A/N: Thanks a million to last week's reviewers: I'm A Cuckoo, Meeeee (I always feel pressured to update from you—but in a good way, don't worry! And unfortunately, no 28 on the 28th—you're right, though, that would have been cool.), Bittersweet x, roseythebx, WhereIsMyThumpThump, AliLuvsAlli-Sirius, Insane Potter Maniac (somewhere around 33 chapters—A.J. will be gone soon-ish, just hold on! haha), Samantha (I work as a research assistant), Elless, Silver Scorpion, Abi, maximum destined potter, movinggirl, jak23, TimeTravelJunkie, Evisawesome, Miss larien, A La DarkAngel (haha, welcome back!), Cassie Weasley, marinewife08, Graci-and-Cheri, Zone Systems, ottoismydog, viva gal, IIManzaII, Vanillaberries, Nour, WobblyJelly, Marauder'sGirlCuzI'mUp2NoGood, lollipopdiego, Nathymoonybr, Molly Raesly, theycallherkaush, xLycheeRAiN, SeriouslySiriusBlack, arelli-black, PoseidonsLittleGirl, Dancethroughlife, EchoNightFall22, and emotionsonhold!

Don't forget to wish Lily a happy birthday, haha!

Chapter 27: This Kind Of Love

"So, does he?" I prompted, looking down at my best friend, who was currently digging in her bookbag. Mary and I had come up to the dormitory—well, her dormitory, I suppose it was now—during break, and I'd just relayed everything that had happened in the past two days with Potter that seemed out of the ordinary.

"Who?" she asked distractedly.

I crossed my arms. "Have you even been listening to me, Mary?"

She looked up with a sigh. "Yes, sorry—I'm trying to find my potions book, though, and you're supposed to be helping, I might remind you."

"Right, sorry," I said, sliding off her bed and peering under it. Getting a faceful of dust for my efforts, I sneezed as I pulled my head out again. "But back to James—do you think he's acting weird?"

"I'm getting a strange sense of déjà vu . . ."

"Well, that's probably because we had nearly this exact conversation last year. Several times, in fact."

"And?"

"What do you mean 'and'? You're the one who brought up the déjà vu thing—you tell me its significance."

Mary sat back on her heels from where she'd been digging in her trunk for her errant book. "I don't know, Lily."

"Yes you do," I insisted. "Or at least, you've noticed something. Don't think I've forgotten that look you sent me the other day on our way to breakfast."

"You mean when James joked about sleeping with you?" Mary inquired dryly. "And you didn't find that strange?"

"Well, that's what I'm saying!" I insisted, getting a bit frustrated. "I mean, it's almost as if he's travelled back in time to fifth year. Or fourth year, for that matter."

"I don't know," Mary repeated. "But he did kiss you."

I glared at her. "I thought we were going to pretend that never happened. And anyway, you were the one who said it was no big deal, that those kinds of things happened 'all the time' at parties—"

"First of all, I never condoned pretending it never happened. And I only said that other stuff to calm you down, because I was afraid you were going to have heart failure otherwise."

"Great," I muttered, sinking onto her bed and abandoning the potion book search once more. "So you think he—I mean, he might have, you know, actually meant to kiss me."

Mary shrugged. "Hard to say, as he doesn't remember it. But if the flirting really bothers you, just talk to him about it."

"No, it doesn't bother me," I said, discovering as I did so that it was true.

Mary stopped looking for her book as well to frown up at me. "So . . ." she started slowly, "you're saying you . . . like it?"
"No!" I said quickly, frowning back at her. "I'm just saying I don't mind it . . . except I'm wondering what it means." When Mary just looked at me, I sighed. "It comes back to the kiss again, doesn't it?"

"I'm not—ha! There it is!" Mary jumped up and strode across the room, snatching her potions book off the window seat by Dorcas's bed. "I forgot I lent it to her yesterday. But Lily," she added more seriously, "just be careful."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just . . . you know, if James really does—"

"You're afraid I'll 'lead him on' or something stupid like that?" I interrupted, offended that she'd think me so heartless.

"You're dating A.J." she said simply, putting her recently recovered book in her bag and zipping it up.

"Right, thanks for reminding me," I replied sarcastically. "I—wait. You're not afraid for Potter's sake, are you? You're worried that I might . . . what? Fall in love with him? Honestly, Mary," I continued as we started for the dormitory door, "how many times do we have to have this conversation? I don't, nor will I ever, fancy Potter. I love A.J., so—" We both stopped just short of the door, staring at each other.

