A/N: the beginning is a little Grey's Anatomy, but bear with me...

Disclaimer: I own nothing. For the purpose of this disclaimer, I am impoverished.

Chapter 6- Conversations

Or

"Shake, Rattle, and Roll"

Interpersonal relationships are primarily comprised of moments and of conversations. Moments are the quiet, indescribable little things that mean something beyond their ostensible substance. Conversations are the meat: the majority of the day... the way in which one deceives another, or the way they clue someone in (because moments do not lie, but they can be difficult to read).

Conversations are a method by which information is delivered between parties. Conversations are sources of rumors and facts, lies and truths, good news and bad news. Conversations can fend off the dangers of miscommunication and misread signals. Conversations can solve problems that mere action cannot hope to resolve. Conversations can save relationships, end arguments, and—it's been said—rein in violence.

There are, however, some conversations that one wishes he or she never held at all.

(The Lie)

Secrecy was not one of Carlotta Meloni's defining characteristics. She tried to maintain a very open personality, suffering no embarrassment over discussions that made other girls blush. Carlotta did not believe in dishonesty, and lies were not her style, so when she found herself relating a markedly false story to her best friend Shelley one Saturday morning in late October, guilt plagued the beautiful brunette.

"Alright, so I'm going to the library," Carlotta told her friend, gathering her things. "I've just got to finish the Potions essay, and then I'll meet you for lunch."

"Are you sure you don't want help on the essay?" asked Shelley, painstakingly applying mascara in the mirror of the girls' dormitory.

But Carlotta had thought of that. She had specifically chosen potions homework as an alibi, because it was a well-known fact that Shelley had very little sense for potions. "Really, Shelley, what good would that be?"

"Good point," agreed the plainer witch. "I'll see you at noon, then?"

"Perfect."

Smiling, but feeling guiltier and guiltier with every passing second, Carlotta picked up her book bag and, turning, departed the dormitory. She moved across the Common Room, through the corridors, and down the staircases, but did not stop on the fourth floor, as a trip to the library would necessitate. Rather, she continued down to the second floor, where there was a very nice unused classroom that was almost always empty. Carlotta went inside and waited.

She waited and waited for over an hour, checking her watch every few minutes. He'd said ten o'clock. He'd said ten o'clock, hadn't he?

She waited till eleven twenty four. He didn't show.

(The Disagreement)

"We've got to, Prongs." Sirius clapped his friend on the shoulder, assuming a brave expression. "Just do it, alright? Just... just go for it."

James frowned. "I can't, Padfoot. They can't really make us, can they?"

"No," began Sirius slowly. "But if we don't, you realize that we won't have a Quidditch team, right?"

"Technically, perhaps not. But you know, I think we have a great group this year. Maybe, since the Chasers are so fantastic, we won't even need a Keeper this year, so McKinnon could just play Seeker instead."

"We need seven players, Prongs. You're in denial."

"Tryouts are terrible."

"I know, but we have to do it."

"But I don't want to."

"Do you want me to quote the Rolling Stones, or are you just gonna post it already?"

James sighed. Pulling a tack off the Gryffindor Common Room notice board, the Quidditch Captain placed a slip of parchment squarely in the center of the board and pushed the tack through the top.

QUIDDITCH TRYOUTS

THIS SUNDAY, 9 A.M.

GRYFFINDOR, 2ND-7TH YEARS ONLY

"How many first year Hufflepuffs do you reckon will show up?" Sirius wondered.

"Oh, at least six," sighed James wearily. "C'mon. Let's get to breakfast. Looking at this just depresses me."

Sirius left the Common Room with him, but said as they started down the corridor: "I'm not going to breakfast with you, actually, Prongs. My uncle wants me to eat with him this morning."

"Why?"

"I don't know. If I absolutely had to guess, I'd say it had something to do with my being his nephew."

"So nothing specific? You're not in trouble or anything?"

Sirius shook his head "Nah, I'm squeaky clean at the moment. I've got to say, your being all straight-and-narrow bound has put a damper on my life. I'm practically straight-laced now. I haven't been drunk in weeks."

"Three days, Padfoot."

"I was barely tipsy. That doesn't count."

"Alright, five days then."

Sirius thought about it. "Fair enough." They reached the sixth floor. "This is where I leave you. Have a good breakfast. Don't hit anyone."

"Very funny."

"No, I'm completely serious, she had sixteen house-elves in that bedroom, trying to clear it out. Nothing. Three days, they were in there, and the posters would not come down."

Sirius laughed as his uncle finished relating his story. "Well," began the younger Black, finishing his tea with a smirk, "I'm glad I left something of an impression."

"You did at that," replied the Professor. "Did you enjoy the breakfast?"

"Yeah, it was nice."

