A/N: Warning for some mature content in the second half of the chapter.
October 9, 1977
In recent memory, there had been no greater threat posed to the stability of wizarding Great Britain than that presented by Voldemort and his supporters. They weren't at war per se, but anyone who read the news could tell you that the situation was slowly escalating. Every day there was a new opinion piece in the Prophet about how the Ministry should concede to Voldemort's demands and restrict the rights of muggleborns or rather that the Ministry should be taking stronger action against those who even spoke of blood supremacy, limiting freedoms of speech in this time of conflict.
With the situation so dour, none of the professors were particularly surprised by the mood that had befallen the Gryffindor seventh years that Monday morning. After all, they were the students who would soon be graduating and faced with the harsh realities of a world at war. It made sense that their spirts would be low, the mood grim, and as Professor Abel had fondly put it, "These things always hit the Gryffindors most harshly. The justice loving fools."
The professors' assumption, however, that the Gryffindor seventh years had fallen into a collective strop over the impending war was entirely wrong.
No, thoughts of genocide and discrimination were far from their minds. Instead, they were entirely focused on their own personal dramas and conflicts. Their professors had really underestimated the myopia of a group of teenagers. It was truly unparalleled.
In their defense, none of the Gryffindor seventh years bothered to read the op-eds in the Daily Prophet or follow the news of grisly deaths that always graced the front page. They, along with the rest of the school, were entirely too distracted by the release of the Monday edition of the Hogwarts Daily Mail to worry about that trifle called "the real world." Hogwarts was plenty real thanks and provided much better gossip.
It appeared that only one Gryffindor seventh year was immune to the misery that had overcome his classmates. One James Potter was having a fine morning. In fact, he would consider his mood practically jubilant considering it was a Monday, and he was not going to let the sour pusses of his friends drag him down a lick.
There were many reasons to which he could ascribe his good mood. Principally among them was that he had just had a fantastic weekend. The same weekend that had emotionally drained his peers had left him feeling fresh and excited.
Not a dull moment. That was how James judged the quality of his days: how many dull moments had he needed to wade through in his pursuit of fun? Not a one had encroached upon his perfect weekend.
Monday was shaping up to be every bit as wonderful – or as good as any day with classes could be. Breakfast was nearing at a close, but James' head was still studiously bent over his copy of the Hogwarts Daily Mail. He was having trouble raising his head off the table from the force of his laughter.
There was an exceptionally glowing article about the auction on the front page that had left him feeling pretty smug, but the true crowning joy of the edition was the feature piece on Sirius. Good Godric did he love Marlene McKinnon and her weird little brain.
"Tell me, Padfoot," James said, gasping a bit for breath as he summoned the words over his laughter. "When you saw the mother goose flying south with her children, did your eyes really 'shimmer with unshed tears?'"
The last bit came out a bit choked as James was overcome once more with a fit of laughter that he had to smother against his sleeve.
Entirely unimpressed, Sirius growled, "I will end you."
He had uttered these same words at least seven times already that breakfast.
"Very intimidating coming from a man who 'cradled the baby owl to him as if he were its own mother, stroking its feathers with the gentlest of caresses.' Tell me, what other animals have you been softly caressing?" James snickered.
Marlene's feature on Sirius was a work of art, a masterpiece that James had every intention of framing and hanging on his bedside wall for years to come. Her lunch date with Sirius had evidently been spent in the owlery, where Sirius had shown the soft, vulnerable side that Marlene had been digging for, cooing over baby owls and waxing poetic about the landscape visible through the window.
It wasn't a secret that Sirius was a nature-lover and a slave to animals. Growing up constrained within the Black household had left him with a deep appreciation for anything that lived freely and an admiration for the simplistic beauty of nature. He did not, however, advertise this fact even to his friends. Maybe they would catch Sirius gazing a moment too long at a sunset or contemplatively rubbing the bark of a tree, but the kind of overt displays that Marlene depicted in her article were unheard of. James could not have made Sirius sound like a greater ponce if he tried, and boy did he love to try.
Perhaps James' favorite aspect of the article was that it purposefully contrasted all of Sirius's soulful animal-petting with the filth he had been spewing to Marlene in their interview earlier in the week. The result was to paint all of Sirius's lewd womanizing as a mask to disguise the soft, soft putty of his heart.
Sirius was, understandably, furious.
In the past, it had come in handy for Sirius to play just this card whether it was to sway a professor or romance a girl. It wasn't, however, the impression that he wanted to give the entire student population. Most certainly not by accident.
When Sirius confiscated James' copy of the paper, James made only a half-hearted showing of trying to snatch it back and followed him to class. (Sirius didn't know that James had nicked an extra paper off the Hufflepuff table that was hidden in his robes).
It had not escaped James' notice that he appeared to be the only Gryffindor in good spirits that morning. His fits of hilarity had been all the more obnoxious as everyone else had sat miserably, poking at their porridge.