"You do?" Mary asked finally.

"Er . . . I don't know. I mean, I guess so—I must, right? Because I just said it without thinking, so if that's my unconscious reaction, it must mean that—"

"Lily," Mary interrupted, an amused smile on her lips.

"I'm rambling, I know. Sorry. But . . . this is . . . big, right?" We moved forward again, Mary pushing open the door to the stairs. "Though, I guess it's possible I'm not in love with him, isn't it? I mean, I should be sure before—"

"Lily," Mary cut in again, more insistently. "There isn't some sort of—of test you can take to prove it. At some point you just have to . . . jump in, with these kinds of things."

"Have you said it?" I asked abruptly. "To Andrew, I mean?"

"No."

"But you've been dating over a year. And A.J. and I have barely been dating six months." Six months next Monday, I thought, somewhat surprised that I remembered this. "So if you two haven't even said it . . ."

"I don't think the length of the relationship really matters, Lil. But," and here, Mary bit her lip, "about Andrew—I've been trying to find a good time to tell you, but . . . we broke up. Over the summer."

I stopped walking again, my foot hovering over the last step into the common room. "What? You—why didn't you tell me?" I tried to remember if things had seemed strained or weird between them on the train, but nothing stood out.

"Well, it happened the last two weeks before term, so I figured it was sort of pointless to write, and then I guess we've always been with other people, since you don't room with me anymore, and . . ." she trailed off, shrugging.

"But—are you okay? Do you need to, you know, cry or something?"

Mary laughed. "No, I'm fine. Really," she assured me, when I sent her a doubtful look. "Andrew and I haven't really been more than close friends for a while, and we both knew it, so . . . we decided to break up." She sounded so practical about it that I continued to frown at her.

"Well, there you go—my whole concept of love, just shattered—"

Mary shoved me lightly. "Andrew and I weren't your quintessential example of love," she scoffed. More worriedly, "Were we?"

"Well, okay, no—but what if you had been?"
"You should tell A.J." Mary said.

"That you and Andrew broke up?" I asked uncertainly.

Mary glared at me. "No—you know that's not what I meant."

I wrinkled my nose. "But—"

"Lily," she said warningly.

I sighed. "Fine. I will."

OOOOOOOO

But I didn't. It just wasn't something that came up in every day conversation. And ever since I'd asked him not to repeat it after he'd told me he loved me, A.J. had respected my request. So now there was the additional possibility that he didn't love me anymore, or regretted saying it without knowing how I felt. Not that I was sure how I felt, either.

And then there was the added problem of James and his . . . flirtatiousness. Which, by the way, hadn't stopped; though (as promised) he didn't do it around A.J. I couldn't decide if it was in earnest or just James being . . . well, James. Either way, I certainly didn't have the courage to directly ask him about it. So, after a week of confusion and indecision regarding the men in my life, I came up with a solution (of sorts): I would ask James for advice about A.J. One, to see his reaction when I told him I loved A.J., and two, to get input about love from someone who wasn't Mary. Not that James Potter was necessarily the optimal alternative, but . . . well, all right, I would probably end up regretting the entire thing.

Before I could second-guess myself, I blurted it out just after we began rounds on the second Thursday of term. "I think I love A.J."

James stopped walking, staring at me in surprise. Something odd twisted his expression for a moment, but it was gone before I could work out what it was, or if it had even been there at all. "Er, good for you," he said finally. "And him, I suppose."

"Right, well, that's the thing," I said as we started walking again, my cheeks flushing despite my best efforts to control my easy blush. "I haven't actually told him yet."

"Because . . ."

"Because what if I'm not? In love with him, that is. I mean, I said it when I was talking to Mary, without really thinking about it, so that probably means it's true, but even so, I don't want to just go blathering around with it in case I—"

"Evans, shut up," James said, though not unkindly—I glared at him nevertheless. "I don't know why in Merlin's name you're telling me all this, but—"

"Because I want your advice."

That seemed to halt whatever sentence I'd interrupted, and James once again stopped walking. "You do." I nodded. "You. Want my advice. About relationships," he repeated, still sounding disbelieving.

"Well, why not?"

He let out a snort of laughter. "I can think of several reasons. One, I'm a bloke, and two . . . well, no that pretty much covers it."

I sighed impatiently. "And of course you're not into talking about 'feelings' and things, is that right?" James nodded. "Well, we're not talking about your feelings, so—"

"Doesn't matter," he said, now sounding slightly frustrated, though I couldn't imagine why.

"We've talked about my feelings before," I pointed out.

