Hope you enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 2: Detention and Encounters
"This is too strange."
James checked the clock that hung above the fireplace and heartily ignored the same comment Sirius had been making over and over again that night. It was getting tiring, not to mention annoying. Yes, it was bloody strange, but James was tired of hearing it.
"What are you going to do, Prongsie?" Sirius asked him as he reclined further into his chair. James didn't respond; he was tired of Sirius asking that question, too, so he ticked off the seconds and watched as the hour hand crept ever closer to Eight o'clock.
It was unusual for the common room to be as deserted as it was right then. Usually, after supper, it was much more crowded, everyone piling in the room to work on assignments or to study, and one usually had to vie for a seat. This evening, however, it seemed everyone preferred the library or the dorms. Only James and his mischievous three friends (plus two seventh years and a dozing sixth) occupied the room.
Currently, Sirius laid in a high-back chair while Remus sat at the foot of it using the table before him for all his books and papers-- Remus would be the only of them to study at a time like this. Peter was snoring unbearably loud in the chair across from them. James, however, was too restless to be idle and so took to pacing back and forth.
"James, really mate, what are you going to do?" Sirius asked again. James, at the moment, really hated the way Sirius was smirking. He should be exuding his condolences to James, not taking delight from his' plight. James gritted his teeth.
"I guess what we always do when we get detention," James said a bit caustically. He had been feeling on edge lately-- Sirius' banter wasn't helping it any-- but thankfully James had a good excuse to blame it on.
"But that's different," Sirius replied, spelling Remus' papers to start levitating off the table and around his head. "You're going into this one alone." Remus, looking completely peeved, began snatching the papers floating in the air and grumbling about Sirius and how he wished it was Sirius who had detention-- that way he could at least get some studying done. James found he quite agreed with that.
He wondered if he could find McGonagall and barter his freedom for Sirius' captivity. Surely she would agree to that-- Sirius was the one who had turned her hat into a birds nest (birds and all).
… but Sirius hadn't been the one late to her class, so…
James sighed bitterly as he plopped himself into a free chair. Sirius was grinning at him again and was opening his mouth to, no doubt, ask the same bloody question, when James, fed up, hexed Sirius mouth shut with a silencing charm. Sirius began to mumble through his closed lips and waved his arms about. Remus looked up at Sirius approvingly.
"Why hadn't I ever thought of that before?" Remus mused. Sirius glared at him and tried to kick him. However, Remus' reflexes were too quick for Sirius, and he quickly shifted out of harm's way. Peter let out a rather obnoxious snort just then, but before James could perform the same silencing spell, the clock chimed.
"Dear James," Remus said somberly as he moved his books away from Sirius' still kicking leg, "may the lion lend you its courage." James smiled tightly as he placed a hand over his heart and bowed. The saying wasn't as funny as it usually was, because usually James wasn't the only one it needed saying to.
As he climbed through the portrait hole, he was suddenly pulled back. James whirled around to find Sirius clutching his robes, looking oh so angry. James smiled sweetly as patted his friend's cheek.
"Don't worry for me, Sirius," he said dramatically, "I will return." He yanked his robes from Sirius' hand and scrambled through the hole before Sirius could grab him again. "You better hope I make it through!" James laughed on the other side, "Or else no one will undo that charm. You know everyone prefers you that way." He waved as the portrait of the Fat Lady swung closed on Sirius glaring expression.
Turning around, James felt the smile slip from his face like water. Smiling was effortless to him, anyway, and it was just as easy to be rid of it.
He took his time as he made his way for his transfiguration classroom. He wondered idly what he'd be doing to pass the time. Usually, the teachers would make the Marauders clean up whatever prank they had unleashed and been caught at-- the pranks usually resulting in messes. But tonight James was on his own, and he hadn't been caught at a prank. He'd just been late to McGonagall's class.
That thought always made that feeling incite within him.
Rarely did James ever think that something was unjust. If he and the Marauders got caught at their games, then it was only fair they be punished-- If they couldn't get away clean then they deserved to clean. If he jinxed someone in the hall, it was because they deserved it-- They probably got in James' way or looked at Lily. And if James was particularly harsh with a certain Slytherin than that was perfectly justified-- that Slytherin always deserved it.
But this was ridiculous.
