A/N: Again, so many reviews! Love it! Thanks to: PotterAddict264, Don't Forget Us, Book-Mania-Girl520, skazmi, jak23, .forever2116, , marinewife08, JanistheGiant, Cassie Weasley, Aen 06, fitBrit1031, teteeee, i3fiction-novels, EchoNightFall22, Kylee, Katara Watertribe, existence555, DarlingILoveYou, Evisawesome, Darth Riven, TechnoGlitter ExWhimsicalFairy, MaryandMerlin, Helli, and MissArtemisFowl!

Also, to my fellow Americanites—hope you all had lovely Thanksgivings and ate lots of yummy food!

Chapter 16: Your Mistake

"Ugh, I hate rounds!" I declared the next evening in the library. Madame Pince, the young but already crotchety librarian, shot me a scandalized look for my outburst. "Sorry," I said to her, then lowered my voice. "They're so boring."

"Then don't go," A.J. suggested. We'd been studying in the library for the past two hours, or trying to at least. And before your mind goes where I know it will, no, we were not snogging—I refused to be one of those couples. The reason we'd accomplished little in the way of homework was mostly A.J.'s fault. He'd work for about two minutes, then throw down his quill in frustration, claiming that he couldn't concentrate. I would argue that he couldn't make that claim, because he hadn't even tried to focus, he would complain that I was too swotty for my own good (teasingly, of course), I would demand that he apologize (he would) and we'd go back to working for a bit before the cycle started all over again.

These frequent interruptions weren't the only thing that was preventing me from attaining my usual work ethic. I kept catching myself staring at A.J. (when he wasn't looking), watching the way a tiny crease appeared between his eyes for those brief moments when he was concentrating, and the way the muscles of his forearm would tense and stretch as he wrote . . .

Like I said, we hadn't gotten much done.

"I can't skip them—McGonagall would find out; you know she would. Plus, Remus won't be there, so I'd feel even more guilty—"

"Why won't Lupin be there?" A.J. interrupted.

Shit! He doesn't know about Remus being a werewolf! God, Lily, why are you such an idiot? "Er, he's—ah . . .sick," I invented lamely, suddenly appreciating the convincing, though flippant, way James had always been able to make excuses for his friend.

A.J. either didn't notice my hesitation, or chose to ignore it. "Oh, well then—do you want me to come with you? Merlin knows I won't get anything done without you here to nag me."

"You haven't gotten anything done with me here, either," I pointed out, putting my books away.

A.J. grinned. "True. So?"

"No, that's all right—I don't mind doing them myself. Besides, I have to get away from you somehow so I can get some work done later!"

"What, are you planning on locking yourself in a room whose location will remain unknown to me after rounds?"

"Exactly," I said with a wink, standing and swinging my bag over my shoulder.

"Too bad," A.J. said with a fake sigh. "I could have carried your bag up for you otherwise."

I hesitated, and finally let my bag slide off my shoulder again. "Okay, but I will leave again if you start distracting me," I warned.

"See you in the common room," A.J. said, ignoring my warning.

I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "Bye."

I started along the second floor corridor, knowing it was still too early for people to hit up the usual snogging spots on the upper floors. Which is all the excitement we usually encountered on rounds—I'd much rather have actual trouble-making, trust me, because there is nothing more awkward or embarrassing than first, walking in on a snogging couple and, instead of being able to simply walk quickly away, having to actually break them up and dole out punishment. No wonder prefects were never popular.

Passing my Arithmancy classroom, I glared fiercely at it. That was one subject I still had left to tackle tonight. Maybe I could tell Professor Epsilon I was having relationship problems, and that's why I hadn't done my homework. After all, it was half true—A.J. was the reason I wasn't getting anything done—and as with most of our male professors, I was sure Epsilon would be more likely to accept that as an excuse, not wanting to deal with teenage girl issues. As I was contemplating whether it was feasible to assume he'd believe me, I turned a corner to find James halfway down the next corridor, eyes trained on an ancient-looking bit of parchment. He looked up as I approached him, grinning, and shoved the paper into the pocket of his robes.

"What was that?" I asked, nodding at the place the parchment had just disappeared into.

"Nothing," James replied.

I highly doubted that. But if he didn't want to tell me, I knew there was no way I could get it out of him. "Well, what are you doing here, then?" I asked instead.

