Chapter 11: So Brainstorm-baking is...?


Harry slowly plodded along next to his mother, their footsteps matching muffled thump for muffled thump. Lily didn't quite know what she wanted to talk to her son about, mostly just wanting to talk to him properly.

To her, he'd been nothing more than an infant the last time she'd seen him and now…now he was almost a man.

Lily didn't quite feel ready for that.

They walked into yet another dimly lit corridor, and Lily motioned for Harry to follow her through a door.

"You've been in Grimmauld Place before?" asked Harry, curious about the way Lily seemed quite at ease wandering around the dark, creepy house.

"Absolutely never." she said, flashing him a grin. "I'm just really good at pretending I know what I'm doing."

Harry, jarred by the honesty and cavalier tone, huffed a laugh almost by surprise. "Doesn't that just about sum up my life."

Lily threw him a curious look, before muttering, "Corn cob on a cobbled cove!"

Harry asked, "What?" and she pointed at the cobweb she'd walked into, her hair covered with the sticky threads. "And the worst thing is, Sirius uses Head & Shoulders. My hair doesn't do well with Head & Shoulders."

Harry looked bemused, wondering why on earth shampoo brands actually mattered, but thought that maybe this was a girl thing and pretended he understood.

They walked through another door, and Harry was quite certain they'd walked into a really old study. However, unlike the rest of the house, this study looked less infested with all manner of creepy-crawlies and rodents. The walls were the same damp velvety green, the sofas were the same antique black and faded silver brocade, the wooden furniture was as consistently rosewood as the rest of the house, the obligatory three cobweb-covered crystal chandeliers were sparkling sinisterly, and the display cases were covered with dust and jewels.

Lily took out her wand and muttered a charm that cleared the dust away from one of the sofas, plopping down on one and motioning for Harry to sit next to her.

"How did you know where this room was?" he asked, sitting down in such a way that his back didn't touch the rather suspicious-looking stains on the backrest.

Lily hummed a bit and then said, "This used to be Sirius' little brother's study." At his surprised look, she continued, "Well, there are quite a few studies in this house, but this was the one Sirius said that Regulus used most often. He showed us around a bit before bed."

Harry looked around more closely, and this time, via the dim lighting, he could see the books on one of the tables, and recognised some of them as ones that he had copies of as well. Quills and blank parchment were neatly arranged on the dusty table, and Harry felt a certain pang of sadness he couldn't quite explain as he saw a half-written letter just lying there, the ink pot having been left open and dried up over the years.

It was like a life snuffed out in the middle of saying a sentence.

"How old was he when he died?" he asked quietly, eyes not moving from the spidery handwriting on the aged parchment, which seemed to fade away the longer he stared at it.

"Regulus?" his mother asked, staring at her son and feeling so proud of him for feeling so deeply for someone he'd never known. "I think he was eighteen. He joined the Death Eaters when he was still at Hogwarts, but he didn't last very long. And now we know why."

Harry clenched his fists tightly. That could have been anyone in our year. Anyone. Parkinson, Nott, Malfoy, Bulstrode…anyone of them could have been our Regulus Black. Voldemort has no qualms about using children in this fight, and they're all being utterly stupid and pretending he isn't back!

Lily could see Harry's shoulders tense with emotion, but she couldn't see his green eyes flash a tell-tale crimson. If she had, she wouldn't have honestly known what to do about it.

"Hey," she said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "He died fighting for what was right, in the end. Feel proud that he found his way back home, even if no one knew about it until now. There's no use getting worked up over it; what we do is fight to stop something like that from happening ever again."

Harry nodded tightly and said, "No more kids like Regulus."

Lily looked at him sadly and said, "Isn't that what you want though? Joining the Order means being a kid like Regulus. Younger, in fact, because you're only fifteen."

"That's different." he said, and he knew it to be true, but he couldn't quite verbalise it and it was frustrating.

His mother hummed again, and then said, "I know what you mean."

It was the sincerity in her voice that got him to calm down, because it was now alright if he didn't have the words – she understood anyway, in the way only Ron and Hermione had before.

"Let's talk about something else though." she said, keen to get off this topic and onto greener pastures. "Tell me about what it was like growing up with Petunia."

Harrys mind drew a blank as he registered the question. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, and then swallowed because his mouth had dried up like a puddle in the Namib Desert.