"I'm glad." There was a brief silence, as Professor Black began to clean up. "Listen, Sirius," he began after a while, "you know, you probably did the right thing, running away when you did. Just... y'know... getting out of the house."

Sirius nodded. "I had to leave. After that last... that last night, I couldn't stay there anymore. There wasn't any reason left to stay."

"You were smart," agreed Black, sitting down again, closer to the fire and further from his nephew. "You were smart about the whole business... emptying your bank vault before Walburga could snatch your savings... moving in with the Potters... it was all well done."

"To tell the truth, James was the one who thought about emptying my bank vault. If it had been me, I would've left it there and Mum would've showed up at Gringotts, exuding her usual charm and getting them to open it up for her with her spare key." Sirius smirked. "Yeah, I was lucky to have the Potters." They were quiet for a time, before the younger continued: "Listen, er... can I ask you something?"

Alphard Black nodded.

"How come you never left? I mean, how come you never ran out on the family?"

"Well... it was different for me. It was never as difficult as it was for you. I've always been more passive, I guess. 'Course I disagree with my dear sweet sister, and the whole family is bloody mad, but you have to understand, Sirius, that for most of my life, the Black 'tourjous pur' propaganda was just... talk. There was no action behind it."

"But there's action now," Sirius cut in. "The death eaters and Voldemort... people say there's a war coming, and I'm starting to think they're right."

"People? You mean Alex Potter."

"Among others."

Professor Black nodded. "They're probably right, Sirius. Sometimes I wish I'd had your nerve. But I was never a Gryffindor. Like all dutiful Blacks, I was in Slytherin."

"So was Andromeda," replied Sirius with a shrug. "I don't care about that. And I'd hardly call you a dutiful Black. You spoke down to Grandfather in public at that New Years Party a few years ago. Mum was furious."

"Well, that's neither here nor there." Sirius knew not how to respond to this, so he simply pretended to attend to his teacup. "Listen, Sirius," his uncle continued presently, "I know what happened that night and... I'm sorry about the house elf."

"'The house elf' had a name," Sirius said dryly. "Daisy was only creature in the whole house that was ever nice to me, y'know."

"What about Regulus?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Babies don't count."

"He's only a few years younger then you."

"But he hasn't been nice to me since he was a baby."

"Be that as it may," said Black, and he seemed tired, "He admires you."

Sirius shook his head. "Regulus is a git. He's just like Mum and Dad and Bella."

"He's not, though. He's young and impressionable and confused. He never had the opportunity that you did..."

"What opportunity is that?"

"Being in Gryffindor, of course. Away from all the blood nonsense in Slytherin."

"Reg could have gone into Gryffindor if he wanted to. He had a choice, same as anyone. That's how the sorting works."

"Sirius," began his uncle slowly. "Regulus had quite a bit to... deal with, after you were sorted into Gryffindor. He realized that it would have broken my sister's heart if he didn't make it into Slytherin."

"Impossible. Mum doesn't have a heart to break."

"Sirius..."

"I can't believe you're defending her," countered the younger wizard, approaching aggressive. "You weren't there that night. You didn't see her... she just killed that house elf like it was... a weed or something. She mounted the head on the wall, all because she knew that I actually cared about that elf... that she was my only friend in the whole stupid house."

"I'm not defending Walburga. I'm defending Regulus."

"It was Regulus's fault!" cried Sirius, rising. "Regulus was the one who told Mum that Daisy knew I'd snuck out the night before. If he hadn't told, Mum would never have known, and she wouldn't have murdered the house elf!"

"He didn't know, Sirius. Regulus is so young, and..."

"So, now he's so young. I thought he was 'only a few years younger than me.'"

"Listen, Sirius, there's still hope for your brother, if..."

"You know," Sirius spoke loudly over his uncle, "If I'd known that the reason you were being so nice to me all was to form some kind of tear-jerking family reunion, I wouldn't have come at all. And here, I thought it was because, I don't know, I thought maybe you actually wanted to show me that I had a halfway decent relative... who actually cared about me as an individual, not just the heir to the family name."

"Sirius, you know..."

The younger Black did not listen. He stormed out of the office, closing the door with a slam behind him.

(The Debate)

Lily spent Saturday in the library with Severus: admittedly this wasn't the most glamorous thing to do with half the weekend, but Lily thought of it as an investment. The whole day was awkward, of course, as neither really knew how they ought to behave around the other, but, Lily reasoned, there could only be so much discomfort. Eventually, they would use up all their awkward hours, and then things would... well, Lily hadn't thought that far ahead. Things would return to normal?

Why did that seem implausible?

The redhead was pondering this very question when she joined Marlene for supper that evening. Marlene, of course, hadn't been eating alone, but with Adam McKinnon. The pair was laughing at something or other as Lily took a seat.

