James had been in Dumbledore's office in almost every situation possible. He'd been there bleeding, covered in ink, and protruding vibrant peacock feathers. Whether it be yelling in indignation, laughing hysterically, or silently accepting a punishment, James had done it. Dumbledore's office was a place of familiarity, at contrast with most students' view of it.

However, this was a new situation.

He was in his pajamas, which in itself wouldn't be that odd, but he was heavily bandaged and holding a flask of some thick metallic-tasting liquid in his hand. Madam Pomfrey had insisted that he drink the entire thing during the meeting, though she was not there to supervise, rather she had been instructed to remain outside the office to wait. Ever since he'd collapsed, she was convinced he was extremely unhealthy and was forcing him to consume vast amounts of nutritional supplements and regenerative potions. His calf had been so mangled and infected that he could barely move it, but Pomfrey had assured him that wouldn't last.

On his left was Sirius, and Snape sat to his left. He was in a similar situation as James, pajamas and all. Dumbledore had pulled them out of the hospital wing and Sirius out of a Quidditch match (Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw) for a discussion of some "unknown" topic. The Headmaster hadn't entered yet, and, though normally James would be chatting with Sirius, he couldn't think of anything adequate to say. Snape mostly scowled with James and Sirius glanced at each other from the corner of their eyes.

"My office seems to be in the same condition I left it in. Very unexpected."

James had a feeling that Dumbledore practiced entrances like that- very sudden and silent, just so he could be all that more impressive. Not that James minded- it was better than the jolting slam of a door that McGonagall gave out when she was about to lecture you. All the same, James couldn't bring himself to smile at the Headmaster's comment.

Dumbledore sat down across from them, his body moving very fluidly for an old man. James could barely remember his own father moving that smoothly. For a moment the blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles just pierced into each of them, making them all aware just how serious this conversation was to become.

"Mr. Black"-Sirius stared back, unabashed-"I've had the entire day to consider what had happened. The truth of the matter is that this is your fault. I see a great amount of potential in you, Sirius. You are not set to become the people that your parents have become, cruel and thoughtless for others. Do not voluntarily walk down that path."

Sirius swallowed and looked down, the shame visible on his face. James knew what had changed this sudden change in attitude- the comparison to his parents. He wanted to object to Dumbledore bringing them up at all, but stopped when Sirius nodded in agreement.

"I know what I did was wrong."

"That may very well be, but have you actually apologized to Mr. Snape? You at least owe him that."

Sirius looked like Dumbledore was asking him to snog Slughorn, but James nudged him with his foot and gave him a pointed look. Rolling his eyes, Sirius gritted his teeth and mumbled, "I'm sorry, Snape." Snape looked equally as revolted.

"Although I'm sure that was punishment enough, I've arranged for you to have detention for the rest of the term, completing-"

"What?" Snape and Sirius said in unison.

"Detention? That's it? He's not going to be expelled!"

"For the rest of the term?"

"Professor, he almost killed me, and he's going to get away with it by scrubbing toilets and polishing trophies? You think this an apt punishment for attempted murder?"

"Oh, shut up- the rest of the term?"

"Yes, Mr. Black, every day for the remainder of the year. You'll report to McGonagall's office every day at eight o' clock where she will give you instructions. And do not think I do not understand the severity of what has happened here, Mr. Snape. Lives could have been not only ruined, but they could have completely disappeared. However, I cannot in good conscience expel Mr. Black. Do not give me reason to, Mr. Black, because this is your last warning. I do not use that term loosely."

Sirius nodded, resigned. Snape looked about ready to burst, but didn't dare to protest anymore under Dumbledore's gaze. For the first time, James wondered why he was there. He would say he was going to be rewarded, but surely that didn't require him to come to the Headmaster's office? Was he about to get punished as well?

"Mr. Snape," Dumbledore said, shifting slightly in his chair, "you are not to tell anybody or any conscious being about Remus Lupin's condition. You will swear to secrecy- no one else is to ever know. You can imagine how wide-spread knowledge would harm his future, and that would be dreadful for a boy of such potential. Do you understand?"

It was James and Sirius' turn to be outraged. Both of their mouths dropped open, aghast at their Headmaster's sudden stupidity.

"That's it?" James asked disbelievingly before he could stop himself. "He has to swear to you? He's just going to turn around and spread the word around the school as soon as he's out of earshot, Professor! He-"

"Unlike some people," Snape said loudly, "I actually have morals that I live my life by."

