A/N: An extra-special thank you with cherries on top to last week's reviewers: Cassie Weasley, Silver Scorpion, A La DarkAngel, EchoNightFall22, totally anonymous reviewer who didn't leave any sort of name—you know who you are, I guess!, emandem, Mrs. Belikov814, marinewife08, theycallherkaush, Evisawesome, BrokenFaerie16, and MaryandMerlin!
Why extra-special, you ask? Well, this week I happened to receive this little gem from 'Rose':"Are you really 22 years old to write like this? Lily's thougts, words and actions are immature. The characters have no depth. The writing style seems childish and is so "american". Are american people that ignorant of other countries?"
And because it was left anonymously, I've decided to post my reply here for your enjoyment:
Rose—First, I would like to congratulate you on making an anonymous review. Very brave. Unfortunately, it also means that I am unable to reply to you in a private manner. Hence, I'm posting my reply here.
Though normally I welcome constructive criticism, yours was neither constructive nor critical. It was rather vague and actually quite offensive. If you had pointed out something wrong with my story/writing/how I portray my characters using specific examples, I would have been happy to try and fix it (as I've done for others who have reviewed with comments or suggestions for improvement). However, merely telling me that you find Lily "immature" isn't that helpful, particularly considering that she is, in fact, a teenager. And sometimes teenagers are immature. I know—a shocking revelation.
As far as my writing style being "American" . . . I'm not entirely sure what you're trying to imply by this. That Americans can't write? Tell that to Mark Twain or Ernest Hemingway. Regardless, I might have been able to look past this comment if you had not gone on to suggest that my writing implies that I am ignorant of other countries. I am completely lost as to how my writing style relates to cultural sensitivity. Perhaps J.K. Rowling is also ignorant of other countries because she writes in a British style? (alas, I cannot claim credit for this argument, as it was given to me by one of my friends after I showed her your review, but I agree with it nonetheless).
I'm sure you won't actually read this, but I felt the need to reply anyway. Then again, who knows? You did wait until chapter 12 to leave the above review….
...
Well, that was fun! Now, on to Chapter 13!
Chapter 13: Work in Progress
When classes resumed, I fell back into more or less my usual rhythm with Potter. Essentially, nothing had changed. For one thing, we still called each other 'Potter' and 'Evans.' I guess it had become something of a habit over the years, one that neither of us gave a second thought to breaking. And really, we barely interacted outside of class, just as we always had. So despite my 'New Year's resolution,' as Potter had endearingly termed it, I wasn't quite sure if we were actuallyfriends. It wasn't like any friendships I'd ever had, anyway. But then, I'd never tried to become friends with someone I'd formerly hated with a fiery passion, so perhaps this was normal. Or perhaps the still sane part of me was protesting the change by showing me all the ways Potter and I appeared not to be friends.
Either way, Potter did offer to sit with Mary and I at Andrew's Quidditch match on the first Saturday of term, which I suppose was a friendly thing to do. Sirius and Peter came as well—Remus was . . . incapacitated; it was a full moon again.
"Okay, so, we're rooting for Ravenclaw," Mary said as we sat down, apparently feeling that, with my inexperience surrounding Quidditch, I need to be talked through every aspect.
I gave my friend a withering glare. "Mary, honestly, I'm not that thick—who would cheer for Slytherin, anyway?"
"Of course, sorry," she replied, though a little distractedly, as she was intent upon the Quidditch changing rooms, waiting for the teams to appear. It was fairly windy up in the magically raised stands, and I pulled my long red hair into a hasty ponytail and stuffed it under my hat to keep it out of my face.
"Though, ironically," Potter commented, "if Slytherin were to win, that would actually put us in better standing for the Cup."
"But, as Lily rightly put it, there's no way we'd be caught cheering for them, even so," Sirius added, looking at Potter shrewdly.
"Right, well, I'm just letting her know—fun fact sort of a thing," Potter defended.
"Thanks, Potter," I said.
"Just looking out for you, Evans, as always," he replied.
And as the game began, I realized just how much Potter, Sirius, and even Peter knew about Quidditch. All of them shouted suggestions to the players—even though there was no way any of them would hear us above the roaring of the crowd—and barraged the ref, Archie Harrod, whenever he made what was in their minds a bad call.
I didn't even need to listen to the commentary, as Potter kept up a far more detailed one beside me. I guess he felt obligated to make sure I understood what was going on, and while in the past I might have been offended at his assumption of my ignorance (though he would have been right), now I found it sort of sweet, actually. Besides, he knew far more than I could have hoped to figure out on my own.