It was a bit strange for James, who was unaccustomed to all of his mates deciding to be miserable at the same time. The only one who was somewhat agreeable at the moment was Peter, but he was malleable, victim to the moods of others and his laughter at James' jokes rang false. Sirius was grumpy because Mary had punched him last night. Remus was grumpy because he was convinced that James hadn't forgiven him for his lack of faith on Saturday. The girls were grumpy because…well, he supposed they didn't really require a reason. They were prone to regular strops as it was.
As they settled into their seats in Defense, James turned around to face Remus who sat behind him so that he could flick him in the ear. Such a move would normally earn him a scowl or an eye roll at his immaturity, but considering Remus was currently wallowing in unnecessary guilt, his mate just gave him a half-hearted smile in return.
"We're going to have to change your nickname to Moody if you keep this up," James told him.
Remus blinked dazedly back, "What?"
"One week a month. You get one week a month to act like you're allergic to fun and that's it. Last I checked, we've got another week before your allotted pouting time, so you better knock it off now," James said.
"I'm sorry, James," Remus said miserably.
James wanted to slam his head against the table. "I don't want you to be sorry! I want you to –"
He was interrupted by Professor Ames starting the class and forced to turn around in his seat. As difficult as his mates were making it, he refused to let them ruin his day. He had a plan. He was going to pay attention in class, wow everyone with what a good, little boy he could be, and then he was going to shove it in Lily Evans' pretty face.
Less than fifteen minutes into class, James was reminded of just why he had never been the picture-perfect student. Merlin, was he bored. His foot tapped incessantly against the side of his chair, the physical manifestation, of his feelings as he struggled to make himself listen as Ames droned on about the connection between one's emotional wholeness and the force of one's magic.
It's not that he hated the subject necessarily. His father would roll his eyes and make a comment about how new-age magical theory was largely untested if he could hear Ames now, but James thought there was probably some validity to her point. Who really knew where magic came from in the first place? There were dozens of books that speculated on where the differential in the force of two wizards' magic originated from, not that James had ever bothered to read one, but it was all theory. That power could come from your internal balance or whatever made just as much sense as any other explanation, and it was less politically charged than some that attributed it to bloodlines.
In James' opinion, which he thought was a cut above the average, there was no need to fill an entire class period with the subject. He got it. A sound mind led to sound magic.
Pay attention. Pay attention.
It would be easier if there weren't so many interesting things to think about. Take for example, Sirius. What exactly was going on with Sirius?
He knew that his friend was angry that Mary had clocked him, which seemed rather out of character. James personally thought it was hilarious that Mary had tried to take Sirius in a physical fight. His already positive estimation of the witch had soared even higher after Peter had recounted the event to him, nervously whispering the story so that Sirius wouldn't overhear from where he was sulking. There really wasn't any reason to be so pissy over the entire thing.
Maybe the combination of the punch with the article? Still nothing to strop over.
James was not known for his sympathy, and he had none to give now.
Figuring one little note wasn't going to ruin his attempts at being swotty – after all, he'd seen Lily pass notes in class before – he decided to risk a quick jab at Sirius.
If you're upset because you're scared, I promise that I'll fight off any big, scary girls that come looking for you.
Sirius shot him a look of disgust and went back to his brooding. James didn't mind Sirius's lack of reaction. He was plenty entertained enough for the both of them.
Eventually, Professor Ames was kind enough to end the lecture portion of class and pair them up to practice their shield charms. James was becoming very sick of bloody shield charms. He was more a fan of the spells that blew things up.
"It's important that you leave your comfort zones and regularly. Challenge yourselves. You can't let fear motivate you. If you do, you'll never achieve balance between your mind, body, and magic," Professor Ames instructed.
In other, less pretentious words, Ames was assigning partners.
James would have been content with just about any pairing as they had Defense with Ravenclaw, but he was delighted when Ames put him with Mary. He strolled over to where she was morosely sitting, dropping his books on her desk with a solid thunk that made her jump.
"Alright, Mary, light of my life?" he greeted.
She looked at him suspiciously, "You're very…cheerful this morning."
"There's no reason not to be in good spirits, my shining star. The sun is out. The birds are singing. It's a good day," James said.
If she had been skeptical before, she looked downright alarmed now.
"Err…do you want to start first, and I'll throw some simple hexes at you?" she asked.
"As long as you're not throwing punches," James agreed cheekily.
Mary flushed pink. He didn't think he'd ever seen her blush before. She was usually far more difficult to rile up. He hoped she wasn't going soft in her old age.
For the next ten minutes, he managed to keep any teasing remarks to himself. He produced a pretty fair shield charm already, but the purpose of today's lesson was to practice expanding the area it covered and that required his full concentration. For once he wasn't just trying to top his classmates, but his own personal best.