"Oh, like calling your only friend foul names-"

"Calm down," Dumbledore ordered. He did not yell or raise his voice in any way, but all three of them heard it and shut up. Snape's face was bright red, Sirius was grinding his teeth, and James sat between them, taking a large gulp from his flask to give his mouth something to do besides curse.

"I must confess, I have only seen a handful of students pass through this school with as much hatred for the other as you three. You all insist on focusing on your differences, but it is your similarities that require focus now. Breaking boundaries gives us strength, not drawing them. But you all have heard this speech before- your resilience to it only shows how willing you are to give in to loathing." He fixed each of them with a stare. "You are not about to change now."

"Lines have already been drawn," James said impulsively. "I don't trust him with Remus' secret."

"You'll have to learn to. I trust that Mr. Snape will stick to his word." Dumbledore looked expectantly at Snape, James and Sirius eventually following suite.

"I swear," Snape said monotonously. "I won't tell anybody."

"Excellent," Dumbledore declared. "You'll be serving detention as well with your own Head of House, though for a rather lesser sentence of three weeks. With that being said, yourself and Mr. Black may leave."

Sirius rose, looking back and forth between the Headmaster and James; he shrugged, making it clear that he had no idea. Snape didn't seem as interested- he made for the door as quickly as his battered body would let him. Sirius followed him, curiously glancing back at James as he closed the door behind him as casually as possible.

"Mr. Potter- no doubt you're wondering why I instructed you to stay behind. Don't worry, you're not in any trouble. I am actually very proud of you, and I know your mother would be too..."

That familiar feeling of guilt, regret, fury, and despair sunk deep into his stomach at the mention of his mother, but he nodded in thanks nonchalantly. He ruffled his hair, slightly, and tapped his foot in preparation for an unwelcome conversation.

"In any case, your father is proud. I owled him as to your heroics, and he said that you couldn't have been more of a Potter that night. But he remains concerned..."

James ground his teeth together briefly. "Meaning?..."

"Meaning that Professor McGonagall has contacted your father as to your recent behavior, and she was quite right to do so. You've been skipping class, which isn't exactly a recent development, but even an old man such as myself has heard the rumors. Your brawls in Hogsmeade have attracted quite an interest. And Professor McGonagall informs me she has reasons to suspect that drugs are involved."

Lying wasn't exactly an option with Dumbledore, at least not if you wanted him to believe you. James stayed silent, concentrating on blinking at normal intervals. Dumbledore seemed to read him anyway, though, as he stared at James disapprovingly.

"Your father is worried, and he has plenty of reason to be. Several other students have been affected during these times, and I've brought in professional help. Healer Drake is a certified psychologist, and she's volunteered to help support students for the rest of the year. Your father requests that you join this group."

"No," James said without thinking about it, shame permeating throughout every cell in his body. These students that Dumbledore was talking about had probably had their families or loved ones ripped away from them by Death Eaters or Voldemort himself, might be lucky to be alive themselves, and James couldn't stand the thought of admitting to a group of his peers that he wasn't strong enough to handle a death that had happened relatively peacefully and naturally, that he had known was going to occur for three years.

"It's not so much of a request as it is an order, Mr. Potter. After March 27, you'll be free to see it as a suggestion, but until then, I'm afraid its mandatory."

James' stomach dropped. He was still sixteen, and until his birthday, his dad could make any decision he wanted about him, especially if it pertained to his "well-being". He drank more of the potion to give himself time to think.

"If you would prefer, private sessions could be arranged," Dumbledore said. "Your father did not specify, most unfortunately." James nodded eagerly, swallowing the last of the concoction. "Excellent. You are to meet Healer Drake in formally abandoned classroom on the fifth floor, next to the statue of Morgana- I'm sure you're familiar with it, correct?- on Mondays at seven. And Professor McGonagall has given you detention for skipping her class on Thursdays until further notice. I trust you'll be far too occupied to sneak into bar fights, yes?" Dumbledore grinned slightly, before gesturing towards the door. James understood, having been given the signal to leave many times before, and stood shakily.

His hand was on the door knob when he heard Dumbledore's voice behind him.

"How many tests do you suppose you've passed in your years at Hogwarts, James?"

He turned, his eyebrows furrowed. "Twenty-seven," James responded sarcastically. "I keep count."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Make it twenty-eight, then, Mr. Potter."

