PHASE 2—The Training

"The first step to achieving complete man-babedom is the body. Whatever your mommy may say, there is no way a fat little blubber thing is sexy. And when it comes to fan clubs, sexy is what it's all about."

Peter nodded, scribbling on a piece of parchment.

"Now, within that, we have two subcategories. First, is being built. You don't need to have muscles bigger than the girl's head or anything; not all girls are into that sort of stuff. Personally, if I date a man with smaller muscles than me, I think of it as insurance against domestic violence."

"So, does that mean I don't need to have muscles?" Peter asked.

Marlene laughed. "No. That means I'm in a minority. You need some muscles. But first you got to lose a lot of weight."

Peter sighed, and threw away the doughnut he was munching on, before returning to his parchment.

"The next part is much harder to pull off—height. No girl wants to have to bend down to kiss her guy. So, we'll probably have to target the shorter side of the fan clubs. And just as important is what goes on the body. What you wear is essential."

"Um… I wear the school uniform."

"And…?"

"It's the same as everyone else."

"Are you doubting me, Pettigrew?"

"…no."

"After the body, we have the"—

"Brains?"

"No. You're stupid. We have the hair. Possibly the most important appendage of all. Male hair needs to be soft and luscious, something a girl can imagine running her hands through while snogging you. Some girls like it short and curly, some like overly styled, hair-gelled, some like Mohawks. I think the thick and flippy hair would work best on you."

More scribbling on the parchment.

"Next, we have the face. Not as important as the hair, but no one wants to date the king of acne. And last, but not least, is personality."

"Like Gobstones Club?"

"Exactly."

"Sweet. I always knew that was my best attribute."

"No. 'Exactly' as in, you are, as of now, ending all connections with the Gobstones Club, because that is exactly the type of personality you don't want."

"Oh." And once again, Peter's quill was on the parchment.

Marlene groaned. There was much work ahead of her.

"And no notes, for Merlin's sake."

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"Sweet Merlin… Remus needs to lay off on the chocolate," Peter groaned, dragging the unconscious Remus along the crowded library bookshelves. "Couldn't you try helping, Prongs?"

James grunted at Peter—some sort of Neanderthal language he was reverting to, Peter decided—and returned to looking up at the ceiling, sighing, and thinking of Lily.

"Dude, Prongs. Get over it. Lily's just one fish in the pond. A very big pond. If it's the red hair you're into, get a Weasley or something. Or date a muggle."

"Shut up Wormtail. You wouldn't understand. What do you know about girls? You've never dated anyone."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Exactly. I know everything there is to know about rejection. I know more than you think. No one wants to go out with a guy like me."

James bit his lip. "Look, Peter, I'm sorry. It slipped out. But it's Lily. Don't you ever just know something? Ever since fourth year, I've known she's the one. Should I go back on that?"

"James, you've given her three years. If she wanted a little bit to be with you, wouldn't she have said something by now?"

"I just… Why won't she say yes?"

"Prongs, you've agreed to the bet—do you want to kiss Snape? Can't you just get over her?"

James sighed. "I"—

"Yeah, Lily, I'm not so sure you can be allergic to a human."

James and Peter jumped, letting go of Remus, at the sound of the voice, which must have been coming from the other side of the bookshelf.

"Oh, when that human is James Fucking Potter it is more than possible. I swear, I get pissed off just being in his vicinity. He just—ugh—he just needs to get a life. Why can't he get it through to his tiny little brain that I will never say yes?"

Peter raised an eyebrow at James, who just grunted once again in his cave-man tongue, and hoisted Remus onto his shoulder to be buried.

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"Faster! Run faster, fatty!"

"Please… Marlene… I… I think… I'm dying…" Peter panted as he sprinted through the hallways.

"No! We have limited time to work with! Only the rest of seventh year. If we slowed down the pace, you wouldn't even get near our goal for you by the end of the year."

"Do you…have to…be…on my back?"

"Of course I do! We're working your core strength and burning calories at the same time. See, you burn more calories than you take in. Which is why you can't eat for the rest of the week."

