AN Yess! Another chapter (which means that something somewhere is getting the slack end of the deal. No word yet whether it is homework or social life...the safe bet would be both!) and only one day later. It probably means that I am not going to update during the week, but I will try my bestest. A big thanks to all who are reading; Thank You.

This chapter is told from James' perspective, and unfortunately, the title has nothing to do with the content.

Please enjoy!

Chapter 5 - Revealing Words of a Poet

Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up! James groaned and let his head fall onto his chest. Sirius, always the one to complain about early mornings, had actually planned a prank that involved an early rise. That was why, three hours later, James sat at the Gryffindor table, almost sleeping in his plate, his conscience ordering him to keep his eyes open, body failing to comply. A fifteen minute nap would be so welcoming right now…

"Oww!" He snapped at the person who had punched his outstretched hand. Nursing it like a child, he struggled to open his eyes, spotted the culprit, and glared at him.

"Your girlfriend's here. Just thought you might like to know," stated the other matter-of-factly. It bothered James to know that Sirius could entertain the notion of enjoying the sight of his friend being unable to greet his girlfriend with a display of affection, such as a hug, as there would be none of that today. Today, he had promised himself to keep his distance and wait for her to cool off. He had messed up bad last night, at least, bad enough to get her to storm out of the common room, something she hadn't done for over six months.

Slurping from his left caught his attention. Scratch that. The slurping noises got on his nerves. He didn't really need to turn his head to see the one responsible for such an annoyance. Who else but Pete ate porridge every morning? Just as James was about to open his mouth to tell him off about the slurping, he saw something sliding off his mate's lips and back into his bowl. This, of course, horrified him. Eww was the best term used to describe what he felt. It was like eating something, spiting it out and putting it back in your mouth. James watched in revulsion as his friend's spoon found its way to a spot close enough to where the drop had landed, scooped up a spoonful of the grey and clumpy material, and stuffed it into his mouth.

"You're gross, you know that, don't you?" Sirius grumbled. James sighed with relief. Sirius had voiced his exact thoughts which did two things for James. First off, it embarrassed Peter, who then took on a more careful way of eating, and two, it meant that James and Sirius were just like always: They were on the same level.

Someone sat down beside him. Two sniffs in the air and James couldn't help but guess who it was. She smelt…wait! If she had sat down next to him, that could only mean one thing: She wanted to talk to him! Or no, maybe there just was no room left on the far side of the table. Whatever the cause, James was comforted by the fact that all seemed as it should. He was sitting at a table with his best mates, Lily by his side.

Picking up his glass of milk (which he had promised his mother to drink every morning for his entire stay at Hogwarts), the boy mumbled something along the lines of, "Can I talk to you?"

"Why wouldn't you be able to?" she asked with a somewhat pitchy voice. He turned his head up to look at her face. There had to be a trace of something…

"I…err, I…I mean, well-" he was mumbling like a bumbling buffoon, all because of his inability to admit, out loud anyway, that he had cheesed her off.

"Look, Potter, it takes a lot more than your ignorance to make me mad at you. I can't possibly stop talking to you simply because you don't see things the way I do. That would be so…I don't know, something some evil wizard would do." His stomach smiled. His face smiled. His stomach growled. His mouth opened and his hand fed him a burnt toast.

"Told you so," whispered Remus from across him. James nodded his head, bobbing it up and down along with the rhythm of his bottom jaw chewing his food. He liked burnt toast. He liked Lily. He liked Remus being mock-pretentious. He liked the grin on Sirius' face. He liked that Peter had stopped being disgusting. He liked that he had woken up early because, had it gone any other way, this, right now, would not be happening.

IIIIIII

"So I'll come get you at nine again?" he asked, stopping her in front of the library. She nodded, tried to say 'yeah' but the result was only the motion of her mouth. "Alright then, I'll see you later, then," he took the book back from his shoulder and handed it to her, kissed her on the forehead and made towards the corridor.

