- Chapter XI -

The Joys and Harassments of Note Passing

I cannot wait for Christmas break. Three days. Three, whole, torturous days. Three daaaays.

Until then, it's just dull, dull, dully dully and more dull. And more dull. It's just – wait for it – DULL.

I'm so bloody sick of dodging love potion-ed pumpkin juice and running away from Potter. The ladies in horror movies never mentioned how tiring running away is. They just dandily skip away from the monster and live happily ever after.

Or they get eaten.

Which is far less pleasant.

Why can't I do that? Dandily skip away from the monster that is Potter.

Actually, if I'm going to do any skipping, I just want to skip the next ten years of my life, to when I'll probably be a lesbian, will have completely given up on men, and be living alone with a thousand cats.

I'll have separate names for each of them. Like Angus, Buttercup, and Bumblebee. I'll give them all middle names and last names, too. They'll call me 'the crazy cat lady.'

It has a ring to it. I like it.

And the kids will fear me. And I'll beat them off from my cat garden with my walking stick shaped like the tail of a cat.

Potter will make me lesbian. How funny.

And I'm not even into irony.

I shouldn't have given up on Divination. I think I have the 'inner eye' whatsits.

On the other foot, why must Sunday end so quickly? It is so unfair. I hate Sundays. They are unjust. And must be removed from the calendar all together. So should Mondays, for that matter. Why is it that Friday is so close to Monday, but Monday is so very far away from Friday?

One of those unanswerable questions in life.

Another unanswerable question – Why must we have Potions first thing Monday morning? Don't they ever think about students?

On second thought, Slughorn is probably too busy eating crystallized pineapple and growing his gigantic arse to worry about my sleeping patterns. Or Mina's love-life, for that matter. Clearly, seating her two meters away from Sirius Black isn't the brightest thing one can do on a bright and cheerful Monday morning.

I wish Potter would quit breathing so loudly. It's distracting me. And his elbow keeps bumping into mine. My elbow is mine, not his to annoy at his leisure.

His elbow is warm. How it can be warm when it's about minus forty degrees outside is beyond me. Bloody space-heater.

What makes this day even more delightful is that half my robes, and my copy of Advanced Potion Making is covered in green slime, thanks to Mina who spilt all of her Giggling Mix over it. It's supposed to be magenta, not acid green.

Gifted, that's what she is.

And I think that – Ow.

What the hell just hit my head?

Oh, I see. Potter just threw parchment at me.

See, the old Lily would have turned around and yelled at him, but me, the new and improved Lily, shall not. Because I have grown up. Righty-o. I have grown up. MATURED, as they say. Some would think that would make me more normal. Perhaps sane. But no. Of course not.

Now he's making some sort of stupid whistling sound and tapping my hand with his quill. I shall ignore him. Ignore him, Lily. You're a free lady, who deserves to be free, and free, and free, forever. And live with cats. Forever…alone…forev – OW!

I turn around and glare at Potter. "Do I look like a garbage bag to you?" I hiss venomously, as he starts pointing at the parchment by my hand wildly. Hm.

Hello, fine lady.

Where did he learn to write so goddamn small? From a fruit fly?

I might steal his ink bottle. It changes colors. I want it. Perhaps if I point out that it's girly, he'll get homophobic and hand it over. Hm. I must think this plan through.

I let out tired breath and glance at Mina on my right, who's too busy cutting up horn roots to even notice me. I'm quite sure she isn't supposed to cut them that small. Or be muttering under her breath, for that matter. She's looking quite homicidal. I'm planning to scooch my chair away soon. Then again, I'd fall straight into James's face, which is something I'm planning to avoid for the purposes of maintaining my teenage hormones under control.

Very sneakily, I turn around and look at Black, who is next to James and who has leaned his chair into the wall, staring up into space. Clearly being productive, as usual.

I'm having an urge to lean over James and trip Black. But I won't. This might again cause me to somehow be in physical contact with Potter, which is something I am definitely planning to avoid.

James is making odd spitting sounds again. I suppose he wants a reply.

What to do, what to do?