"Wondering if you'd like some company, seeing as your usual partner in crime is currently shacking up." Potter grinned at his own cleverness.

I rolled my eyes at the double meaning. "So, were you waiting for me or something?" I asked, ignoring his comment.

James sighed tiredly. "Evans, what have I said about the stalking thing?"

"Well, then, how did you know I'd be coming by here?" I retorted, figuring I had him with that one. Not that I was sure why I was trying to make him admit he was stalking me.

"I knew you'd gone to the library, so I was on my way down to find you."

Oh. Well, that makes sense—damn. "How'd you know I was in the library?" I asked a moment later, remembering that he hadn't been in the common room when I'd left.

"You're always in the library," Potter answered simply.

Wish I hadn't asked.

"So, was that a yes to wanting company, then?" Potter continued pleasantly.

"I suppose," I said, pretending to sound resigned, but secretly glad to have him there—he'd undoubtedly make rounds more interesting and less torturous than doing them myself. I immediately felt a little guilty as well; I hadn't forgotten that I'd turned down this exact offer from A.J. not ten minutes ago.

More to distract myself from my conscience than anything, I said, "Don't tell me you're done with all your homework already?"
"Okay, I won't," James replied easily.

I stopped. "Wait, are you saying you are done?"

He smirked at me. "Well, which is it: do you want me to tell you or not?"

I huffed in annoyance and started walking again. "How do you always do that?"

"I offered to tutor you, remember."

I rolled my eyes. "And I'm still passing on that."

"Well, I'm sure you're currently behind on work for entirely different reasons," Potter said. Shooting me a crooked grin, he added, "I may not have known for sure that you were in the library, but I did hear A.J. tell his mates he was going down there. And I know how books turn you on, so . . ."

"Actually, we were studying, I'll have you know," I said, but my traitorous cheeks burned at Potter's suggestive tone.

"Sure you were."

"Anyway," I said pointedly, "I'm not discussing that with you."

"Okay," James said, unfazed. After a moment of silence, he added, almost musingly, "So, your Patronus is a doe, huh?"

I sighed. "Would you stop bringing that up?"

Potter raised his eyebrows. "That's the first time I've said anything about it. It only happened yesterday, after all."

"Oh," I said, blushing again. I guess I'd been thinking about it so much it had only seemed like Potter had brought it up before. "Well, go ahead, get your teasing out of the way, then."

"I wasn't going to tease you," he protested. "I was just going to say the fact that our Patronuses compliment each other is—"

"Disturbing," I said, nodding.

"Well, I was going to say 'interesting', but—"

"You would think it's interesting," I muttered. "Whereas I, on the other hand, find the fact that a reflection of my inner self somehow matches yours incredibly unsettling."

James just laughed. "I always told you we were more alike than you thought."

"You've never told me that," I retorted.

"Well, I'm telling you now, then. And you see how I'm not making any comments about . . . certain other things that it could suggest? Proud of me?"

"Incredibly," I said sardonically. But I had, actually, noticed the difference between this exchange and what it would have looked like if the Patronus incident had occurred, say, a year ago. That was part of what had occupied my mind since I'd seen James's stag beside my doe. I cringed to think what Marlene, Dorcas, or even Mary would have said: undoubtedly, something about how this proved that James and I were 'meant to be together' or some such rot. Which in turn had made me incredibly grateful I was currently dating A.J., because it meant that, though all three of them had seen our matching Patronuses, none of them had commented on it.

"All right—new topic again?"

"Please."

"Right . . . well, we've been friends for, what, over two months now? High time I found out more about you, wouldn't you say?"

"I guess," I agreed warily.

"What do your parents do?"

I breathed a little sigh of relief. That seemed like a fairly safe question. "My dad works in insurance—that's boring even in the Muggle world, so I won't bother explaining it to you—and my mum teaches kindergarten—uh, that's the first year of Muggle school, when you're five."

James raised an eyebrow. "What can you possibly teach to five-year-olds?"

"Er, not much," I admitted. "She's basically just a glorified babysitter."

James laughed. "And you don't have any other siblings besides the charming Petunia?"

"No, unfortunately." I cocked my head to the side slightly. "Or perhaps fortunately, because then that's less people who hate me."

He didn't laugh at that.

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, I quickly added, "So, what about you? You're an only child, right?"