Lily noticed her son's reaction to the question and promptly began wondering what she'd said wrong. "Harry?"

He jolted a bit, and then fixed a smile on his face. "What's there to tell, really? It was like growing up anywhere else. I went to primary school, then got my Hogwarts letter, and then I went to Hogwarts."

Lily frowned and then chuckled at her own stupidity. "You know Harry, I grew up with Petunia. It can't have been easy for you to grow up with her. I mean, I was just her sister, but she was your guardian wasn't she?"

Harry blinked at the self-deprecating tone, and then wondered just how he'd forgotten that his mother knew Aunt Petunia, knew her like no one else in the world did, because of course they lived together.

Although Harry couldn't really imagine someone as bright and beautiful and wonderful as his mother living under the same roof as horse-faced Aunt Petunia.

"I can't imagine a younger Aunt Petunia, to be honest." he said.

She smiled at him and said, "She wasn't always like she is now you know. Or well, I suppose, she wasn't always like she was fourteen years ago, although from the looks of it, I don't think she's changed much…"

"Probably not." Harry allowed, a small smile forming on his mouth, unbeckoned.

She let out a few chuckles before saying, "Well, believe it or not, she was a brilliant elder sister. She wasn't like the other girls in my neighbourhood, who thought I was a baby and wouldn't play with me. No, she used to play with me even though she was older and could easily have fit in with the other girls." She took a breath. "I don't think I ever thanked her for that."

Harry, understandably stunned, asked, "What happened? I genuinely can't imagine Aunt Petunia being nice!"

"Magic happened." said Lily, her face showing that she'd long since accepted this fact and moved on. "When I first started manifesting magic, she told me to hide it, and then called me a freak. Our relationship hasn't been very good ever since, though I've tried."

Harry gaped. Without meaning to, he said, "She called you a freak too?" Then, he backtracked, "I mean, um, you were her sister. Hagrid once said that she was jealous of you, but if you were sisters, then…"

Lily had noticed Harry's slip up, and the shrivelled up hope at rekindling the bond with her elder sister flickered out of existence.

"Jealousy is a very corrosive thing Harry, and it makes the best of us turn into incorrigible monsters. It takes a truly brave soul to be able to accept their shortcomings and move past it.* Petunia was never that brave."

Harry mulled over this and then said, "Wait, you've tried to make up with her?"

Lily nodded, then got a mischievous grin on her face.

"James asked me to get married to him when we were seventeen, and I thought we were too young, so I told him that he needed my sister's approval first."

Harry looked worried for his father, even though it was only a story. He'd never heard this before, and he was really excited to. "He agreed?"

Lily scoffed. "Of course he agreed. Your father, Harry, is an idiot."

Harry laughed, and Lily smiled. "So he set up a luncheon with Petunia and her then-fiancé, Vernon. Don't ask me how he convinced Petunia, because I'd been trying for months. It's just one of those things that make me want to bash your father's brains out."

Harry was really getting into this story, moving closer to Lily, who looked to be in a world of her own, seeing the story she was describing play out in her mind's eye.

"We came to the muggle café all dressed up, James having absolutely no idea what the meaning of colour coordination was, and they were already there. Petunia was wearing that weird salmon dress that she thinks flatters her figure (and James assures me that we should continue letting her think it does, for everyone's collective happiness) and Vernon looked about ready to pop with the number of 'fashionable' layers he was wearing in the middle of July. Already, I could tell it was going to go well."

Lily's dry tone made Harry bite his lips to stop him from erupting, because Merlin, he could just picture it now!

"James immediately introduced himself and then continued standing, well after everyone had sat down. I remember Vernon asking him what he was doing, and James saying that it was 'proper' to let the highest ranking one sit first, and he was just politely waiting for everyone else to realise their 'mistake'. That didn't go down well with the potential in-laws. I don't think I've ever seen anyone go quite as purple as Vernon did, and Petunia's face was so pinched I'm surprised her face ever managed to smooth out!"

Harry stopped bothering to hide his laughter. "What kind of joke is that? Sounds like something Malfoy would say, if he had a decent bone in his body."

Lily smiled wryly. "It wasn't a joke Harry. James genuinely meant it. In hindsight it was funny, but at the time, it was mortifying."