By the time his turn had finished, he had succeeded in extending his shield's reach by two centimeters without losing any of the potency of the charm and a whole four centimeters if he allowed the charm to weaken. Ames gave him a hearty clap on the back and an O for the class in return for his efforts.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spied that Remus had managed to cast his charm wide enough to cover both him and Marco Rivera. He was really ace at these things, considering no one else in the class could expand theirs to so much as cover their entire person yet, let alone protect a friend. Under Ames' delightedly warped grading scale, however, Remus was only given a 'T' because his charm had been enormous to start with and he had only succeeded in expanding it a half centimeter. Shockingly, Remus's mood was not improved by his failed grade.
"Can I ask you a question?" Mary said nervously, gaining James' attention. "Why aren't you cross with me?"
James raised an eyebrow. "Did you do something I should be angry about?"
Shrugging, Mary said, "I assaulted one of your mates. That's the kind of thing some people would be mad about, yeah."
"Mary, I say this from the bottom of my heart. The only thing I'm cross with you about is that you punched Sirius when I wasn't in the room to see it. You know what…I honestly am mad about that. I might never forgive you," James said.
"You don't think I'm a nutter or a terrible person?" Mary asked, unconvinced.
James considered this for a second. "You might be a bit of a nutter, but I happen to like that about you. It's a vast improvement over the emotionless block thing you sometimes do."
When Mary looked somewhat affronted at this, James hurried to continue, "And I definitely don't think you're a terrible person. Sirius needs to get punched in the face every once and a while. It's good for him. Keeps him humble."
"I think he'd disagree with you," Mary said, nodding her head towards where Sirius was firing off hexes at his partner with far more force than was strictly required.
"Don't worry. I know what's best for him," James said conspiratorially.
That almost earned him a smile before Mary was demanding that they return to work. You'd think he was the one that got them off topic in the first place with the way she barked the order at him.
By James' standards, Mary wasn't the ideal partner for practicing shield charms. Half the fun was always when someone's shield charm would weaken for just a second and James could fire something ridiculous through the breach. Then, he'd get to have a laugh as his partner performed a jig or fell to the ground with a fit of the giggles. Mary, unfortunately, never flagged, and James just sent boring stinging hexes her way, knowing that they would never hit her.
Her shield was incredibly effective, maybe not as large as Remus's, but still one of the best produced in the class. She tried to hide it, but James could see the hints of smugness emerging on her face.
It took Professor Ames all of twenty seconds to wipe that away completely.
"Miss MacDonald, I don't think you're even trying," Professor Ames sighed as if it pained her to say. She seemed like the type to put a lot of personal stock into her students' success, so she probably wasn't even exaggerating it. "I know that you can do better. I'm going to have to give you another 'T' for today's class."
Her third 'T' in as many classes, Mary had apparently had enough because she, literally, did not take this sitting down. Frustrated, she pushed over her chair. It clattered loudly to the floor, drawing everyone's attention.
"How's this for emotional honesty?" she demanded.
Sweeping her books up, she stormed out of the classroom before anyone had a chance to react.
"Was it something I said?" Professor Ames asked uncertainly, clearly taken by surprise that her unorthodox teaching methods could have pushed a student so over the edge.
If James didn't track the full moon for other purposes, he would have assumed that the full moon was tonight with how wonky everyone was acting. Mary MacDonald displaying intense emotion in public! Mary MacDonald shouting at a teacher and ditching class! This was positively unheard of.
For a moment, it looked as if no one was going to chase after her, but then Marlene stumbled up to the front of the room. Professor Ames gave her permission to follow after Mary and confirm that she was alright, and Marlene was out the door in a blink of an eye.
He was really going to have to rethink whether or not Mary might actually be a nutter. Punching Sirius was perfectly reasonable, caring that you got a poor grade in Defense was the sign of a lunatic. Their grades didn't even count towards anything. It was NEWT year! As long as she passed her NEWT exam, she were set.
He felt utterly betrayed by her abandonment. Where was the loyalty? James joined Remus and Rivera for the rest of the period. It went terribly, and it was all Mary's fault.
James' mere presence was evidently enough to send Remus off-balance and his shield charm sputtered to a third of its former glory. Every time James sent a hex his friend's way, Remus flinched as if he expected James was going to start throwing Crucios any second. By the end of the period, James found himself rather brassed off with his mate and his daffy behavior. Honestly, Remus's apprehension was not flattering.
Rather than walk to Potions alongside the rest of the Marauders, which would have been the most sensible thing to do, Remus made a weak excuse about having left his gloves in Gryffindor Tower and scurried off without them. This left Sirius and James to make the walk alone.
James' previous good spirits had been thoroughly doused by this point, and Sirius's mood didn't look to have improved over the course of the class.
"What does he want me to do to convince him I'm not angry?" James said exasperatedly as he watched Remus's retreating form.
Sirius emerged from his brooding long enough to ask, "Are you sure you're not?"
Had he not already explained this a dozen times over?
"Yes."
"You sure? Because I know you, mate, and this isn't the type of thing you'd usually let go of so easily," Sirius said.
"Of course I'm not thrilled with Remus right now. He's had better moments, but I don't want to fight and I don't want him skulking about all miserable," James said.
