Thanks to last week's reviewers: starlight564 (yes, weekly updates on Sundays have been my recent thing), Dozy Dora, Elless, MissArtemisFowl, junebugbug96, emandem, dopey4dobby, WobblyJelly, Tribot (actually, I think it's going to be more like 34 or 35 chapters now….), Snape1918, blissedoutvixen, jak23, WhereIsMyThumpThump, liz2cute4u, breezieair, 2k11 (HAHAHA that review made me laugh!), isigirl, Abi, quest4candy, EchoNightFall22, Ace-reporter, lilyandjames53, Molly Raesly, Cledism is my religion, marinewife08, Tabbycat270, WaveRider 53, sjm95x, swishflick (haha, nope, not awkward at all :)), silk399, ErinFabu, theycallherkaush, IIManzaII, ottoismydog, tardisinthesgc, MiTosesRTotallyRoses ('bout….five-ish chapters left?), ramitaarora, ZoneSystems, merlincrazy, I'm A Cuckoo, Cassie Cayne, Yreva13, Marauder'sGirlCuzI'mUp2NoGood (have I seen AVPM/AVPS? Is that even a question? Haha, I DEFINITELY have—all good HP fans should—and LOVE them to death), fisforphenomenal, Bittersweet x (hmm, interesting get-rid-of-A.J. plan….I'm assuming this means you're suggesting I ship him off to Pigfarts, then? ;)), arelli-black, AliLuvsAlli-Sirius (I don't really like tea, actually), xxjenlovexx, Meeeee, PoseidonsLittleGirl (maybe 5 more chapters?), and xLycheeRAiN!

So, I have a "Marauders" playlist on my iTunes that I often listen to while writing (haha, I know, I'm sooooo cool!)—just a bunch of songs that remind me, however specifically or vaguely, of those pranksters we all know and love ;) Anyway, it got me thinking—have any of you got any good L/J songs you like? I'm rather attached to "Love Like Woe" by The Ready Set right now…..

Okay, random tangent, sorry. Moving on….As requested by marinewife08, here's a summary of the last chapter: A.J. and Lily fight about the meaning of love (wow, that sounds epic, haha), but Lily eventually lets it drop, though she feels conflicted about doing so. James convinces her to help him prepare for the impending Quidditch after-party shenanigans, and they bond over deep life issues and stuff. At the end, James confesses to Lily that he always gets nervous for Quidditch matches.

Wow, I'm crap at summaries.

Chapter 29: Better Way

When I entered the Great Hall with Mary on Saturday morning, I was pleased to see the ceiling showed clear, sunny skies. Though I'd been telling James the truth when I'd said Quidditch was quickly growing on me, I still didn't fancy sitting through a match in terrible weather. But today was, as James put it just after we'd sat down—

"A perfect day for Quidditch." He took a deep, satisfied breath, grinning excitedly around at his fellow teammates, all of whom seemed a bit less than enthusiastic. In fact, Janice and Christopher, the new Chaser and Keeper, respectively, looked more ready to run for the toilet to throw up than fly around a Quidditch pitch. James, noticing the lack of reaction as well, frowned. "Well, isn't it?"

"'Course it is, mate," Sirius said, "but you always say that before a match."

"That's because any day is a perfect day for Quidditch. And even if it wasn't, I'd expect you all to agree with me anyway," he added, tone stern.

"Ravenclaw's actually good this year, though," A.J. pointed out. "They killed Slytherin in that first match—no one was expecting that."

"I have a feeling you shouldn't have said that," I murmured to my boyfriend, who spared me a quick grin before turning to face his captain.

James met his stare evenly, not speaking until A.J. glanced away again, looking slightly uncomfortable. "You going to catch me a Snitch, Rookie?"

"Yes," A.J. agreed quickly, and James nodded in satisfaction.

"You know," I started conversationally, "that nickname doesn't really apply anymore, since he's not the newest—right, don't disagree with you about anything on a match day," I interrupted myself hurriedly, catching sight of the look on James's face.

"Fast learner, that one," Sirius commented, winking at me.

"Just don't really fancy getting hexed off the planet today," I said. "Another day, maybe."

"Let me know, yeah?" James said, the hint of a smirk twisting his lips.