Harry realised that maybe his dad wasn't a blood traitor. Which made him question what on earth being a blood traitor entailed, because if his dad believed in the pureblood etiquette thing, and he'd still married a muggleborn

I'll have to ask Ron when he wakes up. he thought, before saying, "So what happened then?"

"Well," Lily continued, "we finally got around to talking, and Petunia and I discussed wedding dresses in a semi-civilised fashion, but then Vernon went purple again and called James a pompous oaf, which, you know, he was, but I was his girlfriend, so I couldn't really let that slide. So I told Vernon to apologise, in the nicest way mind you, and James just said, well, he said something about broomsticks and Petunia went livid, and they both stormed out of the café without waiting for their orders."

"Wait," said Harry, shocked that Uncle Vernon would ever leave any establishment without food. "They left before they had something to eat? Dad must have made them really mad."

Lily nodded. "Yeah, and all James could say at the end of it all was 'Merlin Lily, are all muggles that high strung or is it just your family?' and I was so mad at him, I took the glass of iced tea the waiter had brought us and dumped it over his head. And he just blinked at me and said, 'Story of my life when you're involved.'"

Harry tried, he really did try, but he couldn't not laugh at the look of disgust on his mother's face. Lily's lips twitched upwards and she said, "But yeah, we've both tried to mend burnt bridges, but Petunia stopped responding to us after a while. I think the last thing I sent to her was a heartfelt rendition of how cute you were and how much I wished our mum could have lived to see you, and she sent us a vase for Christmas, no card attached. It was the closest thing to comforting she'd done since I was seven."

Lily looked rather wistful and sad, and Harry didn't know what to do. So he asked, mindful of the potential landmine he was stepping on but disregarding it in favour of indulging his curiosity, "Your mum? My grandmother?"

Lily looked at her boy, his face eager and eyes sparkling with wonder and curiosity, and she fell in love with her baby all over again. "Yeah, Poppy Evans, and my dad, Harry. You were named after him."

Harry felt a flush of happiness at this, for being linked to a family member he didn't even know. "What were they like?"

Lily bit her lip in thought, and if Hermione had seen it, she would have instantly likened it to Harry's own thoughtful gesture. "Well, mum was a bit…not speaking ill of the dead or anything, but she was a bit ditzy. She married really young, and she dropped out of school as well, to marry dad, but she never regretted it. She treated Petunia's hatred of me as though it was a phase, and she told me to bring home more boys, because she was afraid I'd turn out to be a lesbian or something."

Harry choked on his own spit. "What?"

Lily laughed. "Yeah, she was a character alright. But she was also the only one in the family who took one look at James and immediately liked him. Not even I did. She'd been knitting your baby-wear ever since my sixth year when James sent her a letter asking for permission to court me. I thought it was the daftest thing ever, but apparently Sirius had 'reminded him' that maybe the reason I was spurning his advances was because he hadn't done it 'properly' or some rubbish. They'd been in touch ever since, and the amount I screeched at her for ever bringing that boy up...if you didn't already know Harry, your father and I didn't have the best start to our relationship, owing to the fact that he was an idiot."

Lily shook her head in fond exasperation and Harry grinned. He couldn't have described what it felt like to do this after years of yearning and yearning, hoping one day he'd see them again and they'd sit just like this and talk about trivial memories so that he could know them, even if he'd tried.

But that was okay because he didn't need to. Lily hugged him lightly and said, "But daddy was another deal entirely. I sometimes half thought he was magical himself, what with how he instinctively knew what was and what wasn't magical, and the fact that he was just plain barmy. He used to read my textbooks to better help me with my homework. He was pretty old when he got married. Mum was his second wife, you see. The first one had run away with some other guy and taken all his hard-earned savings, so mum marrying him was really a stroke of sheer 'what the heck?'. I think he always liked me more than Petunia, which was another reason that Petunia probably hated me. Dad just said she was far too screechy and girly for him, and sometimes I took insult to that."

Harry frowned. "That's not very nice, even if it was true. She was his daughter."

Lily nodded. "Yeah, but dad was really blunt, and sometimes it was a bad thing, but most of the time, you could rely on him to never lie to you. He was honest, and intelligent too. He wasn't from a very well-off family, so he couldn't have a proper education really, but he'd tried his best with what he'd had. He was a mechanic, and Petunia was ever so ashamed of him. But to me, he worked hard, and that was all that mattered."