Sirius's confidence that James was secretly angry made James wonder if perhaps Sirius might have a point. Whenever he really stopped to think about Remus's lack of faith in him, his fists would unintentionally clench. After everything they'd been through together, he should be well past the point of having to earn Remus's trust. The thought made him want to hit something.
Okay, so maybe he wasn't angry. He was closer to furious.
Still, he wasn't lying when he said that he didn't want to fight about it. He didn't make it a habit of lying to his friends. There was no fun, no point to giving into his anger. He wanted to tell jokes and laugh and play Quidditch, not waste his time moaning about how he had been wronged.
He most certainly did not want to wonder whether there was a reason that Remus had doubted him. Remus was one of the most observant, insightful people James had ever met. James refused to speculate as to whether Remus saw something dark and terrible in him, something unworthy of trust.
"Skulking around miserable is kind of his thing. You know our Moony. He feels guilty for all kinds of shite he didn't even do. He's going to combust now that he actually cocked up for real," Sirius said.
James grumbled in response. Great, now he got to feel guilty for making Remus feel guilty when there was already so much guilt going around.
Peter always met them at the stairwell that led to the dungeons for Potions and had quietly joined them, listening to their conversation. There were only two stairwells that led to the Dungeons and Peeves had evidently wreaked his usual havoc, putting the stairwell on the eastern side of the castle out of commission. As a result, dozens of students were trying to cram onto the staircase, jostling each other in their hurry to get to class.
"Bloody, Peeves. Can we find some way to get back at him soon, yeah?" James groaned, as a second year's bony elbow slammed into his gut.
His mates ignored him, too busy caught up in their own struggle to escape the stairwell unscathed and maybe also reasonably reluctant to agree. Their every attempt to best the poltergeist in the past had failed magnificently, and Peeves could be a dedicated and creative enemy. It was best to avoid antagonizing him.
"If you want Remus to stop feeling guilty, you have to properly punish him," Peter spoke up when they had finally escaped the claustrophobic stairwell situation.
"He's got to what?" Sirius asked.
"Moony needs absolution. He's going to feel like he deserves to suffer until you punish him, and if you won't do it, he'll punish himself instead," Peter explained.
James shared a skeptical look with Sirius.
"That's just stupid," James said. "Are you sure about this?"
Peter raised his eyebrow pointedly. When it came to the other Marauders, he was never wrong. He would probably have more success cheering Remus up than his own mum.
"It may be stupid, but it is Moony."
James sighed. "So, I just need to act like an arse for a few days and eventually everything'll turn back to normal."
"That or you could kick the shite out of him," Sirius suggested. "It would be faster."
"I can't hit Remus!"
Merlin knew his friend's body was already broken enough as things were. Adding onto that would make him feel like a scumbag.
"Oy! You can hit me and not him?" Sirius demanded.
"Don't be sad, Padfoot. I promise from now on I'll just get Mary to do it for me," James laughed.
Sirius's lips twisted into a scowl. "I thought you were finally off that."
"Please. I'm not going to stop bringing this up until I'm dead. It's like you hardly know me," James said, clapping a comradely hand on his back before entering the classroom.
Operation Asshole commences now, James thought grimly.
Rather than take his normal seat next to Sirius, James sat down next to a jumpy Remus. He couldn't exactly torment his friend from a distance now could he? He knew that Slughorn would pretend not to have noticed their little game of musical chairs, opting instead to ignore their misbehavior unless it spiraled out of control.
"I need to get an 'O' today if I want to beat Evans. So just keep your mouth shut and don't cock anything up," James ordered tersely.
Remus looked upset as he nodded his assent.
They were tasked with brewing a potion that decreased the drinker's body density. When Slughorn asked the class to answer the possible uses of the potion, James' hand had risen at top-speed, beating a disgruntled Snape. His answer of underwater diving had earned him a point for Gryffindor. For once, he had actually done the reading.
He didn't glance over to check Lily's reaction. He had some dignity, but he could only imagine she must have been suitably impressed.
James had to admit that bullying Remus for a period was nice. Not because he enjoyed seeing his friend suffer, but because he was able to assign all the miserable, grunt work to Remus and save the actual brewing for himself. Remus carefully dewinged lacewing flies and ground up a centaur's hoof, while James merely had to monitor the temperature of the cauldron and stir as required.
Realizing that they needed more salamander skin, James headed back to the supplies cupboard. His trip coincided nicely with Lily's own visit to the storeroom, and he found himself alone with her for the first time since their picnic.
Never one to pass up an opportunity, he leaned in close to her, where she was searching a shelf, enjoying the way she jumped when she sensed his presence crowding behind her.
"Want to hear a joke? I've got a pretty good one about a slice of pizza that walked into a bar," he breathed into her ear.
She huffed and spun around to face him, forcing his body back a respectable difference in doing so. Hands planted on her hips, it was clear she was trying to strike a pose of derision. Her attempt would have been a lot more convincing if he hadn't seen her bent over with laughter from a schoolyard joke just the day before.