"So, since Slytherin's Beaters have cleared the way, Hawley's going to try and score," he explained, pointing to their lead Chaser, currently streaking unimpeded towards the Ravenclaw goal. "And Mackey's—aw, come on!" Hawley had scored, punching his fist into the air in triumph.
"Even I could tell he was going for the left hoop," Peter said in frustration.
"Yeah, Mackey's really gotta get it together," Sirius agreed.
"Excuse me, but I don't appreciate you all slagging on my boyfriend," Mary said indignantly from my left. I reached behind Potter to give Sirius a shove.
"That was from Mary," I explained when he shot me an angry look.
"Thank you, Lily," Mary said smugly.
"Well, he isn't playing well," Sirius muttered defensively, though, luckily for him, Mary didn't hear this time.
OOOOOOOO
The game had lasted an hour so far, and I was still thoroughly enjoying myself, to my great surprise. Ravenclaw had just taken a time out, and Sirius turned to me with a cheeky grin.
"So, Lily, how do you feel now that you're longer a Quidditch virgin?"
I rolled my eyes at his phrasing. "Like a natural woman," I said sardonically, causing both Potter and Sirius to laugh.
"Well, if you think this is orgasmic," Sirius continued, "you'll have to come see us at our match in February."
"If it'll make you stop with the analogies between Quidditch and sex—which is frankly a little disturbing—then, sure." I frowned, suddenly realizing what he'd said. "Wait, 'us'? Is that a collective 'us', as in 'Gryffindor', or are you on the team?"
Sirius looked as though I'd just insulted every member of his family. Okay, so, considering he hated nearly his entire family, that was a bad metaphor, but you get the idea.
"You're joking, right, Evans?" This issued not from Sirius, but from Potter, who was also looking at me incredulously.
"Er, no," I said slowly, hoping they wouldn't throw me from the stands for admitting what was apparently an unacceptable lack of knowledge.
Sirius clutched his heart dramatically. "I—I don't even know how to go on—"
"Oh calm down, Sirius," Mary said, frowning at him. "Lily hasn't ever been to a game—how could you expect her to know you play?"
"That is hardly the point, Macdonald," Sirius said. "I—"
But what exactly the point was, I never found out, because at that moment, play resumed, and everyone's attention was immediately captivated once more. Though Peter did have time to add quietly to me, "He plays Beater."
"Thank you, Peter," I said, glancing sideways at Potter, who was smirking.
A few minutes later, he was explaining another play to me. "Okay, so, see how the Ravenclaw Chasers are flying in sort of a 'V' shape?" I nodded. "Well, they're making it look like the one at the front is going to score but . . . see, right there, he made a reverse pass to give the Quaffle to the Chaser behind him on the left, and now she's—" Cheers drowned out Potter's next words as the Chaser in question scored.
"And as a much more competent and intelligent Beater," Sirius said, placing a delicate emphasis on the last word, "I would have taken that second Chaser out before they could complete the pass."
I chose to ignore what was clearly another jab at me for not knowing Sirius played on the Gryffindor team. "How do you know so much about their plays?" I asked Potter instead.
He raised his eyebrows. "Well, as Captain, it's my business to know. Besides, Ravenclaw hasn't changed their lineup in about three years, which usually makes them a fairly easy team to beat, if you pay attention."
"I didn't know you were Captain," I said, and immediately wished I hadn't. This was apparently much worse than my ignorance concerning Sirius. Potter, Sirius, and even Peter shot me scandalized looks. Damn it, Lily, I berated myself, why can't you learn to keep your mouth shut? When I turned to Mary for support, she just shook her head. "No, you're on your own with this one, Lily. Even I will admit that your ignorance is stunning."
I sighed impatiently. "Honestly, it's not that bad," I said. "I mean, it's not too strange to assume no one in their right mind would ever give Potter anything that requires a modicum of responsibility." When the others merely continued to stare at me, I tried again. "I can't be the only one who didn't know that."
Potter snorted. "No, I really think you are, actually. May I also point out that your other argument was faulty as well, since you said yourself only a couple weeks ago that I could be responsible."
"And I was properly shocked by that, too, if you remember," I retorted.
"Don't worry, Lily, Prongs takes everything to do with Quidditch very seriously," Sirius assured me with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, good, I wouldn't have been able to sleep tonight if I'd thought otherwise."
OOOOOOOO
The game ended shortly after that in a Slytherin victory of 210-90, which Sirius and Potter protested loudly along with every other non-Slytherin, but were secretly pleased about, considering the benefits for their own team. Or, our own team, as I should start thinking of it if I wanted to become 'a proper Quidditch fan,' Potter was kind enough to inform me. Mary had gone to console Andrew, while Sirius and Peter were currently walking ahead of Potter and I, recounting the finer points of the match
"Well, I'm not sure I want to be a 'proper fan'—I've already been attacked twice today for what I thought were trivial things," I said seriously.
