Title: Commentarius
Author: B.C. Daily
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. This writing style belongs to Meg Cabot and all of the publishers and editors of The Princess Diaries series. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: Greetings all, and how fair thee? ;) Back again with chapter eleven. We've almost reached the present! This was the chapter that never reached this site because it was deleted after chapter ten, so celebrate if you haven't read it yet. It's actually a lot better than I remember. When I first went to go edit it, I was like 'Uh-oh, this one's going to need work." But it didn't, not really. So hopefully, you enjoy. It has one of my very favorite titles. Enjoy and review to let me know what you think!! –Bee

"Why can't the ant and the caterpillar just get along? One eats grass, the other eats caterpillars…Oh, I see now."

–Jack Handey


Very Very Late, 7th Year Girls' Dormitory
Observant Lily: Day 15
Total Observations: 101

One simple chat isn't going to make this all better. I mean it. Mac can't just come on over, tell me his little sad, apologetic bit and then expect it to all be all right again. It's just not going to happen. It doesn't work that way. It can't. It won't.

And, okay, I know it may seem like I'm a lot less cross at the moment, but I'm so not. Less cross, I mean. This loss of crossness is obviously just on account of the fact that it is very late and I am extremely fatigued. Not to mention the fact that I have far too many other things on my mind, including the predicament with my new, possibly love-stricken mate, James. I'm simply far too busy dealing with my other problems to be cross. It's not at all because of what Mac said. Our little talk didn't affect anything. It really didn't.

Yeah. Definitely.

Stupid Mac and his stupid talks...

Wednesday, October 1st, Breakfast in the Great Hall
Observant Lily: Day 16
Total Observations: 103

Things to Do Today

1) Complete Potions assignment that I did not get to finish last night because of bloody Mac and his surprise appearance.
2) Find missing Herbology textbook. I know I had it in class yesterday, but after that, who knows? What is with me and losing my textbooks anyway? Seriously. It's not even funny.
3) Primp for Amos meeting at 6:30. Must look my very best for the future husband.
4) Take a look at those Transfiguration notes James gave me. Practice and studying makes perfect—or as close to perfect as I'm going to get, anyway.
5) Eat.
6) Sleep.
7) Breathe.
8) Continue to ignore the fact that Emma is supposed to be released from the Hospital Wing tomorrow. It doesn't matter to me. It doesn't matter at all.

Later, Still At Breakfast in the Great Hall
Observant Lily: Day 16
Total Observations: 104

The Gryffindor Quidditch team has an early morning practice today. I know this on account of Grace's rather loud grumblings this morning about 'mad McGonagall' and her 'stupid, prattish, follows-McGonagall's-instructions-like-the-Nazis-followed-Hitler-and-look-how-that-turned-out Captain'. Also, because James and Marley are not here. Therefore, it looks like I'll be eating breakfast alone today. Not that that is necessarily a bad thing, I suppose. It gives me ample time without interruption to finish my incomplete Potions assignment, after all. But it is rather lonely sitting here all by myself. Maybe I'll just—

"Hiya, Lily."

Hiya? Who...

"Oh!" Well, look who it is! "Hey, Thomas."

It's my very good (and very very attractive, though very very young) third-year mate, Mr. Thomas Dunn! What a pleasant surprise!

Thomas smiles and politely asks, "Can you pass me that ketchup there, please?"

Oh, yeah. He likes that ketchup rubbish as well, doesn't he? I'd forgotten about that.

"Sure," I say, reaching across the table to grab the bottle—which is still present at the Gryffindor table, even though James is not—and hand it over to Thomas.

"Thanks," he says with grin. Then, noticing the lack of argument occurring during this recent transaction, nods his head towards the empty spaces around me and asks, "Where's Marlene and the Ketchup Loon?"

Ketchup Loon? Oh, this kid cracks me up!

I laugh and explain that both Marley and the 'Ketchup Loon' are currently at Quidditch practice.

"Quidditch?" Thomas says, his eyebrows furrowing. "So you're eating alone?"

I shrug. "I suppose."

Thomas instantly shakes his head at this. "Nonsense!" he says, plopping himself down in the seat next to me. "You can't sit alone. I'll eat breakfast with you."

"Oh, Thomas, you don't have to—"

"I want to. Wait one second, I'll be right back..."

Then he rushed off back to the Hufflepuff table, where he is now retrieving his plate and it looks like a few mates as well!

Well, I guess I won't be eating breakfast alone, after all!

Even Later, Potions
Observant Lily: Day 16
Total Observations: 105

You know what? I think that ever since that little letter escapade, my Potions skills and/or confidence has skyrocketed to an astounding level. Seriously. I don't know how I have all of this skill all of a sudden, but it's there. Like this Virnaline Potion I've just brewed? It has to be the most perfect shade of blue there ever was—all light, but deep, with just a tint of purple, just like the textbook shows! Moreover, I still have twenty-five minutes left in class as well! No one else is finished, just me—oh, wait. Snape's finished as well. But no matter. Mine is far better than his is, anyway. I think.

And you know what's even madder about this whole thing? I achieved a perfect potion while also having plenty of things around to distract me. I mean, I have Amos, my potential husband and the future father of my children, sitting just across the room (looking quite brilliant, if I do say so myself). Then there's James, my new mate who just may be sitting in his seat behind me fantasizing about our future wedding, also here. Not to mention that Mac's also seated a little ways off, the empty seat next to him a constant reminder of my malfunctioning social life. You'd definitely think that with rubbish surroundings like these, a girl just wouldn't be able to concentrate, but I am apparently just so talented that I can. Concentrate, I mean. I think it's safe to say that I am obviously just so tremendously brilliant...fabulously brilliant...fantastically brilliant...

"There will be no writing in my classroom when there are Potions to be brewed, Miss Evans."

Psh. Silly, silly Professor Abbott. Does she not see the magnificent potion residing in my cauldron?

"I've finished, Professor," I tell her.

Abbott does not look like she believes me. She really should—

Oh, blast. She's heading over here now.

Later, Still in Potions
Observant Lily: Day 16
Total Observations: 106

I should definitely be offended by the absolute shock Professor Abbott has just displayed at seeing my perfect potion. Seriously. She was startled dumb. I should be completely insulted by this, but I'm not. I mean, even I'm a bit surprised at its blinding perfection. So who can really blame her?

When I saw her walking towards me, I'm not going to lie and say that I wasn't nervous, even though I knew my potion was brilliant. I think it's just the way she holds herself that intimidates me so much—that stick-straight posture, those narrowed eyes, that suspicious sneer. Even if she doesn't fail me when I insult her and likes that I have some backbone, it really doesn't make her any less frightening. And it didn't help either that we had now caught the attention of the entire class—who I'm sure was very much anticipating another one of their Head Girl's very embarrassing moments.

So naturally I was feeling a bit antsy when Abbott had finally reached my desk and was looking down at me like I'd just told her I was growing another head rather than that I had completed my potion.

"Hmmm..." She stirred my potion around carefully, a doubtful look still etched clearly on her face. She stopped stirring. I think I stopped breathing. Slowly, as if prolonging the whole thing to make me wither in my seat, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small tube filled with a light pink liquid I couldn't name. She removed the cork from the top of the tube. "Let's just see about this, shall we?"

I really wasn't sure if I wanted to see.

Nevertheless, she unceremoniously dropped the contents of the tube into my cauldron.

It began to bubble.

Oh, damn. Was it supposed to be doing that?

"Interesting," Abbott said flatly, revealing nothing concerning whether or not 'interesting' meant 'right' or 'get out of my classroom, you've just failed my class'. She put the spoon back into my cauldron and began stirring again. As she mixed, the bubbles stopped, but they began again when she'd stopped stirring. Taking another tube from her robes—this one a bright orange—Abbott uncorked that one and dumped it into my cauldron as well. The bubbling stopped.

"Well, well, well," Abbott said, grinning at me mechanically. I wasn't sure whether her smiling was a good thing or a bad thing, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know either. What had that stuff been? Why had my potion bubbled? Was it supposed to bubble? Abbott remained silent, thoroughly enjoying my nerves, I'm sure. A few seconds later, unable to take it anymore, I spoke up.

"Professor?"

For a few moments after I'd spoken, it seemed almost as if Abbot hadn't heard me. She stood there silently, her lips pressed into a thin, straight line. I wasn't sure whether I should try to question her again, or just wait for her to make a move. I didn't have to wait long to make that decision however, as a few seconds later, Professor Abbott nodded her head towards the supply closet and quietly said to me, "Take a spare jar and store your potion, Evans." The line that had been her lips curved into a small smile. "A perfect Virnaline Potion, Miss Evans. Well done."

I sat gaping at her like a fish out of water. A perfect potion? A perfect potion? I mean, I'd known it was perfect but…

Abbott turned around and headed back towards her desk. About halfway there, she turned back to me and went, "Potions work only in my classroom, Evans. Your assignment is on the board. Complete that for the remainder of the class."

Still not really finding my words, I nodded furiously and sputtered out a, "Yes, Professor."

Then Abbott returned to her desk.

So do you see? Do you see how brilliant I've suddenly become? Even Abbott was impressed! I mean, she clearly sees that I am not doing my assignment as she previously requested, but instead of yelling at me for writing in here as she normally would, she's just pretending not to notice. That's how impressed she is. How brilliant is that?

Lily Evans: Potions Master.

It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

Still Later, Lunch
Observant Lily: Day 16
Total Observations: 106

"Handy Potions work, there, Evans."

I looked up over my shoulder, grabbing the last of my books as the bell ending Potions class finally rang, much to everyone inside's relief. Leaning casually against the doorway of the classroom, the rest of the class already out the door and on their way to lunch, James grinned as he waited for me to finish gathering my things.

"Oh, er, thanks," I muttered uncomfortably as I joined him in the doorway, pulling the strap of my rucksack farther up my shoulder. I tried not to notice that he had been the one to wait for me. A bit further up, I could see Grace and the rest of the Marauders already walking down the corridor, talking in rather loud tones about whose potion had turned out the worst (much to his delight, Peter's orange, slimy concoction was in the lead so far). The explanation was simple, really. They were obviously just far too engrossed in their conversation to wait for me. It meant nothing that James had opted to stay behind. It's not as if he did it purposely or anything. He was probably just getting ready to leave, saw me fumbling with my books over in the corner and thought, 'Well, as her new mate, I suppose I'm rather obligated to wait for her. Especially since she doesn't seem to have many these days. Mates, I mean. So I should wait for her.' He didn't have any ulterior motives in this. He wasn't thinking, 'Oh, joy! Oh, rapture! I shall get to walk alone with my lady fair!"

He just wasn't. Because he doesn't think of me like that anymore.

We started to make our way down the corridor, joining the rest of our classmates on our way to the Great Hall.

"The potion was rather easy, though," I said, laughing uneasily, though if it was because of the compliment or because I was still uncomfortable about the fact that he had waited, I wasn't sure. "So I suppose that's why—"

"Easy?" James choked out, cutting off the rest of my sentence. "It took me ages just to get that thing in the right bloody colour zone and you're saying it was easy? Are you mad? Did you not see the peculiar shade of green in most of the cauldrons in there? Or the unidentified lumps? You're practically the only one who did it right, Lily! Did you see how much yours bubbled? It was brilliant!"

I tried to hold back my blush as much as I possibly could, but knew I'd failed miserably. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I silently wondered if James still thought my blush was pretty, even when I was as red as a tomato. "There were plenty of others who did it right as well," I argued weakly, trying to ignore the little voice in my head that kept yelling, 'He waited for you! He's complimenting you! What more evidence do you need?'. I swallowed hard, pushing those voices away. "And besides, Snape's bubbled far more than mine did."

James sneered in distaste. "Forget about Snivellus. He's got a deal with the devil. You can't compare yourself to that."

I rolled my eyes. "That's not very nice, James."

"The truth usually isn't."

I threw him a look. "He doesn't have a deal with the devil, you prat. What's with you blokes anyway? Why can't you just get along?"

James cocked an eyebrow. "What? Like you and Lizzie Saunders get along?"

Ugh, again with the Lizzie? I tried not to cringe. "That's different," I told him. "We're girls. We're supposed to be like that."

"Because you're all mad."

Very very true. Also, very very sad.

"Well, who says that's such a bad thing?"

James snorted. "Anyone who has to live with you."

I nudged him in the arm. "Don't be an arse."

James grinned and mockingly replied in a tone rather exaggeratingly similar to my own, "We're blokes. We're supposed to be like that."

Ha. Funny. Clever. Not.

"And you say I'm mad," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"On the contrary," James pointed out. "You say you're mad. It's your excuse for everything, you know. 'Rubbish at Transfiguration? Oh, it's because I'm mad,' 'Oh, right! That Defense assignment! I'm too mad to remember anything,' 'The apocalypse has arrived? God, why am I so mad?'. I just simply choose not to correct you."

"I don't blame everything on my madness," I retorted, though really, I probably do. That and my stupidity. Because, really, that's what it is. If I wasn't so mad and/or stupid, I probably wouldn't get myself into half of the completely ridiculous predicaments I always seem to find myself in.

"Sure you do," James told me again. "'It's because you have a complex."

A what?

What the bloody hell was he on about now?

"What do you mean complex? I don't have any sort of complex!"

James simply grinned at my outrage. "Ah, but you do," he insisted, nodding his head thoughtfully. I glared as he finally explained. "You've got this inferiority complex that runs a mile deep, Evans. Merlin only knows why, but for some reason you seem to think that everyone is better than you are. You've got a serious lack of self-confidence, Lily. A serious, serious lack of it, indeed."

My jaw dropped.

An inferiority complex? A serious lack of self-confidence?

What?!

"I didn't notice until this year," he continued, completely ignoring my shocked expression. "Maybe it's newly developed, maybe it's not—Merlin knows you never seemed to lack any confidence before—but now...I can see right through your suave facade, Lily Evans. You need learn some self-confidence. It's all about the self confidence."

"Y-you're wrong," I answered automatically, my voice stuttering for some reason. "I'm not. I have confidence. I radiate confidence. I...I just don't, all right?"

"Oh, yeah?" James challenged, arching an eyebrow. "What about just before? I told you you'd made a brilliant potion and what did you do?"

"Well, I—"

"You instantly started talking about how Snape's was better!" James shook his head and threw me a pointed look. "When you can't even take a simple compliment, you know you've got a problem."

For a moment, I couldn't answer. I just stood there, my mouth hanging open, the shock and embarrassment rushing through my veins.

I don't have self-confidence issues. I'm just realistic. Is there a problem with being realistic?

"I don't lack any confidence," I insisted again, my face hot. "And I can take a compliment!"

James snorted. "You turn as red as anything the second anyone says something nice about you, Evans, then mutter on about something else. How is that taking a compliment?"

Erm...it's...well, it's...

Oh, bugger.

"Well, that—modesty!" I sputtered, inspiration coming quickly, but I had the feeling too late. "There's nothing wrong with being modest!"

"You're far past modest," James told me, not missing a beat. I tried to think of a clever retort, tried to regain that bit of suaveness that I knew was hidden somewhere deep inside of me, but try as I might, nothing came. There was nothing I could think to say that would get me out of the hole that I'd dug myself into with this conversation.

But the thing is, I don't have a complex. I mean, yes, I have my moments of self-doubt, but what normal, seventeen-year-old girl doesn't? And all of it's the truth! All of my self-doubt, I mean. It's totally one-hundred percent well founded. And while yes, I do tend to turn a bit red when people say certain things about me, that's only because of my redhead genetics. None of that equals a complex. It only equals a normal, redheaded teenage girl.

I think.

"Boost up that confidence, Evans," James said again as we entered the Great Hall. "Maybe then things might begin to make sense again."

Even Later, Charms
Observant Lily: Day 16
Total Observations: 107

What is he on about, 'maybe then things might begin to make sense again'? What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?

I wish people would just stop talking in code. Seriously. I have a hard enough time translating English properly, I don't need any of this 'think-about-what-I'm-saying' bollocks. You pretty much have to spell these things out for me. I'm just not that intelligent, people.

And when I say that I'm not intelligent, it's because it's the truth, and not because my "complex" is forcing me to say it. Because I don't have a complex.

Oh, bother. I don't have time to be depicting codes and defending my confidence. Does no one realise that in only a matter of hours, I will be meeting with the love of my life for an Ancient Runes study session?

