A/N: Hello everyone! Long time no see, eh? Even though I know I don't, it feels like I own you guys an explanation. The truth his, this chapter is large. Maybe not by some standards, but it's nearly twice the size as my usual chapters, and so it was, admittedly, much harder getting through this. It was also back to school season, both for me and my beta, and so it's only natural this chapter took more time.

This is also both mine and my beta's final year of highschool, and so we're trying to get everything ready for university next year. I will still try to update at least once a month, but forgive me if I take one or two more weeks in doing so! Thank you so much for being so understanding 3

Nevertheless I'm very proud of this chapter and I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own 0 of these things.


Chapter Six

Or

Slipping Into the Lava


James Potter was in a mood. In a Quidditch mood, to be precise; already on Captain mode, even outside the pitch, ordering people about while simultaneously keeping a smile plastered on his face. Entirely too cheerful, cockier than usual, as though the victory was secure. No other team had practiced as much as Gryffindor, and James would know. After all, he was the reason the pitch was never available for practices.

It was match day.

At about eleven o'clock, the team marched to the changing rooms, clad in scarlet robes and protective armour. All that was left was the war painting.

"All right, boys," he began, gripping his broom. Dorcas coughed. "And girls. It's time.

"Meadowes, Hastings, I hope you had a big breakfast. Can't have you getting hungry in the middle of the match, can I? I mean, I'm good, but one brilliant chaser doesn't compensate for two distracted ones, yeah? Macmillan," he continued, "if I see you getting distracted by Black's pretty arse, I'll bench you and use a second-string player who could probably do your job better than you, so cool it. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Potter," the team chorused.

"We're going to go out there, and we're going to trounce Slytherin. No unnecessary fouls, let's try to keep this clean, all right? And Boot?"

"Yes, Potter?"

"Catch me a snitch, will you?"

Brooms in hand, the seven of them walked out of the changing rooms, on to the pitch. Madam Hooch was refereeing. Although there were some dark clouds in the sky, it hadn't rained the night before. It wasn't cold, but it wasn't hot either and there was just the right amount of wind; Fresh and crisp, perfect quidditch weather.

The captains shook hands with the promise of a clean match, the snitch was released, and when Madam Hooch blew the whistle, the fourteen players shot up to the sky.


(The Victorious)

After nearly ninety minutes of quidditch, the Gryffindor seeker, also known as David Lee Boot – or Boot, for short, – caught a glimpse of the snitch, and swiftly put an end to the game, predictably enough, with a clear victory for Gryffindor. James Potter was a cocky bastard, for sure, but today of all days, Lily found it to be completely justifiable. On the pitch, there was no one quite like Potter, and today had definitely proven that. Lily had to give it to him, when he perched himself on top of the broomstick, even she sucked in her breath.

Due to Gryffindor's win, the common room had been turned into a full party venue, as it usually was post-victory. The celebrations had been going on for a good while now, and Lily soon found herself feeling smothered. Stopping only to inform her friends of the fact, Lily climbed her way out of the portrait hole and sat outside it, her back against the wall.

Lily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn't counting on James Potter to come after her.

"Leaving the party so soon?"

"Potter," she said, opening her eyes. "It's been going on for well over two hours, and it will undoubtedly last many more. I just want some fresh air."

"Fair enough." When he didn't turn around and go back to the party, choosing instead to lean against the wall, Lily stood up.

"Not going back?"

"It's like you said." He ran his fingers through his hair. "There's plenty of time."

"It was a great game. 370 to 180. Impressive."

James chuckled. "Thanks. Talkalot seemed distracted, though, don't you think?"

"Was she? To be honest, I didn't notice," she said, something like smugness creeping up her throat, slipping through her lips, painting her face. "Did you see the paper today?"

"Didn't really get a chance to, did I?"

"No, you were to busy bossing people around." Then, Lily carefully rearranged her features, and in a much deeper voice, she attempted to do some sort of James Potter impression, "Gudgeon! For the love of everything that is holy, keep off the beans, yes? No one wants another rendition of last year's final."

