A/N: Okay, I definitely meant to have this chapter posted earlier today, BUT then I had to stay an extra TWO HOURS at work, one thing led to another . . . anyway, here it is.
Lovely reviewers, you are amazing. Thanks so much to: polarbear1355, movinggirl, Cassie Weasley, Little Helper, sjm95x, Molly Raesly (thanks for the encouraging review, I loved the emerald eyes bit—so cute!), Inu13, 4herprince, steel-trap, lagirl266, WhereIsMyThumpThump, ClaraMay, AliLuvsAlli-Sirius, KneelBeforeTodd (hopefully LaT to satisfy our addiction by tomorrow, eh?), GiantPurpleRing, Sunset on Heartache, swimer123, rosey grunblatt, emandem, Iratze, Jenn222, Curious, accio-ninjaness, ottoismydog, Will Write For Food, marauders2116 (hopefully this doesn't disappear…), hple, maximum destined potter, Tabbycat270, WobblyJelly, Silver Scorpion, 19181901, jak23, xoxokat, Evisawesome, Kikicakes, PoseidonsLittleGirl, DarlingILoveYou, SeriouslySiriusBlack, thE eKLeKtiK avrge JoE (wow that was hard to type, haha!), silk399, ZoneSystems, Meeeee, EchoNightFall22, Heart of the Phoenix, marinewife08, AJAY09, MiToesesRTotallyRoses, Yreva13, Rach, BrokenFaerie16, Kiley 1 09, Bittersweet x, Elless, brittanyxedward, and Somesets!
This week's chapter is dedicated to movinggirl—hope this makes your week a little brighter!
Though all of you readers are wonderful, of course!
Oh, and because ffnet is LAME and doesn't allow the amazing-and-thoughtfully-planned-out-based-on-their-personalities-b/c-I'm-OCD-like-that fonts that I've picked for every character, they will be identified as follows:
Lily—normal (not to say she's boring and normal or anything, of course)
James—bold
A.J.—bold, italics
Mary—italics
Sirius—underlined (only has a brief 'cameo,' if you will)
Damn, now I have to go and format everything…sigh. Life is hard.
Chapter 24: Interlude II—Vacation Rain
Evans,
I feel a bit strange writing this, but I thought things seemed a little . . . weird at the end of the year, and I just wanted to, you know, make sure they, er . . . weren't. I know, my articulation and grasp of the English language is stunning. I hope you're not too awestruck to write back.
So, anything interesting happen in the last, oh, twenty-four hours since I've seen you? Well, that just makes this sound more . . . desperate? Creepy? Or, dare I say, stalker-ish? (that one's for you)
James
Potter,
I must say that it wasn't shock at your stimulating prose so much as astonishment that you finally owned up to stalking me that nearly kept me from penning this reply. Normally, I would also add some jibe about your first concern seeming, well, frankly a bit girlish, but unfortunately I have to admit that it isn't unfounded—and I have to take full responsibility for that. I always get distracted around exams, so it was nothing personal.
Funny you should ask, but in fact several interesting things have happened since I saw you last. For one, Remus actually spoke to me. Nicely, I might add. As in, I think he's forgiven me. Somehow. I don't really get it, but I won't complain!
On a less pleasant note, I think I will be forced into the company of my sister's astonishingly dull and already-prejudiced-against-me boyfriend more than anyone should be expected to handle this summer. Ah well, life goes on, right?
Lily
Lily,
I wasn't aware that 'several' had been redefined as 'two.' (I can hear your exasperated sigh now….but to save you the trouble, I'm fully aware that I'm being a prick).
Anyway, I'm afraid I can't shed any light on the reason for Remus's sudden change of heart—unless he finally wised up to Padfoot's and my advice. Though why he'd take two months to do so is beyond me. Either way, it's good to hear he's stopped being an idiot. Now Sirius and I can resume that role without feeling guilty. It was rather boring being the ones who had to be rational all the time.
Every time you mention your sister, I'm glad my parents never subjected me to siblingdom. I have to admit, I'd have been pretty hard to top, so it's understandable that they stopped having children after me. Back to Petunia, though—I'm intrigued by the notion of someone willing to date her; you must tell me more about this unimaginable bloke.
