A/N: Some of you are, justifiably, worried about James's abundance of jerkiness. Well, you're right to do so, and I can only assure you that James is a moody little brat and will be alternatively evil and wonderful. For a while. As for Lily-and-James moments, there are but few in this chapter, but there are some good ones coming up in the infinitely superior next chapter.
Disclaimer: JKR owns your soul. And The Who own your mom's soul. Or something.
Chapter 4- "Snaps and the Second Week"
Or
"Won't Get Fooled Again"
Apparently, three attempted suicides in one day were too many for the Ministry to accept as mere coincidence. Drake was gone, and someone else was brought in—a tall wizard with fair hair and a demeanor that could not have been less Ministry-like had he been Sirius Black himself. His name was Lathe, and James was hanging upside down ten feet in the air the first time that they met.
It started with a cat and a tradition.
Mrs. Norris—Filch's pesky pet—was the cat, and the tradition—instituted by the Marauders—was pretty simple: mess with Mrs. Norris whenever she should appear.
Thus was James occupied in between Defense class and Herbology class on Monday morning, and it only occurred to the young wizard after he had finished levitating Mrs. Norris onto a fourth floor chandelier that Herbology was about to begin.
"Shit," he swore, picking up his book bag and turning towards the stairway immediately.
"What do you mean 'shit?'" asked Remus, who was with him, striving to catch up. "James, what's the matter?"
"N-nothing."
Remus glanced at his watch. "Damn it—we're late, aren't we?" James had no need to respond. The warning bell rang. "Damn it! We are late!" Both boys increased their pace to a sprint.
"This is all your fault, Prongs," Remus informed him, as they reached the Entrance Hall landing. "Why did you have to hang Mrs. Norris from a chandelier, anyway?"
"It's tradition, that's why," said James. They raced through the castle doors, book bags flapping behind them. "God, it's cold out. When did that happen? It was warm this morning!"
"Don't talk about the weather to me, Prongs. I'm angry with you."
"You'll get over it."
"I won't if we get detention!"
The two Gryffindors were so busy arguing and running that, as they rounded the corner of Greenhouse One in pursuit of Greenhouse Two, they did not notice someone standing just around the bend. As a result, James ran headlong into this someone, and Remus ran headlong into James. The three of them fell to the ground.
"You okay, Lupin?" asked James, getting to his feet and offering a hand to Remus. Dusting off his uniform, Remus mumbled something like "I'm fine," and grabbed James's hand. It was not until the two Gryffindors were standing that they noticed the third casualty.
Nicolai Mulciber glared at them. Already on his feet, Nicolai held a flask in one hand and his wand in the other. James completely ignored the wand.
"Seriously? You're drinking behind the Greenhouses? Alone, no less? So cliché."
"You do not want to be fucking with me, Potter," growled Mulciber, brandishing the wand. "After that stunt you pulled... you'll want to be careful."
James rolled his eyes. "Look, Mulciber." He pointed to himself and counted: "One." Then pointing to Remus: "Two. There are two of us, and one of you, and even if there was just half of Lupin here, I'd still put money on him in a fight. So maybe you should be careful, Bricks."
Mulciber looked confused. "Bricks?"
"Mmm, it's what I've decided to call you, on account of all the characteristics you share with a brick. Let's see, you're both inarticulate, non-sentient, and associated with being very heavy."
"Prongs," sighed Remus, but too late.
Mulciber raised his wand, and James drew his own.
"Pordiporsus!" Mulciber cried, as the same time James called out: "Levicorpus!"
The Gryffindor flew back, his body hitting roughly against a tree, while the Slytherin was swooped up into the air and hung there, as though strung up by one ankle. James recovered first, and he noticed that Mulciber had dropped his wand. He grinned.
"Prongs," said Remus, communicating a plethora of other ideas with the single word. He might just as well have reminded James that this was not worth getting in trouble for, or that they were running late to Herbology, or that he was a prefect and therefore obliged to stop it. James nodded. He flicked his wand, and Mulciber began to drop. Before the Slytherin hit the ground, James waved his wand again, and he stopped, about three feet in the air. One last time, James flicked, and Mulciber fell to the ground.
While he recovered, James picked up his book bag that had been dropped and, followed by Remus, started towards the second greenhouse once again.
"Hey, Potter!" Mulciber called after him.
"Please, James," Remus wearily beseeched.
"It's fine, Moony, I won't turn around..."
As it turned out, he had no choice. "Hey, Potter," repeated Mulciber—much closer this time—and James felt a hand lay hold of his shoulder. He was spun around, and before James had any clear idea of what was happening, he felt a sharp, shooting pain in his cheek. Mulciber had punched him, and he went stumbling back.
"How does it taste?" spat Mulciber. James glowered, staggering to maintain balance. While weighing his options, he looked at Mulciber, smug and celebrating in the apparent victory. There was definitely a high road that could—and by definition, ought to—be taken just now. He ought to walk away... turn around and go to Herbology and just let it die. That was the sane, responsible, mature, seventy-four-detention-possessing option.
James lunged forward, hitting Mulciber at the waist and knocking him to the ground.
Apparently, the Slytherin had thought James would be more a high-road sort of taker. Nonetheless, he retaliated quickly with another blow to James's face, though this one had neither the power nor aim of the first, and James rapidly recovered. He knocked the wand that Mulciber endeavored to aim out of his hands and drew his own, struggling to maintain dominance in the fight. Remus stood uncertainly by—he had drawn his wand but was unwilling to attack his friend. Still, when—seemingly out of nowhere—James felt his entire body seize up and pull away, swinging into the air in the same manner that Mulciber's had a moment before, he was certain that Remus had cast the spell. Mulciber was hanging not far away, but it was not Remus pointing his wand at the pair of them, but Donna Shacklebolt.
"Really, you two," she said, her expression stern. "Haven't we already seen this one?"