It hadn't been James' fault that he was late. He had been detained, and even though it had been Lily that kept him, James didn't think it was right to blame her. No, it had been something else, something else that had kept him spelled to the spot in the deserted hall. James just didn't know what that was yet, and so the whole situation felt so completely unjust to him.
But he trudged on to his classroom.
He reached his destination and knew his professor was already alerted to his presence. Pushing the door open with a creak, he entered. Sure enough, McGonagall was already coming around the desk with a pile of papers in her hands.
"Glad to see you managed to be prompt this time, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said with a chill severity. James knew better than to mess with his professor when she was this way. No, best he tried to appease her as much as he could without being cloy.
"Yes, ma'am. I don't want another strike against me," James said in defeat as McGonagall handed him the stack of parchment.
"Oh I say we past all the allotted strikes in your first year, James," she said returning to her desk. James smiled. If she was already using his first name than this detention may not be so bad.
"Are these essays I'm helping you grade?" James asked, lazily flipping through some of them. He was disappointed to find that they weren't essays at all but loads and loads of notes. A shame. He would have loved to mark down those Slytherins' papers.
"I need to file through all those by subject matter and then further according to their dates," McGonagall said, picking up a quill and scribing away on her own stack of parchment in red ink. "It seems I let a few things slip from orderliness," she said, James was sure, more to herself. James hoped she became so engaged her own task that she would dismiss him entirely. That way, James could relax more while he set to work on his own mundane, tedious, and utterly boring chore.
He settled into the desk he used during Transfiguration and promptly began sifting and sorting through the pile. After awhile, he realized the surface of his one desk would not be enough for the smaller stacks he was creating, so he scooted three others up against his own.
James was certain eons and eternities had crawled by once he had managed to sort all the notes according to the subject matter-- he had a pile for Switching-Spells, for Untransfiguration, for Animagi transformations, and so on. It was very difficult, however, to stifle the groan that wanted to escape from him when he glanced at the clock floating just behind his professor's bowed head. Only an hour had passed.
He was rather hoping that enough time had passed that he could have return to his dorm for the night, whether the task had been completed or not-- Surely McGonagall was sensible enough not to detain her own student way past his bedtime? However, it was becoming more apparent that James would just have to grit his teeth and get through the injustice.
At least if Pads, Moony, and Wormtail were with him, he wouldn't be so completely bored. And on top of the injustice and boredum, he now had a cramp in his neck. Splendid.
James shuffled through the last papers of the stack, arranged them as they needed to be, raised his arms above his head, and stretched.
"Done at last, Mr. Potter?" came McGonagall. James stifled the yawn that was just escaping and grinned sheepishly.
"It's a shame it's over," James joked.
"Well, if I had only realized it was such an effective means of punishment, I would have used it sooner," she said, peering at him over her square spectacles. James only managed a half smile. "Oh well. There's always the next time." She removed her glasses at looked at him pointedly. "You may go now, Mr. Potter. I trust you will be on time tomorrow." It wasn't just a statement but a subtle promise that she would, indeed, repeat tonight's torture should James blunder again. Inwardly, he grimaced at such a thought, and silently, after one last bow to his professor, left her classroom.
It wasn't until he had ascended three flights of steps that he realized McGonagall hadn't given him a pass of any sort, and nasty Filch was always stalking the corridors at night looking for wandering students. If he was caught… James wondered if McGonagall had forgotten on purpose, but nixed that idea. The lady was getting on in years, and memory fades quicker than youth. James couldn't begrudge her for her faulty memory.
He rounded a corner, happy to find no Filch or Mrs. Norris, and walked under the snoozing portraits. He wondered if anyone would be waiting up for him. Sirius was a good bet. He was probably waiting up for him so James could undo the jinx. Then again, Remus often gave in to Sirius' relentless pouting, so there was a fair chance that Sirius was waiting up just so he could get James.
On second thought, how could James possibly be expected to sleep when his stomach was slightly growling? Turning on his heels, he backtracked through the corridor, headed down to the Entrance Hall, and then down the stairs that would lead him to the Hufflepuff common room. However, instead of turning right, he made a left, and after walking for a few minutes, he found the revered pear painting. He picked the spot, rose his fingers to the canvas, and began tickling the pear. It wriggled and then it swung open.