"Well, in my defense, it was a really terrible day for all parties involved."

"We won!"

"Yes, but we also got a glimpse of Gudgeon's intestines."

"Fair point," she conceded, chuckling to herself, her shoulders trembling just slightly. Teasing, she added, "I'm serious, Potter, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were going into war and not to a match."

"All's fair in love and Quidditch," he said, nonchalant, he said it with his hands in his pockets, left leg bent, back to the wall, staring right at the Fat Lady.

"Is that what you want to do? To play Quidditch?" Lily bit her lip. The corridor was pretty much deserted. The Gryffindors, most Hufflepuffs, and the odd Ravenclaw or two, were in the common room, enjoying the festivities. Most likely, the Slytherins would be in their common room, mourning the loss.

"Yes. I'm good enough to go professional, you know."

"Oh, I didn't say you weren't." It was nice. Far too nice. Lily had to get away.

"What do you want to do?"

"Right now, I'd like to take a walk."

"Oh, come off it, Evans," James replied, but nonetheless matched her stride. "What do you want to do, you know, after Hogwarts?"

"Are you sure you want to come along?" Lily asked, unsuccessfully trying to mask the crack in her voice. "It won't do anything for your reputation to be seen hanging 'round a lowly Mud-"

"Don't say that word," James snapped, and Lily's mouth clamped shut.

Shrugging, she said, "the sentiment remains."

"So you heard about that, did you?" asked James, rubbing his neck. Lily nodded.

"Straight out of Grace's mouth, actually."

"They didn't have any right, kicking up a fuss in the middle of the pitch. Mulciber and the lot were just sore they lost, and Talkalot put an end to it immediately. They had no right pulling you into the mess."

Hugging herself, Lily pondered in silence for a moment.

"I think I'd like to teach."

"At Hogwarts?"

"I'm not sure. Definitely not little kids, though-" Lily shook her head- "those can be right scary."

"Yeah," he laughed. "They can be."

"Potter."

"Yes?"

"Did you go to school?"

"Should I remind you of where we are having this conversation?"

"I meant, before coming to Hogwarts. I'm asking because Marlene said she went, but that not all purebloods do."

"Yes. And no."

"How come?"

"I didn't go to school, perse, but I did have classes. My mum, she used to teach me. At home, I mean. It's not like I had to go out and meet other kids."

"Oh, imagine that."

"You see, I don't exactly live in a wizard-heavy area. Not like Sirius anyway, who used to live smack dab in the middle of London. But the grounds were big, and my dad was always in his study, working on something or the other, and my mum would have a muggle friend over, sometimes, and she'd always bring her daughter, a poor little thing, really, and we'd have tea and biscuits…"

"Have you kept in touch?" Potter got really quiet, and Lily almost regretted asking.

"Not exactly. She died a little after I came to Hogwarts."

Lily halted, clamping her hands over her mouth.

"What happened?"

"She was ill. Dad tried his damned best to come up with a cure, but she was very weak, and it took something as tiny as a cold to wipe her out."

"I'm sorry."

James shook his head, making his already tousled hair even messier. "Nevermind that, Evans. And, for all it's worth, I think you'd make a great teacher."

Lily smiled at James.

"There's a new head in the DMLE, you know? It just came out in the Prophet this morning."

"Oh, they didn't pick that Bulstrode-douche, did they?"

"Nope," Lily said, popping her 'p'. "Bartemius Crouch."

"That's good. He's notoriously anti-Death Eater, you know. A far cry from the Minister."

"It's only Minchum's second year. He's far from competent, but not wholly bad. We've definitely had worse."

"Didn't you read his interview for the Prophet? What does he think he's doing? Going around and saying stuff like that?"

"All he said is that while the tactics aren't the best, he can sort of understand their concerns. Sure, as the Minister he probably shouldn't say that sort of thing, and certainly not on-the-record, but I can see where he's coming from. Where most purebloods are coming from."

