The original version of this chapter had one of those classic disclaimers at the end like "not sure if this sucks or not LOL but posted it anyway! Pls review!1!"
At risk of sounding like my former self, please let me know if this truly does suck. It's disconcerting that so much traffic has been directed to the original version of this story - a small part of me is beginning to think people prefer it and that this whole exercise may be pointless. I'm also somewhat embarrassed that i've drawn attention to my crappy writing but that is, of course, all my fault.
In early April, the study stress starts to hit. You have that manic, perfectionistic energy about you, even though the NEWTs are just under two months away. There's just not enough time, you think as you bounce up and down on your feet, staring at your revision schedule. You should have made this chart weeks ago.
You're not ordinarily a competitive person, in fact, the person you like to compete with the most is yourself. But you do have an unquenchable thirst to prove yourself. It might be an insecurity born out of being a muggle born; someone who inherently has to work harder to prove that they belong in the magical world. Or it could be because you have crafted a persona over your six years of being the smart, driven student. Maybe, you just want to be remembered as being good enough.
In any case, you need to get top NEWTs no matter how exhausting or nasty they are. Given the current political climate, you're not sure what jobs will be open to a muggle born candidate, and you have to have something going for you. Something to prove that, although you don't have the pedigree of a pureblood, you're just as competent.
The caveat to your usual abstinence of competition is, of course, James Potter. The poster child for pureblood wizards who, for some reason, cannot give less of a damn about actually being a pureblood wizard. Although you are grateful that prats like James and Sirius exist; purebloods who openly ridicule the opinions of their less than tolerant peers, it is also maddening to see them do nothing with the leg up they have been given in life.
James and Sirius are pureblood, not proud of it and not productive in any sense of the word. In fact, as NEWTs get closer, they somehow seem to do even less work than they have ever done before. James is still blessedly quiet in the shared dormitory and allows you to spread your parchment and books all over the floor as you work at ridiculous hours through the mountains of exam preparation which you have taken on in addition to your regular homework. If you stop to think about it, however, it's been a long time since you've seen him even look in the direction of a book.
The real problem is that James and Sirius are wildly intelligent, and there's no point denying it. They have the devil-may-care attitude, the natural talent and the impeccable breeding to boot. They barely break a sweat when asked a question in class, even though you never see James do any preparation. In fact, you're fairly certain both of them were performing NEWT level transfiguration in your fourth year. McGonagall tolerates their bad behaviour because firstly, they're gifted students and secondly, they're both on the Quidditch team that won the House Cup last year. It's obscenely unfair.
You're a hard working student who gets great grades because you care to put in the hours. But that just feels like an inordinate waste of time when people like James and Sirius dare to exist. They sometimes even make Remus look like a squib, and he works even harder than you.
It's with this air of uncertainty and anxiety that the disaster of the Patronus Charm unfolds.
The Patronus Charm is, of course, a charm. So naturally you expect that you will be proficient at it. Your best subject is charms after all (closely followed by potions). A Patronus Charm isn't ordinarily within the standard coursework for the NEWTs, but it's been added this year as a precautionary measure given the current state of affairs with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and parental anxiety about preparing children for not only their future vocation but also for potential warfare.
You know that James and Sirius are also very interested in this class because they tell everyone on a daily basis that they're budding Aurors. You like to remind James that Aurors need to be mature and resist their random urges to throw people in lakes. He just laughs and says that no Dark Wizard could ever scare him like you do.
The class starts with Professor Dromatious explaining how complex the charm is and that the class shouldn't expect to successfully cast it on their first attempt. He shuts the blinds and dims the classroom in order to create the necessary, depressing effect. A gloomy glow settles across the room and the glass jars behind the professor's desk glint dangerously in the low light.
It appears that Dromatious has also cast an atmospheric charm of some sort. The entire feeling of the room is one of crushing hopelessness, albeit probably positively cheery compared to a real Dementor.