"Fine. Go on then," she instructed.
"You know what? Never mind," James shook his head. "I don't want to tell you."
Lily looked outraged. "You can't just take it back! You promised me a joke a day. Now, deliver, Potter."
"Sorry, I changed my mind."
"I swear to God, Potter. If you don't tell me your stupid joke right now –"
"Listen, I was going to tell you, but then I realized the joke was too cheesy."
He waited a moment to let it sink in fully. The key to the pizza-is-too-cheesy joke was the delivery. He grinned widely as he watched her face screw up in annoyance as she got it.
"Of all the terrible jokes in the world that you could have told to mark our new tradition, you chose to lead with 'it's too cheesy?' Seriously?" Lily said.
"I know you're laughing on the inside, Evans."
This internal laughter did not translate into an actual laugh, but she also didn't stomp on his foot, which was what Alice had done when he told the same joke during second year, so he thought it had gone pretty well all things considered.
Reaching up, he snagged a chunk of salamander skin from the top shelf.
He grimaced. "You know, I really don't think I'll ever want to go diving so badly that I'll be willing to drink this swill."
"It's not the most appetizing slate of ingredients is it?" Lily agreed with a matching look of distaste.
"What were you looking for?" James asked.
"Just some crabgrass."
"Oh, I think I spotted some on the top shelf. Want me to grab it for you?"
Now, on his Cleansweep Deluxe, James would swear that he had only been trying to be helpful. His beloved broomstick crash into the Whomping Willow if he had even a hint of an ulterior motive. In his offer to assist, James did not intend to cast any aspersions on anyone else's height.
That was not how Lily saw it when she all but exploded.
James had forgotten just how tetchy short people could get about these things. Merlin.
"No! No, I do not need your help! I am perfectly capable of getting it myself. Just because you're practically a half-giant you think you can just go around having a laugh about those of us who are of a perfectly normal height. Perfectly normal, I'll have you know," Lily ranted at him.
Defensively, James raised his hands against the onslaught, "I just meant –"
"You're the one whose height is strange. I think I'll go recommend you be studied in Care of Magical Creatures to Professor Kennedy because you're clearly not human. How would you like that? Hmm? Hmm?"
"I…wouldn't."
"Exactly! Now, shove off," Lily said triumphantly.
James stared in awe at her little form for a second before asking, "Have you always been this mad or are you going through some kind of episode?"
Lily's answering glare was fierce.
"Tell me how you're going to reach the crabgrass with your perfectly normal-sized arms," James said cockily, leaning up against the shelf. "There's no way you can reach it."
Lily spluttered. He may not have started this looking for a fight, but boy would he enjoy it now that one was inevitable.
"I'm a witch aren't I? I'll use magic," Lily said.
"Well, now I know I have you flustered. You can't use magic near the ingredients or you'll contaminate them. If I know that, you sure as hell do," James said calmly.
Lily turned pink at the realization that he was right. Doubtlessly, she would never have actually tried such a thing. He had just caught her off guard, and she was grasping for a way to outwit him.
"Slughorn keeps a stool in here just for these moments," Lily said.
James let his eyes slowly drift over the room. There was no stool in sight.
"There's…there's usually a stool," Lily said a bit desperately, obviously not seeing it either.
He didn't doubt her. It made sense that there must be a way for shorter students to gather supplies without assistance. Fate was clearly on his team though because it was conspicuously absent now.
"I think I'll leave you to it," James said, walking towards the door.
Frantically, Lily's eyes cast between the top shelf, the door, and James. She was probably imagining how embarrassing it would be to have to go out to the classroom and ask for help. It would also be difficult to explain just what exactly she had been doing for the last five minutes if not gathering her ingredients.
"Relax, Evans," he said, sensing that she was working herself up. Effortlessly, he leaned up and grabbed the jar of crabgrass, depositing it in her hands. "I told you I would help you out."
Being the swell bloke he was, he didn't even give her a hard time for not saying thank you as she gaped at him. He really enjoyed how much she was always rearing for a fight. It made him laugh. Honestly, and Mary thought she was the nutter in Gryffindor.
"Us freakishly tall folk have our uses. I'll see you later at the prefect meeting," James said, leaving her with a wink.
Slughorn eyed him suspiciously when he reentered the classroom, lips pursed into that judgmental frown he always favored with James. He wanted to feel offended by his professor's lack of faith but figured there was actually a lot of bad behavior that he could get up to in that supplies cupboard and Slughorn was smart to not put it past him. James was every bit capable of using those stores for evil.
Matter of fact, he noticed that Snape didn't have his textbook with him today. It must have been melted alongside his other belongings when James blew up his potion. Signs of the little inconvenience left James feeling positively peppy.
He really needed to address the fact that Slughorn thought so little of him though, if only because his wager with Lily was riding on it. If Lily was beloved by all of her professors, and this professor most of all, then James sure as hell would be too. It would just require a little bit of wooing, which was just as nauseating as it sounded.
