After news of our rematch spread, Bellatrix Black accosted me in the entrance hall after dinner.

"My cousin tells me that you had the Headmaster ban Hippogriff from Hogwarts because you're afraid you'll lose our rematch," she alleged smugly, leaning beside a suit of armor, and inspecting her nails disinterestedly.

Well, and here I'd thought that at the very least, Hogwarts knew how to spread information accurately, but it seemed only to be able to produce the most fabulous of rumors.

I laughed. "Did he?"

The smirk she'd been sporting slipped off her face. She appeared genuinely insulted that I'd laughed at her.

So touchy.

"Well, that's news to me," I continued, facing her. "If you must know, it was the school governors' doing, to ban the game from O.F.D. after you hit Nott with a Bludger and broke his arm."

Her eyes flashed with anger, but I saw no regret in them.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I added, "Isn't Nott's father a school governor? Perhaps you should ask him about that. I thought it was his way of forfeiting."

"He would never," she retorted, her voice low and daring me to contradict her.

I shrugged, as smug as she was when we began this encounter. "Then I believe we're on for a rematch. Friday night work for you?"

Now it was her turn to cackle. "I don't believe it! A goody-two-shoes Mudblood Gryffindor like you is going to break the rules!"

I raised an eyebrow at her.

She feigned shock and put a hand sarcastically over her mouth. "Oh, no! Have I insulted you? Please, Head Girl! Don't take any House points from me! I couldn't endure the shame!" She couldn't make it through the last statement without bursting into a fresh bout of gleeful chortles.

"I'll see you on the pitch, Black," I countered. "Hope Nott can make it." I pushed past her and made my way up to Gryffindor tower, hoping to catch up to Jen and have a moment of sanity.

She was curled up in an armchair by the fire in the common room, her quill scratching feverishly across a roll of parchment that looked to be about three or four feet long.

I approached her cautiously. "Jen?"

Her head snapped up and her dark brown eyes were wide with excitement. "Lily!" she sang.

"You missed dinner," I remarked.

She sighed. "I know. I've been holed up in here ever since I heard. I'm writing an appeal to the school governors. I'm sure if we pass this around, we can get the majority of the student body to sign the petition, and after we send this in, they'll have to hold a hearing on it, and if we continue to send them letters, they'll schedule it by Halloween, and we can have Hippogriff reinstated before Christmas!"

She looked so pleased with herself.

I raised my eyebrows at her. "No chance we could get it reinstated by Friday night instead?"

Jen uncurled her legs out from under her and stretched. "Of course not, silly. Why?"

I pursed my lips and settled onto the arm of her chair. "Because that's when we have our rematch."

"What?" she exclaimed. "But—but, you can't. It's been banned!"

"Well, technically, it's only been banned from O.F.D.. McGonagall didn't say anything about extracurricular cases."

"Did you ask if that would be okay?"

Oh, sweet Merlin. If I told her the truth and said no, I hadn't asked McGonagall, then she would literally march me down to her Transfiguration office all the way on the third floor (where she was tutoring some third years) and make me. But if I said yes, then she'd just drop it.

And honestly, if the school governors had banned it specifically from Operation Fire Dragon, then it only made sense that the ban didn't apply to other circumstances.

I took in my chummy as she sat there, having missed dinner to write four feet's worth of an appeal to get this stupid game reinstated. I couldn't lie to her.

"No," I admitted, and she frowned, "but, isn't it better, for a one-time thing, to ask for forgiveness instead of permission?"

She chewed on the inside of her lip in thought. "Perhaps," she said after a long moment. "Though, it's not exactly the best example for you to set as Head Girl."

Apparently Sruthi had been listening in, because she piped up from a nearby couch, "I think a Head Girl should stand up for what's right, and put prejudiced people in their place, don't you?"

We both turned to look at her. She was cocooned in a blanket in the corner of the couch, a single sock-clod foot hanging off the side, and a beginner's Arithmancy book in hand.