How easily we forget these things when we are busy defending ourselves!

Even Even Later, 7th Year Girls' Dormitory
Observant Lily: Day 16
Total Observations: 107

Preparing For a Study Session with Mr. Perfect:
An Inside Look at the Dressing Process Lily Evans Must Go Trough In Order to Look Decent

Step One) The Proper Trousers

Now, normally I don't like to toot my own horn, but I have to say that I have this one pair of jeans that makes my bum look incredibly fabulous. No joke. It looks perfect. Even from under my robes you can tell how perfect they make my bottom half look. They're that good. However, it is, of course, only this one pair that makes my bum look this way, so said jeans are only taken out and/or used for very very important occasions. Like this studying session, for example. A prime example indeed.

Search for the Perfect Trousers: Complete

-----------------------------------------

Step Two) The Perfect Top

There are two abilities a top must have in order to be considered The Perfect Top. Ability number one is, of course, the ability to make you look far skinner than you actually are or really have the right to be. This ability is often a hard one to master when taking into consideration the slight bump in your stomach on account of all the rice you eat, but The Perfect Top can always pull it off rather nicely.

Ability number two has something to do with a region a bit north of your slight bump in the belly, and actually has to do with another pair of bumps located on your chestal area. I am, of course, referring to what are commonly known as the female breasts. Now my breasts, they're actually (luckily) existent. I mean, they're not huge or anything, but I'm pretty sure that you could spot them rather well on a foggy day. However, in TPT, my breasts—any breasts, really—are made to look rather like my bum in The Proper Trousers—perfect. And blokes, they like that. Perfect breasts, I mean. So TPT is often times pulled out only in the company of a rather fine looking bloke like, let's say, Amos Diggory.

Now me, I have three Perfect Tops. That's right, three.

Top #1) a green, wool jumper that is both slimming and enhancing in all the proper places
Top #2) a blue, silk camisole, both very sexy and very useful
Top #3) a simple, white top with a bit of lace at the top. Very causal, yet very good.

Now the only trouble is actually choosing one of these Perfect Tops.

Hm... well, let's just see, shall we?

Top #1 is, while very perfect, a jumper, and would probably be more appropriate for a trip to Hogsmeade in chilly weather rather than a late-night study session in the library. I mean, I sweat enough as it is already when I'm around Amos, I really don't need a heat-containing jumper to add anymore to that. And Top #2, while also very perfect, is actually a bit on the—how do I put this—er... slaggish side. That's more like a seventh-date sort of top than a second-study-session type. My mum always says that a true woman always leaves a bit of mystery when concerning a bloke, and Top #2...well, let's just say that it doesn't leave much to the imagination. And I certainly don't want Amos to think I'm loose or anything like that, so that pretty much takes care of Top #2 as well.

This leaves Top #3—simple, yet stunning. It gives just enough support with just enough slimmage in all the right places. And possibly most brilliant of all, it goes absolutely perfectly with the chosen Perfect Trousers.

TPT Search: Complete.

-----------------------------------------

Step Three) Height or Comfort? The Search for the Perfect Shoe

There are two types of shoes in the world. The first type contains those shoes that are made supremely for your comfort. Under this category, you have your trainers, your sandals, your slippers and your low, comfortable flats. The second type of shoes are those shoes which are created merely to enhance your appearance without any consideration whatsoever of the damage they may cause your feet. This category includes your heels, your strappy sandals, and pretty much any other shoe that after only a half-hour of wearage, creates large, bleeding blisters that burn and fester for days and days after you wear them. However, usually these blisters are more than worth the pain, because category two shoes are guaranteed to give you a height, a poise and a sophistication that you just can't get with a pair of ratty old trainers.

However, I myself have never really been a huge fan of category two shoes. Grace is, and she has about a million in thousands and thousands of different colours, but I'm a rather big baby when it comes to dealing with pain, so festering blisters just don't do it for me.

Plus, who wears heels to the library? I want to look brilliant, not mad.

So I suppose I'll just be going with my everyday trainers. I'll save the heels (and the pain) for an actual date.

Shoe Selection: Complete

-----------------------------------------

Step Four) Robes: To Wear or Not to Wear?

Robes are commonly worn both in and out of classes at this fine establishment we like to call Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They are the wizarding equivalent of an everyday jumper for Muggles. If I don't wear them, I'll probably look rather odd and out of place, but if I do wear them, they might cover up a bit of my spectacular outfit. However, that wouldn't be all bad, I suppose. I mean, I don't want to look like I tried too hard, anyway, now do I? I want to radiate causal beauty and cool confidence, not desperation and far too much effort. It would not do for me to look ridiculous. Therefore, robes are a must. My thin black ones will go nicely with the ensemble, I think.

Robes Decision: Complete.

-----------------------------------------

Step Five) Put It All Together and Analyze Yourself

Perfect Trousers: Check.
TPT: Check.
Comfortable Shoes: Check.
Casual Robes: Check
Overall Appearance: Brilliant.

Later, 7th Year Girls' Dormitory
Observant Lily: Day 16
Total Observations: 108

Observation #108) When one looks as amazingly spiffy as I do right now, it's easy to say that they don't have any sort of inferiority complex.

Now, off to see my love!

Just Before Amos Study Session, Library
Observant Lily: Day 16
Total Observations: 109

You know, I'm not as nervous about this whole thing as I was last week. Seriously, I'm not. I mean, okay, there's still a bit of palm sweatage going on, but other than that, I'm pretty much fine. This may be because:

A) Amos insisted he's "looking forward to it"
B) Last time went off wonderfully. Even when I'd say something entirely stupid and extremely Lily-ish, nothing went wrong. Amos is just so perfect that it doesn't matter.
C) I look so good.
D) Even though he compliments me, and flirts with me, and possibly aches for me as he tries to fall asleep at night, for now, all is well in Jamesville. And when I say 'all is well', I really mean that he's not cross with me. We always seem to be cross with one another for some reason. However, presently, we're not. Which is good. Even if, like I said, he could be currently suffering from heartbreak at my firm attachment to Mr. Diggory. Not that I'm saying he is, because he's probably not—is most likely not—but he could be. If he still fancies me and all. Which I don't think he does.

So everything is rather brilliant. In fact, things are going so brilliantly that I know something really bad is going to have to happen really soon. My horrible karma would never let this good luck go on much further. My luck has officially reached its limit. After this, everything is pretty much going to go downhill. And now I'm going to meet Amos.

I'm going to fall flat on my face on my way to the table.

I'm going to get sick and vomit all over him.

I'm going to forget everything, tell Amos all the wrong answers, and cause us both to fail.

Something is going to go wrong. I can feel it in my bones. Things are just going too well right now.

But, you know what? Everything will be okay, because now I'm prepared for the inevitable burst of something bad. Totally and completely prepared.

Bad karma, bring it on.

Just Before Tutoring, Library
Observant Lily: Day 16
Total Observations: 111

By the time I was eleven years old, I had pretty much given up hope of ever being a normal, everyday girl. And really, who could blame me? I had stopped believing that it was 'just a coincidence' when things suddenly broke when I got angry (which, surprise surprise, was rather often) and when my neighbor, Billy Rodness's, hair would continuously change colour whenever he picked me last during our neighborhood football matches. I mean, no one could ever really pinpoint the incidents to me, but when Billy always picked pretty (but useless) Sadie Foster over me towards the end of the football drafts, and I began calling him a bloody rotten blueberry in my head, it hardly seemed an accident when Billy's hair suddenly took on an odd, bluish hue. Then there were the times when my completely unfair teacher in school would purposely give me the most difficult questions, and just moments later, right before I was due to answer, his chalk would abruptly explode right in his face. Once again, no one could possibly blame me—after all, I had been sitting at my desk the entire time! But I knew—just knew—that somehow, someway, it was me. It had to be.

As July of my eleventh year rolled around, I was preparing for another grueling term at our local school where it seemed especially hard to keep my abnormalities under wraps. It was on one bright summer morning while I was seated with my family at our kitchen table eating breakfast that we first heard it.

"Now what on earth was that?"

This came from my mum, who had suddenly stopped eating her porridge, the spoon paused halfway to her mouth, as she turned her head curiously towards the open kitchen windows. Following her lead, the rest of us shifted our gazes in that direction as well.

Hoot. Hoot.

Automatically, we all leaned closer to the window. Petunia sat up rigidly, dropping her toast down onto her plate, her eyes blinking curiously.

"Why, that sounded like...like an owl!"

Yes, an owl. That's exactly what it had sounded like. But it couldn't be an owl. What on earth would an owl be doing flying about the Evans' Household? We had to be hearing things. It was most definitely not an owl.

That's what we'd all decided, anyway, until a few seconds later...

"Oh...my..."

Slowly, Mum lifted her finger towards the window. One by one, the rest of us turned to see what she was pointing at. Petunia screamed. Dad was silent. My eyes widened to the size of saucers.

Perched right there on our kitchen windowsill, sat a large, tawny, brown owl.

I think it was safe to say that no one was breathing properly at that time.

"Look there!" Petunia gasped, gesturing frantically towards the owl's foot once the initial shock had worn off. "It's got...it's got a letter, Mum! A letter!"

All eyes instantly fell down to the small letter that had indeed been carefully tied onto the bird's left claw. My mouth fell open. My dad put down his paper. No one moved from the table.

"Should we...get the letter, Jon?"

My mum looked at a total loss as she glanced uncertainly at my father, obviously hoping that he would come up with some sort of explanation. My dad is like that—very intelligent and all. If anyone could come up with a reason why an unidentified owl with a letter attached to its foot was currently sitting on our windowsill, it was Jon Evans. But even my bright and brilliant dad looked as lost and confused as the rest of us.

"I don't know, Caroline." Dad fumbled with the glasses sitting atop his nose, a nervous habit he has when he's thinking. "Maybe we should ring round the bobbies? A lost owl flying around Surrey can't mean anything good..."

As my parents continued to argue about whether or not to call the authorities, and my sister proceeded to eye the large owl with obvious fright and uneasiness, I found myself oddly compelled to the strange bird—the soft, strong feathers; the kind, yet calculating eyes; the mysterious letter with the peculiar emerald ink...

Before I even knew what I was doing, I had risen from my seat and was carefully making my way over to where the owl was perched. All lost in their own thoughts and conversations, my family hadn't even noticed that I'd gotten up until I had reached close enough to the bird to enter my sister's line of vision.

"Lily! Lily, what are you doing?"

I stopped, but only for a moment. My parents started in as well, their voices panicked, but I kept walking. I couldn't stop. That letter...

"Lily Christine Evans, you stay away from that bird!"

"Don't move, Lily! Just stop and slowly start to walk back! Slowly!"

"Oh, please don't die, Lily! I'd just hate for you to die!"

I zoned in closer to the windowsill, my heart thumping wildly in my chest, drowning out the screams and warnings from my family behind me. When I stood just a meter away from the owl, I suddenly jumped back, startled, as the bird amazingly extended the leg containing the letter towards me. A sudden thrill shot through my stomach as I once again came close enough to the owl to untie the letter from its foot. Slowly, yet carefully, and with my family's whispered words of worry going off behind me, I grabbed the letter.

"What does it say, Lily? Who is it for?"

I stared at the emerald writing on the front of the envelope, completely mystified. It took me a few seconds to even acknowledge Petunia's question.

"I...it's...it's for me."

As soon as the shock finally wore off, I rushed back over to where my family was sitting, hardly able to keep the thrill and excitement out of my voice as I happily waved the letter in front of my parents. "Look!" I cried, giving the envelope to my father. "Look at this, Dad! 'Miss Lily Evans, First Bedroom on the Right, 422 Glytthingham Place'. Isn't that the most peculiar address you've ever seen? First bedroom on the right?"

My father fumbled with his glasses once more, looking very uncomfortable with the address on the front of the letter. "But who is it from?"

Obviously curious about that as well, I flipped the envelope over to the back, where a crescent shield served as the seal for the letter.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Hogwarts School of what?"

I pulled my finger through the seal, ripping the letter open. With shaking hands, I slowly pulled out the several pieces of parchment that were included in the envelope.

Dear Miss Evans, the first one began,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

And the rest, as they say, is history.

It was the greatest moment of my entire life.

Until now.

HE ASKED ME OUT!!!!!

AMOS DIGGORY ASKED ME OUT!!

Hogwarts letter, shmogwarts letter, I am now set to go ON A DATE TO HOGSMEADE WITH MY FUTURE HUSBAND!! HOW BRILLIANTLY FABULOUS IS THAT?!

Oh, Merlin, I don't think I'm breathing properly. Seriously. Two seconds from now, all this celebrating will be for nothing because I'm just going to keel over and die of a happiness overdose. Or a heart attack. Or an extreme lack of oxygen into my lungs. Whichever comes first.

My heart is beating so fast it feels like it's going to jump right out of my chest. And my hands... well, let's just put it this way: I now have enough sweat to build my own private moat. But you know what? Every little sweat drop was worth it. Every single one of them, because I am now THE HAPPIEST GIRL IN ALL OF ENGLAND—no!—IN ALL THE WORLD!!!

Today is, without a doubt the best, most brilliant, most bloody fantastic night of my ENTIRE LIFE!

And just think, when the night started off, I was absolutely certain that the bloke wanted nothing to do with me! Seriously, I did! I mean, I know he said he was looking forward to it and all, but when he first came in, I thought for a second that perhaps I had perceived that whole thing the wrong way. I thought, 'maybe he'd said it sarcastically? Was that it?'. I mean, what was I supposed to think when Amos came in, completely ignoring the immense amount of effort I'd put into my perfect appearance, sat down in the seat next to me and very casually said:

"Listen, do you think we could move a bit quickly tonight? The only time I could book the pitch was at 7:25, and the team really needs the workout. You don't mind, right?"

Yeah. That was it.

No, "Hello," no "how are you," no "great to be here, you look really nice." I mean, I wasn't expecting a marriage proposal or anything, but is it so much to hope for a greeting? Any sort of greeting? Even if it's just a quick, 'hiya'? I really don't think it is. But instead, all I got was excuses. And Quidditch excuses, nonetheless.

And I tried not to be bitter about it, really I did. I mean, I smiled and I nodded and did the whole, "yeah, of course, no problem," bit with a perfectly serene disposition, but it's hard to ignore the fact that your future husband had just chose Quidditch over spending time with you. What's with that anyway? Blokes and Quidditch, I mean? Do they not balance out the perks properly or something? Are they aware that, no, you cannot take Quidditch into a remote broom closet and thoroughly snog it for a good half-hour? You could spend a good half hour snogging the ground when you fall off your brooms during Quidditch, but that's about just all action you'd be getting. Now, with me on the other hand...

Are blokes really that oblivious?

Playing Quidditch...or snogging Lily...playing Quidditch...snogging Lily...

The decision should not be a hard one.

So anyway, you could probably understand my immense concern and depression at that point. The evening hadn't even started and already all looked grim! I didn't see how it was possible.

But you know what they say...when life gives you lemons...

So I put on a smile and got down to work.

I was relieved to find Amos and I filtering back into the comfortable and easy working environment that we'd had last week. We worked, we laughed, I made a fool out of myself a few times and we laughed again...really, it was quite lovely. It was easy to pretend that Amos wasn't possibly counting down the minutes until 7:25 when he could leave while we were getting along so well. In the back of my mind, I saw him looking at his watch, seeing the time and then casually shrugging it off with a "who needs Quidditch, anyway?", but I knew that wasn't going to happen. But still, my smile remained and we worked hard to finish up the project in time.

And do you know something else? Really, Amos is so lucky he has me. Seriously, he is. The boy is just terribly inept at Ancient Runes. Thank Merlin I hadn't pushed the issue about doing a harder translation, because I don't think Amos could've handled it. He tries, really he does, but I just don't think he got the genes for it or something. Not that that makes me love him any less—I love him for his faults, as all true wives would. Faults are what make us human, after all. I would be terribly worried if Amos didn't have at least a few. Merlin knows that I have more than I can count.

The minutes continued to tick by far too quickly for my liking, and I found myself doing problems wrong in hopes that perhaps Amos would choose to stay if we hadn't finished, but by a stroke of unfortunate luck, my stalling was to no avail. Instead, we ended up finishing five minutes before Amos had to leave. I tried to hide my incredible disappointment.

"So that's it, then? We're done?"