"Couldn't… you just…try human…transfiguration? It'd help…you study…"

"Oh. I suppose that might work…" Marlene said slowly, dismounting a fainting Peter Pettigrew.

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"And I had to dig my way out. Hippogriffs, you faint once and they bury you," Remus whined, meticulously turning another page of Jane Eyre.

Mary gave him a small smile. "Unfortunate…but hey, you were still on time for our date."

Remus gave her a serious look. "I would never be late to a study session."

"Ha… the girls from your fan club weren't kidding, were they?" Mary teased, looking admiringly at her new boyfriend. Her old ones were all toescum. They didn't care about her at all, so, naturally, she had joined the Remus Lupin Fan Club, because Remus had always seemed like the nicest of the marauders. And so Mary had started dreaming of study dates—reading and eating chocolate—and couldn't have been more ecstatic when Remus had asked her out. He was so much less cocky than Sirius. "Are you ever late for a study date?"

"Shh… I'm at the part where Jane saves Mr. Rochester from the fire."

Mary looked at Remus, who was entranced in the book, his eyes roving the pages at lightning speed. She shrugged, and returned to her Potions book—that was what happened when you date a nerd, she supposed. But there was only so long one could content oneself with a confusing potions book.

"Remus, what's the difference in effect between slicing and crushing the runespoor egg?"

"What?" Remus looked up, confused. "I don't think there are eggs in Jane Eyre."

"Never mind. It was potions stuff."

"Oh." And Remus turned back to his battered copy of the classic (and kind of boring) Bronte tale.

But not for long.

"So… call it a stupid question, but what do you smell in Slughorn's Amortentia?"

Remus looked a little annoyed, but sighed, and set himself to the question. "Er… this book—I know all my books by smell, you see. And a bit of chocolate."

"Oh."

Mary turned back to her Potions book, which suddenly seemed much more entertaining.

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"Why am I wearing heels?"

"They're not heels, Peter. They're just shoes with a platform underneath the heel, to boost your height a little."

"I'm pretty sure that's what heels are."

"They look nothing like heels. The platform is thick, and barely noticeable. But hey, call them heels if it makes you happy."

"Are you sure this will impress girls?"

"Peter, your height is one of your weakest assets."

"And now the fact that I'm wearing heels is an even weaker asset. What will the girls think about that?"

"If everything goes to plan, the girls won't be looking at your shoes, but your eyes, and your hair, and hopefully your new-found muscles. The only reason they'll be looking at your shoes is to see how big your feet are. Because you know what they say about big feet."

"That people with big feet wear big shoes?"

"…. You've got much to learn, my young padowan."

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"Hey!" Alice exclaimed at the sight of Sirius. He was looking even more dashing than ever, she decided, running to catch up with him.

"Oh," Sirius blinked his eyes, like waking up from a deep sleep. "Er… Alice, right?"

Alice laughed. "That's Master to you, remember?"

Sirius nodded groggily, his eyes glazing over her hair, immaculately pulled back with a patent leather headband, to her drooping, oversized sweater and loose robes, her longer-than-regulation skirt to her perfectly shined Mary Janes, free from scuffs of any kind.

"Um… Sirius? You okay?"

Alice looked down to those shoes, debating what the silence meant. Finally—

"I'm your master, remember? I could just chop off your head for having the impertinence of not answering me."

The corners of his mouth went a bit crooked. "Well, then I suppose I must answer?"

"I suppose you must," Alice replied, doing her best to hide a giggle.

"I don't feel much like talking today, though, your highness."

"Isn't that too bad? I shall have to get out my whips and chains, and the ever-dreaded comfy chair. And a second thing, it is not 'your highness'. It's Master."

Sirius nodded, and turned to the stairs he quickly hopped down.

"Now, your master would quite like to know what you're doing out on a full moon? Aren't you afraid of the werewolves?"

Sirius turned to her, slowly. "Werewolves? Are you afraid of them?"

"That's it! Your master doesn't like her servants so impertinent. I shall have to flog you with a wet noodle."

Sirius nodded, and quickened his pace.