"Professor Slughorn," James said in his most ingratiating voice. "I was just in the supplies cupboard, and I noticed that the stool was missing, so I had to help Evans reach the top shelf."
Confused as to why James was telling him this did not even begin to describe the look of consternation on Slughorn's face.
"It occurred to me that there's probably a way you can organize all the ingredients so that you can put the most used supplies on the lower shelves where everyone can reach them," James said.
"I appreciate your insight, Mr. Potter," Slughorn said a bit sharply.
Great, the fool thought James was criticizing him.
"Well, I just meant that perhaps you would appreciate a bit of help in reorganizing," James said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I know the younger students make such a mess of things too. Maybe you could use help with, I dunno, an inventory of your ingredients."
The level of attention this simple offer drew from the class was entirely overdramatic. Honestly, as if it was so impossible that James was just trying to be nice…to, err, Slughorn. Perhaps they had a point.
"I'm a busy man, Mr. Potter. I don't have the time to supervise you mucking about in my supplies," Slughorn said.
"Quite right, Professor. I wasn't thinking," James agreed hastily.
Slughorn's already beady eyes narrowed further. "You're not going to try to convince me that you can be trusted in the supplies cupboard by yourself?"
"I'm just trying to be helpful, sir. I don't want to bother you," James said.
"Why?"
James lowered his voice so that only Slughorn could hear. He didn't need everyone thinking he'd suffered some kind of personality malfunction and was now brown-nosing to all of the professors. Sure that was exactly what he was doing, but everyone else could remain ignorant.
"I s'pose I've been thinking about the future lately and how much I'm going to miss it here when I have to leave. It's made me want to be more involved, to better the place. Hogwarts is home, you know?"
In James' favor was the fact that he had yet to be caught in any bad bit of mischief that year. Sure he had racked up a few detentions – he had one with McGonagall tomorrow from the singing incident last Tuesday – but he had largely avoided any big shows of bad behavior. He'd also been awarded Head Boy by Dumbledore, which had to mean something. These two facts combined to present a pretty convincing argument to Slughorn that James had matured.
"I'll be monitoring detention in here on Wednesday. If you like, you could come then, so I can keep an eye on you," Slughorn offered warily.
James did not fancy this plan at all. Spending an hour or two alone at work was far preferable to spending an hour or two with Slughorn prattling on in his ear. There was, however, no graceful way to back out now. If he did, Slughorn would assume James hesitance was because he had planned to steal something from his stores and he would leave with a worse impression of James than when the conversation started.
"Thank you, sir. I'll look forward to it. Would you mind if I picked your brain a bit as well? I'll probably be joining the Ministry after term ends, and you have so much insight into the way things operate there. It would be very helpful," James said.
He probably should have withheld that last bit as it seemed enormously possible that Slughorn was going to explode with joy. James taking advantage of his many privileges and showing some ambition made him far more valuable in Slughorn's greedy, little eyes. Flattery about Slughorn's connections on top of that was too much for the man to handle.
Clapping his hands together, Slughorn's entire countenance shifted to one of welcome. "Of course, my boy. I'm always happy to help out a student. You know, over the years I've developed a number of useful connections in the ministry. Former students who remember their dear, old professor after they make something of themselves. Such wonderful chaps. Did you know the Head of the Department of International Cooperation always sends me a Christmas card? Personally written, not something delivered by an assistant. It's the dearest thing."
"Mr. Bertrand is very kind," James agreed. "We had him over at mine for Christmas Eve dinner last year, and he was very charming. Do you know his daughter, Esme? Very bright girl. She's set to start Hogwarts next year."
Slughorn beamed. In over six years, this was the friendliest conversation the two had shared and yet this tiny bit of sycophantic name-dropping would doubtlessly be enough to confirm James as one of Sluggy's favorite students. Years from now, he would speak about James to his Potions class as if they had been the closest of confidantes, a mentor to young James Potter. It kind of made James want to be sick, but he knew how the game was played.
When he returned to his desk, Remus tried to ask him what that had been about, but James brushed him aside dismissively. All in all, it was a very successful class period. His potion turned out, if not perfect, then at least acceptable and Slughorn gave him an O for his efforts, he had gained a professor's respect, increasing his chances of winning the bet, and he had thoroughly crushed one of his best mate's spirits. Fruitful.
It appeared he would be accomplishing even more before lunch because Lily stopped him in the corridor after class ended.
"I was hoping I could have a word," Lily said tentatively.
James looked to his mates. Remus seemed all too happy to put some space between them after the morning of abuse he'd suffered, while Sirius looked positively sour. Granted, Sirius had worn an expression of mild hostility all day. With the least personal drama of the group, Peter predictably couldn't have cared less.
"You can have several," James said after he observed his friends wouldn't be voicing any objections.
"I'll be in the library if you need anything," Remus said quietly, departing with Peter at his side.
He was glad that Peter was sticking close to Remus. That way if his friend decided to open up there would be someone there to listen.
"I won't be in the library, so don't bother looking for me there," Sirius said, making to leave as well.