"Will do," I said cheerfully, buttering a piece of toast and taking a bite.

"So, Miss Mary," James continued, turning to my best friend, "bit of an interesting day for you, eh? What, do you usually sit with the Hufflepuffs, just to neutralize things?"

"No, she cheers for Gryffindor, of course," I interjected quickly, wanting to save Mary from having to go into the whole Andrew-and-I-split-up thing.

She shot me a smile of thanks, but said anyway, "No, no conflicted loyalties anymore, actually."

James frowned, but Sirius said, "You ended it with Mackey, then?"

Mary nodded.

"Really?" James said. "Brilliant—good for you. Always thought he was a bit daft."

I reached around A.J. to smack his arm. "Sensitivity, James, come on."

"Oh, right. Er, sorry."

"It's fine," Mary assured him. "Lily's just got herself convinced that I'm not properly upset about it, even though I've told her a million times that I'm perfectly all right."

"Well, Evans hasn't ever been shot of a bloke, so she wouldn't understand," James said knowledgeably.

I crossed my arms indignantly. "Neither have you, and yet you're claiming to 'understand.'"

"I'm doing no such thing."

"You assumed she wouldn't be cut up about it, which is just as bad as what I've done—worse, in fact, because if she d—"

"The point is," James cut in, "unless you're ready to chuck Rookie, you really can't have a say in the matter, Evans." He was grinning and his tone was joking enough, but the look in his eyes as they met mine made my stomach turn uncomfortably. It was almost as though—

"I said, right Lily?" came A.J.'s voice from beside me.

"What?" I said, breaking eye contact with James.

"You're not ready to chuck me, are you?"

"What? No, of course not," I said. "Of course not," I repeated, shooting James a reproachful look. He was still grinning, but now it reached his eyes.

"Well, now that we've assured ourselves of that, time to go win a Quidditch match," James announced, standing and gesturing for the rest of his team to do the same.

"Wish us luck, ladies," Sirius said, adding to Mary, "Maybe I'll find you at the after party, Macdonald." He raised his eyebrows, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Not going to happen, Sirius," she said firmly.

Sirius shrugged. "Ah well—worth a try."

I stood with the team to give A.J. a good luck kiss. "Seek well . . . or, you know—whatever."

"Well said," A.J. teased.

"Sod off," I said, shoving him in the direction of the Entrance Hall. He laughed and started after his teammates.

"That's love, right there," James commented. Sirius clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, but still James continued to look at me expectantly. "Well?" he prompted.

I raised a questioning eyebrow. "Well . . . what?"

"Aren't you going to wish me good luck?"

"I didn't think you needed it," I said sweetly. "Nothing to be nervous about, is there?"

James frowned at me. "All right, no need to rub it in."

"What's the matter? You can dish it out, but you can't take it, is that it?"

"Fine—I'm leaving," he said, adopting an affected air.

"Okay, I'm sorry," I said, laughing and grabbing his arm to stop him walking away. "Good luck," I added, and, without quite knowing what made me do it, I stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

As my heels touched down again, I found James giving me that same look of surprise he'd had after I'd hugged him on Platform nine and three-quarters. But, as he had then, he turned without comment and left the Great Hall.

I sat back down to find Mary looking at me oddly.

"What?"

But all she said was, "We should probably head down soon as well if we want good seats."

OOOOOOOO

We met up with Remus and Peter on the way down to the Quidditch pitch, and the four of us founds seats together in the magically raised stands.

"There's something about a match day, isn't there?" Mary inquired of no one in particular as we waited for the teams to emerge from the changing rooms. "A certain feeling in the air, or . . . oh, I don't know."

"Poetic," I said dryly, earning a glare from my friend.

"Well, I always like to think of it as a prediction about how the next few days will go," Remus said.

"What do you mean?" Mary asked.

"If we win, Sirius and James will be strutting around like they're the bleeding kings of England—"

"In other words, behaving just as usual, then," I said.

Remus grinned at me before continuing, "But if we lose . . ."

"They're about as fun to be around as a dead flobberworm," Peter finished.

Mary and I laughed. "So, neither of you ever caught the Quidditch fever," I observed after a moment. "How's that?"