James quirked an eyebrow at me. "Not really. Unless you count all the negative ones you've had towards me over the years." Now he was smirking slightly.

"Either way, that's not the point, because all I really wanted to ask you was whether you think I should tell him."

"Tell A.J. you love him?" I nodded. James shrugged. "I don't care."

I sighed. "I know you don't—never mind. I'll just stick with Mary for these kinds of things from now on."

"Yes, please do."

James still sounded irritated, and (as predicted) I regretted bringing up the subject at all. After a beat of silence, I asked tentatively, "So, how're things with . . . er, Audrey, was it?"

James frowned at me for a moment in confusion. "Oh, right—er, no 'things' to speak of, really."

I raised my eyebrows. "Moved on already, have you?"

"Still judging me, I see?"

"Oh, most definitely." James laughed. "Of course that wouldn't bother you," I muttered resentfully, though I was relieved he seemed to be back to normal.

"Well, it does bother me, Flower, but I'm very good at hiding my pain."

"Sure you are." James glanced sideways at me, and I suddenly got the feeling I was missing something. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, with a quirk to his lips that suggested he was sharing an inside joke with himself.

"So, is this some sort of seventh year resolution—to snog all the girls at Hogwarts?"

"Don't be absurd, Evans, of course not. Just the good-looking ones."

I rolled my eyes. "Right. Have you made a list, then, and are going through it alphabetically? You know, since Audrey was first . . ."

He flashed me a wicked grin. "Why, wondering when I'll get to you?"

I looked at him, finding myself on the brink of telling him that, in fact, he'd already gotten to me.

James must have seen something in my expression, because he flushed faintly and said, "You know I'm just joking, right?"

"Yes," I said, realizing I'd been staring and quickly looking away. "I was just thinking about something else, that's all."

"I'm talking about kissing you and you're thinking about something else?" James asked, pretending to be offended.

"Sorry, I'll try and give you my full attention the next time it comes up," I said dryly.

"Good."

I was suddenly aware that my skin felt all tingly, though Merlin only knew why. I clenched and unclenched my fists to try and rid myself of the sensation, but was only sufficiently distracted when James said seriously, "About A.J. . . . I mean, I'll be the first to admit I'm no expert—yes, I know, shocking and all that—" he said, forestalling the comment I'd been about to make, "but I think a bloke deserves to know if his girlfriend's in love with him."

"Well, it just sounds ridiculous to consider not telling him when you put it like that."

OOOOOOOO

And so I resumed looking for an appropriate opening with A.J. in earnest. Luckily, I was presented with the perfect opportunity shortly after my conversation with James.

On the morning of A.J.'s and my sixth anniversary, I woke up expecting it to be like any other day. Hardly the overly-romantic type, I hadn't really thought we'd do anything to commemorate the day, and was sure my boyfriend had similar thoughts. But oh, was I wrong.

Pushing aside my bed curtains, I let out a little gasp as I spotted the half-dozen roses arranged on my bedside table and the trail of rose petals leading from the foot of my bed, across my room, and disappearing under the door to the hall. I dressed quickly, already feeling guilty that I hadn't even thought to get or do anything for A.J. Grabbing my school bag, I walked over to the trail of petals, toeing one experimentally. It didn't move, which I'd sort of expected. Because if A.J. had done what I was starting to suspect he had, he would have had to ensure the petals wouldn't shift as other students walked over them.

Opening my bedroom door, I blinked in surprise to find Mary, Marlene and Dorcas just outside it.

All three blushed slightly, and Marlene said somewhat shamefacedly, "Er, hi Lily—we just saw the rose petals on our way downstairs, and wondered where they were coming from, so we traced them back up to here, and . . . so, did A.J. do all this?"

"Yes—well, at least I think so."

Dorcas and Marlene exchanged gleeful looks. "That's so sweet!" they gushed.

Mary raised her eyebrows at me, though she was smiling as well, and I had to look away from her so I wouldn't start laughing at my former roommates' wistful expressions.

"Well, um, can I . . ." I gestured towards the stairs, and Marlene and Dorcas jumped aside.

"Right, sorry—hang on, can we come with you? We're almost ready; it'll just be a couple minutes."

"Er," I started hesitantly.

"Please?" Dorcas wheedled. "We really want to see all of it!"

Carefully avoiding Mary's eye, as I felt laughter bubbling inside me again, I said, "Sure, we'll wait."

"Thanks, Lily!" Dorcas and Marlene said in unison, hurrying back downstairs in the direction of my old dormitory.

