Owl

Fifth year

Lily carefully attached the letter to the foot of the owl, a cream-bellied grey. The owl hooted impatiently, ruffling its feathers in irritation.

"Calm down, calm down," muttered Lily.

The owl kicked its foot out of her grasp and took to the air, spiralling back to its perch where it had been comfortably asleep, before Lily had called it to attention. The letter floated downwards and Lily reached out hurriedly to catch it.

"And that," said a frustratingly familiar voice, "is why one should never use a school owl. Am I right, Padfoot?"

"Absolutely, Prongs," came the voice of Sirius Black.

Lily whirled around to face two of the four Marauders, or whatever they called themselves these days.

"In all my years of using school owls," she snapped, "they have all been very well behaved–"

"Apart from, well, that particular one," said James with a grin.

"We're not all stinking rich, Potter," she said. "If school owls are available, why not use them?"

"Because they're not as reliable as personal owls," smirked James. "If you want, though, since I'm so very nice–"

"I don't want to borrow yours, thanks," she said stiffly. "I can manage without you, despite what you think."

"On the contrary, Evans," he said, "my owl is perfectly happy to oblige and she's a great owl, too, a–"

"Lovely that you're finally telling me about your girlfriend, Potter, but I have better things to be doing than chatting to you," she snapped.

Sirius looked impressed by her comment, and chuckled. "Good one, Evans."

Lily felt a rush of pride, though she cast it away instantly.

"You can afford it," said James. "So why don't you just get your own, if you're so against using mine?"

"Because," was all she gave as an explanation.

"Because?" echoed James.

"Because," said Sirius knowledgeably.

Lily peered up into the crowd of school owls, and called for one. One looked sleepily at her with its bright yellow eyes, before unfolding its tawny wings and swooping down towards her. Lily began tying the letter to its foot.

"Is that a love letter to Snivellus, Evans?" snickered James.

"You know," said Sirius, "I bet if we went through Snivelly's diary – come on, James, he's bound to have one tucked away somewhere – there'll be Mrs. Lily Snape written all over it and poems dedicated to her and–"

"I'm right here, Black," snapped Lily. "So I would appreciate it if you didn't talk about my friend."

"Black, now, is it?" sniffed Sirius. "Thought we were friends."

"She calls me Potter!" said James indignantly.

"Well," said Lily, "that's most probably because I don't consider you a friend."

Sirius winced. "You've just broken his heart, Evans."

James seized his chest in mock-death. "Aargh! Save me!"

"This, by far, is the stupidest thing you've ever done to try to impressme," said Lily. Then, turning to her owl, she gave her parents' address and watched it rise into the air, beat its wings once, twice, then catch the breeze, gliding away – as she wished she could – away from James bloody Potter.

"I give it two minutes before it turns in the wrong direction," commented James.

Lily wheeled around and began heading for the exit. "If you don't mind, Potter, I'm going to leave, before I have to stay around and listen to any more of your idiotic quips."

"You know you love it really," he said.

"You know what?" snapped Lily. "I really don't."

As she left, his grin was still plastered across his face, although if Lily had looked at it – really looked at it – she would have seen how it seemed almost forced there.