"But, then again, I think I know exactly what you're doing. You're so loyal to your master that you're killing off all of the werewolves out there—so you can protect me! What a good servant you are! I guess I'll have to promote you to butler some day. Or at least head maid."

Sirius spotted James and Peter near the door to the Great Hall. "Sorry, Ariel—er, Alice, I have to go."

"Oh? So soon?" Alice asked, taken off guard.

"Yeah, those werewolves are calling my name," Sirius said, with a rather dispirited fist pump.

Alice laughed. "If you're that into them, maybe I shall have one visit for your next beating. Inter-species rape, just for you?"

Sirius' face hardened, and the horrified stare was gone as soon as it came. "Look… I really have to go. We can talk about this later, maybe over butterbeer sometime. But not now."

Alice could have sworn her heart stopped right at that moment. Butterbeer? With Sirius Black?

Sirius' brow creased as Alice unconsciously clutched at his arms. How in Merlin's balls was he going to get to the others?

"Next Hogsmeade weekend?" Alice suggested. "At the Three Broomsticks?"

Sirius' neck strained as he saw James and Peter exiting the building, and was only partly paying attention as he shrugged Alice's arm off. "Sure. Sounds like a date."

"Yeah… a date…" Alice sighed, dreamily, looking deeply into Sirius' dark eyes.

He gave her a brief nod, yanked his appendages from her grasp, and scampered over to his fellow marauders, with relief that the ordeal was over.

"Have fun werewolf hunting!" Alice cried across the hall to her new friend.

Sirius cringed, not brave enough to look at his friends—or any of the other spectators for that matter.

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"I said untuck the bloody shirt!"

"But, McGonagall might see!"

"Merlin, I have to do everything for you, don't I?"

Peter squealed and squirmed as Marlene pulled at his shirt.

"Come on. McGonagall doesn't give detentions for loose shirts."

Peter raised an eyebrow.

"She gives detentions for this."

And Marlene pulled his khakis underneath his bum.

"Argh! Take it back!"

"Don't even bother trying to pull them back up; I'm getting a lot better at Charms."

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"And you're sure that I can't transfigure Frank into a pile of galleons, Lily?"

Lily nodded furiously. "Gamp's law says—"

"Frank?"

Marlene looked up to find that girl…Alice. The sixth year.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, setting down her bag next to Marlene, and sliding into the accompanying seat.

Okay, Marlene thought, just barge in on us. "Studying," Marlene said, sugary-sweet.

"Oh, yeah, that's what I'm here for too," Alice nodded enthusiastically. "It's just a quaint little meeting spot, isn't it? I can't help but find so many friends wherever I go in the library!"

"Friends?" Lily piped up, actually looking up from her book (Hogwarts; A History never fails to entertain some people).

"Oh, yes, after I ran into Frank the other day—sorry again—we're friends now."

"She also tutors remedial Herbology," Frank clarified quietly.

"Other people do that?" Marlene scoffed.

"And once I learned that, I couldn't help but start to love him!" Alice laughed. "I mean, it is so hard to find a fellow Devil's Snare enthusiast these days!"

Frank smiled.

Lily and Marlene blinked.

Alice didn't blink.

But she kept on smiling.

With every one of her teeth showing.

"Oh… don't tell me you don't like Herbology. You have to! It is the best subject!"

"Potions," Lily coughed.

"And you have to hear this Herbology joke! It is the funniest thing! Okay… now, what looks like a mandrake, smells like a mandrake, tastes like a mandrake, but has a better name?"

Lily and Marlene blinked again.

Frank smiled.

Alice smiled harder.

"A babydrake!"

Lily wondered whether Alice would notice Lily reading if she read out of the corner of her eye.

Marlene wondered if Gamp would object to her poofing up some popcorn. She was kind of hungry.

Frank wondered if Alice could be more attractive.

Alice smiled.

"Get it? Because mandrakes have babies on the bottom, and I called it a babydrake, because that would be more fitting. You know? Yeah… it's funny because it's true."

Frank looked at Alice lovingly.