"Knowing who plays on the team and who its Captain is? Those are hardly trivial matters, Evans. Everyone who's actually attended this school for at least a year knows that much if not more about his or her own House team. Besides, if you're still trying to be friends with me, a general liking of and interest in Quidditch wouldn't go amiss," he added with a grin.
"If I'd known it was going to be this difficult, I'd never have suggested it," I said jokingly.
"I think you're more than up to the challenge," Potter said.
"Well, thank you."
"As for the Quidditch thing, at least say you'll come to our next game in three weeks. You basically promised me you would over the holiday, anyway."
"I did no such thing—don't try and guilt me into this, Potter," I said warningly. "But since today wasn't nearly as boring as I thought it would be, I guess I could handle a second game. Though it will be much less exciting without your brilliant commentary," I teased.
Potter stopped walking to face me, but didn't say anything.
"What?"
"You just complimented me."
"What? No I . . ." I thought back over what I'd just said. "Oh. I guess I did. Well, you're welcome."
"Thank you," Potter said, grinning at our backwards exchange. We started walking again. "Although, by the end of the game, I'll probably wish I were sitting with you instead of playing," he continued, sounding a little bitter.
"Why's that?"
"Chloe quit the team."
"Why?" I asked again. "I mean, okay, I imagine I could guess the reason, but . . . can she do that?"
Potter shrugged. "Apparently," he grumbled.
"So now you have no Seeker," I said, sympathetic to the mess this left Potter in. I knew enough about Quidditch to know that playing without a Seeker was possible, but winning without one was about as likely as a Niffler choosing a dull rock from a pile of shiny gold galleons.
"Well, that's not strictly true—we do have a reserve player, Robbie March. But he's only a second year, and not nearly as good as Chloe was. So unless I can miraculously locate a brilliant Seeker in the next week or so . . . we'll probably lose to Hufflepuff—bad enough in itself—and be out of the running for the Cup."
"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it. I knew how much Quidditch meant to Potter, even though I didn't quite understand the obsession.
He smiled at me. "Thanks, Evans." Suddenly, he reached out and tapped the shoulder of a small girl walking near him. I recognized her as one of the younger Gryffindor students—maybe first or second year. "Hey, sorry to bother you," Potter began, "but do you know who the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain is?"
The girl looked slightly thrown off by the question, not to mention flustered by being addressed by the James Potter. "Er, you?" she replied tentatively.
"Thanks," Potter said, turning triumphantly to me.
I rolled my eyes. "That hardly proves I was the only one in the school who didn't know that—plus, that girl was a Gryffindor."
"So are you, Evans," Potter pointed out.
Well, I couldn't argue with that.
OOOOOOOO
At the end of the second week in February, Potter came up to me in the common room. "Hey, Evans, I found a Seeker," he said excitedly.
I looked up from my Arithmancy homework. "That's great," I said, trying not to be annoyed that he'd interrupted me while I was working—see, now that's progress. But really, he couldn't have known that I was close to having a breakthrough on a particularly difficult problem and couldn't afford lapses in concentration. Hoping to give him a hint, I turned immediately back to the parchment balanced across my lap.
"Here, I'll introduce you," he said, and I wondered briefly why he felt this was necessary. I could just find out at the game, couldn't I?
"Look, Potter, I have to—"
"McMillan! C'mere!" Potter called, ignoring my half-phrased protest.
A rather attractive fifth year boy that I recognized vaguely (I was at least familiar with most of the Gryffindors in the years directly below and above me), looked up from where he was chatting with friends and trotted over to Potter and me. He had light green, almost yellow, eyes; contrasted with his dark brown hair, they were particularly striking.
"Evans, this is A.J. McMillan, A.J., this is—"
"Lily Evans, yeah, I know," A.J. said, grinning as he reached out to shake my hand. "Nice to meet you."
"Er, you too—have we met before?" I asked, a little confused as to how he knew my name, while I wouldn't have felt confident even taking a stab at his.
"No. Well, not technically. You gave me detention once—you caught me after-hours trying to sneak into Filch's office."
I didn't exactly remember this incident, but I raised my eyes to Potter, who was smirking appreciatively at his new teammate. "Well, I can see why you like him, Potter," I said dryly.
"He's a good Seeker, too," Potter replied defensively.
"At least, that's what he's been telling almost everyone he knows," A.J. added, and he sounded embarrassed rather than smug that his Captain had been showing him off.
"Well, better hope you do well next Saturday, then, haven't you?" I said teasingly.