"James!" He turned without a moment's hesitation. "I – we…we need to talk about something, alright?"

"Sure."

"Good. Be here at nine."

Another two weeks had passed since James and Sirius had reconciled. It was almost Halloween, and that had the entire school (except the seventh years) up in bubbles. The professors were being brutal, almost inhuman. Their constant negligence of the fact that these young adults may actually like a rest or two between fourteen-foot essays, heavy projects, and Head's duties convinced the Marauders that the seventh year professors were actually a bit loco. It was almost as though they got a sick pleasure out of watching the ones stuck between adolescence and adulthood lose their heads, their sense of self, and the movement in their hands (whichever they wrote with). It frightened him, really, to see how much of a leap there was between sixth and seventh year. It scared him to ponder what things would be like in post-Hogwarts education. Whoever went into specified programs were most likely suffering from a lapse in judgement for whom in their right minds would go begging for more after having endured this?

Remus probably would. He didn't really know where that thought came from, but he knew it was his own. No, Remus wouldn't, he'd be too scared that anyone would find out. And that's where it dawned on him. Perhaps Remus would enjoy torturing himself with more work, but won't because of his…hairy, fluffy, not overly-friendly condition. It was unfortunate, James thought, that someone with such potential could impede themselves on the account of someone discovering something. And then James reminded himself of how he would feel if Sirius or Remus were to find out about Gwendolyn's fits, and it made him realise that there were some secrets he would lay down his life for, much like Remus was doing. These secrets were only meant to be shared between certain people, people you not only trusted, but people who you meant something to. He realised that this had been the root of his discomfort when Lily had found out, as, at that time, Lily had not been especially close to him, nor he to her.

James' footsteps echoed in the corridor as he made his rounds, once again, alone. The fifth year Slytherin who was supposed to accompany him was presently sitting in the hospital wing, down with something like the shivers. Not that it bothered him to walk around the castle alone, but rather, he had become quite interested in what the kid had to say and actually missed their very devious conversations. Not all Slytherins were evil, James had granted Lily this a few weeks prior, but they all had a knack for it, they all knew what it meant to be sly and, as far as James was concerned, they all knew how to play the hypocrite. Now, usually, those aren't very attractive traits one looks for in a friend, but in James' case, it had intrigued him. Old Slytherin must have been a cunning man, indeed, to want such traits in his house. Yet, if applied to certain areas of life, say, jokes or pranks, there was no doubt in his mind that the Slytherins would excel.

James let his hand rub the back of his head, come around to the front of his face, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. His thoughts drifted again, this time, to his mother. He remembered what Peter had said to her on the platform at the beginning of September and realised that, yes, her hair was so white it looked purple, and it made him laugh. He reached inside his robes, settled down on the bottom step of the staircase he had walked by twice that night, and unfolded the crinkled parchment he had received just this morning. It had come in a wide envelope, thick, and he had laughed as the tidy ancient script read: 'To: My Fanclub, Hogwarts Great Hall, somewhere in front of James Potter.' The envelope had contained six letters, one for him, Sirius, Pete and Remus, one for Lily, and one for Dumbledore. He was never allowed to peek inside Dumbledore's letter, although he would have just for the sake of knowing whether or not they talked about his father at all even after his death.

'My Dearest Son,

I write to you today from the kitchen table. Rhett is presently tapping the table and, I must admit, no matter how much it irritates me, I will not resort to anger.

How have you been? Are the professors still as cruel as they were when I was at school? If I remember correctly, you should be drowning in homework, although I can scarcely imagine you putting up with any trouble of going through the pile and finishing it. It's too bad, really, that someone with such potential would do so little to let it flourish and become reality. But what can I expect from a seventeen year old boy? At least, I am sure you are keeping yourself busy. In the first week, I received two letters detailing your and your friends' clever pranks. (How much you remind me of your father, you will never know. I wish he were here to tell you all of the horrors he subjected our school to. You would laugh, and possibly learn a few things too.) At least I know you are learning the spells and potions right, as there is no way you would be able to pull any of it off without a slight understanding of the theory at work, am I not right?