Jen sighed, rolling up her length of parchment. "Yes, I do," she answered. "But I'm still going to make sure the school governors know that they're being hypocritical. If safety is their concern, why are they banning Hippogriff and not Quidditch? Or, for that matter, why not ban any practical application of all the magic that we learn here? Clearly, there's some corruption going on, and I intend on going through the proper channels to see it's checked."

"But you won't say anything about the rematch on—when was it, Lily? Friday night?" Sruthi asked me. She'd pulled her hair up so that a fountain of rich brown curls spilled from the back of her head.

"Er, yes." I smiled. "In a week."

Jen pursed her lips. "I won't say anything, but I don't like it," she said.

I grinned and embraced her. "Thank you, chummy!"

She wouldn't return the hug out of spite.

"Can people come watch?" Sruthi asked.

I let go of an unresponsive Jen and smiled at Sruthi. "I don't see why not. It'll be after dinner, though, so just make sure you're quiet about it. I wouldn't want a professor getting wind of it and reporting it to the school governors before we get a chance to compete."

She brought a hand to the side of her head in a salute, and shouted, "Aye, aye, Captain!"

Jen looked up at me, her face impassive. "I hope whatever you're trying to prove is worth it, Lily."

I assured her it was, then begged her to please play a few rounds of Exploding Snap with me because I'd had such a stressful day and wanted to spend quality time with my best mate.

She softened a little at that, and we spent the evening holding our breath with a deck of ticking time bombs between us. It was exactly what I needed.

Before bed, James approached me and asked if I wanted another flying session. "You need to train," he insisted. "A lot of people are counting on you, Lily."

"So no pressure, right?" I said, smiling tiredly.

He squeezed my shoulder in reassurance. "It'll be fine."

I nodded. "Just let me sleep in," I conceded. "Then we can train for as long as you see fit."

His eyes smiled at me and I had to build a brick wall around my feelings and bury them deep lest they inflate so large that I floated off the carpeted floor.

Lily Evans, Girl Balloon.

I went to sleep contemplating whether or not this was a healthy reaction to a boy's smiling eyes, though considering I had very little previous experience with smiling eyes at all, ignoring any and all side effects only seemed natural.

I needed to live my life after all.

I awoke at half past ten, stretching my limbs beneath my red and gold tartan quilt, feeling warm and well rested.

I caught Remus on the way out of the portrait hole and we made our way down to the Great Hall together for a late breakfast.

"What happens if you lose next week?" he asked me, as we waited for the staircases on the fourth floor to return to their place.

A thoughtful frown fixed itself on my face as I answered, "Originally, if I lost, Bellatrix and her blood purist cronies would be allowed to call me 'Mudblood' to my face without consequence."

A frown that could have matched mine settled between his brows and tugged down at the corners of his lips. "And what happens if you win?"

"Er, they won't be able to?"

"Lily, that's a terrible wager. They already aren't allowed to call you that without you taking away House points."

I sighed. "I know. I need to renegotiate terms, but I'm not exactly sure what I'd want out of it. I think there might have been something about an apology as well—I'd have to apologize to Nott about what happened on Tuesday."

He stared at me. "You didn't do anything wrong."

I shrugged. "That's not how they see it."

The staircase landed before us with a great thud and we began our descent to the third floor.

"No surprise there. I wouldn't exactly trust them with any perspective on reality," Remus said, smiling sardonically.

"Hear, hear," I answered, returning his smile.

When we got to the Great Hall, Sirius, James, and Marlene were poring over a copy of The Daily Prophet.

Remus immediately marched towards them. "What's happened?" he asked, his tone as somber as anything.

James peered up at him, all the laughter and smiling gone from his eyes. "There's been another attack. A family of Muggles was found murdered in Little Hangleton. The Prophet won't say it outright, but we know who's behind it."