"Please, don't tell me you buy into that bullshit, Evans!"

Lily only shrugged.

"Look at me," he said, holding her shoulders in place, his face so close to hers she could feel his breath. "Did you get a letter when you were eleven?"

"Yes."

"Then you belong here just as much as everyone else! What else would you be doing at Hogwarts? What does your family think about this?"

"Mum doesn't know, and even if she did, I'm not sure she would understand. Witches aren't exactly welcome in the Muggle world, you know."

"Your sister?"

"Petunia doesn't either, and if she knew, she wouldn't care. She already thinks I'm a freak anyway." Lily could feel her eyes getting moist.

"Don't mind her, Evans. And certainly, not them. You're better than the whole lot of them, Evans. Seriously, you are-" James was cut-off by a solid mass hitting his chest, nearly knocking him down. When he realised the mass was, in fact, Lily, James tentatively put his arms around her, only tightening his hold when she pulled his jumper between her firsts.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice muffled by his clothes.

They stood there for a few seconds, James holding Lily, and Lily letting herself be held. Soon, (too soon for James' taste), they disentangled themselves from each other, and James decided to give her some space. He'd go back to the party, let her calm down on her own for a while.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

"I'll leave you to it, then." James bowed his head and turned around.

"Wait," she beckoned to him. "I'll come with."

Together, they walked back to Gryffindor Tower, through he portrait hole, into the warmth of the common room.

The common room felt much, much hotter than the corridors, courtesy of the blazing fire and the plethora of people. It was the middle of Autumn, but inside it felt just like Cokeworth summers, where the air was hot, dense, humid.

In the corner of the room was a large, wooden table, and on top of it sat numerous snacks and beverages were scattered, including, of course, copious amounts of alcohol. It was only natural that despite it being just after three in the afternoon, it felt like so much later in the evening.

Edward Macmillan, one of the Beaters, had passed out, with his head on top of the table, and someone had taken to building a house of cards on his back. Lily suspected the Marauders.

At about a half past five p.m., Lily and the other prefects present had to leave for an impromptu meeting. Apparently, Elaine Greengrass wasn't too happy with the way the Quidditch match had turned out, and felt like spoiling the fun for other people. It was just as well, Lily had never much cared for the Head Girl.


(The Defeated)

While Lucinda was sure the Slytherin common room was warm and cosy, all she felt like was to wander around the castle, feeling the cold. Outside, it was raining, and never before had she felt as much like going out and getting drenched. After the Prefect meeting, she had decided to leave the castle and do just that, but as soon as she crossed the wall, she found her best friend, Bertha Jorkins, waiting for her outside.

"It's pouring, and you want to go out and feel the rain? Are you actually out of your mind? You'll get so ill."

Instead, Bertha convinced her to just take a stroll around the castle, promising to stay away from Gryffindor Tower, of course, and the pair went on their way.

Eventually, they found themselves outside the library, which was not unusual in itself. Most days, the two of them could be found inside, either working on school work or, more often than not, catching up on the latest gossip. Bertha was, after all, just a sixteen year old witch, and she had needs goddamnit. Lucinda didn't mind. Even if gossiping wasn't her favourite pastime, Bertha always listen to her Quidditch rants without complaining, and so it was only fair she returned the favour. It would do no good to lose her only friend in the whole castle, even if she had recently started to consider Marlene Mckinnon her second one.

She had never gotten along with her house mates, not really. Most of them were blood purist assholes, the rest of them snotty brats. Lucinda, whose family had always been notoriously pro-muggle, her mother being a muggleborn and all, had always been shut out by her housemates. There was always the issue of her newly-discovered queerness. Of course, she had tried making friends during her first year at Hogwarts, but even if the girls in her dorm weren't as prissy then as they were now, twelve-year-old-Lucinda soon found she didn't have a lot in common with them. Not that she needed to, of course. She had Bertha, a curly haired, dark skinned, outgoing Hufflepuff she had been paired with during her second Charms lesson.