Bah, I'm going to take the bull by the legs and hurl it about a bit and strap on a little hat on its head and …shut up, brain. I'm going to be sophisticatedly nonchalant.

Hi, Potter. What do you want?

Hah. It hit his head. Lovely.

That's what you get for ruining my hair. I spent hours taming that hair. Now I look like I have a bird's nest on my head.

I tap my book impatiently, having finished my Giggling Mix already. I'm waiting for a reply from Potter. Eurgh. This is what happens when Christmas comes around.

This time, he tactfully slides the parchment under my nose, and not on my head.

How are you, this lovely day?

Horrible, how are you?

Oh, how I despise him.

Great.

Oh, how I lie.

Your conversational skills are mind-boggling. I'm great too, thanks for asking. Are you staying for Christmas break?

I am.

Stupid Petunia.

Stupid France.

She just had to go and run off there, didn't she? And Mum and Dad just needed to follow. Pah. She can drown in their bloody frog-legs, for all I care. Petunia, that is. I rather like my parents. I'll keep them frog-free for the time being.

Should I lie to him? Should I not? I'm in a dilemma. Normally, I would, of course. Then again, under the present circumstances, if I lie to him, he'll get huffy and won't talk to me. And that could disrupt our head duties. No. I must be gallant and tell him the truth. For the good of…headness.

What an impatient prick.

Where are you going?

Slowly insane?

Unfortunately, I'm staying put.

Pleaase, he's not staying, say he's not staying, say he's not staying, not staying, not staying, not stayi –

Oh, what a coincidence! As am I! The holiday dictates that we must be celebratory together. Would you like to join me in the festivities?

It's official. God hates me. And chanting is pointless.

…What does that mean? Is that 'guy-speak' for some kind of date? If I agree, does that mean I'm going out with him? If I say yes, do I become "easy" by Hogwarts standards? Do I become just another bimbo he's dated and trashed?

Or is he implying that he and I should collaborate somehow? Exchange word salad? Because nothing good comes of that. Nothing, you understand? NOTHING! I start staring at his hair/ eyes/face/eyebrows/arms/elbows/etc. and then I remember things, and things aren't good to remember because I get embarrassed and that whole chocolate incident thing and it's all very complicated and deeply problema –

"Lily, quit hissing."

"Oh, right. Sorry," I mutter hastily at Mina. I really don't want to bug her today. I'd like all of my limbs attached and my hair on the top of my head. I must regulate my outbursts and limit it to…well, none.

What exactly do you mean by that?

I turn and raise a delicate eyebrow.

Some sort of Christmas celebration, my dear flower. A trip to Hogesmede, perhaps?

…NO. And NO. And also, NO.

Forget it, Potter.

He's pouting. Oh, no. He's pouting. His lips… I think I may faint. NO. WAIT. Control yourself, Lily.

I do have a plan that might make you reconsider.

I cross my arms and allow my eyes to narrow.

Elaborate.

He smiles.

I was thinking, if we were to somehow get Mina and Sirius to go out for the day, they'll make up and I won't have to hear another chorus of 'SHES SO ANNOYING.' It's getting tiring, that.

Ah, it's the old 'we must help out friends out of the goodness of our cold, black hearts!' thing.

So you're doing this for Black?

He just looked at the parchment and snorted…I could have lived a long happy life without hearing him snort.

Dear Lily, course not. I couldn't care less about that crazy lunatic. But in theory, if they do make up, he'll stop complaining, which will benefit me, considering I live with him. Or, better yet, stick them together alone, they'll end up killing each other and we'll be free. It's purely for selfish reasons, see? It's just so that I don't lose my mind and rip all of my hair out. And I know how much you like my hair.

HE LIES! I DO NOT LIKE HIS HAIR! IT'S A LIE, IT'S A LIE! HIS HAIR IS ALL SOFT AND SHINY AND LIKE A FUR COAT AND I'M AGAINST ANIMAL CRUELTY –

I do NOT like your hair. Conceited prick.

He's turned around and is grinning at me.

Oh, your denial is endearing.

I give him a forced grimace.

Oho.

No sireee.

I am not falling for that dumb smirk.

It's repulsive, in fact.