"You mean, why didn't we ever try out for the team?" Remus asked. I nodded, and he shrugged. "Dunno. Guess I just never fancied sitting on a broom for hours while dodging people dead set on knocking me off or seriously injuring me with viciously heavy black balls."

I raised my eyebrows. "Better never let Potter hear you talk like that."

"Oh, he already knows my opinion on the matter. Doesn't mean I don't enjoy watching the matches, of course."

"And that's acceptable to him?" I teased.

Remus shrugged again. "That, and I occasionally allow him and Sirius to force me into playing a two-a-side match with Wormtail over the summer holidays."

"Ah, the heavy price of friendship," I said wisely, causing Remus to grin at me again.

"So, what about you, Peter?" Mary asked.

The other Marauder wrinkled his nose. "I'm rubbish at flying," he said.

"Can't be worse than us," Mary said, gesturing between herself and me.

"Oh, I think he is, actually," Remus supplied helpfully, but Peter didn't even try to argue.

I raised my eyebrows. "Well, maybe I should have another go at it with you instead of James," I said. "Even if it is third on the list."

Both Remus and Peter frowned at me. "What list?" Peter asked.

"Potter was teasing me last year about how I'd never been in detention, gotten drunk, or flown properly—or at least without making a complete prat of myself—on a broom. So, of course he decided he'd better make it his personal mission to remedy the situation."

"Well, he had nothing to do with you getting that detention last year," Remus pointed out.

"No, nor did he have any affect on my . . . beverage choices at his birthday." Here I glanced back at the Quidditch pitch, unwilling to meet Remus's eyes as I brought up the source of our falling out.

Lucky for me, Remus didn't get the chance to answer as Quidditch commentator Charlie Hanson's magically magnified voice boomed across the pitch to start announcing the teams. Fourteen scarlet and blue blurs took to the air, and the match began.

OOOOOOOO

"Well, you're saved from a depressing week, at least," I commented to Remus in the common room two hours later. We were standing on the outskirts of the party celebrating Gryffindor's recent win.

"So it would seem," Remus agreed, smiling in amusement at his best mates as Sirius and James led the small crowd—including the other members of the Gryffindor team—around them in a rousing chorus of the Hogwarts school song. "Butterbeer?" he added, turning to the table behind us and offering me a bottle.

I accepted, clinking it against Remus's and taking a swig. "Cheers," I said. Then I frowned, unwillingly reminded of past Quidditch parties. They never seemed to go too well for me, what with James's kiss last year and the mess with Remus . . .

"Stop it, Lily," Remus demanded, and I turned to find him looking at me sternly.

"Well, you were obviously thinking about it too," I accused. "And I can't help feeling guilty every time I—"

"I told you, you don't need to keep apologizing."

"Still. I can't believe I almost let that happen. And I can't believe you're standing here now, trying to make me feel better about it."

Remus didn't answer, but after a moment he grinned suddenly and said, "I wonder what people would think if they'd been listening to us just now. Because it almost sounded like . . ." He trailed off, and I ran over our recent conversation in my head.

Jaw dropping in indignation, I hit his arm with my butterbeer bottle. "Remus Lupin, I'm shocked—I'd never have expected you of all people to possess a dirty mind."

"Blame Sirius, if you must."

"Oh, I intend to."

Remus grinned again, but he was no longer looking at me. Following his gaze, I was surprised to see Carin—the common denominator in my interactions with Remus at parties, it seemed—standing near the portrait hole, chatting with a couple people I didn't recognize. "What's she doing here?" I asked curiously.

"There are a lot of them here, actually."

I assumed he meant Ravenclaws and, upon closer inspection of the common room, I discovered he was right. "Weird. Well, that's school camaraderie for you, I suppose." But when I glanced up at Remus again, he didn't appear to have heard me. In fact, he was still staring at Carin. An idea sparking, I started to grin. "Oh, I see—you do fancy her, don't you?"

That got Remus's attention. "What? No," he said quickly, shifting his eyes to my face.

I just raised my eyebrows, and Remus reddened slightly. "Aha!" I said triumphantly.

"It's . . . I . . . it's nothing," Remus attempted to protest.

