A/N: I could give an abundance of reasons why I haven't updated within a reasonable amount of time, like I went on a class trip, was beaten down by math homework and am doing miserable in physics, had a recent increase in after-school activities and creative writing homework, worked an unbearable amount… but I won't. I don't want to seem like I'm making excuses, or anything.

James

I'd like to think I'm a reasonably handsome guy.

My nose is just right, any color besides turquoise makes my complexion look simply smashing, and my mum practically swears by my right dimple. Not to mention the way my naturally messy hair adds pizzazz and a subtle rebellious flare to my overall delectable appearance.

So logically, technically, and even metaphorically, any girl would be delighted to have me, right?

Wrong.

Lily Evans. Correction, Lily–no-good-suck-up-holier-than-thou-grotesque-when-she-glares-hardly-a-sense-of-humor-alright-smile-don't-mind-her-in-a-skirt-nice-laugh-witty-and-mind-rapturing-eyes-you-could-get-lost-in-great-legs-cute-sprinkle-of-freckles-across-the-bridge-of-her- er… Where was I going with this?

I'm so very, very confused.

You know, this is all Sirius's fault. Before he had to go on and instigate this whole thing I had a perfectly healthy relationship with her. I taunted her, she snapped at me, I imagined her in nothing but mashed potatoes, she called me a prick… it worked out all fine and dandy.

That was back when I still thought she would succumb to my irresistible manliness at the first tiny sign of affection.

Though, I must admit. I thought being turned down by my sworn enemy would be the worst thing that could ever happen to me. Wrong again.

"You know James, everyday pursuits and leisurely activities play a big part in one's decision process."

Because right now,

"For goodness sake's, honey, she could enjoy knitting just as much as you enjoy Quidditch! You're a special boy, really."

I'm listening to a rejection speech from my mother.

Which I'm just barely enduring, by the way. The only thing getting me through it is imagining Sirius is various forms of medieval torture.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, James?" Mum questioned, pushing aside a rowdy lock of my hair.

"Sure," I nodded with as much enthusiasm I could muster. "So ah, are we done yet?"

Mum frowned. "I don't know… I'm still worried she's damaged my precious-,"

"All right mum," I hurried to swat away her overly-endearing hand. "I'm fine, really, I know I'm uh," I gulped and hastily uttered the words, "special boy, and that anything anyone says or does to me will not affect or hinder my er, specialness." My eyes darted in self-consciousness as I spoke the discreditable words.

My mother sighed and reached out a hand to absently flatten my hair. "Well if you're sure, dear." I forced a grin and stood up, shaking her hand off my head.

"Positive mum," I announced, and watched as she reluctantly rose up beside me. Finally after a tight hug and a worrisome glance, she left the room, calling over her shoulder to come down to dinner in five minutes, if I was feeling up to it.

Honestly.

---

I stirred the steaming broth in front of me, allowing the warm condensation to hit my face as I watched the noodles and flecks of pepper twist into one another. One would normally think a blazing bowl of soup would be best on a blistery winter day, but contrary to the warm temperature outside, the cooling charms my dad had cast around the house had gained so much momentum that we might have very well been living in the artic.

I looked over to my left at my dad's empty place setting. I'd have to remind mum to let him know when he got home, I'd fix it myself if the ridiculous rules of underage wizards hadn't been in place.

"Ministry today?" I questioned, glancing over at my mum. Her eyes flicked up from her buttered roll, before looking between my father's chair and I. She nodded.

"Queries called him in this morning," she informed me, after peering at the calendar that lay across the side of the cabinet. "He-," she cut off abruptly as her eyes fell upon a bright orange filing folder. "Oh no," she picked up the folder and leafed through it, frowning. "Your father must've forgotten this; he's been working on the Etchingson case for nearly a week, and I do believe they're meeting today."

"I'll bring it to him," I volunteered quickly, wiping the remnants of soup off my lips with the back of my robe sleeve and screeching my chair out from under me. "I'll bet I can still make it," I checked the time, "It's not even six yet."

"Oh," mum flipped the folder over, as if deliberating its importance. Finally she nodded, handing it across the table. "But hurry dear, and don't forget your ID, it's over there in the-"

My mum didn't get a chance to finish her sentence, because by the time she had I was already outside, broom in one hand and ID in the other. I mounted my trustySupernova450 and bent my knees in preparation for flight, glancing up at my destination and gripping the expertly waxed handle.

