Chapter Three

James glanced up from his schoolwork, eyes bleary. "What's that?" he asked. Remus was standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised.

"I said, are you ready?"

"For what?" asked James. Concentration broken, he put down his copy of Advanced Defenses for Dark Magic and stretched his neck. Outside, the rain continued to beat against the windows, its steady rhythm a calming background for study.

"For the meeting," said Remus. "You know, yourmeeting. The one we have every other week."

"My meeting?" James repeated, momentarily confused. Then he remembered the bi-weekly prefects' meeting he was supposed to help start in less than ten minutes. Slamming his book shut, he jumped off the bed, grabbed his robes, and dashed out the door with Remus close behind, laughing.

"Must have been a fascinating chapter," said Remus as they hurried through the common room. Peter was studying at a nearby table with Susan Pritchard, while Sirius was sitting in one of the big chintz chairs by the fire reading a popular wizards' magazine. He waved lazily as they dashed by.

"Essay's due next week," James tossed back over his shoulder. He jumped through the portrait hole and practically began running down the corridor toward the prefects' lounge on the fifth floor. He was determined to be on time, so that Evans had less to berate him for.

"You're starting early," murmured Remus, loping strides struggling to keep up.

Though tempted to frown, James gave him a lopsided grin instead. "Yeah, well, I'm on top of things this year. Unlike Padfoot back there."

"Oh, he's on top of things," said Remus, grinning broadly. "Just not his schoolwork."

James raised his eyebrows. "Who now?"

"I don't know," replied Remus. "He won't say. Not a Gryffindor, though."

"He's gone through them all," James laughed. "At least he's got someone. Looks like we're the odd ones out, Moony."

Remus coughed as they turned a corner. "Actually, I'm meeting Elizabeth Finch after the meeting. To work on that essay."

James grinned. "The Hufflepuff? Good for you. Then I guess I'm the lone Marauder now instead of Peter."

"What about Cynthia?" asked Remus curiously. "She's nice, and you seem to work really well together on the team. I've seen you talking with her quite a bit lately."

"She's a friend," James said with a shrug. "A good friend, that's all." Cynthia was actually a bit more than a friend—she had become almost a confidante, someone he could actually talk to with so much going on in his life. They had grown much closer over the last month as they practiced nearly every day for the upcoming Quidditch season, but not romantically. He wasn't interested in her that way, and he hoped she wasn't either because he'd hate to hurt her.

"Okay, Anastasia Harrison? I swear she licks her lips every time she sees you, mate." Remus grinned and winked, and James pretended to shudder.

"She's a bit loose, don't you think?" he asked. "I mean, she's snogged just about every other available seventh-year, hasn't she? I don't know if I want to join that club."

Remus laughed. "I suppose, but maybe she's—"

"She's just interested in Head Boys," said a waspish voice behind them. "She's shagged the last two." James didn't even need to turn around to know it was Evans. He felt his hands curl into fists at the very sound of her voice. Every time they had spoken over the past six weeks it seemed one of them hurled insults at the other. It was if nothing had ever happened between them in June; in fact, he sometimes thought he was back in fifth year from the constant way they bickered. Frankly, he was starting to dread seeing her, let alone having to run the prefects' meeting with her every other week.

"Then she's got good taste," James snapped without looking back. "Unlike a lot of other girls around here." He was intentionally referring to her former friendship with Severus Snape, but was surprised when she paled and hurried past them without another word, lips pressed tight.

"What was that about?" murmured Remus.

"Don't know, don't care," said James shortly, putting it out of his mind. They took a shortcut to the fifth floor and made their way toward the statue of Boris the Bewildered, arriving with several of the Ravenclaw prefects, including Anastasia Harrison. James tried not to look at her, yet he couldn't help but notice her lips after Remus's offhand comment. Jackson Robertson gave the password, and the third door to the left of the statue opened to reveal the lounge where the prefects and Heads gathered for their meetings.

A vaulted ceiling rose over the large oval room. The stone walls were covered with well-worn tapestries, each one bearing the crest of one of the Hogwarts houses. There were sofas and chairs from various time periods scattered throughout the room in front of a large hearth, where a blazing fire tried to warm the chill air of yet another fall rainstorm.

Most of the other prefects were already gathered, but James noticed that Lily had not arrived. After waiting several minutes, he went ahead and started the meeting. He knew she'd be furious, but he didn't want to keep everyone waiting on her. And he had to admit that he felt a slightly vindictive sense of satisfaction that she was late, when she had done nothing but put him down for everything she could possibly think of during the last two meetings, often in front of the others.

He had just begun going over the next round of rotations when she came in and sat down in the back of the group. Glancing up, he raised his eyebrows at her. "Glad you could join us, Miss Evans," he remarked dryly in his best imitation of one of their professors.