"Actually, I was hoping to speak to you," Lily said.
It hadn't occurred to either of them that Sirius would be the one to whom Lily was refering. Lately, she and James had become practically attached at the hip with all the business they shared. He had just assumed.
"Well, both of you," Lily corrected. "I want to speak to both of you about separate things."
Lily paused as if unsure how to begin. Excusing himself so Lily could speak to Sirius privately was probably what she had in mind, but he had no intention of doing so. Propriety be damned. He looked down at Lily expectantly, while Sirius regarded her with an expression of contempt. It was hard to believe that she could act so timid after the demonic display from the supply cupboard.
"What is it, Lily? As you've probably noticed, Sirius has been in a swell mood all day, so it's probably best to just come out with it, yeah," James urged.
He found it was perfectly natural to use her given name. James was trying to help quell her obvious nervousness about whatever she was going to say, and he couldn't properly convey that everything would be fine using her surname. Earlier in the week, when he'd comforted her about the thestral incident, he had done the same – a thoughtless transition to familiarity. Already he called her Lily in his thoughts. It was borderline intoxicating to say out loud.
His strategy appeared to work because Lily replied, "Right, sorry. I owe both of you an apology."
There were two issues James immediately took with this statement. The first was that, as far as he knew, Lily owed no such thing to either of them. A quick review of the past few days had him coming up empty for any way Lily had wronged them. The second and more alarming concern was that in over six years, Lily had never once apologized to James or Sirius – not when she docked points or publicly rejected James or the time she had reported Sirius for cheating on a History of Magic exam in second year. Generally, Lily was not given to apologies, but she was especially opposed to apologizing to them.
With this in mind, Lily's pronouncement filled James with a sense of dread. If Lily was overcoming her pride and apologizing, she must have done something awful. He wasn't sure if he wasn't better off not knowing.
"What did you do?" James asked, fear evident in his voice.
"You know. I'm sorry for losing my temper with you earlier," Lily said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You were being alright, and I acted…well, as you said, a bit mad."
"Do you mean the crabgrass thing?"
"Of course. I suppose I am a bit sensitive about my height, not that I'm not perfectly normal, but some people have expressed a different opinion," Lily said hurriedly.
"Right. You're perfectly average, and I'm freakishly tall," James said.
Sirius scoffed loudly.
"What I'm trying to say," Lily said, ignoring Sirius though she did throw him a glare for good measure, "is thank you for your help."
She gave him a small smile that was so impossibly sweet that if James had known how to respond before (he hadn't), he most certainly had forgotten now. It was a good thing her mad antics hadn't bothered him because there was no staying cross with that face.
James was astounded. Never in a million years would he have predicted that Lily might feel anything but justified about her behavior. Sure, she had acted completely barmy, but that was their way. He could be a complete arse, making derisive comments and digging at her in the hopes of making her explode, and she in return never took his feelings into consideration in her attempts to verbally eviscerate him. It was their thing. Contrition had never before factored into it.
Beyond the fact that he hadn't expected an apology was his opinion that he hardly needed one for something so insignificant. Screeching and insults from Lily always rolled off him as if he'd cast an Imperturbable Charm on himself. He always considered himself lucky to have had a chance to peek at that passion she tried to hide, broiling beneath the surface. Proximity to it left him feeling warmer. He suspected it might increase his life expectancy by a month each time he was fortunate enough to bear witness, as if he were leeching off her life-force.
Apologies here were unnecessary, especially one delivered with such tentative hopefulness. And that's what she was: hopeful. She was worried as if James would spit in her face. No bloke could stand to disappoint a girl when she presented herself like that.
"Any time, Lily. I'm rather fond of your episodes," James said.
Lily smiled back bashfully. "Then we'll have to do it again sometime."
They would probably have stood there beaming at each other until lunch had ended if Sirius didn't interrupt with a snapped, "Oy, quit flirting with him and give me my apology so I can get some food."
"Sorry, um…." Any relief she may have felt at James' easy acceptance of her apology evaporated instantly. "Last night with Marlene, I'm sorry for becoming so cross. I had not right. It wasn't any of my business."
"If I recall, and maybe my memory is muddled from the brain damage I sustained, you're not the one who needs to be sorry," Sirius said dismissively.
He made as if to walk away, but Lily reached out and stopped him. For James' apology, she had been antsy, practically bouncing from foot to foot. Now, she was solid and unyielding. Apparently, Sirius's apology required more of a grit-your-teeth-and-do-it kind of attitude. Determination was visible in the tilt of her jaw. Were Sirius to try and walk away, she would follow him.
"I do need to apologize. For as long as I've known you, you have been nothing but nice…well, maybe not to everyone, but at least to me and certainly to Marlene. Reacting like I did, well it was like saying you're not good enough. Like you're dirty somehow. You've done nothing to deserve that, and I'm sorry," Lily said.