"Where have you been all day?" Marlene wanted to know. Lily blinked.

"Me? Library. With Sev."

The blonde frowned. "I sort of hoped you were joking when you said you'd made up with him."

"Why would I joke about that?"

"A better question is 'why don't you indulge my wishful thinking?'"

"Santa Clause isn't real."

"You're evil."

Lily grabbed a serving fork and selected a few slices of ham. "So what were you talking about before I came? In case you're wondering, this is my subtle attempt to change the subject."

"Clever," said Adam.

"Exceptionally," agreed Marlene. "We were talking about Quidditch tryouts."

"Oh, the notice was posted, wasn't it?" Lily noted absently. "Good thing, too, since Donna's been complaining so about practicing with six players."

"I don't see why," Adam added. "We've barely started scrimmaging. Potter's on a 'strength training' trip. Anyway, what I was saying is that Marlene should try out."

"And I was saying he's out of his mind," Marlene put in. "I haven't played Quidditch in months... and I've never even tried for the team before. I'd be terrible."

"No, you should try out," Lily agreed. "Remember when we took flying lessons. You were the best girl in our year... even better than Donna at the time, and she's on the team. Don't tell her I said that."

"Lily, flying lessons?" asked Marlene, trying to find the situation more ridiculous than she really did. "That was first year."

"But the position we need is Seeker," interjected Adam. "That's eighty percent skill anyway. You've either got it or you don't. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Well," began Marlene, ever the optimist, "I could humiliate myself in front of just about everyone, and then fall to a bone-crushing death, so gruesome that I'm nothing but goo and teeth by the time they scrape me up, and then my mother decides that she never really loved me and holds an open casket funeral."

The other two thought about it. "Alright, that would be bad," Lily admitted. "But what are the chances of that happening, really? Especially the part with your mum."

"I can't try out," the blonde went on, poking uncomfortably at her sparsely populated plate. "James wouldn't pick me and... and anyway, I'd have to play against Miles, what with him being a Ravenclaw chaser."

They reached the heart of the matter, and the look exchanged between Adam and Lily told them that they both knew it. And, while they both felt rather inclined to reprimand their mutual friend, Adam knew it was not his place, and Lily knew it was inappropriate to do so in front of Adam. Without any official or even rational reason for this, it was, nonetheless, true.

"Why'd you get so quiet?" Marlene wondered. "Keep talking, or I'm sure to have a slice of that bread." She glanced longingly down the table.

"Eat, Karen Carpenter," Lily ordered. "You're about twelve feet tall. No one will notice if you gain ten pounds, much less half of one."

"Do you think I'm going to gain ten pounds?" Marlene looked at her plate fearfully. "I knew I shouldn't have had desert last Thursday..."

"Pathetic," sighed Lily, as Adam attempted to put a slice of bread on her plate.

Donna arrived. "Where have you been all day?" she demanded of Lily, taking a seat beside her friend.

"I told you before I left this morning," the prefect defended herself.

Donna frowned. "I might have some vague and hazy recollection of you beating me with a pillow and telling me something in a language that sounded like a cross between goblin and Norwegian, but I'm pretty sure that that transpired at about eight o'clock this morning, and you could have been a Norwegian goblin for all I was aware."

"Library," said Lily. "With Severus. And don't yell at me. Where were you?"

"Quidditch, showers, kitchens, Common Room with a book." Donna ticked off the locations on her fingers. "I realize when you're not around, Evans, that I have very few friends."

"I could have told you that," Marlene supplied helpfully.

"So, Shack," Adam spoke up, so as to divert an argument, "Marlene's thinking of trying out for the Quidditch team. We're trying to convince her."

"You two were thinking of me trying out for the Quidditch team," Marlene corrected. "I wasn't."

"Good," said Donna. "That would be awful."

Lily kicked her. "I've talked to you about this."

"I mean..." Donna went on, intentionally unconvincing, "You should do what you... want."

"It was a valiant attempt at niceness," Adam acknowledged. "Anyhow, I've got Potions homework. I'll see you lot later. Think about it, Marlene."

"Or don't," Donna supplied, as he left. "Y'know... whatever you want..."

Marlene rolled her eyes, smiling anyway. She pushed her plate away, and when she looked back up at her friends, they were watching her expectantly, Lily with a bit of a smile.

"What?" asked the blond.

Lily shook her head, still smiling, and chewed a slice of bread knowingly. "Nothing."

"What?"

Donna made no reply and served herself several slices of ham.

"Stop smiling, Lily," Marlene commanded. "I'm serious, stop."

"I'm not smiling!"

"You are! Stop it!" But that only made Lily smile more. "Stop!" whined Marlene. "Lily. This is stupid. You are..." She turned to Donna. "Lily said I was a better flier than you in first year."