"Mhmm, sure it isn't," I said, continuing to grin knowingly.

Remus glared at me, then shook his head. "Well, I'm not—"

"Go talk to her," I interrupted. Remus looked at me doubtfully, and I gave him a little shove in the right direction. "Go!"

Sparing me one last glare, he walked over to Carin. Smiling in satisfaction as I watched her face light up at his approach, I quickly scanned the room for James, Sirius, or Peter, wanting their take on the matter. I spotted the first almost right away; he'd broken away from the crowd and was currently chatting up a pretty and petite brunette from Ravenclaw. He laughed loudly at something she said, and I sighed, muttering in annoyance, "Why are they even here?"

"All the Ravenclaws, you mean?" commented A.J. from beside me, and I jumped slightly, having missed his approach. "Sorry," he added, "didn't mean to startle you. As to your question—I don't know, really. James invited some of them after the match, just for a laugh, mostly, but then it sort of spread and . . . well, here they are."

"Here they are," I repeated, looking over again at James and his . . . friend. James was leaning casually against the wall next to her, twirling a bit of her hair around his finger. "Lovely." Suddenly not in the partying mood, I turned to A.J. "Look, can you do me a favor? If Potter's ever . . . free, will you remind him we have rounds tonight? And tell him I'd greatly appreciate it if he, one, actually showed up, and two, wasn't completely smashed."

"Sure," A.J. said, frowning. "But where are you going?"

"Upstairs—homework," I explained briefly.

"Come on, Lily—" A.J. started.

"Please just . . . I don't need you to tease me right now," I said shortly, not sure myself why I was suddenly angry.

"I wasn't teasing," he said, frowning. "I was just—" But apparently deciding against whatever he'd been about to say, he continued, "All right. Er, see you later, then?"

Feeling guilty for snapping at him, I kissed him lightly. "Sure."

Sparing James one last glance, I saw that he was now snogging the Ravenclaw girl. With a last derisive snort, I disappeared up the dormitory stairs.

OOOOOOOO

I couldn't focus on work, however. It might have been that the noise of the party was still faintly audible even several floors up, but I knew that wasn't what was truly distracting me. James and the Ravenclaw girl kept popping into my head. I didn't know why it bothered me so much, but . . . he'd never been the type to go snogging girls just for the hell of it, with no intention of starting anything with them—that was much more Sirius's territory. And for some reason, the fact that James was doing it now irritated and, quite frankly, disappointed me.

That disappointment only heightened when I returned to the common room several hours later. The party, of course, was still in full swing, and it took me a moment to locate the Head Boy. When I did, I let out a frustrated sigh. He was once again snogging the Ravenclaw brunette—no, wait a minute, it wasn't her. It was an entirely different girl; this one I was pretty sure was a Gryffindor fifth year, but I really wasn't going to bother making any effort to come up with her name. Making a noise of disgust in the back of my throat, I started angrily towards them.

A hand shot out and grabbed my arm, halting my progress. "Aw, have a heart, Evans, don't interrupt them," a slightly tipsy Sirius said.

I snatched my arm out of his grasp. "Well, unfortunately, Potter has other things to do right now. Rounds," I elaborated, when Sirius just looked at me in confusion.

"Ah, bad luck for Prongs," he said with mock sympathy. Then he grinned. "But good luck for me!"

I just rolled my eyes and continued towards Potter, pulling him none too gently away from the girl he was snogging. She shot me an affronted look, which I ignored, marching Potter towards the portrait hole.

"I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder at the girl. To me, he added, "Really, Evans, you could've just gotten in line. It'd be the courteous thing to do, after all."

I glared fiercely at him. "I'm not amused, Potter."

"Well, that much is obvious." Finally noting our current trajectory, he said, "Wait, where are you taking me?"

I stopped dead to face him. "You're kidding, right? I thought you said you'd never forget again."

Comprehension dawning, James nodded slowly. "Rounds, right. Damn."

I stalked out of the portrait hole, leaving Potter to follow me. He stumbled slightly over the threshold, but quickly caught up, easily keeping pace with my long, angry strides. "Seems bloody unfair, that we still have to do these. I mean, I've half a mind to go straight to McGonagall right now, and demand that we have Quidditch days off." He grinned at me, and I met his gaze suspiciously. It was like he hadn't even noticed my anger at all. The old Potter would have just ignored it, sure, but . . . Potter stumbled slightly again, and I stopped walking abruptly.