The entire room turned toward her. He wondered if she had been crying, for her eyes were glassy and her nose slightly pink. However, instead of running away as she had in the corridor, this time she stood and joined him at the front of the room, back straight and eyes flashing.

"Couldn't let you muck it up, could I?" she retorted. She took the paper he was going over and glanced at it critically. Before James could reply, Ryan Sloper, the Gryffindor sixth-year prefect, spoke up.

"It's fine, Evans. Let him keep going so we can get out of here at a decent hour." There were a few nods of agreement around the room, and James glanced sideways to see her reaction. She had kept them late the last two meetings, but instead of snapping back, she merely held up her hands, as if in surrender, and motioned at James to continue. He could almost imagine steam coming from her ears as she refrained from any biting replies.

James finished the meeting without any questions, problems, or interruptions, and dismissed the group a good thirty minutes earlier than expected. He was straightening the room with Remus when Lily came up to him.

"Don't start without me next time," she said, arms crossed over her chest.

"Don't be late," he replied with a shrug.

"You shut me out," she hissed, her voice low.

"You could have jumped in any time," he pointed out.

"You're an arsehole," she stated.

"You're an annoying bint," he snapped back. "What's your point?"

"The same as always," she said. "Did you even follow the agenda? Did you discuss the Hogwarts Express?"

"It's only October," he exclaimed, staring at her in amazement. "The train ride is two months away, Lily!"

She narrowed her eyes at the use of her first name. "You said you'd handle it."

"I will—in December!"

"You'll forget," she replied derisively. She flipped her hair over her shoulders and gave him a smug look. "Just like you forgot to go over Quidditch duties for the first match."

"Sod off, Evans—we covered it before you even got here!"

That stopped her, and James huffed to himself as he stomped toward the door. Remus was waiting and tried to calm him, knowing how steamed he got every time he had another row with her, but he brushed it off. He couldn't resist leaving her with one last retort, however.

"You've got library duty. Stick that in your cauldron and boil it."

He turned and left the room. Beside him, Remus was shaking his head. "What?" James snapped, immediately apologetic when Remus gave him a reproachful look. "Sorry," he muttered.

"No rips in my robes." Remus shrugged. "But I don't know why you two keep putting yourselves through this. You've been at each other's throats for over a month now."

"She's a complete twat, Moony, that's why. I can't stand her this year." Before he could say more, he turned the corner and ran straight into Dante Avery, the seventh-year Slytherin prefect. With him were Teresa Davis, the other seventh-year prefect, and Regulus Black, Sirius's brother and sixth-year prefect.

"Hey, tosspot," sneered Avery, long black hair falling in front of his face. He raised a dark eyebrow as he brushed it away. "Going somewhere?"

"The other way, obviously," said Remus softly, clearly wanting to avoid confrontation, particularly between three Slytherins and an already irritated Head Boy. James threw off his friend's restraining arm and strode up to Avery. They hadn't fought all year and the pent-up frustration over his latest confrontation with Evans was itching to come out—preferably with a jinx or two.

"I'm heading that way," said James. "So move your fat arse."

Avery laughed snidely. "We were here first, Potter."

Remus steered him around the offensive Slytherins, calming hand on James's shoulder as he quietly reminded him of his responsibilities as Head Boy. James felt his blood boiling, but knew he had to avoid fighting. He wasHead Boy, after all, and he was supposed to stop this sort of thing. He was probably lucky he had Remus to hold him back; Sirius would have encouraged him.

"What, that bit of show in Hogsmeade all you had in you?" taunted Avery as they walked away. "Evans was right—Dumbledore's a bloody muppet for making you Head Boy, then."

James whirled and fired a Stinging Jinx before anyone could stop him. "Piss off," he snapped. Avery raised his wand and fired back, but Remus threw up a Shield Charm first.

"Stop it," he said, his voice commanding. James glanced at him in surprise, but Remus ignored him, eyes steady on Avery.

"Oh, got yourself a bodyguard now?" simpered Teresa Davis as she raised her wand. Avery just laughed again. Regulus did not say anything, but watched with a disgusted look on his face.

"What's going on?" asked a new voice. Lily Evans stepped around the corner with Mark Whitby, one of the Ravenclaw prefects. James felt his anger increase tenfold at the sight of her.

"None of your business, Evans," he snapped, his wand still on Avery. "Just walking back to Gryffindor."

"With a Shield Charm?" she asked, sounding skeptical. She glanced at the Slytherins and frowned. "I thought you'd left."

"We did. I just needed to talk to the Head Boy." Avery added special emphasis to the last words, and James felt his temper rise again.

Lily raised her eyebrows, but was silent. Avery turned back to James and walked right up to Remus's shield, alone.