James
James,
I just spent the last several minutes (Really, it was at least five—does that satisfy your requirements? And I'm still going to call you a prick, by the way, even if you did admit to it.) staring at your name on the top of this parchment. No, not because I miss you so terribly or something nausea-inducing like that. It's just . . . well, it looks quite . . . odd, sitting up there. I guess I'm so used to calling you 'Potter' that using 'James' almost makes it seem like I'm talking to a different person. How's that for a confession? No, not very exciting, I know. I can almost see your eyes glazing over as you read this, because honestly, who cares?
Right. So, before this letter is completely filled with useless ramblings, I have another (more interesting) confession: I've always pictured you having several brothers and sisters. No idea why—I knew you were an only child, and you've told me so before, but for some reason it's still strange to hear it. You're sure you don't have some older brother you never talk about because he . . . I don't know . . . works for the Russian mafia and you've been sworn to secrecy? Okay, probably not. See, this is what happens to me over the summer—without any structure to my life and ample motivation to spend as much time alone in my room as possible, I find myself with too much time to think. And sometimes it leads to mild insanity. Well, at the very least, do you have any pets?
Let's see, what else? Oh, right—my sister's boyfriend. His name is Vernon Dursley, and he works at this company that makes drills—Muggles use them to bore holes in the ground so . . . well, your eyes will only glaze over again if I start describing it, so I'll leave it at that. Anyway, the point is he's not remotely interesting. Or polite (at least not to me). Or attractive. Essentially, he has nothing going for him in my book.
Lily
Lily,
I've only just stopped laughing at your question about pets long enough to actually be able to write back. You see, Sirius lives with me during the summer—and he does NOT appreciate the 'pet' joke—er, sorry, that was Sirius, he grabbed the quill away from me for a moment. Anyway, as to the other question, no, no familial connections to the Russian mob—be quite cool, though, wouldn't it?
And if you want to keep calling me 'Potter', I won't mind. I mean, blokes call their friends by their last names all the time, don't they? Er, not that I think of you as a bloke, or anything.
As for Vernon—point taken. If you'd like any prank ideas, you know who to ask.
James
Lily,
No brilliant strokes of inspirations have . . . er, struck me about Remus since we left the train. I guess it will always be a mystery. Of course, you could always just ask him about it. Or, if that's unappealing, James or Sirius might be able to tell you something. Anyway, the point is, he forgave you, which is all that really matters.
Since I'm not travelling this summer, and since A.J. is (leaving you in a state of extreme sorrow and listlessness, I'm sure—or at least, I would be sure if it was anyone but you), we will definitely have to get together. Any suggestions?
Well, I better go—mum's calling me for dinner. Miss you already!
Mary
Mary,
I'm sorry it took so long for me to write you back—I've been wallowing in a pit of self-despair (Petunia-induced—and Vernon-induced, for that matter) and treacle tart withdrawal (my Mum's just isn't the same as Hogwarts's. Merlin I'm spoiled). Combine this with the absurdly hot weather we've been having and the fact that my second-story bedroom faces east (thus making it the hottest room in the house), and I've consequently had too little energy to pick up a quill, much less form coherent sentences.
But I've overcome these difficulties to write to you, my best friend. So, I hope this makes you feel wanted and important. Anyway, Potter had no insights into Remus's sudden return to the state of being my friend either. Oh, right, you wouldn't know that I've been writing to him. Well, I have. Yes, let the teasing and knowing glances commence (except I won't really be able to see the latter. However, I have exceptional trust in your ability to convey such things in a letter).
How's your summer been? And yes, PLEASE give me an excuse to leave the house. Fancy meeting up in Diagon Alley sometime this week? Or anywhere beyond a mile radius of my house, really; I'm not picky.
Lily
P.S. Just to clarify before you bite my head off, I haven't written to Potter in between receiving your letter and writing this reply. He just happened to send me an owl less than a day after term ended. I know—clingy much?
Lily,
I must inform you that teasing and knowing glances concerning you and James are far below my dignity now. I'm hurt that you'd think me so immature. Though you have made it a bit difficult by mentioning his strangely prompt and out-of-character letter.
Anyway, Diagon Alley sounds perfect. Name a time and place, and I'll be there. And, if my memory serves me, I seem to recall you mentioning something about Clary visiting this summer… I haven't forgotten how much fun we had last time, and wouldn't object to a repeat of the experience!
