The common room was quiet.
Don’t get me wrong, I like stillness. I love stillness. The fire crackling, the rain on the window, the emptiness of my favorite place on the planet. I’d replaced my uniform with a baggy sweater and the same old sweatpants. My hair was up, my makeup was off, but James’ eyes weren’t leaving my face.
–Aren’t you Lily Evans?†he said softly, his murmur blending with the other low conversations. He kept scooting closer on the couch. I raised my eyes from the parchment I was marking, curling up tighter in my armchair. He inched back to the middle, spreading his arms out.
–What kind of question is that?†I answered, fighting a smile. –Are you James Potter, or the other bloke (that looks hot in glasses) that I’m snogging?â€
–I just mean, it’s our second day of classes, and you haven’t finished the week’s homework yet,†he said smartly, running his hand through his hair. It did nothing to help the disheveled look that he was already achieving from wearing plaid pajamas in a public place. He didn’t look like he’d just gotten off his broom, like I knew he wanted to. He looked like he’d just gotten into a wrestling match against Sirius. In a dumpster.
–Have you ever tried a hairbrush?†I asked, setting the quill back in its inkwell.
–Have you ever gotten a bad mark?†he quipped, and I was tempted to throw the parchment at him, but I didn’t want to make a mess of the wet ink.
–I will if you continue bothering me, you egotistical prat,†I snapped, adjusting the lap table I’d acquired to do my homework in a more comfortable position.
–We could do something fun, you know, Evans. It’s a warm night, I’ve got means to get into Hogsmeade, Sirius is asleep . . .â€
I raised my gaze slowly, fixing him with an intense, scolding glare. –You’re one hell of a Head Boy. How do you explain if you get caught by a prefect?â€
James ignored my hidden reprimand with a wink. –So you’re open to the idea, Head Girl?â€
I tuned him out, and tried to finish my thought. What were the other names for aconite? I hated writing Potions essays. They always made me think of Severus. We used to meet in a back corner of the library and look up new potions and ingredients for fun. He fancied the idea of shortcuts and better methods than the books taught us. He’d know what aconite was. I glanced up at James, as he watched me excitedly, and wondered how mad he’d be if he knew what was on my mind.
–I’ve got this Potions essay, James,†I said softly, sad all of a sudden. Why did people with good hearts go bad? I thought of his eyes, black and cold, watching me from behind Avery that day in Diagon Alley. I thought of what he was thinking, now that I was dating James. It had been a long time since the two were engaged in a jinxing war, but that was mainly due to the new severity of their situations. Snape was obviously now a Death Eater, or at least becoming one, as much as I hated to admit it. And James was a junior member of the Order of the Phoenix, much to my anxiety. To duel now would be to fight a war.
James sat up, and adjusted his glasses. –Lils, are you all right?â€
–Yes, Potter, I’m fine,†I snapped, and he drew back, nodding.
–I’m gonna go kick Padfoot,†he told me, and he went up the boys’ stairs. I shook my head, hoping the nostalgia would fall out one ear and the sleepiness would fall out the other. I thought of Slughorn shaking his head at me for having a late Potions assignment, and the class staring at me, the star Potions pupil, having late work . . . and Severus, watching me, as though he knew what kept me from finishing it. That, in itself, was all I needed to scribble out a few more paragraphs in roughly a half an hour.
I gathered my things and prepared to head up the stairs, turning to glance back at the staircase to James’ room. It had been a half an hour since he went to wake Sirius to go to Hogsmeade. I thought of the cool September evening, and the moon over the castle, and a night out laughing and running. I glanced at the stairs to my room, and sighed. There was going to bed, and letting another school day start as many more would as the year went on.
I dashed up to my dorm and pushed my homework under my bed, and went back into the hallway and down the staircase to the common room. When no one was looking, I dashed up to James’ room, and opened the door.
Sirius and James were sitting on the floor in boxers and tshirts, murmuring to each other quietly. I heard my name and –summer†and –Greyback.†Ugh.
–James?†I whispered, seeing Remus and Peter snoring in their beds. –Sirius? I think I’ll have that adventure now.â€
Sirius looked confused, and shot a look at James, who grinned from ear to ear. –Knew you’d come around, Madam Ginger.â€
I stuck my tongue out at him and waved frantically for them to follow me out. James hopped to his feet, grabbed sweats off his bed, and pulled them on. Sirius dove into his messy covers and secured a pair of jeans and his wand. The three of us, barefoot, went into the hallway, stole down to the common room, and jogged to the portrait hole.