"Why won't they say who's behind it?" questioned Marlene, twirling a lock of curls before they bounced back into her cloud of hair.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I reckon the Ministry doesn't want to acknowledge there's a war brewing around them while they're powerless to stop it. Fucking cowards."

I sat down next to Marlene and piled some Scotch pancakes onto a plate. "It's easier to pretend it's an isolated incident rather than an escalation of attacks waged by an organized group of wizards."

"Well how do we know it isn't isolated?" Marlene asked.

James pointed at the photograph. Barely visible against the night sky was a cloud in the shape of a skull with a serpent slithering out of its mouth. "The Dark Mark," he replied simply. "It's his mark."

Marlene scoffed, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. "The Prophet's always been a load of shit," she assessed. "Soon they're going to report that a goblin's made off with Gringott's gold and in the same breath say that it's still the safest place on earth."

Sirius snorted. "That's actually on page twelve," he said.

Marlene gaped. "You're joking!"

Sirius turned the page to the appropriate article and Marlene gawked at the words she had so flippantly dreamed up in jest.

James got up from between the two Gryffindor Beaters and plopped down next to me. "I need to owl my parents about something, so I can meet you on the pitch after breakfast?" There was something urgent in his countenance, something pressing, burning through his skin and into the air around him. I imagined millions of atom-sized alarm bells going off around his person.

"Yes, of course," I agreed.

He smiled and got up, eyeing my stack of drop scones with great mirth. "Don't eat too much. You don't want to fly on a full stomach."

I pouted at him. "But they're so good," I protested.

He laughed weakly. "It's all part of your training. Later!"

I waved him off as he sauntered out of the Hall. I turned back to my plate and promised myself I'd only eat half the scones I'd set out for myself. Five minutes later, I promised myself I'd only eat two-thirds of them. Five minutes after that, I was staring at an empty plate feeling extremely satisfied.

Clearly, James had no idea what he was talking about—I was perfectly fine. Or at least, I thought I was, until I stood up.

I felt fifty pounds heavier, and like my gut was lined with stones. I decided to walk it off and go for a stroll on the grounds before meeting James on the pitch. It would take him at least half an hour to go to the Owlery and then to the Quidditch pitch.

It was a little colder than I expected when I walked outside, so I cast a Warming Charm on myself and strode towards the lake. My thoughts started at a Charms essay that was due in two weeks and ended somewhere near Remus.

Little Mr. Know-It-All himself.

Remus was extremely gifted in the art of observation. He was able to piece together that I was a beginner flyer masquerading as a lifelong athlete with the ability to pull off a successful Wronski Defensive Feint.

He also seemed to think that the reason James and Severus had been so civil with each other during Hippogriff was because they both fancied me.

Me.

For one thing, James had always tried to embarrass me by asking me out and professing his love in the most hideous of ways (he once trained Flitwick's toad choir to sing me a Muggle love song—"My Girl," of all things—while he stood grinning like a madman on bended knee), but I don't think I ever took him seriously. I processed such antics as very tasteless pranks.

I don't think I'd ever considered that he was capable of actually having real feelings for me. The thought had honestly never crossed my mind before!

Even when Severus had warned me that James Potter fancied me, I'd rolled my eyes and decisively diffused any further discussion about it. Because James Potter didn't fancy me—not really. He only thought he did, or he was playing the part to annoy me. His shameless flirting was a horror of a running joke between us and anyone else who'd care to listen in; I'd rejected him often enough, and it was easy to fluster me with his ridiculous suggestions.

But I'd made it very clear that under no circumstances was I ever going to go out with him, so really, Severus had nothing to worry about.

Secondly—Severus?!

How could he fancy me when he all but insulted me in the worst way imaginable and chose blood purity ideology and blood purist bullies over our friendship?

Exactly how could he fancy me and believe I was inferior and undeserving of access to the Wizarding World? It just didn't make any sense.

I stared out at the rippling lake waters, thinking about how just a year and a half ago, Severus and I were still friends. The thought cast a dark shadow over the midmorning sunlight. It weighed on me more than my stack of Scotch pancakes.