Mary
Potter,
Hey, sorry it took me so long to get back to you this time (hmm, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu…probably because I just wrote the same thing to Mary. In fact, she is partially to blame for my late response, since I had to write her back first. On principle, you know, since she's my best friend).
Anyway, I'm glad we've got the name thing straightened out. Though I suppose another option is, I could just call you 'Prongs' and you could call me . . . er . . . something equally clever. I know you don't have any animalistic inspirations to stimulate your creative nicknaming skills, but I trust you can think of something. After all, you're the one who said I needed a nickname.
Okay, clearly the too-much-time-to-think insanity is creeping up on me again . . . Good thing my cousin's coming to visit in two weeks. She's always a laugh. And actually likes being around me. And makes fun of my sister with me. So it's a win-win-win. If that's possible.
Lily
P.S. I can't believe you let Sirius into your house. Are you sure he's house trained? Either way, the two of you together all summer with unlimited free time? Your poor mother.
Lily,
I spent longer than I care to admit trying to come up with a nickname for you—since you already rejected 'Lilykins', you know. 'Ginger' seemed too obvious, so then I tried to think of something else related to the whole red hair thing. But that led no where, so I went the brainy-yet-sometimes-annoying-and-known-to-blow-up-at-a-moment's-notice route instead. Nothing. I know, I thought that avenue would provide significant inspiration. Alas, you appear to be un-nicknameable.
As far as calling me Prongs . . . I'm afraid we're not that close of friends, sorry. (Okay, I only wrote that last bit because Sirius was reading this over my shoulder—apparently he has nothing better to do than sensor my mail . . . anyway, I think he'd be offended if you started calling me Prongs—Marauder loyalty and all that.)
Is your cousin fit?
James
P.S. I'm glad you brought the second conversation back. You shot it down last time, so I was hesitant to start it again. Anyway, Sirius is now shunning you for your house trained joke (though I'm not sure how effective it's going to be, since he doesn't see you over the summer anyway). I, however, thought it was quite funny, and tip my invisible hat to you.
A.J.,
I had this weird urge to write 'Angus' as the opener, just to piss you off. Though I suppose I've achieved that anyway, having written it just now. Good way to start a letter to one's boyfriend, hmm? I rather thought so.
Anyway, as I'm sure your life is far more exciting than mine at the moment (it's not hard to be, trust me), I'm planning on living vicariously through you to survive this summer. So, I'm expecting a lengthy reply detailing all of your adventures in la bonita España. Of primary interest is why you have relatives in Spain at all? Guess that never really struck me as odd when you originally told me about the trip, but it does now.
Speaking of relatives, my Mum's sister and her daughter (who is one of my favorite cousins) are coming to stay with us next week. Last time Clarice (my cousin) was here, she forced me to go out in London with her and get completely smashed (well, okay, she was the one so intoxicated she could barely remember her own name, while I remained dignifiedly sober). Nevertheless, I'm sure I'll have many entertaining stories for you after this week is up. So, look forward to that. Er, that was meant to be a bit sarcastic, by the way, as I'm sure you don't really care about my mad cousin. There really needs to be a way to convey sarcasm in writing . . .
Lily
Lily,
I can't believe you mentioned the A-word. I'd never have thought you would stoop so low. In fact, I may never be able to speak to you again.
Okay, well, that lasted about two seconds. What can I say, I just don't have any self-restraint when it comes to you. Hmm—just as it's difficult to convey sarcasm in a letter, it's equally challenging to write suggestively. It actually comes off a bit creepy, now that I read it over. Oh well.
I'm insulted that you think I wouldn't care about your mad cousin. I love mad people (why do you think I'm dating you?). You had better tell me everything she does, AND you better have some interesting stories yourself—er, not TOO crazy, mind; I don't like the idea of you flirting with tons of other blokes. I know, I'm kind of a jealous boyfriend; you'll just have to forgive this minor character flaw.
