A/N: So, I haven't updated in a while. I apologize for that. But I think you'll find this a bit more interesting.

That was Monty Python, for all you ignorant fools out there.

Not the updating part.

Anyway, here's the next chappie. And now you'll read it. You'll read it and like it.

Disclaimer: Most of this crap belongs to J.K., the plotline and some characters belong to me, and of course the appearance of Jesus-boy belongs to Hot Guy in My Math Class, as it is (technically) his face.

"This sucks," Jen said, throwing down her quill and collapsing back against her chair with a huff.

I looked up at her from the enormous book on the table in front of me (Runes and Ruins: A Historical Guide to the Symbology and Magical Aspects of Early Byzantium Society). Her essay had made at least some progress over the past forty-five minutes—below her name and the title, the first sentence was almost halfway formed.

"Well, don't sweat it," I told her, going back to Runes and Ruins. "You know the hardest part of an essay is always the first seven words."

"Ha ha, you're extremely witty," she mumbled, rubbing bleary eyes with her fists. I grinned, flipping a page of the huge tome. I wondered vaguely what it was about. So far the only thing I had been able to deduce was that it was totally uninteresting.

There was a sigh from my right and Izzy set down her quill too. Her essay was nearly a page, but so full of crossings out and doodles that she'd probably have to rewrite the whole thing anyway. I looked down at the list of questions I was supposed to be answering from this book. Only three were checked off, while the other 47 still sat there blankly. I scanned down the list, looking wistfully for something that I knew how to answer, but soon gave it up as hopeless. Sighing as well, I closed the book and slumped back in my chair.

"Today is just not a homework day," Izzy said wearily.

"I'll second that," Ari commented as she sat down next to me. "I couldn't find a single book that mentioned the dragon pox epidemic of Canterbury."

"Screw homework," I proclaimed. "I officially declare this a night off."

"See, now don't you feel better?" came a familiar voice from behind the bookshelves. Black stepped out, hands shoved in his pockets, grinning roguishly. "Just imagine how good you'd feel if you took my approach and declared every night a night off."

"Better leave quickly, Black," Jen commented, twirling her wand nonchalantly so that her quill spun in circles above the table. "We're in a library—you might accidentally catch a whiff of a book and I know you're allergic to knowledge."

"You offend me, Jennikins!" he said, throwing a hand to his chest in mock horror. "You're implying that I would enter a library for my own purposes. As a matter of fact I was looking for ol' Moony. Seen him anywhere?"

"No," I said, shoving my stuff away in the bag beneath my chair. Black sighed, walked over to our table, and began to pull out a chair.

"Well, I'll just wait here, he's bound to turn up eventual—"

"No," Jen said, pushing the chair back in with her foot. Black blinked.

"What?"

"No. As in, no you are not waiting for Remus within a twenty-foot radius of this table."

"Now Jennipoo, that's just cold," Black said, frowning. "But fine, if you don't want me near you…" He walked over to a table far away from ours. "Better?"

"That's only fifteen feet," she called without looking at him. He grinned and scooted the chair back until he was across the room from us. Rolling my eyes at the pettiness of those two, I pulled out Little Women and flipped open to the dog-eared page. It promptly fell out of the book.

"Shit," I mumbled and, with a casual flick of my wand, resealed the page into the binding.

"No, come on! Don't be boring," Jen pleaded. "Let's play Nertz." Izzy and Ari instantly threw down what they were doing and began to insist loudly. All four of us had become addicted to the game.

"Fine," I grumbled, grinning despite myself and pulling out the decks of cards. "Who are teams?"

"Ooo, what are we playing?"

"Black, how did you even get over here without us seeing?? Get back to your own side!"

"C'mon! I'm really good at card games!"

"No, you're not."

"How would you know?"

"I know all."

"Okay fine, I'm lousy, but that way you can feel better about yourselves when you beat me!"

"Tempting though that is, no."

"Besides, I feel better about myself when you just walk in a room. I'll save a slice of the self-esteem pie for later."

"Nice metaphor, Jen."

"Thank you."

"Come on! Why won't you let me play?"

"Because that would violate the twenty-feet rule."

"Fine, if you won't let me play, I'll just sit right here in your way Jennipoo, and sing our tacky, annoying school song."

"We have a school song?"

"Apparently, Iz."

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts…"

"Your voice is terrible."

"…US SOMETHING PLEASE, WHETHER WE BE OLD AND BALD OR YOUNG…"

"That was not an invitation to sing louder!"

"I don't honestly think he cares."

"Do you really love your own voice that much, Black? I can't imagine why—"

"…OUR HEADS COULD DO WITH FILLING WITH SOME INTERESTING…"

"I can't believe he knows this much of the song."

"Impressed, Jen?"

"No, more saddened really."

"I hope this song is very, very short."

"…DEAD FLIES AND BITS OF FLUFF…"

"Yeah, I'm starting to think that even if it is, we'll be subjected to several rounds of it."

"Shut up, Black."

"…BRING BACK WHAT WE'VE FORGOT…"

"Shut it!"

"…JUST DO YOUR BEST…"

"Remus! Thank God!"

Remus had just wandered into the library, looking mildly surprised to see Black sitting at a table with us singing his head off. The second Black caught sight of him, he jumped up.

"Moony, ol' chum!"

"How has Madame Pince not kicked you out of here yet?" he asked in an amused tone. "What's more, how have my eardrums not burst from the horror that is your voice?"

"Well, it's quite simple really," Black grinned. "The answer to both questions is that I have a lovely voice which reminds one of the sweet nightingale singing its clear serenade from the trees."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Remus said, rolling his eyes. Jen looked up at him imploringly.

"For the love of God Remus, please get him out of here."