James nodded. "Yeah. And my mum used to work as a reporter for the Daily Prophet, but she quit when I was born and hasn't gone back since."

"And your dad?"

"He worked at the Ministry—Department of International Magical Cooperation—but he died when I was ten." He cracked a wry smile. "So I guess you could say he's retired now, too."

Leave it to Potter to be able to joke about his dead father. "Merlin, Potter, I'm sorry."

"No, don't worry about it—I asked you about your family, fully expecting you to ask about mine in return. Besides, it was six years ago, so I'm—well, not over it, because I don't think I'll ever be over it, but I'm all right." He smiled again.

I smiled back, suddenly feeling . . . well, something towards him. Sympathy, I guess. Which was quite a new emotion where Potter was concerned.

"Should we move on to favorite colors?" James suggested. "That seems fairly neutral, don't you think? Mine's green."

"Well, objectively, I like the color orange," I said after a moment's contemplation. "But I look hideous in orange, so as far as my favorite color to wear, I'd have to say either blue or purple."

"Not green?" Potter prompted.

"No, because I think it's cliché to dress to match your eyes."

"Right, of course. Honestly, Evans, only you could make a simple question like 'what's your favorite color' so complicated."

I smiled slightly. "Anyway, it's my turn, since you've already answered the color question." I thought for a moment. "Oh, I know—what was your first detention? And why?" "That's two questions."

"Just shut up and answer, Potter."

"Awfully contradictory request, that, isn't it?" When I glared at him, he grinned and continued, "Fine—second week of school, Sirius and I let off dungbombs in Transfiguration, and McGonagall made us organize her office as punishment. Under her strict supervision, of course."

"I remember that—the dungbombs thing. God, that stunk. And I can't believe you provoked McGonagall, of all the teachers."

"Well, to be fair, we didn't really know she was such a hard ass at that point in our young lives. Or that she was so messy—it took us two hours just to clean out her desk."

"Yeah, I guess that is a little odd. From her personality, I'd have expected her to be obsessively organized."

"Like you," Potter said with a smirk.

I nodded in agreement. "I know, it's a little disturbing."

"The first step's admitting you have a problem."

"Right. Anyway, what is your—"

"Hey, now, it's my turn, remember? Okay, your first detention."

"I've never had one," I said, grimacing in anticipation of his reaction.

James stopped walking abruptly. Staring at me with mingled shock and horror, he whispered, "What?"

I hit his arm. "Oh, stop acting so scandalized. It's not a bad thing—you're not supposed to get them; that's why they call it detention."

"Yes but—okay, Evans, that is my new mission for the rest of the year."

I raised an eyebrow. "To get me in detention?"

Potter nodded.

"Good luck."

"Oh, I'm very good at it," he said with a smirk.

That's true. Maybe I should be worried. But aloud I said, "I'm not worried," refusing to admit otherwise to Potter. "First time on a broomstick," I continued.

"When I was two—I rode in front of my dad, just around our garden. Mum was tweaking out the entire time even so," he said with a small smile at the memory.

"And you've been hooked ever since?"

"Something like that. First time you were drunk?"

"You don't want to know about my first ride on a broomstick?" I joked.

"No, I was there for that—I still remember," he said. "You were bloody awful."

"I would be offended, if it weren't so painfully true," I said with a sigh. "And I've never been drunk, to answer your question."

"No wonder we haven't been friends until now. Well, add it to the list."

"What list?"

"The list of things I'm going to help you accomplish by the end of the year."

"The other being getting detention?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes. And flying on a broom. Properly."

"Not going to happen, Potter."

"We'll see."

"First kiss," I fired at him, changing the subject.

Potter grinned at me. "Getting into the good stuff, eh? Hmm, let me think—I've got to go so far back . . ."

I hit him again. "Shut up, no you don't. I know you're not as much of a player as you'd like everyone to think."

"You know that, do you? What, been keeping tabs on all my snogs?"

"Gross—of course not. You're really bad at answering questions, you know."

"Katerina Haven," he said.

I frowned, trying to picture her. "Wait, didn't she graduate last year?"

"Yep."

"You're first snog was with someone two years older than you?"

"Impressed?"

"I don't know," I muttered.