"You bitch."

(The Divulgence)

Exhausted, annoyed, and wishing he'd stayed in bed that morning, James Potter ducked around a corner of the castle, and withdrew his cigarettes. He wasn't entirely sure what the school policy on smoking was, but he would bet that it did not favor the habit. Anyway, he didn't want any pesky third years seeing him and imitating it. Then he would have to quit on principle.

The Quidditch Captain lit up, watching the smoke as he exhaled against the pale blue Sunday morning sky.

"So this is why you called a ten minute recess in the tryouts," remarked a voice, and James nearly jumped. Sirius appeared, leaning against the wall with a smirk in place.

"This and my sanity," replied James, offering Sirius a cigarette.

Padfoot shook his head. "I'm not in the mood."

"You have a mood?"

"I have many. It's one of the downfalls of being a human being. You wouldn't know anything about it, Prongs."

"Funny."

Sirius walked over, and then leaned against the wall, slipping his hands into the pockets of his Quidditch trousers. Both boys were geared up in their house robes for the tryouts, which had now been underway for over an hour. In addition to the off white trousers (with a red and a gold stripe up the outside of the leg); they wore the scarlet and gold robes; long-sleeved undershirts (also red); and knee pads, elbow pads, gloves, and boots all of the same brown leather. The ensemble might have been oppressive, had the October morning air not been so chilly. As it was, James was grateful for his cigarette.

For a while, they were quiet. No conversation was necessary for each to know what the other was thinking, when it came to the tryouts. They were going terribly. Twenty students had test flown for the team, and twenty students had proven themselves inadequate fits for the vacant position on the team (seeker). Anyway, that was James's opinion: Sirius had thought one or two of them might do (with a lot of training), but James remained adamant that they "didn't fit." His best friend didn't really understand this, to tell the truth, but he didn't argue either. There was a reason James had gotten Quidditch Captain in only his fifth year.

Actually, as they stood there—James with his cigarette and Sirius with his thoughts—the latter reflected very little on the tryouts. His mind was elsewhere.

James took a drag, and Sirius said: "I had an argument with my uncle."

Without turning, the other nodded. "Okay..." He waited for more.

"He wants me to make up with Regulus."

"Oh." Quiet, then—"Are you going to do it?"

Sirius pondered the question, and then with discontented certainty replied: "No."

James nodded again. "Okay."

And they fell silent once more.

(The Plea)

"It's terrible, Marlene," sighed Adam, collapsing dramatically at Gryffindor table, which made her smile. "It's awful. Dreadful. Horrendous."

"Bad. I get the picture, Adam," replied the blond. "Tryouts not going so well then?"

"On a scale of one to ten, they're a train wreck colliding with dragons."

"I'm sorry." She genuinely looked it, pushing aside her book and leaning against her fist. "What brings you inside? I thought James wanted the whole team there."

"Just the first string players, but he called a ten minute break..." Adam told her. "I'm thinking of putting him on suicide watch. You should have seen him when this fourth year girl tried to fly a broom backwards."

"Damn."

"Exactly." They were quiet for a minute. "So," Adam continued presently, "I see that you're... reading."

"Yes."

"And in doing so, you are missing this great spectacle that is the tryouts."

"True."

Silence, then: "Please, Marlene, you have to..."

"No! Adam, I can't! I'll be terrible!"

"You won't be," Adam protested. "I saw you play last summer, and you were good!"

"My competition was your fourteen-year-old sister!"

"Marlene, please, just try! We need a seeker, and you can fly. You've got good eyes, you're thin, which makes for fast flying, and..."

"I am not thin."

"The railing is jealous of you."

They looked at each other for a minute. There was green in his eyes.

"Fine."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I'll try out. But if I fail abominably, we are no longer friends."

"I'm not even a little bit scared."

Marlene got up from the table. "I should go... y'know, change into something more... athletic."

"And I should get back to the tryouts," Adam agreed.

"I'll be down soon. Hopefully you'll have found someone else before then."

"Don't take too long, or James might just pick that fourth year."

Smiling, they went their separate ways.

(The Apology)

"Lily," said the Head Boy, and the Gryffindor prefect stopped and turned. "I was wondering—could I talk to you about something?"

As the prefect meeting drew to a close and the other prefects, as well as the Head Girl, filed out, Lily nodded. "Right, sure." Frank look serious. "Is something wrong?"

When they were alone, Frank sighed. "I—I don't know. I just... I wanted to apologize."

"Apologize?" Lily repeated uncertainly. "Whatever for?"

"Well, when you asked me about Alice... last month, in detention... I was sort of..." Frank struggled for articulate speech: "I was vague... I guess 'vague' is the right word."

"It's one of them," Lily agreed.