"Watch yourself, Potter," he said, softly enough for only James and Remus to hear. "That was my brother you put in Azkaban back in June. We don't forget things like that."

James gave him a bland look. "Took you this long to realize?" he asked.

"No," said Avery, even softer. "It took me this long to decide how to pay you back— Head Badge or not." He flicked a finger at the charm, sending sparks up and down the invisible shield. With a snide wink, he turned and left, Davis and Black following him. James stared after them, his blood boiling.

Taking a deep breath, he glanced up at Evans and Whitby. They were standing unusually close, and for some reason, it made him irrationally annoyed to see them together. With a growl, he strode away, leaving Remus behind him, bewildered and alone.

Lily hurried toward the fifth floor, determined to beat Potter to the prefects' meeting. Merlin forbid he got there first; she could only imagine him taking the piss. She turned the corner and was surprised to hear him ahead of her, walking with Remus. They were talking about girls—Cynthia Morris in particular. Lily was surprised when James said she was a good friend; for some reason, hearing him talk about Cynthia like that bothered her, even though she knew perfectly well they played together on the Quidditch team. Then she heard Remus tease him about Anastasia Harrison, and she frowned.

"I suppose" said Remus, laughing, "but maybe she's—"

"She's just interested in Head Boys," said Lily, coming up behind him. She didn't bother to hide the scorn in her voice; it was true, after all. "She's shagged the last two."

She noticed James's shoulders tense, but he didn't turn around. She wondered if he was going to ignore her, or if he was going to bite back and continue the exchange.

"Then she's got good taste," James snapped without looking at her. "Unlike a lot of other girls around here."

Lily inhaled, her breath stuck in her throat, unable to respond. She could guess who he was referring to, but the offhand remark did not bring Severus Snape to mind; she hadn't talked with him for over a year. Instead, she was unexpectedly reminded of Petunia's wedding—the dirty cloakroom, the desperate groping, the terrifying endgame. Potter hadn't meant to throw it in her face, but that's all she could see and hear as she ran past them, trying to hold back tears.

She burst into the prefects' bathroom and threw herself into a stall. Almost immediately she heard the door open behind her; casting a Muting Charm so no one could hear her, she took deep breaths, trying to calm herself, determined not to cry. It was over, it was the past. James Potter was just a gargantuan git who didn't know what he was talking about.

When she was sure the bathroom was empty, Lily stepped out and washed her face. Her nose was a bit red, but there was nothing she could do. She was already late and Potter would certainly be ready with a waiting insult. She left the bathroom and slipped into the lounge next door as quietly as she could. And yet as soon as she sat down, he glanced up and fired.

"Glad you could join us, Miss Evans," he mocked. Although her first impulse was to get up and run, Lily swallowed and stood straight, determined to meet him head on. She took her place at the front of the meeting.

"Couldn't let you muck it up," she replied smartly, taking the schedule from him and pretending to glance at it disapprovingly. Really, it looked fine. Before she could find something to criticize, Ryan Sloper spoke up.

"It's fine, Evans. Let him keep going so we can get out of here at a decent hour."

Lily glanced around the room. Everyone was watching her reaction. She knew she had kept them over for the last two meetings, but it had been necessary. Perhaps if Potter hadn't questioned everything she said they could have finished on time. Seeing the expectant looks on their faces, Lily decided this was a battle she couldn't win. She held up her hands, returned to her seat, and let James finish what he had started.

The meeting went exceptionally well. Lily hated to admit that James knew what he was doing. It wasn't how she would do it, but he had an easy, confident way about him that encouraged the others to believe in him. No one questioned his decisions, no one gave him a hard time. Or maybe they just had a lot of work to be on with. Either way, he finished the meeting early, giving her a cocky grin as everyone began to leave.

Striding up to him, Lily crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't start without me next time," she said, resentful of his success.

"Don't be late," he said with a shrug.

"You shut me out," she snapped, her anger increasing with his casual dismissal of her.

"You could have jumped in any time," he replied.

Taking a deep breath, Lily held back an inarticulate growl. "You're an arsehole," she said instead.

"You're an annoying bint," he snapped back, and she felt her breath catch at the tasteless insult. "What's your point?"

"The same as always," she said. "Did you even follow the agenda? Did you discuss the Hogwarts Express?"

"It's only October," he exclaimed, eyes wide. "The train ride is two months away, Lily!"

She narrowed her eyes at the use of her first name. "You said you'd handle it."

"I will—in December!"

"You'll forget," she replied, though she didn't really believe it. She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and grinned, sure she'd catch him in a mistake. "Just like you forgot to go over Quidditch duties for the first match."

"Sod off, Evans," he snapped. "We covered it before you even got here!"

She stopped short and stared at him, willing herself not to flush with embarrassment or anger. James muttered to himself and hurried toward the door. It looked like Remus tried to calm him, but James brushed it off and turned back to her with a vicious smirk.