Slytherin or not, what did a second-year girl need that she couldn't find in a close best friend? Not much.

Lucinda sat at a table in the Herbology section. Meanwhile, Bertha carefully perused the titles, often pulling a book out, skimming the pages, and placing it back on the shelves, waiting, in silence, for Lucinda to say something. For a while, the room felt eerily quiet, the only sound being the rain pattering on the windows. Eventually, she heard Lucinda speak.

"It's my fault," she said, head in her hands, fingers threading through her blonde hair.

"What are you even talking about?" asked the other, finally sitting down.

"The match. I was distracted. And then we lost, and the boys started pulling their pureblood bullshit right in the middle of the pitch… You should have seen James Potter's face! And on my first match as captain, too! They probably hate me now."

"I thought you didn't care for Gryffindors."

"Not all of them." Bertha nodded in acknowledgement.

"I did notice you staring at the stands a little too much."

"Merlin, do you think anyone else noticed?"

"I'm sure they didn't. Want to talk about it?" she offered.

"No, it's okay." Of course, she ended up talking about it.

"It's just that, this thing, with Marlene… She was right there, in the stands, cheering for the opposite team…"

"It is her team you know. It's only fair she root for her own house."

"I know that! But it sort of felt like she was cheering against me, which I know is far from the truth, but well, you know, deep rooted self-esteem issues have weird ways to come out."

"Yes, I know. And it's natural to feel that way, you know. Do you…"

"Do I what?"

"Do you like Marlene?"

"…I don't know."

"You don't have to figure it out right now. These things take time."

"Why did she have to go and be a bloody Gryffindor?"

"She's probably asking the same thing. Why did you have to go and be a bloody Slytherin?"

"She's not wondering anything, Jorkins. She's straight."

"How do you know?"

"Have you ever seen her dating a girl?"

"That means shit, and you know it."

"Whatever. Besides, I'm not in any position for a relationship or anything of the sort, you know that."

"You can't… put your life on hold because… because of him. You deserve to move on from that, you know."

"Easier said than done." Lucinda's tone became clipped, colder. Bertha noticed it, and promptly changed the subject.

"Well, you will not believe what I heard about that tart Ada Walsh…"


Elaine Greengrass was an intimidating witch. Extremely tall, far, far taller than the Head Boy (Mark Travers, Ravenclaw), with a strong build, jet black hair cut by her chin, and a chiseled jawline, Elaine Greengrass looked like she could run for Minister for Magic and win without even having to campaign. Her eyes were angular and narrow, her chin small, and her complexion ashen.

Elaine Greengrass had never cared for Lily, and never had Lily felt as tempted to dislike her right back.

It was a Saturday, nearly time for supper. The prefect meeting had just come to an end, but instead of relaxing in the common room after, Lily and some of the other prefects would have to spend their evening decorating the Great Hall for Halloween. Needless it is to say, Lily wasn't feeling particularly joyous.

Being forced to spend a couple of hours stuck in the same room as Severus wasn't exactly a happy ordeal. Whenever they were paired in Potions, at least they'd be busy, and the class could never last over ninety minutes. Prefect obligations could very well last through the night. Thank God it was only a Saturday.

For over three hours the prefects charmed candles, carved and hung pumpkins. It was well after midnight when Lily finally closed the curtains to her four poster.


(The thirty-first of October, 1976)

The following day, was Halloween, or on a lesser level, a Sunday. It was cold and it had rained during the night, but other than that, the weather wasn't terrible. Surprisingly, it wasn't very muddy out, and there was no trace of fogginess. Some would even find that it was a very agreeable day outside.

