A/N: Thanks to last week's reviewers: maximum destined potter, WhereIsMyThumpThump, Abi, lollipopdiego, Kimberly Hart D.B.W. (yes, all will be explained in good time), Ellen Weasley, MissArtemisFowl, Graci-and-Cheri, expecto patronum 2809, Molly Raesly (I liked Logan in the beginning, but yes, I think Jess was ultimately the better of the two. Though he had his bad moments as well, of course. And no, A.J.'s not gay, haha.), kikicakes, tardisinthesgc, becauseimthefavorite, Silver Scorpion, WaveRider 53, Evisawesome, marinewife08, polarbear1355, Elless, Cassie Weasley, Hope, emandem, SucksRoyalHippogriff, SeriouslySiriusBlack, ZoneSystems, IIManzaII, Dancethroughlife, Meeeee, AliLuvsAlli-Sirius, leeease, Dawnsplash, WobblyJelly, PoseidonsLittleGirl, arelli-black, xLycheeRAiN, Marauder'sGirlCuzI'mUp2NoGood, EchoNightFall22, and Tabbycat270!
All right, we're finally getting back on the update every Sunday routine….at least, I think that was my old update date, for a while anyway. Enjoy!
Chapter 26: I Believe In You
After we'd met with the older prefects, and after we'd instructed them to relay the usual information to the new prefects—because, as James had said, what was the point of having duties if you didn't delegate them?—and after I'd informed Potter that he was already letting the power go to his head, we finally parted ways.
Luckily, it didn't take me long to discover where A.J. had gone—he was only two compartments up from our original one, and even better, Mary and Andrew had joined him.
"Hi," I greeted A.J. with a kiss. "Mary, sorry I never found you—I forgot about my Head meeting; hi Andrew, how was your summer?" I said all this rather quickly, and the others just raised their eyebrows in response. "Sorry," I said again. "I'm just a little distracted by recent events, namely, the fact that James is Head Boy."
Mary and Andrew looked appropriately surprised by this, but A.J. just laughed and said, "Merlin, that's a blow to his reputation."
"Excuse me," I said, sniffing.
"As a Marauder, you know," A.J. explained. "And since you, Lil, aren't a prankster mastermind, the honor is deservingly bestowed," he finished with a little bow in my direction, to which I responded by elbowing him in the ribs.
"He would honestly be the last person I would have guessed if you'd asked me to predict who'd be Head Boy," Mary said. "Well, except perhaps Sirius."
"I know," I agreed. "I mean, I'd've even picked you, Andrew, before Potter."
"Er. . . thanks?" Mary's boyfriend responded uncertainly.
"Anyway, unexpected as it was, I actually think he'll be good at it," I said, earning myself a few raised eyebrows from the others. "I do," I insisted, and the subject was dropped.
"Well, did you coerce him into setting an early Hogsmeade date?" A.J. asked.
"No—he said you're back on the team automatically. He always keeps his old players, apparently."
"Lucky," Andrew muttered resentfully.
"That's not really on, is it?" Mary commented conversationally.
"It's Potter," I said with a shrug.
"I won't complain," A.J. added with a grin.
We passed the remainder of the train ride in the usual manner: catching up on each other's summers and stuffing ourselves with sweets from the food cart. It was nearly dark by the time we pulled into Hogsmeade station, and I was glad that my Head Girl duties didn't involve shepherding the first years to the boats that would take them up to the school. The departure of hundreds of students onto the platform caused the sort of general chaos that large crowds always do, and I was quite content to leave the herding to Hagrid, who, at nearly ten feet tall with a deep, booming voice, was much more fitted to the task.
Mary, Andrew, A.J. and I found a carriage and settled in for the short ride to the castle.
"You know, even though it's been six years, I can still clearly remember our boat ride to Hogwarts first year," Mary said as our carriage lurched to a start.
"Probably because it was freezing and pouring rain," I said, wrinkling my nose at the unpleasant memory.
"Yes, that might have had something to do with it," Mary said thoughtfully.
"Didn't James fall in?" Andrew asked.
"Only because he and Sirius were wrestling, of all things, in the back of their boat," I said, rolling my eyes. "Come to think of it, they both fell in, actually."
"Served them right, eh?" A.J. inquired, raising his eyebrows at me.
I smiled sweetly at him. "Exactly—it's great that you know me so well."