He'd been my chum, my first proper wizard friend—I thought we would be friends forever. He made magic seem beautiful, like a gift. When Petunia cowered and snapped back with hatred and derision, he held my hand and made sure I knew I wasn't a freak; I was special.

I was a witch.

I'd noticed him in the park in Cokeworth before, but he never spoke to anyone. Mostly, he kept to himself, either reading beneath a tree, or swinging on the lone swing in the corner of the green. I'd always thought he was just shy, though remembering how quickly he opened up to me once he'd discovered my magical abilities, I realized he would have never approached me if he'd thought I were a mere Muggle.

I scoffed, kicking at the ground beneath my boots. "He was always a snob," I muttered to myself, smiling bitterly.

Of course, speak of the basilisk and he shall appear.

At the foot of the forest, strolling pensively on the shores of the Great Lake was Severus Snape.

I watched him as he hiked through the lush grasses and knolls at the edge of the lake, his robes flapping behind him in the unforgiving wind. His dark hair hung loosely about his shoulders in two great curtains around his sallow face. I wondered briefly what he was doing out here, when he looked up and caught my gaze across the water.

He froze for a moment, surprised, perhaps, that I was there, or shocked that I was staring at him at all. He returned my gaze for a few moments, and then he made a beeline for The Tree.

The Tree was an old sycamore tree whose leaves would turn a shocking shade of dark red in autumn that very nearly matched my own hair color. Severus often called it my "distant relative," to which I would respond, "Only by a kingdom," and we would laugh at my Muggle biology joke together.

We would chat there after lunch on the weekends, or meet up during free periods—anytime we could get away from the general inter-House animosity that got in the way of our friendship.

Over time, these meetings became less and less frequent, but The Tree was sacred ground. He wouldn't have walked over to it unless he needed to talk.

I sighed. This was so not what I wanted to do today. I was meant to sleep in and then train with James while I ignored feeling like a balloon. That was all I had mentally prepared to do. I didn't have the energy to spare on anything else.

Despite myself, and every nerve ending in my body telling me to turn right around and avoid this situation entirely, I couldn't ignore The Tree.

He must have known that.

And I was playing right into his selfish hands.

I trudged over to him, keeping my head held high, and my face as impassive as stone. Whatever he wanted to talk about, I knew that we were no longer friends and it wouldn't do either of us any favors for me to be gracious to him. He'd used up all of my grace.

Severus had sat down in his usual spot, and a pang of guilt and nostalgia and pain hit me—we could have still been friends, perhaps, if I'd been a little more forgiving.

But then he set his black eyes on me and all the changes in his face since we'd stopped speaking added up to create a new face, one I'd never looked into before, one I no longer knew.

"Lily," he whispered, and even his voice was different. Where I'd usually found so much warmth and welcoming there was only reserve and distance.

"Severus," I replied. I sat down in my usual spot next to him, against the trunk of the tree, staring out onto the lake. From here, I could see the castle, the Owlery, and the entrance to the Quidditch pitch.

I remembered our pact to meet here whenever Gryffindor played Slytherin. We would laugh at the sport, mock the blind support of the House teams' followers, roll our eyes at the grandiose attitude the athletes took on when they won a match. Now we were playing on opposite teams in a sport ourselves. I grinned wryly at the irony of it all.

"Black is going to try and have you expelled next week," he said.

I whipped my head to look at him. "What?" I responded smartly.

He sighed. I could tell he felt conflicted about sharing this information with me. "She's planning on using the match against you, since it isn't authorized. She's going to have someone blow the whistle on the whole thing, and pin it on you."

I gaped. "She would rather get me kicked out than play fair," I concluded. "Why am I not surprised?"

Severus cleared his throat. "You need to cancel the match, Lily."

My eyes snapped to his. "Is that what this is about?" I asked.

His eyes dropped to the ground. "It's not worth getting expelled over."