"Merlin, Potter, are you drunk?" I exploded.

"What? No, 'course not," he protested. "Well, maybe just a little," he added in a carrying whisper.

I gaped at him for a moment, tried to say something, but only ended up producing a sort of strangled sound in the back of my throat. I strode off along the corridor again, arms crossed tightly over my chest.

"Come on, Lily, it's not—" James started, hurrying after me once more.

I whirled around to face him, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise at my furious expression. "It's not what? Not that bad? Because that's complete bullshit, Potter! It is that bad, and you're just—I mean, you don't even realize . . . Look, I don't care if you think this Head stuff is stupid, or if you think you've got to prove to Sirius that you don't really take the responsibilities seriously, but—"

"Oh, here we go," James shot back, rolling his eyes. "Another lecture on bloody responsibility. Honestly, is that all you can think about?"

"When you're acting like this, it is! I mean, what were you thinking? Really, Potter, I'm curious what exactly went through your head. Did you sit there and go, 'Right, I can afford to skip just this one time; rounds really aren't that important, and Lily'll probably cover for me anyway, so I might as well just get drunk and snog every girl in the room while—'"

"Ah, so that's what this is about then, is it?" Potter interrupted.

"What? No! For once, the extent of your shallowness is not my primary concern—"

"You sure? Because I really think it might be. Maybe you should get your story straight, Evans." And he walked away, leaving me to run after him this time.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

"Nothing," Potter replied shortly.

"Look, Potter, there's obviously something you want to say, so—"

"You really want to know? It's you."

"What's me?"

"My problem."

"I'm your problem," I repeated. "How d'you work that one out?"

James let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. "It's—you're—you're just—"

"I'm what?"

"So goddamned judgmental! All the time! You just have these—these impossibly high standards for everyone, and if they don't measure up, well, that's too bloody bad for them, isn't it? But you know what, Evans, not everyone's perfect. Hell, you sure aren't perfect! You think that doing the 'right thing' and always following the rules is what you're supposed to do, but really, it just makes you boring."

I blinked, stunned into silence. But then James did something that surprised me even more. His expression, so angry moments before, sort of crumpled, and he slid down against the nearest wall, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

Without hesitating, I sat down beside him. "James, what's going on?" I asked quietly. Because somewhere in the middle of his ranting, I'd realized I wasn't the one he was angry at.

"I didn't mean it," he mumbled through his fingers.

"I know. What's going on?" I repeated.

He raised his head to look at me, hazel eyes expressionless. "My dad died," he stated bluntly.

"Er, I know," I said uncertainly.

"No, I mean today. Not—well, you know, seven years ago, but it was today. October twenty-fifth."

"Oh James, I'm sorry," I said, reaching for his hand. I gave it a quick squeeze, but as I made to let go, his fingers tightened around mine, and I let my hand remain in his grasp.

"No, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I mean, it's no excuse to act like a git—maybe if it really had just happened today, but seven years later?"

I shrugged. "Well, I don't mind. I mean, I got it from you for five years, so what's a few minutes more, right?" I joked.

James cracked a small smile at that. "You're bloody amazing, you know that?"

I shrugged modestly, though my heart suddenly skipped a beat. "Well, yeah," I said casually.

"I mean it," James continued insistently. "I would've just punched me in the face and left, but here you are . . ."

"Wait, so you're saying that the next time I yell at you for no reason, you're going to punch me?" I asked.

James laughed. "No. I mean, probably not; I guess I can't promise anything." He crossed his arms over his knees again, and it was only as he dropped my hand to do so that I realized he'd still been holding it.

"Well, I suppose I've been forewarned, now," I said, flexing my fingers slightly and hoping that James didn't notice. We were quiet for a minute, and then I asked in a low voice, "Do you miss him? Your dad, I mean? Well, I'm sure you do, and obviously you don't have to talk about this if y—"

"Yes and no," James said, as though he hadn't heard anything after my first question. "I do miss him, but it's more of a general . . . wishing he'd never died in the first place thing than . . . well, of course I wish he'd never died, but . . ." he laughed a little again. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

I shrugged. "To be honest, not really, no."