We said goodbye to Andrew in the Great Hall and found three seats together at Gryffindor table. Shortly thereafter, we were joined by James, with Sirius, Remus and Peter finishing off our group a few minutes later. All four of the Marauders were grinning in a way that I'd come to associate with disaster and mayhem, and I frowned at them suspiciously.
"All right, what have you lot done?" I demanded, crossing my arms.
"Whatever do you mean, Flower?" James asked, fixing me with a carefully innocent look.
"What did I say about calling me that, Potter?"
"Now, there's no need to get so touchy, Evans," he replied with a smirk.
Sighing, I turned my accusatory gaze on Sirius instead.
"What?" he asked defensively.
Having not really expected either of them to tell me anything, I glanced at my former fellow prefect. "Remus?"
"The Sorting's starting," was all he said, nodding towards the doors into the Entrance Hall, where a knot of nervous-looking first years were gathered.
"Excellent," Sirius said quietly.
Sighing again, I resigned myself to watching Professor McGonagall begin to lead the first years into the Great Hall. Except that none of them were following. And McGonagall wasn't carry the Sorting Hat and three-legged stool that usually accompanied this most honored of Hogwarts' ceremonies. No, she was instead wearing a most formidable expression and clutching . . . a Santa hat. Yep, bright red with the furry white trim and everything.
A.J. snorted beside me, and he was hardly the only one. Laughter rang out across the Hall as everyone turned towards McGonagall, who continued to stride up to the teacher's table, where she whipped around to address the gathered student body, who, despite their amusement, fell immediately silent at the look on McGonagall's face.
"I don't know which person or persons did this," she began, and I was impressed at the way her lips remained in that sternly thin, angry line even as she spoke, "but they are likely to find themselves in detention for a month if this is not sorted out immediately."
"No pun intended," James muttered behind me, and I shot him an exasperated smile. He and his fellow Marauders were all watching McGonagall with mock looks of concern or polite incredulity, and the smile I'd directed at James remained on my lips as I turned to the front again.
"The Sorting ceremony is a tradition that can be traced back to the founding of the school itself," McGonagall was saying, clearly trying to impress upon us the full gravity of the situation. And, indeed, I was wondering how they would continue without the Hat to Sort the new students. Apparently, McGonagall had questioned this as well, because she continued, "I am afraid I we shall be forced to discontinue the feast until we have remedied the situation."
Several students let out disappointed groans, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sirius slouch down slightly on the bench, remove his hat—we all wore our pointed black hats to the Welcome Feast—and replace it with one that looked oddly familiar . . . Spinning in my seat to face him fully, my jaw dropped as I realized that it was indeed the frayed and weathered Sorting Hat perched on his head.
"Sirius," I hissed in disbelief, but he put a finger to his lips and winked at me. I frowned at him. "I'm not just going to—" I started, but one of the younger Ravenclaws suddenly shouted "It's there!" and pointed to where Sirius sat, clearly fighting a grin.
Every head in the Hall swiveled to look at him, and now James, Remus, and Peter were shaking with suppressed laughter too.
McGonagall marched down the length of Gryffindor table, stopping directly in front of Sirius and holding out her hand silently.
Unfazed by the thunderous look in her eyes—impressive, because even I shrank back from her a bit—Sirius pulled the Hat off and handed it over to his Head of House. "Mr. Black," she said in a dangerously quiet voice that nonetheless carried the length of the table, "I do not know what on earth could possibly have possessed you to pull such a stunt, but I will be seeing you in my office for detention every night for the first two weeks of term."
"I thought you said a month, Professor?" Sirius questioned pleasantly.
I heard James let out a snort of laughter beside me.
McGonagall's eyes flicked to the Head Boy and then back to Sirius. Instead of answering his question—lucky, I thought, because she could have easily doubled his detentions just for cheek—she asked, "And am I to assume you were the sole perpetrator in all this, Mr. Black?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Sirius replied without hesitation.
Looking as though she severely doubted this, McGonagall said, "Very well. And the stool?" Sirius pulled it out from under the table. Taking it, McGonagall turned to me. "Miss Evans, if I could see you briefly after the feast?"
"Of—of course, Professor," I said, surprised.
But I had time only to exchange a questioning look with Mary before the Sorting started in earnest. After Melinda Wilkinson had joined the Hufflepuff table, Dumbledore stood, offered a few words of welcome, and the feast began.
Immediately, I turned to the Marauders. "How did you do that?" I asked, genuinely curious and, though I'd only admit it under heavy questioning, a little impressed. "And where the hell did you get a Santa hat?"