"Why aren't you in Herbology, Shack?"
"Because I'm not taking it," snapped Donna. "Why aren't you in Herbology?"
"Because I was busy fighting Mulciber," replied James. "Now let me down."
"Let us both down," Mulciber shouted.
"Not until you swear to stop fighting," the witch told them stubbornly. "You're only going to lose Gryffindor more points!"
"Donna!" whined James. "Stop being such a suck up!"
"I am not a..."
"What going on here?" A fair haired wizard of about thirty appeared quite suddenly, and James wondered how he could have failed to see him coming.
Donna started. "Oh, it's just... you see..."
The older wizard gave her a quizzical look, and the young witch at once dropped her feuding classmates.
Thump.
They both groaned. "Thank you," said the other. James stumbled to his feet, and garnered a more thorough exam of the newcomer. An auror's badge was pinned to the collar of his brown robes, and the Quidditch Captain guessed his identity at once. "This is why I didn't want this job," sighed the wizard. "Alright... um—I'm not your teacher, so I'm not going to punish you or anything, but... just... stop. You... girl..." To Donna, "Don't hex people. It's not how you get a bloke's attention."
"Oh, I didn't hex them," Donna answered at once. "You see, they were fighting, so I tried to break them up."
"By hexing them," concluded the other, dryly.
"It was just the 'Levicorpus,'" retorted Donna. "I was trying to help."
"Well, don't," he sighed. "And don't... you know, never mind. I don't know why I am even continuing this debate. Will everyone just go to class?"
"I didn't..." Donna began again, but James cut in.
"Shack, will you be quiet? No one is in trouble."
"Thank-you. Exactly!" said the older wizard. "Just... go to class." They began to comply. "Wait, really quickly..." They paused. "Do any of you know where I can find James Potter?"
Donna's expression was thoroughly indignant, and she said nothing. James and Remus exchanged looks, and Mulciber at once pointed to the Gryffindor in question. "That's him."
"'That's he' would be grammatically correct," James informed him. He turned to the other wizard. "Am I in trouble?"
"No."
"Am I getting out of the next class?"
"Probably."
"Oh. Okay. What do you need?"
"The... the rest of you can go," said the wizard, and they obeyed. When alone, the wizard continued: "My name's Lathe. I work for the Ministry, and I need to ask you some questions."
"You already have my memory of that night," said James suspiciously. "I gave it to McGonagall for pensieve examination."
"Yes," said Lathe, "And I've looked at it. But I'm not well acquainted with you or with Miss Meloni or with any of the students involved. To understand what happened, I need your take... what occurred to you as unusual about certain behaviors or reactions: anything that would seem odd to someone familiar with those involved."
James stared at him. "You're smarter than that Drake witch."
Lathe nodded. "Your book bag is probably smarter than that Drake witch."
(The One Problem)
"I don't know," Marlene Price sighed unhappily, "It seems to me as though you should stay an extra day."
"Marlene," began Adam, "For the sixteenth time: I don't have a scratch on me, and I've been in the Hospital Wing almost six days. I think it is okay for me to leave now."
His friend appeared dissatisfied with this response, as she sat on the corner of his cot on Tuesday afternoon. "But Healer Holloway doesn't even know what happened to you..."
"I've told you; he does." Adam endeavored to sound weary, but in reality it bothered him very, very little that Marlene had been in and out of the Hospital Wing on two hours intervals since Healer Holloway had first determined the patients were allowed visitors. "He said the reason that Carlotta and the Hufflepuff and I all tried to... do something drastic was almost certainly a result of..."
"Accidental exposure to darkly magical objects," Marlene finished for him, "You've told me a hundred times."
"You've asked a hundred times."
"Don't change the subject."
"That was completely on task."
Marlene gave him a look. He was silenced. "All I am saying," the blonde went on, "is that until someone finds out what 'darkly magical object' supposedly seized you all with the unstoppable urge to cut your wrists, jump into a lake, and step off the Astronomy Tower—different methods of suicide, a fact which I, for one, find odd—you shouldn't be allowed to roam the corridors."
"Healer Holloway says that whatever passed through our systems is gone," said Adam, and when Marlene appeared less than satisfied, he added: "I promise not to go to the Astronomy Tower, if that makes you feel better. Interesting observation, about the different methods, though. That is strange."
"Lily pointed it out to me," Marlene admitted. "But I was clever enough to agree with her." She checked the clock on the wall. "I have Transfiguration in a few minutes..." (clearly disappointed). "I'll see you later, yeah?"
"I'm here until six o'clock tonight," Adam assured her.
"Alright, I'll be around at supper." Marlene hesitated. "No, never mind. I've got to meet Miles for supper. He swears I haven't had a meal with him in ages. It's funny how the second I become slightly interested in something else... that is, busy doing other things, he becomes completely enamored of me again." Adam was not terribly amused, but gave a half-hearted attempt at a smile. "I'll see you tonight in the Common Room then, alright?"
"Unless I jump off the Astronomy Tower in the mean time."
"Not funny, McKinnon. Bye." He waved in return. "Bye, Carlotta!" Marlene added, waving to the gorgeous brunette who also retained a cot in the infirmary. She too waved, though a little preoccupied scribbling on a tablet of parchment. "I'll bring you the Transfiguration homework," Marlene added to Adam. He frowned.
"To tell the truth, I'd rather jump off the Astronomy Tower."
"Still not funny."
"See you soon."
"Bye." And despite her claim to the contrary, Marlene departed the Hospital Wing with a slight smile.
(Friends, Exes, and James)
When Donna announced her departure to Arithmancy on Wednesday afternoon, Lily could not say that she was terribly broken up about it. And, when, a few minutes later, Luke kissed her on the top of her red hair and said he had better get to N.E.W.T. Ancient Runes, Lily shed no tears. Alone at last at her table in the library, Lily opened up her favorite Jane Austen novel and prepared for an entire double period of solitude. She loved her friends, of course, and she liked Luke a great deal, but solitude... solitude was nice.
