A/N: This is somewhat based on Pride and Prejudice…some elements are, but not everything. Just making that clear. And don't worry, an actual plot will surface soon!
Hey, Moony.
Bonjour, Prongs.
History of Magic is so. Bloody. Boring.
Prongs, you're Head Boy. You're supposed to pay attention is class so you can keep that position, remember?
Bah humbug. Why aren't you Head Boy?
Because he smells bad.
Thanks, Wormtail. Well, the fact that I'm a snarling werewolf three nights out the month might have a bit to do with it.
Right.
Illicit notes in History of Magic class? I am ashamed and appalled, Prongsie!
Shut up, Padfoot.
Place nicely, guys.
Shut up, Wormtail.
Oh honestly, I'll just write so this won't erupt into a bloody argument! So…did you ask Lily to Hogsmeade next weekend?
Yeah. The wench took it all the wrong way though. Rejected me, then acted sad about it. I bet she laughed all the way to her stupid cronies. Not including you, Remus. Have I mentioned how happy I am that I'm over her?
Right. How are things with that Hufflepuff, what's-her-face...Alyssa?
Broke up with her yesterday. I'm going to Hogsmeade with another girl. One whom I rather like, actually. Priscilla Goldstein.
She looks like a duck. Her lips do, I mean.
Moony, you should know this… all people have flaws. She's... nice, though. And she laughs at my jokes and thinks my hair looks cool when it's ruffled. Lily hates her, which is a nice change.
You're just going out with her to annoy Lily.
Shut up, Moony.
Oh, come on… aren't you still attracted to her, at least?
She's… tolerable, but not desirable enough to tempt me anymore.
Whoa.
Harsh.
I agree with those two. You were in love with her just last week—what happened?
I moved on, Moony. And I'm glad that I did.
I found this parchment just the other day. They left it on their desk, and since I stayed after class to talk to Professor Binns, I couldn't resist taking a peek. I really am too curious for my own good.
And right now, I am on the brink of crying, because in James Potter's eyes, I am tolerable.
This is so bloody stupid. I'm acting like one of his girlfriends of the week! I shouldn't cry… I won't cry. Remus is over there. I can talk to him, and I'll be fine. He's my friend. He will surely take my mind off this. I sit next to him on the couch and begin to talk.
"Remus," I sigh, "how is it that you are friends with that troll?"
He looks over to where James and Sirius are eating those Bertie Botts beans that makes you emit animal noises. James is a monkey (how fitting!), swinging his arms around and acting like a general buffoon. Sirius is a dog, which James (and Remus too, for some odd reason) finds incredibly amusing. Around them is an army of people, mostly girls, shrilly laughing and pointing at their antics.
A small part of me desires to be a member of the crowd.
"He's not all bad, Lily. He's just--hmm, how do I put this—complicated. Penchant for trouble, but he has his heart," Remus looks pointedly at me, "in the right place."
"Mmm," is all I say, as I chew on the end of my quill and think. Should I tell Remus about my infatuation? He would help, I'm sure; he cares deeply for me, I know. But he's also one of James's best friends. It would just be—in his words—too complicated.
"Knut for your thoughts?" he asks.
"I think I will go to Hogsmeade this weekend," I say thoughtfully.
Remus sputtered. "What? You haven't been since, well…"
"Yeah. I know. But I have—I have some business. That I need to attend. You don't mind if I go with you, do you?"
"No! Never! Of course, you will have to suffer through James, Sirius, and Peter."
I wipe an invisible tear from my face. "I think I'll survive."
He chuckles. I grab his hand and quietly question him.
"Remus, how is your, well… aunt?"
'Visiting his aunt' is code for the next full moon. I figured out that he was a werewolf back in fourth year. I haven't told a soul since. It was terribly sad: at the time, he expected me to stop being friends with him! How could I? There was nothing wrong with being slightly hairier for three days a month. After all, I'm not very pleasant for three days monthly either.
"I'm… erm, well, visiting her next week. I—she is feeling fine, for now," he says with a smile. "Thanks for asking."
I smile at him. Poor thing. I sometimes wonder what would happen if James and company found out. I think that they do know—they must know, because they've been friends for seven years. If this is true, they must be supportive of him, then. I look at James, who is currently rolling on the floor, laughing hysterically.
Maybe there is reason to my madness.
I am waiting outside the Potions classroom with my fellow Gryffindors. Unfortunately, we have to take this course with Slytherins. There is one in particular who can't stand me: Severus Snape. Since that stupid incident in fifth year, when I defended him, he has been absolutely horrible to me. To make matters worse, James and his friends try to act as knights in shining armor, which eggs him and themselves on. It's a vicious cycle.
"Mudblood…still taking NEWT-level classes? Pity."
I bristle. It is true; I am the only Muggle-born taking advanced classes. Not that the other Muggle-borns aren't capable; they are simply bullied beyond belief. I am the only one brave enough, really.
Honestly, he is just sour because I make better marks than him. I figure the best approach to annoying him the most is killing him with kindness.
"Why, Severus, do you need tutoring?"
Oops. My head doesn't quite connect to my mouth at times.
While I hear the distinct snickering of Sirius, James, and Peter (Remus's mouth is dangerously twitching), Snape starts to point his wand at me. My eyes widen—this isn't an everyday circumstance—when suddenly, James throws himself in front of me.
"Don't you dare touch her!"
My heart flutters, and Snape's lip curls. It feels as if it grew wings and is aching desperately to burst out of my chest. And then I remember—wait a second, I am an independent woman! I don't need someone protecting me; I could have handled him myself!
I shove James aside, preparing to berate him, when I really think about it: what he did was really nice... foolish, but nice. Besides, I'm trying to befriend him, not push him away further. A rare event—I am trying to be civil to James Potter.
"James… thank you. I mean, I could have taken care of it myself, thank you very much, but what you did was very, erm, chivalrous. Thanks."
I just did something that went against all of my feminist morals. Oh well, the grin that he is giving me now is worth it. Almost.
"Touching, Mudblood. Just be careful with Potter. Don't know where he has… been, do we?"
James starts to walk over, when I place my hand on his chest and slightly push him back. I look up at his face.
"Don't, James. He's not worth it."
His mouth is in a straight line, but he nods, slowly. Our Potions professor has finally arrived.
"Now, now… move away, let me through to the door!"
Professor Buckles is a kindly old woman, like someone who would be an ideal grandmother. She has a major flaw, though—she procrastinates more than her own students.
As she pushes through the masses, she says, "Sorry, I haven't marked the parchments from last week yet. Expect it…well, how about by the end of the term?"
"What about the ones from two months ago?" someone yells.
She waves her hand dismissively. "No, no, you'll get those soon enough. Oh dear… where did I put my keys?"
As she fumbles through her briefcase, James speaks to me.
"I'll, erm, talk to you after class, okay?"
I nod, and we smile at each other. The door is finally open, but we don't go in it yet. Snape shoves past us, pushing me hard against a wall. I hear Pandora Parkinson whisper, "Isn't he with Priscilla Goldstein?" But it's odd—I find myself not caring about all that. Reason to my madness, indeed.