"I was just going through a thing," Frank continued. "I... I can't really explain it beyond that. But I wanted you to know that I'm not... I mean, you were right about us. We're good together, and I shouldn't mess that up. I was just being really thick about... everything and... I'm sorry."

"You have no reason to apologize to me," said Lily, smiling and feeling a rush of warmth towards this poor, terribly awkward wizard. "Issues are normal, and you don't owe me a thing. You were just trying to be honest with me, and I appreciate that. However, as long as your handing them out, I think Alice might enjoy a nice, heartfelt 'I'm sorry.'"

"She's next on the list," Frank assured her. "It's just that you and Alice are mates, and you and I are mates... at least, I think..."

"We're mates, Frank."

"Right. Well... I didn't want you to think I was a jerk."

"Never."

"Good." He looked at his feet, and then up at her again. "Yeah, I've definitely decided that this... phase... is over. I'm going to be completely honest."

"I've heard that ranks high in the whole hierarchy of policies."

"Right." (Grinning). "Well, you probably have plans for the rest of your Sunday. I'll let you get going."

"Okay. Take care, Frank."

"You as well."

(The Persuasion)

"Marlene!" Miles Stimpson called out his girlfriend's name, hastening to catch up with the witch as she hurried up the second floor staircase. "Marly! Hey, Marly!"

Finally, she heard him and turned. "Oh, hi, Miles." She stopped and waited for him, then kissed him on the cheek.

Miles appeared unhappy. "I thought were supposed to hang out this morning. We agreed that last night."

"You said you would meet me at nine o'clock for breakfast," said Marlene. "It's past ten."

"I'm sorry," sighed her boyfriend. "I got caught up with my mates and..."

"It's no big deal." She smiled down at him, for she was two steps above him on the stair. "Well, I have to go, so..."

"Wait, I thought maybe we could spend some time together now." He raised his eyebrows in unsubtle code.

"I can't. I've got tryouts."

"Tryouts? For what?"

"Quidditch."

Miles blinked. "As in the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Marly?"

"No, as in the Irish National Team." She crossed her arms. "What else?"

He processed the information, and though she tried to conceal it, Marlene was quite anxious to gauge his reaction. After a moment, the Ravenclaw looked up at her with puzzlement in his eyes: "Marlene, I don't understand. I thought you agreed with me when I said I didn't think it would be a good idea for you to try for the team... back in fourth year."

"That was fourth year," Marlene replied. "This is now. We're a different couple now. I really don't think it would be a problem with you on the Ravenclaw team and my playing for Gryffindor..."

"It would be, though. You'd have to go against me. Cheer against me, root against me!"

"I cheer for Gryffindor against you anyway, Miles."

"But, if it were in your interest for, say Hufflepuff to beat us, you would have to root for Hufflepuff, if you were on the team."

"Miles, I really want to try for this. I think it would be fun."

"It wouldn't be! Do you fly well, Marly?"

"I—I don't know. Maybe. I used to be alright, and I've played over the summer, and they said I was pretty good at..."

"Marly, James Potter is your captain," Miles reminded her, as though informing a young child that the tooth fairy was a myth. "If you're practicing with James Potter, you can't be 'pretty good.' You have to be top notch. He's a really tough captain!"

"I know that, but I just want to try..."

She stopped. Miles frowned. "You know, Marly, you're being kind of insensitive. I don't want to cheer against you, even if you don't care about putting a wedge between us."

"I don't want to put a wedge between us, Miles, but..."

"That's what you're doing! And it kind of hurts my feelings, you know?" he said roughly, crossing his arms and scowling. "But if the Quidditch team means more to you than our relationship, then you should do what you want."

Marlene looked at him carefully. His eyes were a perfectly even shade of brown.

"Do you—do you really, really not want me to do this?"

"I really, really don't want you to do this," he replied quietly, almost sweetly.

Marlene sighed. "Then... I won't."

He beamed and kissed her. "Good. You're great, Marlene. Do you know that?" He kissed her again, this time on the cheek. "C'mon. We'll hang out now, alright?"

"Oh, I really should go tell..."

"You stood me up, Marly," Miles reminded her, smiling. "You owe me."

(The Consolation)

"Alright," said James, surveying his five, Quidditch-gear-clad housemates, as they stood in a ring near the edge of the Quidditch pitch. He rubbed his forehead wearily, "it's five o'clock in the afternoon. It is five o-fucking-clock in the evening. We have all been here since nine a.m. That's eight hours. Eight fucking hours."

"We took a ten minute break," Sirius reminded him.

"Seven hours and fifty minutes," James corrected himself. "Remind me to kill you in your sleep tonight, Black."

"Will do."