Settling into Mr. Knightley's entrance at Hartfield, Lily even managed to push aside the gentle tugging of her subconscious, reminding her how she had formerly spent free periods with Severus.
Solitude was nice.
"Lily, I need help."
Friends, unfortunately, were more important.
"Alice, what's wrong?"
The redhead set down her book, as Alice Griffiths collapsed into the seat across from Lily, a look of utter despondency on her sweet face.
"Frank."
"Frank?"
"My boyfriend."
"I know who Frank is, dear."
"Well, I need help."
"Circles, dear. We're talking in circles."
Alice collected her thoughts before speaking again. "Something's wrong with Frank. He's been acting so strangely lately, I hardly know him anymore."
Lily patted her friend's hand comfortingly. "Al, I'm sure it's just all these strange things going on right now... Ministry investigators, what happened to Adam and Carlotta... then the additional stress of being Head Boy..."
"It started before that," Alice argued. "There's been something distinctly off about him since he came back from holiday in August. He's been moody and antisocial... he'll get really attached and insist on doing things with me, then once we're together he'll start rows for no reason. Half the time, he just disappears off to his dormitory or for walks, too, and he's been absolutely barking mad about what happened with Carlotta and Adam."
After a moment's thought, Lily sighed: "Well, Al, I don't know how to say this, but I think Frank might be pregnant."
The seventh year tried not to laugh. "This is serious, Lily."
"Alright, being serious. How's his family?"
"I thought of that," replied Alice, "But his brother said everything was fine in that respect. Frank had a lovely time holidaying at the coast, and no one's noticed a thing, but since then, every single time we're together, he's completely unpredictable."
"You two haven't had any real rows, then? I mean, a big one that might've started this whole business?" Alice shook her curly haired head. "You're sure? Then… then you have to look at the symptoms."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if someone's sick, you look at the symptoms to see what's wrong. So, look at his behavior and see what kind of problem that behavior indicates. He's moody, you say, and argumentative."
"Hmm, yes, he just starts bickering about stupid things."
"He's alternatively clingy and antisocial?"
"Spends more time 'walking' then he has in the last four years of our relationship."
Lily nodded. "And he's definitely not pregnant?"
"Lily."
"Alright, well, let me think for a minute." She thought for a minute. Then it struck her towards what end all signs pointed.
Shit.
But, no, this was Frank. Frank Longbottom. This wasn't some jerk; this was Frank.
"What are you thinking, Lily?" Alice pleaded at length. A secure, practical girl, Alice had never appeared so desperate in all of Lily's acquaintance with her. The redhead thought quickly—there were times for honesty and times for charity. The look in Alice's brown eyes told her that this was the latter.
"I don't know, Al. It... it could be anything. I mean, Frank... he loves you, and..."
"He doesn't say it anymore."
Lily blinked. "What?"
"He doesn't say 'I love you' anymore. He hasn't said it in weeks." The seventh year said this very quietly, not meeting Lily's eye.
Shit.
"Alice, Frank does love you. I know it, alright? Trust me, the two of you are about thirty percent of the reason I believe in love at all. Jane Austen is the other seventy percent." Alice smiled. "Whatever he's going through, you can't blame yourself for this."
"But I don't know what to do!"
"Just talk to him."
"I've tried... he won't listen.
"Then be patient," Lily pressed. "Listen, you've been together for a long time... four years is a lengthy relationship by any standards, not just the adolescent norm. And with everything so mixed up at school and in the world, Frank is probably just struggling to... adjust. This is your last year here, after all."
Sadly, Alice nodded.
"If it helps," the sixth year continued, "Professor McGonagall told me she's assigned Frank to monitor my detention on Friday, since he's Head Boy. I'll talk to him then, alright?"
"Could you?"
"Absolutely."
"But don't say I said anything."
"Of course not."
"Don't even think it. And if he guesses, lie to him."
"What are friends for if not to fib for one another?"
"I love you."
"I know."
Rising, Alice hugged Lily briefly, and then—with a final grateful smile—exited the library. Lily frowned down at her novel. It was Frank. Frank couldn't...
She pushed even the thought out of her mind. The library was all but deserted (only the round librarian, Mrs. Sevoy, remained visible), and Lily had to take advantage of this rare solitude before anything else disturbed it.
"Lily, we have to talk."
Friends were more important than solitude, but ex-friends were not.
Without looking up, Lily recognized her newest companion. She said nothing; her breath caught in her throat.
"Lily, please." He leaned forward over the table. "I know you're not reading that book... we have to talk, you know..."
"Sev, stop." Lily closed her book once more. "Severus, stop it, I'm serious, alright?" Mrs. Sevoy glanced over, and Lily sent an apologetic look in her direction. Severus paid no heed.
"Lily, please," he whispered. "You've been avoiding me all week, and..."
"I've been avoiding you," Lily retorted, "because the last time we spoke, people ended up on the Hospital Wing. That gives you a hint at how well we connect at this point, yeah?"
"I can't believe you took the blame for that," Severus muttered, to which Lily rolled her eyes.
"I didn't see you casting any stones."
"I—I was confused... 'couldn't remember which one of you did it. It was... confusing. But it was Potter—you took the blame for Potter, didn't you?"
"Jumped to that conclusion pretty quick, didn't we?" was all Lily said.
"He'd be a big enough git to let you do it," Severus told her. "Lily, you couldn't possibly think that..."
"Get to the point, Sev. I'm trying to read." She hated herself... she hated Sev and his blasted sincerity... she hated the library simply because it functioned as a setting for this stupid scene.
"I—Lily, I want to be friends again. I want us to be mates. I want..."
"No."
"Lily..."
"No."
"But..."
"Severus, I know that you've always made me cave... forgive anything, turn a blind eye to anything, but no. Not anymore."
