- Chapter VII -
Personal Growth

I hate to be a ruiner of monumentally important moments, but I think it's time to interfere. No one's said anything for the past five minutes, and I've enjoyed as much of this as I can possibly stand. We've all been blankly staring at each other. We've also bored our audience. Everyone's left to do better things and perhaps not be accomplices to murder.

We of course effectively discludes Mina who's been valiantly and persistently staring/glaring at Black, which is beginning to worry me because I am quite sure she's going to gouge a hole straight through his empty sack of a brain.

I mean, I do loathe the boy, but really would not wish this on my worst enemy. It would also harm his hair.

I unfortunately have a soft spot for the boy's hair.

I happen to like it. It's soft and shiny.

I definitely don't want anything to happen to it. Out of all the Marauders, though Potter likes to brag about the beauty of his own, I think Black's hair is the clear winner.

Not that I'd ever admit that.

Or that I had touched his hair once completely on impulse when he fell asleep on the couch in the common room. Potter might shriek at me, go on a jealous rampage and proceed to rip out all of Black's hair for ever touching my hand.

I honestly didn't plan to touch his hair. It's not like I would touch that douchebag unless he were unaware of it. His hair was just strewn across the arm of the couch, and I….I sort of….well, I stroked it. If he happens to get out of this situation retaining the ability to talk, I should really ask him what kind of conditioner he uses, because that was some soft hair.

The aforementioned Black is still sitting, rather comfortably, on the couch across from Mina, and is now trying to force Potter to start talking to him to break the very uncomfortable silence. Potter, on the other hand, is glancing over his shoulder at the volcano that is about to erupt.

Her eye appears to be bulging.

This is not good.

Black lets out a tiny shriek, the only explanation for which (besides him being a little girl) is that he's finally looked into Mina's deathly glare.

Potter has now unfortunately moved out of Black's eye-path. He can see her. Directly. I can only manage what that must be like to endure. Comparable to several kicks in the groin, I presume.

This is splendiferous.

Alright, sometimes I make up words.

"So mate," Black mumbles at Potter feebly, running a hand nervously through his hair, looking sideways at Mina apprehensively, who can't exactly be ignored now that she is openly staring him down.

"The…" his eyes now track slowly to the wand in her hand, currently being twirled around her fingers lazily, emitting bright red sparks from the end.

If I weren't terrified of her myself, I'd scream at Black to run as fast as his little legs could carry him. Mina's frighteningly good at dueling, I've witnessed this first hand. I've seen her use hexes and curses that I'm pretty sure she's invented herself.

Sometimes she doesn't even need her wand.

She once just looked at a guy, no wand or nothing, and zits erupted all over his face. And when I say zits, I don't mean the small, barely noticeable red dots that you get from time to time, that are easily covered up with one layer of makeup.

When I say zits I mean the painful, enormous, pus-filled, horrendous balls of discomfort that occur once every ten years, and make it look like another face is growing out of your cheek. I mean the kind of zits that never fully go away.

I swear I'm not joking.

I don't joke about zits.

It's serious business.

Then again, I'm positive the girls in Hogwarts would still swoon over Black's pathetic self, even with a face full of zits.

Now that I look at him, Black seems unable to form a proper sentence. His sudden change of attitude is surprising. He gulps loudly and loosens his tie. "Um – the…er…the broom –"

If ever there was a time for an axe-wielding maniac to turn up and end his sorry, pathetic excuse for a life, it would be right now. Before Mina blows him up into smitherings. This would be insanely funny if I wasn't afraid of harm to my own person.

"My GOD! Are you completely incapable of keeping your fucking mouth shut?" I hear Mina's unmistakable scream as she throws a Quidditch magazine at Black, but it doesn't make it across the room, coming to a pathetic stop on the common room carpet after flopping miserably in mid air. The rather attractive chaser on the cover scowls at her and zooms away.

