Chapter 4

"Avery's a dung-eating, piss-swilling arsehole," said Sirius, stabbing his sausage vehemently. "He's also a bloody foul dueler, not to mention complete shite on the Quidditch field. Don't worry about it."

James raised his eyebrows at Sirius's unusually colorful language. "You sure about that? He's also large, angry, and connected."

"Connected to what?" asked Peter, looking up from his breakfast. "Money?"

"People and power," grumbled Sirius, reluctantly acknowledging James's point. "I used to run into him at certain gatherings within the Black family circle."

"Oh, those kind of connections." Peter nodded. "And his brother is a Death Eater now. In Azkaban—thanks to you."

James shrugged. "Apparently. I just can't believe it's taken Avery this long to have a go at me, since he seems to think it's my fault."

"He's mental," said Sirius. "And he's full of hot air—he's not going to pull anything at Hogwarts." Sirius glanced at Remus. "You're quiet. What's got your knickers in a knot?"

Remus finished his juice. "You weren't there. Avery was serious. It was more than empty posturing or Slytherin pride."

"You should have let us have at it then," James grumbled.

"So you could both end up in detention? Or the hospital wing?" Remus shook his head. "I don't think so. Not this year."

James frowned at him. "I don't need a bodyguard, Moony, in spite of anything Davis might say."

Sirius snorted and James gave him a dirty look. Remus just grinned. "No, you probably don't, but it looks like I am anyway. Someone's got to keep you away from Avery—or Evans."

James grumbled again, but didn't say anything as he poured himself more juice. Remus nodded in satisfaction and continued his breakfast.

Peter narrowed his eyes and glanced between them. "What was that about? What's going on with Evans?"

"Nothing," snapped James. "Moony just thinks we fight too much. Apparently his sensitive canine ears can't take it anymore."

"Lupine," murmured Remus, unruffled by the deliberate insult.

"You do get quite wound up around her," Sirius pointed out. "Maybe Moony's just looking out for your health."

James put down his glass and wiped his mouth. For some reason, the thought of his friends looking out for his health felt more like interfering with his life. Avery had threatened him first, and he had every right to defend himself. And if he wanted to row with Evans, then he bloody well would. He was suddenly tired of Remus interfering—and even worse, of Sirius agreeing.

No longer hungry, James slung his bag over his shoulder and stood, staring down his friends. "If you three are done counseling me on how to live my life, I'm going to class. See you there."

He left them sitting at the table, slightly stunned. He knew he was being irrational, but it seemed to be the only way he could react to anything recently: with anger and irritation. He couldn't remember the last time he had genuinely laughed and enjoyed himself. Classes were more challenging and Quidditch practice was taking up more and more of his time. With Head Boy duties on top of it all—including keeping track of patrols and doing his own rounds—James felt like he had no chance to relax. He had told himself in September that his new responsibilities wouldn't keep him from having fun, but he had been wrong. Seventh year was about as much fun as a Hobgoblins concert.

Of course he bumped into Mark Whitby on his way out, and he felt his annoyance shoot up. Whitby was a decent bloke who had done nothing to offend him, yet after seeing him with Evans the previous night, James had decided the Ravenclaw was anathema. He muttered an apology under his breath and hurried toward the dungeons for Potions class. He was early, so he took the time to cool off and review before anyone else arrived.

Any semblance of an improved mood was lost when the rest of the class showed up, much too cheerful for a Monday morning as far as he was concerned. Evans walked into the room, laughing with her friends, and seemed to pointedly ignore him. Remus came in with Elizabeth Finch, his new study partner, while Sirius sat with Peter. Anastasia Harrison took the last empty seat next to James. He noticed the look on Lily's face as Anastasia sat down, and though he was not even remotely interested in Harrison, he decided it was probably worth putting up with the Ravenclaw for an hour just to get Evans wound up, especially after what she had said the previous night.

Professor Slughorn had started in September by reviewing potions from previous years as they prepared for N.E.W.T.s He then had them work on more advanced mixes of each potion. The current lesson was an Invigoration Draught with a dash of Strengthening Solution, which James found ironic given his recent moods. Yet as he worked on it, he talked with Anastasia and couldn't help but enjoy the darkening look on Evan's face. She did not seem happy at all, and he found it encouraging to the point where he couldn't resist remarking on it just to get back at her.