James raised his eyebrows. "First, we didn't do anything," he said, indicating himself, Remus and Peter.
"Right, of course," I said sardonically. "Fine, then, Sirius—how did you do it?"
"A Marauder never kisses and tells, love," he said enigmatically, smirking slyly at James as though they were sharing a private joke. Which, knowing them, they probably were.
"Because that has everything to do with . . . nothing," I said.
"I imagine I might be able to shed some light on the situation, Evans," Potter said helpfully.
"Do you?" I replied, arching an inquisitive eyebrow. "Why do I not find that hard to believe?"
James grinned. "Well, I'd say that if someone were to carry out such an elaborate and brilliant prank, they would probably have been waiting at the train doors, ready to jump out immediately upon arrival at Hogsmeade station," he began.
"Would they? And why would that be?"
"Because they'd have to sprint to the front of the carriages to get the first one," James explained. "Then, after coming up to the castle, they'd probably want to locate Peeves—"
"How?" A.J. interjected.
"How indeed?" James replied with an infuriatingly superior grin. But I had a sneaking suspicion that ghosts might just happen to be traceable on the Marauder's Map. "Anyway, as I said, one would probably want to find Peeves so he could create a small yet effective diversion to distract McGonagall, thus allowing one unimpeded entrance into the room where they keep the Sorting Hat on the evening of the Welcome Feast." Potter paused, no doubt for dramatic effect.
"And then what?" Mary asked, playing along, as I shot her a look that clearly said 'don't encourage him.'
"Well, after that it's quite simple, really. After swapping out the hat, stealing the stool, and hiding both of them under the table, one would merely have to double back using the door behind the teacher's table that opens directly onto the grounds, and enter the castle again with everyone else."
After a moment of silence, I asked, "But why let Sirius take the fall for all of you?"
"Evans, have you not listened to a thing I've said?" Potter asked indignantly. "None of us had anything to—"
But Remus cut him off. "With Prongs as Head Boy"—he smirked at his friend, who glared back resentfully—"and the fact that McGonagall would never have believed Peter or I acted alone on this . . ." he trailed off with a shrug.
"And you agreed to that?" A.J. asked Sirius incredulously.
Once again, it was Remus who answered. "Padfoot sees detention as a matter of personal pride," he said dryly.
We fell quiet again, each enjoying the fantastic food and pondering the Marauder's latest prank. "It does makes you wonder what they'd do if the Sorting Hat ever really did go missing, though," Mary mused after a while.
"Indeed it does, Macdonald," Sirius agreed solemnly.
OOOOOOOO
After the Feast, as instructed, I met McGonagall in her office. I couldn't fathom anything I could possibly have done wrong so early in the year, so I wasn't anxious, but I had a sneaking suspicion what this was about nonetheless.
"Please, have a seat Miss Evans," McGonagall offered after she'd shut the door behind us, indicating a rather hard, straight-backed chair in front of her desk.
Taking it, I waited expectantly as my Head of House sat as well.
"First, may I offer my congratulations on making Head Girl—it is well-deserved," she began.
"Thank you, Professor," I said, a little taken aback at this rare compliment.
"On that note, however"—and here her lips thinned slightly—"I'd like to discuss Mr. Potter's appointment with you. Now, while I normally trust and respect Dumbledore's judgment . . ." She stopped, as if reluctant to speak ill of the Headmaster, even if he had made what she clearly thought was a grave mistake.
To my surprise, I found myself bristling at the implication that James was unworthy of being Head Boy. Honestly, I would have completely agreed with her before, but now . . . I mean, if Dumbledore thought he could do it, didn't he deserve a chance to prove that he could?
I opened my mouth to tell McGonagall this, but she spoke again before I could. "I think you and I both know that it is highly unlikely Mr. Black acted alone tonight. In light of that, I would like to assure you that if Mr. Potter gives you any trouble this year, or exhibits behavior that is . . . less than fitting for his position, you should not hesitate to report it to me. Understood?"
A thousand retorts sprang to my lips, but I forced them all back, knowing it wasn't worth it to start an argument with my professor. "Of course, Professor," I said obediently instead. A beat of silence, then, "Is that all you wanted to see me for?"
"Yes, you're free to go. I will see you first thing tomorrow."
It took me a moment to figure out what she meant, but then I realized Transfiguration must be our first lesson of the term. "Good night, Professor."
