Alright, I had to deal with being Head Boy, working with Evans, focusing on my exams and worrying about my parents. In the first three weeks, I would have given my right leg to get rid of one of those worries. But not in the way that it happened. Now? Now I would give my right leg to be able to go back, speak to Evans, sort it out and write a letter to Mum and Dad telling them to stay home, not to go out and fight. Remus calmed me down every time my temper snapped. Sirius was useless, he just cracked jokes at my expense and offered the relief of pummeling Snivelus, Peter giggled and the girls were too busy playing with their hair or… whatever. Evans was always alone. Every now and then I spotted her with eyes that clearly spoke of an entire night in silent tears. It raised a few doubts. I couldn't get the image of her sitting in shock in that compartment out of my head. Or of the wide eyed terror and the disbelieving shake of her head… the way the information she had gathered… it didn't seem right. But still… it was in her handwriting. In her trunk. She'd done it. Clearly.

In the first month of school, Evans, Dumbledore and I were sitting in Dumbledore's office, Evans and I in deep, squishy armchairs, carefully not looking at each other. I prodded the armrest absent mindedly and listened to the pfffft as it re-inflated to the size of a small watermelon. I watched it a few times before looking up to find Dumbledore watching it with me. I blinked and he smiled at me.

'I supposed that if it took your full attention then it must be worth watching. Does it do anything else?'

'No sir.'

'Is it still intriguing?'

'I'll have to say yes, sir.'

'Carry on then.'

I returned to my poking of the armchair, ignoring the raised eyebrows. The voices were floating over my head as I stubbornly kept my head lowered. I guess you could say I was suffering from male PMS. I was just in a bad mood, ok? Sirius had decided to prank me again and I'd spent the good part of the morning studying my books, looking for a spell to rid myself of the bright pink fluffy ears adorning my head.

Remus told me it flattered my complexion, but I didn't agree. Bloody Padfoot.

It was the library that Evans found me in, head d ears bent over a huge leather bound book. She had smirked and raised an eyebrow.

'What happened to your head?'

I had just glared up at her.

'Umm… ok…'

Glare.

'Well, anyway, Dumbledore wants to see us at four thirty this evening.'

Glare.

'Something about and meeting and would you stop looking at me like that?'

Glare.

'Ok, fine,' she sighed, turning around and heading out of the library. I glared. And I almost blinked when she turned back, waved her wand and muttered something before turning on her heel and marching out of sight.

I had glared. You know, because I'm so mature and all.

When I was sure she was gone, I had patted my head to find just the normal pair of human ears attached to my head. I frowned. Why the hell was she being… normal?

So here I was, sitting and sulking over the fact that Lily had once again hauled my ass out of an embarrassing situation and bored out of my brain. Don't get me wrong, I had matured, but apparently I could sulk spectacularly. I indulged. But it was the word 'dance' that snapped me out of it.

'What?' I yelped, sitting bolt upright.

Lily and Albus Dumbledore both turned their heads to look at me, Lily wearing an expression of impatience and Dumbledore a look of amusement, as though he had known exactly what I was thinking.

I shivered as I realized he probably had.

With the clipped tone soft someone who'd rather be pummeling the other person (namely me) with their bear fists, Lily explained that she had come up with a plan for a ball for fifth, sixth and seventh years.

I said no.

'Pardon?'

'You're excused,' I answered automatically, catching the glint in Dumbledore's periwinkle blue eye as I said it. 'I said no, no ball.'

'Yes ball.'

'No ball!'

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and just that movement emanated such power that Lily and I shut our traps. He surveyed the both of us over his glasses.

'James, can you give me a few reasons as to why we should reject this idea.'

'Because it's a stupid idea!'

'Any mature objections?'

I felt a thump beneath my ribs as I realized he was unimpressed with me. I straightened my back and lifted my head, reminding myself that I was Head Boy and a seventh year. I had more dignity than this. I struggled for an excuse but they all evaded me. Eventually, I had to answer. 'No, sir, I can't think of any…'

Dumbledore gazed at me, staring at me so hard it felt like he was scanning my mind. Finally, he turned to look at Lily. 'Arguments for?'

She ticked them off on her fingers. 'A night off, creating good relations, a chance to behave like adults, learning to dance, learning etiquette, the opportunity to show off…' The list went on… and on… I was drowning in reasons for and I could not find one reason against. Apart from the fact that I'd have to find someone to go with.

Dumbledore nodded, looked at me, then back at Evans. Nodded again. 'Lily makes a good point, James. A few good points, actually. We shall have this ball on Christmas Eve, like we used to have with the Triwizard Tournament. I'll leave you two to design and organize the proceedings, not to mention informing the general population of it. I suggest you spread the word as soon as you can, the ladies will want to spend a fair bit of time… preparing.' He winked and leaned back in his seat. 'Now, you both have some study to do, so chop chop.'

Evans and I stood and headed for the door. 'Mr Pottter, a word, if I may.'

The voice was laced with tension and Lily, after a glance over her shoulder and a raised eyebrow, disappeared outside the door. Dumbledore was on his feet, fixing me with his piercing blue stare.

'I chose you to be Head Boy for a reason, Mr Potter.' It seems the use of my first name was too gentle. The sound of my surname coming from him felt way too much like a knife in the belly. 'I had hoped you'd be a little more mature about this. I know that you and Miss Evans have had your disagreements in the past and, believe me, I know what has been happening lately. Let me just inform you that Miss Evans is a lot more innocent than she seems to be. There is more to what you and your friends discovered last year than you can imagine. You should give your friends the benefit of the doubt. Especially one such as Lily Evans.'

The entire time he spoke, my feet were rooted to the floor. He nodded and turned away and, with a heavy heart, I slipped from the room.

He had to be wrong. But, then again…