Potter laughed. "It was great, though, because she knew exactly what she was doing, I mean her—"

"Okay," I interrupted hurriedly. "I just asked who your first kiss was—I don't need a description."

"All right—your turn. Even though Rookie's your first boyfriend, I know he can't be the first bloke you've kissed."

"What, been keeping tabs on my snogs, Potter?" I said, copying him, though he was right—even though I'd freaked out a little holding hands with A.J., my first kiss hadn't been the one at the end of our date. I know, that doesn't really make sense, but I'm just weird like that.

He grinned. "Clearly not—otherwise I wouldn't have to ask who your first kiss was, would I?"

I wrinkled my nose. "I'm not telling you."

"You have to."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do—that's how this game works, Evans."

I sighed. "Okay, fine. But you have to promise not to tease."

"I can't promise anything."

I sighed again. "I can't believe I'm about to tell you this," I muttered, almost to myself. "It was Michael Smet."

James looked at me with almost as much horror as when I'd admitted I'd never had detention. "No it wasn't," he said at once.

"What do you—yes it was! I think I would know, Potter."

"You snogged Michael Smet?"

"We didn't snog, per say—it was more of a peck on the lips. And it wasn't even a real kiss—I somehow let Mary drag me into playing spin the bottle in third year."

"Sorry I missed that," Potter said, and winced when I gave him a look. "No, that's not how I meant it—honest. I just meant . . . well, I don't know what I meant. You distracted me with this Michael Smet business. Well, since spin the bottle doesn't really count, who was your second kiss?"

"A.J."

"What? You kissed Smet and then you didn't kiss anyone else for three years?"

"Well, would you?" I asked dryly. "I was slightly traumatized."

Potter smirked at me. "Good point. Yeah, after him, I imagine anyone would seem like a fabulous kisser. Although, on further reflection, I suppose Smet isn't too horrible. To be honest, I was a little afraid at first that you were going to say Snape," he said jokingly.

I came to a dead stop so quickly Potter took a few more steps before realizing I was no longer beside him. As he turned, the half-formed smirk on his face froze when he caught sight of my expression.

"I—sorry, Evans, I didn't—it was just a joke—" he stuttered.

"Right, because we're such good friends you think we can joke about that?" I demanded scornfully. "More to the point, why does everything have to be a joke with you? Did it ever cross your mind that I'll never think what you did to him was funny?"

"It wasn't my fault he said all that stuff to you," Potter retorted angrily.

"That's not—I didn't say that!"

"Yeah, but that's why you're mad. That's what you yelled at me about at the end of last year. You never said a thing about what I'd done to him, all you wanted to do was blame me for the fact that you two were no longer friends."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I mean, yes, I had said those things to Potter last year, but that's not what we were talking about now! I was too angry to say anything, so I just turned on my heel and started off back down the corridor.

James hurried after me, catching my wrist and forcing me to face him again. "You can't just walk away, Lily—we have to talk about this." Fury pounding through me, I barely noticed that he'd called me by my first name. "If we're going to be friends—"

"Maybe we're not. Maybe we can't be."

Silence. Both of us stared at each other for several minutes and, miraculously, I found I wasn't angry anymore. Sighing, I walked over and sat down against one wall of the corridor. "I know it wasn't your fault," I said quietly.

"I know," James replied, sliding down to sit beside me. "And I know you don't think any of it was funny—I didn't mean to give you the impression that I did. I shouldn't have said—well, anyway, I . . ." he trailed off.

"You what?"

"It was stupid, some of the stuff I did to Snape. But not all of it."

I thought about that for a moment, and decided I could live with it. "Okay."

"Okay . . ." he repeated, confused.

"Okay, that's acceptable as an—well, apology isn't really the right word—an explanation."

James looked at me warily. "It is?"

"Yes—what?"

"It's just—you've never become . . . un-angry so quickly. It usually takes a week, at least," he said with a small smirk.

"Well, I'm trying to work on that. And I really didn't mean all that stuff I said to you last year. Or just now."

"Right. And since we're on the subject of apologies, I'm sorry for yesterday during Defense—I didn't really get to apologize properly because I was distracted by our Patronuses." His smirk widened. "But I shouldn't have told you what to do—"

"Good to see you've finally learned that."