The Slytherin remained silently seated for a while. Lily pretended to read. "Please, Lily..."
"Go away, Sev." (Softly... she wasn't sure if it was actually what she wanted).
He complied. Lily closed her eyes and waited till she felt alone again. When she once more looked around the library, the exploits of Emma Woodhouse no longer seemed like a sufficient diversion. Lily closed the book and rested her chin in her hands, her elbows propped up on the closed novel.
Severus.
Her stomach twisted itself into knots—knots intricate enough that were they in her shoelaces rather than her stomach, she would probably have had to take a pair of strong shearers to them and buy new laces.
"I can't buy a new stomach," Lily noted, unconsciously verbal.
"Truer words were never spoken."
The redhead jumped three or four inches out of her chair. She looked about frantically. James Potter leaned against a nearby bookcase, crooked smirk in place upon his ("Stupid," thought Lily) face.
"Were you eavesdropping?" she demanded in an undertone, so that Mrs. Sevoy would not snap at them.
"Were you talking to yourself?" countered James. Hands in his pockets, he made no effort to lower his volume while he walked towards the table.
Lily frowned. "Don't you have some puppies to drown or something?"
"Are you advocating animal violence?" retorted the other. Solitude was so very, very much more important than enemies.
"Have I ever supported your extracurriculars?" said Lily. "And please don't s..." James took the other chair at the table: "...sit down," finished the redhead with a sigh. "Please, Potter, don't you have anything better to do?"
"Not really. 'Finished all my homework already. So you and Snivellus are friends again, I see."
"Do you?" was her only reply. She kind of liked the fact that this possibility clearly irritated him.
"Well, aren't you?" He tried to appear apathetic, but did not pull it off as well as he had on other occasions. Lily reopened her book.
"But you've already concluded that we are, and you're never wrong, James."
"I don't care one way or the other."
"Evidently."
"I was simply bored, and you can't help but broadcast your personal life all over the library, that's all."
"Well, I would never have suspected that you'd be in the library to see it. Tell me, when did you learn how to read?"
"That's a little mean," James told her blithely.
Lily blinked. Was it? "I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. Her companion gave her a strange look that she could not interpret. At length, his mouth returned to its semi-arrogant smile, and he raised his eyebrows.
"Relax, Snaps. It's not as though I give a damn."
"No, of course not. Why would the great James Potter care that... what did you call me?"
His smirk broadened to a full-out grin while James rose from the table. Without responding to the question, he merely waved and said: "See you around, Snaps." There was triumph in his steps as he walked away.
Snaps.
Snaps?
...
What?
(Kevin Sherbatsky's Hair)
"I'm bored," James announced at dinner on Thursday
The three Marauders who accompanied him at said meal sent the Quidditch Captain and de facto leader confused looks. "How can you be bored?" asked Peter, disbelievingly. "We're not even two weeks into school, and we've already had a massive brawl, three attempted suicides, two Ministry investigators, a swarm of other aurors questioning everything that moves, and—in your case—at least two major arguments with Lily Evans and two duels with Nicolai Mulciber."
"Most of that occurred last week," replied James. "The Mulciber bit the other day barely reached dangerous, and there's nothing terribly mesmerizing about a few Ministry stiffs. What's happened today? Nothing. Kevin Sherbatsky's hair had a trimming, maybe, but really, I think that's it."
Sirius set down his fork. "You noticed that too? Thank Merlin, I thought I'd gone completely mental for noticing something like that."
"Don't discount the completely mental theory just yet," Remus put in.
"Something needs to happen," James continued. "Something good. The whole... depressing scene... mediocre scores in Potions, people having a go at themselves, massive brawls in the Entrance hall—it's... depressing."
"Does this mean you're going to quit the troubled Bob Dylan routine?" asked Remus hopefully. Peter began to inquire about the reference, but thought better of it and kept his mouth closed.
"If you're attempting to insult me, you probably shouldn't compare me to a complete badass, Moony," said Prongs coolly. "And no. Something else..." Chewing on a potato, James cast his eyes about the Hall for inspiration. It hit him as he eyed the Hufflepuff table. "Do you know what I hate?" he asked.
"Rhetorical questions?" offered Sirius.
"Kevin Sherbatsky's hair," said James. The other Marauders were quiet, uncertain of where this was headed. It was Padfoot that caught on first. He grinned at his best friend.
"Prongs, mate, I haven't had a detention in... ages, it seems."
"Detention, Mr. Black, this Friday," Professor McGonagall reprimanded the young wizard, as he stood in her office with some vague imitation of remorse. "And you will undoubtedly be glad to know that almost all of Mr. Sherbatsky's hair has been restored."
"Does it look any better?"
"Black."
"I'm sorry, Professor," sighed Sirius. "I was just trying to help. Who wouldn't stand to gain from just wiping off all the prat's ha... I mean, giving that dear sweet boy a new chance at... hair. His first try obviously failed."
"I thought you said it was an accident."
"It was. A lucky accident. Fate works in funny ways sometimes, Professor."
"Detention on Friday, Black."
"Right you are, Professor. You look lovely tonight, by the way."
"Out of my office, Black."
"If you insist."
James was waiting outside the door for him. Sirius grinned. "Detention tomorrow," the latter told him, before the former could even ask.
"And was it worth it?" asked the Quidditch Captain, as they started back towards Gryffindor tower.
"Oh, one hundred and ten percent," Sirius assured him. "I can't believe it took him ten minutes to realize that all that abominable hair on his weirdly shaped head was missing."
James grinned. "Why haven't we done anything like this in so long?"
"Because we were on summer holiday and Kevin Sherbatsky's hair wasn't around," said Sirius. "Oh, and because you were in a dreadful mood."
"I had a good excuse."
Sirius looked at him. "Which one—rescuing Carlotta Meloni, Lily Evans being... Lily Evans, or your old man?"