For Lily, however, it felt like she had just arrived at the gates of Hell. Her head was pounding, and the light coming through the window was blinding. She asked one of her roommates, Elizabeth, if she had the time, and when she discovered it was before seven in the morning, she turned around and buried her head in the pillow once more. Why her friends had decided to wake her up at such an ungodly hour, especially knowing how late she had got to bed the previous night, Lily did not know. What Lily did know, was that she would not give them the satisfaction of getting out of bed before ten.

"Lily!" she head Marlene call her, over and over again. At first, she simply rolled over.

"No. Lily isn't available. Come back tomorrow." Safe to say, Lily was a not a morning person. She'd never been, and she sure wasn't going to start now. Not when she was running on less than six hours of sleep, let alone on a Sunday. It was the principle of the thing.

Marlene then took to yanking the covers off of Lily, who quietly, and slowly sat on the bed, crosslegged, her eyes still closed.

"Marlene," she started, and it was disconcerting how even her voice sounded, "I am giving you a warning because you're my friend, and I'd miss you if you died. I am going back to sleep now. And if you even think about waking me up again, I will scoop your eyes out with a spoon, and feed them to Mary's cat."

With a smirk on her lips, Lily laid down once again, and pretended to fall asleep, only just barely hearing Mary's plead for them to leave Colonel Fitzwilliam out of it.

"No need to get so aggressive." Marlene said, raising her arms. "And it's just as well, you stay here and miss out on all the fun."

That got Lily interested. She cracked one eye open. "What fun?"

"Oh, nothing interesting. After all, it is before ten, and on a weekend, no less-"

"Cut the crap, Mar." Marlene simply laughed, while Lily finally conceded and left her bed, pouting all the way to the bathroom.

"It's the Great Hall." Marlene covered her mouth with her hand, unsuccessfully trying to stifle her giggles. Lily cocked an eyebrow at her. "It's covered in toilet paper."

Lily groaned, pulling at her hair. "All that hard work… For nothing!"

"Don't be so dramatic, Lily. Honestly, you'd think someone died."

"My soul died."

"Of course it did. Did your will to live also vanish?"

Gathering her toiletries and a change of clothes, Lily replied, smiling, "how did you know?"

"Lucky guess," said Marlene, who wore a smirk on her lips.

Quickly, Lily showered, washing away any trace of sleep from her face. Hopefully, once she was done, she wouldn't look as much of a zombie. Ah! Fat chance of that happening. Looking in the mirror, and noticing the bags under her eyes, Lily sighed. Oh well, it was her friends' fault that they'd be hanging around the undead for the day.

The three of them walked to the Great Hall – Lizzy and Susan had already gone down to breakfast – and when they arrived… Well, it turns out, Marlene's explanation had been a bit of an understatement. The Great Hall was covered in toilet paper, yes, but there was also some weird, green goo splattered all over the walls and, most especially, on the Slytherin table.

Lily noticed the Charms and Transfiguration professors running around, waving their wands, trying unsuccessfully to vanish the mess. In her sleep deprived state, Lily found the sight so incredibly amusing, she actually sat down and started cackling like a madwoman.

Eventually, the Marauders arrived, and when Peter asked what was wrong with her, Marlene simply waved his concerns off with a snarky, "oh Peter, pay her no mind. Sunday mornings usually equal mentally deranged Lily."


Unfortunately for Lily, Halloween usually meant a Slug Club gathering. Not wanting to deprive the students of what was sure to be a magnificent Halloween feast (and most importantly, not wanting to miss out on it himself), Professor Slughorn had arranjed for them to meet for lunch.

It was… a very select group of people. Some were students that excelled at his subject, but most of them were simply charming, well-liked students, often belonging to influential families, most frequently pureblood. Lily firmly placed herself in the former category. The latter was reserved for students like James Potter, Regulus Black, Elaine Greengrass and Dorcas Meadowes.

Despite his father being a famous potioneer, James had never cared much for these so-called affairs. Usually preferring to stay with his mates, Lily couldn't help but be surprised when she found him in his Hogwarts robes, outside the room where lunch would be held. The door was closed, and Potter looked as though he was considering whether he actually wanted to follow through or not.