"'Ello!"

"Argh!" I stumbled and fell off my broomstick at the sudden and highly unexpected interruption. I didn't even have to look up to see who was hovering above me.

"Merlin James," Sirius stared down at me, crossing his arms and shaking a humored face in disapproval. "If you're frightened of your best mate, how in the world are you going to fend off all those crooked monsters? You want to be an auror, don't you?"

I stood up and brushed patches of dirt off my robe. "Hardly a difference between you and those crooked monsters. You've got the same expression as those puffer-fish, you know that?"

Sirius grinned and shook his hair. "Yes, but they don't have lustrous black hair and dashing gray eyes that sparkle in whatever you light you muster, do they?"

I swung a leg around my broomstick and checked my inside pocket to make sure the folder was still in place. "No, don't suppose they do," I agreed absently. After checking to see everything was in order, I looked up at Sirius. "I've got to bring this to my dad, you wanna come?"

Sirius accepted the offer as I knew full well he would, considering both the facts that he had shown up unexpectedly in my front yard- a sure sign his parents were being horrid again, not that they ever weren't, just more horrid than usual- and the relatable desire he and I both held for any chance of excitement.

Within minutes we were up in the air, the excitement of flying flowing through me as it always did, wind blowing through my hair, and… Sirius complaining behind me.

"I still don't see why you got to sit up front," he griped, and tightened his grasp deliberately as we dodged a particularly large cumulus cloud. "I could've just taken my own broom."

I shook my shoulders as hard as I could without losing my balance. "You're choking me," I said, picking up a hand to swat at his purposely tight clutch on my robes.

Sirius grumbled behind me. "Well would you rather me grab you round the belly, eh mate?"

I paused and stopped wiggling. "No."

"That's what I thought," Sirius said, pulling my robes tighter once again. I still say he's doing it on purpose. "And don't think I didn't notice you changing the subject," he continued. "About me not taking my own broom? I know your plans, James; you've always been the domineering one-,"

"There wouldn't have been enough time," I told him. "Dad's meeting could be over any minute."

Sirius resigned with a sigh and loosened his grip a bit, but I swear I could hear him mutter "Some excuse" under his breath.

About ten minutes later I spotted our destination. "There it is," I pointed out a shabby and forlorn brick building. "No muggles around, right?"

Some foosawhatsit game was going on nearby that attracted most of the muggles, and that along with an unnecessarily high flying altitude was most likely the only reason mum had let me fly here. I also have a sneaking suspicion she knows about the invisibility cloak.

"Better get it on just in case," Sirius said, scanning the dusty London streets. "I think I see something moving right over there."

I agreed and pulled out my faithful cloak, letting it fall over Sirius, the broomstick and finally myself. We had to curl up our feet so they wouldn't fall beneath the hem, and in this awkward position lowered between two scruffy buildings.

I wrapped the invisibility cloak around my broomstick and rested it beside an overflowing dumpster, checking and double-checking to see no one was around. Once I was satisfied, we hurried down the road and only slowed down when we reached the familiar red phone box.

I pulled open the door and waited until Sirius crammed in beside me to pick up the phone. After scanning it briefly I reached out a finger to hover above the dial.

"What're you doing?" Sirius cut in before I had a chance to dial the first number. "That's not what it is."

I glanced over at Sirius from above the telephone. "Sure it is, six-two-four-four-two," I said, "trust me, I've been here nearly a dozen times-,"

"No, no, you've got it all wrong," Sirius pushed his way past me, "here, let me do it."

"No way," I struggled to stay in my spot. "When have you even been here?"

"Just last Sunday," Sirius replied in a nonchalant tone, "You obviously don't get invited to have brunch with the Minister, I see."

Sirius took advantage of my break in the struggle as I stared stupidly at his unforeseen reply, and pushed in front of me, dialing several numbers on the phone.

"You're crazy," I declared, stepping back to my rightful spot and dialing the number I'm sure is correct. "Now move out of the way."

Sirius fought back and we switched off, him dialing a few numbers and then me regaining control and dialing several of my own.

"Move," I grumbled, as Sirius swatted at my hands.