I stood and left her office, letting out a long, frustrated sigh the moment I'd turned the corner.
OOOOOOOO
"I mean, I'm not your mother, and you're not a child, so I really don't see what the problem is. Dumbledore thinks you can do it, I think you can do it, and that should be all that matters, right?" I'd just finished relaying McGonagall's speech to James and Remus, the only two of my friends still in the common room by the time I returned to Gryffindor tower. Both were currently staring at me, mingled looks of disbelief and amusement on their faces. "What?" I asked defensively.
"D'you think I could get that last bit in writing?" James inquired. "And maybe you could sign it—preferably in blood, you know, for good measure. I just have a feeling that I—"
I cut him off by hitting him with a pillow. "I just think it was unfair of her, that's all."
"You may end up regretting those words, Lily," Remus said, though he was smiling slightly all the same.
"Aw Moony, what makes you say that?" James asked.
"Only the memories—and there are many of them—of discouraging yours and Sirius's more, er, ill-advised pranks."
"But those days are behind me now," James assured him seriously.
Remus merely raised a skeptical eyebrow.
James sighed dramatically. "The universe has clearly been thrown off kilter when Lily supports me more than my best mates."
"Agreed," I muttered.
OOOOOOOO
My Head Girl dormitory, as it turned out, was nothing to write home about—just a single bed similar to that in the other dormitories, a desk and chair in one corner, and a bathroom opening off of the far wall. This last amenity would, admittedly, be nice after so many years sharing one with three other girls. I fell into bed, expecting to get a good night's sleep without the distracting noises of my sleeping roommates. However, after years of blocking out Marlene's snoring, my single room turned out to be oppressively quiet, and I abandoned all thoughts of a restful night at approximately one in the morning, when sleep had yet to claim me.
I woke reluctantly the next morning, grumbling a few chosen words at my cursed alarm clock, which had roused me much too early for my liking. Meeting Mary in the common room, we started down for breakfast. "You look tired," she observed. "Didn't sleep well?"
"No, I guess I just got used to sleeping with three other girls, so—"
"Kinky, Evans," an amused voice said from behind us.
"And a good morning to you, too, Potter," I said, frowning at him.
"Well, I'm sorry you slept badly," Mary continued, ignoring the brief interruption. "If it helps, I think I'm going to miss sleeping with you." She glanced at James as she said this, quirking an eyebrow slightly as if daring him to make another lewd comment.
Which he did, of course. "Yeah, me too," he sighed, slinging an arm around my shoulders.
I shoved it away and glared at him. "I was serious about the flirting thing, Potter," I said warningly.
"Oh, I never joke about flirting, Flower," he said solemnly.
My eyes narrowed further at the nickname. "No, I meant about how I didn't want you to do it."
"You never said that," he countered.
"Well, I'm saying it now."
"Fine, fine, have it your way, then," James relented.
Mary cleared her throat subtly, and when I glanced at her, she widened her eyes slightly at me. "What?" I asked, but my best friend just shrugged.
After walking a bit further in silence, James spoke again. "I don't think I ever thanked you properly, Lily, for defending me to McGonagall."
"What?" Mary said before I could respond.
"Good old McG, er, heavily implied last night that I would be a rubbish Head Boy, but Lily told her just where she could shove it."
"I did no such thing," I protested.
"Well, okay, not in those exact words, but—"
"No, I mean all that stuff I said—you know, how she was being unfair, and how you should at least be given a chance—I never actually said any of that to her."
"Oh," James said in surprise. "Well then," he added in a slightly indignant tone, "maybe I don't want to sleep with you after all." He said this last bit just as we reached Gryffindor table, where Remus was eating alone and reading the morning's Prophet.
He looked up at James's words, however. "Do I even want to know?" he asked warily as we sat down across from him.
"No," I said quickly, glaring at James again.
Before he could do anything more than smirk back at me, Remus said, "You lot seen the Prophet yet?"
When we shook our heads, he turned the paper around, pointing to a headline on the bottom half of the front page: "Raiders Strike Again: Second Attack This Week."
Mary and James looked suddenly grim upon reading this, but I failed to see the significance—apart from the attack thing, of course. Glancing in confusion between my three friends I asked, "Er, what are Raiders?"
James raised his eyebrows. "Where were you all summer, Evans?"
"At home. With my Muggle parents," I said, raising my eyebrows in turn.
"Oh, right," James said, somewhat sheepishly.
