Through Green Eyes, Chapter Three.

"Jealousy: turning saints into the sea." ~Mr. Brightside, The Killers, Hot Fuss.

"It doesn't take much convincing to make someone believe they're better than everyone else." -Shay, Specials, Scott Westerfeld.

"I discovered that my castles stand upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand." ~Viva la Vida, Coldplay, Death and All His Friends.

"Had Scarlett been possessed of such anger, she would have been stamping both feet and roaring like Gerald in his finest days, calling on God to witness the accursed duplicity and knavishness of mankind and uttering blood curdling threats of retaliation. But only by the flashing needle and the delicate brows drawn down her nose did Melanie indicate that she was inwardly seething... Scarlett realized suddenly that the Wilkeses and the Hamiltons were capable of furies equal to and surpassing those of the O'Haras." -of Melanie Hamilton Wilkes, Gone With the Wind, Margaret Mitchell

"Everything I need is denied me. Everything I want is taken away from me. And who have I got to blame? Nobody but me." ~The Good Life, Weezer, Pinkerton


I soon discovered that in the end I retained considerably less than I had first estimated. It still didn't make sense to me why everything was trying to change. At first, it seemed like that one emotional glimpse of mine was just that- a glance. A glance is something you turn away from, to be forgotten. One day you might wonder over it, but glances don't haunt you, and they don't last. But now, somehow, it was as if some cruel someone had taken a magnifying glass to myself and my emotions.

That's the weird thing about life. You can't think or feel anything other than what you think and feel right now. All you have left are those memories. And I don't recall ever feeling so... complex. Dimensional. Confused.

Life used to be simple. Just be cheerful, carefree, and self-proud. Be a comedian, or an actor, and astound and revel in the audience's reaction. But now! Last night was so strange. Instead of feeling like I was slightly curbing myself, it took struggle to get myself in shape. To act and respond and accept. Now my life was more like a burden than beautiful.

It must be teenager-ness or something. Stupid chemicals. Surely we don't have to go through this; I mean, come on! We're wizards! Why do we have to suffer like muggles? Not that I have anything against muggles, but I'm just saying: Magic is supposed to make life easier. It would be a helluva lot easier if magic could prevent change.

Here's a memory related to this, completely internal:

Ah, exceedingly ambitious. Cunning, too. You'll do anything to get what you want. You're certainly-

****, no! I screamed. I don't swear (well, I didn't when I was eleven), but you can't censor your thoughts.

A little rebel, huh? Well, clearly there's no where else but...

Look at that. So simple. A little bit of anger, and a little bit of hope. Now, it takes me a million trains whisking by before a thought settles in my hands. So despicable, these hormones are.

But other people deal with them just fine, even the girls, so surely I, James Sirius Potter, can handle this, right? I can deal. Then again, are they as tormented as I? Aunt Hermione once said that some muggles have a limit on children. Good for them! Siblings are trouble, nothing more nothing less. Rose wouldn't agree with me, of course. She just loves Hugo, even though she's tired of being compared to him. But she's blinded by affection. And anyway, Rose doesn't agree with me on much anymore.

Albus had the audacity to address me in the common room. I was just lounging with me friends, trying to incite a sense of naturalness and belonging within me, when he came up to me and said, "Rose wants to talk to you" and indicated that he wanted to confer with me privately. I accepted his request, giving my friends a look like 'ugh, firsties' and telling them I'd be back in a minute.

A bit aside of the other groups, Albus said, "She said that she thought you guys should find some time to spend with each other, since you aren't going to be seeing her in the Common Room or anything like that."

"I don't want to talk to her," said I with an unpleasant lurch in my stomach.

"...What?"

"She's a Slytherin!"

"She's your cousin!" Those green eyes were filled with something I had never seen before, not in those ocular devices that alternated between trust and fear and joy. Never had Albus ever talked back to me before.

"Exactly! I can see her during the holidays!"

Green eyes; they were driving me crazy. As perhaps you could tell, the unknown generally has that effect on me. "You..." Lids flickered over them as Albus took a deep breath, and then finished with a calm whisper, "I'm sorry for bothering you, James," before turning around and walking out of the portrait hole. Finally, my thirst was quenched, and I knew; but this might have been when I first realized that satisfaction does not always satisfy. It was disgust. It was disappointment. And Albus never bothered me in the common room again. ...Rose, however, did not have such reservations.

It is Hogwarts tradition for Gryffindors and Slytherins to have double potions. That did not disturb me, for Rose is two years younger anyway. However, I did not anticipate the possibility of first-year potions directly preceding third-year. But alas, it did, and Albus had had ample time to discuss me along with the rest of his petty problems. So, of course, she was waiting for me when I came, ready to give me a piece of her mind.

"Hey, Jamsie," she said sweetly, but suspiciously so. I swear, being Slytherin is already taking its toll on her.

"Hi, Rose," I replied stiffly. "Won't you be late to class?"

She waved a little slip of paper in her hand. "Nah, I've got a late pass."

Curiosity piqued, I couldn't resist asking. Not once in my three years had I been able to devise a way to coax a late pass out of the Potions Master, and here she was on her first day in class! "How?"

"With my Slytherin wiles, of course," she said briefly flashing an ironic smile. "Got a problem with that?"

"Unfortunately, it is not the time or place to discuss this right now," I hissed furiously, wanting to escape or die, which is really the same as escape. My friends would be coming any moment, and dozens of passersby had already seen us.

