There were some that thought that James had a bit of an attention span problem. "Some" meaning anyone that had seen him in class during a lecture, or the rare individual who had seen James actually read. Both of these scenarios provided indisputable evidence to the theory of James' limited attention span. "Indisputable" meaning only everyone but James Potter remained convinced.

In class, he found it very hard to stay sitting for more than five minutes. He compensated by fidgeting constantly, whether it was tapping his fingers or moving his leg up and down, he had to be doing something. His classmates who sat around him were doomed to hear his rhythmical movements throughout the entire year, regardless of how many times they asked him to stop. While the Marauders were used to it, there were more than a few students who prayed never to be assigned a seat next to him.

He didn't read very often; he preferred to be having adventures rather than read about them. But one could hardly become an Animagi, pull off advanced pranks, or be mates with Remus without ever opening a book. When that unfortunate event came around, it was actually quite comical to watch him read. Not only did he continue fidgeting relentlessly, but about one chapter into it he lost all focus and had to pick up another book. Luckily, James had an excellent memory, so simultaneously following three or four books wasn't a problem, but it did lead to many chuckles and grins from those watching.

Quidditch captain, Marauder, boyfriend, Hogwarts' Golden Boy... James took on all these roles because he liked to keep busy. He loathed boredom, and, more so, the stillness that came along with it. Despite his repeated occupancy there, the hospital wing was one of the most dreaded places in the school, because there was nothing to do there except sleep and whine to Madam Pomfrery.

And while James hated staring at the ceiling during his waking hours, it was admittedly a relief to be able to think clearly. He felt like he'd lived a year of his life within these past two months and to have nothing else on his plate forced him to ponder over the events. He appreciated the opportunity- really, he did- but James could only think for so long before he had to act.

"Let me take a wild guess- Lily Evans?"

The date was March 26th, another Monday, but also the Monday before his birthday. He was heavily bandaged; Pomfrey was still working on healing some of the Darker curses. The hospital wing had lost what little charm it had left. Wormtail had brought him one of his "borrowed" Snitches, but even catching it had grown dull without anyone to admire him. Admittedly, James had only been fully conscious for about half his time in the hospital wing- but most of that half had been spent arguing with Pomfrey about his injuries. Tomorrow was his birthday, and if he had to spend it in the hospital wing... Well, there was no "if". He wouldn't be.

However, plans of how to evade the matron the next day were pushed aside as soon as Drake entered the room. She'd been under strict orders not to come the last few weeks- Pomfrey was under the impression it would stress James out of recovery, a bit ridiculous in his opinion, but Drake had not argued. This week, though, Pomfrey had finally succumbed. Or at least that's what James assumed, since Drake sat in front of him, biting into an apple, perfectly casually.

"Lily Evans is a subject for later," Drake answered, shoving a gray wisp of hair behind her ear. "I have twenty questions today- almost three weeks worth. She might come about later, but we have different subjects to cover today."

"Fantastic," James mocked. "Let's get on with it, then."

"If you're busy, I'm more than happy to postpone," Drake replied, grinning. "You're not the only one I'm seeing today; perhaps you'd prefer to be left alone?"

She rose, striding towards the door, when James gave in. "Alright, I'm bloody bored and you know it. Let's do this."

Drake turned nonchalantly, as if James' change of heart made no difference to her, and took her seat again. For a moment, he thought she might admonish him for language, but instead she jumped right into her interrogation. "Why did you save Miss Brookings?"

Oh, so now she wanted to talk about that night? And what was wrong with Drake, asking a question like that? How exactly was he supposed to respond to that? "Because she needed saving," James answered obviously. "What choice did I have?"

"You'd be surprised how little people would ask that question. Many would have just ran to a teacher, went into shock, or stood by while others disorderly attempted to help. From what I've gathered, you took charge. You were very logical at a time of great emotion. Would you say that you normally behave so?"

"That was different than a row or a fight. Somebody needed to take charge, or she'd die."

"Why do you automatically assume that role? Surely other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team are leaders."

"I'm Captain," James answered, and then realized what a stupid response that was. Because he was Captain of the team he was the leader in all situations? Drake raised an eyebrow, but seemed to glean from his facial expression that he understood.

James expected her to pursue the question, but instead she merely lowered her gaze from his face to his exposed arm. "Those are caused from more than tumbles down the stairs or scrapes against statues. Those are caused by Dark Magic, that's why Madam Pomfrey can't heal them all. Who did it?"