Potter laughed. "Anyway, I guess I was just . . . jealous," he said, his smile fading. "That A.J.—well, he doesn't ever have to know about Snape, whereas I . . . it's always going to be this thing between you and I. And I'm not saying it's your fault, or Snape's—if anything, it's mine—but—"

"Did you not listen to a thing I said?" I interrupted, a little exasperated. "I just got done telling you it's not your fault. All of it . . . it happened, and yeah, it wasn't exactly rainbows and butterflies, but I think we can move past it. I mean, I think I can move past it."

James was quiet for a moment. "So . . . friends?"

"Friends," I agreed.

"Good. I didn't—" But whatever he had been about to say was cut off by a voice that issued from somewhere around James's middle.

"Prongs!"

We both jumped. "What the hell was that?" I asked.

"Sirius," James said cryptically, and I watched with increasing confusion that quickly turned to astonishment as he pulled a mirror out of his pocket which, instead of being reflective of the area around it, showed Sirius's face. "What, Padfoot?" James asked, sounding annoyed.

Sirius glared up at him. "What do you mean 'what'? Where in the bloody hell are you? We're about to go down to the—"

"Okay, I'll be right there," James cut in hurriedly with a brief glance at me. Sirius's face disappeared and James stowed the mirror in his pocket again. "Sorry Evans," he said, turning to me, "I forgot that I've got to—well, I have somewhere I've got to be."

"What was that mirror thing?"

"Sirius and I invented them so we could talk to each other when we were in separate detentions," James explained, smiling.

I raised an eyebrow. "Of course," I said sarcastically, though I was slightly impressed. "And where exactly are you going?"

"Can't tell you," Potter said with a grin.

I rolled my eyes. "I could follow you," I threatened.

"But you won't," Potter countered confidently.

"Fine, go on—get out of here," I said resignedly.

With a last grin, James disappeared around the end of the corridor. I set off in the opposite direction, once again facing the boring prospect of rounds alone. Well, I was right about one thing, I mused, Potter certainly did make it interesting while he was here. I was still surprised at myself for backing down so quickly earlier. Potter was right—I did usually need a few days to cool off after we had a big fight. Especially when it concerned Sev, who'd always been a touchy and taboo subject with James and I. But somehow, being friends with James changed that. He was right about that, too—it was something we had to deal with if we wanted to get along.

Sure, I was still a little angry with Potter for trying to make a joke about it, but that was basically how he dealt with everything. Which was another thing I'd have to accept if I wanted to be his friend. But I think I can handle that, though.

Still in a contemplative mood by the time ten o'clock rolled around, I didn't fancy returning to the common room to do homework. Knowing A.J. would probably be mad at me for ditching him, but also figuring he seemed to be the kind of person who was quick to forgive, I started down into the Entrance Hall. I grabbed a spare cloak out of a cupboard near the stairs I'd discovered a couple years ago. I had no idea what its purpose was, except to service students struck with a sudden fancy to wander outside on a winter night. Normally, with my hatred of the cold, this wouldn't include me, but tonight was an exception, for some reason.

Crossing to the oak front doors, I smile wryly to myself. Curfew had begun an hour ago, and while I was permitted to be out late for rounds, anything after that was at my own risk. Maybe I'll get that first detention without Potter's help after all.

My feet led me absently towards the lake, and I stood for a minute admiring the full moon reflected in the black water. Starting off around the edge of the lake, my thoughts wandered to Remus, knowing that he was even now in the Shrieking Shack, fully transformed. I wondered again how he could stand that every month—not that he really had a choice, of course. But it just seemed so awful . . .

Caught up as I was with thoughts of werewolves, it was a moment before I realized the howling I was hearing was real, and not just conjured by my over-active imagination. When it finally registered in my ears, I spun quickly, heart hammering, and what I saw nearly made me faint with fear.

A/N: It's been a while since I had a tried and true cliffhanger in this story….so there you go! (PotterAddict264—hope this satisfies your request for a pick up in the pace—I was amused when I read your review, b/c one of the things you suggested is definitely going to happen in the next chapter!)

Also, interesting side note: I actually went to high school with someone named Michael Smet—nice kid, and I didn't mean to hate on him by using his name for such an unfortunate person as Lily's less-than-pleasant first kiss, but I just have such a hard time coming up with names that sometime I settle for using ones of people I used to know.

Oh, and no hard feelings (I hope!) if any of you are/know someone who is a kindergarten teacher.