Amos smiled as he finished up with the last translation. I grinned back miserably. "Looks like it," I said, holding back the sigh that threatened to come out. My stomach sank as I began to realise that perhaps I had gotten all of this wrong. Amos was never looking forward to coming here tonight. Not the way I was looking forward to it, anyway. He was, however, looking forward to Quidditch, and was fumbling with his papers in his haste to get there.

"We make a good team," Amos commented, looking up at me when he'd finally gotten his papers in order. I nodded and forced out another smile, too upset and disappointed to actually respond. Of course we make a good team, Amos. We make a great team, the perfect pair—boyfriend and girlfriend, husband and wife, mother and father...

"Lily?"

My head snapped up, my eyes moving from the spot on the table where I'd been determined to keep them while I put away my books for the last few minutes, desperate to look anywhere but at the boy who had just crushed all my hopes and dreams. "Hm?" I answered softly, not trusting myself to say more than that. Amos cleared his throat awkwardly, and for a second, I feared that perhaps I hadn't been hiding my disappointment as well as I had thought.

"Can I ask you a question?" Amos finally asked.

"About the project?"

Amos let out an uncomfortable laugh and shook his head. Instantly, I began to panic at the thought of him questioning me about my odd behavior and my curious disappointment. The number one rule when facing rejection is never let them know they've gotten to you! You can't. You just can't. However, from the way Amos was standing there, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, I knew that my blatant disappointment had succeeded in breaking that rule. Somehow, I knew I had to correct my mistake. So with all the willpower I possessed, I pushed aside all the disappointment and dread that was cursing through my body and forced out my best smile.

"What about then?" I asked, my face almost straining from the effort it took to keep my smile in place.

"What are you doing on the 18th, Lily?"

"18th?"

"Yeah, the 18th."

"Erm, I don't know," I answered slowly, trying to hide my confusion at the odd question. "What's that, a Friday or something?"

A small smile crept up along Amos's face. "It's a Saturday," he corrected lightly. He stared pointedly at me and added, "It's Hogsmeade."

Hogsmeade.

The word sent a shiver down my spine. Just thinking about the day made me feel like crying. What did he want? Did he honestly expect me to drop out on Hogsmeade in order to help him with something? Did he figure, 'Oh, Lily Evans, she's got a brain and would have absolutely nothing to do on a Hogsmeade weekend. Let's see if I can get her to do this and that for me'?

Well, Amos my dear, I may not have a life and you may not seem to love me like you're supposed to, but I don't have to take this kind of abuse!

"Well, I suppose I'll be in Hogsmeade, then, won't I?" I answered flippantly, my head poised high and defiant, just daring him to contradict me.

But he didn't. Try to contradict me, I mean. He just gave me this rather odd look and went, "So you have plans, then? To go with someone?"

I wondered why he was pressing the issue. Had he not heard me? Did it matter whether or not I was going with someone? Whether or not I really had plans? I mean, the truth of the matter was, I wasn't talking to Emma (though even if I were, she'd probably be off snogging Mac somewhere) and who knows if Grace had planned a date for that Saturday, so I could've very well ended up going alone, or at the very least, not at all. That did not mean, however, that I was available for whatever work or tutoring Amos was asking for—I love him and all, but not at the expense of my very valuable Hogsmeade time.

I was very tempted to go on and lie to Amos, telling him about the smart, attractive bloke who had all but begged me on his hands and knees to go to Hogsmeade with him, but stopped just as the story sat on the tip of my tongue. I knew the lie would just end up coming back to bite me in the arse somehow, and I couldn't risk it.

So instead, I went with the cool, evasive reply. Not a lie exactly, but not the truth, either.

"Well, nothing's set in stone yet or anything, but yeah, I suppose I have some plans. Why do you ask?"

The second the question left my mouth, I instantly regretted asking it. I shouldn't have asked why. I knew for sure that if he looked at me with those big blue eyes and disappointingly mentioned about how his mate's cousin's uncle's daughter's boyfriend needed help with his Charms and Amos had figured I was perfect for the job, I would surely melt and submit to him. All thoughts of my defiant attitude would be whisked away with just one look. How is a girl supposed to say no to the man she loves? How could she even think about going to Hogsmeade when her love was in even the smallest bit of pain?

I couldn't. I wouldn't. I hated it, but that's they way life went sometimes.

But as it turned out, I didn't have to, because it wasn't Amos's mate's cousin's uncle's daughter's boyfriend who wanted my company the day of the 18th.

It was Amos himself.

"Well, I can hardly ask you to come with me if you've already got plans, now can I?"

...ask you to come with me...

It was then that my heart stopped dead and silent in my chest. Not because, as one have thought, Amos had just technically asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him, or because I had just realised that my every dream and fantasy was about to come true, but because as soon as the words left Amos's mouth, only one thought came to mind.

Oh my god, I've started to hallucinate.

That was it. The second I heard the hidden proposal, I had to hold back a groan as the realisation struck—I was really officially mad. I can't even tell you what my face must have looked like at that point, but internally, I was in a complete and utter panic. I was absolutely convinced that I had finally crossed that fragile line between just sort of mad and really, literally, white walls, straightjacket, 'let's just take your pills now, shall we?' barking mad. I was seeing things. I had driven myself to the absolute brink of insanity that I was now creating real life images in my head. I was hallucinating. I couldn't believe I was actually hallucinating. What was I going to do now that—

"Lily?"

I snapped out of my reverie at the sound of Amos's voice. He was looking at me expectantly, as if waiting for an answer to something. It was then that I realised that while mad Lily was off being her mad, hallucinating self, Amos must have actually been talking.

Oh, double bloody fucking shit.

"I'm sorry," I apologised immediately, shaking my head and hopefully, shaking off some of my insanity as well. "I missed that. What did you say?"

"Well, I really asked more than I said," Amos corrected, shooting me a grin. My heart thumped wildly at the mention of the word 'ask'.

"Asked what?" I croaked out, pinching myself hard underneath the table, just to make sure this wasn't another figment of my imagination.

"About Hogsmeade," Amos repeated. "If your plans aren't too solidly set, I hoped you'd consider going with me."

I hoped you'd consider going with me.

It hadn't been a hallucination. I wasn't mad (or that mad, anyway). Amos Diggory had really just asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him.

AMOS DIGGORY HAD JUST ASKED ME TO GO TO HOGSMEADE!!!!

HE LOVED ME! HE REALLY REALLY LOVED ME!!!

...or he was getting there anyway. Blokes are awfully thick about such things. Very oblivious to all the things going on in their hearts, you know. But he'll realise it eventually. He loves me more than life itself. He just doesn't know it yet.

"You want me to go to Hogsmeade with you?" was the first thing I managed to get out and was amazed at how calm my voice had sounded, even when inside, everything was going haywire.

"I know it's a bit late," Amos answered with a nod, "but I figured if your plans weren't set—"

"They're not," I interrupted quickly, a smile breaking out on my face, not caring that my rushed answer had sounded more than a little bit desperate. "They're not set at all, actually. Very flexible plans. Yes, very tenuous indeed."

"Tenuous?" Amos repeated slowly. "So is that a yes?"

Was that a yes? WAS THAT A YES? Was this bloke actually serious? Did he think I would possibly say no? Did he think I could? OF COURSE IT WAS A YES!!!

"Yes," I answered aloud, the word falling from my lips with the biggest and best smile I could muster without actually breaking out into a devilish mirth of loud and unseemly laughter, flinging myself into his arms and snogging him senseless right there on the library floor. "I'd love to go to Hogsmeade with you, Amos."

And much to my complete and utter delight, Amos smiled back at me as well, and I thought that perhaps, for a second, maybe he already knew he loved me. Oblivious as the male gender is, Amos is, after all, rather perfect. "Good," he said, his blue eyes gleaming as he rose from his seat. "I'm glad."

But not possibly as glad as I am, my adorable, oblivious love. Not possibly as much as I.

I could've stood there all day, reveling in the look of Amos as he stood there in front of me, smiling and shining as if I'd just bestowed a great gift upon him. However, despite what I wanted to do, I knew it would only be matter of time before my long suppressed happiness and excitement succeeded in boiling over and I just started jumping up and down in complete and utter bliss. So in order to avoid such an embarrassing (albeit, absolutely necessary) display of public affection, I casually glanced towards the clock that was hanging on the wall, smiling as the hands read 7:30.

"Don't you have practice?"

Amos's head swiveled over to the clock at my question. Letting out a slight groan as he saw the time, Amos swore. "I'm late," he sighed, grabbing his books off of the table.

"I'm sorry for making you late," I said with a wince, though really, I was anything but. I mean, honestly, if Amos and I are going to join and share our lives together as man and wife, the bloke is going to have to learn to put me before Quidditch. This relationship will just not function otherwise.

"It's fine," Amos shrugged, waving off my pseudo-apology. "It was worth it."

See? Do you see that? Perfect! He's perfect!

I didn't know what to say, but I could feel the strong burning of a blush on my cheeks and I figured that was response enough. Amos laughed as I stood, just as he was departing to leave.

"So the 18th?" he confirmed, eyebrows raised.

I nodded slowly, still red. "The 18th," I repeated.

Amos nodded back, shifted his books in his arms and glanced once more at the clock behind him. "Damn," he swore again, frowning at the time. "I've got to go." He turned back to me with a sigh. "But I'll talk to you in class about Hogsmeade, all right?"

"Sure, of course."

"Good. Great." He grinned once more over his shoulder, and with a small wave of his hand, I silently watched him leave the library, a light sigh escaping my mouth as he disappeared beyond the library doors.

A few seconds after he left, I completely abandoned my books and belongings at the table, and going as quickly as my feet could possibly carry me, made my way to the farthest, most remote spot in the very back of the dusty old library.

And there, I silently began my celebratory jig.

This said jig included much jumping, hopping, shaking, quiet clapping and a large abundance of silent screaming and laughing. With this jig, I was finally able to let out my previously suppressed enthralled and overly joyous feelings.

Amos Diggory had asked me out.

HE HAD ASKED ME OUT!!

HE HAD FINALLY GOTTEN IT THROUGH HIS SILLY LITTLE HEAD THAT I WAS THE PERFECT GIRL FOR HIM!! FINALLY!!

I don't think there's a single thing that can upset me now. I am officially insane with glee and happiness. I am...I am...

HE ASKED ME OUT!!

YES!!!!!!

Oh, I can't wait to tell everyone! Grace and Emm…er…oh, what the hell! Happy people forgive others—Emma, too! They'll all be completely shocked, I'm sure. Them, and Sirius and Peter, who think I'm a prude, and James who—

Oh my god. Oh my god.

Double bloody fucking shit.

James.

I had forgotten all about James! My new mate who could possibly be hiding a whole slew of strong unrequited feelings for me! I'd forgotten all about him!

Of course, that's only a could. Hiding possible romantically inclined feelings, I mean. This is only a possibility. He's probably not. He probably won't even care. He'll most likely just be all, "Oh, that's great, Lil. I'm glad you're so happy," because that's the sort of things mates do. And James and I, we're mates. Just mates. And that's all he ever wants to be. There's no way he'd ever want to be something more, regardless of the way he felt before. That was all a fluke, a fake. He didn't really know me then, and now that he does, he would want nothing to do with me romantically. I'm mad as a hatter and apparently have some sort of rather large inferiority complex. I'm lucky the bloke even wants to be my mate! He would never ever want more. He just wouldn't.

Oh, but what if he does?

James has been nothing but nice to me all term (well, minus the whole green glob thing. And the getting-cross-and-then-causing-large-scenes-in-the-Arthimacy-corridor thing. And he does yell at me quite a bit, even though I usually deserve most of it. But other than that). He tutors me and helps me, he comes to find me when my mates are being prats, he let's me cry on his comfortable shirts when my hormones fall off balance—and how do I repay him for all his kindness and friendship?

By dating his rival Quidditch captain, that's how.

Oh, Merlin, the poor bloke! If he is hiding some sort of unnecessary feelings, he'll be devastated when he hears the news. If not, he probably won't care, but if he is...

What am I supposed to do?

Maybe I just shouldn't tell him. Maybe I should just hide my excitement as best as I possibly can and not tell him.

No, that wouldn't work. He'd find out anyway. It's not like these things stay secret for very long around here. I'm sure half of Hogwarts already knows about the impending date one way or another. Someone's bound to tell him, even if I don't, and I suppose it would be worse if he found out from someone other than me. So I have to tell him. I don't have a choice.

But I really, really don't want to.

And possibly worst of all is that I know that I'll be able to tell right away from his reaction what's going through his head. James is rather demonstrative that way. I'll know the second he hears the news about how he feels about me and then—

Hey, wait...

Know how he feels...

That's it!

This is it! I'll finally be able to tell once and for all how James really feels! The greatest mystery of them all can finally be put to rest! If he does...have feelings for me, knowing James he'd probably throw a gasket at the news. He'd go on and on about how Amos is such a prat and how I was stupid to even be considering going with him. He'd probably be rather hurt as well, but I hardly think he'd show that. James has more pride than that. It's the macho male and emotions conflict. If you show any sign of feeling other than normal male anger, you're suddenly a pansy in Bloke World. It's a rather mixed up concept, but boys will be boys, I suppose.

On the other hand, if his feelings are—as I think them to be—strictly platonic, then he'll probably just smile and say some dumb, witty jibe about how I shouldn't shag on the first date or something.

And it's not like I'm doing this maliciously or anything. It's not as if I am purposely trying to make him mad or upset, even though the outcome of this little experiment might very well result in that. It's inevitable that I have to tell him, and he's going to react whether I'm there noticing it or not, so it's not like any of this is deliberate. I'm not a bad person or anything...even though I have an uneasy feeling about all this in my stomach. It's inevitable...it really is...he doesn't fancy me, anyway, so it's not as if he's going to get upset...

This will simply be, in a way, a test. A slightly more complicated form of the traditional, pedal-picking, 'He loves me, he loves me not". It's harmless. Completely and totally harmless.

But either way, this is one test I'm sincerely hoping that James Potter fails.

Extremely Later, 7th Year Girls' Dormitory
Observant Lily: Day 16
Total Observations: 115

My heart was thumping wildly in my chest when I spotted James walking through the library doors a worry-filled half-hour after Amos had left. He casually strode towards me, Transfiguration books in hand and a small smile on his face. Even though I was still panicked beyond all possible belief about the outcome of this self-acclaimed test, I knew what I had to do, and it wasn't exactly difficult to give the show-stopping grin that the test required. James problems aside, I was still going to Hogsmeade with Amos Diggory.

"Hey," James greeted, sliding into the seat across from me. He gave an uneasy glance at my overly bright smile. "You can't honestly expect me to believe that you're that excited about Transfiguration, Lily Evans. Not without a couple of glasses of Firewhiskey in you, at any rate."

"Oh, ha, ha, ha," I responded dryly, though my smile only faded a bit. "I'll have you know that I can now stomach Transfiguration with only one glass of strong alcohol, James Potter. I have improved a great deal in the past few weeks."

James laughed and wiggled his eyebrows. "No doubt because of my brilliant tutoring, yeah?"

"Oh, absolutely."

James laughed again, shaking his head as he began flipping through his textbook, looking for tonight's desired lesson. "But either way," he continued, eyebrows raised, "seeing that you haven't—to my knowledge, anyway—consumed any sort of strong alcohol yet, what's got you in such a good mood?"

"Am I in a good mood?"

Yes, I was stalling. I couldn't help it. My stomach was clenched so tight it hurt.

James cocked another brow. "With that blinding smile, Evans? I'd like to see what a real good day looks like for you if this one is just normal." Finally finding the proper page, he stopped flipping through his book and focused all his attention on me. "Well?"

"Well...are you sure you want to know?"

Yes, still stalling. I would've broken out into song and an offbeat tap dance if I thought it would've given me a few more seconds.

"I don't know," James answered with a grin. "You didn't kill anyone did you?"

I snorted. "Since when does killing people put you in a good mood?"

"Oh, you know, it's like that natural serial killer high," James responded matter-of-factly. "Why do you think so many lunatic murders sit there and smile?"

I rolled my eyes. "And you know this all from personal experience, of course?"

"Naturally," James agreed. "My best days come after a good kill the night before."

I laughed, the knot in my stomach slowly unraveling as I fell back into my normal comfort zone. This was James Potter—my new mate who joked about killing sprees. He was going to fail this stupid test. He definitely was. "So would a good kill satisfy your curiosity about my good mood?" I asked.