Lily took a deep breath, and she had a few tears in her eyes that she wiped away softly. "They would have loved you. Really they would have, and not just because you're their grandson either."

Harry felt that this was probably the greatest compliment he'd ever been given.

"How did they die?" he asked quietly.

Lily paused for a moment, looking for the right words. "Mum had gone to Marseille on a trip with some of her friends, and some men had walked into the bar they were at and shot twenty one people. Mum was one of the fatalities. I don't think they've caught whoever did it either, but it was a purely muggle incident, Sirius checked.** When dad heard, well, he'd already had a pretty weak heart and he'd had a stroke only the year before (his drinking probably didn't help, really), and when he heard, he was hospitalised and died a few weeks after."

Frowning, Harry stopped himself from feeling disappointed and strangely empty. I didn't even know them. What am I getting sad about?

But he couldn't help it, because his mum was sad about it, and it hurt her, and they were his grandparents and he wished he'd known them. But that, he felt, was a bit selfish. I already got my parents, and that wasn't really supposed to happen anyway. Don't be ungrateful by asking for more.

He hugged him mother and said, "That must have been hard."

Lily laughed and looked at him with a watery smile. "Very, though I'll have you know, you're as bad as James when it comes to comforting someone."

Harry blushed. "But it's okay," she said softly, "You're both my emotionally stunted men."

And it might have been the blush, but he felt very warm at her words.


Lily and Harry talked a bit more before Harry let out a yawn and tried to stifle it unsuccessfully.

"Time for bed, I think." said Lily, getting up from the sofa and reading one of the old magical clocks on the wall. "Merlin!" she exclaimed. "It's six in the morning!"

Harry looked put out. "Is there any point going to bed? We all have to be up by eight anyway."

Lily bit her lip and said, "Oh fine, I suppose we should get changed and head to the kitchen. Maybe we can start making breakfast as well."

Harry nodded and then blurted, probably because he was tired, "Isn't that Mrs Weasley's job?"

Lily gave him a disapproving gaze. "It's no one's job Harry. We're all living together, so we all have to help out, and that includes the cooking as well as the cleaning. Honestly, her job…"

Harry, properly chastised, exited the room and promised to meet her in the kitchen after he'd finished changing.

Lily made her way back to Sirius' room, a smile on her tired face and a bounce in her step that hadn't been there before.

I spent three hours talking to my son. My son. Holy Helga, he is perfect!

He was kind, polite, sassy and a genuine delight to talk to. He was curious and disarmingly charming without meaning to be, and he was adorable and sweet—

My baby has grown up so much…and Lily couldn't help but be sad that she'd missed it all. So many years of her baby growing up, and she'd missed every single second that had turned him into the masterpiece he was now.

But she shook away those sad thoughts and instead focussed on how much time she had with him now, because she was supposed to be dead, really, and this was a miracle that she would cherish wholeheartedly. Because her baby wasn't a man yet, and she had time to see that happen now.

She slowly tiptoed back into Sirius' room and noticed that, while Remus had once again stolen all of James' sheets from the other corner of the room and Sirius had starfished onto her side of the bed as well, her husband was nowhere in sight.

Maybe he noticed I wasn't there and went to look for me? she thought, deciding to head down to the kitchen, because that's where everyone would be eventually.

She rooted through Sirius' old cupboard and took out some ancient-looking star-spangled plum robes that could pass for feminine if one squinted. That'll do.

She quickly changed into them, brushed her teeth with one of the toothbrushes James had transfigured yesterday, combed her hair with Sirius' comb (no one took care of their hair better than teenage Sirius. Not even middle-aged Sirius.) and put her hair in a ponytail, using a piece of thread to tie it up.

Feeling much more awake after washing her face, she climbed down the stairs and went into the kitchen, Harry having beaten her to it.

"Oh, mum, it looks like we're not the only ones that had a sleepless night." he said, an amused lilt to his voice.

Throwing him a questioning look, she peered into the kitchen and saw…

"James, exactly how many more scones are you going to bake?" she asked exasperatedly.

Plate after plate piled high with scones and cookies sat on nearly every surface of Grimmauld Place's spacious kitchen, her husband preparing the batter for yet another batch of—she looked closer—chocolate chip cookies, reading an old book that looked to be a few breaths away from falling apart.