Alice wondered if Sirius would appreciate that joke.

Lily gave up all pretenses and turned completely to Hogwarts; A History.

Marlene threw up just a little bit in the back of her throat.

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"Do the flip."

Swoosh.

"Again."

Swoosh.

"God, Peter. Your hair is orgasmic. But you're not one of Charlie's Angels. You don't need to put your hand on your hip and pout after flipping your hair."

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"So, if your dorm room was on fire, and you only had a minute, what would you get?"

"My Mimbulus Mimbletonia. Definitely."

"Really? Me too! Well… maybe after I got my collector's edition sample of Gurdyroot cross-pollinated with Dittany."

"You have that? You have to show me some time."

Lily rolled her eyes, and forced her nose deeper into the soothing and familiar feel of Hogwarts: A History, rereading for the millionth time the misfortune of Rowena Ravenclaw and her daughter. Nothing could give her as much comfort as that complete tragedy—it really put her own misfortunes into perspective, you know?

Of course, Marlene seemed to be suffering from Alice and Frank's idle, enthusiastic, and too loud chatter as if her own diadem of pure power and wisdom had been stolen from her by her own flesh and blood. Her breath came out in heavy, frustrated pants, her eyes narrowed with each mention of Abyssinian shrivelfig, her fingers tensed to the point that if you poked them, they'd probably fall off.

Needless to say, there was not much studying going on.

Not that it really had an effect on Lily, who had mastered ignoring other people while reading. It really was the only way to get work done when James Potter was the Head Boy.

It wasn't exactly that he was obnoxiously loud and annoying, but he just always seemed to be talking around her. If he wasn't asking her out, he was blabbering about something or other, from his grandmother to his dream to be a auror, his fear of abandonment to his love of his fellow marauders. It was accelerated small talk, idle chatter gone bad, and almost always unrequited. Lily rarely returned the favor of his greetings.

Maybe she should have once in a while… like that time when he had asked her what she thought of him, honestly. And if Lily didn't do small talk, she definitely didn't do serious talk. Scholarly talk, friendly talk, necessary talk, but serious had always scared her away.

And when James had approached her earlier in the library, and asked her out that last time, he definitely sounded serious. Strangely, contrary to his endless blabber, he had popped the question, and then shut straight up, eyes never straying from hers. (Funny that the only guy who kept his eyes on hers and never below was the only guy she swore to hate). It was rather like an ultimatum. And if it was… would that mean she would be left in peace? No one bothering her, just her and her book.

Lily laughed. Like that would happen. James would ask her out, with out failure for the rest of their school career together, and that would be that. For James to stop asking her out would be like Marlene thinking of someone other than herself, or Frank getting a date. Not going to happen.

And she may have to live with James asking her out constantly, but, once again, Hogwarts; A History saves the day—at least he wouldn't murder her like the Bloody Baron murdered Helena Ravenclaw. And she wouldn't have to see him every single day after, with chains and blood all over him or something.

Though, really—but Lily would never truly admit it—that sounded exciting. Some mysteriously handsome man, after you, and desperately in love with you, and paying the rest of his days pining for you from afar. Aside from the whole murdering bit, it didn't sound too bad. Helena Ravenclaw was the vixen Lily Evans would never be. And maybe, one day, Lily would find her own Bloody Baron (without the blood and chains or murder, of course), who would love her unconditionally, and put her first, and that way she wouldn't have to live vicariously through Helena. Of course, there was no way that was going to happen until a certain James Potter stopped warding off all of her suitors.

Lily sighed at the thought, and propped her chin up on her hand to find a table full of no one other than her, Hogwarts; A History, and a piece of paper which read:

Hey, Lily!

You are fantastically oblivious, and you cannot seem to get your head out of that book. Let me guess… the plight of Helena Ravenclaw again? Well, maybe if you paid attention to your alive and human friends you would have known that Alice and Frank went off to tutor some kid or stare at some plant or something. And I have gone to help Pettigrew (again, the whiny brat…), and then, maybe I wouldn't have to write you this note. What a waste of time, writing this note, wasting the paper and the ink…ugh. Anyway, have fun with your friends—you can say hello to the Baron for me.

