Chapter Twelve

Lily woke up the next morning still furious at James. She was also embarrassed and disappointed, not to mention slightly itchy, given that she was allergic to most house cats. She had always been thankful neither Sandra nor Mary had brought a Kneazle with them first year.

It seemed too much to deal with, that Mark had broken up with her and then James had hit her with that Transfiguration spell. He had seemed as shocked and mortified as her, but he had not experienced the terrible feeling of one's entire body morphing into that of a dumb animal. Lily still shuddered as she remembered the overwhelming urge to lick her paws.

Waiting as long as she could without being late for breakfast, Lily finally went down to the common room. To her relief, most of Gryffindor had gone to the Great Hall already, and James was not there, nor were any of his friends. Mary and Sandra had waited, however, and Lily sighed as she realized she couldn't put off talking to them any longer than she already had.

"Lily Evans, did you think you could ignore us for the rest of the week?" demanded Mary. "Because you can't."

Lily shrugged wearily as she headed out the portrait hole. "I guess I'd rather just be by myself after everything that's happened."

Sandra nodded sympathetically. "I would too, but Lily—we're your friends. You can talk to us."

"What's there to talk about?" Lily asked bitterly. "My perfectly nice boyfriend broke up with me, and the next day the one person I hate the most turned me into a cat. Which pretty much sums up my year."

Mary put an arm around Lily's shoulders and squeezed. "We're sorry about Mark. Do you still blame James?"

"Of course I do!" Lily exclaimed. She had already told them what Mark had said and didn't particularly feel like going over it again; it still stung, that he had broken up with her because of Potter.

"Do you really hate him, though?" asked Sandra, lowering her voice. "James, I mean—not Mark."

"Yes, I really do," Lily replied, narrowing her eyes at her friends. "How could you ask me that after what happened yesterday?"

"Well, to be honest, you almost seemed to be enjoying yourself," said Mary in her typical straight-forward manner.

"I got in some good shots," replied Lily, feeling defensive. She didn't want to admit that Mary might be right, that the duel had been somewhat exhilarating at times, and not for a few decent spells. She had enjoyed matching wits with James and holding her own, and deep down had to admit it was almost…arousing.

"And James was sort of grinning, like you two were having fun. Almost flirting." Sandra was watching her hesitantly, as if waiting for her to blow up.

"Until he completely humiliated me by turning me into a cat!" Lily said. She shook off her friends and stopped to stare at them. "What are you trying to say?"

"We saw James last night," said Sandra in a rush. "When he got back from McGonagall's office. He looked awful and just went straight upstairs. Remus and Peter said he felt terrible about what happened."

"Of course he does," said Lily, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she glared at them. "He got a month's detention. No more sneaking out to Hogsmeade or snogging Anastaia Harrison."

"I don't think that's why he was upset," said Mary, frowning. "I think he felt awful about what he did to you. Besides, he didn't snog Anastasia. He stopped Avery from pawing her and walked away." Mary paused. "At least, that's what Peter said. Lily, you almost sound jealous."

"Disgusted is more like it," huffed Lily, starting back toward the Great Hall. "She's a slag and he's a wanker for even looking at her."

"Who said he was interested in her?" pressed Mary. "Besides, I thought he was with Cynthia Morris."

Lily shook her head, forcing her eyes not to well with tears as she remembered the scene at Halloween. "He's not," she admitted. "They hardly talk off the pitch anymore."

"For someone you hate, you sure know a lot about him," murmured Sandra.

Lily whirled on her friends. "Stop it! I know what you're thinking and you're wrong! If you can't let up, then leave me alone."

She walked away, making her way to the Great Hall on her own. She thought about what her friends had said and vehemently denied it to herself. James meant nothing to her, and they were wrong, what had happened in Charms had been nothing but a nightmare.

Entering the Hall, Lily deliberately sat as far from anyone as she could and opened a book. She glanced down at James and saw him picking at his food much like she was picking at hers. Maybe he really did feel bad about what had happened.

"Hey Evans, lost your mittens?" called Sirius from down the table. James gave his friend a lethal look, and Lily was glad he did, but Sirius's remark and the ensuing laughter ruined any forgiving mood she might have been feeling. She grabbed some fruit and stood.

"Sod off, Black. You're still a pig, even if you've lost the ears." She walked away with her back straight, ignoring the twitters behind her. Unfortunately, James caught up with her in the Entrance Hall. He touched her shoulder, and she jumped, immediately on the offensive.

"What do you want?" she snapped, almost regretting it when she saw both hurt and anger flash across his face.