"Well, no one's really clear on who exactly the Raiders are," Remus said, "though rumor has it they're some sort of Voldemort-sympathetic group who aren't quite, er, zealous enough to be Death Eaters. Over the summer, there were several attacks reported, all perpetrated by small groups of similar description: most victims estimated them to be in their late teens or early twenties, but they were always masked, so no one has been identified yet. It's easy to see where they got the inspiration for the masks, and, equally unsurprising, the attacks have all been on Muggles or wizards who live in Muggle neighborhoods, who are just assumed to be against Voldemort's pureblood mania line—"
"That's who you think they were," I interrupted, turning to James abruptly. "With you and Sirius—because you were in a Muggle neighborhood, so they probably just assumed—"
James shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. Whether it was or not, though, is hardly the point. I mean, these attacks . . . all of them have been fairly random, and now that they're happening more frequently . . . these 'Raiders' evidently don't much care who they harm."
Silence followed this bleak declaration, until Mary said, "Sorry, but I'm a little lost. What happened to you and Sirius?"
"We almost died," James said casually, with the hint of his old smirk back in place.
I rolled my eyes. "Not exactly something to joke about, Potter," I said, my voice coming out harsher than I'd expected.
"Why, would you miss me?" he teased.
"Possibly," I allowed.
James grinned. "Well, you know I always joke about inappropriate things, so it should come as no surprise to you that my own death would be among them."
"I suppose it shouldn't," I muttered.
OOOOOOOO
"Have you lot seen Potter?" I asked of the other Marauders that evening. It was eight o'clock, time for us to do rounds, and I could not find my fellow Head Boy anywhere.
"Nope," Sirius said unconcernedly, barely glancing up from his chess game with Peter.
I turned to Remus, who just grinned and asked, "Too early to say 'I told you so'?"
"Yes," I said, glowering at him. "I cannot believe that you all won't at least pretend to support him in this."
Sirius did look up at that. "My dear, you are evidently woefully misinformed."
"About what?"
"Life," Sirius replied, to which I rolled my eyes. "You see, Prongs is a Marauder, and now he has gone and landed himself a respectable position in the school's authority system, a system which we have striven to undermine for centuries . . . well, six years, anyway . . . and therefore has left us with no choice but to mock him for the rest of his life."
"Checkmate," Peter piped up triumphantly.
Sirius dropped his gaze to the board in disbelief. "Damn," he said softly, on finding Peter's claim confirmed. "Now see what you've gone and done, Evans?" he accused, though only half-seriously.
I sighed. "You're no help," I grumbled, moving towards the portrait hole.
"Hang on, Lily," Sirius called after me. I looked back questioningly. "I think I remember Prongs saying something about . . . no, wait, I wasn't really paying attention—never mind!" He grinned pleasantly at me.
Scowling once more, I pushed the Fat Lady's portrait open with a bit more vigor than I'd intended, earning an indignant reprimand from our common room's guardian, which I ignored. As I started off in the direction of the Astronomy Tower, I couldn't decide if I was angry with Potter, or if I'd almost been expecting something like this. I mean, maybe he'd just forgotten, what with it being the first night of term and all. Besides, he hadn't actually read the informational letter we'd received over the summer.
I found myself smiling wryly at this as I reached the far end of the castle and began to climb the stairs of its tallest tower. It was just so typical of him that I almost couldn't be mad. Which didn't really make sense, but—
My thoughts were promptly interrupted by the sight that met my eyes when I finally emerged into the cool September air at the tower's summit. James was standing half-concealed in the darkness of the tower's shadow, arms around a girl and lips engaged in a manner reminiscent of Chloe.
Momentarily shocked, I simply stared at the couple for several seconds, my stomach turning over with . . . anger? I mean, of course it was anger. Potter was supposed to be doing rounds with me, and instead he was off snogging . . . well, I couldn't really tell who it was, but that was hardly the point. But as I considered marching up and giving him a good telling off, I found my feet frozen to the flagstones. Much as it embarrassed me to admit, I felt incredibly uncomfortable . . . er, interrupting them.
I turned and started quietly down the steps again, but stopped almost immediately. Don't be such a coward, Lily, I reprimanded myself. Taking a determined breath, I spun abruptly, knocking my elbow against the stone wall of the tower as I did so. Swearing involuntarily at the pain, I froze when Potter looked around at the noise, his eyes quickly finding mine. I felt myself blush up to the roots of my hair, and was grateful for the darkness. "Hi," I blurted out, trying not to cringe as the girl Potter had been snogging raised her perfectly plucked brows at me.
