Chapter Three: Press Cuttings

James rolled over with a loud groan the next morning. He kicked off the tangled covers, which he felt were suffocating him. Sunlight streamed in through the open narrow window in the Gryffindor Common room and bathed his bead clothes in an orangey tint.

James strained to sit, but found the pain in his ribs was greater than he had originally anticipated. Why had he had to act like such a hero? And more importantly, why hadn't he swallowed his pride and gone to see Madam Pomfrey the night before? All he had now was a headache and an annoying pain. Well, the answer was, of course, so that Lily saw. But apparently she wasn't impressed.

He heaved himself out of bed and surveyed his fellow roommates. They were all spark out; Sirius was snoring yet again, Wormtail was muttering incoherently, and Lupin, as usual was silent. James wondered for a second if he was OK.

It was full moon tonight, and although they had a fantastic time as animals, he knew that the transformations were painful.

Upon surveying his young face in the mirror, James decided he would leave the gash as it was. If he went to Madam Pomfrey, she would only reduce the bruising, and that would make it less impressive. He wanted something to show for his fight with Snape. After fluffing his hair unnecessarily once more, he left for the Great Hall.

He didn't know what time it was, but he knew it was early because there was only about five or six people in the Great Hall. As he sat down, bacon and kippers appeared on his very plate. James never usually sat alone; it was not the done thing to do, being alone. It certainly wasn't the thing Quidditch captains or popular people did. But, still there were only a few people here to see him.

He dug his fork forcefully into the bacon and ate it in silence. It tasted too salty for him, and so to amuse himself, he glanced inconspicuously around the Hall. There were only two people on the Slytherin table, Nott and Avery. They were large, yet also slightly stupid. James had previously hexed them so badly they were in the hospital wing for two weeks undergoing emergency pimple removal because they had called Sirius a "black haired Blackie". Not the most equatious of insults.

There were only a few stragglers at the Ravenclaw table, no doubt catching up on homework. A girl over at the Hufflepuff table was smiling sweetly at him. He smirked back, almost awkwardly, not wanting to give off the wrong vibe for the hundredth time. Hogwarts girls were so predictable. . . all except one.

No sooner had he thought this, he glanced down the Gryffindor table, and there she was. James's heart gave a squirmful jolt and he slopped some of his pumpkin juice down his robes.

Lily was sitting alone, reading the Daily Prophet, her eyes somewhat red. James couldn't think why; her eyes were always so bright. He made up his decision over a period of five minutes. . .

'Just go over and say something. Like what? How about, Hi Evans! Or, alright, Evans? Or even, hi Lily. . . no, that would make him look like a sensitive loser. Oh, just go over and say what ever you can think of. She can only hate you more than she already does. . . '

One part of his brain was fighting with the other. One part won, and he found himself, against his will, wandering sheepishly over to Lily.

She didn't look up immediately; she seemed engrossed in the paper. Her red hair was obviously unbrushed yet still fell in curls around her shoulders. Her face was screwed up in a frown; her eyebrows knitted together, a look of concentration on her face. James cleared his throat.

Lily spun around, clearly irritated at the interruption. "What?" she snapped.

James did not know what to say. "Well . . . I . . . ah. . ."

She looked faintly amused, obviously enjoying his awkwardness. "You what? Never usually have problems talking to girls."

James blinked. "I'm . . . not having any trouble. Just thought I ought to let. . . let you know. That I'm ok, you know. From yesterday." It was such a stupid thing to say.

"Yesterday.. . .?"

"Well, with old Snivelly, and all that. In case you were wondering."

She snorted. "Well, I wasn't. That may shock you, I know. But your wellbeing isn't at the forefront of my every waking thought."

James was stumped. He was at a loss. "Oh, right." He saw the spare seat next to her, and did something against everything his brain was telling him to do. He sat down.

She looked at him, wearing an expression of mild annoyance and looking at him as though he was a particularly disgusting blast ended skrewt.

"So. . . .er. . . why so early then?" he asked weakly.

She hesitated, looking back at her paper again. "Why do you care?"

"Oh, you know, just interested."

"Well, if you must know, I had an argument with my friends. Not that it's any of your business." Her eyes flashed and went back to the empty plate in front of her.

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear that, Evans. Lily, I mean. . . ."

She didn't look up, but James caught her change of expression at these words.

"So, are you going to tell me what it was about?"

Lily snorted again, but this one was less vicious. "Something Snape said. My friend, Marietta said I should have cursed him."

James immediately went on the offensive. "What did he say?"

She looked him right in the eyes. He felt himself melting under her piercing gaze, as though she was radiating a heat that he was easily penetrated by. He tried not to show it and squinted. Lily sighed.

"He called me something."

"Not. . . not a m . . mud. . . ."

"Yes, that," she said quickly, to stop him from saying it.

James whirled around, as though expecting to see Snape come into the Hall that very second. "He. . . . he what? I'll kill him!"

Lily narrowed her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous! He's a very disturbed person, is Severus Snape. You have to make allowances. I know that must be hard for someone like you, Potter. Someone who preys on the weak and enjoys seeing them suffer."

"Snape's not weak ..." He stopped himself. Probably not a good idea to get into Snape's psyche with Lily Evans.

James looked away. There was a pause whilst both sat in uncomfortable silence. This had seemed like such a good idea at the time. He tried to change the subject.

"So, um. . . .what are you reading?"

Lily didn't answer for a while. James wondered whether he should say it again, but stopped just before he embarrassed himself again.

"Something about Voldemort," she said finally. "He's attacked the Longbottoms. Well, not him exactly … some of his Death Eaters. Looks like they've been kidnapped."

James blinked. He hadn't heard anyone call the evil menace by the real name before. He never had a problem with it. But why this was, he couldn't say.

"That sounds bad. I'd guess, we should all be careful, then, eh?"

Lily frowned again, as though trying to work out whether he was being serious or whether he was taking the mickey out of her. He attempted a weak, pathetic smile, which did not reach his hazel eyes.

"I'm going to catch up on Transfiguration," she said and got up abruptly.

He stood up too, unnecessarily messing his hair once more. Lily rolled her eyes subtly. Boys could be such armpits sometimes. "Do you, er. . . need any help?"

Lily frowned. "No, thank you, Potter, I think I can find my way to the classroom all by myself. I have after all been here for five years."

She left James feeling hollow and empty. At least she had not yelled at him, or even hexd him; it was some source of progress. He looked down and read the article she had left in his hurry. What he read made him uneasy. He didn't know why; Voldemort would never have any reason to come after him after all.

To take his mind off the feeling Lily had left him in, he decided to plan the adventure he and his Marauding friends would have that very night.