You look eyes fall on James across the room. He looks preoccupied, but you quickly realise that's because Sirius has tied Peter's shoelaces together and is waiting with bated breath for him to try and move. The negative atmosphere appears to wash off all three of them like water on a duck's back. Remus looks concerned and you don't blame him.
Professor Dromatious suggests that you pair up to practice, and as expected, Marlene pulls you to the side before Dirk Cresswell can ask her. You notice Remus speaking to Dromatious in a low, urgent voice. You try to eavesdrop as something is clearly disturbing him, but after a few seconds Dromatious just nods his head and Remus strides quickly from the room, collecting his books as he goes.
Just as he whips out of the door, Peter falls over his feet predictably and Sirius snorts. Peter scowls at him and shoots a stinging hex which hits Sirius in the wrist. Sirius scratches at it and says something about fleas and the three of them dissolve into laughter together.
Dromatious isn't impressed. As punishment, he demands that Potter and Pettigrew pair with Marlene and you with Black. It isn't entirely fair that you are doomed to a horrible lesson as well, you think. At least you escaped Peter who is now scowling even deeper at the Professor.
Sirius grins at you.
"So have you mastered this one, Evans?" he asks, twirling his wand between his hands.
"I've never attempted. Why don't you show me," you say with an air of innocent challenge. He takes the bait.
"I wouldn't miss an opportunity to teach the great Lily Evans a lesson," he smirks and flourishes the hawthorn and dragon-heartstring wand. Peter looks over at him hopefully and whispers something to James. James grins in response.
Of course Sirius Black can cast a perfect, fully corporeal Patronus, you think. You live in hope that one day you will turn up to a class where James and Sirius fail to do something perfectly the first time they try. That would be evidence that the world was not inherently unfair.
A great, silvery dog the size of a small bear bursts out of the tip of his wand and floats on air as it runs the length of the classroom. Sirius doesn't look remotely surprised at the unusually large animal. He looks as if someone taught him to cast a Patronus in primary school.
Professor Dromatious is, of course, beside himself. A student able to cast a Patronus charm on their first attempt is virtually unheard of. You're fairly certain this is not Sirius' first attempt at a Patronus Charm but he doesn't make any move to correct the Professor. On the contrary, he laps up the praise. Every other head in the room turns to face them, silvery wisps of light outshone by the brilliant animal.
Not five minutes later, a regal stag is prancing around Marlene as Potter directs it with his wand. Someone may as well have engorgio-d his head. He looks far too pleased with himself.
Even Peter manages to produce more than a wisp. A small animal takes shape on his attempts although it isn't as formed and controlled as the other two. Still, it's something.
It's something more than you have, that's for sure. Thin wasps of silvery light emanate from your wand and Marlenes, even when you concentrate on the happiest memory you can think of. The dim and gloomy classroom is making it so hard to concentrate on happy memories in general that you eventually just give up and try to help Marlene who is actually further along the process than you are.
It's even more difficult to concentrate with Black and Potter prancing around the classroom and Peter piping up to tell everyone that he can actually almost do it, too.
"I didn't know I was smarter than Evans," he taunts as he looks at your pathetic attempt.
Black is looking at you so smugly that you want to be sick all over his tatty shoes. James rolls his eyes and reminds Peter that he blew something up in potions not two hours ago.
Sirius laughs. Ironically, it sounds very animalistic and in alignment with his Patronus.
~.~
Over the next two weeks you become increasingly pathetic, desperately trying to make the Patronus Charm work. You know it will likely be on the Defence Against the Dark Arts NEWT and you're starting to panic. The panic is making it increasingly difficult to come up with happy memories to use in a fight against a non-existent Dementor.
Schoolwork should never be this hard you think, as you practice the incantation for what feels like the hundredth time. It's fast approaching midnight and your sleep deprivation is really starting to take a toll on your concentration.