"...So what I'm hoping," the Quidditch Captain went on, his voice so tense that the proverbial feather would surely have broken his or any camel's back, "is that we can reach a consensus before I climb to the top of the castle and jump off." He bowed to Adam. "No offense, McKinnon. Now. For the last time before I die, I need you all to cast your vote. Okay? Because we are a team, and I really have no bloody clue, so if you all don't vote, I'm picking the Ravenclaw who offered me a lap dance. Clear?"

There was a general, affirmative mumble.

"Now, even though you all officially fail at voting," James continued, "I'm looking at you, Shack..."

"Why?"

"You wrote on your ballot, 'Who gives a fuck?'"

"A valid question," said Michael Mitchum, the third year who played beater.

"Quiet, Short-Round," ordered James. He cleared his throat. "As I was saying, even though you all fail at voting, I have—with some sort of vague assistance from your votes—narrowed it down to three candidates for seeker. I'm not going to dare with the whole secret ballot thing again..."

"You just told everyone how I voted," Donna pointed out.

"You voted 'Who gives a fuck?' and forfeited your rights," James retorted. "Now, let's just have a show of hands. I have Marcus McLeod, Shannon Mayhew, and Ricki Nivens. All in favor of Marcus?"

Michael Mitchum raised his hand.

"All in favor of Shannon Mayhew?"

Everyone remained still.

"And Ricki Nivens?" finished James. Sirius, Donna, and the other beater, Damacus Weasley, raised their hands unenthusiastically.

The Quidditch Captain glared at Adam. "McKinnon, you have to vote."

The Keeper begrudgingly raised his hand. "Ricki was the best," he admitted.

"I agree," said James. "Ricki it is. We'll keep Marcus on as a second string player. Can everyone agree on that? Short-round?"

"Fine with me," said Michael. "I just want dinner."

"Fantastic. Underclassmen have clean up. I'll go tell Ricki and Marcus." With that, James turned and departed in the general direction of his equipment bag and the castle. Sirius shook his head knowingly and began to collect his own things. While Marcus and Damacus—the "underclassmen"—picked up the castaway Quaffles, Adam began to sort his gear into a pile of its own.

"Alright there, McKinnon?" asked Sirius, un-strapping his elbow pads. "You didn't seem too enthusiastic about Ricki Nivens."

"He's wasn't bad," Adam allowed, without expression. "Potter will probably be able to make him into a decent seeker."

"I agree," said Sirius. "But..." (not meeting his eye and placing his knee guards in his duffle bag) "...you were hoping Marlene Price would show up, weren't you?"

Adam looked at him. "She told me she would, that's all. She's a good flier. It would have been good for the team, y'know, if she were to..." he paused, "...play."

"Right. I agree." Sirius nodded understandingly. "It would have been a good thing. I wonder why she didn't come to tryouts... I heard you telling James that she'd promised to be right down."

"Yeah. It's weird." But Adam seemed more disappointed than confused, as though he knew exactly what had happened. "But—er—it's no big deal," he continued to the Marauder hastily. "I mean, it would've been cool, that's all. It's easier to deal with someone you know. Like... y'know, it's easier for you to deal with class when your uncle's the teacher, right?"

Sirius smirked bitterly. "It... seems like it would be, maybe. But sometimes things that seem like a good idea really aren't. Sometimes it just complicates things."

Adam nodded. "Yeah." He threw the strap of his bag over one shoulder. "I'll see you around, Black."

"Later, McKinnon."

The Keeper departed, and Sirius sat down on the grass. "Hurry up with that equipment!" he called out to Weasley and Mitchum. Twirling a blade of grass between his fingers, Sirius exhaled loudly. He could use a cigarette right about now.

(The Argument)

Severus closed his Potions book. He peered across the Library table at Lily, who was working intently on her own essay. Noticing her companion's hiatus, the redhead looked up.

"Are you finished already?" she marveled. "I'm barely half-way done!"

"You're being quiet," Snape said, as though he had not heard her. "You are being silent, and it's making me nervous."

"You're not exactly Chatty Cathy," replied Lily, frowning.

"But I'm not the talkative one. You're always the one who talks. I just... listen." Stare, is more like it, he thought.

"Alright." Lily closed her own copy of Advance Potion Making. "We'll talk then. Er... how was your afternoon?"

"It was... fine."

Lily nodded. "Now, you're supposed to ask me how my afternoon was."

"How was it?" asked Severus awkwardly.

"Nice," said Lily. "After I got out of the prefect meeting, Mary and I tried to paint."

"Paint?"

"Yes, I was seized with artistic inspiration and wanted to paint something. Mary got a Ravenclaw bloke she... knows... to conjure up some blank canvases and things, and we painted in the dormitory. It was lovely. I painted a flower. Mary painted me."

"Can I see it?"