Actually, it is so repulsive that I should agree to go on this thing so that he stops displaying that vile thing to the world.

Yes.

That's precisely why I am accepting this offer.

For the good of the world.

So no one has to bear witness to that awful smirk.

I groan.

Alright. Fine. I surrender. Whatever. But keep in mind (if you want to keep all of your limbs attached), that this is just for Mina. Not for you. Don't you dare try anything.

"No…" he whispers to himself, looking at the note. He has resumed regular conversation. He must be quite shocked. He blinks several billion times. "Hold up, you're actually agreeing to go with me somewhere?" He mutters disbelievingly into my ear, his breath tickling my neck.

Twitch.

Twitch.

I try to glare. Try, being the operative word. Potter looks so good in green light. Damn the stupid Potions lanterns.

"Yes, yes," I snap back, waving him away. His eyes widen in surprise. "No!" I correct myself, and he looks confused. "Well, just for Mina," I clarify, turning my shoulder to him and pretend to be working on my potion. That I'd finished over half an hour ago.

And bragged to him about it.

He knows I'm not doing anything.

Damn my enormous ego in all things academic.

He leans over, even though my shoulder is turned to him. He's practically on top of me. This is very inappropriate. HEY! GETTOF, BOY, GETOFF!

"Alright, Christmas day, then," he confirms and then moves away, shrugging happily and turning back to Black.

I'm melting.

I'm. Melting.

And. I am screwed. I just agreed to go somewhere with Potter.

Merry bloody Christmas to you all.

.x.x.x.

Out of class. Finally. There's only so much praise I can take from a sycophant like Slughorn. He spent the last 20 minutes laughing at one of his jokes. I swear I thought he was going to drown in his own forty chins.

Potter is walking in front of me.

Strutting, more like it.

Strut, strut, strutty, strutty, strut.

Good god, I'm losing my mind. I have to stop objectifying him. But for me to do that, he's gotta stop strutti –

Hm. He turned around. Now it looks like I'm staring at his crotch. Brilliant.

Look away, Lily. Look away.

"Hi," Potter says slowly, smiling at me and grabbing Black by the collar and holding him back, who gasps dramatically, clutching his throat with a little squeak. Realizing his company, he clears his throat in a rather masculine fashion, turns around completely indifferent, and stares away.

"Hi," I echo, grabbing the shoulder of Mina's shirt and pulling her next to me. Her and Black refuse to look at each other. It's quite funny. The rest of the students are filing away from both sides while we sort of dawdle there for a while, Black staring down at his feet as if his shoelaces are telling an interesting story whereas Mina staring hard at a wall.

"Alright then," Potter mutters into the awkward silence, "Good talk." I watch them walk away for a couple of seconds as Potter slaps his friend's head rather irritably, muttering something I can't hear.

Turning the corner –

Oh god, he's looked back.

No, mouth, don't you dare grin back at him, no, NO, NO! I'm having a war with my own body, as my mouth cracks the tiniest smile. Though I suspect it looks like I'm in pain or something. Potter just smirks contently and continues strutting.

That arse.

Speaking of arses, James has a very nice looking one.

Sigh.

No, wait. No sigh.

Sighing never leads to good things. It leads to a lot of Potter-related venting in the common room and inappropriate and unsettling dreams that do not exist that aren't even mine actually they're a friends dream – a friend of a friend not even a friend not even remotely related to me –

Mina's grumbling. Must give her chocolate.

"Come on," I say slowly, nudging her in the direction the boys left. "Let's go."

She shrugs, pouting childishly, pulling at my arm. "No. He's going to be there."

I roll my eyes and try to reason with her. "Well, you have to go some time."

"No," she retorts stubbornly, shrugging again and crossing her arms. "I don't have to."

"No?" I quirk an eyebrow, looking at her with a half-smile. "Sure you don't." She nods in stiff approval. "You'll just sleep out in the great hall all alone." She nods again, now looking less confident.

"All alone." She nods a third time gently, grimacing.

I smile, leaning in and adding, "With the house-elves."

Her eyes widen immediately, twitching a couple of times in rapid succession. "Off we go." She says with an air of finality, grabbing my arm and hauling me into the common room.

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