"I wanted to apologize," he said, avoiding her livid gaze. Then he straightened and looked directly at her, his hazel eyes remorseful behind round glasses. "I'm sorry for what happened in Charms yesterday. It was an accident."

Lily swallowed. She wanted to believe him, to accept what he said, she really did. And yet as she remembered the feeling of the spell crashing into her, enveloping her and transforming her, she shook her head. The laughter from class, the whispers in the Gryffindor common room when she'd returned, and the jokes from the Great Hall rang in her ears. She would never forget it. How could she forgive something like that? How could she even like someone who had done that to her?

"I don't believe you," she finally said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You know perfectly well Transfiguration is off limits in a duel, but you did it anyway."

"I was surprised, that's all," he started, but she waved him off.

"By what? Me?" She laughed bitterly. "We were dueling, Potter—you're supposed to be ready for that sort of thing."

His eyes flashed, but he took a deep breath instead of snapping back. "It's the truth, Evans. You threw a nasty Hurling Hex at me. I just reacted, pure and simple."

"Then your reactions are bollocks. You turned me into a bloody cat!" Lily dashed at her eyes, furious that she couldn't control her emotions better. "Do you have any idea what that feels like, turning into an animal?"

James just stared at her, speechless. "Er, well…"

"It's horrifying, James. It's disgusting. It's humiliating." She went nose to nose with him and actually poked him in the chest just to vent some of her anger. "And I would have never thought that you could do that to someone, to anyone—to me." There, she had said it: yes, she was taking it personally, but who wouldn't? They were supposed to have a close working relationship, after all. How could they continue as Head Boy and Head Girl when she had suddenly lost any trust in him she might have once had? How could they ever be anything more?

"I'm sorry," he murmured again, shaking his head. "I really am."

"You think you're above the rules, James, but you're not!" she said, continuing in spite of the look on his face. She had to let it out, purge it all before she could even begin to figure out how she really felt beyond the confusion. "You're a selfish, reckless, arrogant, dishonest, immature troll, and I wish you'd just leave me alone!"

His head snapped up and his lips twisted in a scowl. "Fine. I will. But just so you know, Lily, you're a bossy, conceited, insensitive, stuck-up hag, and I hope I never have to turn you into a small animal again!"

Lily gasped and couldn't help it: she pulled her arm back and slapped him across the face as hard as she could. Her hand left a deep red welt across his cheek. He turned slowly back to her, his eyes wide, and Lily felt her insides twist with guilt as they just stared at one another. But a voice from down the corridor snapped them both out of it.

"Ms. Evans, Mr. Potter." Professor Dumbledore gave them each a firm glance through his horn-rimmed spectacles. "I'd like to see you both in my office. Now."

She didn't look at James once as they left the Entrance Hall and walked toward the Headmaster's office. She didn't think she could: she'd either hit him again or burst into tears. They had quite likely just crossed that line Sirius had warned her about.

James sat outside Professor Dumbledore's office, leg bouncing as he waited for the Headmaster to finish his discussion with Lily. He wasn't nervous, exactly; he deserved whatever was coming his way, after all. He was more worried for Lily than for himself. He might have just called her a stuck-up hag, but he didn't want to see her get in trouble for slapping him because of it. He simply wanted to get the dress-down over with and move on.

The door opened and Lily stepped through with her head down. James jumped up, concerned.

"Are you okay?" he asked immediately.

She looked up at him, eyes wide, but she wasn't crying. She didn't answer immediately, either, just simply stared at him as if surprised he were even there. For a moment James was afraid she was going to start shouting at him again, or worse, slap him, but she simply shook her head as she walked away.

"He'll see you now," she said. He barely heard her murmur, "Good luck" before she had started down the spiral staircase without looking back.

James sighed and entered the office. It looked the same as every other time he'd been there over the years, which was quite a few. He saw the phoenix perched in the corner, the odd silver instruments littering the tables, and two chintz chairs in front of the fireplace.

Professor Dumbledore was sitting in one, a small dish of cherry cordials on the table in front of him. He glanced back at James and motioned at him to join him in the empty chair, then offered a sweet.

"No, thank you, sir," said James, sitting uncomfortably in the soft chair. He was far more used to standing stoically across from the desk while getting reprimanded. This felt more like a subtle interrogation.

"So how are you doing, James?" asked Dumbledore.

James stared at him, caught unprepared by the blunt yet friendly and concerned question. "Fine, sir," he finally answered, even though it was not entirely true.

"Ready for your first match tomorrow?" continued Dumbledore, as if having a perfectly normal conversation over dinner. He seemed completely unconcerned with the fact that his Head Boy and Head Girl had just had not one, but two, horrific fights.