James waltzes through the portrait hole just after twenty minutes later, evidently back from a late-night jaunt down to the kitchens. He empties his pockets of pastries onto the table and grins.
"Need help?" he asks, bending down to look at the textbook on the floor.
You are frustrated by the very suggestion. Despite the fact that James does no work and somehow manages to be your academic superior, you can't recall ever being wholly incapable of doing something that he is able to.
"I don't need help, Potter," you hiss. "I'm just tired and struggling to feel happy about anything."
"Oh," he says, as he drops down onto the couch next to you and runs a hand through his hair. You wonder, given your unfriendly reaction, why he decides to impose his company on you.
"How is this so easy for you?" you moan. "Is it because you're always thinking up idiotic things to find hilarious?"
He laughs and leans back onto the cushion. "Believe it or not, I don't think about myself when I conjure a Patronus."
You don't quite believe it, but for some reason his presence is proving settling rather than irritating. "How long have you been able to cast one, anyway," you ask.
He shrugs. "A while."
You feel a rush of something that feels awfully like affection as you look across at him on the couch. The nonchalant modesty, so far away from the James Potter of old, strikes you.
He clears his throat and says, "I can help you think of something if you like?"
You look at him with half-hearted suspicion. "Potter, you know nothing about my life except that I attend Hogwarts, like chocolate mint ice cream and dislike Transfiguration."
A small smile creeps onto his lips. "You have more likes than that," he says.
By Salazar you do. One of them is sitting right in front of you with that slightly asymmetrical smile that pulls up more on the left side of his lips than the other. He reaches up to tousle his hair nervously. You sort of like that you can make James Potter, Patronus Charm extraordinaire, nervous.
You're not quite sure at what point your irritation with him ceases and your attraction to him takes hold of your brain, but you find yourself staring at him again. It's very difficult not to because the dormitory is creating a charged sort atmosphere with the embers of the fire dying away and the low light casting soft shadows around the room. Your skin feels warm, on edge, but not uncomfortable. The prickle of anticipation roves across it like an electric current.
He looks at you expectantly. "Are you okay?" he murmurs in a low voice. It's an appealing sound, you think. Everything James Potter does is bloody appealing.
You nod, but can't look away from his face, his hazel eyes transfixed on your green ones. You feel like you have lost the ability to think rationally, let alone speak. His hands twitch, like he wants to reach out and touch you but is resisting. You wish you knew the words to tell him to give in.
"Well, we could-," he whispers, and then pauses to wait for your reaction.
You somehow force the part of your brain responsible for speech production to recommence operation. "Could what?"
It comes out very shakily and you suck in a deep breath to try to settle yourself. Something in your stomach is fluttering violently and you're convinced you might be on the edge of a panic attack.
"We could make a memory," he breathes, hair now terribly ruffled from his nervousness. He looks as if he can't quite believe what he's saying; what's about to happen.
"What do you mean?" you ask stupidly, and as if drawn like a magnet, your body involuntarily leans closer to him.
He stops fighting his hands and reaches out with one of them to touch your face, cupping your jaw in the palm of his hand. The hazel eyes bore into you again with some kind of anxious expectation, trying to read you. You're not sure what signals you are giving right now but you dearly hope they're the right ones.
"I'm going to kiss you," he murmurs again, openly staring at your lips as if entranced.
"Okay-" you start, but before you have time to register what you're agreeing to, his lips are on yours and your conscious mind lapses into total uselessness.
It starts gentle, teasing, testing, exploring. He grazes his lips across yours and then leans into you, deepening the kiss. You find one of your hands wandering to the nape of his neck, fingers feeling electrified against his warm skin, the other trying to steady yourself on the couch.
It turns more hungry, more desperate quite quickly and without really thinking about anything except the desire to be closer and to touch him, you crawl onto his lap, knees planted on either side of him. His hands find your back and your waist, pushing your shirt and jumper up slightly to feel your skin and your body curves in response.