James left the hospital wing Monday morning- Snape had to stay at least another day, so Remus' secret was safe until classes for sure. To sufficiently head him off, James told the first student he saw in the hallway (Lizzy Bennet, coincidentally) about a supposed epic duel that had occurred between him and Snape. He made up the details along the way, showing her the scar on his calf as an indicator of Dark Magic, and had her fully convinced by the time he reached his Transfiguration class.

When he entered the classroom, a quick succession of whispers resonated. McGonagall tried to keep teaching as usual, but failed rather dismally. James took an open seat by Peter, Remus at least attempting to take notes in front of him. He scanned the blackboard, read "The First Fundamental Theory of Transfiguration", and then turned back to his mates.

"Pomfrey is mad. You weren't that banged up," Sirius said, scribbling something on parchment that suspiciously looked like it wasn't notes- the hangman in the corner had been a giveaway. Peter rolled his eyes, dipping his quill in ink to draw an arm on the stick figure. "Did you ask her if you could leave on Sunday?"

James nodded, not really in the mood to talk. Lizzy had taken up all his energy, it seemed, and he suddenly wanted to be alone more than anything after a forced seclusion for days.

"Well, what happened?" asked Peter.

"She said no, obviously," James answered curtly. "Otherwise I would've been there, wouldn't've I?"

Peter shrugged, but he was clearly annoyed. He drew another limb on the parchment in response to Sirius' guess, but the game came to a sudden halt. Sirius scribbled something on a separate sheet of parchment, throwing it over Peter's head. James caught it almost reflexively, jamming it in his pocket as McGonagall looked over. The art of note passing was always unsafe compared to frantic whispers, enough so that despite James' sullen mood, his curiosity was sparked.

McGonagall continued writing on the board. James unrolled the parchment, keeping it underneath the desk as he read.

Moony doesn't know he banged Snivellus up. He knows about you but Snape was a bit worse off. I didn't want Moony to know how close it really was. Told him that the Willow got Snape, that he only really got a glimpse of him in full form. He bought it, so we're sticking with it

James glanced at Sirius, nodding in comprehension as he tapped the parchment with his wand. It slowly burned underneath the desk, the ashes blending in with the stone floor. He dropped it at the last second, smothering any remaining flame with his foot.

Normally, James would reject lying to his mates for any reason, but this was different. Remus didn't deserve to know how close he'd been to taking a life, how close he'd been to becoming a murderer. James knew that his friend still felt guilty about attending Hogwarts and letting the other three risk Azkaban for him- if Remus knew, the damning stain of Snape's blood would never wash away.

"Shame, really, that she didn't let you out," Peter whispered, as if nothing had happened. "Evans' party was actually fun. Dorcas planned it, obviously, but Evans let her, which is something-"

"Mr. Pettigrew! Refrain from gossiping to Mr. Potter and pay attention, will you? I should think that your grade in my class is enough of an incentive for you to listen."

"Sorry, Professor...so anyway, Dorcas had everyone play seven minutes in heaven, right? And Lily's against it and all, but Dorcas made her come around to it. So I ended up in a closet with Amanda Grey of all people. I thought she didn't want to snog me or anything, 'cause she's going out with that bloke in Hufflepuff who's Head of the Gobstones Club, but I was wrong. She went at me for the full time!"

"Congrats, Wormtail, for the sixth time. Now, can I listen to the lecture?" Remus half-whispered, still facing the blackboard.

"Oh, Moony, don't be such a wanker," Sirius said. "We haven't even got to my eight and half minutes with Marlene McKinnon."

"Mr. Black! Do not disrupt my class any further!"

"Sorry, Professor... anyway, eight and half minutes! She couldn't stop herself."

"Mate, Dorcas lost the timer."

"Either way, she was still enjoying herself so bloody much that she wasn't counting. Though I suppose she was a bit smashed. Dorcas might hate my every breath, but didn't stop her from letting us smuggle in Firewhiskey."

"Goodness gracious! Five minutes, the three of you, all I'm asking for is five minutes to teach the class."

"How about eight and half, Professor?" Sirius asked with a pointed look at the other Marauders. Marlene giggled loudly in the front row.

"Diggory was there," Peter declared as soon as McGonagall turned back to the board.

"So? He's her boyfriend, of course he was at her birthday party," James commented, his foot grinding the ashes deeper into the grit.

"Don't pretend you don't care, Prongs, we know you do."

"Will you all please shut up?" Lily whispered frantically in front of them. "I'm trying to pay attention."

"Why? This is kid's stuff," James said, gesturing vaguely at the board. "Basically says it's magic."