Black, however, backs into an arm chair and puts his hands up in defense. "Are you comparing me to God, love? I mean, its great, I'm flattered – but you know…I've never made a tree…"

With a small shriek, Mina jumps out from behind me to lunge herself at Black again, but Potter steps forward and blocks her path. Black looks up from behind him and whispers, "Thanks mate."

"Shut up Padfoot," Potter snaps back tersely.

"What?" Black recoils indignantly. "You betrayer! You're changing more sides than the French!"

"I'm not betraying you, you imbecile," Potter mutters, "I'm saving your stupid life."

Black immediately shrinks back behind him. Mina, being a little short, cannot see Black at all now, and is standing at her tiptoes, trying to resume glaring at him, throwing her arms wide and shifting from side to side, trying to get a better view of Black.

This is turning into a soap opera.

…I want popcorn.

All in all they look pretty bizarre; Mina and Black looking as though they are dancing on hot coal, engaged in an awkward tiptoe barn dance around each other, while Potter stands between them, much like a brick wall.

"Mina," I say patiently as Potter puts his hands on her shoulders and pushes her onto the bases of her feet. "How about we go upstairs?"

I'm trying to avoid a murder here. Black pipes up from behind James, but with a small yelp, he ducks down again, to avoid looking directly at her. Her eyes are like a bloody solar eclipse.

"I have an idea…" he mutters, his voice barely audible against James's back.

Oh, good. He's going to make it worse now.

"You know," Potter says slowly, turning around to face his friend, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Every time you say that, I die a little inside."

Black grins at him.

Mina, annoyed at the lack of sympathy at her rage, looks from Black, to Potter, to me, and back again and yells, "Well, aren't we just a ray of fucking sunshine?"

She really needs professional help. I'm not equipped to deal with this.

I hear a gulp, a sigh, and a dignified "Hmph!", and Black steps to the side, away from James, and he is no longer shielded from Mina's gaze.

Wait.

He's looking back at her, unfaltering.

Has he miraculously grown balls?

No…it can't be.

Sirius Black with balls is like a mythical creature.

Stories have been told about it, for thousands of years.

But it's rarely seen.

Most people go on their entire lives without seeing it. It is a legend, passed down from generation to generation, like the Loch Ness monster. Or Big Foot. The Yeti.

Alright I think I took the balls joke too far. Even though it's in my head and no one knows how bad it is.

"You know," Black suddenly says slowly, not shifting his eyes away from Mina for a second.

I can't really place his expression.

It's blank.

So is hers.

What's going on here?

James looks perplexed. Well, just as perplexed as I am.

A cute frown forms between his eyebrows. And now that I'm looking at his eyebrows, I think that his eyebrows are very properly shaped.

You know, not like its plucked. Like some of the guys.

Or like one huge caterpillar across his face like Tibilius Wilfrick.

It's quite comforting that he doesn't pluck. And his eyes are really pretty even though they are disguised by his glasses. I've rarely seen him without his glasses.

Though he groped me once, rather…inappropriately during a charms class once because Black levitated them off of his face. Apparently it was an "accident." Sure…the spot on groping of my…ahem…northern regions were totally innocent and unintentional. Black told the whole story several times at dinner until he changed it so much that it evolved into a story of me and James having sex in the middle of charms with the entire class watching.

Psh, like that would ever happe –

FOCUS, LILY! FOCUS!

I've been staring at him all this time.

Look. Away. From. James.

Ohmygod.

He's turned to look at me. The cute frown on his face is gone. Now he's just looking at me. And smiling. My mum would always tell me that if you look at a person for too long, they sense you looking and turn to look at you. Does this mean I stare at Potter too much?

Because I DON'T!

I DON'T!

It's quite strange. I'm staring. He's staring. This isn't uncomfortable or alarming. Which in of itself, is alarming.

"Ah, young love," Black sighs happily, "I think it's so – "

"What did I tell you about thinking, Black?" Mina interrupts, her face expression not changing. He continues staring at her, but a small smile playing on his lips. "Don't let your mind wander. It's too small to be let out on its own."