Making his way toward the supply cabinet, he stopped by Evan's cauldron and pretended to sniff the bubbling liquid. He gave her a sharp grin. "You don't look so invigorated, Evans. Out late with Whitby?"

She narrowed her eyes as she tossed in the final ingredient and began to stir it counter-clockwise. "None of your damn business, Potter."

He tutted at her. "Of course it is. I'm Head Boy. I need to keep up with Hogwarts gossip." He winked at her and was rewarded when she sputtered at him.

"There is no gossip, you prat. Go back to your latest conquest and start some gossip of your own."

James glanced back at Anastasia, who was watching him with an annoyed look on her face. When he turned back to Evans, he found Sandra Murphy frowning and looking sideways at her friend. James suspected Sandra didn't know anything about Whitby. Feeling reckless, or perhaps the fumes from the cauldrons were getting to him, he decided to ignore the dig about Harrison and have a bit of fun with both girls. Glancing slyly at Sandra, he lowered his voice.

"Did she tell you? They were practically holding hands last night."

Sandra's eyes went wide. "Lily! You didn't tell us that—" she started.

"There's nothing to tell," Lily snapped. "He's making it up."

James crossed his hands over his chest. "I certainly am not. I saw you two come out of the prefects' lounge. Were you snogging in there?"

"You mean while you were busy hexing Avery in the corridor?" she threw back. "What did he say that was so bad your bodyguard had to stop you with a Shield Charm?"

In front of them, James could see Remus's shoulders straighten as he heard Lily refer to him. Hearing Evans call Remus his bodyguard bothered James as much as it had at breakfast, and any desire to continue the exchange abruptly evaporated.

"None of your damn business," he threw back at her, and then walked away. It was probably one of the first times he had turned his back and let her get the last word, and he hated it. He returned to his table to find Sirius giving him a funny look. Ignoring him, James couldn't help but glare at the back of Remus's head, irrationally annoyed at his friend as well as at Evans.

Shrugging it off, he began to throw some more knotgrass into his potion, but Anastasia grabbed his wrist.

"You've already added those," she said softly. She licked her lips and smiled demurely. Remus was right; it was almost certainly an invitation, and James was suddenly aware of her hand burning into his skin. Behind him he heard Lily huff, though he wasn't sure if it was for the potions gaffe or for his physical contact with the Ravenclaw.

"Thanks," he murmured. "I owe you." He regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth.

"I'll have to take you up on that sometime soon, then," she murmured, her voice low and suggestive. James swallowed, sure he had just got in too far. He saw Remus shaking his head in front of him; glancing to the side, Sirius and Peter were giving him a silent thumbs up. James sighed, any semblance of a good mood gone for certain now. No amount of Invigoration Draught could save him; he just hoped he survived the rest of the day unscathed.

The rest of the week passed uneventfully, though the class work continued to pile up and James felt like he would never finish. He had managed to avoid Anastasia Harrison for most of the week, which was good considering he had no intention of letting her lick her lips at him again. He had even avoided any major rows with Evans, which he found both refreshing and somewhat disappointing: he could concentrate and get more done, but he had one less place to vent his frustration. And every time he saw her talking with Whitby, he felt his aggravation rise, only he didn't understand why and ended up snapping at his friends instead.

At last classes were done for the week, and James found himself at Quidditch practice on Friday, mentally and physically exhausted. He wasn't sleeping well, and in spite of working hard to stay ahead of his assignments, he was starting to fall behind. Trying to fly fifty feet above the Quidditch pitch while the wind fought back was virtually impossible as well; he was glad the Gryffindor match wasn't the next day, though he knew the weather in November was likely to be worse.

After another botched Quaffle pass that found both him and Anthony Philips, the third Chaser, almost falling from their brooms, Thomas Kirke, their captain, finally called the practice. Muttering to himself, Kirke didn't even give them a dress down, just headed toward the changing room. Everyone seemed demoralized, and James wondered if they all had as much schoolwork as he did, or if the weather were just getting them down. It seemed to rain every time they headed out to the pitch, and he was really getting tired of it.