Right. My Spanish relatives. Well, first of all, they're not Spanish. They just happen to live in Spain. My uncle works with the wizarding bank there, and he travels to London fairly often to meet with wizards and goblins at Gringotts, so we see him pretty regularly. But I haven't seen my aunt and cousins in years, so it's been fun catching up with them. So far, we've had a tour of Madrid (both on foot by day and by magic carpet at night—they're still legal here). My cousins are really into salsa dancing, so we've gone out a few nights to some clubs. You'd die laughing if you could see my dismal attempts to salsa. My cousins mysteriously disappear whenever I'm out on the floor—from embarrassment, I'm sure. I think those are pretty much the highlights . . . oh, we're going to a concert in a bullfighting ring (minus the bulls, of course) tomorrow night. Some group called Los Labios (sounds cool in Spanish, but it just means "The Lips"… I'm a little skeptical, but my cousin Tony swears by these blokes, so it should be good, I guess).
Miss you,
A.J.
A.J.,
I laughed anyway, just picturing you trying to salsa. But then I sobered quickly when I imagined myself doing any type of dancing. And you've actually seen that. So I think you owe me a demonstration of your skills when the summer is over. We'll impress everyone at the first Quidditch after party (of course, we'll have to make sure they're appropriately drunk first).
Thanks for the flowers! Though you were worried lilies were a cliché choice, never fear—they're my favorite flower (which, mind you, is more cliché I think). I'm still trying to work out how you got them here without them sustaining any damage, considering you're underage . . . you haven't been doing anything illegal, have you? Well, now I just sound like your mother. And referring to you as 'underage' has made me feel like a cougar.
Moving on . . . Last Saturday, Mary, Andrew, Clarice and I went out to Clary's favorite club. Surprisingly, Clary only snogged three strangers, and I think she was drunk enough that she won't remember the accidental references Mary, Andrew and I made to Hogwarts/Quidditch. The Statute of Secrecy is overrated anyway, right? Unfortunately, no interesting stories on my end from that night, though I was asked to dance by several rather attractive blokes (incidentally, two of them became Clary's snogees later). I turned them all down though, don't worry.
Lily
Potter,
Well, fair enough (about the Prongs thing). And I guess I'm all right without a nickname—after I sent that letter, I sort of regretted asking, as I could only imagine you would manage to think of an incredibly annoying one. But it appears I'm safe from that.
Anyway, like I said, my cousin's been here for the past few days. On Saturday, we—Clary, Mary, Andrew and I—went to a club called The Underworld (less ominous than it sounds). The band playing that night was called Black Rebel Motorcycle Club—I thought Sirius might appreciate that, for several reasons (by the way, has he bought a motorcycle yet, or was that all just talk?). They were fairly descent actually. And since you asked about my cousin (as far as her 'attractiveness' factor—well, you'll have to decide that for yourself), I did you the honor of telling her about you . . . and she wants to meet you. I know, I was shocked myself. I thought she had better taste than that.
In other news, I passed my Apparition test yesterday. Though it doesn't really do me any good, as I have no where to go. Still, it's sort of cool just knowing I could Apparate if I wanted to.
Lily
P.S. You didn't really give me anything to go on to further this conversation, so I'll just share something you can tease A.J. about when we get back to school: He sent me lilies.
Lily,
Congrats on the Apparition license—I got mine a couple of weeks ago as well, and debated for a moment simply Apparating to your house to demonstrate my skills. But then I realized I don't know where you live . . . wow, you're right, I am stalking you . . . sorry.
And don't lie, Evans—one, you're bad at it, and two, I already know you think I'm attractive, remember? So I'm not buying a word about your cousin's alleged 'poor taste.' As far as meeting her . . . well, I wouldn't object.
Sirius has indeed purchased a motorcycle, and is currently in the process of enchanting it to fly. Yes, you read that correctly.
James
P.S. Even though I'd prefer something to tease you about (though I suppose I don't really need help with that, as you usually provide me with ample material sans any effort on my part), I did laugh at Rookie's choice of flower. I hope he was being ironic. Even so, you don't really strike me as a flowers type of girl (you know, despite your name and all).
Potter,
I probably never would have spoken to you again if you'd Apparated to my house unannounced. And that would just be a shame, since I rather enjoy being friends with you (there, I've admitted it). Anyway, not only would it most definitely have qualified as stalking, it would also probably earn you a stint in Azkaban (since I live among Muggles, you may recall). Though I'm not sure if that second point serves as a proper deterrent for you—you'd probably just brag about it after you got out.