Silently approaching the boy in question, Lily asked, "you and your mates wouldn't have had anything to do with the mess in the Great Hall, would you?"

"Of course not." He smirked.

The dark, wooden door opened, revealing a cheerful Professor Slughorn. Suspiciously cheerful, in fact… "Lily, my dear! And Potter, lovely of you to join us! Come on in then, let's not waste any more time, shall we?"

Inside were already a few students, but by no means all of them, seeing as there were still some empty chairs.

The chairs were laid out around a circular table. Professor Slughorn sat on his usual seat, facing the door, and by his right side was Regulus, Sirius' younger brother. In front of the professor, sat Benjy Fenwick, a sixth year, keeper and captain of the Ravenclaw quidditch team. Lily sat between him and Potter.

Severus Snape hadn't arrived yet, Lily noticed, and neither had Cassie Higgs, a fourth year Gryffindor.

"Have you spoken to Heather recently?" Lily asked, making conversation. No, Slug Club meetings weren't always the most interesting of gatherings, but at least she had made some great friendships because of it. Heather was Benjy's sister, two years his younger, but unlike her brother, the Sorting Hat had placed her in Gryffindor House.


As soon as he stepped foot through the door, James was reminded of why he never came to these Slug Club functions. They were elitist, stuffy, boring.

Much to everyone's surprise, he ended up coming this time. It was his own fault he'd turned that potions essay late… Usually, James wouldn't care about missing a deadline, but it was worth thirty percent of his grade that term! James wasn't too worried, however, for he was certain Professor Slughorn would turn a blind eye if he came to one of his gatherings and maybe mentioned his father once or twice.

When he spotted Evans chatting animatedly with Benjy Fenwick, he couldn't help but regret his decision. No grade justified having to put up with that. Was James jealous? No. He was getting over Evans, remember? James simply felt betrayed. He could care less who Evans talked to, but the Ravenclaw captain? That was treason.

As the second hour stretched by, he couldn't take it anymore and, under the pretense of having detention with McGonagall, he was excused. It was a lie, and if anyone noticed, they didn't stop him.


"You okay?" Lily asked Potter. "You seem a bit peaky."

"I'm fine," he replied, and while Lily could see right through him, she also knew it wasn't the time nor the place.

Instead, she gave him a small smile as he left for detention with Professor McGonagall – or so he claimed – and focused on the conversation.

In the end, neither Severus nor Cassie showed up, and Lily couldn't help but worry.


Susan had always liked Halloween. Ever since she was small, her parents would take her and her younger brother out for trick-or treating, and her love for the holiday had only grown as the years went by, especially when she started attending Hogwarts.

There was something quite magical about a salon decorated to the brim, from the enchanted candles and pumpkins that hung from the enchanted ceiling, to the colour scheme of the drapes.

She was sitting with Elizabeth. Dumbledore wished everyone a happy Halloween, and supper magically appeared on the table.

"Are you still coming home for Christmas?" Elizabeth asked.

"If you'll have me."

"Of course we'll have you, Susan. My sister is probably going to act all self-righteous and prissy, you know, the usual, but other than that, it'll be great.

Nodding in agreement, Susan said, "Emma… She's definitely something else, I'll give you that," which seemed to launch Elizabeth into one of her frequent – albeit always entertaining – rants about her oldest sister.

"My sister doesn't ever know what she's talking about, honestly. I mean, just because her marriage was arranged, she thinks mine and Eve's need to be too. Merlin, I hope she never has kids. She'd probably teach the poor souls about love potions before they even learn how to walk.

"James and I, we'll never have anything, you know I wouldn't do that to you."

"Yeah, I know, don't worry."

"Speak of the devil… Hello, James!"