James stopped dead in his tracks, while Sirius continued on. "You knew? About Dad..."
"Prongs, subtlety does not run in your family, and I've been living with you for two months. Of course I knew." James caught up with him, as Sirius began to explain: "I mean, realistically, did you expect me to believe the fairytale your Mum barely managed to choke out at the breakfast table, about him going on a business trip—which conveniently lasted till after we had to go back to school? And, there's the fact that the only pictures of him in the house remaining by the end of the day were the ones featuring you."
"Why didn't you tell me you knew?" James demanded.
"Why didn't you confide in me?"
"Because I'm not a girl. And I asked you first. Why didn't you tell me that you knew?"
"Because you're... you," said Sirius. "And anyway, I hate serious discussions. If you make that a pun, I will slaughter you in your sleep tonight."
"Duly noted. I can't believe you knew and continued to let me lie to you for him."
"It was somewhat amusing, actually."
"Git." James changed tactics. "Anyway, you were completely wrong."
"About what?"
"About what's put me in a bad mood."
"It wasn't Carlotta, Evans, or your old man?"
"Nope."
"What, then?"
"The fact that you moved in with us."
"Git." They reached Gryffindor Common Room. "You know," Sirius continued, before they had given the password to enter; "I feel sort of... short-changed."
"What do you mean?"
"I only got one detention, and I still need another ten to even be in danger of the seventy-five rule. How did that happen, anyway?"
"I've been thinking about it," James replied, "and I think I've figured it out. Remember that... little incident some years ago... the cake, the house elves, Professor Stottlemeyer's treasured cactus..."
Sirius grinned nostalgically. "That was a nice day."
"Well, I took all the blame and had two months of weekend detentions. That's sixteen in total."
"That would follow," agreed the other. "I still feel short-changed, though."
James arched an eyebrow. "Do you want to go back and ask McGonagall for another detention?"
"No, but... er... I hear they've more or less restored Kevin Sherbatsky's hair."
Catching on, Prongs began to grin. "Is that so? God, it seems like such a shame, after the trouble we went through vanishing it."
"My thought's exactly, Prongs."
"I reckon he's down, finishing the dinner that was interrupted by now, Padfoot."
"That would be my guess as well, Prongs."
James bowed. "Shall we, Padfoot?"
"It would be a pleasure, Prongs."
(The Remains of the Day)
"He vanished Kevin Sherbatsky's hair twice?" Lily echoed, half-laughing. She checked herself. "That's awful. Really awful. Funny, yes, but awful."
Frank Longbottom nodded in agreement. "Anyway, that's what Sirius Black is in detention for, believe it or not. He seems to be running late, though."
It was true. At a quarter to eight, Sirius was some fifteen minutes late for his detention in the trophy room. Lily arrived promptly, of course (two minutes early, actually), and Frank had been waiting, dust rag in hand, for she was supposed to be polishing trophies without magic. "Of course," Frank had added, "I'm not terribly bright, so I'm sure I wouldn't notice if you bewitched a rag or four to get started on the other end of the room."
Fifteen minutes later, there was significantly more talking than polishing. As the subject of Sirius's detention died, Lily turned away and made a mimic of dusting a Quidditch trophy from 1952. "Listen, Frank," she began slowly, "I've been meaning to ask you something..."
"Go for it," replied the Head Boy, who was snacking on an apple, while seated at a bench near the Prefects' plaques.
"Well, it's about Alice." He said nothing, so she went on: "There's... there's been something off about her lately. You've noticed, yeah?"
"I—er... to tell the truth, I can't say that I have."
"Well, it's just that... that's she's been looking so pale, and she's seemed so weary, you know? Anyway, she spoke to me the other day and mentioned that the two of you have been bickering... God, I hope this isn't prying, I just wanted to make sure everything was all right with you." She looked over her shoulder to face the Head Boy, but he denied eye contact, focusing on the apple in his hand instead.
"Everyone bickers," he replied, distantly and after several seconds. "And Alice and I have been together for a long time. That's just the way it goes..."
Lily felt a weight lift from her shoulders, realizing for the first time that such a weight existed at all. "You know, that's exactly what I told Alice. I mean, she has nothing to fret about... you two have always been so solid and... I mean, God, you're my proof that relationships last. How would I argue with Donna if the two of you called it off?" She smiled, until she noticed that Frank was not.
"Just... just because a couple has history doesn't mean that they're going to be together forever."
Lily's heart sunk. She wanted to scream at him that he and Alice did have to stay together forever... that it was fate and destiny and providence and all those other nice, but decidedly vague concepts. Instead, the prefect bit her lip and her tongue.
"Alice and I," Frank continued, "have been good together for a long time, but this is our last year at Hogwarts and... well, I'm probably going to become an auror, and Alice..."
"But I thought Alice wanted to go into the auror department, too," Lily interrupted. "She had that internship over the holidays, and I know that she really enjoyed it."
Frank hesitated. "Well... nothing... nothing is certain," he imprecisely replied at last. "There's so much going on... so much is changing... nothing's really certain anymore. Right? It's just that..."
"Well, I'm here." Sirius Black announced his presence as he stepped into the trophy room. "You're welcome."
"You're..." Frank cleared his throat uncomfortably, "You're late, Sirius."
"Are you going to tell Professor McGonagall?" The Marauder wanted to know.
"No."
"Frank, mate, you're the greatest Head Boy that ever was and ever will be." Sirius grabbed a dust rag. "And how are you, Lily?"
The prefect, temporarily thrown, tried to think of something she might have to discuss with the new arrival. "I'm fine. Hey, Black, can you tell me what in God's name Potter's new nickname means? Why does he keep calling me 'Snaps?'"
Sirius grinned. "I haven't the faintest, dear," he replied. "Lord only knows what transpires in James's id. 'Course I'll be ecstatic to relay the message that you're curious. He's been a touch petulant lately, since you've been so stubbornly nonchalant about his game."