"I appreciate your concern, but I think I can figure out what's worth fighting for and what isn't for myself, thanks."

I hadn't meant it as a passive aggressive attack, but that's how it came out, and Severus didn't fail to catch my double meaning.

He nodded in reply and got up. "I'll see you later, then."

"Tell Black her backhanded tricks have no place on the pitch. If she wants to defeat me, it had better be in a game of Hippogriff, as we agreed."

Severus remained silent, flipping the curtain of hair out of his eyes and dusting off his robes. He was off before I could pass along any other messages to his deranged Housemate.

From my place under the The Tree, I watched as an owl left the Owlery. I took that as my cue to make my way to the Quidditch Pitch, where I'd likely meet James on his way back from owling his parents whatever critical message he had for them.

As I sauntered across the grounds, I wondered if I should doubt Severus's story. Why would he warn me of Bellatrix's plans? Why would he willingly betray his own team to give me helpful information?

Was it a trap, masterminded by Bellatrix Black herself, predicated on the shaky grounds of my previous friendship with Sev?

I sucked in a breath and shook my head.

It made more sense that he was playing double agent with me, but on the off-chance that he wasn't, and his information was correct, I should probably prepare for it. Bellatrix was trying to get me expelled.

My fingers were restless and fidgeted with the drawstring at the waist of my robes.

Still, I couldn't wrap my head around his motives. Why would he confess such a valuable plot? Either he was still vying for my friendship, or Remus was right.

Severus could never lie to me—not to my face, not when we were alone, not when we were just the two of us.

He'd never be able to.

He couldn't lie to me because he fancied me.

He didn't respect my heritage, or me, but he still managed to fancy me.

The revelation only put me in a darker mood. Because I, too, had been unable to lie to someone recently.

And I was about to meet him for flying practice.

"If this doesn't kill me, I'm going to murder you when I get down!" I yelled down at James. I was upside-down, hanging onto my broom for dear life.

"You've only managed half a barrel roll!" he yelled back, ignoring my threats. "You have to keep going!"

I squeezed my eyes shut. I was definitely on track to end my life early in some freak flying accident. "This is mad! You wizards are absolutely mad! Always trying to get yourselves killed!"

I heard him sigh. "You're barely two feet off the ground, Lily. Just turn."

Breathing in as much air as I could, I pursed my lips in preparation, and forced myself to roll upright on my broom.

Apart from a bit of a swing, however, I didn't quite manage it.

"Roll back up like you mean it, Lily!" James coached.

I tried again.

And failed again.

"I'm stuck!" I exclaimed. "James, please just get me down."

"Are you giving up on me, Evans?" he asked, his Captain Voice very nearly terrifying me into staying hooked upside-down around my broom forever. But only very nearly.

I was beginning to go cross-eyed. I nodded frantically, attempting to shake some focus back into my gaze. "Yes!"

He groaned. "You're going to have to get the hang of this eventually, you know," he said, placing his hands around my waist and hoisting me upright on my broom.

All the blood rushed from my head due to my sudden change of position. "Pretty sure I've only got the hang of that, Captain," I answered, putting a hand to my dizzy head.

James grimaced at my terrible pun, shaking his head, though I could make out a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Alright, take five, and then you're going to complete a full barrel roll."

I jumped off my broom and threw myself stomach down onto the grass in exhaustion. "I don't even understand the point of a barrel roll," I mumbled, burying my face in my robe's sleeve.

James sat down on the grass next to me, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his hands. "It's an evasion tactic. Bloody useful against an incoming Bludger."

"Seems rather more dangerous than an incoming Bludger, if you ask me," I muttered.

James laughed lightly. "I promise it's worth learning."

I propped my head up on my elbow and took a good look at him. His hair was more tousled than ever with the amount of times he'd run his hands through it. It shifted slightly in the wind, the jet-black curls piled on the top of his head as though perfectly styled by nature itself. He'd closed his eyes against the midday sun, his long eyelashes brushing the tops of his high cheekbones.