A.J. winced. "Yeah, we'll see—I'll either be hailed as the next big thing, or shunned for the rest of my Hogwarts career and forced to go live in Moaning Myrtle's toilet."
I laughed, and Potter clapped his Seeker on the back.
"You'll be fine," he said confidently. "I never pick losers for my team—that's why we always win," he added matter-of-factly, earning an eye roll from both me and, to my surprise, A.J. Potter, noting our shared reactions, grinned slyly at me. But before I could ask what he was thinking, he said, "And you'll appreciate this, Evans—A.J. is also one of Chloe's exes."
I snorted. "Well, I guess I should warn Sirius—looks like you've found your new best mate."
"It'll be something to bond over, anyway," Potter agreed.
"Who knew there was someone else as thick and deluded as you at this school, Potter?" I cringed after I said this and immediately turned apologetically to A.J. "Sorry, that was supposed to be a jab at Potter, not you. Merlin, don't even know you. . . I'm not usually this insensitive to people I've just met—or anyone besides Potter, for that matter."
"How kind of you, Evans," Potter interjected sardonically.
"Sorry," I repeated to A.J., ignoring Potter.
But A.J. just grinned, reminding me even more forcibly of Potter—he seemed equally immune to my insults. "'S'okay," he said easily. "I'm fully aware that dating Chloe was an idiotic move. But I'd like to think there's at least some excuse for me—I was only fourteen, young and foolish—but James . . ." he shook his head in mock disappointment.
Potter glared at him. "Practice in five minutes, McMillan," was all he said, and I instantly felt a bond with the fifth year—after all, anyone who could put down Potter that effectively must be someone worth knowing.
Potter left to round up the rest of his teammates, but A.J. turned back to me, still grinning.
"I'd tell you not to let him push you around too much at practice," I said, "but it looks like you'll be able to handle yourself just fine."
"James is a great Quidditch Captain," A.J. said. "Or, so I've heard, anyway." Potter called to A.J. again from near the portrait hole. He glanced over his shoulder, then focused his brilliant eyes on mine once more. "Well, I'll see you around, Lily," he said before following the Gryffindor team from the common room.
I returned to my Arithmancy homework, finding that I hadn't really minded the interruption at all.
OOOOOOOO
"What were you doing talking to A.J.?" Mary asked later as we headed down to dinner. She, of course, was on a first-name basis with most of the fifth through seventh year Gryffindors, especially the male half. Not because she was an air-headed flirt, however—it had more to do with the fact that her affinity for remembering names was combined with a tolerance for Marlene and Dorcas's gossip that far surpassed mine. "I thought you'd explode at James for interrupting you when you were in your Arithmancy groove"—Mary, knowing that my temper often short-circuited when I tackled the dreaded subject, had wisely moved to a different part of the common room as soon as I'd opened the book—"but you didn't seem bothered by it. In fact, you seemed to rather enjoy it," she added, a sly smile eerily similar to Potter's on her face.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Mary just shrugged nonchalantly. Apropos of nothing—at least, that's what it felt like to me—Mary went on to ask, "A.J.'s awfully good-looking, isn't he?"
"Er, I don't really—"
"Gorgeous eyes, I've always thought," Mary continued, and the false innocence in her tone made me wary.
"You'd better not let Andrew hear y—" The dim-witted romantic side of myself—she doesn't get out much—finally cottoned on. "Wait, are you trying to say that I'm attracted to A.J.? Because that's ridiculous—I don't even know him!"
Mary sighed in frustration. "That hardly matters, Lily," she said wearily.
"And what about your Potter theories?"
"Well, by definition, theories exist to be proven wrong," Mary said sweetly.
"That doesn't even make s—" I began.
"You haven't answered my question," Mary interrupted.
"I don't recall a question hidden in all that rubbish," I said irritably.
"I've asked two, actually," Mary said indignantly as we sat down across from each other at the Gryffindor table.
I sighed, taking a moment to recollect the alleged questions. "Because Potter brought him over to meet me, and yes, I suppose he is," I said finally, answering them succinctly.
Mary only had time to smile triumphantly at me before we were joined by Potter, Sirius, and, to Mary's delight (and secretly mine, I'll admit), A.J.
"Hello ladies," Sirius said with a wink.
"How was practice?" Mary asked.
"Should I go warn Moaning Myrtle she'll soon have an unexpected houseguest?" I added, mostly to A.J.
He grinned at me. "Nah, I think I'll be safe on that end."
"Oh good," I replied, heaving a fake sigh of relief. "I'd expect she'd be rather dull to live with, and toilet water really does nothing for one's complexion."