"Don't tell him," Lily pleaded. "He'll be so smug. You won't, will you?"
"I'll think about it." His handsome smile remained mischievous, and the room grew quiet. "So... what were you all talking about before I arrived?" The Marauder asked, quite innocently. Lily looked at Frank.
"Er... I heard you vanished Kevin Sherbatsky's hair," she managed to say.
Sirius nodded solemnly. "Twice."
(Someone to Give Notice)
Lathe's office was small and cramped, a room given to him in haste so that he could begin his tasks as quickly as possible. With the large, plain desk, two chairs, four black-clad aurors, and Lathe himself—listing off orders for the other four—the room seemed smaller still. Small and busy. Even the walls exuded the same preoccupation and commotion as the actors within them, so that Lily—seated in the chair provided for her—felt she must be the only stationary item in the office. She waited quietly for Lathe to return his attention to her and explain what her role in this drama might be.
At length, the other aurors departed in order to carry out Lathe's requests, and the wizard sat down on his end of the desk.
"Lily Evans, is it?" he asked, glancing at a slip of parchment. Lily nodded. "I'm sorry it's taken me this long to get around to your questioning."
"This is about Carlotta, isn't it?" asked Lily.
"Hmm, yes." He flicked through some papers. "You've already submitted your memory of the morning of September second for pensieve review, I believe."
"That's right."
"Well, then I just have a few more questions." He set aside his papers. "Tell me every single detail you know about Carlotta Meloni."
Lily blinked. "Every detail? No offense, Mr. Lathe, but—I don't know Carlotta nearly as well as other girls or... boys... do. Shelley Mumps..."
"Michelle Mumps has given her testimony," Lathe told her. "She was, unfortunately, hysterical. I wanted to talk to someone who I thought would be capable of connecting words... you're a prefect and were directly involved with the incident; you also share a dorm with Miss Meloni. You were the logical selection."
"Oh."
"Additionally," he went on, keeping his tone eternally business-like and yet with a touch of inexplicable irony, "I read the detention report on your altercation with a boy called... Mulciber." Lily averted her eyes. "Did you really punch him?"
"That's... that's what they say."
"Hmm... Well, I met Mulciber. Twice, actually. Once unwittingly and once to question him. He was a witness to the girl who jumped into the lake." Lily awaited verdict. In an even, non-indulgent and non-amused voice, he said: "I would've punched him too."
Lily tried not to smile; she wasn't entirely certain whether or not she ought to fear Lathe. "Now," the auror continued, "I need details. Anything you can think of... anything odd that occurred that morning or the night before... any strange conversation with Miss Meloni..."
"Well," began Lily, "Carlotta didn't come back to the dorm, that night... not that we could tell, anyway. She wasn't there when the rest of went to sleep, and Shelley said that she woke up in the middle of the night, and Carlotta's bed was all made up. But... you probably knew that already...?" Lathe nodded. "And... er... as for Carlotta, she... she's nice, I suppose. We're not great friends, but we've always gotten on well. She's... sort of... er… modern? You know... that's why we weren't that shocked when she didn't come back to the dormitory that night. Do you see what I...?"
"Right, yes."
"And... she's... she..." Lily searched her brain for some information on Carlotta, but only trivial things seemed to come to mind. "She meditates every morning. She likes to sleep in on weekends. She... drinks green tea. She's a vegetarian. She..."
"A vegetarian?" Lathe interrupted suddenly.
"She doesn't eat meat."
"I'm aware of the word's meaning," replied the other. "It's simply that I've conducted five other character interviews on Miss Meloni, and not one of the others has mentioned that she is a vegetarian." He scribbled something on a slip of parchment.
"Is it important?" asked Lily.
"Oh, I have no clue." He shrugged. "Is there anything else?"
Lily shook her head. "Not really. I spoke with her briefly on the train that day. She was... fine. Normal. Just... Carlotta."
Lathe was quiet for a time, before asking: "What can you tell me about Adam McKinnon?"
"He's Keeper for our Quidditch team," replied Lily. "And he... er... well, I can't really think of anything relevant."
"Would you have guessed that Carlotta's vegetarianism was relevant?" Lily admitted that she wouldn't. "Well, then...?"
"It's about what girl he fancies," elaborated the redhead. "I'm pretty sure that's not relevant."
Lathe shook his head. "No, that's not relevant," he agreed. "Nothing else?"
Lily thought carefully. "Well, Adam had been missing for a few hours before... well, before he tried to jump off the Astronomy Tower. I know that much, because my friend Marlene said that he didn't show up for Care of Magical Creatures class after lunch." Lathe scribbled something on another slip of parchment. "Besides that, I can't really think of anything."
"Alright. Thank-you. I suppose you can leave now... I won't waste anymore of your Saturday evening." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully with one finger, while staring at the page before him. "If you think of anything else, just write it down and paste it to my door."
"Right, of course." Lily got up from her chair.
"And if you could send in the next student..." Lathe added, with a nod towards the door, on the other side of which a number of would-be witnesses awaited their own questioning.
"Absolutely."
She stepped outside. At the front of the short queue, a thin Hufflepuff boy with mousy brown hair and large eyes stood, nervously cracking his knuckles as he waited for what he seemed to believe would be a sentencing ceremony.
"I think you're next," Lily told him encouragingly. "Don't worry. He's nice."
"Honestly?" asked the Hufflepuff. "'Cause I heard Donna Shacklebolt talking about him in the Library yesterday, and she said some terrible things."
"Donna Shacklebolt would have terrible things to say about Santa Claus," Lily remarked, patting him on the shoulder. He smiled weakly. "Just go in. It'll be fine." He complied, and Lily started back towards the Common Room.
(The Other Problem)
Laughing, Marlene pulled away just long enough to ask: "Miles, what time is it?"
