person I am?"

"No," he frowns.

But I don't get sidetracked that easily.

"I can't even control my temper, and I said all those horrible things to you, none of which I meant, really, and then I cried on you and ruined your shirt, when I should actually be on my knees right now begging for your forgiveness. I'm such a mess, and I should have been sorry that I'm making you deal with all this, but I didn't even apologize to you."

"You didn't have to apologize to me for anything," James interjects.

I ignore him. I'm rather good at that.

"I shoved you, and you didn't even do or say anything back. You're always so perfect to me, and it'd be so much easier if you were terrible and easy to hate, but you're not! It makes life so much more complicated, and, look, now I'm mad at you for being so damn good all the time. Don't you see how awful I am?"

Which just sets off another stream of tears.

But James doesn't suddenly experience an epiphany and realize how terrible I am.

He just chuckles, his laughter rumbling against my cheek. "No, I don't. In fact, I'm glad. This is what makes you human." He checks his watch. "Patrol is almost over, and you need to sleep. Come on, let's go back to our dorm."

I pull away a little, and he helps me stand straight, as he says, "Don't worry about your homework; we can do that together tomorrow morning. We'll get it done, I promise."

I sniffle. "I hope so."

He produces a tissue for me, one arm still around me. "Oh, and one more thing, Lils," he says as he hands it to me.

"Yeah?"

"Don't apologize for anything. You don't need to. We're friends, aren't we? This is what friends are for, after all."

Well, James Potter, as nice as you may be (occasionally) and as weepy as I may be at this moment, I wouldn't go so far as to call you a friend.

But I'm learning to control my temper.

Instead, I just sniffle again.

He can take that any way he wants.

When I am finally lying in bed that night, the whole depressing reality of my life right now crashes down on me at last.

All I can think about is how I have definitely sunk to the dregs of humanity. For heaven's sake, I just cried on James Potter, whom I have hated more than anyone else in the world for about, oh, seven years, give or take a few months, not to mention the mildly troubling fact that he now knows more of my secrets than Marlene, my best friend, does. Dear Merlin, how low must I have sunk to seek comfort from my worst enemy?

I don't even know how I'm going to live with the shame.

A/N: How was it? Is the story getting better or worse? (I certainly hope it's getting better, anyway...) Also, do you like the review responses, or are they just annoying? Should I continue with them? Please let me know.

And I'm begging you to review! Reviews are life, oxygen, water, food. And I can't tell you how much I love food. Okay, I'm getting off-topic now, but please do review! I appreciate it a ton. Lots of love to you all!

P.S. I'm taking APs this week, so to all you AP test takers this year, I wish you the very best of luck!