"Depends," James responded simply.

"On what?"

"On whether or not you did it properly, of course. As your new and most experienced mate in such things, I have to make sure to guide you in your murdering ways."

"There's a wrong way to murder someone?" I laughed, shaking my head at James's mischievous grin.

"Oh, how very naive you are," James sighed, shaking his head in mock-disappointment. "I sure hope you managed to dispose of the body properly. That's one thing that's sure to get you caught."

"No need to worry about that," I reassured him with a grin. "I stuck it with Moaning Myrtle. No one will ever trace it back to me."

"With who?" James laughed.

"Moaning Myrtle," I repeated, taking silent pride in the fact that I knew something about Hogwarts that one of the notorious Marauders did not. Even if this said something happened to live in the second floor girls' lavatory, and I would be a bit worried if James did know of such things. "The moaning, whining ghost that lives in the girls' lavatory. Very emotional one. Not exactly friendly. Girls avoid her stalls like the plague."

"Interesting," James commented. "Very clever, Evans."

"So does that mean I pass your experienced judgment, Mr. Potter?"

James pretended to think about this, stroking his chin in a very thoughtful manner. "You'll do," he finally decided with a nod.

We both broke out laughing.

Madame Pince told us to shut it (or more or less, anyway).

With our laughter now stifled as a result of Madame Pince's threatening glares, I glanced at James with mirth-filled eyes, watching as his own amusement shone through the frames of his glasses.

"So?"

I arched an eyebrow at James's unfinished prompt. "So what?" I asked.

"So what's got you in such a good mood, that's what!"

I cracker another grin, trying to avoid the inevitable with another joke. "You mean you don't believe my murdering tale?"

James snorted and shook his head. "As much as I wish I could have had such a negative influence on you, Evans, it's just not happening. So spit it out. What's the truth? You finally make up with Emma?"

My heart sunk at his words, for once not because of his mention of Emma, but because I knew what was coming next. James Potter would be taking his test, one he was neither prepared nor even aware of. I swallowed down the panic that was threatening to come up and hid my worries behind my Amos-filled smile.

"I...no, it's not Emma," was the only thing I could manage to get out for the moment.

"Not Emma?" James asked curiously. "Then what?"

I knew that if I didn't just spit it out right then and there, I would have chickened out. Already images of James's crestfallen features haunted my mind, making it nearly impossible to force the words out. It was probably all for nothing, I kept telling myself. James couldn't possibly still fancy me. None of this would even matter. But I still couldn't ignore the screaming voice in the back of my head that said he would care.

Before I lost my nerve, I kicked my smile back up a notch and pushed the words from my mouth.

"Amos Diggory asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him."

My eyes stayed focused on James even as I quickly spoke the unavoidable words. My heart was beating so hard it was ringing in my ears, but I ignored the sound. With halted breath, I waited for James's reaction—waited for the grade that I would be forced to give him, and the consequences that would come along with it.

"Wait, what?"

His face was impossible to read and his voice gave no inclination of his thoughts as James forced me to repeat myself.

"Just before," I explained further, my voice calm even though I was not. "We'd just finished with our Ancient Runes project and then he asked me to go with him. And I said yes."

In the mere second that I awaited James's reaction to the news, it was as if time had stopped. It was only me, sitting there at the table, my insides in a jumble and my mind trying to come to terms with the fact that I may have possibly just tarnished a friendship that had barely even begun. The way James reacted would forever change the course of our relationship, because I knew that if he did for some incomprehensible reason, still fancy me, things would be impossibly tense and awkward, and neither of us would be able to deal with it.

And so, in those few seconds between question and reality, I prayed. I prayed to every god and person I knew that I hadn't just royally blotched up everything. I wished and I hoped and I prayed so hard that nothing else really mattered.

And then...

James smiled.

And subsequently, much to my eternal relief, failed my test.

"He finally caught on then, did he?" James teased me with a grin, completely unaware of the fact that he had just salvaged our friendship.

With a laugh that held more exhilarated relief than it did humor, I nodded my head. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Well, good," James said, nodding back. "I mean, I think the bloke's a complete prat, but you like him well enough and that's what really matters, yeah?"

I laughed and nodded again, so far past speaking at that point.

He didn't fancy me. He couldn't. If he did, surely he wouldn't have been taking the news like this. He would've yelled and screamed, or at the very least given me some sort of dirty look that conveyed his extreme displeasure. But he hadn't. He didn't do anything like that. Instead, he'd laughed and poked fun like a normal mate would.

He doesn't fancy me.

JAMES POTTER DOESN'T FANCY ME!! YES!!!!

"Just one question," James said, interrupting me from my mental celebration of happiness and relief.

"What?" I asked, pretty much ready for anything at that point.

James grinned and narrowed his eyes accusingly. "This doesn't mean you'll be cheering for Hufflepuff in the first match, does it?"

I laughed again, shaking my head at his humorous expression. "And betray Gryffindor?" I asked with mock-shock. "I would never even dream of it!"

James laughed then as well, and with a slight mischievous grin from me, I couldn't help but add, "Besides, now that I know what you're capable of, I'd never risk cheering against you. I'd surely be dead and disposed of properly by morning."

"Damn right you would be."

And with that slightly unusual ending, we began our session, and I threw myself completely into Transfiguration with a happiness that I never thought possible.

Amos has asked me out, James doesn't fancy me...

I'd say it was a generally productive day, no?

Yes!!!!!!

Thursday, October 2nd, Divination
Observant Lily: Day 17
Total Observations: 116

As a result of an incredibly dirty dream concerning Amos, me, various items of food and a variety of interesting surfaces, I woke up extremely late this morning and completely missed breakfast. Grace had been off at another early morning practice, so she wasn't there to wake me up. She wasn't there when I'd returned to the dormitory last night after my tutoring session either, so I hadn't gotten the chance to tell her about the big news. When I finally met up with her in Divination and went to share the news with her, I found out somehow she already knew.

"Wait, how did you find out?" I asked, rather put out by this strange turn of events as I slid down onto the cushion that served as a chair after Grace had just informed me that she already knew about Amos and me.

"The crystal ball told me," Grace joked, moving her hands mysteriously over the ball sitting on the table before her. I rolled my eyes.

"Be serious, will you? How did you find out?"

Grace shrugged her shoulders. "Tammy Turner told me."

"Tammy Turner?" I scoffed. "How the bloody hell did she find out?"

"From Carrie Lloyd," Grace explained matter-of-factly, "who apparently heard it from Evie Patil, who heard it from a Hufflepuff third-year who saw the whole thing go down."

I groaned, shaking my head. "We weren't even loud," I muttered miserably, cursing the idiot third-year who had already succeeded in spreading the news to every living, breathing thing that she could.

"You know those Hufflepuffs," Grace said lightly. "A right chattery bunch the whole lot of them are. But what does it matter, Lil? I thought you'd want the world to know that you've finally caught yourself a Diggory."

"It's not that I don't want people to know," I protested with a sigh. "It's just...I don't know. I hate when everyone is getting into my business. They have nothing to do with it."

"Well, you'd better get used to all of that," Grace pointed out honestly. "Amos Diggory basks in the glory of public attention. He's right self-centered about things like this, Lil. Don't you remember when he was dating Dorcas Meadowes? The second they did anything, everyone else knew about it. The night she finally let him up her shirt, half of Hogwarts knew practically before she did."

I opened my mouth to defend Amos, but couldn't argue with the facts. Amos and Dorcas's relationship had indeed been quite the public spectacle, and I knew Amos didn't mind it like that. It's not that I'm a very private person, really, it's just that I'd hate to see my relationship up on a public podium for everyone to look and gawk at. I mean, who wants everyone to know that they'd let their boyfriend up their shirt? Some things are supposed to be kept personal.

"This school is just too bloody small," I grumbled miserably, hating the situation. "No one has anything better to do but talk about other people. It's sick. It's ridiculous. It's—Grace! What did you do to your hand?"

I stopped mid-rant, looking down in horror at the large purple welt that was spread across the back of Grace's right hand. Grace glared at the offending injury venomously.

"It was my stupid bloody captain," she bit out.

My eyebrows furrowed. "James?"

Grace nodded with a frown. "He's absolutely mad," she insisted, rubbing the bruise with her left hand. "Drove us all into the bloody ground this morning. Just because he's having a bad day, he figures he can take it out on all of us. And who has practice that bloody early, anyway? We're in top form. We don't need any more bloody practices." Grace shook her head before muttering, "James and McGonagall are both out of their minds."

"But why was he in a bad mood?" I asked, trying to figure out what could have possibly happened between the time I'd seen him laughing and happy last night, and when Grace and seen him in an obviously dreadful mood this morning.

"Does it matter?" Grace asked, her voice still bitter. "He still doesn't have a right to take it out on all of us. We didn't do anything to him."

"Of course you didn't," I agreed. "I'm just wondering what could've set him off so much. He was perfectly normal last night."

"Yeah, I know," Grace grumbled, glaring at me now for some reason. "Why don't you ask him why he's trying to kill off his players, Lily?"

"Me? Why can't you?"

"Because I can't promise that he'll make it out of the conversation alive, that's why."

I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. "Yeah, I'll ask him," I promised, biting my lip in thought. Grace nodded and then class began.

Later, Defense
Observant Lily: Day 17
Total Observations: 116

I was digging through my rucksack just before, looking around for my misplaced Defence essay (which was hidden in my Herbology textbook, which had somehow suddenly made its way back into my bag), when I found this stuffed between some of my books:

Emmeline gets out at 4:00 today. I just thought I would let you know in case you wanted to do something with the information. -Mac

Many things about this disturbed me, including:

a) Just when did Mac have time to put this note in my rucksack?
b) How did Mac manage to put this note in my rucksack?
c) He always calls her Emmeline. Why does he do that? Everyone else just calls her Emma.
d) For such a supposedly brilliant bloke, the boy really does have just the most horrendous penmanship. When 'out' starts to resemble 'cot' and 'wanted' is clearly able to read 'wunteol' as well, you have yourself a problem.
e) Regardless of what it still may seem like, I DO NOT CARE WHAT TIME EMMA GETS OUT OF THE HOSPITAL WING. Generally, people who are very very cross with other people don't care about the whereabouts of this said other person. Even if the instant knots in their stomach at the mere thought of 4:00 suggest otherwise. I truly don't care. I don't.

Mac is a prat. He's a big, stupid, messy-writing, pickpocket skilled prat. I hate him. I hate him like…like…I just do!

Hmph!

Later, Charms
Observant Lily: Day 17
Total Observations: 117

No good kills last night? –LE

What? –JP

Well, rumor has it that your disposition this morning is something to be feared, so I just figured that your latest murder attempt must have been a failure.

Yeah, I guess you can call it that.

So what's wrong?

Nothing's wrong.

I beg to differ, my friend. The large bruise on the back of Grace's hand objects as well. She insists you drove her to injury this morning with your awful mood, Mr. Captain.

Grace should learn to pay more attention to the Bludgers. It has nothing to do with me.

It does when you're the one that sends six Bludgers out for her to fend off!

It was practice. I was preparing her.

For what? Her quick and untimely death? It was insanity. You were taking your anger out on your team.

I was not. There is no anger to take out! What do you know, anyway? You weren't even there!

I didn't need to be there. You've been scowling at everyone all morning!

I decided I don't scowl enough. I'm simply making up for it.

Would you please just tell me what's wrong? Maybe I can help.

You can't. You wouldn't want to, anyway.

I wouldn't be offering if I didn't want to help, James.

Just drop it, Lily.

Why? What is it that has you so cross?

Just…everything, all right? It's just an off day. We weren't all just asked out by our selected prattish life partners, you know.

Hey, that's not fair!

Life never is.

I was only trying to help, James! You don't have to be such an arse!

I'm not being an arse!

Yes, you are!

I…I know. I'm sorry. Look, I told you, it's an off day. Things just keep going wrong. I'll be fine by tomorrow. Sorry for snapping at you.

It's fine. Just…are you sure you're all right? There's nothing I can do to help? It wouldn't hurt just to ask, you know, even if you think I'll say no.

No. There's nothing.

Positive?

Yes.

Well, all right, then, I suppose. Let me know if you think of something, though.

All right.

And get some ice cream to cheer yourself up. Or some rice. Rice always cheers me up.

Yes, I know.

Though not together. The rice and the ice cream, I mean. I don't think that will produce the proper endorphin reaction.

Proper endorphin reaction?

Yeah, to make you happy.

See? Already just the thought of rice is making you laugh!

You make me laugh.

See? I can help in my own, mad sort of way. Lunatics are quite good at amusing people, you know. We're very easy to laugh at.

No one laughs at you, Lily.

Oh, yes they do. And rightfully so. I'm completely out of my mind.

No arguments there.

Oh, that's nice, Potter. Here I am, trying in vain to cheer you up, and you're insulting me! Shouldn't you be telling me how perfectly sane I am? Isn't that the proper mately thing to do? Shouldn't you be all, "Oh, please, Lil, you're not mad. You're perfectly normal!"?

You want me to lie to you?

A small white lie to make a mate feel better about herself is never a bad thing, James. You are definitely not helping my inferiority complex.

Oh, so you admit you have one now?

No, I was just telling a little white lie to make my mate feel better about himself.

Listen, I'm all for your happiness returning and all, but can you please stop laughing so loud? Flitwick looks ready to pounce.

You just don't want to get in trouble.

You're right, I don't, and there's nothing wrong with that. Now shut it.

All right, all right, you wimp. I won't ruin your perfect Head Girl image by getting you in trouble.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

James?

Lily?

I'm glad you're feeling better.

Who says I am?

I'm glad you're feeling better, James.

Yeah, me too.

Even Later, History of Magic
Observant Lily: Day 17
Total Observations: 117

At lunch, I conveyed the results of Project: Cross James to Grace as we sat eating our sandwiches.

"He insists nothing's wrong," I informed her quietly, taking care not to speak too loudly, as two out of the four Marauders—Peter and Remus, to be exact—were seated not too far down the table from us. "He says it's just an off day."

"Off day my arse," Grace sneered, ripping a bite off her sandwich. "Did you happen to ask him why it was such an off day, Lily?"

I shrugged. "He just said everything was going wrong. You know those days, Gracie. Cut the bloke some slack."

Grace let out a huff of disgust. "He injured me, Lily! Do you even care that I am now in a constant state of pain because of him and his off mood?"

"You said it didn't hurt," I reminded her flatly.

"Yeah, well, now it does!"

I rolled my eyes at Grace's dramatics. "It does not, you baby. Just leave him alone, will you? He'll be back to his normal cheerful self by tomorrow and you and your hand will be free of his wrath."

Grace snorted loudly, shooting me a pointed look. "Somehow, I just don't think he will, Lily."

I rolled my eyes again, ignoring Grace's meaningful look. I didn't know why she seemed to think that James's mood would remain forever. It wasn't going to. It couldn't. I mean, he was feeling better already—he told me he was. Thinking that if nothing else, James's own declaration would be a convincing point, I pulled the notes from Charms out of my bag and showed them to Grace.

"See?" I said, motioning towards the last few. "He even said himself he's feeling better."

Grace grunted in response, ignoring me as her eyes began to stray over to the other parts of the notes. I went to grab them back, but she just shifted to her left, moving the parchment out of my grasp as her eyes continued to skim the paper.

"Wait a second," she said, throwing me a curious look over her shoulder as I glared and attempted to snatch the parchment back again. "What's all this?"

As Grace brought the parchment back over so I could see what she was pointing out, I took advantage of the opportunity and seized the notes back from her, giving her a good dirty look as I glanced down to see what she was pointing at.

"Oh, that," I responded testily, shrugging my shoulders. "It's nothing. James insists I have some sort of 'inferiority complex' or something."

"Inferiority complex?" Grace snorted. "It's more like an inferiority lifestyle."

"I know, he's totally mad—wait, what?"

Grace instantly broke out into laughter at the sight of my shocked and appalled face. I glared furiously at her. What did she mean lifestyle? It wasn't a lifestyle! It wasn't even a complex! It wasn't anything. I'm perfectly confident in everything I do!

...Well, most of the time anyway.

Nevertheless, I DO NOT HAVE AN INFERIORITY COMPLEX!

"I do not have any type of inferiority complex, Grace Reynolds!"