-Marlene

Lily blinked. It was suddenly very quiet—even for a library. Lily looked back down at the page she was on, but the words all jumbled together and she couldn't find where she was—or, more like she didn't want to. She blinked again, and closed the book.

Lily sighed, and turned to her homework. It wasn't the same reading without the background noise.

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"This, Peter, is called guyliner."

"Guyliner? That looks like eyeliner."

"Yeah, eyeliner for guys. But guyliner sounds cooler."

"What self-respecting guy wears make-up?"

"Many."

"Oh yeah? Name one?"

"Er…. Just do what I say. Do you want me to leave you alone, and fan-clubless?"

"No…but I'm not putting on any lipstick or anything."

"Don't worry. Just the guyliner. It makes your eyes pop—and look much less watery. But you know, girls prefer guys with make-up at an increasing frequency now."

"Pft. I doubt that."

"Yeah, I know it's weird. But you know how girls are about vampires."

"Maybe I should get some fangs?"

"Hm…that just might work…"

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"Sirius?"

""Uh…er, just a minute!"

"Okay!" Alice cried back, and pulled her watch up to her face.

One minute is long when you think about it, but finally the end came, and Alice pushed through the door, as to not disappoint Sirius when she didn't show up in a minute. He was straightening his shirt when she came in—what a charmer, always trying to look his best for her.

"Er… so, what did you want?" Sirius asked quickly.

"Why are you up here?" Alice pondered aloud, looking around at the dark Astronomy tower.

"I spend a lot of time up here…to, er, read. Yeah. Read. That's what I do. Up here, in the Astronomy tower."

"A bit dark for that, I'd think—but to each his own," Alice yielded. "What are you reading?"

"Reading? Um… well, I love that guy—Wigglestick?"

"Shakespeare?"

"Yeah, him!"

"Which play is your favorite?"

"Play?"

Alice looked at him intently.

"Oh, yes! Play. He wrote like five or something?"

Alice's eyebrows narrowed in confusion.

"Or something like that, anyway… er, my favorite… the funny one, the comedy. Er… what's it called? The comedy of"—

"The Comedy of Errors?"

"Er, I was going to say the comedy of Shakespeare, but I suppose that's fine too."

"What a kidder you are! Don't worry, I love Comedy of Errors too. Who's your favorite character?"

"The main one."

"Again! What a joker. You're too funny," Alice giggled, slapping him on the shoulder. "But, no. Seriously."

"Er…Timothy, no… Luke?" Sirius guessed.

"Luke? Oh… Luce. Some people can't pronounce Italian. It's loo-chey," Alice sighed, but hastily added, as if she had forgotten something, "Now, I don't blame you. I mean, it's not like I can pronounce French or anything!"

Sirius paused. "Oh, look at the time, shouldn't you be going?"

"Oh, yes!" and Alice dashed out.

"Did you just tell her that she should be going?" a voice drawled from the shadows.

Sirius blushed himself and nodded.

"And then she agreed with you and left? Embarrassed much?"

Sirius sighed. "It's Alice. She should always be embarrassed. I mean, she thinks she's so funny and such a great friend, but it hurts me to hang out with her; I am embarrassed for her."

"Ouch."

Sirius nodded earnestly. "And she's been convinced for the past week—ever since I started talking to her—that she's my mistress. Just because I told her that I was forever in her debt for running into her or something. I honestly don't remember, but she won't forget. Merlin, she carries everything too far—like her joke about me hunting down werewolves. I swear, she kills all humor. I've almost lost the will to be a marauder—like if she's too close to me, she'll drain me of my humor forever."

"Drastic…" the voice snickered.

"Don't laugh. You were just as annoyed with Remus—why else would you break up with him?" Sirius taunted, throwing off his recently put-on shirt, and crawling towards Mary MacDonald.

"Yes…break up…" she laughed nervously.

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"So, when a girl puts her hand on your shoulder like this, what do you do?"

"Run away, screaming?"

"Uh… close. I was going for flirting… So, what do you do when you flirt?"

