CHAPTER 25

Six Saturdays after term began, I'd had enough of spending endless hours pouring over essays, translations, exercises, and readings, so instead I packed up my things and made for the dance studio. My art assignment this term was to create something abstract- something without meaning. To say I was having trouble was a bit of an understatement. Sure- I like to think I have an active imagination, and sure I have a creative streak, but without meaning? That's a whole new ballgame. My only progress so far was a choice of song- the music was was odd, chunky and distracting. But I liked it nonetheless. Staring around the small studio, I longed for the summer. For Eliza the muggle, for her gigantic studio, and for the carefree days I had taken for granted. As the hours dragged on I found no inspiration, no muse, no intent for the choreography. I meandered randomly around the room, sticking my arms out at odd angles and throwing my legs into strange positions. After two very frustrating hours, the door to the studio cracked open to reveal a fresh looking Scor, a cheeky smile pinching his face.

"Morning Lily," he drawled, stepping uninvited into the room.

"Morning, Scor. What's up?"

"Oh- you know, I just thought we could use this time to work on our entry for the talent ball. Its only two months away. Unless you're busy, of course," he glanced doubtfully around the room, eyes lingering on the crackling stereo that was still spouting my art music. I rolled my eyes.

"No- not really. Let me put my pointes on." As I crossed the room, Scor's eyes followed, staring rather intently. "What's wrong Scor, finally fallen for the beauteous Lily Potter?" I teased, flipping my hair over my shoulder and placing my hand on my hip. Blushing bright pink, his only reply was,

"Oh um… No, of course not… why would you think that?" I raised my eyebrows.

"I was joking, Scor." Tieing on a brand new pair of pointe shoes, I walked to the centre of the floor, flicking my mmp3 to the song we had been working with.

"Right well… I thought we could go over the second chorus. It was a bit sloppy last time, I think you were a count to late on the backward walkover." Without a word, I moved to my position, and counted us in,

"5, 6, 7, 8." With a what was hopefully graceful flexibility I leaned into a backbend (1, 2), kicking my legs over with pointed feet (3, 4), fell gently back into Scor's waiting arms (5), swung my legs up to my chest (6), and felt weightless as I was flicked into the air (7), landing carefully at Scor's feet (8).

"That was better…" he said cautiously, knowing how snappish I'd been lately, "but perhaps you could try using the momentum of the walkover to fling up your legs? You kind of dragged up a bit, and it really needs to be sharp. And don't forget to point your feet for the whole sequence." Sticking my tongue out at him, I tried as best I could to memorise his notes, and only hoped I could apply them. Resuming my position, we tried it again, and again, and again, and again, and again. By the time Scor was finally satisfied, it was half past two, and I was gasping for breath, tipping the entire contents of my drink bottle down my throat and over my head. I mean, it was easy enough for him. All he had to do was catch. More than eager to take a nice cold shower, I began to pack up my things when I felt my best friend's hand on my shoulder.

"Just a moment, Lil. Don't you think we should try the dance with the added sequence- you know, actually put it to music?" His voice was soft, like a melody, and it was all I could do to say,

"Sure Scor, but just once. I'm beat."

Together, we moved around the floor, perfectly synchronised, perfectly balanced. He caught me when I fell. Took hold when I reached. Moved when I moved. The dance was perfect, and I knew it. So when it finished, and Scor was staring at me with an incredulous look on his face I was more than shocked. Surely it hadn't been that terrible? Surely I hadn't made that many mistakes? Surely we hadn't been that out of time?

"What now, Scor?" I said, with a hand on my hip.

"You're glowing," he replied with a whisper, so soft I wondered if he had actually said anything.

"Of course I am glowing, Scor!" I exclaimed, exasperated and growing impatient. "Or have you missed the past eighteen months?"

"But Lily- your glowing red!" I glanced in the mirror that ran the length of the room to find that I was indeed pulsing an unhealthy, violent looking red. My hair was tossed about my head, having darkened to a fiery orange since term had begun, framing my pale white skin and the bruised looking bags under my eyes. As I stared at my reflection, and a crazed looking miscreation stared back, my breathing quickened. How had this happened? Carefully, Scor approached me with light steps.

"Lily- are you okay?" I didn't reply, but instead remained eye locked with myself. I felt his hand on my shoulder, tugging me from the mirror. "Lily- come with me, look away from the mirror." I did as I was told, and felt the tidal wave of emotions swelling inside me begin to calm almost instantly.

"What have I become?" I whispered, staring directly at Scor. I still felt unhinged by what I had seen, unstable on my own feet. Fortunately for me steady hands were at the ready, when I did fall, tumbling into my best friends arms.

"Nothing. You are who you have always been- it's probably just stress, nothing to worry about. We always knew your powers are tied to your emotions." He smiled weakly, resting a soft hand on my blotched cheek. In reply I grimaced, pushing him away and grabbing my things.