"Not everyone gets it as quickly as you do. Be considerate and shut up."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "No need to get antsy, Evans, just because your boyfriend isn't performing-"

Lily turned, opening her mouth to cut him off, but McGonagall beat her to it.

"DETENTION! I'm sick of this chattering in the back of my classroom! Potter, Black, Pettigrew, and Evans stay after class!"

Lily's mouth dropped the rest of the way open, aghast. Remus snorted loudly, but looked decently abashed after Lily shot him a glare. James bit back a chuckle at the unfairness of it all, and instead leaned forward as soon as McGonagall turned. "Bad luck, Evans."

But McGonagall was waiting for a sound, swiveling around faster than curse cast. "Mr. Potter, you already have detention with me Thursday evening, you will now have another with your cohorts on Wednesday, I believe that Quidditch practice is scheduled for Tuesday, and you have a meeting with Healer Drake tonight. Would you prefer to have a free evening or not?"

Her last sentence was drowned out amongst the whispers that suddenly filled the classroom. James felt his face burn against his will as heads turned conspicuously to glance at him. Pursing her lips, McGonagall seemed to have realized her mistake, but the damage had been done. It was apparent that the rest of the school knew about Drake's presence in the school, Dumbledore had announced it or something, and by lunch every student would know that James Potter was a lunatic, that he couldn't handle himself, that he...

Actually, James couldn't finger exactly what was so embarrassing about having to meet a psychologist, but he could feel the humiliation course through his blood, thick and blocking any witty reply that could save his reputation. Lily looked at him with what was clearly sympathy, but he couldn't meet her gaze.

The bell rang. Students filed out of the doorway as McGonagall yelled that their detention was at six o' clock on Wednesday and assigned homework. James made a point to rise from his seat as casually as possible, as if his first instinct wasn't to bolt out of the classroom as fast as possible.

The Marauders were last to leave. Silence enveloped all of them, not knowing quite what to say, until Remus asked out of curiosity, "Who's Drake?"

"Dumbledore made an announcement the day before you got out of the hospital wing, Moony," Peter supplied, his eyes on the ground. "He reckons some students need -er- help dealing with all the trauma that's been going on, what with You-Know-Who. Drake's a psychologist, she's apparently helping some... people."

"I'm not a nutter," James declared loudly. "My dad's making me."

"What?" Sirius's jaw dropped. "Your dad? What the fuck? No disrespect, Prongs, but based on what I saw before we came back, you're handling things a lot better than your old man."

"Whatever. I'll just go until I'm seventeen, and then I can do whatever I damn well want, you know? But this week is gonna be bloody nightmare, McGonagall's right about that."

"She did give you all fair warning," Remus pointed out.

"Oh, shut it," Peter said. "We can't all be model students."

"You shut it," Remus replied. "Anyway, I think it'll do you good to keep busy, Prongs. An idle mind is the devil's playground."

"Did you really just say that?" James asked, his frown breaking into a grin despite himself. "Where do you get this shit, Moony?"

"It's in the Bible. Sort of."

"Ah, so now our dear Moony is a priest?" Sirius challenged mockingly. "Tell us, Father Moony, what exactly attracted you to the world of priesthood? The holiness of spreading the word, or the promise that you'd never have to snog a girl?"

James and Peter howled with laughter as Remus rolled his eyes.

"Fuck you guys."

"We know you want to," Sirius shot back.

"Oh, Merlin! For the last bloody time, I'm not gay!"

James couldn't stop himself from smiling, the laugh escaping his chest easily. He didn't need help, he just needed to go back to normal life, one filled with meaningless memories instead of this sharp reality. He didn't need anything except this.

Right?

He entered seven minutes late. His tie was undone, his clothes rumpled, his robes discarded seven floors up with the other Marauders. Obviously in no hurry, James closed the door behind him, not bothering to tie his floppy laces. From all sides, it was apparent that James was not attending this meeting willingly.

But Drake didn't look remotely concerned as he walked toward her with his reluctant appearance. She smiled instead, her lips stretching over her thin face to reveal immaculate teeth. Her hair was white blonde, but a few strands of gray were easily visible in the light of the office. But her most striking feature could be seen from even behind a desk- she was ghastly skinny, looking to be made of bones rather than flesh. James supposed she could be somewhat attractive if she'd just shove something down her giraffe-like throat, but as he sat down he saw several fudge wrappers littering her desk.