"Not Mary's picture, you can't," replied Lily. "She realized it looked more like a flower than my picture did, so we splashed all the colors on it, which sounds like it might end up pretty, but really just turned the whole thing into this hideous yellow-ish-grey shade. Anyway, we put it in the bathroom, so hopefully the house-elves will find it and dispose of it out of pity for the rest of the world."

Severus nodded and looked down at his closed book, which Lily knew meant a sort of substitute smile. She beamed. "This will get easier," she told him, and he nodded once again.

"I should get going," he said quietly (of course, he said everything quietly). They both rose, collecting their books and quills.

"Are you going down to the Great Hall?" asked Lily, as they started out of the library. "I'll walk with you, if you are."

"No, I'm going back to my Common Room," replied the Slytherin. "So I'll just... see you later."

"Right," agreed Lily. "Bye, Sev."

"Bye, Lily."

He turned and departed, leaving Lily temporarily alone in the corridor. She sighed. Talk about déjà vu...

"What was that about, Snaps?"

Lily looked around and saw James—fully clothed in his Quidditch gear—coming towards her, confusion and curiosity mingling in his expression.

"What was what about?"

"Snape and you," said the Quidditch captain, nodding towards the Slytherin's retreating person. "Were you studying together or something?"

"Well... yes." She wondered why confessing this to James suddenly made her quite uncomfortable.

A number of emotions (or some facsimile of emotions) passed over James's face in a matter of second. Then, assuming a highly ironic expression, he smirked. "Star-crossed lovers reunited?" he asked.

"Sev and I are... sort of mates again," Lily endeavored to explain. "He's sorry for what he did, and I decided I couldn't hold it against him any longer. So we're... trying to patch things up."

"Patch things up," repeated James.

"Listen, Potter..."

"You're an idiot, Evans."

Lily flinched. "It's complicated."

"He insulted you in the worst way possible in front of everyone," said James bluntly. "What about that is complicated? It's actually really, really simple."

"Well," began Lily, the heat rising to her face, "I wouldn't call it the 'worst way possible.' I think, maybe just maybe, it would be worse to levitate someone twenty feet in the air and threaten to take off their pants in front of everyone."

"I'm not going to apologize."

"I don't care."

They glared at each other for a moment. "I have to get a book from the library," James said at length, and as he sidestepped Lily, he repeated: "You're an idiot, Snaps."

"You have issues, Potter," the redhead replied. Then he was gone, and she was annoyed.

(The Resolution)

Showered, changed, and feeling just generally better, Adam took a seat at Gryffindor table that evening. He was focused entirely on the steak before him and not at all on the Quidditch tryouts of that day, when someone took a seat beside him. Without looking, Adam knew instinctively who it must be.

"Are you angry with me?" Marlene asked quietly (sweetly, perfectly).

Adam thought about it, and shook his head. "No."

"You're not?" She sounded doubtful. "Not at all?"

"No."

"I just... I think it's better for me to focus on school right now," Marlene explained, almost believing it. "And plus, I don't need any added drama with Miles, right?"

"Right. Drama is... bad."

"Very," agreed Marlene. She was quiet, as she took a slice of bread and buttered it. "You're sure you're not angry?"

"Positive," said Adam. "You have to do what you want, Mar. That's what matters. That's all there is to it."

Marlene bit her lip. "And you're not disappointed with me either?"

He finally met her eye (they were blue and green and grey all in one). "I'm never disappointed in you," he assured her. She beamed. "Except," he continued seriously, "If you don't eat that slice of bread, I might be."

Marlene took a bite and closed her eyes. "Carbohydrates, how I have missed you." Adam grinned.

(The Confession)

When Lily finished her shower that evening, the dormitory was almost completely empty on her return. Donna had gone downstairs to tackle the loathed potions essay, while Mary and Marlene had made an owlry run to mail letters to their parents. Shelley, too, was nowhere to be seen, so when Lily entered her dorm, drying her long, wavy hair with a towel, only Carlotta Meloni remained, seated at the vanity with an utterly dreamy expression on her lovely face.

"Hi, Lily," greeted the other, her smile only growing. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," replied Lily. "What's got you so cheerful? Are drugs involved?"

Carlotta shook her head. "Something good happened today."

"Something good happened today," Lily repeated. "I'm glad." She sat down on a bed. "Alright, then. Dish."

"Well," began Carlotta, "you remember that bloke I mentioned before..."

"When you said you were having 'boy trouble' last week?"

Carlotta nodded.

"Right, I remember." Lily thought back. "You said that the two of you connected over summer holidays, but he was a bit hesitant about a relationship now. Something about you're not being 'his type.'"

Carlotta nodded. "There was... actually, there was a little more to it then that. He thought that he had certain... I don't know how to explain this. He just... didn't think that he could make a relationship work with me, you know?"