A warm, smoky smell wafted over to him as he stepped beyond the frame of the picture and into the school kitchen. Most of the house elves were snoozing away in their crib-like beds, but there were still some awake. Two spotted him and quickly made their way over to him, bowing and stumbling the whole time.
"Master Potter!" one exclaimed. His pillowcase attire was soiled with soot and spices, and he twisted them in his hands as if he were embarrassed to be dressed so. "Can we help you, sir?" He looked at him imploringly, and James was happy to oblige.
"Well, I am feeling a bit hungry…" he said, scratching his nose sheepishly. The second of the two beamed at him, her large, yellow, bat-like eyes staring at him gratefully.
"Of course, sir! Dippy and I is glad to cook for you!" She waddled over to one of the large pantries in the back. James chose a seat at one of the replica tables that mirrored the four in the Great Hall while the two house elves whipped him something up. He gazed across the room. How strange would it be…
He stood up and made his way to one of the end tables and sat down. It was a stupid curiosity, anyway. It wasn't like this was the actual Slytherin table (the fact that James was in the kitchen made that obvious), but James wanted to see how it felt to be on the opposite side of where he normally sat, where he normally stood.
But it was a stupid curiosity because the only thing he ended up feeling was the grumbling of his stomach.
"Ah! Here we is!" the boy house elf cried, placing a bowl before James.
"Eat up, please, sir!" the girl one squeaked. They disappeared into the room where the beds were kept and left James by himself. The soup was simple, but it smelled so good. Besides, the house elves didn't have to go out of the way (not that it was out of their way; James just liked the idea of sounding chivalrous), and James was grateful, nonetheless.
When the soup was completely gone (the house elves were so pleased that James had eaten every last drop), he was sent on his way with a piece of toast. James didn't know if the bread was some kind of farewell gift, but he accepted happily. He left the coziness if the kitchen, deciding that surely Sirius had either given up his stakeout or had gone to bed.
Clearing the stairs up to the Entrance Hall, James made to head to the seventh floor when he thought he heard something. Fearing it was Filch (and inwardly cursing that he didn't have his invisibility cloak), he darted across the hall and ducked behind the statues guarding the oak front doors. He peered around the shoulder of the statue cautiously. What he should really be on the look out for was the damn cat of Filch's.
A shadow emerged from the stairs leading from the dungeons. It crept around and up the Grand Staircase. James watched as it ascended the steps and disappeared from view. James certainly wasn't going to cower behind a statue all night long, and really! Best he keep an eye on the shadow from behind rather than it sneaking up on him.
James followed after the shadow carefully, at least until he could get to the seventh floor (the shadow was most likely Filch; it did have that weird hunched posture like the caretaker). James searched the floor while also keeping an eye on Filch. That sneaky cat was sure to be around her master. As long as James kept out of the cat's sight, he'd keep out of Filch's. The worrisome thing, though, was that he couldn't seem to locate any figure remotely resembling a cat.
He shouldn't even be looking for anyone or skulking around in darkness. And he wouldn't be in this mess if not for that detention (James couldn't say it was him going to the kitchen; he had needed food), and he wouldn't have received that detention if not for…
It was really all Snivellus' fault. Because he was so pathetically… pathetic, it made Lily feel sorry for him, and because of that, of course she wouldn't have found James' prank funny! Then she wouldn't have lectured him, and then James wouldn't have felt so… Damn Snivellus!
While lost in thought, James also lost site of the shadow. He panicked for a second when he realized Filch had disappeared, but rather than remain frozen and assuredly getting caught, he continued to go up the steps. Finally, he reached the seventh floor. He kept looking back to make sure Filch wasn't tailing him, but didn't see any sign of him.
As he crossed the floor, there came a strange hissing sound. He thought it odd but continued on anyway. As he neared the foot of the stairwell leading to the Gryffindor tower, the hissing became louder. He tiptoed up the steps wandering if he was stupid for willfully walking up towards such strange noises when the hissing stopped. Instead, voices emerged.
He braced himself against the curving wall and sidled along it as he climbed higher.
"I know that." The voice belonged to a girl, one that, even muffled, was distinctive as being Lily's. James stopped.
"You don't, though," another said. It was too low for James to know who it belonged to.