Paying absolutely no mind to either my loud and ferocious denials or my furious glares, Grace just began to laugh harder.

"It's not funny!" I cried, crossing my arms angrily across my chest, still glaring at Grace's giggling form. "Stop laughing!"

Through her bursts of completely inappropriate loud chuckles, Grace efficiently disregarded my request that she shut her trap, but managed to weakly choke out a few sentences. "No...not funny at all," she muttered, her voice heaving from the giggles that were still tumbling out. A few seconds later, it seemed as if she'd finally composed herself. She looked up at me and my glaring face...and then proceeded to burst out laughing again.

"Grace!" I groaned, giving up on my useless glaring, moving on to pouting instead. "Will you just quit it, you stupid prat?"

"I'm sorry," Grace apologised, the glee and laughter just barely fading from her lips. "But, come on, Lily, let's be serious here. You're inferior like it's your job, for Merlin's sake."

Like it's my job? LIKE IT'S MY JOB? Was she kidding? She had to be kidding. I am not inferior! I'm not! I don't know what's wrong with all these people. I mean, yes, I may be a little hard on myself sometimes about some things, but that's how everyone is! You're always your own worst critic! It's human nature! I'm no different from anyone else! I huffed indignantly, resuming my glares as a few more chuckles escaped from Grace.

"It's not my job, it's not a complex," I began to argue. "I'm not inferior at all!"

"Or so you say now," Grace responded flatly.

"Or so I say always!"

Grace sighed dramatically. "You're being silly, Lil. You're in denial—or you know what? Maybe you're right. Maybe it's not a complex. But either way, you have an extremely-modest-bordering-on-self-deprecating sort of personality, Lily Evans, and you know it."

Again, I let out a grunt of disagreement, shooting Grace a nasty face. I was about to begin arguing once more about the normalness of self-deprecation in seventeen-year-old females and the fact that really, I was quite normal on that account, when my rant was suddenly cut off by the sudden pounding of the Great Hall doors being thrown loudly and violently open. All heads—including Grace's and mine—flew to the noise.

And who would of course be the one striding through the doors at that very moment, but the initiator of this entire madness himself, Mr. James Potter.

An extremely angry looking James Potter.

An extremely angry looking James Potter, who didn't even bother to stop off and say hello as he passed. He just stomped furiously down through the rows of tables, his face red and his jaw clenched, and slammed right outside the front doors in an equally loud and attention-drawing fashion, never looking back.

As the doors closed shut behind him, the Great Hall was silent.

"Oh, yeah," Grace muttered dryly. "I'd say he's feeling much better now."

Ignoring the jibe, I shot Grace another sour look before turning back around to face Sirius, who had quietly—and a lot more calmly—followed James into the Great Hall. He was shaking his head at his mates, who were all looking at him curiously.

"Well," he said, a bitter smirk planted on his face. "I don't think we'll be seeing Prongs at afternoon lessons."

Both Remus and Peter cracked a grin at this, but no one moved or showed any sign that they had just watched one of their best mates storm out of the Great Hall in a fiery rage. I regarded the trio quizzically.

"What happened?" I asked Sirius, motioning my head towards the door James had just all but knocked down in his anger.

Sirius lifted his lips in a small smile. "Bad day," was all he said.

"Well, obviously," I responded sarcastically. "I meant what was that? He was perfectly fine just last class!"

"Was he?" Sirius questioned, looking terribly confused. "Well, he, er…" Sirius paused, scratching his head absently as he turned his head towards where James had just left the castle. "He, er…oh hell, Evans, I don't know! Just let him alone, all right? He's on the verge of murder."

Ignoring the irony of Sirius's comment and James's and my conversation last night, I narrowed my eyes questioningly at the boys.

"But shouldn't someone go after him?" I asked, gesturing helplessly with my hands towards the doors. Why was everyone just sitting there? Why weren't they—why wasn't I—doing something? I mean, James could've possibly burnt down half of the Forbidden Forest by now, or attempted to take down the Giant Squid, or at the very least tripped and fallen over a rock in the midst of his blinding rage. Weren't any of them going to go talk to him? Should I?

Peter snorted from his seat down the table. "Are you mad? When he's like that?"

I was about to argue that he wouldn't be like that if someone would just help him, when Sirius interrupted.

"What Pete's trying to say," Sirius broke in, shooting a look at Peter, "is that it'd be no use, Evans. He's not in any kind of mood to talk right now. Prongs needs to fume alone."

"But fume about what?" I questioned again, still not getting any answers out of anyone. "What on earth got him so riled up again?"

What got him riled up in the first place, for that matter?

"Let's just say he had an unfortunate run-in in the corridor," Sirius answered smoothly, still evading the question. He shook his head and then finally took his seat at the table, sighing gently as he quietly warned me, "Leave it alone, Lily. There's nothing you can do for him right now." Then he turned away as he began filling up his plate, his head moving closer to that of his two mates' as they began whispering rapidly to one another.

I wanted to fight back, wanted to insist that at least one of them go out to talk to him, but found that it really was just no use. It wouldn't do anything anyhow. No one was paying any sort of attention to me.

"They know what they're talking about, Lily," Grace told me quietly, pulling my attention away from the still whispering trio. "You've been mates with James for seven days—they've had seven years. I think they know how to handle the situation best, yeah?"

I nodded my head absently, muttering my agreements to Grace as we both turned back to our previously abandoned lunches. But all the while, I was thinking of James. James and his public display of anger, his murderous mood, and the fact that he'd obviously lied to me when he said he was feeling better in Charms.

But why? Why would he lie?

I almost wish I could go out there and ask.

Even Later, In the Stands of the Quidditch Pitch
Observant Lily: Day 17
Total Observations: 118

Observation #118) Things can only go so well for so long before something goes wrong.

I'm starting to think that that's become my life's motto or something. It's really almost silly how completely my life seems to revolve around it. I mean, here I was, all blissfully happy and perfectly content—currently not failing Transfiguration, no new mates in love with me, my potential husband potentially in love with me—and then something would have to go wrong. Naturally.

And I suppose I should have expected it, really. I mean, things can only go so smoothly for so long when you've lived your dharma as rottenly as I have. That's just the way my life works. Just when it seems like things are finally starting to get back on track, something had to come along and blotch it all up.

I had to come along and blotch it all up.

Fate had to come along and blotch it all up.

They all have it out for me. Everyone. Everything. Even forces of nature are out to get me. I'm starting to see now that I must have been someone pretty dreadful in my previous lives in order to be living the way I am now. I mean, how many sweets do you have to steal from harmless little babies in order to deserve luck like mine? How many banks do you have to rob? How many people do you have to kill? How many nights do you have to spend in your metal chains and leather, mugging elderly women in dark alleyways? HOW MANY?

Perhaps I was Grindelwald in a previous life. Or maybe I was Hitler. Or that bloke who went on that head-chopping spree during the French Revolution—Robes-something or another—perhaps I was him. I had to be one of them. Or maybe I was all three. It sure would explain a few things.

For today, my dreadful karma has once more succeeded in ruining my life—this time with the useful aid of my traitor-of-mouth.

When your rubbish bad luck begins teaming up with your rebellious body parts, that's the point when you know that you pretty much have to just throw in the towel. The world is officially working against you. The best thing for you to do is just let it go and accept it. You could move to Guam, that might help, but unless you're good with coconuts, chances are you aren't going to have a much better life there than you did in England. You just have to accept your fate, I suppose. You're life here on earth will be utter hell. Learn to love it.

Ugh.

As Sirius had predicted, James was not present for any of our classes for the remainder of the afternoon. I tried to ignore the sense of defeat that was burning in my stomach every time I thought about how furious James had looked as he'd stormed through the Great Hall at lunch, but it didn't seem to work. I'd honestly thought that our talk had made him feel better, even if it was only a little bit. I mean, he'd been laughing—laughing! Angry people don't laugh! And especially not as loudly as James had been in Charms. I mean, I had to tell him to shut it he was being so loud! He had to have felt better. He had to.

But where had all of that gone? What could've possibly made him so upset again? I didn't know, but it had me severely worried about him. I mentioned to Remus once more about someone going after him when James failed to show up for the second class of the afternoon, but like Sirius, Remus just said to let James fume alone. I didn't see the value in that, but adhering to Grace's advice about the Marauders obviously knowing James the best, I had no other choice but to listen to what the three of them were saying, as much as I didn't like it.

Classes went by incredibly slowly after that, and I really wasn't paying any particular attention in any of them. Instead, I just sat there worrying about James and his bad mood, Emma and her upcoming release from the Hospital Wing, and Amos and his unfounded desire to date me. On a day that really should have been filled with nothing but slaggy dreams of Amos and perfect visions of our impending date together, I was instead filled with this uncomfortable sense of constant dread. It was a rather awkward feeling, really, and I didn't like it one bit.

When the bell finally rang signaling the end of the final class of the day, all I could think about was running straight up to my dormitory and going to bed. My rampage of worry-filled thoughts had just become too much. They were seriously starting to wear me out.

"Are you all right?" Grace asked, nudging my shoulder as we met up outside the Potions classroom. "You've nearly lost your Amos glow, you know."

I shrugged tiredly. "It's been a long day."

Grace didn't respond, and when I turned to look at her, I saw she was biting her lip uncomfortably and averting her gaze from mine. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "What?"

"Er, listen, Lil," she started slowly, her eyes hesitantly moving up to mine. "I'm not sure if you remember, but, er…Emma…she…"

"Gets out of the Hospital Wing today," I finished, remembering the fact all too well. "Yeah, I know."

"Yeah. Right," Grace nodded, running a hand nervously through her hair. From the way she was still fidgeting, I knew that wasn't all she had to say, but she seemed hesitant to continue. I gazed at her expectantly, waiting for whatever came next, knowing that she'd get around to it eventually. "And well," she finally continued a few moments later, her smile wavering slightly, "I sort of promised I'd go meet up with her when she got out…erm, now. Like right now. In fact, I'm a bit late."

I didn't know why I was surprised to hear it, but I was. Of course Grace would be going to fetch Emma. She wasn't the one currently not on speaking terms with her, I was. It was natural that she'd be going to get her. In fact, it'd been quite odd if she didn't.

Sighing slightly, I looked down at my watch, seeing that it was indeed 4:09. Nine minutes exactly since Emma had been let out of her confinement. Grace was nine minutes late.

"I suppose you should be getting a move on it, then?" I asked, giving Grace both the reassurance and the permission she needed to leave. Grace nodded instantly, but hesitated before she went off in the opposite direction towards the Hospital Wing.

"And you're sure you're all right?" she asked again, still looking worriedly at me. "You really don't look well, Lil."

I waved off her worries with a slight brandishing of my hand. "Yeah, I'm fine," I assured her once more. "I'm just going to go back to the dormitory and sleep. I think that's all I really need—some rest."

"Yeah, all right," Grace agreed, though I could tell she wasn't too happy about leaving me alone when I apparently looked so sickly. "Curl up with one of my trashy books. They're a sure fire way to get you in a better mood, I swear."

I snorted and shook my head. "I wouldn't make it through a single page of that rubbish," I teased, smiling faintly. Grace smiled as well, but was still reluctant to leave. With another stifled giggle, I sent her off on her way with another wave of my hand. "Go!" I laughed, flicking my wrist. "Emma's going to be waiting!"

Grace nodded at my wave, slowly turning around. She threw me once last smile over her shoulder before dashing down the corridor in the direction of the Hospital Wing. When she disappeared around the corner, I let out a small, wistful sigh.

I wasn't cross with her for going to get Emma. As much as it may have seemed like I would be, I really wasn't. Truth be told, I knew deep inside that it should've been me. I should've been the one going up to get her this afternoon. I should've ended this thing ages ago instead of getting as angry as I had. I mean, yes, Emma had messed up. She'd thought the wrong thing and done the wrong thing and that's not going to change. But that's a part of life, isn't it? Aren't mates supposed to forgive one another? Aren't they supposed to stick by each other through thick and thin? And she had tried to apologise in her own slightly off, irrational sort of way. Now I suppose it was my turn. She'd taken the first step last time, now I had to.

And as much as I hate to admit it, it's because of Mac that I am.

I know, I know, I'm a complete and utter liar. I kept saying that his stupid planned intervention had absolutely no effect on me whatsoever, but I think it was rather obvious that it had. I tried not to care, tried to ignore what he was saying and the way he was looking at me—so determined and yet so helpless—but it was no use. The clever little bastard knew exactly how to manipulate me—I am unfortunately very easily manipulated. He pushed all the right buttons.

He was good. Really good.

But I suppose he's not really such a bad bloke, that Mac. Even if he does have an unnervingly dirty talent for manipulation. And he's not exactly the greatest of blokes when he's glaring at you from across the Great Hall, either. But he obviously cares enough about Emma to come talk to someone he supposedly hates, and that has to count for something, doesn't it? And he's smart, and a prefect. Those are some majorly attractive qualities right there. He can't lose points from that. And all right, so he doesn't eat bread. I can get over that. Really, I can. I mean, it's his own prerogative what he sticks in his mouth, isn't it? It's none of my business. It's sort of like James and his disgusting eggs—James likes them, I despise them. I like bread, Mac despises it. We all have our own tastes. Mac's just happen to be a bit odd.

That's not saying that I like him or anything. Mac, I mean. I don't. He's the one who caused this whole thing in the first place, after all. But I suppose I don't hate him anymore. For Emma's sake, I can't. And perhaps for Mac's sake as well, considering the way he had mentioned that he and Emma were not exactly speaking right now. I can only imagine that the riff in the relationship has something to do with this. But like I told Mac, I know they'll be fine. Emma fancies him far too much to just let it all end over something as silly as an insignificant fight with a mate. She wouldn't have kept the relationship from Grace and me for so long if she wasn't completely serious about him. Emma's just like that.

Thinking about Emma and the whole completely out-of-hand situation just succeeded in giving me a bigger headache than the one I had before. I knew what I had to do, but that didn't mean I was looking forward to it. I figured that I could just hold off on the whole apologising thing until later on tonight, after Emma had a chance to settle back in and I had a chance to sleep off my awkward mood. I could just imagine the sort of apology I would spawn in my current state. I imagine it would probably go about as well as Emma's had.

Slouching my way back to Gryffindor Tower, I tried to ignore the sudden pounding of my head and the strong urge to just plop myself down on the floor and go to bed right then and there in the middle of the corridor. I've been having a lot of these random jet lags recently. Perhaps it's from me getting up so early now or something? But it's not like I go to bed late or anything—not usually, anyway—so shouldn't that balance out? I think I'm sick. I must have some sort of sudden-bursts-of-lethargy disease. Very rare and ridiculously annoying. Probably the work of my karma. All bad things always are.

Wanting to run up the stairs, but not having the energy to, I plodded slowly one step at a time up the girls' staircase until I reached the platform that led off to the 7th-Years' dormitory.

"Lily Evans? Absolutely not!"

I stopped frozen on the threshold of the dormitory doorway, my ears perking up at the sound of my name and the very familiar voice that had said it.

Suddenly, not surprisingly, I wasn't so tired any more.

"What do you mean 'absolutely not'? Have you seen the two of them recently?"

"Did you see him this afternoon?"

The door was mostly shut, but was obviously accidentally left open just a crack through which the voices and sounds traveled outside. Through the slight crevice, I could see inside the dormitory. Leaning over silently, holding my breath as to not make a sound, I peeked through the small hole, hardly surprised at what I found.

I had run right smack dab in the middle of an official Butterflies Meeting.

Butterflies as in social butterflies. Butterflies as in Elisabeth Saunders and her various mates, clones and cronies from several different years. Butterflies as in the many people I strive to avoid on a daily basis, whatever the cost.

Yet there they all were, sitting in my dormitory, lounging on my floors, sipping butterbeers and talking about me.

Life's funny like that, isn't it?

I shouldn't have listened. I know I shouldn't have. Nothing they had to say would be something that I wanted to hear. I should have just left right then and there, abandoning my hopes of sleep and just crashing on a couch in the Common Room, but I didn't. It was almost as if I couldn't. I was like the fly drawn to the deadly flame. It was like waving a bowl of rice in front of my face and then telling me to walk in the opposite direction. As much as I knew I shouldn't, I pressed myself closer to the door, taking care not to push it open any farther than it already was, and getting a better look inside.