His lips tugged into a smile, showing shiny, straight teeth. The smile of an aristocrat, if there ever was one. "Enjoying the view?" he asked, the conceit in his voice mixed with teasing, flirting.

I sighed dramatically. "And here I thought we were finally getting on, Potter," I replied, lacing my tone with the same amount of teasing and flirting as his.

He laughed freely, his whole body rolling with the joy of it, and his eyes opened to reveal glittering hazel orbs beneath fashionable spectacles. He was all sunlight and merriment, mischief and mayhem, wit and nerve.

At that moment, laying in the grass with him, our broomsticks abandoned at our sides, and the impending doom of a highly unorthodox duel with the Slytherin blood purists looming over us, a thought crossed my mind—a thought that would begin to shape the decisions I would soon have to make; a thought that would inform my worldview from here on out:

As long as James Potter was next to me, everything would be okay.

Exhausted from laughing, James collapsed on the ground, his arms behind his head, and a lazy smile on his face. "So have you given any thought to your new terms?"

"Hmm?" I asked, not catching his meaning.

He turned on his side, mirroring me, and propping his head up by an elbow. "The terms of the rematch. You can change your side of the agreement before it starts."

I chewed on my lip. "I'm not sure if I should change anything. I ran into Sev—Snape this morning, and he told me that Black was planning on reporting the whole event to try and get me expelled."

His eyebrows went up in surprise. "Wouldn't she get in trouble as well?"

I shrugged. "Yes, but she isn't Head Girl. I imagine the consequences of an unauthorized game of Hippogriff and a wager would be enough to set the school governors on me. Especially if Nott's father is one of them."

He let out a low whistle. "Then why even bother?" he asked.

I looked him squarely in the eye. "I may be a Muggleborn, but I was raised to always finish what I started."

He grinned a crooked grin. "Even if you're breaking the rules?" he asked, though it might have been rhetorical.

I matched his grin. "Especially if I'm breaking the rules. Otherwise, why even bother?" I said, echoing his earlier words back at him.

"Touché," he replied. "Still, we should be careful. If you're expelled, they win. There's no coming back from that, Lily. And if you're expelled from Hogwarts, you'll have a double stigma—the Muggleborn who was expelled."

"I'd bet those blood purists would love that."

James made a sardonic humming noise in the back of his throat in agreement. We lay there in silence for a few moments, the breeze nipping at our hair lightly.

"James?" I asked after a long while.

"Yeah?" His eyes swiveled to mine.

I didn't break eye contact. "Why are you helping me?"

He looked taken aback, as though not quite sure how to answer. He shrugged. "Because you asked," he answered finally.

"But you dropped everything to help me."

He stared off into the distance.

I wasn't sure what I wanted him to say, but I kept pressing the matter, thinking of Remus, thinking of Severus, searching for some kind of truth. "You've done so much for me, James, and I haven't always been so kind or helpful to you."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You're wondering why this is important to me."

"Yes."

"You want to know what I think is in it for me."

"Of course."

"You want to know if I'm scheming."

"Are you?"

Finally, he faced me. "No."

"Then?"

He sighed. "Alright, full disclosure." He sucked in his cheeks briefly, as if steeling himself for a confession. I held my breath. "Lily, you must know that I've been at odds with Snape and Black for our entire career at Hogwarts, and you must know that it's only been an endless cycle of fights, duels, and near-death incidents."

James waited for me to answer, so I nodded.

"And do you know why?" he asked.

Er. "Because they're Slytherins?" I answered uncertainly.

He leveled me with an incredulous stare. "No. It's because they think I'm a blood-traitor just because I come from a long line of Purebloods and I still don't believe Muggles and Muggleborns are inferior to me and deserve to be wiped out in a bloody genocide."

And they do, was the unspoken implication. Black believed that, and so, it seemed, did Severus. A part of him didn't think people like me should exist.