"Are you sure?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, an impish glint in his eye. "Sirius knows all the words to each song the Sorting Hat has sung…don't you want to hear those too?"

"NO!" all four of us shouted hastily, as Black took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

"Ah well, I guess your talents aren't appreciated by these crude, uncultured girls," Remus said, shaking his head.

"Tough break, mate," came a new voice. Potter was walking up to our table. "Hey Moony, do you know what the—"

He cut off abruptly at the sight of me. The table suddenly went very quiet. I glared directly back at him, but after a few moments of tense silence he turned his head indifferently to Remus.

"Mind if we sit over there? This table has one too many people at it."

"Oh no, don't deprive of us the witty and intelligent conversation-maker that is James Potter," I said, throwing a hand to my chest in horror. "How will our lowly table survive without him?" He made no reaction to my words except the tiniest jerk of his head, as if he was fighting the urge to turn to me and start another explosive fight.

"How about it, Moony?" he asked, still staring determinedly at Remus.

"Oh—um…" Remus glanced awkwardly at me. I shrugged unconcernedly. "Yeah, sure."

"Good then." Potter turned away from us and stalked off without another word. Black followed at a slightly slower pace. Remus hesitated for a second, looking at me as if he would say something, but seemed to think better of it and walked off, joining the other boys.

"Git," I muttered under my breath, glaring at Potter. He was pulling out books from his bag, pointedly not looking at me.

"Have you talked at all since the fight?" Ari asked me quietly.

"No," I said shortly. Jen was staring down at a book as well, but her eyes weren't moving. I knew she was torn between her continued grudge against Potter and her feelings of guilt for having been one of the reasons we fought.

"How do you feel?" Ari asked, leaning in closer and searching my face. Jen gripped the edges of the book tighter.

"Angry," I said. There was silence.

"Jen, honey…that's my book," Izzy said softly. Jen started slightly, gave a noncommittal jerk of the shoulders, and pushed it over to her.

"Is that all?" Ari asked me, cautious but dogged.

I didn't answer. I had cried nearly every night now since our fight, when I knew that the others were fast asleep. Every time I saw him walking down the corridor, or in the common room, or out on the grounds, I felt a stabbing combination of hope, anger, pain and fear. I couldn't stop my brain from running over the worn edges of our fight, picking out words suddenly to prick new holes in my heart…I'm not the one who begged me to like her again less than a minute ago…Miss-Too-Spineless-To-Disagree-With-Her-Friends…

I didn't know what I wanted. Having the others around me, and especially having Jen talk to me again, was wonderful, but still I felt lost and unanchored, like a boat that had been pulled free of its mooring and was adrift in the middle of the sea. I wanted to talk to Potter so badly, but at the same time I knew that if I talked to him I would only end up yelling again. And how could I tell this to them, to any of them? Particularly to Jen. I knew she hated Potter—I knew she probably always would. How could I explain to her that even though I hated him more than I had believed was possible, I still found myself wanting to be with him, to talk with him?

I blinked back sudden tears and looked up. Jen and Izzy were reading, Ari glanced at me and then began a game of solitaire. I peeked over at the boys' table. Potter was looking at me. As soon as I met his gaze he looked away, as if he had been caught doing something forbidden.

I looked away too and my gaze fell on something which caught my eye. It was a boy, about my age, sitting in a corner by himself and reading. He had shoulder-length, slightly curly chestnut hair and a soft beard and moustache. Usually I hated facial hair on guys under twenty, but it seemed right on his face—sweeping, gentle, like a caress. The light fell conveniently onto him from an open window above and he looked remarkably like someone I had seen in paintings, or pictures…

He shifted slightly and the sunlight formed a radiant halo around the crown of his head. A jolt of surprise hit me and I almost laughed out loud. The boy looked exactly like Jesus.

The more I thought about it, the more remarkable their resemblance. Even his expression as he read—quiet, reverent, serene—was nearly a direct copy of all the icons I had seen at my grandparents' house. As I watched, he shifted slightly, leaning his cheek on the first two fingers of his right hand. At the familiar holy hand gesture, I actually laughed aloud.

My laugh broke the silence of the library. Ari, Izzy and Jen looked up—so, I noticed, did all three boys at the other table.

"What's so funny, Lils?" Jen asked me, perplexed. I glanced over at Jesus-boy. He hadn't moved, or given any sign that he heard my outburst.

"Okay, don't look now, but that boy over there looks exactly like Jesus."

"What?" all three said, predictably craning their necks around to see him.

"Which one?" asked Jen.

"The one reading in the corner."

"I'm pretty sure that's a girl."

"A girl with a beard, Jen?"

"Good point."

"I don't see him!"

"He's right there, Iz!"

"Where?"

"Well, he's the only person in this library other than us, the boys and Madame Pince."

"I still can't see him."

"Here, we'll switch places—I have a very good view of him."

"Thank you guys for being so subtle about this."

"Okay, now do you see him?"

"That one with the beard? Wow, he really does look like Jesus!"

"He's pretty hot."

"Yes he is, Ari, yes he is."

"Now that we've made total fools of ourselves, do you think we could stop ogling Jesus-boy?"

"I guess."

As all three turned back, Jesus-boy looked up at me furtively. I felt the most interesting sensation in my stomach. He grinned slightly, and the feeling intensified. Even from across the room I could tell that he had very nice brown eyes. I felt myself smiling back without even meaning to. He returned to his book.

While my eyes were making the trek back to my own table, I caught Potter once again looking at me. This time when I made eye contact he didn't look away. There was the smallest twinge in my stomach—for what, I couldn't tell. But I broke his gaze resolutely and turned back to our table, where a game of nertz was starting.

A/N: Kind of a random ending. Meh. I updated.

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Phoenix Queen