"Okay," said Lily slowly, smiling simply because Carlotta's glow was infectious. "Judging from your current Sandra Dee impersonation, I'm guessing he modified his opinion today?"

"Well," Carlotta went on, "I asked him to meet with me this morning in a spare classroom, and he said he would, but then he didn't show, so I thought 'alright, he really just doesn't care at all. I should just move on.'"

"So far, this isn't very Cinderella-esque..."

"Cinderella?"

"Never mind. Continue."

"Well," continued the brunette, "I decided to confront him anyway, which is completely out of character for me. Usually, if a chap isn't interested in me..." she paused. "Who am I kidding? Chaps are always interested in me. This is a new experience." Lily laughed appreciatively. "Anyway, I decided I had to speak to him. I couldn't just let it go... not after that kiss." She practically swooned, and Lily arched an eyebrow at her roommate's melodrama.

"Just one kiss?" she asked. "It must have been good."

"Earth-shattering," said Carlotta. "We were on holiday in the same village, this boy and I... it was on the beach at midnight. I'd had a few drinks but I was still—you know—sober, and so was he... mostly, y'know."

"Right."

"It was dark, there were stars, and we just... kissed. It was perfect. I don't do perfect, Lily, this is so unusual for me. But it was just romantic and right. Of course, then he said it was a mistake and we shouldn't see each other anymore, because he felt guilty."

"Guilty?"

"It's complicated," said Carlotta, waving the inquiry away with one delicate, olive toned hand. "Anyway, that kiss—it was right near the end of the holiday. We wrote a couple times afterward, but he was always... weird, after that night. So, when we got back to school, I tried speaking to him, but he was... still weird. And then with the bit... at the beginning of the year, with my... er... incident in the Common Room... well it all just added to the confusion. Then, last week we spoke for a few minutes, and he said that he had no way of understanding my feelings, which completely threw me, because I had thought I'd been fairly up-front about the whole thing."

"Naturally."

"So, that's what I wanted to speak to him about this morning. I wanted to tell him that I wanted something real with him. I know that's unusual for me, but, Lily..." here, quite sincerely, "there was real magic this summer. Real, fantastic magic."

Somehow, Lily could not help but envying Carlotta. After years of what Carlotta liked to call "nice nights," she had actually found someone she wanted to live with... happily ever after. Maybe Cinderella was not so far off the mark...

"By the way, Lily, thank-you so much for letting me tell you all of this. Shelley... she's my best friend, but she can be truly dense sometimes. Anyway, where was I?"

"He stood you up this morning," supplied the redhead.

"He did. I was broken. Then, after supper, I approached him, and said we needed to talk... quite firmly, I must admit. He said that he had to speak with me, too. So, when we were alone, he said that he really cared about me, but it wouldn't work. It couldn't work; we shouldn't have kissed over the summer; it was a mistake, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. And then it happened."

"What did?"

"The most spiritual experience that I have ever... experienced. We kissed again. Alright, I kissed him, but he kissed me back. It was beautiful. Wonderful. Perfect."

"So..." Lily was confused. "You two are going out, then?"

"Well..." For the first time, Carlotta appeared a tad dissatisfied. "To be honest, after the kiss, he left... dazed, a little confused, but kind of... you know, enraptured, I think?" Carlotta shook off her doubts and smiled. "It doesn't matter, though. We didn't get to have a conversation about it, I know, which I would have preferred, but at the same time, nothing was ruined by soul-burdening dialogue."

"Carlotta, soul-burdening dialogue can be really helpful," said Lily, cautiously. "Soul-burdening dialogue is how you know whether or not he's committed to being with you."

The brunette shook her head. "He could have screamed that he never wanted to see me again after that kiss, and I would have known that he was committed to being with me. I... tasted it."

Carlotta had a lot of strange ideas, but the way she seemed so uncharacteristically hopeful made Lily smile a little. "I hope it works out, Carlotta."

"It will." So confidently.

"So," began the redhead, leaning a little closer and arching a mischievous eyebrow, "now that you've told me all of that, you have to tell me who the bloke is."

Carlotta's lip twitched. "Oh, I want to, but... I'm not sure if it's a good idea."

"Carlotta..."

"Fine." She leaned closer conspiratorially. "And you won't tell?"

"Of course not."

"Fine," said Carlotta again. She paused, allowing the anticipation to grow. Then, finally, glowing with what the girl herself would have called transcendent ecstasy, Carlotta whispered: "It's Frank Longbottom."

There are some conversations that one wishes they had never held at all.

A/N: That was exhausting. Don't hate me. Everything works out.

Love to Underbabe, Wanna-be Lily (right this second is very quickly—here's a new one, though), and Annoynomus (the 75 detention thing will be explained in full in the next chapter).

Reviews are Cheesecake Day at the Cheesecake Factory.

Love and cookies,

Jewels