James thought for a moment. "I guess it's like . . . I sort of miss the idea of him." He wrinkled his nose. "That's sounds a bit horrible, but . . . even though I was ten when he died—I don't want to say that I've forgotten him, because that's not quite right—it's become harder for me to . . ." he trailed off again and was quiet for a couple seconds. Finally, he said, "It sounds weird, but I have trouble picturing what he'd think of me."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, for instance, I wonder what he'd think of me being Head Boy." He smiled wryly.

"'Proud' sounds a little cliché, but . . ."

"Right, that's what I mean."

"What about all the pranking and general havoc-causing? Would you tell him about that?"

"Dunno," James answered. "I mean, not the specifics, like the Map—"

"Or that you're breaking the law with the Animagi bit."

"Or that, no. But . . . well, the cloak was his, so I s'pose he'd sort of expect me to use it."

"So you get all the mischief-making genes from him, is that what you're saying?" I said teasingly.

But James just frowned slightly. "I really don't know. I never had a chance to ask him that much about his Hogwarts days."

"Oh. Sorry," I said quickly, blushing.

"Nah, it's probably better this way," James said, smirking again. "Wouldn't want to have to live in his shadow, after all."

I rolled my eyes. "Competing with your dead father . . . only you would think of such a thing."

"Well, I've undoubtedly executed all my 'mischief-making,' as you put it, with exceptional brilliance, so it'd hardly be a fair competition, anyway."

"No, I guess it wouldn't," I agreed dryly. After a pause I added, "All things considered, though, I still feel obligated to tell you that this isn't exactly the healthiest way to deal with . . . everything."

"What isn't?"

"You know," I said, jerking my thumb in the direction of the common room.

"Oh, you mean getting drunk and snogging every girl in the room?" he asked with a grin.

"Yes, that," I muttered.

"Never can resist a chance to lecture me, can you, Flower?"

I looked at him carefully, and his grin slipped slightly at my considering expression.

"You make me nervous when you look at me like that," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. "I thought you never got nervous. Well, except for Quidditch matches."

James frowned at me. "You're never going to let that go, are you?" He sighed when I shook my head. "Never confess a weakness to an enemy," he added regretfully.

I smiled briefly, but couldn't help asking, "You don't really think I'm boring, do you?" I blushed again at the amused look James shot me.

"'Course not, Flower, where would you get such a silly idea like that?"

I snorted. "Right. How ridiculous of me. But . . . well, it's just . . . sometimes anger makes people . . . well, it forces the truth out," I finished in almost a whisper, now determinedly not looking at James, knowing he would be perfectly aware of the event I was alluding to.

I could feel his eyes on me as he answered seriously, "I hardly ever mean anything I say when I'm angry."

"Right . . . er, good," I said, still refusing to meet his eye. Eventually, James looked away again, and I watched out of the corner of my eye as he pulled something out of his pocket. Glancing over, I saw that he was playing with a Snitch, and I smiled a little at the irony, wondering if he'd done it on purpose.

"Why do you always steal the Snitch?" I asked.

James let the small golden ball flutter out of his hand, turning to grin at me as he did so. "Well," he said, grabbing the Snitch again without looking at it, "they're never much use after a match, so I figure they'll be the least missed. Plus, it's hard to fit a Quaffle in your pocket."

I laughed. "Fair enough. But what do you mean, the Snitch is useless after a match?"

"They've got flesh memories," James explained. "A sort of . . . record, of the first person to touch it. In case a catch is ever disputed. So after a game, they're really only used again in practice."

"So they've got to buy a new Snitch for every match?" I asked incredulously.

"Yep."

"Wow. Well, no wonder the sinks in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom have never been fixed."

A/N: Okay, I know, A.J. is still here. And I could actually picture all of you shaking your fists at me and cursing me to the next century at the "No, of course I'm not ready to dump you" bit from Lily. BUT you should just know that I've got major A.J. sabotage planned for the next chapter….and yes, that was supposed to be a Mean Girls reference ;)