A flying motorcycle? Dear Merlin, what's the point of that? Sound like more of a danger than it's worth to me—what's wrong with a broomstick? Well, several things, actually, but I don't have time to get into that right now. In fact, I don't have time to get into much of anything right now, as Mum's demanding that I help her prepare dinner (The Slug—er, that's Vernon, by the way; did I mention he's, er, a bit on the large side?—is dining with us tonight. If I survive, I'll finish this letter afterwards).
(afterwards)
Oh my God. Petunia. And Vernon. Are engaged. He asked her after dinner . . . excuse me while I throw myself off a cliff.
And it's just started to rain. Perfect.
Lily
P.S. Merlin, we're actually going to be related! Yes, better make it an extra-tall cliff . . . maybe one over shark-infested waters, just to be safe.
Aw, Evans, you do care! Er, and please don't throw yourself off a cliff . . . who would I argue with? Or mock? Or annoy? My life would be so dull.
Sirius would like to inform you that he does not see the point of doing something if it doesn't involve a bit of risk—this won't surprise you, I'm sure. And, having ridden on the motorcycle myself (yes, it is fully functional now—that is, it flies), I can assure you that it is perfectly safe. Probably. I mean, I wouldn't let a small child fly it, but for all practical purposes (you know, joy rides and general recklessness), it's a marvelous invention. I'm only disappointed I never thought of it myself. But then, Sirius always did have a weird obsession with motorcycles.
I'm impressed and a little shocked that you call your sister's you-know-what (sorry to remind you of it again) 'The Slug.' I didn't know you could be so cruel and insensitive, Evans. Wait, no—of course I did.
James
P.S. Congrats on your Head Girl-ship.
Potter,
Glad to hear that I'm the main source of excitement in your life (yes, you're right—that was meant to be sarcastic . . . haven't used much of that this time around, actually. Hmm, I must rectify that).
I can only imagine the sorts of hijinks and shenanigans (don't you love those words?) you and Sirius will get up to now that you have a flying motorcycle. Watch out world.
Sorry, I haven't got much else in the way of news, nor do I feel like inventing some just to fill up the space. I hope you can forgive me (ha, I knew I could fit some sarcasm in before the end).
Lily
P.S. How did you know I'd been made Head Girl? I feel that bringing up the stalking business again is rather redundant, and yet . . . Well, thanks for the congratulations, anyway. You wouldn't happen to know who the Head Boy is, would you?
Lily,
Funny you should mention shenanigans—we did have a, er, bit of an incident with some Muggle police the other day. Remind me to tell you about it when we get back to Hogwarts. Which, incidentally, is a mere two weeks away. Strange as it is, even to me, I'm actually looking forward to going back. Maybe it's because I know we only have one year left until freedom!
I'm assuming this will be my last letter to you, so I'd just like to say that it has, once again, been a pleasure writing to you. Somehow you're much more agreeable on paper than in person . . .
James
P.S. I just assumed you'd get Head Girl. As far as our mysterious Head Boy—it's not Remus, if that's what you're asking.
Potter,
Yes, it's probably because it's easier to imagine you as a lovely, charming person when I'm not actually standing in your presence. However, the letters have been my pleasure.
Until September first,
Lily
P.S. Damn, I was sure it would be him. Now I'm extra curious . . . it better not be someone horrible. For instance, if it were Michael Smet, I really would have to jump off a cliff. For several reasons. Now I'm looking forward to the train back much less.
Lily,
Okay, I lied. That wasn't my last letter. But I just had to say, I don't know what you're talking about—I am a lovely and charming person.
See you on the train.
James
P.S. I would completely understand your suicidal urges if that were the case. In fact, I would assist you in finding a suitable cliff.
A/N: Okay, just a few clarifications/fun facts. Well, not a few. Two. Anyway, just as a reminder (because I'm sure people don't remember this random person mentioned like once), Michael Smet was Lily's first, memorably bad, kiss.
Second, the club Lily mentions going to is a real club. Well, I think it is, anyway. I Googled "London nightclubs," and the name "The Underground" caught my eye. When I clicked on the link, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club was in the list of bands performing that night, and I immediately thought of Sirius, so I decided to include it in this story. So, there you go.
Okay, I lied, one more thing. Mary's letters are sort of "filler" and I apologize for that—for some reason I couldn't get her 'voice' right in letter form . . . if that makes any sense at all ;)