You know James, one of the days that had kept you, for whatever reason, from tending to your guest, I had a private little chat with your friend. She does not wish me to disclose any specifics, and it kills me to laugh at my own private joke without anyone to laugh with, but, I must confess, that she is quite the little charmer. Her parents must have let her off with a fair share of deviousness, as she not only reminds me a bit of you, but she also reminds me of a friend I had in my late sixties. Now this woman, you should have known! She was…'

James sighed, looked at his watch, then, noticing the time, skipped to the bottom of the letter.

'and I know that one day you will come to understand, just as I did, that the little lessons learned in life are not separate entities, but rather collectively make up who we are, what we are, and why we are. Our being, our existence is a direct product of nature, nurture, surroundings and events. I have lived in this world more than twenty times your age, James, and although I've learned much in the process, I realise only now that it is fruitless for me to try to force feed you the lessons I've learned. I have to convince myself that my role is to sit back in my rocking chair and watch you, as I did this summer, as I did the summer your father died. My being here is not only…'

James looked up at his watch again, and pushed his glasses up his nose once more. He didn't like to read that part, especially the next few lines, so he skipped, again, to the very end.

'I love you with all my heart, James, and even though I know what is about to happen (I was young once and full of confidence, full of hopes for the future of me and my loved ones), I know that you are fully aware on where your mother is and how to get in touch with her.

I cannot wait to see you for Christmas. Please, do invite Sirius over, as well as Remus and Peter for at least a few days. As for Lily, she already knows I want her to spend Christmas with us. How about you?

Try to keep yourself out of trouble,

Love,

Mum'

What did she mean by "I know what is about to happen?" What is about to happen? Surely, no he couldn't even entertain the thought of his mother speaking of her death. Besides, it made no sense, wouldn't fit in with the rest of the surrounding phrases. So what had she meant?

At nine o'clock, James turned the final corner towards the library and happened upon Lily. She looked as though she was very awake which was most peculiar as Lily never looked fully alert after studying in the quiet sometimes dim library.

"Finally!" she exclaimed, working her hand inside his own. He reached over (like any gentleman would) and took her book bag from her insisting she should not be burdened by books she had just spent three hours with.

He let her lead him up some stairs, down some stairs. They stopped off at the Gryffindor tower, whence Lily stepped inside briefly to put away her books. She came out with a shawl around her shoulders and took James' hand again. He was glad that they had been appointed late night duties tonight for he was almost sure that, had it gone any other way, he and she would not be alone together.

The silent fifteen minutes that first passed by were comfortable, but the twentieth and twenty third minute became more of a discomfort for the already insecure young man. Looking back, James had noticed a change in his confidence in his relationship with Lily, noticed that he had become much more assertive and positive rather than meek and suspecting. Yet, however long it took him to attain that level of almost-certainty, all his efforts had withered away when she had marched up the stairs towards her dormitory without saying a proper goodnight. That, James figured, was an indication that whatever he thought he had attained had only come about on a superficial level, and that, deep down, he still hadn't a clue how to handle himself around her. His palms still got sweaty at times, and he still felt uneasy if she would tear up. The best example of this had happened a few weeks ago when Lily and James had spent the day alone due to it being the anniversary of her father's death. She had cried a few tears then, reminiscing about the past, telling James how she missed her father so. He had been unable to respond. It would have been inappropriate for him to shift attention to his own family by saying something like, "I know. I miss my father terribly." But it had also been expected of him to say something, or at least do something to comfort her. As his arm grew tired from rubbing her back, James had realised that he was still naïve and utterly useless as it applied to young women.

"So," James said calmly, burying away his restlessness. "You said that you wanted to talk?"