"Hi," James echoed, and I could tell from his barely controlled smirk that he was mocking me.
That was enough to fuel my anger and unlock my limbs. Crossing my arms impatiently, I asked in what I hoped was a convincingly stern tone, "Having fun, are you? Because you're suppo—"
It was Potter's turn to swear. "Shit, Evans, I forgot." Turning to the girl, he said, "Sorry, er . . . raincheck?" This with a charmingly crooked grin.
She sent him a sultry smile in return. "Just name the time and place, and I'll be there."
I sighed pointedly. Ignoring me, the girl gave James an unnecessarily long kiss in parting and brushed past me down the stairs.
"Lovely," I muttered sarcastically after her, before fixing James with an irritated glare.
He winced. "Sorry. It won't happen again, I promise." After a pause, he added, "You going to report me to McGonagall?" The left side of his mouth twitched slightly.
"No," I said evenly, starting down the Astronomy Tower stairs myself.
James trotted to catch up. "Look, it really did slip my mind. I wasn't—"
"So I'm curious," I said, overriding him, "is it a general practice of yours to have a complete personality makeover every year?"
"You really are mad, huh?" he said, ignoring the question and sounding almost more amused than ashamed.
Which only served to incense me further. "And this shocks you? Let's see, Potter, why would I be mad at you? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I defended you to Mary, your mates, and McGonagall—"
"No you didn't; you said yourself that—"
"And yet," I said, talking over him once more, "here you are, snogging some random girl, while I—"
"Wait a minute, you're judging me too, aren't you?"
"Oh yes, I most certainly am. Do you even know her name?" I accused.
"Audrey Caplan," he answered promptly, and I was impressed in spite of myself that he supplied her surname as well.
"And what year is she?"
"Sixth."
"House?"
"Ravenclaw. And," he added, as I opened my mouth again, "she has two younger brothers—one's a fifth year in Ravenclaw as well, and the other's a second year Hufflepuff. Her parents both work at St. Mungo's, and her favorite Quidditch team is the Holyhead Harpies—bit unfortunate, and a little too cliché for my taste, but better than the Tornadoes." He shuddered at the thought.
I smiled reluctantly. "Fine. But I'm still judging you."
"That's your prerogative, I suppose," Potter said fairly.
"So, point of interest—do you actually plan on cashing in that 'raincheck' you offered?"
He considered this for a moment. "Maybe. She was a descent kisser."
I rolled my eyes. "Okay, new topic. Did you know Sirius has—"
"Sworn to mock me for the rest of my life, on account of my failing to undermine the school's authority system as we've been doing for centuries? Yes," he said wearily. "I'm pretty sure he spent the entire day after finding out I'd been made Head Boy writing and memorizing that speech so he could quote it at me whenever I was forced to do something responsible."
"So that's what you were doing just now? Trying to keep in Sirius's good books by shirking your duties?"
"Sorry—'shirking my duties'?" James asked with a snort.
"Don't tease me, and stop evading the question."
"No—I honestly did just forget. Unless you're less likely to stay mad at me if I were trying to please Sirius, because then—"
"No, they're pretty much equally disappointing."
"Well, can you find it in your heart to forgive me anyway, Flower?" he asked gravely.
"Only if you stop calling me that."
"Does it really bother you? Because all you have to do is say so, and I'll stop."
"No you won't. I've asked you to quit it at least three times in the past two days, and that hasn't seemed to discourage you in the slightest."
He grinned. "Yeah, you're probably right about that. But if it were a matter of love or hate, friend or enemies, I'd consider it." I looked at him sharply, the word 'love' standing out among the rest, but his face betrayed no hint that he'd said anything odd. Deciding that it must have slipped out with no intention of implying anything serious—after all, why should it?—I let it go.
Frowning at me, James added, "You aren't really mad, are you?"
"No," I said tiredly. "I should be, but . . . I'm not."
"Must be my charm and good looks, eh?"
"Doubtful."
"Well, whatever it is, I'm glad. I'm not sure how I could go on, otherwise."
"You could always get Audrey to comfort you."
"Careful, Flower—that rings awfully of bitterness."
A/N: I love writing L/J banter—it's quite fun. And before anyone freaks out, Audrey isn't going to turn into another Chloe situation, despite Lily's drawn parallel between the two….it's just James being an idiot, as usual ;)