"Honestly," I muttered after the pair of them, finally turning to Mary. "I didn't really fancy having an escort; it's going to be embarrassing enough as it is."

Mary grinned at me. "You didn't do anything for him, did you?" She said it more as a statement, as though already expecting my answer.

"No," I sighed. "I didn't think he—I mean, six months? That's not really—did you think he would do something?"

Mary shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it, though; I hardly think he'll expect something from you," she said sweetly.

"Wow, thanks," I replied sarcastically.

Marlene and Dorcas returned shortly, as promised, and I suspected it was only their excitement at seeing what A.J. had planned that'd motivated them to get ready for the day in such record time. We all started down the stairs to the common room, to find that the rose petals continued across the room and out into the corridor beyond.

"Did he use a permanent sticking charm on these?" Mary wondered, nudging one with her foot as we crossed towards the portrait hole.

"Must've done," I said.

"Merlin, that must have taken a long time," Marlene marveled.

Guilt twisted my stomach again, and only increased as we followed the petals out of the common room, down the seven flights of stairs into the Entrance Hall, and along the Great Hall to Gryffindor table, ending partway down the bench where I usually sat. I was a little surprised not to find A.J. there; instead, another rose lay across one of the golden plates at the table, across from which sat Sirius and Peter. Both grinned at me as I sat down, and I felt myself redden.

"Good, you're here—now we can stop guarding this thing," Sirius commented.

"Oh my God, this is seriously the cutest thing I've ever seen!" Dorcas exclaimed as she sat down beside me.

Sirius raised his eyebrows in an expression similar to the one Mary had worn earlier. "Bloody adorable," he agreed dryly, smirking at me.

"Oh, shut it, Black," I muttered at him.

"And where is the man of the hour?" Sirius inquired.

"Hell if I know," I replied, annoyed by his teasing.

James's best mate grinned. "That's the romantic spirit."

Just then, James himself sat down next to Peter. Remus was, at the moment, indisposed (it had been a full moon the night before). "Merlin, Evans, was all that mess for you?" he inquired, sounding irritated.

I frowned at him. "Yes. Sorry if it interfered with your normal morning activities," I added, my tone somewhat biting in response to his unexpected disapproval.

James just made a noncommittal grunt and poured himself some pumpkin juice.

OOOOOOOO

As we left the Great Hall for potions—with no sign of A.J.—James said abruptly, "Seems a bit excessive for six months, don't you think?"

"Couldn't agree with you more, Prongs," Sirius chimed in cheerfully before I could respond.

Both James and I glared at him, though I couldn't see why James was angry with Sirius, since he seemed to be on his side. Then again, I wasn't quite sure why he was angry with me, either.

"I think it's sweet," I defended.

James snorted. "No, you don't. You're just saying that because you don't want to admit I'm right."

"What? No, I'm not! Just because you would never think to do something thoughtful and romantic like that doesn't mean it's excessive."

"Whatever you say, Evans," James said, sounding infuriatingly superior.

I sighed in frustration. "And anyway, why does it matter? Moreover, why do you even care?"

It seemed James couldn't think of a reply to that, because he just shoved his hands into his pockets and scowled at the floor until we reached our potions classroom. I sat with Mary at a table near the front, leaving the Marauders to take their usual tables at the back right corner of the room.

"Honestly, what is his problem?" I asked Mary, mostly rhetorically, as we pulled out our potions supplies.

Rhetoric or not, she didn't have a chance to reply anyway, as Professor Slughorn entered at that moment to begin the lesson. When he announced that he'd be pairing us off, I had a moment of dread until I heard my name paired with Sirius's. Breathing a sigh of relief that I wouldn't have to work with Potter, I glanced back at Sirius, raising my eyebrows and jerking my head at the seat beside me that Mary had just vacated.

He quirked an eyebrow at me in turn. "Nice try, Evans," he called, "but the day I sit in the front is the day Peter becomes Queen of England." He frowned. "Actually, that might not be so unthinkable, considering Pete's practically a girl—" The Marauder in question hit his friend on the back of the head with his potion's book as he passed to join Ravenclaw Marcia Shaw at her table.

I grinned as I sat beside Sirius. "You should really watch what you say, Black—Peter's not as timid as you might assume."

"Oh, I would never be naïve enough to assume such a thing, Ev—Merlin, he really put a lot of effort into this, didn't he?"

I'd just set my cauldron on the table between us, only to discover another rose had been placed inside it.

