Author's Note: Not many reviews for the last chapter. Go on, make my day; review me.
I was right; reading one's thoughts back to oneself in retrospect is quite amusing. Though the prevelance of sarcastic thoughts is worrying me slightly.
The weather is irrelevant today, since I am to be spending most of the day in NEWT classes in preparations for the exams. Flitwick seems to think that the most appropriate way to prepare us for our Charms NEWT is to keep us locked in a classroom all morning until we impress him, and McGonagall has obviously been talking to him in the staff room because she has a similar idea planned for our afternoon, or so I hear.
Oh really, I can't wait.
At least I'll have my diary with me to keep me sane. Sort of.
Sort of sane, that is, not sort of with me. Obviously.
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OK, so here we are at Charms. Quill is writing in my bag, hopefully. Yes, there we go, I've checked. Still never gets old seeing what you're thinking racing across the page.
Flitwick has paired us all up for our practicing of illusory charms. I'm with Ellie Dowt; nice girl, but very quiet. She's a Ravenclaw, so obviously is plenty good enough at this already not to need the practice. And, unlike me, she's obviously been doing some revision. I'm trying not to be, but I can't help it: I'm jealous.
"Lily?" Must really learn to snap out of reveries when I'm supposed to be working. It doesn't help improve your NEWT marks.
"Yes, El?" Bless her, she looks nervous.
"I was wondering... If you don't mind, and if you've got some time, maybe you could, um, you know, check me on some of my transfiguration work? Because I know that you're the best in class and I really don't want to be asking McGonagall because to be honest, well, she scares me. A lot."
She thinks I'm the best in the class? Now let's be fair here; I'm not. And it makes me ache just to even think it, but I know who is the best and it's not Ellie either. It's James head-larger-than-Hogwarts-itself Potter. So obviously, I'm going to avoid admitting the fact that in Transfiguration, he is better than me. And so, probably, is Sirius. What depressing thoughts.
Still, it's sweet of Ellie to ask.
"I can try, but I can't promise anything El." And now she looks so pleased, and I feel rather guilty. Maybe if I did a little more work, I'd feel less so.
"Chamaeleo!" So much for an illusory charm; I'm supposed to be camouflaging the table and instead I've turned it purple. People are staring, and Ellie is looking at me like I'm coming down with something life-threatening. I'm not even going to look at Flitwick. I'm not sure I can handle such shame.
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Well, Flitwick seemed to think that I was ailing for something. Apparently it's not like his "best pupil" (his words) to make such a mistake, so he's sent me to the Hospital Wing. I wish people would stop obsessing over this whole 'top of the class' nonsense, because it's really going to give me a complex. And if there's one thing I don't need write now, it's extra stress.
So now, I'm sitting in the Hospital Wing, stressing over what McGonagall will say if I don't turn up for her afternoon class.
Extra stress.
I really, really don't need this.
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Ten minutes until I'm supposed to be up at McGonagall's, and I don't think I could make it on time even if I ran. And still no sign of Madam Pomfrey, which is typical. When you don't want her around, she's always buzzing by your shoulder, but when you do, she's nowhere to be seen.
How irritating.
Wait a minute - door. Quill and book hidden in bag.
Oh, things can only get better. It's not Madam Pomfrey; it's James.
"Hey Evans. What're you doing lieing down in here? You know that McGonagall won't be happy if you miss her lesson." Thank you, Captain Obvious.
"Yes, thank you for pointing that out so succinctly. Unfortunately, I can't go until I'm discharged." And yes, I know I'm pouting, but really, I hate being late. So very, very much.
"Ah, that's where dashing, handsome seventh years like myself come in handy. I met her outside, she says you can go." I'm sorry, but where James is concerned, I can't help but be suspicious. And, interestingly, it seems like he can tell. "Come on, Lily, I wouldn't get you into trouble. She's in her office if you want to check."
Did he just call me Lily? You know, I think he did, and I don't even want to think about the effect that is having on my heart-rate.
"Um, ok." I'm still checking her office though. No matter how sincere he sounds, he's still James Potter. "Madam Pomfrey?" And she is in her office.
"Oh, yes, Miss Evans, you can go. Just take it easy. No sudden movements or shocks or anything."
I am stunned into silence. But only for a moment, because I'm painfully aware that I'm still going to be late for McGonagall's class.
"Um, thanks!" I'm still standing here though, trying hard to avoid James' gaze.
"Well? Evans? Are you coming?" OK, so, back to Evans. That helps a bit, I guess, even if I am a bit disappointed.
"Of course I am! You think I want to be late?" And I'm going to be so proactive that I'm going to march out of the hospital wing in front of him.
"I think-" Did he just grab my arm? "-that you might want to go this way. It's quicker, trust me." Yes, his hand is still there, on my arm. Ah, now he's noticed too, and pulled away whilst turning a beautiful shade of crimson. Excellent.
That's my evil side coming through, I suppose. I suspect a sliver of my Slytherin side there.
I can't help it but there's nothing to say to that, so I'll just follow him up to Transfiguration. I certainly didn't know that you could get to the top corridor this way, and annoyingly (but happily at the same time) James was right, and it is quicker. In fact we're here already, and we're even a minute early. It's odd, but so many of my encounters with James seem to have this dual-emotion factor to them. It's very confusing.
"After you, Lily."
Such a quiet, sincere voice; he can be so lovely when he wants to be.
Really, how is a girl supposed to concentrate in Transfiguration after that?