"I'm positive this is right-,"

"How could you even know-,"

"I'm highly perceptive; don't you remember…" Sirius trailed off in his inane excuse as an odd rumble began to shake the box, an eerie red glow slowly forming across the booth's edges. Sirius looked over at me. "Uh-oh…"

Uh-oh indeed. The red walls seemed to cave in as if the gangly old booth was sucking in a trembling deep breath, as the glow grew more and more prominent. The walls had squeezed us so tight that my cheek was pressed up to a highly awkward position on Sirius's forehead, until finally the whole thing seemed to let out a great old sneeze that sent us both barreling out of the traveling apparatus.

I pressed a shaky hand against the ground to act as leverage and pushed myself up. Looking dazedly over at Sirius, I saw he had been crumpled up beneath a bush and had just begun to make his way out. Spotting me, he shook his head slowly. "Look what you did."

I gulped down a response; there wasn't time for any nasty retorts, if we didn't hurry my father might not get his papers on time. "Would you just come on?" I begged. "And please, let me do the dialing."

Sirius groaned but reluctantly complied, following me into the booth that now appeared to be back to normal. I lifted a finger to dial the first number. "'Ah ah," I heard Sirius criticize behind me. I rolled my eyes and continued to dial. "Yes, yes, there you go." I released the wheel and went to dial the next number. "Ah, best dial that- ah, yes, yes, that's the one," Sirius continued behind me. I ignored him and dialed the remaining five digits (No, oh yes, there you go… Uh-huh, uh-huh, that's the one… Don't forget- ah yes, now you've got it) until the familiar woman's voice droned beside us.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

I released a heavy breath of relief, glad to hear the voice and not be internally combusted. "James Potter and Sirius Black," I said. "We're-,"

"Ooh, ooh," Sirius cut in before I had the chance to finish. "Say something exciting, like Voyagers of the Lost Artic, or ooh, how about-,"

"Thank you," the woman said. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

I gritted my teeth and looked back at Sirius as the badges rattled down the change chute. "If it says Voyagers of the Lost Artic, I swear…"

"Oh pity, that's not what it says," Sirius said dismally, inspecting the badges. Upon reading it, he pulled a face. "Ooh Ooh?"

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

I didn't have time to hit Sirius upside the head because at that moment the telephone box began to shudder, and soon we were traveling through the earth and into the Ministry.

I hurried through the crowd of witches and wizards, practically sprinting to catch the ever-moving golden lift. I heaved a sigh of relief as I entered just before the golden gates rattled shut, but then tensed as I viewed Sirius several feet away, chatting with a young girl that leaned against the doorframe of the International Magical Office of Law, probably someone's daughter here for a visit. From where I stood she appeared giggly and bored out of her mind- just Sirius's type. "Sirius!" I yelled, waving frantically to try and catch his attention.

Sirius looked up. "You go ahead, mate," he waved me on. Throwing a large wink at me, he continued, "I'll catch up with you in a bit."

I groaned and shook my head, but went on up without him all the same. When I finally reached level two, Istepped out andmade my way quickly down the door-lined hall, turned the usual corner and found myself in the bustling Auror Headquarters.

I weaved in-between chatting and laughing Aurors impatiently- didn't they know I had to be somewhere?

"James!" a high-pitched voice penetrated through me.

"Oh bother," I muttered under my breath, and trying desperately to dodge what I knew was coming, I dived across the room and ducked underneath an abandoned desk.

"Jamsie sweetheart, you can't hide from me!" A ghastly woman with flat gray locks and the start of a mustache appeared in front of me, tapping gleefully on the desk and beckoning me forward with the waggle of her fingertips.

"H-hi Mrs. Welby," I smiled reluctantly, addressing my dad's secretary with as much enthusiasm I could stand. I keep telling him to get a real secretary- you know, the ones with the legs. "Oh," I suddenly remembered Mrs. Welby was still there. "Er, you're probably wondering why I'm under the desk…"

"Oh no, no dear, I understand," Mrs. Welby smiled broadly. "This office can be a very scary place for a young boy of your age."

"Right," I grunted.

"How old are you now, nine, ten?"

"Fifteen."

"Right, right dear," she waved a pudgy hand carelessly. A smile spread across her face and she let out an amiable giggle. I cringed, knowing what was going to happen next.

Sure enough, Mrs. Welby retrieved an all too familiar pocketbook, its contents spilling and seams nearly split. "Here we go," she said jubilantly, reaching in and pulling out a long row of pictures. "I bet you'd love to see my adorable nieces and nephews..."