"This is why you called me out so late? For this?" James found it strange to hear such a tone coming from Lily on the non-receiving end of it-- it was usually reserved only for him.
"You didn't use to mind so much," the other replied. James was positive that it, at least, belonged to a guy. Why was Lily up talking to another guy besides James?
"That was before I had to spend all my time studying for the O.W.L.S.," she answered back tersely.
"No, it's because of him," the other spat.
"Oh please! Stop being so presumptuous," she demanded curtly. Yes, it was indeed bizarre to hear Lily so miffed with anyone besides James. And why was he feeling so jealous about it?
"When did you start lying so much?" he asked, his voice a strange, low hissing.
"About the same time you did," she retorted.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You can figure it out while I go back to sleep," she replied with a finality that would have even made James shut it. Who was this other person?
Thinking the conversation to be over, James took his chance to head back down the steps if only to avoid running into the other person. Was this the Filch shadow he had been following? Back on the seventh floor, he took refuge in a shadowy corner that left him a perfect view of the stairs. Whoever it was wouldn't remain a mystery long. James wracked his mind of all the guys Lily had close-ish ties with. James was number one, of course, followed by Sirius; Remus; Fred Longbottom; that Ravenclaw nerd, Allen; and… that was really about it (besides some of the teachers like Dumbledore, Slughorn, and Ol' Flitwick). So was that Allen then?
The figure finally came into view. James focused on him. When he really thought about it, the way the guy walked… something about it seemed… familiar…
James narrowed his eyes, squinting in the dark to discern who the shadow-man was. The way it crept-- It was so skittish-like…
James stomach dropped, and he gasped out loud. He covered his mouth but too late. The familiar figure stopped in his tracks, and James could tell he was looking over in his direction.
No. No way. It couldn't possibly be--!
"I know you're there," Snape hissed, hunching down even lower. James remained where he stood, not believing what he was seeing. Anger began worming its way up through his gut and then throughout him, making his heart surge forcefully. How could Lily?
"I said I know you're there!"
James stepped out of the shadows nonchalantly, his hands in his pockets, a smile on his face. Snape tensed at the sight of him. James wondered what would Snape have done if James had been Filch? Then he smiled, thinking that if that had been the case, Snape would have been very fortunate.
"Out of your lair? And at this time of night?" James asked walking closer, his slow footsteps echoing in the corridor.
"I could ask the same of you?" Snape whispered venomously. James shook his head and pulled his hand out of his pocket. Snape, with the reflexives of a paranoid viper, pulled out his wand, aiming it directly at James. James stopped and with his hand, rubbed his stomach.
"Afraid I was out getting food from the kitchens," James smiled. "What's your excuse?" he asked, his tone dropping in volume, becoming a deadpanned whisper. Snape didn't say anything. He just held his wand steady. James was certain Snape knew what he was getting at or else Snape wouldn't have that expression on his pallid face.
"You know…. I have a theory about you," Snape said to him, a confidence that James didn't like gleaming in his beetle-black eyes. "I'm touched that you seem to be thinking of me. That-- and I'm disgusted," James replied, pocketing his hand again.
"Not as much as I am."
"I said I'm dis-gust-ted, not disgus-ting," James stated, leaning forward and raising his voice slightly. "You must not have heard me, or else you wouldn't have just insulted yourself. Then again," and he straightened, grinning maliciously, "--maybe even you realize how unsightly you are." Snape stared at him for a moment. He was probably working out the great insult James had thrown his way. At any moment, Snape would either seethe, convulse, or curse him. Maybe all three! Wouldn't that be amusing…
Snape, instead, smiled ruthlessly.
"That's right," came his voice, and he lowered his wand. "Keep proving me right, Potter," he said. What? What does he mean?
"Snivellus…" James said, clucking his tongue in disappointment, "Why do you insist on the impossible? You being right? Thinking you can someday beat me?" Then he narrowed his eyes. "Lily?" Snape's eyes widened just a fracture then his lip curled.
"Do you ever have the slightest clue about what you're talking about?" Snape asked him. What kind of question was that? Of course he did! How could he have asked such a thing when he has never once bested James at anything? "No, I suppose not."