Her silky tone immediately became normal, the Rose I knew and loved. "So, James, when would you have us discuss this? Over the holidays? At times of extreme necessity?"

Not willing to cope with this and not expecting her to have the capacity to understand my reasoning any more than Albus, I evaded the query altogether. "Look, Rosie, this has been fun, but I'm standing in front of the door to my class and I'm still going to be late."

"Fine," she said pleasantly. "I'll be seeing you around. Don't doubt me there!"

I stumbled (gracefully, of course) into the classroom and to my seat, also deliberately chosen. Not too close in the front so that I would be a teacher's pet, not too far in the back so that I would be eclipsed from view. I automatically acknowledged the arrival of fellow classmates with a nod or pointed ignorance (Gryffindors or Slytherins) as I reviewed our conversation. Her last words disturbed me the most. Don't doubt me there! was something she used to say before yesterday. It was chilling to hear those four familiar words spoken from this radically different creature.

Also traditional, but perhaps not as much as G-S Potions, was to pass notes during class. Apparently Professor Slughorn would have permitted talking, but unfortunately, he had retired a decade ago. So instead, we made do with the corpses of trees. What happened last night? was passed to me. All of our notes were discreet so that if they were picked up, we could quickly think up a plausible, unembarrassing, and usually innocent alibi, such as "He missed the feast due to feeling a bit off-weather, so he wanted to know who had gotten sorted where and what announcements were made" in this case.

What are you suggesting? I don't have the authority to make my own decisions? (If caught, an excuse could be: "They were merely questioning my decision to use a silver knife rather than an aluminum.")

No, we just wondered if you were planning on retaining it. ("They were encouraging me to focus on my potion so I could retain a high grade.")

Meaning? ("I was confused by the wording in the directions.")

You were seen before class. ("I confess; I had tried to start my potion early.")

Ah. ("He had cleared up a misunderstanding over the potion we are brewing.")

You seem to be pretty friendly, calling her 'Rosie' and letting her call you 'Jamsie.'

It happened to be this note that was picked up and read to the class. I blushed and said innocently, "Just friendly teasing, Professor." Of all of the slips he could have found, he just had to pick the one that wasn't related to potion-brewing! Hopefully his occasionally romantic views would serve as a sufficient replacement for flattery.

They certainly seemed to. We were given a stern look, but passed on without further comment than "Well, you'll have time for such things after class, boys." However, after class there was no discussion. We still hung out, but the messages had made the necessity for my estrangement very clear.

Scorpius did grace us with his presence every once in a while, at which times the group (not including me) would treat him with the deference that used to be mine. He floated through his first days at Hogwarts with enviable ease. Although he was bombarded with both the pressure of being hated by many and of being addressed by a higher order, he did not show it. There was no curbing. He did not fit in, but he made no pains to. He did not please all, but he made no plans to. And for this, I envied him.

Rose and Scorpius and Albus: the Slytherin and the should-be Slytherin and the should-be Hufflepuff. All of them seemingly intent on usurping me. That first attempt of Rose's was by no means a last attempt. Every Thursday after her class and before mine, by her insufferable insistence, we had conversation. Sometimes I directed them: they were short and irritated so I could pass quickly on to class. But other times, I was putty in her hands: I would lose myself and my guarded exterior to the private place in the Burrow's attic where we used to collaborate. But never was outside the door of Potions a private place, and no matter which course the conversation took, each week it was further evidence of my blasphemy.

And every week as my weakness became apparent, Scorpius and Albus became more admirable in the eyes of the Gryffindors. They, like the rest of the lot, had no troubles, and they knew it and acted upon it. I was trying frantically to fit in, groping the sides of the cliff to stop my free fall, but to no avail. Everyone in school has a crush, right? Well, it used to be so that I was the subject of them (the girls, I mean). But now they released themselves and fluttered away. Were they looking past the exterior and finding that what lies within disgusts them? Or do have they simply grown to despise the exterior?

Or perhaps it was just the superiority of the pair, Albus and Scorpius. Albus had Mom and Dad, wrote to them every week happy letters detailing his lovely, friend-filled life. Scorpius had some interminable interior strength that I could not admire due to my stubborn longing. But returning to the not so admirable Albus... My issues never ceased with him. At least before, I had something to keep me from that gap in my life that represented my parents. They, whom I longed to be loved by as unconditionally as they did he and Lily, could not look past green eyes or gender. So I turned from them, replaced them with the unconditional respect and companionship (not quite love) of my peers. I had even once reveled in Albus' affections.

How silly I had been to question the amount of my remaining wealth. Clearly, as the first-years flood in, I have absolutely nothing.


A/N: Poor, stupid James. Special mention to Shadrac, who all of you have to thank for this new chapter. Now, back to the drawing board.

But I wouldn't forget to put in a special mention to my reviewers, now would I?

hushpuppy: Mmhm, the "true prat" returns! Well, I wouldn't call him manipulative, actually, unless your definition encompasses manipulating himself. The first statement of Ch 2 wasn't meant to be a description of his past acts- more like a cold and unsympathetic statement. Cold-hearted- Yeah, I suppose one could say that. He's tried so hard to shut himself off. What would a character be without flaws, right?

mjmusiclover: :)

Sammi: My dear unsigned reviewer! I worry about losing you, since without a fanfiction account you haven't Story Alert, PM, Review Reply, etc. I hope you don't lose this story! Ah, yes. John Green. Later in the story, I wonder if some Paper Towns quotes would be relevant?