"Yes, sir," James replied, though again he felt like he was not quite telling the truth. He had almost forgotten about the Quidditch game with everything that had happened with Lily. But he was worried about the match—and Avery in particular.

"And how is your father?" asked Dumbledore. "Will he be able to make it?"

"No, sir," said James. "I don't think he's up for it, not with the weather we've been having."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Yes, well, the best thing one can do when it's raining is to simply let it rain."

"Yes, sir," murmured James, confused. It reminded him of something Sirius had said; he was sure there was a deeper meaning to it, but he couldn't puzzle it out.

They were silent for a moment, though James could feel the headmaster studying him.

"James, forgive me for being so inquisitive, but I've noticed that things are not going particularly well between you and Ms. Evans this year."

"The whole school's noticed," James muttered. "Sir."

"Indeed," replied Dumbledore, bringing his hands together under his chin. "The events of the past few days in particular make me to wonder if everything is indeed all right, James."

James sighed again. It was like talking to his father over the summer, only far more awkward and uncomfortable. "Yes, sir, it's only…"

"Yes?"

"We just don't get along at all." James paused, waiting for Dumbledore to say something, but the headmaster only nodded at James to continue. "We fight all the time. We have since the first day on the Hogwarts Express. I didn't mean to turn her into a cat in Charms, but she was really having a hard go at me."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Yes, Professor Flitwick told me about that. He was rather impressed with your spellcasting, if not your unprofessional dueling."

"I know," James said miserably, shaking his head. He adjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his hair, his nerves starting to fray even though he had been through far worse in the Headmaster's office. "I know it's against the rules, I really do, but I just reacted, and that's what came out."

"And where did you learn that particular spell? Professor McGonagall said you haven't started the more complex animal transfigurations in class yet."

James looked away. He couldn't very well admit to the headmaster that animal transfiguration was a snap for him because he did it several times a month. Instead, he kept that part to himself and offered a half-truth.

"I read about it," he said with a shrug. "Transfiguration is one of my stronger subjects."

"Apparently," murmured Dumbledore, studying him once more. James shifted under the scrutiny.

"Well, as impressive as the spell might have been, it did breach dueling etiquette," said Dumbledore. "Your detentions stand, though I have no doubt it will make your classes, practice, and Head Boy duties much more difficult."

"Yes, sir," said James, his voice quiet.

Dumbledore popped another cordial into his mouth. "Is there anything else on your mind, James?"

Sitting up straighter, James turned to the headmaster, his mind suddenly made up. He'd been thinking about it for days, if not weeks, and now it seemed not only the best thing to do, but the right thing to do. "I think it would be better for me to turn in my badge and let someone else take over. I think you've given it the wrong person."

Dumbledore nodded as if he understood—or maybe he agreed. James felt his heart sink as he slowly unpinned the badge from his robes. His eyes pricked with tears, but he swallowed them back as he placed the badge on the table between them. Dumbledore did not move to take it, but only sighed.

"It is of course your decision, James," he said. "Why don't I simply hold this for you until next week? If you are still certain you would like to resign the position, then I will try to find another suitable student capable of taking over. But if you change your mind, it will be waiting for you."

He stood up, and James quickly followed. "I won't change my mind, Professor. I've failed too many times this year. I can't keep letting you down."

"My boy," said Dumbledore, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a piercing look over the top of his spectacles. "You have only to worry about letting yourself down."

James nodded, knowing he was dismissed, and turned to leave. His hand was on the door when the headmaster called him back.

"James, remember this: bad weather always looks worse through the window."

"Sir?" asked James, completely misunderstanding whatever the headmaster was trying to tell him.

"Sometimes you must step outside to truly gage the elements. Have a good day."

James pulled the door shut behind him and walked slowly down the spiral staircase, his mind a numb jumble of conflicting thoughts as he tried to puzzle out the meaning behind the headmaster's enigmatic words. He could only think of one thing, though, and that was the badge he had turned in and left behind. He had hoped to feel relieved by relinquishing his position as Head Boy, only he didn't—he felt worse. And he couldn't decide what he was going to miss more: the job itself…or the Head Girl.

End Notes:

The first quote from Dumbledore is by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The second is from an unknown source, to which I appended my own bit of dubious wisdom.

Thank you once more to Lea/mugglegirlmarauder for laughing and squeeing with me through this one. We had great fun with the insults in the first part. In fact, all credit for James being a troll and Lily being a hag must go to her, although I take credit for the many descriptive adjectives prefacing them.

Did you think they were going to get together already? Didn't my evil author grin clue you in? Should I apologize? Nah - time for Quidditch!