"Sorry, I didn't get a chance to eat lunch," Drake said, her voice apologetic, but with a permanent briskness to it. She swept the wrappers into the bin on the side of her desk. "I'm Amelia Drake, but I won't waste time asking your name. I've got it right here." She tapped a piece of parchment on her desk, on which James could see a short biography of himself printed.

"I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, but, as I'm sure my file also states, I'd rather not be here."

"Well, that's a shame," she said sardonically, her eyes glinting. "Let's start with that then. Why don't you want to be here?"

Taken aback by her matter-of-fact demeanor, James slowly answered, "I don't need to be. You have plenty of kids who suffered attacks from the Dark side, do I really need to be wasting your time?"

"Ah, so you think you're a waste of time?"

"No," James replied, nonplussed. "That's not what I said. I said that me being here is a waste of your time."

"Hmm, yes," she mumbled as she scanned his file. "You're far too arrogant to believe you're a waste of time. But who wouldn't be, with a childhood like yours..."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Your family doted on you night and day, you being the only chance they'd ever have to continue the Potter line. You're smart, athletic, charming, and nobody ever let you forget it. You've never had to work for anything, really, since you're set to inherit quite the sum of assets-"

"Did you read that in Witch Weekly?"

Drake looked up from the file. "The article upset you." It wasn't a question, but James felt like he should answer it as one.

"Of course it upset me! What kind of shit question-? I apologize."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "For?"

"The language, I apologize," he said, but suddenly winced in pain. This session was giving him a headache.

"Do you always apologize for using language? You apparently have no problem shouting profanities at Professor Slughorn, you served a week's detention for that last year."

"No, I don't always apologize," James admitted, rubbing his temple.

"Then why apologize now?"

"You're a woman," he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, deciding that his headache wasn't about to disappear any time soon.

"So you're a gentleman now as well? From your file and the three or four minutes I've spent with you so far I'd say that you are quite the contradiction. You're brilliant, from what your professors tell me, but you don't use any of it, at least practically. You have a reputation at sixteen for being a playboy, but you have genuine respect for women; you're manipulative, but trusting to the point of stupidity. You claim to be more like your father, and perhaps you are on the outside, but your inner self resembles your mother more than you'll probably ever know. You act as if meaningless relationships are all you've ever desired, but you've your heart set on someone here. You've a record of rashness and embracing every feeling, but you reject your own grief and seek to channel it instead of face it."

For a moment, James sat in stunned silence. The first few were points that anyone could have drawn, with or without his file, but how did she know that much about him? There was no way that was all written down in his file, she would've had to talk to somebody who knew him, who knew him very well...

"You talked to my dad?"

"Not about this. The extent of your father's and mine communication is him persuading me to come to Hogwarts. But someone as trusting as you has probably told several people the information I just recited to you. I don't mean to alarm you, James, I'd just prefer we skip the initial analysis and head straight into the problem."

"The problem being my mother's death."

"Yes," she answered. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"No."

She nodded. "Very well then, James. You may go. I will see you next Monday."

"What?" Despite his confusion, James stood, not about to pass up an opportunity to leave.

"Go. I'll see you next week." She checked something on his file, but James couldn't be bothered to see what. He strode towards the doorway, already thinking that he could still make it to Hogsmeade if he hurried. Closing the door behind him, James practically sprinted up the stairs. If he just ran and got the Invisibility Cloak, he could run down to Hogsmeade and settle a score with two-

"OH!"

James grabbed the railing to steady himself as fingers grasped helplessly at his tie. The material slid smoothly off his neck, but James caught it at the last second, letting the person at the other end keep their balance.

"Smooth," Lizzy said, not letting go of his tie as she eyed the ground, almost as if she was making sure her feet were firmly planted.

"Thanks," James responded, not positive as to whether or not he was obligated to keep holding his own tie. "Quidditch reflexes."

"Mine only work in the air," she joked, smiling broadly. "You should really tie your ties. Then we wouldn't end up like this."

"Then you'd just be hanging on to my neck."

"I wouldn't mind," she said, turning red as she spoke.

He grinned, thoughts of bar fights forgotten. He only remembered the thrill of snogging Rosmerta, and he recognized he could easily replicate that here. It was another game, and he was going to win. "I suppose I could pull your weight," he replied.

She scoffed, looking affronted until she realized he was joking. "Oh, no, I wouldn't want to bother you."

"I wouldn't mind," he echoed, pulling her and the tie closer. She pretended to fight with him, but he won in the end, her face barely an inch from his. "Are you going to make me wait for the first date, or can I kiss you now?"