Harry grinned in amusement as his father didn't even register his mother's presence, kneading the dough and muttering to himself.

"Dad!" he half-yelled.

It had the desired effect of catching James' attention, and for a moment, he blinked at the two of them, his eyes uncomprehending and drifting back from whatever plane they had been at previously.

"Exactly how out of it are you love?" asked Lily, stepping into the heavenly buttery smelling kitchen. She picked up a scone on the way to her husband and bit into it. "And how many more of these are you going to make?"

Harry tentatively stepped into the kitchen as well and tried a cookie, which basically melted in his mouth.

James seemed to have finally regained his senses and said rapidly, "I'm brainstorm-baking. Also, I might be slightly hysterical. Also, good morning! Sleep well? What time is it?"

Lily peered at the book he was reading and her head started spinning because of the tiny letters. "How can you read that? It's six in the morning and yeah, you look kind of frenetic."

Harry looked at the book as well, and tried to read some of it but realised that it was all in French. "You know French?"

James nodded twitchily. "Yeah, my mother was French. Or was it my dad? Or maybe it was my cousin? Or maybe I learned it for fun? Or…I don't know anymore, but I know French-kissing. And French. Although I don't know how I know how to French-kiss…or how to kiss…did I ever practise that, or did I just know how? What were we talking about again?"

Harry looked completely weirded out and Lily sighed fondly. "You didn't sleep a wink last night, did you?"

James smiled at her, and if it was a bit too wide to be normal, well. Lily was used to it, what with how many sleepless nights they'd both had over the years. "No, I couldn't, and when I could, I was too into it to bring myself to leave, you know?"

"Too into what?" asked Harry.

James turned to him with a snap. "Why would Regulus, self-centred, arrogant, self-serving Regulus, give up his life for a locket? What's so special about that locket? Why would Voldemort want to hide it? Why would he use a house elf to test out the defences? Why wouldn't he keep it closer to his own person if it was that important to him?"

Harry gaped at his dad, and Lily put a hand on his shoulder. "Alright James, calm down. And I don't know. What are your theories?"

James took a deep breath and shook his head to stop his eyes from blinking asleep. "After a lot of thinking, I've narrowed it down to it being a powerful artefact, but not the locket itself, but something he's done to the locket. But what? It has to be dark, it has to be something he's afraid people will look at and recognise…so what? What is it that he's afraid we'll see and try to take away? Or is it just a specific someone he's trying to hide it from?"

"Dumbledore?" asked Harry.

James and Lily looked at him and James nodded. "Yes, that sounds about right. So what would Dumbledore know that has Voldie all in a tizzy?"

Lily shrugged. "We could just ask him."

James waved her off. "Yeah, of course we will, but I'd like to know now, without burdening him with yet another conundrum to solve. As it is, it took us three years to figure out that Voldemort's main aim was immortality and—" he cut himself off abruptly.

"What?" asked Harry, confused. Why had James stopped mid-sentence? Lily looked just as confused, and then James snapped the book shut.

"I'm not going to find anything in here, but I've narrowed down the search." he said, a beatific smile on his face. "Thank you!"

"You're…welcome?" Harry blinked at the sudden change in mood.

"Now if you'll excuse me…" said James, before his head slammed onto the counter.

"Dad!" Harry asked, shocked.

"It's alright Harry. James' mind just decided to let him go to sleep, now that he's made a breakthrough." said Lily, smiling down at her odd husband and brushing some strands of hair out of his face, taking off his glasses and putting them on the side.

"Want to help me set the table and put the extras back in the oven?" she asked.

Harry nodded and together, they cleared away the counters and the bowlfuls of batter, taking some of the cookies and scones out to the dining table and clearing away the dishes that James had used to cook. They brought out butter dishes, several kettles to make tea in when people started waking up, and glasses and jugs of milk and orange juice.


It was eight by the time they'd worked their way through several scones and cookies, and two glasses of milk each, talking and laughing all the way through. Footsteps could be heard walking down the stairs as one by one, the other residents of Grimmauld Place roused themselves from sleep.

Harry and Lily greeted Mr Weasley, Lily meeting him properly for the first time, and a strangely placid Mrs Weasley.

"Molly?" said Lily tentatively.

"Yes?" she replied, her tone brittle.

"I just wanted to apologise for the way I said what I did yesterday. It was uncalled for, especially as tempers were high and I've never been able to manage my temper all that well." said Lily.