The sixth years were the only ones still awake, and they glanced up at us warily. James and Sirius ignored them, so I did, too, holding tightly to James’ hand and climbing into the corridor. The Fat Lady was asleep, so we opened and closed the door carefully.
–Didn’t know you’d be one for a midnight visit to Madam Rosmerta,†Sirius teased quietly. –Don’t know how my leading lady will react, having a girl with us.â€
–Sorry, what’d you call her? Your leading lady? I’d think her daughter is closer to our age than she is,†I shot back, jaw open. What went through that boy’s head? Rosmerta was at least fifty. Plenty young-looking, none of it natural. But at least fifty.
Sirius smiled. –Rosmerta the Second. Nineteen. I could manage with either, to be honest,†he informed me, strutting ahead. James shook his head as I opened my mouth to protest. The idea of Sirius flirting with a girl that wasn’t Mary MacDonald set my teeth on edge.
Things with Sirius and Mary had been tense on the train. With everyone coupled up, and an awkward observation made by Peter pertaining to their past relationship, hormones had raged all the way to Hogwarts. When we got off the train, the pair had scurried to separate carriages, and sat as far from each other as possible at dinner. Since then, they’d worked to go to meals at completely separate times, and sit as far from each other as possible in class. This meant, much to mine and James’ annoyance, that we had to choose between each other and our friends, constantly. More often than not, over the past forty-eight hours, Marlene and I became surrogate Marauders, with our band of merry women actively avoiding our boyfriends and their friends entirely.
–It’s just nonsense, is all,†I whisper-hissed to James.
Sirius turned to me. –Something the matter, Lily-my-darlin’?â€
I waved for him to keep walking, and followed closely, leading James by the hand. My boyfriend was trailing behind, as though deliberately maintaining a pace where he could still hold some part of me and yet be separate from the inevitably awkward conversation about to ensue.
–Please don’t tell me you’ve been oblivious to how Mary’s been feeling, Black,†I started carefully.
He came to a stop in front of a statue of a witch, then muttered something to it. The statue slowly slid aside, and Sirius stepped to go in. Before he began to make his way into the tunnel, though, he turned to me and said, rather sternly, –Don’t want to talk about it, Evans.â€
I became indignant, then. I dropped James’ hand and crossed my arms. I could feel James’ anxiety elevating. He straightened his glasses and pulled his hands through his hair, his trademark nervous twitches. His eyes became super-concentrated on the marble tiles of the corridor floors. I ignored him, though, fueled by the image of Mary MacDonald at Sirius’ side. He’d saved her life, before. When he was hurt and scared, she was the first person he wrote to. They had the same brash sense of humor, the kind that could piss off anyone else in the room, but drive the other to near tears. She was his kind of girl - shockingly pretty, knowledgable of Quidditch, not afraid to cuss, not afraid to get sauce on her robes, didn’t fuss about having a hair out of place. She could break a nail and laugh about it, unlike Darcy or Alice. They were tailor made for one another, except for the stubbornness part.
–You and Mary are perfect for each other, Sirius . . . whateveryourmiddlenameis Black,†I growled. –And if you want me to shut up about it, then . . . well, I will. For tonight. But mark my words, you womanizing arse, she’d make you happier than Rosmerta the Second ever could.â€
Sirius stood silently, half his body in the shadow of the tunnel, glaring at me. James cleared his throat. –What Lily meant to say is that she’s very tired and would like some fine oak-matured mead from the Three Broomsticks. And she apologizes. Can we keep going, mate?â€
Sirius nodded, still silent, and turned, marching ahead.
I moved to start after him, but James caught my arm. –Lils, you can’t do that, all right?â€
–Can’t do what?†I snapped, feeling victorious, but impeded by my boyfriend’s cowardice.
–Can’t mention his middle name. He’s named after his dad, and he hates that guy.â€
Confused, and full of questions, I turned away from James, suddenly very eager to get drunk on Madam Rosmerta’s fine oak-matured mead.
The Stag and the Doe by grangergirl35
Chapter Notes: The usual excuses for a late update. Enjoy!
Chapter Endnotes: Maybe not my finest work. (Im tired and on cold medicine) Review, tell me what you think!