He looked at him for a second more before pocketing his wand. Then he walked towards James. James didn't react; he didn't have to. There was no way that Snivellus could outdo James. At anything. Snape stopped right beside him, and without turning to look at him he said, "Tell me, what did Evans make of your… little stunt earlier?" And without an answer, he walked off.
It wasn't until James could barely hear the muffled footsteps of Snape that he tore off after him. He ran down the corridor before overtaking Snape and stopping right in front of the Slytherin. Snape didn't even act surprised, more like he knew James was going to come after him. That made James even more angry.
Something in his stomach bubbled caustically, burning in him like sulfuric acid.
"You didn't give me the chance to ask you what your theory was," James said. Snape observed him emotionlessly, his eyes unreadable.
"What did the sorting hat ever say to you?" he asked evenly. James straightened reflexively, an intake of breath sounding in the silence between him and Snape.
"Why?" James asked darkly. Snape lifted his chin and stared at James as if the answer to James' question should be obvious. "Why?" he repeated.
"That's my theory," he said simply. James had had enough of the pointless banter. If Snape wasn't going to elaborate, that meant he had no theory. And if he had no theory, then he was wasting James' time. He pulled out his wand.
"Maybe I should hex you. Seal your mouth up so nobody would ever have to hear you again," James said lightly. Snape pulled out his own, gnarled wand. "Honestly, Snivellus? Think you can take me?" James chuckled a little.
They stared at each other, their wands drawn, raised leveled with each other's chests.
Snape was opening his mouth to spell a curse, James preparing himself for a counter, when Filch rounded the corner. James froze. Both he and Snape watched as Filch limped down the hall, a small lantern in his hand. He was muttering to himself and reading from a parchment, oblivious to the two boys' presences. Silently, both boys lowered their wands and crossed to a shadowed side of the hall.
Filch drew nearer, his lantern held up close to his withered, scowling face, all the while muttering to himself. James and Snape sunk deeper into the shadows, and James realized how close he was to the Slytherin. It was nauseating, but there was nothing he could do.
How despairing was it that left with the option of being discovered by Filch or cowering alongside Snivellus James picked the latter?
Utterly nauseating.
Filch was right upon them, the light of his tiny lantern threatening to expose James and Snape both when Snivellus pulled out his wand.
"Exstinguo," he intoned in a whisper. The light of Filch's oil lamp flickered and blew out.
"Wha--?! WHO'S THERE?" Filch bellowed. James could recognize an opportunity when one presented itself. He crawled out from against the wall as he felt Snape do the same. They snuck behind Filch a small distance away and then they edged along the opposite wall.
"I can hear you breathing, you know!" Filch cried, and James heard the shuffling of clothing. Then he heard the familiar scratch of a match against a coarse surface. Without delay, he ran for the stairwell, and as soon as he reached it, the light flooded the corridor once again.
Without knowing why, James turned his head around. Snape was nowhere to be seen. James kept running, skipping two to three steps at a time. Upon reaching the portrait of a sleeping, fat lady, James breathlessly shouted the password. She blinked down at him blearily and yawned.
"James? What is it now? I'm sleeping," she yawned again. James fidgeted from foot to foot hearing Filch making his way to the stairwell.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah! Just open up!" he demanded as he kept looking behind his shoulder. Why didn't he bring his invisibility cloak? Oh right… detention.
The fat lady opened her mouth in shock, her expression quite aghast. James knew that look.
"Pease!" he shouted.
"I heard you!" came Filch's voice, too close for comfort.
"Please!" James repeated, more desperately.
"Oh alright!" she huffed. Then with a creak, she swung open. James didn't even wait for it to fully open before he squeezed in through the frame and crawled out of the hole. He didn't even stop running once he made it into the common room. He went strait for the stairs and to the fifth year boy's dormitories. Panic forced James to completely disregard courtesy and he flung the door open and then slammed it shut.
Remus awoke with a start while Sirius jump and toppled over the side of his bed. Peter snoozed on.
"… James? What in the---?" Remus asked him drowsily, his eyes still closed tightly, heavy with sleep. James waited for his breath to catch up with him. "Why'd you slam the door?"
"What are you on about, Moony?" James asked, inching to his bed and then quietly crawling in.
"That noise…" Sirius grunted, climbing back into bed sleepily.
