I'm sorry this took so long (almost two weeks), but things are starting to get crazy for me. I'm gone most of tomorrow, all of Sunday, and I can nearly guarantee that I won't be able to update on the 9th, 14th, or 15th. I have 9 chapters left (I managed to shave some off and combine others) and I'll be able to get them all in before DH.

I'm going to a Borders midnight party. What are you guys doing for the release?

Dear Lily,

Contrary to everything I've ever thought, it turns out that doing busy work for McGonagall is a bloody good time and an aphrodisiac. You and I had been addressing and owling invitations to seventh year graduation, and you were actually talking to me. Nothing deep, of course, but there was something deeply satisfying about hearing you complain about McGonagall and Slughorn.

"Ice Princess is being quite chatty today – did someone slip something into your pumpkin juice at dinner tonight? If so, I'd like to know where I could get some; it looks like quite the enjoyable little head rush." Then you punched my arm – quite hard, may I say – and stared at me indignantly.

"How did you possibly get to be Head Boy?"

"Now what do you mean by that, Lily darling?"

You rolled your eyes at the word 'darling', although that was the least of most of your reactions. "I mean that you're rude, reckless, and hardly responsible."

"That may be true, but I'm deliciously attractive."

"No, you're arrogant, and what does being attractive have to do with being a Head?"

"Well, girls'll listen to you if they want to sleep with you."

"James, no one in this school wants to sleep with you."

"That is where you're wrong, dear. And you called me James again." You cursed under your breath and went back to addressing parchment. "You see, it's been proven that the number of girls in detention increases on days when Sirius or I have detention."

"Yes, well, Sirius isn't Head Boy."

"No, he wouldn't be, seeing as he wasn't a prefect. Besides, they like me better anyways."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

I pretended to ignore you. "And I must be at least a bit responsible, seeing as Dumbledore put me in charge of the Order."

"Yet another thing I don't understand."

"Oh, come off it, Lily. You know you were impressed."

You frowned. "Maybe the tiniest bit impressed. But mostly confused."

"I will take it."

You shook your head, looking slightly disgusted. "So what is it, anyways? Are you in charge of the whole Order?"

"Nah, Dumbledore's club, not mine. I was just supposed to recruit possible seventh year members."

"So are we it? The six of us?"

"I don't think so, but I'm not really sure. I think Dumbledore's trying to pull some strings. Call in some favors, talk to some friends. If he does pull in people older than us, what do you bet McGonagall's in?"

"Most likely."

"Most likely? I'd say it's almost a shoo-in. I mean, it's so obvious she's got it bad for him."

"Potter, was that really necessary? That's disgusting."

"It's a shame they're so old – both must be ages past their prime."

"Potter, I swear to Godric that I will slap you if you don't shut up about Dumbledore and McGonagall doing…things." Your face was screwed up and I couldn't help but laugh at you.

"Alright, alright. Could have just said something. So, you asked me a question about the Order; can I ask you something personal?"

"That depends. How personal?"

"What's gotten your knickers in such a twist this year?"

"Pretty personal." You labeled a few more envelopes and I started working again. I assumed I'd gone too far and spoiled everything, but then you started talking. "My parents got divorced, over the holiday break. They told me about it right before I left for school, and I guess, up until Christmas, I'd been hoping they'd decide not to, you know? I mean, I know it's a bit ridiculous of me, it's just that my mum's sick, and my dad's always been the one to take care of her. I suppose he just couldn't do it anymore. Petunia blamed me, of course. She said that if I wasn't coming here and making sparks that dad wouldn't' have had to take care of mum on his own. I almost didn't come back, you know."

"I feel like a prat now."

"You are a prat, James."

"Don't forget thickheaded scallywag toe rag."

"Oh dear, I mustn't forget those."

"Do you like me, Lily?"

"Define 'like.'"

"Do you enjoy my presence?"

"Sometimes, maybe."

"What about my bum?"

"What?"

"I have a delectable bum, you know." I leaned it out towards you and you laughed. "Go on a night picnic with me."

"James, I'm with Wilkes."

"Just as friends."

You thought about it for a moment and then agreed. I can't wait.