"Six months," Sirius said quietly, almost to himself, but I got the sense he was mocking me anyway.

"Just because your longest relationship was six hours—"

"All right, all right—I'll stop. So, let's start stirring your potion, shall we?" he asked with a suggestive wink.

I rolled my eyes. "Only you could manage to make something like a potions assignment sound dirty."

"It's a gift."

"Marvelous," I deadpanned. We worked in silence for a while, until finally I couldn't help asking, "So, do you know why James is going around like he's got a broomstick up his arse?"

Sirius suddenly became intently focused on adjusting the flames under our cauldron. "Dunno, maybe he's just tired—I mean, we did have a late night last night." He glanced up, eyebrows raised significantly.

"I might not let anyone else overhear that. If you know what I mean," I said casually.

Sirius grinned. "Now who's got the dirty mind?"

"Anyway, if he's tired, it would follow that you and Peter are as well, and I don't hear either of you complaining about A.J.'s display of affection." As I dumped in my freshly sliced newt tails and began stirring the potion slowly counterclockwise, I glanced over to find Sirius looking at me intently. "What?"

He let out a sigh, sounding almost disappointed. "Nothing. Well, it's possible Prongs is short-tempered on account of the relentlessly approaching Quidditch trials."

"Quidditch trials," I repeated skeptically. "Aren't they usually in the middle of October?"

"Yep."

"That's nearly a month away."

Sirius shrugged. "Yes, but it's a time-honored tradition at Hogwarts that the Gryffindor Quidditch trials are the most attended by persons not in that House than all the other Houses combined."

"Why?"

"Because it's also a time-honored tradition that the Gryffindor team is the most talented and has the most attractive captain."

Though I knew he was joking, I pretended to mull this over for a bit before asking cheekily, "But why would that affect this year's trials?"

Sirius shot me an appreciative look. "Normally I would say you'd never have the courage to say that to Prongs's face, but knowing you as I do, that would be a pointless accusation."

"You'll just have to relay the message for me."

"Will do," he said easily.

Still, I wasn't convinced Quidditch constituted the bulk of James's problems—though I knew from personal experience how testy he could get about it. I studied Sirius carefully. "There's something you're not telling me," I accused.

He reached out to tweak my nose, earning a glare from me. "I could write a soliloquy of the things I'm not telling you, my sweet Lily," he said, "but I wouldn't worry your pretty head about those if I were you. Besides, I don't have the time or motivation to write something as preposterous as a soliloquy."

OOOOOOOO

As the day wore on, I received three more roses from A.J.—though not personally delivered by him, of course. One was given to me by a third year Gryffindor boy (who looked decidedly uncomfortable carrying a flower around) during morning break, another was sitting at the Gryffindor table at lunch—guarded by a giggly Marlene—and the last was handed to me by a confused and somewhat disapproving McGonagall as we entered the classroom for our afternoon lesson.

"So, with the six this morning, that makes eleven," I commented to Mary as we ascended the steps out of the Entrance Hall after dinner. The rose petals had vanished sometime after lunch, making our way back to Gryffindor tower clear once more. "Which means there's probably one more," I continued, thinking out loud, "just to make it an even dozen. Right?"

"Makes sense to me," my best friend said. "But, I think the more pressing question is—where has A.J. been all day?"

"Yes, I've been wondering that as well," I said with a frown. "I mean, the castle isn't exactly small, but . . . he's done a rather impressive job of keeping a low profile. Though I hope he shows up eventually; I'd at least like to see him on our anniversary."

"Which you forgot," Mary said slyly.

"I did not forget it. I didn't!" I protested, when Mary looked at me skeptically. "Just because I didn't trail a thousand rose petals out of his room doesn't mean I—" I stopped abruptly as we turned onto the seventh floor corridor to find Potter walking towards us. Sure he had heard our conversation, I braced myself for a cutting remark, fully prepared to glare at him, but . . .

"Hey Evans, Mary," he said, almost distractedly, as he passed us.

Startled, I glanced at Mary, who looked equally surprised, before calling after James, "Potter, we've got—"

"Rounds in an hour—yeah, I know," he said, walking backwards so he could face me. "I promised I wouldn't forget again, remember?"

And then he was gone around the corner.

Mary and I walked towards the portrait hole in silence. Finally, I said, "You know, I don't think I'll ever really understand him."

True to his word, James returned to the common room just before eight, and almost before the Fat Lady had swung shut behind us, he handed me a rose.

I stared at him for a moment before he explained with a wry smile, "I'm just the messenger, Evans, don't worry. And I'm supposed to tell you 'happy anniversary.'"