"Yeah… what was that?" James asked, looking about the room. Remus rubbed at his eyes and tried to focus on James, but they kept closing instead. Sirius, in the three second silence, had already found enough peace to fall back asleep.
"That was you," Remus said with a tired conviction.
"Moony, you were just dreaming so go back to bed," James said, pulling the covers up over his face. Remus tried to stare at James a bit longer as James could feel his friend's eyes upon him, but instead of protesting, James heard Remus rustling in his bed sheets, never saying another word. It took a minute or so, but finally Remus fell back to sleep.
James' heart continued to race with panic and relief.
That had been so close.
James burrowed his face into his mattress feeling… pathetic. It wasn't that James was afraid of getting caught (how many times have he and the Marauders been given detention?). It was just that Snape had been there. James couldn't be caught alongside Snape. His comrades Sirius, Remus, and Peter, yes! But with Snape? James had run away like a panicked child.
Pathetic.
And it had been Snape who had given them the chance to escape. While James had lost his nerve crouching next to the Slytherin, Snape had remembered that they had the use of magic against Filch. And to top it all off, James had a sneaking suspicion that Snape was feeling… triumphant. He shouldn't, though. If Filch hadn't shown up, there wasn't any way that Snape would have felt any sense of victory.
Then there was the way he had mentioned Lily…
It made something ache and fester in his chest. The thought that Lily and Snivellus were whispering to each other, no matter in anger, was a betrayal to James. Lily had said that Snape had called her out… So that meant she had obeyed his request and saw him. And in the dead of night...
James brought his knees close to his face as he curled up on his side, trying to hide how pitiful he felt under the blankets.
Snape… What had this whole night meant?
He closed his eyes and tried to numb himself. Numb the anger, the resentment, the panic, the pity…
… that unnamable emotion…
With his mind blanking, he soon found enough calmness to finally fall into a restless slumber. He dreamt of the sorting hat hopping on his head, laughing and singing, and just as James was picking up on the lyrics and was about to jump in, the hat stopped. Then it began to eat at his head. James threw it off and ran out of the dining hall. He fled to the Gryffindor tower, but just as he had reached the tower it crumbled away, and he fell into a dark abyss.
Blackness surrounded him as he plunged, but when he focused into the dark, he could see eyes and wide, slit mouths. And they were laughing at him. No, cackling at him. Screeching and screaming and cackling his demise.
He suddenly landed on a cold, stone floor. Water was everywhere. There at his hand was his invisibility cloak. He went to grab it, to cover up, to hide when, as his hand touched it, it shot back from him. It laid still, but then it begun to raise up. Higher and higher it rose until it grew and formed into the cloak figure of a man. The man loomed over James and laughed at him.
James woke up suddenly.
"'bout time you woke up," Sirius said, leaning back. James stared up at a fuzzy Sirius. He grabbed his glasses and put them on. Sirius was looking at him curiously. "You okay, mate?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" James asked, stretching.
"You're all… sweaty," Sirius replied. James felt his brow, and it was, indeed, coated in sweat.
"I'm just hot… I guess," James answered uncertainly. Sirius quirked an eyebrow.
"You guess?"
"Well, I'm not now-- anymore. I must have been when I slept." He kicked off the covers and made a sound of relief. "Gotta air out!" he laughed. Sirius locked James' head between his arm and grinded his knuckles atop James' head.
"Come on. We gotta get breakfast," Sirius said, still punishing James.
"Okay!" James said at he popped his head free of Sirius' clutches. His glasses were knocked askew, so he fixed them and asked Sirius about the whereabouts of dear Moony and Peter.
"Getting breakfast," Sirius said, tossing James his jumper. "Which is where we should be." James laughed and pulled the jumper over his head. He got out of bed and was trying to find his pants when Sirius asked him what he was doing.
"Looking for my pants," he replied, searching under his bed.
"You're-- uh… already wearing 'em."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Yeah…" They looked at each other.
"So… breakfast then?" Sirius stated, thumbing over to the door.
"Right," James said, getting to his feet.
As they walked down the Grand Staircase, Sirius looked over at James.
"I'm not going to ask why you were fully dressed," he sternly proclaimed, and James glanced at him curiously.