"Scor- I, I have to go. I need to do homework, I have about a billion essays due and three translations, and only one time turner hour left. See you tomorrow." Without another word I left the studio, looking over my shoulder to see Scor standing confused and broken.

I didn't go back to the dance studio for an age after that, instead turning in a botched piano composition for my assignment. Three days after the 'incident', I plodded from the art classroom with a sigh, and sleepily made for potions. These days advanced potions was my safe haven. It was such a simple process; chop, cut, stir. All you had to do was follow the instructions to the letter, which was a blessing in comparison to the hoops my other instructors were insisting I jump through. Today we were finishing off a strengthening solution, a tricky potion we had begun working on last week. According to the Proffesuer it was considered a grade five potion by the British Ministry for Magic, but this was advanced potions. This was Beauxbatons. Screwing up my face, I begun chopping my griffin claw into perfectly sliced cubes, scowling when I was interrupted by a nasal voice I had never heard before. Knife still in hand, I spun around to find a boy I had in fact, seen more than several times, passing through the corridors.

"I'm Sam," he said, voice sounding somewhat less grating now that I could see his face… his very well sculptured face. Samuel Gliori was unanimously agreed to be the cutest boy in third grade, followed closely by David Malouf and Vincent St Paul.

"Oh, I am Lily- I think we've met?" He smiled, extending a hand.

"I suppose we must have, which is, if you don't mind my saying, not so surprising considering we are two people out of only sixteen in the third grade?" Blushing, I gripped his hand, shaking it firmly.

"I suppose you are right."

"Well, Lily, I hate to ask, but my potion appears to have turned a hideous shade of orange" -I checked the book. It was meant to be navy blue- "and I fear it is beyond saving. Would you mind terribly if I was to work with you?" I bit my lip. Potions was my thing- I didn't share it with anyone; certainly not boys with clumsy hands and orange potions, even if they were ridiculously handsome. Before I could tell him no, I didn't think so, he shot me an award winning smile, and my heart melted.

"Sure, Sam!" I babbled, moving over so he could join me at the bench.

Oh god, what have I become?

Fifty minutes later, I was, to be quite honest, quite proud of our efforts. Moments before Proffesuer Andres came to inspect our solution, I trickled in the last of the salamander blood while Sam whisked away all the dirty equipment, leaving our bench clean with perfection. Peering into our cauldron, the Proffesuer stirred it cautiously with a nearby silver rod, smiling when a soft lilac kind of steam wafted from within. In what I would say was an act of immense bravery or perhaps immense trust in both his students and his teaching abilities, Proffesuer Andres stuck out his tongue, allowing several drops of the lilac mist to condense in his mouth. For a moment he was quiet, his face thoughtful, before finally announcing;

"Good, very good. Almost perfect, in fact. One too many porcupine spines, I think." He scrutinized the pair of us with immense satisfaction. "You two should work together more often," he finally proclaimed as he shuffled off to the only other students in the room. After several silent moments I turned to face Sam, who was smiling triumphantly.

"Perfect!" he exclaimed, clapping me on the shoulder.

"Almost perfect," I corrected, with a cheeky smile, shoving my things into my already full bag as Sam imitated my actions.

"So Lily… You're really good at potions, and I like to think I am pretty near fantastic…" I laughed, remembering his fluorescent potion from earlier that lesson. Sam frowned.

"I did say pretty near. Anyway- I was thinking we could study sometime. You know- potions, runes, latin." My heart was pounding so loudly, I wondered if he could hear it.

"That would be great, Sam. How about tomorrow afternoon?" I could only hope I didn't sound too keen.

"Sounds good, Lily. We can work on Andres's ten inch essay on the moral implications of the draught of peace." I frowned, Andres hadn't assigned us an essay, but before I could say anything I was interrupted.

"I want a ten inch essay on the moral implications concerning the draught of peace, which we will be concocting next Thursday. Due Tuesday." My mouth fell open, and I looked at Sam.

"How did you know?" But he only winked at me, and sauntered out the door, calling over his shoulder,

"See you tomorrow, Lily! Eight o'clock in the library, okay?"

For the most part, I barely spoke to Scor for the next three weeks. It wasn't intentional, at least that's what I told myself- we were just both so busy. Especially since I barely ever studied in the common rooms, as I spent most of my free time studying the library with or without Sam, who took much the same subjects as me. Three Wednesdays after the incident in the dance studio found our selves alone in the fifth year common room (the library had closed nearly an hour ago). Like usual, my nose was glued to a transfiguration text, and Scor's quill was scratching incessantly at a marred bit of parchment. After I had fallen asleep for the third time, nestling my head against the curve of my friends arm, Scor broke the silence.

"I'm worried about you, Lily," he said quietly, in a determined voice, "I don't know what to do anymore." I frowned.