Susan turned around. When she saw James Potter walking towards them, her stomach flipped. His hair was messy, as usual, and he kept playing with it, making it even messier. It was adorable. His uniform was a mess, true, but when wasn't it? The way she saw it, it simply added to his charm. Susan was fascinated by the way James would start out the morning reasonably put together, and then as day progressed, his outfit started to fall apart. He'd start by ditching the outer robes. Then, he'd roll up his sleeves, and loosen up the tie. By dinner time, the aforementioned garment was usually nowhere to be seen, his shirt untucked, his hair an absolute storm.

Susan spaced out for a minute, only barely hearing James ask Lizzy if she had gotten the Arithmancy homework.

Then, she noticed him shift to look at her, and running one hand through his hair, he said, "oh… Huh, Susan, can I get a word?"

"Of course, James," she replied, bashfully batting her eyelashes at him. She got up from her spot at the table, and tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, she asked, "well?"

"Would you maybe want to go out, sometime? Nothing too fancy, you know, it's just that, well, we've been in the same class for the past five years but I realised we don't know each other very well, and I'd like to, um, change that. If you want to."

Oh, he hadn't. Except, well, he had. How in the world…? What had she done to deserve it? It sounded like something out of a dream. At once, Susan noticed that it was extremely cute, seeing James Potter stumble over his words like that.

"Of course! That would be lovely, thank you," she answering, mustering as much poise as she could.

"Cool. I'll see you around?"

"Definitely, we can discuss details another time," replied Susan, smiling at him. A date with James Potter. Wonderful. She was still waiting for her alarm clock to ring.


Later that night, at around three in the morning, if one were to enter the sixth year boy's dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, what one would find, would be this:

Snoring sounds, blond hair peeking out of the covers, a pale, bare, back, riddled with freckles, one dirty sock in the corner, various other pieces of clothing littering the floor, and two dark-haired boys sitting on one of the beds, passing a bottle of liquor between each other.

One of them was James Potter, while the other was Sirius Black, and if there was anything the latter could always count on, was the Hogwarts rumour mill. Apparently, Bertha overheard a conversation between Prongs and Susan, who told Valerie Elwood, who told Mary Macdonald, and eventually, the whole school knew. Potter and Adams. It had a nice ring to it. Not the best, but not terrible.

"So, Susan Adams?"

"I guess you've heard, then?"

"Yeah, I've heard all right. Susan is cute, I'll give you that, and she seems to like you, but why now?"

"I'm moving on," said James, gesturing to himself, taking a swig from the bottle. "This is me, moving on."

"And what caused this sudden urge of empowerment?"

"Nothing in particular." Sirius sent him a pointed look. "But, hypothetically, it could have had something to deal with the fact that Evans seemed awful cosy with that Fenwick bloke at lunch. And hypotethically, that's a good push in the right direction as any, right? And we're friends now, Padfoot. I'd simply be trying to salvage a much cherished friendship. This is all hypothetical, of course."

Sirius opened his mouth, but James cut him off before he could speak, "and a Ravenclaw as well! She was consorting with the enemy! Redheads are treacherous creatures."

"Mate."

"What?"

"You can't possibly be that oblivious."

"What are you talking about?"

"Let's just say that I highly doubt Fenwick's interested in Evans."

"Why do you say that?"

"He's gay, mate."

"No, he's not."

"Yes, he is. He has a boyfriend, for Merlin's sake."

"I… I had no idea."

"Well, you've never been the most observant."

"You don't think I should have asked Susan."

"I think you should do what you think you should do."

"You're being awfully cryptic today, aren't you?"

"Oh, terribly," replied a Sirius, wearing an unnerving smirk with practiced ease. "Pass the Firewhisky, will you?" James did so.

"Have I made a huge mistake?"

"Maybe you have, maybe you haven't. Maybe this is going to be the best decision in your fucking life. Maybe it will be the absolute worst. It's fine. We all fuck up sometimes anyway."

"Some of us more than others."

"Some of us more than others," Sirius agreed.


A/N: Woosh! What a chapter, am I right? Please don't forget to let me know what you thought of it in a review! x