Unconsciously sniffing the flower, I asked, "So, is A.J. slowly dying from some debilitating disease, and that's why he hasn't done any of this in person?"

Smirking slightly, James said, "Unfortunately, no—I expect he figured this would be more romantic and thoughtful."

"Don't be such a cynic."

"Too late for that, I'm afraid."

I sighed. "Really? Are you sure there's no hope for you?"

"None."

"Shame."

"Isn't it?"

I looked down at the rose again, suddenly reminded of a sunny day many years ago, playing in the park with my sister . . . I must have been staring at it more intently than I'd realized, for James added presently, "Well, I could try to believe in love, if it really bothers you that much."

"What? No, that's not—" I looked at him suspiciously. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

James grinned. "You were looking at that flower like you hoped it might grow a mouth and answer all your deepest philosophical questions."
"I was just thinking . . . it's funny how we used to be able to do magic without wands, and now we're so reliant on them—seems a little backwards to me."

"I agree, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"I remember this one time, with my sister . . . I was holding a flower, making the petals open and close without touching them . . . well, anyway, she freaked out—you know, with her hatred of magic and all."

James still looked a bit confused. "Why do you remember that, of all things?"

I shrugged, though it wasn't because I didn't know the answer. However, James didn't question me further. "Sorry," he said abruptly after a while. "For being a prick this morning," he explained when I shot him a questioning look. "I guess I was just preoccupied."

"With Quidditch?" I asked, testing Sirius's theory.

James frowned. "What?"

"That's what Sirius thought, you know, with trials coming up and everything."

"Oh, well, I try not to think about those until I have to," he muttered, confirming what I'd thought earlier: that Sirius had lied to me. I refused to accept that he'd merely been wrong about what was bothering James—they were much too close of friends for that. Knowing that James was far less likely to answer me truthfully, however, I let it go.

We passed the rest of rounds sharing stories of accidental magic we'd done before getting our Hogwarts letters.

"What did your mum do?" I asked, laughing, as we turned down the seventh floor corridor at ten o'clock. James had just told me of a time he'd gotten angry at his mother for refusing to let him take his father's broom out by himself, and had turned all of her clothes bright pink

"Well," James started as we reached the Fat Lady, "it was fairly easy for her to change them back—and I could swear she nearly laughed when she saw it . . . but of course she had to punish me nonetheless."

"What a tortured childhood you led," I said with mock sympathy.

"I know," James agreed with a dramatic sigh.

Upon entering the common room, we found the Marauders restored to their full number, Remus having returned from the Hospital Wing.

"Moony, how're you?" James asked as the two of us joined them by the fire.

"Oh, fantastic, naturally," Remus replied, with just a hint of irony.

Peter cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Er, Lily?" he addressed me. I glanced at him questioningly. "I'm, er, supposed to tell you to go to bed," he said this last bit in a rush, his cheeks pink.

"Merlin, Wormtail, at least take the girl to dinner first," Sirius said, causing Peter to blush harder.

"Right," I said, ignoring Sirius, "thanks, Peter." I had a sneaking suspicion I was about to find out where my boyfriend had been all day, and I assumed the others were having similar thoughts. "Well, have a good night, all."

"You too," Sirius said with a wicked grin, and I sighed, though I found myself looking at James for his reaction. He grinned at me as well, just as I'd've expected before . . . well, before his odd reaction this morning. Maybe it really is just Quidditch . . .

When I reached my room, I found A.J. lounging casually in my desk chair. Glancing up as I entered, he grinned and hopped up to meet me in the middle of the room.

I gave him a long, well-deserved kiss, smiling in incredulity as I pulled back. "How'd you get up here?"

"James," he said simply, and I took that to mean Potter had shared his secret of accessing the girls' dormitories.

"And where've you been all day?"

"Oh, you know . . . around," he said vaguely.

I shook my head, and despite them being somewhat of a non sequitur, the words came out anyway, "I love you."

"And here I thought you weren't going to get me anything for our anniversary," A.J. murmured, leaning in to kiss me again.

A/N: I know, VOM-tastic (er, that's vomit-inducing for those of you who couldn't figure that out—I realized 'VOM-tastic' is something only my friends and I say ) there at the end with all the cheesy-ness. And yes, you're all probably going "what is this fuckery?" So, let the hating begin—don't worry, I can take it ;) Just so you know, though, this is actually the beginning of the end of A.J., ironic as it may seem….so, ponder THAT when you're falling asleep at night….or something.