She opened her mouth to answer, an answer that James was sure was going to be a yes- after all, she'd fancied him for months- when a loud snigger resounded across the staircase.

"Really, Potter? That's the best line you could come up with?"

Lily stood at the top of the stairs, hands on her hips and a disbelieving grin on her face. "I suppose I don't feel too bad for turning you down the past two years then."

Ouch.

"Hi, Lily," Lizzy said, stepping away from James. "I'll check the fourth floor, then." She smiled awkwardly, proceeding down the stairs. "And James? I'll talk to you at Quidditch practice?"

"Yeah, alright. See you then." He grinned as she walked down the stairs, but it fell as soon as she was out of sight.

"Do you enjoy blocking a bloke from a good snog, or are you just bitter because you're not getting anything?"

Lily blinked, her grin fading as well. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I think Padfoot was right, Diggory's just not giving it to you-"

"And I think that you're just trying to take everything out on me. And that's really unfair."

He bit back a reply, recognizing the truth of her words. He was just venting on her. If he couldn't be fighting or snogging, then he might as well have an argument with Evans.Or some other shit logic. James wasn't about to let her know she was right, though, so he made to go down the stairs after Lizzy.

"Don't go chasing after her, she's supposed to be patrolling."

"Well, it's not like you're a stickler for patrol areas, are you?" James accused, turning to face her again with one foot on the stairs.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, her hand returning to her hip.

"You're not even supposed to be on this staircase, you're supposed to be on the fifth floor. Every prefect covers their floor and the staircase leading up to the one above it. So why break protocol, Evans?"

Lily rolled her eyes, but James could tell that she was surprised that he knew that much about the prefect patrols. "Well, Lizzy wasn't about to check it, was she?"

"But you wouldn't have known that until you got halfway down the steps. So, why bother?" He'd gone from a losing to a winning hand in about a minute, and he wasn't about to let his advantage slip. "Are you just looking for extra work to do because you can't spend any more time with your boyfriend?"

"What is it with you and Amos? Why don't you like him?"

"Because he's a useless pretty boy," James replied evenly. "He's dull, and you deserve somebody extraordinary and..." He trailed off, deciding he didn't want to finish that sentence. Sighing, he added, "You deserve better than that, you know?"

"According to you," Lily said, apparently unmoved. "I think Amos is-"

"Is what? Is what, Lily? Smart? Not really. Charming? Athletic? Yeah, he's on the team, but only because Hufflepuff doesn't have talent worth a Knut. Brave? No. What is so special about Amos Diggory when you wouldn't give me the time of day?" he practically shouted, angry for a reason unknown.

"I thought you didn't care anymore," Lily said, her voice almost a whisper when compared to James'.

"I don't," he responded, his volume dropping to meet hers.

"Well, then, not that it's your business, but Amos happens to be very nice."

"Nice? Nice?"

"Yes, maybe you should value that trait more."

"I just didn't think of you as a girl who'd settle for nice," he said, starting up towards the Common Room instead. He didn't particularly feel like finding Lizzy anymore.

"And I didn't think of you as a boy who'd avoid anything, including grief."

James groaned. "This again? Why is it always this? Why can't anyone just drop it and let me deal with it? I'm dealing with it! I don't need anybody's ruddy help!"

"Of course not, you're just getting into bar fights every night and skipping class for the heck of it! You just like being depressed and feeling like you're always drowning, because it's just so enjoyable, is that it, Potter?"

"Don't be daft, Evans, I just... Look, I'm giving you what you wanted, alright? I'm leaving you alone. Go snog Diggory or something." His stomach churned at the thought, but he turned and walked up the stairs.

"I didn't want it like this."

It was a stupid moment to piece it all together, but the moments of realization in James' life were rarely ideal. They were random and, though profound in content, never in time. But as soon as the words left Lily's mouth, he had that sinking feeling that could only mean one thing. She was right.

He wasn't dealing with this. He wasn't confronting his grief, he was avoiding it, and like hell was James Potter going to avoid something. Fighting DEWBs and snogging girls wasn't going to help him get over his mother's death, it only made things fade for a moment. It wasn't a solution, and it certainly wasn't courageous. He wasn't going to run away from his emotions anymore, because these feelings, this pain, was what made him human.

There was also a much less meaningful realization immediately following. He continued up the stairs for the sake of not making things more awkward then they already were, but he could feel the truth in his bones.

Fuck, I do still fancy her.