He swallowed, but kept his expression as neutral as possible. It was a question he'd been asked repeatedly by Pomfrey and even McGonagall, but he hadn't told them and wasn't about to tell Drake either. Of course he'd told the Marauders, whom were patrolling the hallways at night to make sure no one else was injured. Remus had convinced the other Prefects to increase the patrol schedule, and Sirius had called in a favor with some of the ghosts to keep watch as well. He'd been told that Professors were constantly guarding the corridors, but all this gave him little ease. James knew that it was unlikely they'd attack with the castle full of people, yet the dilemma was still consuming. He couldn't break his word- it was the only thing that had saved Angela and Madeline, the only weapon he'd been able to use, and reporting the incident shattered whatever honor and credibility it had. But it also meant that Avery and his mates still walked around the school, and they still posed a threat to others. James was risking more than himself this time, and it was becoming more and more difficult not to give in.

James stared at Drake, opening his mouth to confess, when he saw the corner of her mouth turn upward. "You're playing me," he said in realization. "You already know who did it."

"Half of my work is pushing your boundaries, James. But, yes, I do know. Miss Brookings informed Professor Dumbledore of what she remembered, and Miss Warren was eventually subjected to Legilmency by the Ministry. She did remain loyal to you until the end, though, it's actually quite admirable... But Avery, Mulciber, and their cohorts are being tried as we speak. Miss Warren volunteered to testify- I suspect you would've been obligated to as well, but both Miss Brookings' and your memories were deemed unreliable due to extensive injuries."

Though Drake's tone was objective, James understood the implications very well. The Wizengamot was becoming more and more corrupt by the day, whether from pureblood mania or gold, and their punishment was unlikely to be severe. James ground in teeth in fury, unable to wipe the image of Avery's smirking face in front of him, and he hurriedly asked, "What about the Board of Governors? They've been expelled, right?"

Drake pursed her lips, her objective mask cracking. "Unfortunately, the School cannot expel them for a criminal act unless they're proven guilty of it. The code was recently adopted a week ago."

The injustice of it all pumped though James' body, causing him to sit up suddenly. Pain flared in his side, but he ignored it. He was about to stand up when Drake spoke.

"Why are you so upset, James? They'll be free from punishment, which is exactly what you were going to let happen before."

He opened his mouth in indignation, but his gut knew that she was right. "It's not the same thing," he objected.

"Because the Wizengamot will let them go free for politics or money, whereas you would've done the same for honor, is that it? You are so set in your morality that your father fed you that you do not understand the ethics of the real world. What does it matter, the reasons why, as long as the same outcome occurs?"

"It's worth everything," James answered.

"What is everything?"

"All that's worth living for."

"So friends, family, ambitions? You'd give all that up so you'd be morally justified."

"No, of course not, I-"

"Didn't you already?"

Her words froze his insides, guilt the only warmth. "Stop twisting my words- my actions this once don't apply to my entire bloody life. You're not about to change my view of the world through one conversation." His words were confident, his tone eloquent, yet Drake did not seem fazed.

"I don't aim to change you view, James, only to question it. But this topic has been quite exhausted. Let's move on- now, we'll discuss Lily Evans."

He fell back down on the bed, the pain in his side too intense to bear any longer. "You're crazy. Abso-fucking-lutely loony. Do you really think that these sessions help me? Questioning everything about myself doesn't help me with my mother's death, or my so-called 'hero complex', or anything else in my life. What is wrong with you?"

"What do you like about her?"

"And why do you only ask a certain number of questions? It's absurd. And what's your fascination with Lily and me? Why is it relevant at all to my mother? And how do you know everything about me; how come you can read me better than some of my mates?"

"Do you normally deflect when conversation turns to her?"

"I'm not deflecting, YOU are! It's a fucking stroke of luck that I turn seventeen tomorrow, because there's no bloody way I'll be coming to these things anymore."

Drake shrugged, as if James' voice wasn't bouncing off the walls. Pomfrey swung the door open from her office, glaring at Drake with enough force to knock her out of her chair, but she apparently didn't notice this either.

"How do you feel when you see her with a boyfriend? With Mr. Diggory?"

"Amelia, Mr. Potter needs to rest. You'll have to come back-"

"Jealous? Betrayed? Or do you just not care anymore?"

"Amelia! Get out!"

Drake stood nonchalantly, but her eyes remained fixed on James'. "There is more to life than death, James."

She left, Madam Pomfrey's eyes following her out with the precision of a hawk. The door closed behind Drake, and James wondered if that really was the last he'd hear from her. For some reason, he wished she would've said good-bye. But, he realized as Pomfrey applied new bandages on his chest, she kinda had, in her own way.

"She's right, you know," Pomfrey said as he lied back down on the bed.

"I know, Poppy," he agreed reluctantly. "I bloody know she is."