James continued, "And when I'm not defending myself and those beliefs, I'm spending most of my free time defending Sirius, who through no fault of his own, is related to half of Slytherin House, and has received the worst of the bullying just for being a decent human being. It got worse after his family officially disowned him. They've never made it easy for us, and I don't intend to make it easy for them, either."

He made everything sound so drastic, heavy, definite. Like the war that was brewing outside the castle walls had been fought inside them since James's first year.

I cocked my head to the side. "So you're helping me learn to fly?"

"Yes."

"Because once again, you find yourself in the middle of a moral dispute."

"Yes."

I raised my eyebrows. "So I'm a charity case?"

He rolled his eyes. "You asked me for help, and I'm helping. It's not charity, it's just the right thing to do."

"The right thing to do," I echoed skeptically.

James sat up and out of view. "Does that surprise you?"

"Honestly?" I answered, realizing that nothing surprised me when it came to James Potter anymore. "No."

It used to surprise me when I learned that James Potter wasn't this rash, arrogant, troublemaking person I'd built up in my mind. Or, at least, that wasn't who he was anymore. I had come to terms with the fact that I didn't really know James, and wondered how it was I'd gotten the worst impression of him.

"Right. Now, what are you going to do if Black tries to get you expelled?" he asked, changing the subject.

I sat up as well, just so I could see him. "I don't think it'll work, honestly."

He grinned, shaking his head. "That's optimistic."

"It's too large of a gamble on herself," I reasoned. "The only way to blow the whistle on me is if she risks herself in the process. She's too self-preserving for that."

"Not if she gets immunity."

I snorted. "Oh, are we on trial now?"

"If the school governors get involved, you might not even get a trial," James rejoined.

I threw my hands up. "I don't even know if Sev was telling the truth! How do we know it's not some ploy to get me—us—to forfeit the match?"

"Snape wouldn't lie to you, Lily," he opposed.

"Why are we taking that for granted? That he wouldn't lie to me? He might be bluffing."

It was meant to make him consider my point, help me figure out this whole Severus-fancies-me thing, but apparently James had an answer. He shook his head. "Because even though he tries to hide it by insulting you in class and standing with the other Slytherins when they gang up on you, he knows he fucked up, and he cares enough about you when it matters, and that's why he wouldn't lie to you. Not about something like this."

What in the bloody hell? Was he psychoanalyzing his nemesis?

"James, what are you on about? Are you actually defending him? Severus? The person who's basically been your arch nemesis since literally the first day we met?"

James scoffed. "I've done worse."

"What, did you save him from a vampire?"

James laughed so hard that he couldn't breathe, tears streaming down his face. He held up a hand to signal that he was okay and not dying, as I am prone to jumping to conclusions, and choked out, "Werewolf, actually."

I laughed. "A werewolf? Sure it wasn't a mountain troll?"

"It might have been, yeah," he replied, vague as ever.

I cocked my head at him, clearly curious.

He flashed a brilliant smile at me in response. "I'd tell you, but"—he winked—"Marauder's honor. You understand."

"Oh, right," I responded sarcastically.

"Point is, despite our differences, he's just a bloke, in the end."

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation right now," I blurted out.

Smiling, he pushed himself off the ground to stand over me. He offered me a hand and pulled me up. "I think it's been more than five minutes. Ready to try again?" he asked, handing me my broomstick.

"These barrel rolls are going to kill me," I grumbled, pushing my hair behind my ears.

"Not if the Bludgers beat them to it!" he countered.

We spent the better half of the afternoon training. He got me to fly up in the air and cast the Immobulus Charm on several falling objects, just in case I got it in my head to save someone again. And all I could think was how James Potter was This Whole Other Person Who Wasn't Who I Thought.

Or at least, he was More Than That. Complicated. An Actual Person.

Just a bloke, in the end.

And maybe, he fancied me.

A/N: Any Star Fox fans?