"You've got library duty. Stick that in your cauldron and boil it."

Speechless, Lily watched him leave the prefects' lounge, then turned and kicked at the nearest chair. She dropped every curse she could think as she stomped around the room, trying to get it out. Once again he had riled her with his damnable confidence and cocksure arrogance. She couldn't stand working with him, and more than anything hated how he always left her feeling like a first-year after a row.

A sound behind her made her spin, her wand instantly raised. "Get out, you bloody wan—" she started, then stopped when she saw it was not Potter, but sixth-year Ravenclaw Mark Whitby. He held up his hands, hazel eyes wide.

"Sorry, Lily. I just forgot my bag." He pointed to a black bag by the hearth and slowly edged his way around her toward it, hands still up.

Lily lowered her wand and dropped onto the sofa with her heart pounding. "I'm sorry, Mark. I thought you were someone else."

"Obviously." He lowered his hands and grinned as he hefted his bag over his shoulder. "You seem a bit tense."

Lily glanced up at him. He was tall, with dark brown hair that he kept neatly in place by frequently running a hand through it. He was friendly and had a nice smile, and he was looking at her in a curious but concerned way that suddenly made her self-conscious for being so irrationally angry.

"I am, sorry. I can't help it. Certain people just set my teeth on edge."

"I can't imagine who," he winked. "Certainly not our illustrious Head Boy."

Lily snorted. "Illustrious, my arse. Cunning bastard, more like. He stuck me with library duty for the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff match next weekend."

Mark shrugged. "Doesn't sound so bad to me. Quidditch is overated."

"Spoken like a true scholar," Lily laughed, feeling some of the tension drain away. "And sometimes you are quite right. Only it's the first match, and I did want to see it."

"I've got rounds of the stands," he said, eyebrows raised quizzically. "I'll trade if it means that much to you."

Lily stood and smiled. "Really? You wouldn't mind being stuck in the library with Pince on a Saturday afternoon? You'd miss your own house playing!"

"I wouldn't mind the least," he laughed, letting her lead the way toward the door. "Although, I might ask a favour in return."

As they stepped out into the corridor, Lily smiled again. Mark had been a quiet fifth year, always kind and polite. She had liked him, though they hadn't talked much. He seemed to have really grown over the past year. He wasn't nearly as shy now, but charming and confident. She wondered what he might ask in return.

"And what would that be?" she asked playfully. "A night off?"

"A date, perhaps?" he asked, walking closely next to her. She almost tripped as she stared at him.

"What?" she stuttered.

"You know, a date—when two people get together, have a bite to eat or something." He was smiling at her, but Lily was too stunned to appreciate it this time.

"But…but…" she said, shaking her head. "We can't leave the grounds this year," she finished lamely. "There's no more Hogsmeade trips after what happened last year. Where would we go?"

"Maybe we could start with a study date then," he said, still smiling. He had moved closer to her, and Lily felt his hand brush against hers. She wasn't sure what it meant or whether she liked it, but she forced herself to smile back.

"Maybe," she finally replied with a nod. They turned the corner and almost walked right into three Slytherins with their wands raised against James Potter and Remus Lupin, a Shield Charm shimmering between them.

"What's going on?" Lily exclaimed, her own wand coming up again.

"None of your business, Evans," James snapped, his wand on Avery. "Just walking back to Gryffindor."

"With a Shield Charm?" she asked skeptically. She guessed it was probably Remus, trying to stop the fight from escalating, and once again wondered why he wasn't Head Boy. She glanced at the Slytherins and frowned. "I thought you'd left."

"We did. I just wanted to talk to the Head Boy." Lily noticed the way he said the last; she raised her eyebrows, but stayed silent. Avery turned back to James and walked right up to the Shield Charm. She couldn't hear what he said, but knew it was bad from the look on James's face.

Avery flicked at the shield, sending sparks through the air. Then he turned and left, Davis and Black following him with a sneer. Lily suddenly felt bad for James. She knew the Slytherins could be horrible, and he was obviously extremely angry about whatever had passed between them. Yet she had no idea what to say or do; she only knew reprimanding him would make it worse, and for once, she stayed silent.

Taking a deep breath, James glanced up and met her eyes. For some reason, whatever he saw seemed to make him more upset, and with a growl, he stomped away, leaving her staring at Remus, mystified.

End Notes:

I hope you enjoyed seeing things from both of their perspectives. It was necessary to set up a few things for later, but I think I'll try it every so often.

Many thanks to mugglegirlmarauder for reading over this chapter and offering her great opinions and support. And for the brilliant line "Stick that in your cauldron and boil it!" My original line was far too American. Any other misspoken cultural phrases are my own.