"Okay," and they made their way to breakfast where dear Remy had already made them both a plate. It was easy to slip into an easy conversation with his mates. He didn't look for Lily, but he was certain she was looking at him. He ignored her and spooned himself some porridge. Sirius and Remus soon got into an argument about vampires and whether or not they ate people's brains, and James lost himself to thought.
Why had he been sweating? He Didn't remember dreaming or even falling asleep. He probably did just have too many covers on while he slept. People had often told him he was hot natured.
He glanced up from the bowl of porridge he'd been staring into.
Snape was looking at him.
And not just looking, smirking.
James straightened.
"That would make them cannibals, Sirius," Remus was saying. "And vampires aren't cannibals. Right, James?" James wasn't paying attention. "Right?" James glanced over to Remus.
"If they drink blood, it's like cannibalism," Sirius stated flatly. "It amounts to the same thing."
"Technically, it doesn't."
"Isn't the whole argument illegit?" James asked. Remus and Sirius stopped arguing and stared at him. "They're technically not human beings anymore, so they can't be cannibals," James said. He went to look over at the Slytherin table, but Snape was looking at him anymore. He was talking to Sirius' younger brother, Regulus.
"I've lost interest, anyway," Sirius said, huffing back into his seat.
"Sure," Remus said disbelievingly, biting into a crunchy piece of toast.
They all fell into a conversation about Slughorn's next party all through breakfast and on their way to their first class. James, the entire time, successfully ignored Lily's blatant staring form behind, still feeling too resentful to approach or acknowledge her.
And again, James knew just who to blame.
When will Snape ever learn his lesson?
The library was filled with fifth year students, each table groaning under the weight of books after books. James meandered by all the little study sessions, wondering how he could have been so thick as to assume that there would be a table open just for him.
"Should we practice it, then? Later?" James heard a fifth year Hufflepuffs ask.
"No, no, no! I'm not going to have hexes thrown at me just so I can practice the Shield Charm," a girl replied.
"It'll probably come up, though. William was saying that when he did his charms test last year, they told him he had to do a shield charm or he wouldn't pass," another girl whispered darkly. The two other Hufflepuffs exchanged brief glances of concern before the first girl bowed her head and consented to a secret Protego practice session.
The attempt of finding a table was proving to be more futile as James went on. Not wanting to waste time, James decided that using an abandoned classroom would suit his needs just as well as a library could.
It wasn't hard to find one either (the third floor was practically forgotten except for Charms class); James picked the less dustiest one and set to work with his books. Despite what people assumed, not everything came easy to James, and History was just one of those obstacles. James liked to think that it was really Binns' fault and not James' because how could James be expected to learn anything when the ghostly professor always put him to sleep? However, James couldn't fall behind, so there he was in an abandoned classroom with several history books scattered about him, his quill at the ready to jot down any useful information.
The light coming in from the window weakened and then darkened as time went on. James was amazed he had been able to gather so many notes in the short span of time. Three pieces of 24 inch parchment was crammed with tiny, black scrawling. He surveyed the window behind him, debating whether or not he had enough time to get a few short rides off his broom before it became too dark and decided that he did.
He summoned all his books towards him and placed them in his bag. He didn't head to the Gryffindor tower to drop off his books, rather he brought them with him to the Quidditch field not wanting to waste any time. He reached the changing rooms, stowed his books in place of his broom he retrieved, and headed out onto the field after grabbing a case filled with each Quidditch ball. He left the snitch in its tiny spot and grabbed the quaffle and the bludger. James took the quaffle in his arms, mounted his broom, and just before shooting upwards, jinxed the bludger.
He soared up and up and then he dropped the quaffle and jinxed it, too, making it fly as it were being passed between invisible players. He swerved on his broom to avoid the bludger made to fly at him and caught the quaffle as it darted back and forth in the air. He sped towards one of the three goal posts, feigned a throw to the center one and then threw it into the one on the left. The quaffle whizzed into the goalposts, stopped, shot back through towards the center of the field, and resumed its wayward bounding.
James spent the hour soaring, catching and throwing quaffles, avoiding the bludger, and having untroubled fun. The upcoming match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw would be an easy one, no doubt about that, even if their newest chaser wasn't on par with James (or anywhere near his skill level). They'd still win. McGonagall would be proud.