Don't smile, Lily.

Don't smile.

Come on, control yourself.

It wasn't that funny.

My mouth is going to smile! I CAN FEEL IT!

NO! ARGHH!

THINK OF SAD THINGS!

DEAD KITTENS!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH…..

Oh good, god. I'm going insane.

I can almost feel James suppressing his laugh.

His shoulder is shuddering against mine.

His laugh.

He has a great laugh.

It makes me want to laugh with him.

If he starts laughing, I don't think I'll be able to control mine.

I'm expecting Black to bite back with a comment very soon.

"I'd advise you not to get on my bad side, Taylor," He says humorously and moves closer to her. "I'm running out of places that I can hide the bodies."

She lets out a small "Hah," a small smirk playing on her lips.

Great comeback, Mina.

Real witty.

What happened to the angry yelling?

"Whats wrong, out of clever insults?" Black prompts smugly, stepping back and settling himself onto the couch. He picks up the Quidditch magazine that Mina threw at him off the floor and begins reading idly.

James looks at me and blinks.

His eyes are so goddamn pretty.

I mean, overall, he is really attractive.

Really attractive.

I mean, his hair and –

I can even begin to overlook the fact that he is such a child. I can't quite describe the feeling that I'm experiencing right now.

When he looks at me, I just feel….iffy.

This is just fantastic.

I think I'm actually beginning to find…James Potter…hot.

Shoot me.

Now.

"We should shag."

Wait…who said that?

Did James say that?

DID HE READ MY THOUGHTS?

BECAUSE I WILL DENY!

DENY, DENY, DENY!

I'M VERY SELECTIVE OF THE REALITY I ACCEPT!

"Excuse me?" I hear a shrill voice pierce the silence.

"I said," Black looks up from his magazine, and clears his throat, fixing a sincere and direct stare on her. "When this is over, you and I, should have lots of angry sex."

James just choked on his own spit.

Did he just say that to her?

Am I imagining things now?

"I think he's gone crazy. Potter, take him up to his room," Mina, mutters, still staring intently at Black as if he's gone mentally retarded.

Black rolls his eyes at her and turns back to his magazine. "Suit yourself. Just ask around about what you're missing."

Silence.

I hate silences.

It's so uncomfortable.

Scratch that.

It's not uncomfortable.

It's unbearable.

I start talking complete rubbish when it's silent. It's dangerous.

I hate it.

I hate it when the conversation dies out.

And there is nothing to say.

But background noise.

Right now, I hear the flames crackling.

Normally, I wouldn't.

And I'm beginning to notice how annoying it sounds.

Crackle.

Its so – crackle – annoying.

Someone – crackle – say – crackle – someth – crackle – ING!

I can't stand this any longer.

"Lily? Why are you stabbing the fire?"

Good question, James.

Good question.

Because I want the background noise to die.

DIE!

Throwing her hair over her shoulder, Mina says, "I wouldn't."

"You wouldn't what?" Black says distractedly, barely looking at her over his magazine.

"I would never sleep with you."

"Why not?" he asks, still not looking away from his magazine. "I'm good."

He's going to get kicked in the balls.

Shut up, Black.

Shut up.

"You're not my type." She says simply, shrugging and sitting across him in the armchair that he was previously using as a shield to protect himself from her. How times have changed.

He shuts his magazine and looks up at her. "Why not?"

"You're immature." She states, shrugging again. "And to put it nicely, I hope you choke."

Black puts his feet up onto the table and sighs dramatically. "I used to be," he says slowly, waving his hand around as if he's addressing the common room. "I like to think I've grown and matured over the years." He continues, nodding wisely. "Shut up, Prongs," he adds to James, growling and flinging a couple of sickles at him as he pisses himself laughing in the corner.

"Hah! You've grown, my arse!" she snaps at him suddenly, and he jumps in his seat, knocking over several empty glasses with his feet. "A hard-on doesn't count as personal growth, Black."

Oho.

Don't ever play games with a girl who can play better, Black.