Mrs Weasley's features softened, although Harry noticed that his mother hadn't apologised for what she'd said, just the way she'd said it.

"It's quite alright dear. You were just defending your friend, and it's an admirable quality, something Harry has inherited as well."

They smiled at each other, and Harry blushed in happy embarrassment.

"Who made these? They're really good!" said Mr Weasley, tasting one of the cookies.

"I'll get the rest of them out." said Lily with a smile. "James decided to bake because he couldn't sleep, and now he's out like a light in the kitchen. Would you like some tea, you two?"

Mrs Weasley opened and closed her mouth, feeling more than a little bit replaced, but managed to nod gratefully.

Mr Weasley cheerily offered to help as the twins and Remus made their way into the kitchen.

By the time Sirius had sat down and had his first cup of tea, Tonks had visited and Mrs Black had screamed herself hoarse, Mrs Weasley had yelled at the twins for dipping Ginny's hair into the milk (choosing not to notice Ginny throwing crumbs at Fred and George in retaliation, because lord, she did not have the patience to deal with three menaces rather than two this early in the morning), and Ron and Hermione had argued their way down the stairs.

"Honestly Ron, why can't you be a morning person!"

"I could be a morning person…if morning happened in the afternoon."

Hermione sputtered in indignation while Harry hid a wide grin behind his third glass of milk as everyone heard his two best friends' conversation.

"Those two," Ginny sniffed, "need to stop acting like a married couple if they want anyone to believe there's nothing going on between them."

"They can't help it Ginny," said Fred.

"I say we lock them in a cupboard and let them sort out that sexual tension." added George, picking out crumbs from his hair.

Harry decided that, actually, he was deeply happy, and that the grin on his face just wouldn't die down. "Nah, they wouldn't avail the opportunity. They'd be too busy blaming and then ignoring each other."

The twin deflated. "True."

Something crashed in the kitchen and Tonks' cries of, "I'm so sorry James, I didn't see you there!" and James' groans permeated the room, melding with the chatter of everyone else and Remus, ever the quiet one, smiled.

Yes, this was definitely home.


Yeah...sorry for the long wait, but I hope the Lily-Harry bonding makes up for it! It's just that I've had a severe case of writer's block for the Harry Potter fandom, and I've been trying to get what's in my head down for such a long time! So, what did you guys think?

* It takes a truly brave soul to be able to accept their shortcomings and move past it. You may or may not agree with me, but we can all agree that Ron has ample reason to be jealous of Harry. Harry is popular, accepted (well, until fifth year anyway), smart(er than Ron), much more level headed (and by extension, cooler in comparison), loved (even without trying, he has a great relationship with the headmaster, the gamekeeper and his twin brothers + the Quidditch team, something Ron can only ever aspire to) and talented (at Quidditch and many other things. And Ron really loves Quidditch, doesn't he?)

And yet Ron is still Harry's best friend. Doesn't that say a lot about him?

Because if I had to live with someone most people thought was untouchable, or someone that everyone put on a pedestal, for my own sanity and to not feel like a bad person, I would have gone from best friend to really close acquaintance. Ron doesn't do that. He overcomes that self-depreciation and jealousy, for the most part. And so, in my opinion, even if he's immature and certainly not the best character, he is very brave, and I think a lot of people overlook that kind of bravery. Steadfast friendship with Hermione aside, Harry and Ron's friendship is my favourite, because they had to overcome things to stay friends, whereas with Hermione, she doesn't have that inferiority complex, largely because she's more mature and intelligent than both boys.

I love the dynamics of the Golden Trio, something so many fanfictions overlook, and it really annoys me. Which is the main reason I decided that no bashing was going to be done. Every character has redeeming qualities, whether I think they were stupid or not. To treat them as idiots would be an insult to the Harry Potter Franchise, in my opinion.

Okay, rant over.

**The Marseilles attack actually happened, in real life. Hurray for using actual events for plot progression!

Please let me know what you thought about Lily and Harry's conversation, because I think I messed up on it a little. So many people were looking forward to it, and I genuinely believe I haven't done it justice...oh, and James' oddness is, well, the way he was speaking and the way his mind was running is how my mind does (and how I've observed other people act) when they haven't had any sleep, so...yeah.

Review please?