You're absolutely coming undone as his tongue does unspeakable things in your mouth, sliding wet and hot against yours as you involuntarily press into him and he moans softly into the kiss. It has to be the most delicious noise you can recall hearing come from James Potter's mouth and, as he starts to draw his lips away slightly, you lunge back in for more.
He holds you close as his lips ravage you, as if you're a vital source of energy he needs to survive. Breathing erratically you gasp as his lips break away from yours and move to your neck, mercilessly trailing kisses down the skin and gently sucking on the place where the neck and shoulders meet. Your body feels as if it's on fire, warm, pliant, completely submissive and yet ravenously wanting more.
It has to be a good ten minutes of all-out snogging before you pull away. You sit back in his lap, breathing laboured and raspy. He stares at you in abject adoration, hazel eyes wide like something very good has happened but he can't quite believe it's real.
A thought comes to you and you reach for your wand. He flinches instantaneously. You have a vague recollection of threatening to hex him if he ever dared to try to kiss you, but that's not important right now.
"Lily I'm-" he begins, pushing himself backwards as much as he can, notwithstanding that you're quite literally sitting on top of him.
You ignore him, allowing the feeling of euphoria to fill you up and steady yourself.
It turns out, James Potter is really good at snogging. As soon as you speak the incantation the thin silvery wisps of a Patronus solidify, becoming fully fledged and taking form in front of your eyes.
James lets out a noise which sounds like he has choked on his tongue.
In the middle of the room shines the most dazzling animal you have ever seen. A doe, long limbed, lithe and ethereal with orb-like eyes. You feel a rush of affection like a proud parent.
It's beautiful.
You look back at James for some sort of congratulation but his eyes are as wide as the doe's and he looks, probably for the first time in his life, lost for words.
"What? Do you still believe I can't do it?" you tease, grinning at his thunderstruck expression.
His face transforms, lips parting into the widest, most breathtaking smile you've ever seen him wear. He looks like he's just won ten million galleons. You're a bit confused by the enthusiasm, surely it isn't that shocking you have been able to produce a Patronus.
Then he reaches for his wand, breathes the incantation and the silver stag materialises, galloping around the top of your head to join the shimmering doe near the window.
You both stare for a second, transfixed by the sight, before the silvery forms dissipate and you come back to your senses, pushing him back onto the couch.
"Potter, you ruined my Patronus!" You exclaim, probably bursting his eardrum in the process.
The stupid, radiant smile remains fixed on his face as he looks up at you. You could be beating him to a pulp right now and he would probably enjoy it.
"I-I thought of snogging you and so it just took the complementary form of your one!" you continue, confused irritation washing over you.
He laughs and (dangerously, in your opinion) reaches up to your face to run his hands down your cheek, cupping your jaw again as he stares at you.
"I can't determine your Patronus for you, Lily," he says, still grinning in a way that must make his cheeks hurt.
"Well then why-" you start, and can't quite find the words to finish the question. You try and think of what the book resting somewhere near the end of the couch has taught you.
"Your Patronus is a reflection of your innermost personality, for starters," he says. "So unless you think I really affect you that much-"
You scowl at him and he laughs, lifting his hand off your cheek and running it down your arm fondly.
"You can-" he begins again, and then stops himself, looking at you uncertainly.
"I can change it?" you ask, sounding a bit too hopeful.
He laughs again and looks away, almost shyly.
"According to Miranda Goshawk," he says (when James Potter ever actually bothered to read Miranda Goshawk, you're not sure), "your Patronus can sometimes change to the complementary form of someone else's if you go through some sort of emotional upheaval."
You furrow your brow. "Emotional upheaval?"
He looks back at you, lips quirking into a familiar smirk. "Well, in the words of Miranda," he replies, "if the caster falls into an eternal, unchanging love, for example."
You scoff and roll your eyes. He grins back at you so you hit him over the head with a pillow.
He grins even more.