After cleaning up, he met Cynthia outside and headed toward the Great Hall for a late supper. She tied her long blond hair back in a braid as they walked through a light drizzle, then tossed it over her shoulder and grinned at him.

"Told you I could do it while walking uphill," she laughed. "I can't catch a Quaffle for a Galleon, but at least I can look decent while dining."

James shook his head. "Yes, truly amazing. Your mysterious suitor will be duly impressed by your astounding handiwork."

Cynthia stuck out her tongue. "Go swim with the squid, I'm still not telling."

"Good, I don't want to know," James said.

"Then why did you bring it up?" she asked, glancing at him with eyebrows raised.

"Just to get a reaction," he laughed. He decided to change the subject, since in truth he both wanted to know, yet didn't. He knew perfectly well Cynthia was interested in a Quidditch player, but the thought that it might be him made him nervous. He considered her a good friend, someone he enjoyed talking to, but not someone he could ever snog. For some reason, when he looked into her deep blue eyes, he saw someone else's eyes looking back at him, and it unnerved him to even think about it.

"So who do you have for the match tomorrow?" he asked as they made their way up the steps and toward the Great Hall for dinner.

"I don't know," she replied. "They seem pretty evenly matched. Alan's a fantastic Keeper, but if Robertson gets the Snitch, it won't matter."

James nodded his agreement, but didn't get to reply. Dante Avery came up behind him and bumped hard against his shoulder.

"I'd be more worried about the next game, Potter," he said softly as he walked by. "You're going down." He threw a wink over his shoulder. "And maybe your girlfriend too."

James had his wand up immediately, but Cynthia grabbed his wrist and stopped him as Avery walked away, laughing. "Don't. Not here."

"I'm sick of him already," James muttered under his breath. "I don't think I can stand a month of this, let alone a year."

"He's just trying to get to you," Cynthia told him. They walked toward the Gryffindor table, where Sirius was motioning at him to sit with them. Lily Evans was sitting not far down the bench, staring at him with narrowed eyes. A number of retorts came to mind, but James forced himself to look away. He didn't want to get into it with Evans now—not after a bad practice and another run-in with Avery.

"Look," said Cynthia, waving at her own friends. "Avery's not going to do anything besides throw around bad insults. Don't let him bother you."

James gave her a weak smile. "Right. Thanks. See you at practice Sunday." He joined his friends and tucked into his food, trying to ignore their glances. He had been short-tempered with them all week and didn't want to snap at them now. The silence grew uncomfortable, however, until he finally looked up to find them all staring at him. "What?"

"I think Prongs here needs to take a night off," Sirius finally declared. "You look tense. We haven't had a proper party in a while anyway, so what do you say?"

"I'm in," Peter answered immediately. "I couldn't open another book if you Imperiused me."

"Agreed," said Sirius. "What about you, Moony? Are you hanging with your golden bird tonight?"

Remus laughed as he shook his head. "No, we're not. Why aren't you off with your mystery girl?"

"What mystery girl?" Sirius asked blandly, though James couldn't help but notice his friend glanced toward one of the other house tables. So Remus was right; Sirius wasn't shagging a Gryffindor then.

"Never mind," said Remus, shaking his head. "I'll figure it out soon enough. I'm in. I finished that Patronus essay yesterday so I can take a night off."

"That's three—you in, Prongs?" Sirius coughed delicately. "We'd hate to make merry without the guest of honor."

James sighed and looked away. He once again caught Lily watching him from down the table, as if her ears had pricked up at the mention of a party. For some reason, he grinned as he thought about how irritated she'd be to know the Head Boy was having a good time instead of studying—or worse, breaking rules. He nodded slowly, enjoying the look on her face as she frowned at him. He turned back to his friends, ready to put it all aside for one night and have fun.

"We'll need a run to Hogsmeade," he said. "When do we start?"

End Notes:

Thanks once again to mugglegirlmarauder/Lea for being my lovely alpha beta and listening to my endless droning about this story. And to my wonderful f-list for helping me with insults and other phrases, especially British. As always, any mistakes are my own.

Also, thank you so much for all the reviews! If you have any pressing questions, I can try to answer them here. But updates will be quick, so I don't want to spoil anything. :)