"Show her the scar I got from attempting to levitate a feather back in first year?"

"Maybe say her eyes remind you of the sky instead. But what happens if her eyes are brown?"

"Say her eyes are like chocolate?"

"Okay, not bad…what if her eyes are green?"

"That she's a Slytherin bastard and should slither back to Voldemort?'

"Alright, fair enough. Slytherins are bastards. Now, once she is wooed, what do you do?'

"Take advantage of her."

"What? No! How dare you?" Marlene sputtered indignantly. "You always wait to take advantage until after the second date!"

"Oops. Sorry."

"No problem. So, say it is after the second date—where is the optimal spot to take advantage of her?"

"A broom closet on the sixth floor—far enough away that we are moderately alone, but not too far away from the common room. Astronomy tower may seem like the best location, but Sirius has permanent dibs on it, so don't go up, unless you feel like kinky foursomes."

Marlene sighed, contentedly. "Fantastic. You know, Peter? I think we're really onto something here."

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James flopped back onto his bed, wiping the sweat off his face, and closed his eyes. Full moons hadn't been fun in a while. He shifted onto his side, and closed his eyes. He cracked open an eye, pulled off his socks, and curled into a ball, but with a groan, kicked off the bedding and turned onto his chest instead.

Nothing.

James squeezed his eyes shut. It was late already, if he didn't fall asleep soon he'd be operating on less than two hours of sleep the next day—which just happened to hold in store a Heads meeting. And if Lily was usually pissed at him during those meetings, just think how pissed she'd be if he was nodding off during it.

Ah. Lily Evans. The one woman in this world who didn't fawn over James Potter. Instead, she focused continually on hurting James Potter, mentally, emotionally, and physically. No wonder she was allergic to him, like she had said herself not a week ago.

Maybe it was impossible for her to be allergic to a human being, but James couldn't help imagining hugging a cat that he kept sneezing on. Sure, he could continue asking her out, but she'd just keep sending those verbal sneezes his way. What was the point of having a cat if you were allergic to it?

James sighed once more. Thinking about it was futile; nothing could change what would inevitably happen. He punched his pillow and fell back into his bed.

But before James could close his eyes and fall into a dead man's sleep, the door creaked open, and slammed closed, causing James to sit straight up. Peter was on one of many recent runs, Remus was in the hospital wing, and Frank had somehow managed to stay asleep through the obnoxiousness of the door.

Which left only Sirius.

"Where were you?"

Sirius snorted, throwing his shoes onto Remus' bed. "What are you? My wife?"

There was a collective shudder.

"No, really, why were you out so late?"

"Astronomy tower. Still want to know?"

James shook his head, lips pursed from the unrequited mental images of Sirius and the astronomy tower.

"And why are you still up?"

"Apart from you being way too noisy when entering rooms?"

"Yeah, yeah… just tell me, Prongs."

"I was thinking."

Sirius scoffed. "Thinking. What a waste of time."

James rolled his eyes in return. "About Lily."

"Oh yeah? What is there to think about Lily?"

"She's allergic to me."

"What?"

"Oh, er… forget that. What I mean is, well, I'm giving her up. It's pointless and painful asking her out and all, so I'm giving up."

Sirius nodded as he stripped down to his boxers and slid into bed. "Yeah… that's good for you. But, mate, I thought we already established that you weren't going to ask her out anymore."

James laughed. "And when do I listen to you?"

"Uh, maybe when we tell you you'll have to kiss Snape?"

"Oh…right… forgot about that. But, yeah, anyway, the point is, I am over Lily Evans. I am quitting, cold turkey."

"Finally," Sirius muttered, turning away from James with a yawn.

"Shut up," James muttered back, turning away from Sirius himself.

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"Peter, I think we're done."

"I'm ready?"

"More than that—you're gorgeous."

"You really think so?"

"Yes," Marlene sniffed. "You go out there, you woo some girls, you make some friends, you shag some girls, you make some fans, and you take advantage of some girls."

"Hey Marlene?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind taking your hand off my arse?"