James slept most of his birthday, though he was fairly positive it wasn't from actual fatigue. He was too hungry to refuse the meal that Madam Pomfrey gave him, despite the fact that it tasted too sweet and heavy. He was sure she was trying to preempt the inevitable argument of whether he'd get to leave the hospital wing for his birthday. It had been all he spoke of that morning, and Pomfrey had seemed rather eager for him to eat lunch at ten. James wasn't able to decline, and, though he had known something was off with the sandwich about three bites in, he also knew from experience that whether he swallowed a milliliter or a barrel of Sleeping Solution mattered little- he'd be out within the hour.

When he finally awoke, it was seven o' clock, and Madam Pomfrey had her back to him, attending to another patient in the bed across. His fingers fumbled across the nightstand and grabbed his glasses. For the first time, he wondered who had brought him a new pair. Probably Remus, who was the most responsible, or Peter, who was the most likely to remember James' needs. Definitely not Sirius. Sirius was more likely-

"Get off me, Poppy! Id's jus' a fucking nose beed, jus' fix id alreaby!"

Pomfrey pulled out her wand, moving to the side to give James a better view of his best mate. Sirius was sitting on the bed, his sleeve apparently preventing blood from streaming down his robes. James jammed his glasses on his face, and even in the dim light he could tell that his nose was broken. It was terribly bent to one side, and there was a clear beginning of a black eye surrounding it.

"Don't you two ever get along with the rest of the school? I can't go one week without one of you ever being in here! This is absolutely ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous..." She tapped Sirius' nose sharply. "That being said, I don't feel sorry for you. Not one bit. Miss Meadowes was quite right in-"

"Dorcas did that?" James exclaimed, the grin erupting on his face instantly.

Sirius spit a mouthful of blood out on a tray Pomfrey held out. "Shut up."

"Ah, mate, that was one broad you shouldn't have pissed off. What'd you do?"

"You're just bloody eager for any news, aren't you, Prongs? I don't blame you, I've been here for five minutes and I've already been assaulted." He glared jokingly at Madam Pomfrey; she rolled her eyes and walked away, muttering under her breath. "Happy Birthday."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," James said, waving his hands aside. "I know, God's gift to the world has made another year, but it's getting a bit old. Seriously, I'm much more interested in what you said to piss Dorcas off so much."

Sirius stood, cleaning his robes with his wand. "Just pointed out the obvious," he stated nonchalantly. "She was being a right slut with Caradoc Dearborn, you know, so I told her so, and she flipped out on me. She punches me right in the nose, and it's obviously cracked, right? So then Evans comes out of nowhere and grabs my face, telling me to hold still when I'm just trying to, well, you know-"

"Not cry your arse off because you got hit by a girl?" James supplied.

"Right, and then Evans says in that real prissy voice, 'It's definitely crooked.' Like I didn't bloody already know that. But then Meadowes is all, 'Well, then, it matches his prick.' I mean-"

James interrupted with some not-so-subtle chuckling. Sirius glared at him, telling him silently to shut it, but James ignored the warning. "D'you reckon it's the massive amount of inbreeding or the-?"

Sirius flew across the room, jumping on James' bed in a flash. The boys wrestled onto the floor, trying to keep silent so Pomfrey wouldn't hear from her office, but it was rather difficult on James' end. Sirius twisted his arm, still sore from being pulled from its socket, and James instantly froze.

"Ah! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Let go, Sirius, you bloody wanker-"

James' cheek hit the floor, and he felt Sirius' knee dig sharply into his back, pinning him to the floor. Shit.

"You should know better, Prongs," Sirius said, the grin noticeable even in his voice.

"Shut the fuck up, Padfoot, and let me go."

"Since you asked so nicely," Sirius replied, removing his knee and dropping James' arm. Getting up was a much more difficult task than James remembered, but he managed, sliding back on the mattress with attempted ease. The brief wrestling match had made James' heart beat much faster than expected, and he tried not to breathe so heavily. Sirius noticed, though, the way Sirius and James always noticed what the other tried to hide, but didn't comment.

"I just don't understand what Meadowes' problem is," he continued. "I know she hates me and all, but that was months ago. And I've called her a slut before, I don't know why she blew up this time."

"I think you're jealous," James confessed, his breathing normal again.

Sirius looked a little affronted, but then shrugged his shoulders in admission. "I guess, maybe, a bit. You know, she's real fucking fit, and I kinda miss shagging her." James knew Sirius enough to know that was the extent of his feelings towards Dorcas. Sirius wasn't jealous because he liked Dorcas. He was jealous because, in Sirius' view, Dorcas was his, and other blokes didn't have the right to touch her.

"You didn't have a problem when I shagged her," James reminded him.

"Well, yeah, I don't mind as long as she had standards. You're a fellow Marauder, and damn good bloke. But Cadadoc Dearborn? Really, that's her alternative to me? Rather insulting, I think."

James shrugged. "I suppose. He's a bit off. Evans says he can never get through a sentence at prefect meetings without stuttering."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You pay an awful lot of attention to what Evans says."