It was Saturday night, and the pair stood in the fourth floor corridor, Marlene against the wall and Miles showering his girlfriend with kisses. "I don't know—does it matter?"
"Miles, please," argued the other, smiling nonetheless. "I have to go at seven o'clock. What time is it?" He was too busy to reply, however, and Marlene grabbed his wrist to check the time herself.
"Shit," she swore, pulling away again. "Miles, it's quarter to eight."
"C'mon Marly," sighed the Ravenclaw, stroking her arm. "You can be a little late for your... studying appointment." This he said with great distaste.
"I can't," protested Marlene. "I've stood up my friends too many times this week already. You've been so touchy lately..."
"I haven't been touchy," replied Miles touchily. "I've been perfectly nice, haven't I? Have I said one mean thing, or..."
"Not touchy like that," interrupted the Gryffindor. "Touchy like with your hands." Wrapping her arms around his neck, Marlene gave him what she thoroughly intended to be a goodbye kiss. "Alright, now you be good, and I'll see you tomorrow."
Miles slipped his arms around her back. "But, Marly, you can study with me. C'mon, we'll go to the Library and everything."
"Right, because it's definitely studying that you've got on your mind, isn't it?" Marlene smiled, pushing a stray lock of hair behind one ear. "Miles, please, I've got to..."
"But, Marly, curfew's coming soon anyway. You'll have to go to the Common Room then, and I won't be able to see you at all. You can study with your friends, then..."
"But..."
"And besides, I'm your boyfriend... your boyfriend for two whole years..."
He gave her the most pleading expression Marlene thought she'd ever seen him wear before, and she relented. "Just half an hour more, alright?"
Smiling, ear to ear, he kissed her again.
(In the Common Room)
The Gryffindor Common Room was crowded that night. The fire blazed, and with both Carlotta and Adam returned to their dormitories, it at last seemed permissible to laugh out loud. Thus, most of Gryffindor house had gathered in the Common Room, and everything—it seemed—had returned to normal.
Chess tournaments, Gobstones games, and intense rounds of Exploding Snap abounded throughout the room, everyone chatting loudly—for once about completely normal adolescent things. It was to this scene that James arrived, coming from the dormitory where Remus currently rested, for he was feeling ill. The Quidditch Captain gave the room a once-over in search of some character of interest. Sirius, Peter, and Lily were all absent, but Adam McKinnon sat in a chair by the fire, with a scroll of parchment and his Potions book.
James took a seat nearby. "Working on an essay on a Saturday night, McKinnon?" he asked, running a hand though his messy black hair. "Careful, there, too much excitement isn't healthy."
"Funny," replied Adam. "I don't see you hanging from any chandeliers."
"My mates have deserted me," James told him. "So, are you... y'know... feeling alright? No more suicidal urges?"
Adam looked at him. "Tact isn't your thing, is it?"
"'Fraid not."
The other shrugged. "Well, I'm alright. You know, just getting used to the fact that second years point at me when they pass in the corridors."
"Mmmm, people point at me too," sighed James. "But for entirely different reasons. A nice quick Levicorpus would put an end to it."
"Yes," said Adam dryly, "Because that's worked out so well for you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Mean? Oh, nothing."
James raised his eyebrows. "What about you, McKinnon? Studying alone? Isn't Marlene Price your usual study partner? I wonder where she's got to..." He looked about the Common Room as if in search.
"I have no idea where Marlene is," Adam answered firmly.
"Don't you?" muttered James.
"What?"
"What?"
Adam frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Mean? Oh, nothing." The two boys looked at each other for a moment. "I'm going to let you get back to that essay," James said at last, rising.
"Good luck finding your mates," said Adam.
With a nod, James departed the sofa. Shortly thereafter, the portrait hole opened and Marlene Price commandeered his former seat. She was apologizing profusely for something, but Adam bore no traces of resentment. James shook his head knowingly and was considering conning some fifth years out of a few galleons playing Exploding Snap, when someone tapped his shoulder.
"Hi, Alice."
"Hi, James," replied Alice Griffiths, looking somewhat frazzled. "Have you seen Frank anywhere?" The Quidditch Captain told her he had not. "Shoot. Well, thanks anyway. Maybe he had a prefect meeting or something..."
James would have told her that there was no prefect meeting scheduled for that night (Remus almost never missed prefects meetings, no matter how ill he felt), but he had no chance to do so, as she hurried away immediately. She disappeared out the portrait hole, and it had not yet closed behind her when Sirius slipped through into the Common Room.
"About time," said James, going over to his friend. "Where in God's name did you go?"
"Tea," replied Sirius.
"It's a little late, isn't it?"
"With Uncle A."
"Uncle A?" echoed James. "That's stupid." Then, the humor of the situation stuck him. "Do you realize, you've just had tea with a teacher? You're practically an attention-starved prefect now. I reckon they'll make you Head Boy next year!"
"Sod off, Potter. He's not a real teacher; he's my uncle." They took seats in the closest approximation to a corner that the circular room possessed. "He's practically my only sane relative, you know. I ought to represent every once in a while."
James grinned, which Sirius interpreted as mocking and responded to with a slap on the back of the head.
They sat, conversing about whatever came to mind for a while, before Peter Pettigrew arrived—via the kitchens—and took a seat with them. "How were the house elves, then?" asked Sirius. "And what did you bring us?"
Peter handed over a tray of desert left-overs. "They didn't have anything left from the Welcoming Feast," he informed Sirius. "Though I don't know why you'd want eleven-day-old food."
"The Welcoming Feast food is superior, that's why," replied Mr. Padfoot. "They order half of the pieces specially made from Hogsmeade, you know."
"No, we didn't know," said James. "And we're kind of frightened that you did."
"I pay attention to what I eat," Sirius said indignantly. "Don't hate me for my enhanced knowledge."
Lily returned to the Common Room from an evening walk with Mary and Donna at about half past eight. Less restful than agitating, the majority of the walk had been an argument between Lily and Donna concerning the auror Lathe.