The group consisted of four girls: Saunders, Carrie Lloyd, June Mackey and Laurie Shacklebolt, a gossipy sixth-year crony who gets along mighty fine with the likes of the three others. It was hard to imagine how so much bad energy could possibly be fit into such a small room, but there you have it, it did. And what were they talking about, anyway? The pair of who? Did they see who this afternoon? And what did it all have to do with me?

"It's just a rumor," Saunders scoffed, drawing my full attention into the room. She was sitting on her bed, Carrie Lloyd lounging next to her, the look on her face showing that she was anything but pleased. "He told me himself that it was just a rumor."

"Then he was lying," June insisted, flipping a strand of her long hair carelessly over her shoulder. "Everyone knows it's true. It's so obvious. They don't even bother hiding it."

Saunders glared at June. "He wasn't lying," she snapped, her face turning red. "He doesn't lie to me, all right? You're all mental."

"Whatever you say, Liz," Carrie sighed, showing that she obviously thought Elisabeth's denial stupid. "But they eat breakfast together early in the morning. Do you honestly think all they're doing is eating?"

My heart suddenly stopped pounding in my chest. Breakfast...rumors...me and...

They couldn't.

"For the last bloody time, James Potter is not dating Lily Evans!"

Oh, shit.

Oh, fuck.

They could.

My blasting headache from just minutes before increased tenfold as the reality of what the group was talking about finally settled in.

They thought James and I were dating. Just like Grace and Sirius had. Just like, apparently, everyone else had. But we weren't. We were so far from dating it was almost funny! How was it that everyone kept getting the wrong idea? What is it about James and me that suddenly screams, 'Oy! Look! Snogging couple walking by!' to all that see us?

WHERE ARE THESE IDIOTS GETTING THESE STUPID IDEAS?!

"Maybe Liz is right," Laurie Shacklebolt spoke up, drawing my attention to her and back to the scene inside. "What about Hogsmeade?"

Hogsmeade?

"That's right!" Saunders huffed triumphantly, sending a smug look towards both June and Carrie. "Explain Hogsmeade, then, would you? Evans is going with Amos Diggory! Why would she be going off with him if she were already dating James?"

I had to force back my cries of agreement as they all contemplated Saunders's question, half of them still trying to come up with excuses to prove her wrong.

They're damn well right I'm going with Amos! Why don't they figure that one out, eh? Why indeed would I be going with Amos if I were dating James? Elisabeth Saunders may be the biggest, prattish, most annoying little pain in the arse I've ever met, but her brain cells were obviously working a fair more than the lot she was hanging around with!

"She's obviously just trying to make him jealous," June explained, having absolutely no idea what she was talking about. "Perhaps they were on the outs when my idiot cousin asked Evans last night. From the way James's been stomping about all day, I'd imagine they've yet to discuss the matter."

I held back a loud groan of frustration. No, no, no! They have it all wrong! James's bad mood has nothing to do with me. It's just an off day! Everyone has off days! He's fine with me dating Amos. He's happy for me. That's what mates do for each other—they support the other in their romantic interludes! And I wasn't trying to make anyone jealous. I want to go with Amos. I've always wanted to go with Amos. I thought June of all people would know that, considering she bribed me with him.

WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THESE GIRLS?

Oh, how did I get myself into this? Why does Hogwarts have to work like a bloody electrical track, gossip traveling at the speed of light? What right do any of these people have to be making assumptions about James and my relationship? What right to they have to know about Amos and me—how did they know about Amos and me? That bloody Hufflepuff very well must have told just about every single bloody person she knew or passed!

Bloody rumors...

"They were passing notes all through Charms," Elisabeth countered, giving June a pointed look. "They've obviously talked. James has better things to do than to be cross with Lily bloody Evans about her frolickings with your cousin, June."

I didn't know whether to be greatly satisfied or greatly offended by Elisabeth's answer.

And Amos and I don't frolic.

"Then maybe they talked it out and now Evans refuses to cancel her date with Diggory," Carrie suggested, she too completely off the mark. "That would get any bloke brassed off, wouldn't it?"

No, we didn't talk it out! No, that's not why he's brassed off!

JAMES POTTER DOES NOT FANCY ME!! WE ARE NOT DATING!! THEY'VE GOT THIS ALL WRONG!!!

"That's not what happened!" Saunders bit out, glaring daggers at Carrie now, obviously tremendously put out about the fact that her clones and cronies were for once not hanging on her every word and whim.

"I don't like it any better than you do, Liz," June said, taking a sip of her butterbeer. "But the facts are the facts. I mean, the girl switched back her rounds so that she could be with James instead of Amos. She's obviously not as interested in my cousin as she lets on."

Well, now wait just a gosh-darned second there! I didn't do that, Amos and James did! I was just the one nodding along! It wasn't me! I had nothing to do with it! The bloody girl was just bitter because James couldn't stand to be near her for even the duration of a few hours!

"You'd never know by the way she goes on about him," Carrie added, rolling her eyes. "I thought she was head over heels for the bloke the way she's always chattering about him with Reynolds and Vance."

I am head over heels for him! I'm going to marry him, NOT JAMES!!

When I found myself fuming and the words and contradictions so close to coming out I had to keep my lips pressed tight together just to keep them in, I realised I had to get out of there. I was sick of all their stupid assumptions and bloody rotten lies and rumors. If I heard any more, I was going to have no other choice but to just burst in there and let them all have it. How dare they sit there and share lies about who I am or aren't dating? I do not want to be one of their topics of gossip!

However, just as I turned to go, I discovered I was obviously not the only one that had finally reached the end of her rope. With a sound of sudden springs from the bed, I heard Elisabeth Saunders's voice shout loud and clear through the crack in the doorway. In fact, I'm sure the girls down in the Slytherin Common Room heard as well, she was yapping so bloody loud.

"You're all mad!" she cried with such venom, I stopped in my tracks. "It doesn't matter whether or not Evans fancies Diggory! James doesn't fancy her! She's a vile, nasty, selfish, stupid little slag and James is so far above her, it's almost comical! I wouldn't be surprised if he's merely hanging about her out of pity!"

My mouth fell open in complete disgust. Vile? Nasty? Stupid and selfish? A slag?

PITY?

Before I even realised what was happening, my feet had begun to move back towards the door.

"But he fancied her something awful in fifth and sixth year," Carrie was arguing as I reached the threshold of the doorway once more. Elisabeth's voice rang out again, and I barely registered it, so consumed by my own anger.

"So? That's rubbish now. He doesn't fancy her anymore. He told me he didn't. He—"

"—can make up his own mind about who to date with or without your consent and approval, can he not?"

All eyes flew to doorway as I entered the room, pushing open the door with a small, suave smile. I forced myself to keep my exterior calm and collected, not showing even a wisp of the anger and disgust I was feeling inside. I hid my delight as I took in Saunders's shocked expression, Carrie's obvious astonishment, and June Mackey's gaping mouth. Laurie Shacklebolt had started choking on her butterbeer. No one spoke.

Recovering from her shock with an uncomfortable cough, Elisabeth's wide-eyed expression easily turned to that of a glare. "Eavesdropping, were you, Evans?" she asked haughtily.

I shrugged my shoulders carelessly, stepping farther into the dormitory as I slid my rucksack upon my four-poster bed, ignoring the gazes that followed my every movement. I could feel the suaveness that periodically made its presence known inside of me return once more as I turned back around to face the startled and disoriented foursome.

"Didn't your mothers ever teach you not to gossip?" I countered, cocking an eyebrow. When no one said anything in response, I let out a soft, knowing laugh, clicking my tongue disapprovingly. "You get all the wrong information that way, you know."

"All the wrong information?" I could practically see Laurie Shacklebolt's gossip-prone ears instantly perk up at my quip. "What sort of wrong information have we got then, Lily? Care to share?"

It occurred to me then that I was no longer in control of what was coming out of my mouth. My suaveness combined with my stupid, lying, traitor-of-a-mouth had completely taken over, and was spouting out things that I knew would somehow get me in trouble. But I was too far gone to come out, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't enjoyed the reactions my completely too-suave-to-be-true comments were getting from the dastardly Butterflies I would've gladly enjoyed murdering but moments before.

"What do you want to know?" I answered evasively, knowing Laurie would not hold back on anything.

Just as expected, Laurie clapped her hands greedily, thriving on my response. "Are you and James Potter really dating?" was the first thing she asked. "And what about Amos Diggory? Don't tell me you're snogging them both at the same time? I didn't think you had it in you!"

I let out another light laugh, giving Laurie a small shrug. "Oh, Amos is a darling," I responded truthfully, a pointed look headed in June Mackey's direction. She shifted uncomfortably under my gaze. "I'm going to Hogsmeade with him next week."

"And James?" Laurie asked, not missing a beat.

"James," I repeated, a small smile on my lips. "Well, what's there to say about him, hm? He's smart and he's funny and—well, I'm sure I'm not the first to say that he makes my heart beat a little faster, right?" Laurie nodded furiously, anticipating more dirt and good gossip. She had no way of knowing that this was not even me speaking, but my mouth, who had a complete mind of its own and thoroughly enjoyed lying to people for absolutely no reason whatsoever. I shook my head regrettably, taking silent pride in Elisabeth's stunned expression as I continued, "I don't know why it took me this long to notice it—Merlin knows he was desperate for date with me a few years back. However—luckily—now he—"

"—wouldn't waste his time with a stupid slag like you even if you paid him," came Elisabeth's scathing interruption, her eyes narrowing dangerously on me, her stunned expression now gone and replaced with one of pure hatred. Her comment stung, as they always seemed to, but this time I didn't let it faze me. With a sudden burst of anger inside, I glared back at her, letting the temper I'd been keeping dormant inside flare externally for the first time in the conversation. "Isn't that right, Evans?" she continued softly, her voice holding an obvious tone of condescension, thinking she'd caught me in my lies. She turned back to her mates, giving off a careless laugh as if my presence and words hadn't just completely thrown her off moments before. "The stupid Mudblood wouldn't be able to keep anyone's attention—much less James Potter's—for even a second." She faced me once more, her look showing the superiority she obviously felt. "He may have fancied you once, Evans," she whispered venomously, "but that's all over now, isn't it?"

My head was saying yes, screaming that she was right. James may have fancied me at one point, but he didn't anymore. I knew he didn't. He had failed the test. I had wanted him to fail the test. However, staring at Saunders, watching her lips curl into that self-satisfied smile of hers, the words that tumbled out next were not what they should've been.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you," I shot back with such force and benediction that Saunders's recoiled back for a slight moment. "You know what they say don't you?" I continued, my voice now taking on the superior tone that hers had held but moments before. I paused, my gaze boring into hers as I quietly punctuated each of my next four words, "Old habits die hard."

Elisabeth's mouth fell open.

"Or in this case," I blurted out, unable to stop myself, "I suppose it'd be old loves die hard, wouldn't it?"

My last taunt earned an instant squeal out of the gossip-mad Laurie Shacklebolt, as Elisabeth continued to hold my gaze, her confidence and superiority faltering with every second. It took me a few moments to even realise myself what I had just said. Old habits die hard? Old loves die hard? Did I just...?

Oh my god.

Oh, fuck, I had.

Or more truthfully, my traitor-of-a-mouth had.

But really, either way you looked at it, I had just publicly announced what I had been struggling to denounce for the last week and a half.

I had just told Elisabeth Saunders I was dating James Potter.

"You're lying," Saunders snapped, her voice low and deadly. "He said you weren't dating. You're with Diggory. He's not—"

"You sure about that?" I said, even as I began to internally panic about what my mouth was for some reason trying to enforce into these girls' heads. Elisabeth wouldn't answer my retort, but her glares became so fierce that she didn't have to. I could tell merely from her expression that she was eating up all of my lies.

I wasn't sure whether to feel happy or terrified by that.

"So you are?" Laurie asked excitedly from the behind Saunders, twitching sporadically with the thrill of it all. "You and James Potter are dating?"

If I had let my bloody rotten mouth do as it pleased, what would've came out of my mouth next probably would've been something along the lines of a 'But of course," or a "You thought otherwise?" or perhaps even a bit more hostile, "You're damn well right!" All of which would be complete and utter lies, but would somehow all be perfectly acceptable according to my lying, traitorous, goes-on-by-itself-with-absolutely-no-thought-to-the-truth-and-validity-of-what-it's-going-on-about mouth.

So exercising perhaps the only small amount of restrain I had against my independent mouth, I forced myself to shrug. "I suppose you can form your own conclusions, can't you, Laurie?"

Laurie seemed about as disappointed as my mouth by my noncommittal answer. Slightly put off that she hadn't received a straight-out confession, but not completely discouraged, Laurie smiled widely, looking towards Carrie and June for confirmation on what she'd just heard. Carrie was staring at me, her eyes as wide as saucers, while June was looking anywhere but, drinking her butterbeer as a sort of diversion. Their nonexistent consent seemed to be enough for Laurie, and her smile only grew.

"Interesting," she said with a grin, her eyebrows wiggling.

Obviously having about enough, Elisabeth smacked Laurie in the back of the head, her glare switching back and forth between Laurie and me. "She's lying, you twit!" she cried, her arms folding angrily across her chest. "You don't honestly believe all of these lies, do you?" She turned her full attention back on me, the hatred burning through me as she glowered. "You're a bloody liar. You had better quit trying to make your bloody Mudblood self into something you're not, because anyone with half a brain can see right through your facade." Her feet moved with every word she said, stepping closer and closer to where I was standing. She stopped only when she stood directly in front of me. Elisabeth's voice lowered dangerously. "You have no idea what you're up against, Evans."

What? A bitter, self-absorbed drunk?

The words were there on the tip of my tongue, dying to come out, but were shoved back in before they had a chance to break the surface. Not even my traitor-of-a-mouth had the guts or the nerve to go there. As angry as I was at Elisabeth and her stupid, pretentious self, there were just some things you don't say in the heat of the moment—especially in front of other people. Not that Saunders's supposed drinking problem was probably a secret from her mates—James seemed to know an awful bit about it anyway—but it was really the principle of the thing. I couldn't—wouldn't—sink that low. Not only would I have to deal with Saunders's wrath, but I don't think James would be too pleased with me either, and considering the fact that I'd already just falsely claimed him to be my boyfriend, I don't think it'd be intelligent to toy with any more of my new mate's thin patience. So while my mouth usually hardly cared about saying things it shouldn't, it seemed that this was a case of its own. My mouth remained clamped together, the words dying on my lips.

Sometimes I really hate having a conscience.

"Believe what you want, Saunders," I said instead a few moments later, my voice holding that sort of challenge that I knew would drive her mad. I began backing away towards the door, my eyes never leaving Elisabeth's, but my heart pulsing frantically in my chest. When I finally pulled my gaze away from her hate-filled stare, I didn't look towards any of the other girls in the room as I turned. I didn't speak again as I pulled open the dormitory door, silently stepped out, and closed it tightly behind me.

Once outside the room, my hand dropped from the doorknob slowly. I stood frozen in the shadows of the girls' staircase. Gradually, the realisation of what I had just done—what I had just professed—hit me harder than it had when it had first blurted out of my mouth

I suddenly felt terminally ill.

And almost directly after my sudden burst of illness hit, I knew more surely than I did anything else that I needed to get out of there.

I needed to find James.

I needed to find James and tell him that I'd just informed his ex-girlfriend and her mates that we were dating.

With a shot of panic propelling me forward, I began to run down the stairs…

...and straight into someone coming up, almost knocking them over and sending them to a sure and sudden death in my rush to get away.

It was just what I need right about then.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I was—"

"Lily?"

My eyes shot up to the person I had all but knocked down the staircase, my heart pounding even harder when I caught sight of who I had just very nearly killed.

Emmeline.

I held back a groan.

Oh, yeah. This was really just what I needed.

Emma was blinking owlishly up at me, her eyes filled with shock and her face slightly pale, though whether that was because of her recent illness or the fact that I had nearly just killed her, I couldn't be sure.

"Lily?" she repeated, her voice oddly raspy. "Is everything all right? What's the matter?"

I almost laughed at the question. What was the matter? What was the matter? What wasn't the matter? I had just told my arch nemesis and her mates that I was dating my new, currently extremely angry mate, and I had just nearly knocked my former best mate down the stairs!

But things were fine. Everything was just peachy-keen.

I'd never wanted to kill myself as much as I did right about then.