"I did."

"Well?" How very un-Lily-like to not come straight out and say it. Would have actually have to siphon it from her? Taking her silence as a yes to his own suspicions, James cleared his throat. "Should I guess what it's all about, or…will you tell me?"

She shrugged. "Do you want to guess it?"

He rolled his eyes behind his closed eyelids. Patience, patience. Be patient with her. She's obviously about to reveal to us something important, like a divorce or something.

Wait, a divorce? They weren't even married yet! Still, an official separation or 'break' (as some preferred to label it) would be quite testing on his ability to keep himself composed. He knew that if ever he were to hear words remotely like, "We need to break up," his glasses would be crushed between the ground and his foot.

"That night?"

She smiled at him. "Sort of."

"Sort of…" he made as if chewing her words, ingesting each measure of them and calculating precisely what she was hinting at. "How does it relate to last night?"

"I don't know, just something."

It was nine thirty, James had been up since early this morning, he had an exam in three day's time and a twelve-foot paper due on the devastating effect of using the anticlockwise stir rather than the clockwise stir during the creation of the potion that cured people from mandrake bites. He was tired, worried about his mum, anxious, petrified of what his girlfriend wanted to speak to him about, and he really didn't feel up to playing the game Lily had obviously set her mind on playing. His chest felt like it was being pressed down on him from all sides.

He stopped, turned to her, place his hands on either of her shoulders and dipped his head low so their eyes were even. "Lily, I really like you, a lot, and…" if you don't come out and say it, I'm going to blow my own head off with a spontaneous internal explosion! "And whatever is on your mind, you have nothing to be shy about. I think that we aren't kids anymore, and that we can pretty much handle anything together, right? Even if," and this is where he had to choke back this ungodly sense of panic, "if we have to split up."

"Split up?" Her face was white as rain. "James, who said anything – is that what you think? That I …oh, I get it." Her eyes meandered to a spot behind his head. "You have three minutes to head back towards your own common room!" James turned and saw two Hufflepuff fifth years standing with eyes big as bullfrogs. When they left, Lily laughed and James realised he had let his hands drop away from her.

"I don't want to break up with you, James." Good. She wrapped her arm about his, much like that time they had walked together last summer. "It's just that…it's a bit difficult for me to say. I can't really find – I don't know how to say it."

"Say it like you are saying it in your own head." He smiled at her from the corner of his lips.

She inhaled deeply. "Okay," she uttered after a few steps forward, "okay," she mumbled immediately afterwards. "So I don't think you've ever asked about it, but I often asked myself about it and I never really knew what the actual answer was until sometime that night.

"You remember how I ended up going to your house, right? That your mother overheard Petunia and felt bad for me?" He nodded, silent yet dedicating his full attention to her. "Well, I didn't really need to accompany you two. I mean, yes, perhaps for a day or two, but your mother gave me the option to owl my friends to see if perhaps I'd be able to stay the summer there."

"You refused?" he scarcely could keep his chest from swelling with pride.

"No. I sent out a letter to three of my friends. I told them that I was somehow stuck at your house and that they had nothing to worry about. They owled back saying how much pity they felt for me, and I lied to your mom and told her that they couldn't take me in.

"I didn't know why I did that! I didn't like you at the time, I actually found you quite the weirdo, what with you being locked up in your room for about four days straight! So why stay? And that's been bothering me ever since. But I figured it out! I figured out that the reason why I didn't want to stay was because you were depressed, and I felt depressed, so I figured, what's the point of going to my friend's house? She'll probably just try to make me smile when really all I want to do is sulk around like you were doing." And how proud it made him feel that she had termed his behaviour as sulking. Still, he smiled privately at the truth of the label. Sitting down on the cold staircase (the same one he had occupied many-a-minutes before), James rested his elbows on his knees and stared straight ahead. Lily sat beside him, he felt her leg against his, and she turned towards him. He turned his head to look at her and wiggled his eyebrows. She pinched his arm.