"My God! What is everyone's obsession with Evans? Yes, I fancy her, alert the Daily Prophet, so we can move on. It doesn't need a bloody update every five minutes."

"Did I strike a nerve?" Sirius asked mockingly, pulling something out of his pocket and lighting it with a tap of his wand. He took a long drag, smoke billowing out the end. James opened up his hand expectantly, but Sirius shook his head. "Last one."

"Come on, I haven't had one in almost a month. Give me a drag."

Sirius checked over his shoulder, but the door to Madam Pomfrey's office was just barely cracked open. He passed James the joint, setting something else on the nightstand as well. "Brought your wand. Sorry, we just kept forgetting. Been rather busy with everything." He glanced fugitively at Pomfrey's door again, and then took his voice down to a whisper. "Trial ended yesterday. They were suspended- not that that'll matter a toss later on, but the school's fine until next term anyway."

James nodded, handing the joint back to him. He didn't want to think about that night anymore. "What's the plan for busting me out of here?"

"Well, it's very complicated, you see. You'll put one foot in front of the other, all the way out the door, and then-"

"When's the party?"

"Who says you're getting a party?"

James grinned knowingly. "Right, well, there better be plenty of drinks. And Lizzy. Lizzy better be there."

"Don't worry about getting laid. Though you might wanna be out of the hospital wing by ten, incidentally."

"Will do. I-"

"Mr. Black!" Pomfrey called from her office. "I think you have been here for long enough. Mr. Potter needs to eat his dinner."

The two boys shared a knowing look, James shaking his head and mouthing now now now now. Sirius nodded. "Alright, Poppy. I'm on my way out."

James practically sprinted out the door, Sirius not far behind, and, though it was just the same corridor of the same school he'd walked in for years, the first step into the hallway felt like freedom.

"It's odd, you know, I've never noticed this room was here!" Lizzy said, her words slightly mumbled. "You'd think, in seven years of Hogwarts, seven years, I'd've noticed that this room was here- Nope! Nope, nope, nope! But it is great for parties!"

The music blared throughout the room, lights of various colors flashing intermittently. There was an endless table on the side, the "punch" bowl magically refilling whenever the level was low- there was food, but it'd barely been touched. More people were concerned with getting totally smashed, being one of many who could say that they couldn't remember James Potter's birthday party. Doors kept magically appearing, couples disappearing conspicuously behind them; other, larger groups, closed the door behind them, joints or crystals or "Puff the Magic Dragon" bursting from their pockets. James didn't mind- as long as people had a good time.

His mind was faintly fuzzy. He was sure the drink had more than just alcohol in it, because the lights weren't just flashing, they pulsed throughout the whole room. He remembered that the Marauders had been with him at some point, but they were suddenly gone. Lizzy straddled him, her lips moving sloppily across his neck. There were people dancing about two meters from them, but James couldn't really care. His brain was on overload- everything was good right then, everything felt good.

Although, as Lizzy ran her hand down his chest, James wondered why there were so many people there. Did they all really like him? Or were they just looking for a good time? For some reason, he thought of what Lily's birthday party must've been like. Moderately fun, he was sure, since Dorcas planned it, but small compared to the mass of people in front of him. People were probably at Lily's party because they liked her, not because they wanted to use her popularity.

And then he realized that it didn't bother him.

What did bother him was that Lily was dancing with Amos Diggory. Both were pointing and laughing at the various drunken people around them, both apparently sober, andboth were obviously happy. Amos touched her shoulder, and Lily didn't react, thinking it very natural. He whispered something in her ear, and Lily giggled as she gripped his shoulder. And then he kissed her, and Lily was far from recoiling. She leaned into it, and James could tell that it was because she wanted it, because she really felt something-

Lizzy rolled her hips, and all thought flew out the window. She whispered something in his ear, something undiscernible because of the music, but James understood. She stood, pulling James along with her, dropping her drink. A door was across from them, a door James was sure hadn't been there before. He opened the door, leaving the room of pulsing lights and flashing music, turning as Lizzy slung her arms around him. His glasses were removed, but James couldn't think about where she'd put them because her hand was down his pants; he pressed her against the wall, reaching to close the door. He opened his eyes briefly, his hand finding the door, and, just far enough to be clearly seen was a head of red hair.

Almost as if she could feel his gaze, Lily turned, her eyes meeting James' for only a moment. He could sense her disapproval more than see it, and he swore that she took a step forward.

The lights flashed, leaving everyone in darkness for a millisecond. But it's quite amazing what can be conveyed, what can happen in a millisecond. Amos' hand closed back on Lily's shoulder, so when the lights came back on she was facing him. The door shut, James' eyes closed, and all sound from beyond the wall was silenced.

He would not remember that millisecond in the morning. She would.