A Friday morning. A new day. A happy day, for that matter. From the moment I opened my eyes, a delicious golden feeling swelled up inside my chest. I mean, come on. At the end of a long, torturous week at school, who doesn't get that Friday feeling?

Rain was pounding the windows when I swung my legs out of bed, and the sky looked as though someone had just puked porridge on it (i.e.: GREY) but I didn't let that spoil the happy feeling in my soul. After all, at the end of today I would be set free, free for two glorious days. Ah, it was beautiful. Yes, I might have Care of Magical Creatures outside in the bucketing rain today, and yes, the showers were pouring ice-cold water onto my skin that morning, but who cared? It was FRIDAY!

Marlene had already gone down to breakfast when I came out of the shower, so after drying my hair and getting dressed I sailed down to the Great Hall on my own. Everything was going nicely. My hair was silky smooth, it was Friday…I even smiled at a bunch of third years walking in my direction. See? That is how nice I am. Most fifth years like me hated third years, but I was unprejudiced.

One of them called out to me.

"Got a spare fag?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Er – no."

"Tight bitch!" The third year in question stuck up his middle finger at me, and his mates roared with laughter.

"I don't smoke, you fool!" I snapped back at him, before turning on my heel and striding furiously away from them.

I am never smiling at a third year again.

Determined to shrug it off (the blessed Friday feeling was starting to slip) I walked into the Great Hall and sat down next to Marlene.

"Morning!" I said brightly, starting to butter a crumpet. She glanced round at me.

"What are you so happy about?" she mumbled. Well, gee, what a wonderful welcome. Sometimes, you know, I really despair in the human race. I decided not to let it show.

"I am happy to be alive, Marlene. I am merely counting the simple blessings in life that everyone else insists on taking for granted. That is something that you should try, too."

She stared at me like I had grown another head. "You've forgotten, haven't you?"

A feeling of dread crept over me. "Forgotten what?"

"You have detention with Potter and McGonagall today, remember?"

I sat there and looked at her. And then I remembered, and was able to sum up my feelings with one word:

"Bugger."

That Friday Feeling I had talked about? It had completely evaporated.

0o0

I was dreading it. My stomach churned as I looked at the clock and realised I had but fifteen minutes until I had to face my greatest fear: McGonagall and Potter. Together. In the same room. I shuddered and pulled my robes closer against my body, staring at my Potions homework spread out on the table before me. I had been working on it for about half an hour now, and what had I achieved? Two lines of written work. Mmm, that would impress Slughorn. He would sure be blown away by my Potions skills now.

Marlene was curled on the rug by the fire, talking quietly to Ashleigh, another one of my room mates. Traitor. She was meant to be comforting me, but no, she had decided to talk to Ashleigh. I was left alone, huddled in my armchair, crying silent tears, forsaken by my friends…

Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I jumped so much I nearly fell off my chair. Whipping my head around, I glared at the person who had dared to awaken me from my deep depression.

"What?" I snapped irritably at Potter, who was leaning on the back of my armchair, watching me with an amused look on his face.

"You coming?" he asked me. I rolled my eyes.

"No, Potter, I'm going to sit here for the rest of the evening." I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. He raised an eyebrow, and then smiled slightly. I recoiled in horror. Gah! Potter was SMILING at me! Someone help!

"Come along, Evans," he drawled, "Or we'll be late for old Minnie."

Why did he think I would be going WITH him? "Erm, yeah," I muttered, looking up at him. "Coming."

Without bothering to say bye to Marlene (as if SHE cared anyway) I slung my bag over my shoulder, and followed Potter out of the Portrait hole, and then we walked along the corridor together.

See anything wrong with that oh-so-seemingly-natural-sentence?

Yeah, me too. I followed POTTER out of the portrait hole, and WE walked along the corridor TOGETHER.

What the hell was going on?

"So," he said, breaking the rather awkward silence that had filled the air, "D'you like ducks?"

Ducks?

"Potter?" I said, looking sideways at him.

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

I swear he drooped slightly when I said that. It didn't take him long to recover, unfortunately.

"I like ducks."

"I'm happy for you," I replied dryly, wondering just how long the walk to McGonagall's office was going to take.

"Last week I shot a duck."

I stared at him. "How could you have done? Ducks don't even live around here."

He tapped the side of his nose and winked at me. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Oh, Good Lord.

I never thought I would be pleased to see McGonagall, but my heart actually rose in relief when I spotted her peering out of her office door and scowling down the corridor at us. So pleased was I, that I nearly smiled at her, but I hastily bit the inside of my cheek when I remembered where Smiling and Being Nice can get you.

"You are both two minutes late," she snapped at us, holding the door open as we trooped inside.

"Two whole ones?" I just heard Potter mutter behind my back. I felt my lip quiver, and quickly bit down on that as well. Result was I probably looked like some kind of hamster hungry enough to eat the inside of its own mouth. Attractive.

McGonagall sat down behind her desk, and glared up at us. Then she pointed over at a teetering stack of tartan (oh the horror, the horror!) envelopes.

"Seeing as I must sacrifice my evening for both of you, I have decided to set you doing something useful," she snapped up at us. "Miss Evans, you will writing out the addresses on the envelopes. Mr Potter, you will be stamping them down with the wax seal. After half an hour you will swap jobs. Clear?"

We both nodded mutely. McGonagall thrust a list of addresses at me, then pointed to a small writing desk in the corner.

"Start," she commanded, and with that, we jumped to it.

It was actually quite relaxing after a while. McGonagall got on with marking books or whatever it was she was doing, and I got on with writing the addresses. Potter was sitting there with the hot wax stamp thing, looking bored out of his mind.

"Hey, Professor?" he asked after about ten minutes of quiet working, "What's in the envelopes?"