"He's not bad!" Lily protested. "Poppyfield," she added to the Fat Lady, who swung her portrait forward in response to the correct password, allowing the three witches entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "He was intelligent and easy-going. I liked him."
"He was rude," replied Donna. "He kept saying that I..."
"You just can't take criticism," Mary interjected. "It's true, Don, because you usually do everything perfectly so if anyone dares to make a correction, you form a grudge. It's probably why you dislike Professor Slughorn."
"I can take correction," snapped the other. "How else would I tolerate hanging out with you all the time, Macdonald? You're always picking on me."
"Please," scoffed Mary. "In the last ten minutes, you've told me my cosmetics make me look like a professional tart, my taste in men encourages that theory, and these shoes are unflattering for my legs. I'm always picking on you?"
"I said the make up made you look like a professional tart," said Donna. "Not that you actually were. That's scarcely mean at all."
Lily steered them all towards the fireplace, but the number of students in the Common Room at the moment made seating unavailable. "You see, Donna," said the redhead, "this is what I was trying to tell you the other morning. You don't have to win every single conversation."
"I'm just defending myself."
"No, you're turning it into an argument. Like Potter always does, right? He takes a simple thing like a greeting and turns it into a competition... by giving a stupid nickname that he knows you won't be able to figure out, but won't be able to ask him about because that means he wins... because he made it a competition."
"We're not talking about me anymore, are we?" asked Donna.
"Sometimes," Lily reiterated, "you have to let things go."
Donna scowled. "But winning is so... nice."
Lily nodded and patted her friend on the shoulder sympathetically.
"Hey, Snaps," said a new voice, and Potter appeared with it. He grinned cheerfully at her, as though they were the best of friends. "Had a good day, did you?"
"I'm not going to ask," said Lily coldly. "Sorry, Potter, you lose, because I don't care what your stupid little nickname means." She really tried to mean it.
"Are you sure, Snaps?"
"Yes."
"Because you say I just lost, but it feels an awful lot like winning. Especially since you asked Sirius to tell you what it meant."
Lily scowled at Black. "You said you wouldn't tell."
"I said I'd think about it," replied Sirius defensively. "And it's a force of habit telling James everything... it just sort of slipped out. He looked so joyful when I told him... like a little tyke at Christmas."
James punched his friend in the shoulder.
"I'm going to bed," Lily announced, ignoring the fact that it was not yet nine o'clock. "Good night, all." She started to leave.
"That's sort of rude," James observed.
"Well, every time I'm polite to you, you're a complete prat," retorted the redhead. "I've resolved not to be fooled by the hope that maybe, this time, you'll actually wear a display of humanity."
Unfazed, James nodded sagely: "Good idea, Snaps."
Sirius sighed and turned to Peter: "This could go on indefinitely—care to join me in conning some fifth years out of a few galleons?"
"Exploding Snap?" asked Peter, brightening up.
"Of course."
"You lot know how to cheat at Exploding Snap?" asked Donna, clearly awed. Sirius nodded.
"Can we join?" asked Mary.
"If you think you can tear yourselves away from this intriguing entertainment." Sirius nodded towards the still bickering James and Lily.
"We'll manage."
The four of them departed, but neither James nor Lily took notice of the fact. "Oh please," the latter was scoffing. "Can you just... for the shortest of seconds, pretend that your unbelievably massive ego will allow the infinitesimally small brain in your head to wrap around the concept that the vastness of the universe does not, contrary to your appallingly apparent belief, revolve around you?"
"God, Snaps, I don't need your life story! What is it they say about brevity and wit?"
"Don't quote Shakespeare at me." (As though he had blasphemed) "You're not allowed to quote Shakespeare at me. I own Shakespeare... you're just a posing git."
"I don't even know what Shakespeare is. What is your problem, anyway?"
"Mostly? Mostly it's just you, actually, Potter!"
"The extent of your self-righteousness never fails to amaze and bewilder me, Snaps."
"The ABCs never fail to amaze and bewilder you."
"Oh, I'm sorry... what did you get on your O.W.L.s again? Was it... seven O's? Wait. No. That was me."
"My Merlin, really? I don't think you told anyone yet... except for once every ten minutes since you stepped onto the platform!"
"Funny." He smirked. "At least I have something to brag about."
Lily exhaled heavily. "This is stupid," she said at length. "I'm not doing this anymore. I'm not fighting with you. I'm not talking with you. I'm ignoring you. Everyone will be so much better off if we just don't interact."
"Fine with me, Snaps."
With a final glare, Lily turned on her heel and started up to her dormitory. She stopped before reaching the stairway.
Snaps.
Turning once again to face Potter, Lily now had a smile on her face. James did not know why, but it was a little intimidating (somewhat fantastic, too). She walked back towards him. "Gingersnaps," she said. He blinked. "Gingersnaps... ginger-biscuits... the desert." She pointed to her hair. "Ginger. Snaps." Sarcastically: "Clever."
James began to grin. "Bravo."
"Working out the recesses of your brain really is simple," Lily noted, faux sweet. "I should've known it involved food." She turned and once again made her way towards her dormitory, reminding herself to tell Donna later on that she had been right.
Winning was nice.
A/N: not my favorite, but rather significant in the long run. I'd feel guilty for the mediocrity, but I've already started on the next chapter and some parts of it make me so happy that I'm sure you will be compensated.
Love to the anonymous reviewers: Great! (thank-you... you're great! Ha ha ha that was funny. No. It wasn't. I'm sorry. I'll shut up.), underbabe (glad you're enjoying... not too much Lily-James "moments" here, but I can guarantee some in the next chapter), Queen Moanna (so glad! Yes, someone needs to smack James... he'll come to his senses eventually), and anon (thanks, will do).
Reviews keep the doctor away.
Love and cookies,
Jewels