"Except maybe for yours, Evans," Sirius said with a smirk.
"You really can't resist, can you?" I asked with a sigh.
"Don't mind him," Potter said, "he's just jealous."
"Of?"
"Of your beautiful skin, of course," A.J. answered.
I tried not to blush, because I didn't want to give Mary (or Potter, for that matter, as he seemed far too amused by the situation) the satisfaction.
"Excuse me, but I have great skin!" Sirius protested indignantly. "Don't I?" he asked Mary, who had yet to participate in the (mostly absurd) conversation.
"I think you're both pretty," she said diplomatically, and Sirius didn't seem to know whether to look satisfied or offended.
"Anyway, to clarify, since we've gotten a bit off topic—yes, A.J. is, as I knew he would be, a marvelous Seeker," Potter said.
"Better than Chloe?" I asked.
"Now, Evans, that is a touchy subject for both of us; I'd appreciate it if you exercised a little sensitivity."
I rolled my eyes. "Bullshit—I know you could give a damn, Potter, because you haven't shown an iota of disappointment about it since you two broke up."
"Maybe I just haven't shown it around you," he countered.
"Yes, he's been crying himself to sleep every night," Sirius said.
Potter glared at him. "Helpful, thanks Padfoot."
"Hey, you could've just agreed with Lily, and then I wouldn't have been tempted to make you look bad."
"I can't agree with Evans, I thought you'd know that by now."
"Shame on you, Sirius," I added, shaking my head. Potter and I grinned at each other.
Mary raised her eyebrows at the pair of us. "Sometimes I do not understand you two."
OOOOOOOO
We sat and chatted long after we'd all finished eating, until I realized how late it was and reluctantly rose from the table to finish my homework.
"Who does homework?" Sirius scoffed.
"People who don't fancy McGonagall murdering them in class tomorrow," I replied, as Mary stood beside me.
"Yeah, I'd better hit the books as well," she said unenthusiastically, "if I want to finish before midnight."
"Me too," Potter said to everyone's surprise, including his. He frowned as soon as he'd spoken, cocking his head to the side slightly. "Huh. That's weird—not sure where that came from."
Sirius looked truly worried for his friend's sanity. "Prongs, what are you doing?"
"Starting my homework before nine o'clock, apparently. I might even work ahead on tomorrow's," he added with a wink, a smirk spreading across his face as Sirius's eyes widened in horror.
"What's happened to you?" he whispered. "What have you done to him?" he demanded of me in a louder voice.
I held up my hands. "Hey, this has nothing to do with me."
"Well, I'll stay a bit longer, Black, if you want," A.J. offered.
"Thank you—us sane ones must stick together for our own safety, after all."
Mary sighed, I rolled my eyes, and Potter hit his friend on the back of the head before we started from the Great Hall.
"He likes you, A.J. does," Potter said as soon as we'd cleared the doors.
"Hard as it may be for you to believe, Potter, I am a very likeable person," I said lightly, though I knew exactly what he was hinting at.
"No, I mean he likes you," he repeated, emphasizing the word so I'd be in no doubt of his meaning.
"Right, like you could even tell from that short interaction," I replied.
"Yes, I could, actually," Potter persisted.
"He called you beautiful," Mary put in.
"Exactly—thank you, Mary."
"You're welcome."
"What? No he didn't," I said, by now failing miserably in fighting the blush that had been creeping up my neck since Potter's first words out of the Hall.
"You're just in denial," Mary said.
"There was definite flirting going on, Evans. On both ends, I might add."
"Oh, she hasn't a clue what flirting looks like, James, so I wouldn't expect her to have noticed that."
"That was hurtful and cruel, Mary Macdonald," I retorted. "And you're both acting like a pair of vapid, gossipy teenage girls."
Somewhat to my amusement, both looked equally offended by this. Potter recovered first, unsurprisingly.
"Well, I bet you five galleons he'll ask you out before the end of March," he told me.
"I'm not betting—"
"Five galleons, Evans," Potter interrupted, stopping to hold out his hand for me to shake.
"Will you promise to shut up about it til then?"
Potter shrugged. "I suppose I could do that."
After a brief internal debate in which I weighed the chances of A.J. actually doing what Potter was suggesting and how much I would regret agreeing to a bet with Potter, I grasped his hand in mine and pumped it firmly. "You're on."
A/N: Okay, don't hate me for introducing the A.J. subplot. Actually, it's a pretty new development—I hadn't planned on it at all when I started this story….we'll see how it goes. And if you still don't like it, I merely point you to the story's summary, where I clearly state that James and Lily won't get together until right at the end—well, all right, not that clearly. But I'm telling you now, anyway.