God, he was brave. Or just plain stupid, one of the two. McGonagall fixed him with a long, piercing look over the top of her spectacles.

"I fail to see why it is any business of yours, Potter," she said, her voice dangerously soft. Potter didn't say anything after that. It seemed even he wasn't dumb enough to take on 'old Minnie' in that mood.

Another ten minutes. My wrist was starting to ache. Good Merlin, how many people was McGonagall writing to? Surely she didn't have that many friends? In despair, I looked down at the next address.

Mrs Sukie Salmon

No' 19 Tree Stop Lane

Coalington

Wales

Sukie Salmon? What kind of name was that? God, imagine having to introduce yourself at parties. "Hello, I'm Mrs Salmon, and this is my husband, Mr Salmon." I mean, you'd just get laughed out the place wouldn't you?

McGonagall stood up suddenly, brushing the front of her robes down. She eyed us both beadily. "I will be back, shortly," she announced, "And if I come back to find you have made no progress whatsoever, I will be most displeased."

Or in other words, you'll decapitate us. I watched her go out the corner of my eye, carefully still writing out Sukie Salmon's address. It seemed Potter was as well, because when the door closed with a snap we both visibly relaxed.

"Thank Merlin!" he said loudly, tossing the stamp onto the desk and stretching his arms backwards. I cocked an eyebrow at him. Or at least, I tried to. I probably just looked like I was squinting or something.

"Got summat in your eye, Evans?" Yep, it looked like I was squinting. Bloody typical.

I ignored him, and turned back to writing out the next address.

Potter, however, didn't like that very much. After about ten seconds of too-good-to-be-true silence he suddenly goes: "What's your middle name?"

Ok, he did NOT just ask me that. Maybe if I wouldn't say anything, he'd forget he'd said it and stop talking to me…

"Evans? Hello? Evans?" He nudged me. Twice. I looked up at him, barely able to stop myself snarling.

"What?"

"What's your middle name?"

"Why the hell would I tell you something like that?"

He pouted. Yes, pouted, as in stuck out his bottom lip and looked at me with big puppy eyes. Oh God. He looked like a fish. A dying one. I felt a giggle start to bubble up inside me, but I bit down on my lip and looked away from him. There was no way I'd boost his ego and let him think he'd made me laugh!

I chanced a glance back at him. Potter the fish was still there.

Hmm, a fish with glasses…

A snort of laughter fought its way out of my tightly sealed lips. Potter grinned at me, then reached past me and plucked one of the envelopes from McGonagall's stack. I frowned at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking inside," he replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I gaped at him in horror.

"Didn't you hear her, you stupid - " I stood up and went to snatch the envelope out of his hands, but he was too fast for me and held it away at arms length. Result was, I went toppling into his chest and kind of ended up on top of him.

Gah!

"You stupid idiot!" I snapped at him, pushing myself off him (using his stomach as launch pad, of course) and trying to hide my own coloured cheeks. "She could be back at any moment!"

Potter, I was glad to see, had been somewhat winded by my shove in his stomach, but he recovered almost instantly, like the annoying bit of rubber he is. "Loosen up, Evans!" he wheezed at me, the inane grin still on his face. He still clutched the envelope in his hand, impossibly far away from me. "Tell me what your middle name is, and I'll give you the envelope!"

"Why are you so desperate to know?" I started inching around the back of his chair, keeping my eyes fixed on the envelope. He had me sussed, however, because in two seconds he was on his feet as well, holding it up high in his windmill arms. Drat.

"I'm a collector of middle names," he told me airily. "It's my ambition to find out what everyone's middle name is, and I haven't got yours yet."

"Oh, and that's not sad at all," I replied sarcastically, wondering if I should degrade myself by jumping. His arm was starting to sag…maybe, if I jumped really high…

"It's a hobby." His grin grew larger. "Are you going to tell me, so we can sit back down and carry on safely, or are we going to stand here when McGonagall could come back at any moment and get us both into trouble?"

ARAGH! He had been taking lessons from Moony! Cryptic or too-clever-for-their-own-good people mess with my head. Also, I had become very aware of our positions. I was backed up against a wall for heavens sake, and he was towering over me, so close his breath ruffled my hair. I couldn't escape.

And then, suddenly, it all became clear.

"Oh, Potter," I sighed, winding my arms around his neck and stepping closer to him. We were now (bletch) entwined in a rather compromising position. "I hate these petty arguments. Why we can't we just be…"

My knee inched between his legs, in a seemingly seductive move. His eyes had widened, and pink was creeping into his cheeks. I grinned evilly at him, then brought my knee up, hard, smashing right into his…sensitive area.

"Friends?"

He gave what I can only describe as a shriek, and pressed both hands over his groin, bringing the letter down with him. I whipped it away from his now lax fingers, pushed him away from me and sat back down at my desk. A small bell gave a short ring, and I turned to look at Potter, who was still hunched over, glaring at me with suspiciously watery eyes.

"Would you look at that," I said casually, "It's your turn to write the addresses now."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hello to you all. This has got to be the longest chapter I've done so far…I hope you're all proud.

Now, quite a lot of people have told me that Professor Trelawney couldn't POSSIBLY teach at Hogwarts, because she started after Lily and James left…yes, the thought did cross my mind. But I really, really want them to do a detention with her. I have plans for her. So…let's just pretend that Trelawney started teaching in Lily and James's fifth year, okay? It's only a few years difference…I mean, according to JK, they died when they were twenty two. (Sniff) If you have a problem with that, then…oh well. Go read another story.

To all of you who have heard of the wonderful song which is Tribute, I leave you with this:

"Look into my eyes and it's easy to see: one and one make two, two and one make three, it was DESTINY! Once every hundred thousand years or so, where the sun doth shine and the moon doth glow, and the grass doth grow – oh!"

Peace out!