"Do about what?"

"You, my little Lily! You are tired all the time and you hardly ever eat- not to mention Sunday!" I slapped him lightly.

"I thought we agreed not to talk about that! It was just the one time! Just a mistake, just a memory…" A lie. It had happened thrice since, my eyes glowing red with my body, and a pain in my chest that I couldn't handle. But still, he didn't need to know that. Rolling his eyes, the reply I received was exasperated, at best.

"No, you agreed, and don't change the subject! Clearly this time turner business is too much for you, don't be ashamed about it. Plenty of students- most, students- don't even last a week! You're in over your head and you're just too proud too-"

"Too proud?" I interrupted, raising my voice not just a notch, but an octave, "You think I am too proud, Scorpius? Well- let me tell you something, buddy, I'm coping just fine, thank you very much, at least I would be if you weren't so patronizing all the time! You think you know better? You don't!" I was shrieking by that point, and it was safe to say that seven weeks into term I was nearing on an emotional breakdown, and I was anything but mentally stable.

"I just want to help, Lily." His reply was laced with exasperation, punctuated by the roll of his eyes. I glared at him.

"I don't need your help, Scor! Not if your only suggestion is for me to hand back my time turner and drop two subjects! I won't take the easy path!" Clearly, my words had stung, as he leant back in his seat.

"The easy path, Lily?" My mind spun as I realised what I had said,

"Oh-no Scor, that's not what I-" But I couldn't finish.

"I know what you meant, Lily." His voice was harsh, and piercing. "I know what you meant." He paused for an agonizingly long amount of time. "I just wanted to help. You seem so fragile- so exhausted. It hurts me to see you hurting like that, I just…" Looking up from the table, he looked me straight in the eye, but I had already closed my heart.

"Sorry, Scor, but I don't need you to look out for me. You're not my mother... and you are most certainly not my boyfriend." Head bowed, my best friend returned to his work with a shrug, and I wondered what was really bothering him.

Several hours later, and no more words had escaped Scor's pinched mouth. I bit my lip. I didn't mean what I said; I did need him. I needed him more than anything. I need him to protect me, to laugh with me, to be my best friend. When he left without sound, no nod, no wave, I felt my heart break. Had I destroyed our friendship forever?

I suppose I should have just marched right up to him, tapped on his shoulder, and apologized. But like Scor said, I was just too proud, and while it was true; I did need him, I didn't need him to boss me around, or tell me what to do. We barely spoke for the rest of the term, sitting on opposite sides of the breakfast table, avoiding each other in the corridors, and ignoring our friends' pleas to make up. On a sunny Tuesday, two weeks before school was out, the six of us (along with Sam, Tilly and Robert) were sitting awkwardly in the third year commons. Sam and Dmitri were eagerly discussing an upcoming Quidditch match, Tilly, Elise and Nat were deliberating their holiday plans, while Bella and Robert huddled on a small couch supposedly chatting about a transfiguration essay. Scor and I sat cumbersomely on opposite ends of a large couch, quiet, catching only snatches of the other's conversation.

"Yeah, man! I heard their seeker can pull a wronski feint!" Dmitri.

"Bella and I are vacationing on the southern coast of France, it's going to be magnifique! We are going to meet cute boys… and drink mugs of hot chocolate." Tilly.

"Robert, we should be studying!" this voice was laced with a giggle. Definitely Bella. Before I could decide whether or not I wanted to look up and see what they were doing instead of studying, an excited call bounced off the walls of the commons.

"The Christmas ball! The announcement has been posted! It's next weekend!" The whole third floor seemed to flock towards the notice board, pushing and shoving to catch a glimpse of the same flyer that was posted every year. My friends left their previous conversations behind, instead bantering excitedly about the ball.

"Oh this year is going to be just perfect!" cried Elise, "Fleur sent me a dress just last week, and isn't it beautiful?" my girlfriends nodded their heads in agreement, and I looked over to join in the fun; catching Scor's eye. I felt a stinging in my chest. Scor and I had gone to every ball together since I had started school… every masquerade, and every gala. But now… Unable to take it, I flicked my eyes away, moving closer to the girls, perching myself on the seat next to Sam. As the animated debate went on, I forgot all about Scor, throwing myself into a discussion about a ball I probably wouldn't be attending.

A/N

Hello beautiful people!
1. Please review! i would cry if y'all could get me to fifty reviews with this chapter! please? pretty please? just a single word is a okay with me- Outstanding, Exceeds Exceptions, Acceptable, Poor, Dreadful, Troll.
2. Sorry- two days later than I expected, but you know, life does like to get in the way of things!
3. So! New chapter, new character! What does everyone think of Sam?
4. Not too happy with this chapter- i mean, it has all the elements i wanted, but some reason i just couldnt get it right.