"Really Mrs. Welby, I'd love to," I said hurriedly, peering over her. "But you see, I've got to catch my dad-,"

"Nonsense, dear," she ushered me towards a desk. "It'll only take a moment." She let the flap of her pocketbook drop open, allowing dozens and dozens of pictures to unravel. "Look here, that's Jennifer-,"

"I'm really sorry Mrs. Welby," I pulled the most genuine smile I could. "But I can't stay-,"

"Oh," Mrs. Welby looked up with me with bright eyes. "Oh, I see... Sorry, it's just, they've all moved away you see, and I don't ever see any little children like you, and..."

Before I knew it my dad's rather large secretary was sobbing heartily on my shoulder, her pictures draped pitifully over my other shoulder and matted gray hair bobbing up and down.

Not a second too late, I heard my father enter the room and step up to Mrs. Welby and I. "Okay now Rosemary," he spoke through gritted teeth, straining to maintain a friendly face as he began to pry at his secretary's fingers. "Time to let go now."

Mrs. Welby gave a sad, sobbing sigh and released her tight grasp. I didn't even care it sent me flying to the ground in a tangled heap, just as long as I was out of that frightening woman's hold.

"Well now, no need for the tears Mrs. Welby," my dad said, rolling his eyes at me from abovehis secretary's head. Normally he wouldn't be so unsympathetic, but seeing as Mrs. Welby's family moved just two streets away, the sobs were becoming a bit tiresome. He bent down to help me up. "That Etchingson case is really piling up, you know, better get it filed..." Mrs. Welby dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, nodded mournfully, and finally left the room.

His last words reminded me of the reason I was here. "Oh, dad," I said, reaching inside my robe pocket to retrieve the bright orange folder. "Is the meeting with Etchingson over? Cause mum found this and she said you needed it-,"

"Oy," my father exclaimed, reaching anxiously for the papers. He flipped through them, a smile growing on his face. "Thanks, James, I would've looked like a bloody fool without these."

"Ah, no problem," I said carelessly, leaning against the abandoned desk. "It- ugh!" The desk beneath me slid a couple of inches and caused me to trip, but luckily I stumbled right upon an empty chair.

My dad chuckled, and after I regained my composure I looked up and gave him a lopsided smile. "I meant to do that," I said, beginning to stand up.

"Wait a minute," my dad said, putting a hand on my shoulder to keep me sitting down. I watched curiously as he pulled up a chair beside me, and straddled it so he was leaning on the back two legs. "Well, son," he began slowly, pausing to clear his throat.

I raised a brow inquisitively. My dad rarely gets nervous… In fact, the only times I ever see him anything shy of confident is when Grandma comes over for Sunday brunch. "You all right, dad?"

"Mmm-hmm," he loosened his tie and leaned further back in the chair. "Well," he suddenly shook his head and decided to start over, reaching inside his pocket and crumpling something inside. A few seconds later he brought out a folded up piece of parchment, and brought it up to his face to give it another quick look over. "You see son, you're mother owled me this morning and told me you were ah," he cleared his throat again and squinted his eyes, reading straight from the letter. "'Distressed, wounded, suffering a severe heartache that she doesn't know you'll be able to come out of-,"

"Ugh dad, stop, please," I said hurriedly, snatching the letter from him. I scowled and crumpled it up, tossing it in a nearby garbage bin. "I'm not uh dis- not wou- well I'm not any of those things, so there's nothing at all to talk about."

The relief that spread across my dad's face very nearly matched mine. "Good, good, that's good," he said, thumping his hand roughly against my back. "Your mother," he chuckled. "Always over-exaggerating things."

"Yeah," I laughed too. "Makes such a big deal…"

I trailed off and crossed my arms, taking a sudden interest in a piece of dust floating down in front of me. Across from me my dad began chipping at the peeling wood of his chair, picking at it with the tip of his thumbnail. Just as I lost track of the tiny speck and began searching for another, my dad lifted his head up to look at me.

"I know, well, I know she's exaggerating a tremendous amount, but if you know, you want to talk about it…"

I shrugged. "Not much too talk about. You watch, within a month Evans will be putty in my hands. Trust me, dad," I leaned backwards on the back two legs of my chair, "this'll be a piece of cake."

Of course the weekend I decided to update, the site decides to initiate a full-out recovery program.

Well, this chapter didn't turn out at all like I hoped it would, but nevertheless...

I'm done! Finished! The chains of first POV are off and third POV back on. Started the next chapter while the site recovered itself, so the next wait won't be nearly as long. Thanks for reading!