James was pleased to see that Sirius appeared just as flustered by a contrite Lily as James himself had been. Sirius was trying to gaze off at the wall in disinterest, but he was clearly affected. The evidence was in his hands, which squirmed even as his face remained impassive.
Her apology to Sirius hadn't even been delivered as sweetly as James' had been and Sirius was a lost cause. From the looks of it, Lily felt a lot more guilt about her behavior towards Sirius. Self-castigation was present in the way her words tumbled over each other and the fact that she couldn't quite meet his eyes.
To be fair to his mate, it was probably the content of her apology rather than the delivery that was affecting him. Sirius had never gone as gooey over Lily as James had. No, he was thrown off balance because so much of his behavior was designed to encourage people's censure. He wanted to prove everyone's low expectations right but on his own terms. James figured his best mate felt safer that way.
Yet here was ridiculously judgmental Lily Evans telling him that he deserved more. There was nothing tainted about him. Obviously, Sirius hadn't done as good a job at managing expectations as he had thought.
James' read on the situation was that Sirius was one hundred percent uncomfortable but also a little bit touched. Considering he was the foremost scholar in the field of interpreting Sirius Black, James was pretty confident that he had accurately pegged Sirius's feelings on the matter.
"Just forget about it, Evans," Sirius said tersely.
Not able to interpret Sirius's behavior as accurately as James could, Lily clearly took that as a rejection.
"Right, yeah. Of course, you don't have to forgive me. Just know that I'm deeply ashamed of my behavior, and I'm truly sorry from the very bottom of –"
"Merlin, you're forgiven!" Sirius said quickly.
James judged this to be a wise move on Sirius's part as Lily was clearly nowhere near finished.
"That's kind of you," Lily sighed in relief. "Another thing –"
Sirius groaned.
"Please don't think any less of Marlene just because her mates are all mad. You of all people should know what that's like seeing as you're friends with this one," she said, gesturing at James and earning a reluctant smile from Sirius. "Marly's a good friend to have. The best friend to have really. I'd hate for you to write her friendship off because of me and Mary."
Her request struck James as odd, considering there wasn't much of a friendship between Sirius and Marlene to salvage. He highly doubted Sirius placed any value on the quiet girl, so his opinion couldn't have been lessened much.
When James tried to catch Sirius's eye to share with him this, in James' opinion, obvious thought, Sirius didn't return it. Instead, he regarded Lily contemplatively before ultimately nodding in agreement.
"Well, I won't keep you anymore," Lily said a tad awkwardly now that her intended task was accomplished.
"You're not going to the Great Hall?" Sirius asked.
Lunch hour had already started, so it only made sense that they would walk there together. James sincerely hoped that she wasn't planning to trail a few meters behind them the whole journey as if that would somehow be less awkward than enduring the strained small talk that would occur if she joined them like a normal, functioning human being. He knew Sirius was worried about the same thing, hence the question.
"Oh, no! Professor Sodhi's predicting that the Whomping Willow's going to drop all its leaves within the hour. I've always wanted to see it. It's supposed to be magnificent to stand underneath as they all rain down, and as long as you stay towards the perimeter, the Willow won't try to attack you," she said wistfully.
The image of Lily spinning around and giggling as bright orange leaves whirled around her, tangling in her hair, made his stomach clench.
"You really are barmy," Sirius chuckled.
"Don't pretend you don't want to see it too, or is your 'ability to completely lose yourself in nature's wonders' reserved for baby animals?" Lily cooed.
Sirius groaned as she perfectly quoted Marlene's story. Apparently James was not the only one who had been positively tickled by Marlene's romantic characterization of Sirius. James was delighted to have found a partner in his plans to endlessly torment him.
Impulsively, he raised his hand for a high-five, which Lily, laughing, returned. Sirius stormed off muttering about 'traitors' and 'libel.'
"Before you go," James said, drawing his eyes away from Sirius's retreating back, "what brought all this about?"
Lily didn't have to ask him to clarify further. They both knew that unprompted apologies had never been her style. Something had caused her to give it a try. Considering James had never been someone to apologize either, he found himself curious as to what it could be.
"I've never really liked to say I'm sorry because I never believed anyone would forgive me," Lily said sheepishly. "I suppose, it seemed like a waste, but I…I think I've underestimated my own capacity to forgive, and I'm hoping other people are more forgiving than I've ever given them credit for too."
The words came slowly as if she were weighing each one. Judging by the frustrated purse of her lips, she still wasn't happy with what she managed to convey. Some things were impossible to put into words.
"And it's nice to hear, you know? I'm sorry. How can I wish someone else will say it to me if I never say it either?" Lily continued.
"Are you hinting that I owe you an apology?" James joked.
Lily laughed. "You probably owe me several, but I'll survive without.
He wanted to know whose apology she longed for; he wanted to know if she was going to extend her tour of apologies to anyone else; and most of all, he wanted to know how she felt now that she had said it.
But Lily Evans was a girl who was born to dance under a tree of falling leaves and marvel at the changing of the seasons. He would never want to hold her back from that.
So he let her go with his questions unanswered.