"Lily?" Emma asked again, stepping up a few more stairs when I still failed to answer, and merely stared. "Lily, what's wrong? Is it—"

I began shaking my head frantically, already beginning to continue down the stairs, pushing past Emma in my haste to get away. I just couldn't deal with all of it right then. I could only handle one life-altering dramatic problem at a time. Emma would have to take her place on line. I'd call her number when I was done dealing with James.

"I have to...I have to go," I muttered as I continued on down the stairs, trying to ignore the hurt expression on Emma's face as I rushed past her. "I'm sorry."

"Lily, wait—"

But I ignored her pleas and just continued down the stairs, my legs moving faster than they ever had before. When I reached the bottom of the staircase, I had to hold back another large groan as I was met with another pestering adversary.

I needed to find James.

But where was James?

I hadn't seen him since he'd stalked off outside during lunch, but Merlin only knew where the bloke was now. He could be anywhere. He could be halfway to Guam by now. And if he was, he was very inconsiderate not to have taken me with him.

Scanning the Common Room, not exactly sure what I was looking for, but having no clue what else to do, I looked around for any sort of idea or inclination or epiphany...and then I found it.

"Sirius! Sirius Black!"

Tucked away in the corner, sitting at one of the many tables located in the Common Room, Sirius was sitting along side Remus and Peter, who appeared to be engaged in a rather intense chess match. Sirius seemed to be trying to psych out whichever one of his mates whose turn it was to move.

"I know what you're thinking, Moony," Sirius was saying to Remus as I rushed over to where the group was sitting. "And trust me, just don't do it. It's not a good move. You're going to regret it."

"Shut up, Padfoot."

"But he's right," Peter insisted, leaning back in his chair as he grinned smugly at Remus. "You can't beat me, Moony. Just throw in the towel. Don't even bother. I'm unstoppable."

"Er, I wouldn't be too sure about that, Pete," Sirius informed Peter slowly, now singing an entirely different tune. "I just saw what Remus is thinking now, and let me tell you, it's good—"

"Sirius, where's James?"

The bloke in question paused in his troublemaking and turned to face me with a look of surprise.

"'Lo, Lily," Peter greeted, giving me a light wave from his still laidback position.

"Hi," I said quickly, shooting Peter back a small smile. "Do any of you know where he is?"

"Is something wrong?" Remus asked, looking at me oddly. I must have looked a lot more panicked than I previously thought.

"Er, not yet," I answered with a slight wince, so not up for any more lying. The three Marauders exchanged curious looks.

Sirius glanced over at me, his face hard to read. "Look, Evans," he said slowly, a small sigh escaping his lips. "I know you birds are all for the 'let's talk it out and make it feel better' codswallop, but that's not going to cut it for us blokes."

"I'm not trying—"

"Just let him cool off for a day, all right? If it makes you feel better, I went to go check on him before."

"And?"

"And he threw a Quaffle at my head," Sirius responded dryly.

I cringed. "Er, and when exactly was this?"

"Twenty minutes ago."

I sighed heavily, rubbing at my eyes tiredly. I considered for a second putting the entire thing off. I mean, this could wait until tomorrow, couldn't it? James was in no condition to hear what I had to say tonight. He wasn't in any condition to do anything, really. Sirius was lucky, he had reflexes. Had a Quaffle been thrown at me, I very highly doubt I would come out unscathed. My reflexes are all but nonexistent. I could hold off on my embarrassing confession for one day. Nothing was going to happen in the short term of a few hours. I'd just tell him tomorrow when he was feeling more like himself and was less likely to murder me with his broomstick or with a Bludger or something.

I'd just made up my mind to do just that when a sudden familiar giggle let off behind me. I turned my head towards the girls' staircase. Climbing down the stairs, giggling furiously as she whispered rapidly behind her hand to another girl, was Laurie Shacklebolt. When she looked up and saw me staring, she smiled widely and then began whispering even more quickly to her mate. Her mate looked up, saw me staring, and then grinned as well.

That's when I knew there was no putting this off.

I turned back to Sirius, the headache that had slowly been forgotten from earlier before returning now in full force. "The Quidditch Pitch, then?" I asked him quickly.

Sirius nodded. "But Evans—Evans!"

I ignored the calls of Sirius behind me, thinking only of getting to James before someone else could. I ran out of the portrait hole, very nearly knocking over a helpless first-year in my haste to get out. I called a quick apology behind my shoulder, but didn't stop—couldn't stop. The image of Laurie Shacklebolt whispering and giggling as she and her mate looked me over caused an uncharacteristic sob to escape my lips. The last thing I needed was some extended part of the Hogwarts gossip mill letting a still cross James know that I had accidentally informed his ex-girlfriend and her gossipy mates that we were dating. I could just imagine how that would go. You thought James was in a mood before...

Sirius had gotten a Quaffle. I was probably going to get a knife.

Or maybe not a knife. Maybe James would think it too much effort to conjure something. Maybe he'd just sort of jump off his broom, land directly on top of me and just start strangling me until I was dead.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

And you know what? I wouldn't even blame him.

Rushing through the corridors, ignoring the strange looks I was receiving from the people who I ran by and the calls to slow down from Professor McGonagall as I whipped past her, the image of James strangling me in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch played in my head.

It wasn't exactly the prettiest image to have constantly running through your mind.

I tried not to wince as I pushed out of the front doors, the cold air sweeping through me as I realised I didn't bring along my cloak. My robes, however useful inside, didn't stand a chance out in the bitter cold. It would just figure that I would have to be outside on an abnormally freezing day.

Bloody karma...gets me into all of these stupid messes...

By the time I reached the Quidditch Pitch, I was completely freezing, utterly panicked and more than a little bit out of breath. I leaned my back against one of the stands, closing my eyes and breathing deeply, contenting myself with the fact that I had made it here before anyone else possibly could. Pausing for a moment, waiting for my heart rate to return back to a normal state, I tiredly pushed off of the stands, my legs feeling like jelly. Walking around the large stand, holding on with one hand for support, I glanced up into the sky, watching as a small blur flew about.

Or in all actuality, perhaps it was more graceful and insane falling than it was flying.

Anyone who ever said James Potter didn't have a talent for flying was obviously out of their minds.

As I watched him up in the air, I had to hold back a scream as I saw what he was doing. I mean, I know he was angry and everything, and that the little tricks he was pulling were probably just child's play for him, but honestly, was he trying to kill himself? Who would willingly fly like that? Who? Is he mad? He must be. He had to be. Anyone would think so. I mean, when you see someone plunging straight for the ground and then pulling back up right before they're smashed into little bits and pieces, wouldn't you think them a little off? Especially when, just after they succeeded in skirting death by broom, they fly right back up and do it again? Is that necessary? Was he trying to give me a heart attack? Was he trying to give himself a heart attack?

This just further proves my point that Quidditch and flying permanently mess with the brain.

Seriously. You no longer think logically or safely. It's a drug disguised as a sport, and everyone is peer pressured into doing it. It's one of those, "Oh, come on, Lily, let's go play Quidditch. Everyone's doing it." type of things where you just have to step back and say, "No, thank you. I'd rather live to see tomorrow."

Because let me tell you, Quidditch kills.

And when James smacks into the ground and cracks his head open, he's going to realise that. But by then, I'm afraid it will be too late.

Such are the trials and tribulations of an addict's life.

So as I stood there watching him, wincing every time he came a little too close to the ground for my liking, I considered yelling up to him to let him know I was there. But when James came hurtling down for the fifth or sixth time and I saw the tenseness in his jaw and that blank sort of expression on his face, I thought it perhaps wiser to wait until he had a few more near-death experiences to calm him down.

Maybe if he valued his life enough, he wouldn't be so quick to take mine.

So now here I am, sitting up in the Gryffindor stands, watching James attempt to kill himself (now he's doing these completely unnecessary loops and spins as he plunges to the ground. Bloody moron...), waiting for him to decide he's had enough. I suppose it doesn't matter if I don't tell him straight away now, as long as he's within my eyesight and I can make sure no gossipy prat gets any ideas to tell him what I've done before I can. I figure that if I let him cool off enough, maybe it'll just sort of be one of those things we can look back on and laugh at, you know? No hard feelings, no anger, no murder—

Wait, what is he doing?

Is he...

He can't be done already! He can't leave.

WAIT, YOU STUPID PRAT!!

Later, Still In the Quidditch Stands
Observant Lily: Day 17
Total Observations: 118

"James! James Potter!"

I was screaming his name off the top of my lungs, running with every bit of energy I had left to catch up with him before he entered the locker room where I would no longer be able to keep an eye on him, and it still took him ages to realise that I was there. He just continued stalking off towards the locker room in much the same fashion that he had stalked off during lunch this afternoon, completely ignoring my urgent cries and frantically waving hands.

Was he deaf?

"JAMES POTTER! WILL YOU JUST WAIT ONE BLOODY MINUTE PLEASE?!"

My last call seemed to be enough to wake the living dead—or in this case, James—and he finally turned around just outside the locker room door. I quickly caught up to him, coughing and wheezing as I stopped just before him, completely knackered and more than a bit annoyed.

"Are you...trying...to kill me?" I heaved, grabbing his shoulder for support as I leaned over and continued to pant. "Are you...absolutely...deaf or something?"

"What are you doing out here, Lily?" he asked curtly, choosing to completely ignore my wheezing accusations. I rose slowly from my crouched position, fixing him with a good glare as I continued to breathe heavily.

"I needed to talk to you," I told him irritably, so not up for his 'I'm so cross' nonsense when I had just sprinted across the entire Quidditch pitch, yelling and screaming like a bloody maniac, being completely ignored by him. He wanted to talk anger? How about the immensely painful, utterly annoying cramp in my side I now had because of him? I could be angry as well, you know! "Just...give me a second, all right? I have to make sure I can...recover properly from that kilometer long sprint I just ran."

James rolled his eyes and started taking a few steps towards the locker room. "Listen, Lily, I'm really not in the mood. This can wait—"

"No, it can't!" I snapped, trying to stop him from leaving while also trying to stop the oncoming heart attack I could feel beginning in my chest. I seriously need to start exercising more.

"Then what?" James demanded, his eyes narrowing on me. "Say what you have to say and be done with it, all right? I need to shower."

I glowered at him once more, not about to argue with that fact. He was a complete mess from all the flying, his hair reaching a new point of disarray, his face and hands covered in dirt smudges. There was even a small cut on his forehead, probably from one of the several times he hadn't managed to pull up quickly enough from his dives. Plus, he smelled something horrid.

But as I went to open my mouth, ready to just let him have it, not even caring if he got even more cross with me or if he attempted to kill me or anything like that, I found that nothing was coming out. Not because I didn't want anything to come out, mind you, but because I didn't know what to say.

How do you tell someone that you had just publicly announced you were dating?

Suddenly, I found my anger seeping out and my panic beginning to seep back in. James continued to glare, unaware of the major feeling switch that had just occurred inside of me.

"Well?"

"I...it's..." I struggled with the words, trying to force them out, knowing I had to, but really not wanting to.

I made a mistake.

I lied something wretched.

Elisabeth Saunders thinks we're dating.

I could've said anything, could've just sat him down and explained the entire thing to him, calmly and rationally. I could've done that, but I didn't. I was far too much of a chicken to actually say it straight out. As much as I wanted to tell him everything, my mouth seemed to have a different idea, and instead what came out was, "Do you know when you say something, and it maybe comes out in a way you didn't exactly want it to?"

Or in my case, exactly the way I had wanted it to, but no longer want it to anymore?

James stared at me blankly. "What?"

"When you say something, but it comes out wrong," I told him again, really not making any more sense than I had the first time. "But then you say it, and people hear it, and perhaps they make certain assumptions that really aren't true at all—and you know they aren't true and you don't want them to be true, really you don't!—but they still make them anyway, and then—"

"Lily!" James held up his hand to stop my rambling. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

I sighed, wondering exactly the same thing.

"Look," I said, shaking my head and trying to shake off my insanity for just one moment so I could let this make sense. "I...when you go back inside, you might hear...er...something."

"Something?"

"Yeah, something. But don't believe it—I mean, you probably wouldn't anyway, just with it being so silly and all, but you know how rumors start and things get a bit out of hand—and really, the whole thing was just taken completely out of context, so..."

I trailed off, getting a good look at James's confused face and just stopping while I was ahead. I really am just rubbish with words. I sighed, massaging my temples and throwing James a helpless look. "Just...ignore whatever you hear, all right?"

James paused, then nodded. "Is everything all right?" he asked.

I had to wonder why everyone seemed to be asking that. Was anything ever right? Of course not. Nothing ever is. And with my luck, nothing ever will be.

"Er...yeah, everything's fine," I lied, scratching the back of my head and looking away, not able to take lying to everyone anymore.

James didn't look convinced, and for the first time all afternoon, he wasn't scowling at me either. "You sure?" he asked again.

I nodded. "Yeah. Fine. Fabulous. Just...remember to ignore anything you may hear, all right? Because it's not true."

James nodded back. "Right. Not true. I got that."

"And even if someone tells you that I said it was true—"

"You didn't," James finished.

I looked away again. "Er, well, actually, I sort of did. But it was just..."

"Taken out of context?" James tried again. I let out small smile and nodded.

"Yeah. Context."

We stood there in silence for a few moments.

"Lily?"

"Hm?"

"I'm not entirely sure what you just told me, but can I go shower now? My own stench is starting to get to me."

Snapping back to life, I laughed lightly, nodding my head and waving James off into the locker room with my hand. "Yeah, of course. You do sort of smell."

"Thanks," he replied flatly.

I grinned at him as he began to turn. "See you later then," I called, sending him what I hoped was a supporting smile. "And don't forget to—"

"Ignore what I hear. Yeah, I know."

Then he disappeared through the doors.

Later, Library
Observant Lily: Day 17
Total Observations: 118

I know to the average observer, it probably seems like I live in here or something, considering I almost never leave, but if they only really sat down to hear the truth, they'd realise that I totally have valid reasons for being in here so much. It's not that I love Madame Pince (she enjoys screeching at me in French. Do I speak French, Madame Pince? No, I don't. I don't understand what you're saying, so please just stop talking to me), I don't really enjoy the books (1001 Ways to Grow a Frutis Plant by Timothy Rightly...exactly what I look for in quality reading) and it's not because I enjoy doing my homework either. The reason is actually rather simple: there's no other place in the whole of Hogwarts where people are forced to be quiet.

Yeah, that's it. That's all I want right now. Quiet.

Because in the library, even though people may be whispering about you—and believe me, they are—I can't hear them do it. And if I can't hear them do it, I can pretend they're not. Moreover, if I can pretend they're not talking about me, I can almost pretend that I didn't tell Elisabeth Saunders and her rubbish mates that I was dating James Potter earlier this afternoon. I can also start to pretend that I don't know that Emma is currently waiting up in our dormitory, totally deserving a rather good apology from me for being such a prat, but not going to receive one on account of I haven't called her number yet. And all this pretending, it can't be done anywhere but the library.

So here I am.

And I don't expect to be leaving anytime soon.

So if anyone feels the need to just set up a bed in here for me, all I have to say is, more power to them. Go ahead. I really wouldn't object. The section all the way to the left seems like a nice spot—very roomy and right smack dab in the middle of the Charms section. I really like Charms. I really like beds too. Why not put them together, right?

Yes, that wouldn't be so bad...

Later, Still in the Library
Observant Lily: Day 17
Total Observations: 118

I was still in the library, searching for a book that would help me with my Potions assignment in the hidden shelves towards the back of the room when he found me.

"What exactly are you trying to do, Lily Evans?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of the familiar, whispering voice, wincing when I realised just who it belonged to. He was so close to me, I could feel his breath playing at my ear, but I didn't dare turn around to face him. I couldn't stand to look at him right then. My face was so red I could practically see the color reflecting in front of me. How could he have possibly found out so quickly? Who the bloody hell had told him? And maybe most importantly, how long was it going to be before he started strangling me?

I was so dead.

"Listen, James..."

"Old habits die hard? Old habits die hard, Lily?"

At the sound of the familiar words, my head whipped around, my eyes wide with shock and confusion, not because of what he'd said, but because of the way he'd said it...

He was laughing.

Laughing!

"I...it...wait, what?"

James continued to laugh, completely ignoring the stunned expression on my face as he shook his head at me in mock-disappointment. "Don't tell me you've forgotten already?"