James landed softly on the ground, quaffle in tow, and just when the bludger neared him, he removed the jinx, and it fell to the ground with a muffled thud. He stored the equipment back in the case and then put up the case and his broom. As he left the changing room, his bag weighing heavily on his tired shoulder, Lily was waiting for him. He stopped.
"Evening, James," she greeted formally, unlatching her fingers behind her and stepping forward.
"Evening," James returned, shifting the strap on his shoulder to a more comfortable position.
"You always look so confident up on that broom of yours," Lily said. "Then again, you do about everything." James just watched her waiting for her to get the point of this encounter. She looked at him and sighed, obviously realizing that beating around the bush was pointless.
"Listen, the upcoming trip to Hogsmeade-- I was wondering if you… would want to go with me to that new shop that's just opened up. You know, the potions emporium?" At the mention of "potion," James felt a renewed surge of bitterness. Lily stared at him, her brows furrowed together.
"Can't," James said simply. Lily nodded her head slowly.
"Oh, alright then," she said, looking, dare James think it?, slightly crestfallen.
"It's just that we're all skipping the trip to practice for the Quidditch match," James explained further.
"That's right. It's coming up next week." She smiled and James felt the bitterness get melted away a little. "You know it's going to be no competition," Lily stated, smirking mischievously. James smiled despite himself, the girl was just too adorable.
"The point now is to make it at least interesting for the spectators," James grinned. "But don't worry. I've been working on a few tactics that are sure to amaze even you, Evans," James told her. She laughed, her voice so light in the chilled night.
"We'll see," she giggled. She looked at the ground then, her red hair falling slightly into her face, and James had to force himself from reaching towards her and tucking it behind her ears. "I'm glad," she said quietly. James had to lean forward because he couldn't hear her so well. What had she said? She was mad? What about this time? If anything it should be James who--
"I thought you… weren't really talking to me," she said, looking up at him. James straightened reflexively and felt himself blush a little from the closeness to her face.
"What are you on about," he said, not looking at her.
"You've been ignoring me these past two days," she said. James didn't say anything, but he was sure Lily would take his silence as an affirmation. "I'm pretty sure I know why, though." James looked at her curiously. "You're brilliant, James," she said, her cheeks flushing, and it made James' heart speed up. "You know that. It's just that sometimes… I don't always get why you abuse your… cleverness."
James blinked stupidly.
"I know you and Sirius thought you were so funny with that prank and all, but I just won't ever understand it," she went on. James narrowed his eyes.
"Because it was Snivellus who was at the mercy of it?" James asked her, his tone even despite his frustration. She shook her head, her hair billowing slightly.
"That's not a fair statement," she said.
"How's that not a fair question?"
"Because Snape is the only one who you do that stuff to," she said with a edge to her voice. "But I'd be upset if those things were done to anyone. Would you do pull those pranks on me?" she asked, looking at him angrily.
"You know I wouldn't ever--" James tried.
"How am I supposed to assume that?" she went on.
"Have I ever?" James retorted.
"Not yet," she said simply.
"Not yet?" James repeated. James sighed. Budging was the only way now to soothe Lily. "I'll admit I poke fun at others, but I wouldn't ever do them on--"
"People you like?" Lily finished flatly.
"Exactly," James said, smiling. At last, she's gotten it. But Lily's anger slipped away into a saddened expression. It confused James.
"Why would you make a point to belittle those you dislike?" she asked softly. It happened rarely (though it was occurring more frequently in the past weeks), but James begrudging Lily's presence at the moment. Did she a point to wait on him just so that she could lecture him. And then he thought about the question Snape put to him. What did Evans make of your… little stunt?
"Look, Evans, it's late and I wanna make it in time for supper," James said harshly. She looked at him, her brilliant, green eyes widening. "If this is all you came out here to say then you've wasted my and your time." He walked off, leaving her to stand alone.
And to answer you question, Lils, James thought darkly as he made his way to the Gryffindor tower, It's because I hate him so much that he deserves it.
A/N: I really do love writing to this story (whenever I can find time or make time). Severus is my hands-down favorite character from the canon (how anyone can't like him is beyond me), so I hope to do him justice. Merlin knows he didn't receive much of it in the canon (Poor Sev...). Anywho, I hoped you liked it!