"Ow!"

"'Deserved it!"

"I know, but still, ow!" He rubbed his arm even though it hadn't hurt. Somehow, the atmosphere had gone from serious to joking to comfortable again.

"So then, as we both know, we started talking and I actually started to like you. Actually, I probably liked you before the week was through, but I didn't know it. Anyway, your mother, at one point or another, started to tell me about how she found you changed when you came home from school. She explained that you were slightly more responsible, yet still childish. That got me thinking that you acted one way at school and completely differently at home. 'That about right, Potter?" He nodded, eyes now fixed on her black shoes. "That's what I wanted from your home – I wanted to be able to leave my school personality behind and become this really dark almost suicidal person, but not really suicidal. But, you know the type? Poetic and always sombre…those kinds that you often worry about?" Again, he bobbed his head up and down.

"You didn't become that way, though. At least not around me you didn't," he remarked.

She smiled. "Exactly! I started being super, I guess, light and friendly and…ugh! I developed a whole new personality, but only when I was around you, or when I knew you were near. I didn't really notice until I left your house, though. I only realised it when your mother scolded me in a letter. I was so mad at her! She said I was writing like a prude. She also wrote she'd hit me with a wooden spoon if I didn't straighten out." James laughed knowing all too well the truth that lay behind that seemingly comical threat.

"So you were almost schizophrenic?"

"No! I just didn't think that my "James-personality" really meshed well with my "Friend-personality" so I just adapted to whoever I was with. And then school started, and because we are often together, I took on the "James-personality"."

"Why not the "Friend-personality"?"

"Because, I think…I think it's because I'd rather have them snub me out for acting weird than you. I could handle them being mad at me and confronting me about it, but I didn't think I'd be able to stand you looking all confused."

"Hmm." Hmm! More like WOAH! He couldn't believe she had straight out admitted that his opinion of her took precedence over the opinion of her friends. This was something huge, monumental, and you can rest assured that James quickly scribbled a mental note claiming today was the day James' self confidence got boosted. Try as he might to act cool on the exterior, his stomach growled, not of hunger, but of sheer glee!

"That's all you have to say?" she asked in disbelief. James immediately felt bad for having acted so coolly towards her. She had, after all, revealed something of great depth just now.

"No. I have to say that…well, hold on. I can't think of what to-"

"Just say it like it's going on in your head," she directed in much the same tone he had used a while earlier.

He grinned. "Like a bubble of gas just erupted in my chest and it's puffing out more and more and…Lily," he turned his torso quickly followed by his legs, towards the young lady beside him. "Sometimes you act cold towards me, and I accept it because you are you, and I know that with all the things that are going on in your head and heart with your family and everything, I know that I shouldn't expect of you to sit there and ponder the meaning of our relationship. But I have and each time I think about it, it's like a whirlpool, it's like I can't get my head out of it, so I'm stuck, head under the water, and I'll be a fool's brain if I can't breathe that water! Even if I was to struggle, it'd be useless, because I've become so attached to this, to you and me…basically us, and I guess, I don't really allow myself to believe that you'd think or feel the same way." He clenched his fists, loosened them, clenched them again, and rubbed the back of his head.

"I'm just as over my head in it as you are, James. I just play it off a wee bit better than you do."

He sighed. "I sometimes wish you wouldn't."

It was her turn to sigh. After a few moments, she took another breath and…sighed again. "I'll makesurenottodoit anymore." He was barely able to make out the words she had blurted so fast.

"Take your time, Lily. I'm not into rushing things between us, you should know that."

"Thank you."

Walking back towards the tower, James held on to Lily's had with a much firmer grip than he had before.

Just as he was about to kiss her on the forehead to bid her a good night, Lily wrapped her hands about his crane, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the forehead. "Goodnight James," she hummed/whispered.

He lowered himself again to meet her eyes and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "You too."