Location: Heads' Dorm Common Room

WEEK SIX of 7th YEAR

I loved Quidditch, but not for the reasons you're probably thinking. Don't get me wrong, I did highly enjoy the games. I loved screaming for my team and making a fool out of myself. I didn't really care about any professional leagues, but I was willing to show house spirit when the time came.

But no, I loved Quidditch because of what it did to James.

It made him so happy. Beyond what I, Sirius, Remus, praise, cake, or anything else could do, it made him truly content. Be it practice or a game, he always had a bounce in his step and a smile on his face before and after getting on the field. Since we lived together in the head's dorm, it was important that I knew what times he was at his best. And for James, it was always after Quidditch. I suppose if he had a terrible team this might have been a different matter altogether, but his team had won the cup for four years running. He was a brilliant player and a strong captain, and always seemed confident coming out of practice and into games.

He was at Quidditch practice this particular night, and I was working on a Transfiguration essay, which was taking an unnervingly and obnoxiously long amount of time. It's not that I didn't understand the class. I just had a difficult time concentrating in absolute silence, as I had gotten used to roommates meandering around for the past six years. I could have gone to the library, but the increase in volume would have been minimal. I suppose I could have gone to the Gryffindor common room, which was sure to be noisy, but it would be more effort than it was worth to move all my materials. So, I stayed put and endured what most would consider peace. Finally, when the silence had assaulted my ears for almost an hour, I decided to turn on my radio. It was a wizard radio, and I knew almost none of the songs, but it was worth it to have some background noise. I was humming along to some unknown lyrics when I heard the door slam behind me. I turned, and James was standing there with a large smile, a broomstick, and his incredibly sweaty self.

"Hey, James!" I smiled as he walked over to me. "How was practice?"

"Good. How has your night been?" I gave him an odd look as he settled in a arm chair across from me.

"It's been fine. Since when is practice ever 'good'? Normally it's a twenty minute long speech about prospects, and chances, etc."

"Ah, I have been recently informed that girls' do not indeed care what my Quidditch team has been trying at a practice. I will spare you."

Haley. Of course. Only she would take something James adored and was passionate about and make it wrong. Only she would not allow him to talk about his interests.

"James, seriously, you can talk about it."

"I don't want to bore you."

"James. Tell me about practice."

"You're just being nice. It really isn't necessary." I rolled my eyes.

"James, I want to know. It's important to you, and thus, it is important to me. Go. Talk." He smiled.

"Thanks, Lily." He then proceeded to launch into a detailed play by play of the entire practice, complete with theoretical meanings for the next game and their chances for the entire season. I cared less about what he was saying and more about how glad he was that he was saying it. How did she not like to see him so excited?

"Anyway," he said, once he had finished. "What have you been up to?"

"I was just writing McGonagall's essay and listening to the radio. Nothing exciting, I assure you."

"Do you want me to take a look at your essay?"

"Yes, PLEASE." I said enthusiastically. James was exceptional at Transfiguration, and infuriatingly good at essays. He had a way of saying absolutely nothing, but making it sound like a two hundred year old scholar. He pushed himself up from his chair and walked over to the table I was sitting at. As he leaned over me, I could smell the sweat and dirt radiating from his body. I wasn't entirely sure when that had stopped being gross and started being extremely attractive in my mind, but I attempted to ignore it nevertheless. Hormones wouldn't due me any good where he was concerned, anyway.

"Lily, you're going to have to start all over." He said solemnly. I had spent the last several minutes lost in my thoughts, and hadn't noticed him reading my essay with a slight frown. I quickly looked up at him, a little frenzied at the thought of having to redo all of my work.

"What? Please, no." I said, looking into his face. While his face was somber, there was a laugh in his eyes. I rolled my eyes and hit him in the shoulder. He laughed.

"Idiot. You had me worried. I've worked on this for hours."

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. It's actually fine. You really just need a conclusion, which I'd be happy to write for you and transfigure into your handwriting."

"You would do that?"

"You listened to me talk about Quidditch for thirty minutes. I'd do anything for you." I ignored the butterflies that arose in my stomach, and answered him as normally as possible.

"As head students, we really shouldn't be cheating, you know."

"You don't want the help?"

"Did I say that?" He laughed before taking the quill from my hand. He drew up a chair next to me, pulled my paper over to him, and began his work. For a few moments it was completely silent sans the scratching of the quill and the quiet sounds of the radio. I took the time to watch him write. I was always amazed at how well he could write. For someone who wasted as much time as he did in class, I would expect him to be an utter failure at explanations. Somehow, though, he managed not to only get superior looks and athletic skills, but he was also blessed with a brain to go along with it. How was that fair to the rest of the population?

He suddenly looked up at me, and I started, for a wild second thinking he guessed my thoughts. Instead, he said "Do you like this band?"

Thrown for a second, I gathered my wits before answering. I listened for a second to the song, and I realized that I had never heard it before.

"I have no idea. I've never heard them."

"Well, what do you think of this song?" I listened for another few seconds before responding.

"I like it a lot. Why?"

"It's my favorite band."

"Really? They're great! Have you ever seen them in person?"

"Nah. I was going to, but Sirius needed me that day, so I had to skip it." He went back to work, and I felt a huge rush of affection towards him.

"I'm sure you'll get a chance to see them again. They must be popular." I began drumming on the table in beat with it, which made the ink splatter everywhere. I ignored it; I could clean it later. James smiled at me.

"I'm glad you like them. Haley hates them. She's says they're too loud." I snorted and he looked up at me.

"Seriously? It's not like they're screaming or anything. What does she like, love ballads?"

"Yeah. I sometimes seriously question why we're together." He joked. Out loud, I laughed along with him. Inwardly, I was silently asking the same question.