"No, no, I remember that," I told him quickly. "But why are you laughing? How are laughing? Do you not realise what I've done?"

James smiled widely. "I realise exactly what you've done, you big fat liar."

He was trying to turn this all into a joke and I didn't know why. He should have been angry—I had expected him to be angry. He would have had every right to just come over here, knock me hard over the head and deposit my body back here somewhere where no one would ever find it. And with the mood he had been in all day...but he was laughing.

Laughing!

I didn't get it. What had I missed?

"Um, I don't think you do, James," I said slowly, looking cautiously upon his wide smile. "I mean, not that I'm not extremely glad that you're looking at this with humor—go with that feeling. Really. Please—but I'm not sure you really understand—"

"Understand what?" he asked. "That you told Elisabeth and her mates that we were dating?"

"I didn't tell them," I protested automatically. "It just sort of...slipped out."

"Slipped out?" James snorted. "That's not exactly the way I hear it, Evans."

"Oh and how do you hear it?"

James wiggled his eyebrows, raising his voice to that ever-familiar high-pitched sound that I suppose was supposed to resemble me. "Oh, that James Potter, he's so smart and so funny, and oh, he makes my heart beat a little faster—Hey! Ow! Don't hit me!"

I glared furiously at him. "What? Did they give you the bloody play-by-play or something?"

James grinned, rubbing the spot on his arm where I had just punched him what I hoped was rather hard. "Yeah, well, I ran into Laurie Shacklebolt and a few of her mates," he said as way of explanation. I groaned aloud.

"What did you say?" I asked.

"What was I supposed to say?"

"Well, you..."

I stopped.

Wait a second.

What was he supposed to say?

What was I supposed to say for that matter?

I mean, if we told everyone the truth—that James and I were in fact, only mates, I'd never get Elisabeth off my back. She'd strut around, throwing in her biting insults and reminders of the time I had tried to fool them all by saying James Potter would actually look twice at me. I'd never live it down. And then all of Hogwarts would know that their Head Girl is nothing but a stupid, lying twit. And maybe I deserve it, maybe I shouldn't have lied about it in the first place, but honestly, that's like a lifelong punishment. That would hardly be fair, would it?

And there was no way I could actually go along with what I had said, either. That would mean I would somehow have to be dating James—which I'm not, and won't—because then Amos—

Oh, Merlin, Amos!

Had they gotten to him as well? Did he know what was going on? Oh, of course he did! I bet that stupid prattish ninny Laurie hopped right from James and straight to Amos, her bloody tongue wagging like mad. Oh, Merlin, what is he going to think? I mean, you don't just go and accept a date from one bloke on one day and then announce to the public that you're dating someone else the very next day! But I did. I did and now Amos is probably going to hate me forever.

No. He won't hate me. He can't hate me. I'll just calmly go explain to him the situation...

Oh, what situation? The one where I freely and openly confessed to Elisabeth Saunders and her mates that I was dating James Potter? That situation? Oh, yeah, that would go over well. "Sorry about all this, Amos. I didn't really mean to say that—well, I mean, I did, but I didn't really mean it, mean it. It isn't true. I was just lying. I tend to do that...a lot."

Oh, god...what am I going to do...just when he was beginning to love me, I had to go and ruin it all, didn't I? I couldn't keep everything good and wonderful for even a few moments? I couldn't even last a day! One bloody day!

This is horrible. This is dreadful. This is so much worse than I thought it was going to be—

"Lily? Lily, are you all right?"

"No, I'm not all right!" I snapped, taking my anger at the situation out on James. He looked startled at my outburst, but thankfully didn't respond with his own bout of anger. His pity filled looks only made me feel even more dreadful. "I don't know what to do," I moaned, burying my face in my hands.

"Look, it's not that big of a deal, just—"

"It is that big of a deal!" I told him, my voice no longer angry, but desperate. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for Amos Diggory to ask me out, James. It's almost pathetic, really. And now that he finally has, I had to go and ruin it all because Elisabeth Saunders said a few nasty things about me—"

"You didn't ruin anything," James sighed, shaking his head. "Diggory isn't going to give up dating you just because of some stupid rumors."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because...because I just know he won't, all right?" James sighed again, looking away from me. "Just...let's get out of here."

I stared at him curiously. "Why?"

"Because I'm sick of whispering, that's why. Now come on."

James grabbed my hand and I let him pull me, not having the strength to fight off his request after having gotten myself so upset. He pulled me through the rows of bookshelves silently. It was only when we had nearly reached the doors when I spoke up as I remembered my abandoned things left at the table over by Madame Pince.

"My stuff," I told him weakly, motioning over to where my books and bag now laid abandoned. "It's over there at that table. I can't leave it here. I have to go get it."

James sighed heavily, looking at me pointedly, and then looking over towards where my things were located. "Then we're going to have to cross through the middle," he told me.

"The middle of what?" I asked.

"The middle of the library."

It took me a few seconds to realise what he was saying. Up until that point, we had made our way to the front doors through the rows of bookshelves, hidden from view by the tall cases. However, crossing through the middle meant stepping out into clear view. Crossing the middle meant making the whole 'let's pretend no one's whispering about you,' thing all pretty worthless, because once you crossed, there was no way they weren't talking about you. Crossing through the middle meant pretty much giving the gossip mill another story to stretch and skew to their liking.

We'd be walking straight into the battlefield, hand and hand.

Literally.

I took a deep breath, throwing James a small smile as I tugged my hand from his, but motioned for him to follow me. "Let's go."

And so we did. Crossing the library wasn't half as bad as it really could've been, I suppose, considering Madame Pince had luckily chose that precise moment to loudly tell off a group of second years for—as I could tell from her yelling—'talking and dillydallying in her library'. The distraction that the librarian caused diverted the attention of most of the students in the room. Only a selected few noticed as James and I walked to my table and began quickly gathering up my things. Those few, of course, then began loudly whispering to each other, quite able to do so as their voices were drowned out by the sound of Madame Pince's bellows, but James and I ignored them rather well, grabbed my books and hightailed it out of there, even before Madame Pince had finished her rant.

Once out in the corridor, I let out a breath of relief.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," I said, shoving a few of my books that I'd had to carry because of the rush into my rucksack. James nodded.

"I never thought I'd actually enjoy hearing that old bag yell."

I laughed a bit and nodded back. We walked down the corridor in mostly silence, me lost in my own thoughts of Amos and Saunders and possibly strangling Laurie Shacklebolt, who has perhaps an even worse mouth than I do, and James lost in this own thoughts about...I don't know. Whatever it is that James Potter thinks about.

Until suddenly, out of absolutely nowhere, James burst out laughing.

Again.

That was really getting old.

"What?" I asked, obviously thinking I had missed something.

James shook his head, unable to speak through all his laughter. "I...it's just..." He then began laughing again, possibly even harder than he had before. I threw him a strange look, waiting for him to shut up long enough to tell me what could possibly be so funny. "It's...that..."

"Yes?" I prodded

"You...you're such a liar!"

Then he began cracking up again.

I groaned aloud, rolling my eyes and giving James a good shove in his side as he completely ignored me and continued to laugh. "It's not funny," I muttered, glaring.

James didn't respond for a few moments, still somehow finding the entire situation even more hilarious as the seconds wore on and powerless to speak because of it. When he'd finally seem to calm down, he would look over at me, his face would remain straight for but a moment, and then he'd start up all over again. I fought back the urge to hit him again.

"I'm sorry," he was finally able to sputter out. "But come on, Lily, you have to admit the entire thing is a bit on the funny side."

Funny? Funny? Was he mad? Of course, it wasn't funny! It was so far from funny that I couldn't even conceive how he could possibly be laughing. I mean, I know he said he understood what was going on, but he so obviously didn't. He couldn't. If he did, he definitely wouldn't be laughing.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," he said when I refused to respond to his 'funny' remark and just continued to stare moodily at him. "Look," he continued, a small smile on his face. "Just see it from my perspective, all right?"

"I am," I told him testily. "And with all due respect to your obviously nonexistent sanity, it looks even worse from your side."

James shook his head. "Don't think about the details," he told me. "Think about the whole picture here."

I stared at him blankly. Whole picture? Details? What the bloody hell was he on about now?

"Ever since fourth year," James started to explain, when I obviously failed to grasp the humorous concept of 'the whole picture', "I've had you up on a sort of pedestal, you know?"

"Pedestal?" I asked.

"Yeah," James nodded. "I mean, you...you're Lily Evans. You're perfect. You're smart, you're nice, you're beautiful, you're confident and clever, the professors adore you—everyone loves you—you were a prefect, you always followed the rules, never did wrong..."

I blushed furiously, ignoring the self-conscious flutter in my stomach as he went on and on about my supposed perfection. However utterly and completely wrong he was about mostly everything he was saying, I'm not going to lie and pretend I didn't enjoy hearing him say it anyway. I'm only human, after all.

"You," he continued pointedly, throwing me a small smile as I began to resemble a tomato more and more, "were the Infallible Lily Evans."

"Infallible?" I choked out. "Hardly!"

James grinned again. "Yes, well, now I see your true colours..."

"My true colours?" I asked, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, yeah," James nodded, still grinning as he began counting things out on his fingers. "You bribe people with chocolate when they're cross with you, you lie—quite often actually, almost pathologically. Perhaps you should get that checked out, there, Lil—you defy your professors by telling them their assignments are rubbish—"

"Because you told me to!"

"—you're quite the tease, having a boyfriend on one side and accepting dates from some other bloke as well—"

"Hey! That's not—"

"—you're the biggest pain in the arse sometimes, it's almost funny; you have a major inferiority complex, though really, Merlin only knows why—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Are you nearly done yet?"

"—nearly—and maybe, most importantly, you're almost absolutely nothing like I ever imagined you were."

James stopped talking then, dropping the hand he'd been counting off his list on to his side. I stared at him blankly.

"You done tearing me to shreds, then?" I asked.

"I wasn't tearing you to shreds," he insisted. "I never said any of those things were bad qualities."

"Oh, you didn't?" I asked with a snort of disbelief. James shook his head.

"Not at all. Quite the opposite actually." He shrugged his shoulders, sending me a sideways glance. "Imperfection is perhaps the best perfection. All I'm saying is that contrary to what I thought—the humorous part of this really—is that as it turns out, the Infallible Lily Evans...she...er..."

"Falls?" I offered.

James nodded. "Yeah. Falls."

"A lot," I added flatly.

James laughed. "No more than anyone else," he responded.

I really almost laughed at that. Oh if only he knew...

"Well, you know," I said, nudging James in the shoulder as we continued walking down the corridor. "You're not exactly what I expected either."

James groaned with a laugh. "Oh, brilliant, here it comes..."

"Firstly," I started, taking silent glee in turning the tables, "you're completely incorrigible—perhaps not as much as I previously thought, but still completely unbearable sometimes. You can be the biggest arse I know and for some reason, need to have a response to absolutely everything. Then there's the mood swings—oh, the mood swings! I've never met someone who's so up one moment and so down in the next in my entire life. Like today! First, you're abusing players with your bad mood, then you're laughing so loud I have to tell you to shut up, then you're stomping through the Great Hall like you're on a murder path and now you're just laughing it up like no other! What's up with that there, Potter? Please tell me you're bipolar or something, because that's really the only explanation I can think of."

James scratched the back of his head, throwing me a small grin. "I suppose things were just put into perspective all of a sudden," he told me.

"Oh, really?" I asked. "How is that?"

"Well," he started, "there I was, standing there listening to Laurie Shacklebolt tell a rather miraculously thorough retelling of your conversation earlier this afternoon, when suddenly I realised, you know what, James? Things could be worse."

"How?"

"Well," James answered, a foolish grin on his lips. "I could actually be dating you."

"Hey!" I cried, socking him in the shoulder. James laughed and threw me a look.

"That's another thing," he said. "I never expected you to be so bloody violent."

"And I never expected you to make me so violent," I shot back, and then altered my comment. "Wait, actually, you know what? I did. You were always making me want to pull my hair out!"

James didn't seem to find this the least bit offending and just began to laugh again, much to my displeasure. I threw him another bitter look.

"You really are incorrigible," I told him again with a sigh, when all he continued to do was laugh at my dirty faces.

"But you obviously still have some hidden desire to date me anyway, don't you, Infallible Lily Evans?"

I shook my head and shot a glare his way. "You're an arse."

James grinned. "You sure do say that often. A term of endearment, perhaps?"

"Do you want me to hit you again?"

Just as James was putting up his hands in front of his body as a way of protecting himself, we reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. I hadn't even really been aware of where we were heading until we had actually gotten there. It was slightly disconcerting, I have to say.

"Well, this is where I leave you," James told me, motioning towards the Tower. I stared him curiously.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Aren't you coming in? It's rather late, actually."

James shook his head. "I've got to go find Sirius. I, er, sort of hit him with a Quaffle this morning."

"I heard."

"Yeah, well, I suppose I should apologise then, shouldn't I? He's down in the kitchens, I think. I figure it's best I corner him when there's a lot of food present. Less of a chance he'll hex me."

I rolled my eyes. "You blokes and your food."

James grinned and shrugged helplessly. "So, I'll... see you around?" he asked, taking a few steps away from the portrait hole.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I suppose I'll just go...pretend to sleep or something."

"Pretend to sleep?" James questioned. "Why?"

"Emma got out of the Hospital Wing this afternoon," I started to explain. "Now she's upstairs and I—"

"Say no more," James interrupted, holding up his hands. "I get it. Another ever so special quality of the Infallible Lily Evans: when things get awkward, avoid and ignore."

I blushed. "That's not...oh, sod off, will you?"

James laughed, continuing to take a few more steps away. Before he could leave, though, I stopped him.

"James?" I called.

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to...well, I'm sorry. For everything. I didn't mean to drag you into all of this—well, I mean, I did, but I..." I sighed, stopping before the rambling began again. "You get what I'm saying."

"Yeah," James said again, nodding his head. "Don't worry about it, Lily. Like I said, things could be worse."

"You could actually be dating me," I reminded him with a smirk.

"Or I could be dead," he added with a grin.

I snorted. "I'm almost afraid to ask which one you'd prefer."

James laughed again, intelligently choosing not to respond to my last comment. A few moments later, he started slowly down the corridor again, and with a slight wave to me, smiled as he said, "'Night, Infallible Lily Evans."

I threw him a look as I called down the corridor, "I'm not infallible anymore, remember? I fall!"

James shook his head. "Nah," he said softly. "You'll always be infallible."

Then he disappeared around the corner.

As Late As You Can Get, Pretending to Sleep
Observant Lily: Day 17
Total Observations: 119

Infallible? Me? Come on. He had to be kidding. Only someone clearly off their rocker would put the likes of me up on a pedestal. As he said, I fall. I fall more than any normal person has the right to. And I'm not just saying that because of the supposed inferiority complex everyone in the world seems to think I have, but because it's the truth. I mean, smart? I'm failing Transfiguration. He's my tutor for god sakes! Nice? Um, hardly. Everyone loves me? Hello, is the reason we're in this situation right now not because of the shared hatred between Elisabeth Saunders and I? Beautiful? No. Just...no.

He's mad. He really is.

Infallible...me...

Psh.

Friday, October 3rd, 7th Year Girls' Dormitory
Observant Lily: Day 18
Total Observations: 120

From the Mad Mind of Lily Evans: My Dream from Last Night

Amos and I were in the library, fishing. There was a stream and everything, right there in between the restricted section and Madame Pince's desk. We sat on the tables, fishing rods out, gabbering away in what seemed to be rather fluent German. I asked Amos if he would shag me, and he said, no, that he was too sleepy to shag me just then. I began to cry. Amos continued fishing. Suddenly, he got a bite, except what came out wasn't a fish, it was James. I said hello to James as Amos went back to fishing. James said hello back. I told James that Amos wouldn't shag me. James said he'd do it, if I wanted. I told him that was very nice, but maybe later, as I had to finish my Ancient Runes assignment. James said he did too, so we went off to finish our assignments together, even though James doesn't take Ancient Runes. When we were done, James asked if I wanted him to shag me then. I told him no, that I was too hungry. Then we planted vegetables together. Amos joined us a few moments later. We sang 'Deck the Halls' as we dug through the soil.

Observation #120) If dreams are, as my Divination professor insists, an outlook into the day that lies ahead of us, I'm not really sure if I want to get up.