A/N: I seem to be getting this more often than usual for this story, for some reason, so I am going to have a quick little rant on characterization before continuing. Don’t worry, it’s not too bad. And I don’t plan on any other rants in the near future. So here we go—

Guys, this is Marauder era. We weren’t given a wealth of information from the books on it. When you fic something, you are basically using Jo’s vague sketch as an outline for your own character. Maybe my character isn’t exactly the same as your character. That’s okay. I am fairly confident (for once) that I’m doing this all right character-wise and I wanted to establish that, because people are telling me I’m OoC.

This fic is different from what I usually like to do. I’m lighter and more cheerful than I generally am. I know I have this habit of overcomplicating things, but for once, that’s not the case. When things get a little more serious – which they do later – I’ll be as angsty and poetic as you want. However, life is more than an angst-filled ride and I refuse to believe characters/people can be pinned down into a little personality-box and kept inside there all the time. Life is no fun if you don't push the envelope a little bit.

The rant is over now, but just keep it in mind as you read, ‘kay?

Enjoy. This chapter is fun. For me, anyway.
X

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September 20

Morning Check:

Getting up in the morning today wasn’t so hard. But that’s because I was up most of the night anyway, tossing and stressing and turning and wondering how in the name of Merlin my workload is going to decrease.

I didn’t get much sleep, but in a burst of jittery energy, I finished most of the essays I have due this week. And it’s only Monday morning.

Either I’m brilliant or going slightly insane. Will get back to that when am more coherent.

2:57 PM
Status: !!!

Homework for today…

Transfiguration: Master furniture-animal transformations for quiz tomorrow. Finish essay on the Space and Time Continuum Theory for tomorrow.

Charms: Master evaporation charm for water and other liquids.

Potions: Write the essay on antidote materials for day after tomorrow. Take notes on Chapter 2, all six sections, in preparation for Felix Felicis tomorrow. Finish up essay on the properties of dragon blood for tomorrow.

History of Magic: Take notes on Chapters 2 and 3 on the history of house elves. Skip sections 2.4 and 2.5.

Runes: Translate packet – all 8 pages. To be checked for points tomorrow.

Herbology: Write essay on care for mating Venomous Tentacula and how they care for their young. Read the sections on advanced bobutuber techniques for tomorrow.

Defense of the Dark Arts: Read the sections on non-verbal jinxes and prepare for the Jelly Legs Jinx for tomorrow. Finish essay on undoable jinxes and the reason behind them for day after tomorrow.

If there really is a Higher Power up there, I am sure He/She is laughing at me right about now. I am miserable.

If Livvy wants me to actually finish all this tonight, she’s mad. Really just quite barking mad.

10:32 PM
Status: Shaken

As to my remark this morning…my answer to that is official.

I am not going slightly insane:

I am going completely insane.

I’m currently about to blow my head off freaking out, but I know I need to go back to the beginning, before the madness began, so I can get it all straight and hopefully figure out what to do about it. And I need to calm down. My mum always said that being excited as well as being stressed is a recipe for my disaster. She’s probably right.

So…tonight. Here’s how it all went down.

As referenced above, I have homework to do. A lot of it. And I’m not quite sure how I’m supposed to finish it. Livvy, being my personal angel sent from heaven, has helped me ease the pressure during my free period, and after classes got out, but I have a lot to do yet and it’s worrying me.

All I can think about is how I’m supposed to do it; but then when I get down to seriously finishing it, I just can’t. I shy away, hating myself for it but doing it anyway, and I feel guilty all over again for not being on-task.

I’m not built to handle pressure. I’m just not. So tonight, when I had to go to my patrol at nine, as planned, I was feeling hectic and frantic and, as mentioned this morning, miserable. I knew I had to get on-task and put in that last burst of work before I could retire for the night, but I knew quite well I wouldn’t do a thing when I got back.

It made me feel sick to my stomach, my drive and my laziness battling each other with the backdrop of my two intestines, and there was nothing I could do about it. That triggered this vast sense of helplessness in me – another lovely human emotion to add to my list of them.

And then, on top of all that, I was patrolling with James Potter for the first time this year, spending alone time with him for what has to be the first time in our lives. That added its own stress and it was considerable – enough to have me feeling quite panicked as I excused myself from Livvy and Alice at nine o’clock for my very first patrol.

Despite the questionability of my mental health, I did meet James and the prefects by McGonagall’s office, as I was supposed to. Tonight, James, Will, Kate, Mavis, and Jonathon had the patrol with me. We dispersed to our assigned spots, James and I going upstairs to start at the sixth floor, and we began to walk, our footsteps particularly echo-y and weird because there weren’t a million rampaging feet running to class. I attempted to nurse my poor, wounded stomach as we went because I was nervous and was starting to feel physically sick because of it.

I must have looked sick, because right off the bat, James asked me, “Are you all right, Lily?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I assured him in a voice that was probably not very fine-sounding. “Thanks for asking.”

James nodded. He totally didn’t believe me. “Right…so…well, I haven’t really talked to you since last year, have I?”

No, no he hadn’t. He actually hadn’t “really talked” to me for much longer than that, but I wasn’t about to point out the discrepancy. I only nodded, trying to be polite.

“Yeah, we haven’t,” I agreed.

“So what have you been doing?” he asked. “How was your summer?”

He seemed really genuine about it. He was staring me down with those eyes of his, bright and earnest and so damn hazel. They were almost intimidating, because they gave their attention away overtly, without hesitation. I keep blushing when I’m around him, because I can’t help but wonder if he treats every girl this way.

“My summer was fine,” I said. “I mostly hung around at home, talked to Alice and Livvy, and did our plentiful summer homework.”

Homework.

Merlin, that comment was my greatest mistake of the evening.

Considering how fragile I had been before, I don’t know what possessed me to let that word slip; because at once, my stomach tightened and my throat dried out and my ideologies went right back to battle. This time, they were in my gut because my intestines kicked them out.

Oh, how bad it hurt, to know that I had so much waiting for me when I went upstairs in such a short amount of time. I had to try pretty hard to force a semi-acceptable smile on my face, although I’m sure it probably looked creepier than I intended.

“That’s good,” said James. “We do need some down-time.”

“We do.”

At this point, I became probably the worst raconteur in the entire universe. Like, worse than the doorknobs and the sea pigs and the conversationally-challenged. It was fairly pathetic, because normally my dialogue skills are decent enough – but once my brain reverted to homework, there was no stopping my nervous tension.

Too bad the person I was with at the time happened to be James bloody Potter.

He looked at me kind of oddly, since I was acting like I was about to retch or something, but decided to uneasily bumble along as we turned a corner.

“Yeah,” he said. “Well, I spent most of my summer with my mum’s side of the family, out in the country. Sirius came along and we rode our brooms most of the day. We got quite tan because of it – and Sirius got a wicked sunburn.”

I chuckled. I hope it sounded right, because I started scratching an itch on my arm and didn’t pay much attention. “Wow. Sounds like you guys had fun.”

“We did,” said James, grinning reminiscently. “My aunt Abby loves a good game of one-on-one rugby, too, so we spent a lot of time playing her and trying to beat her. We never did, not even when we were two on one.”

“Really?”

Wow. Even then, I realized how absolutely awful I was being. If I had been in a conversation class and was graded on tonight, I would’ve failed. Awfully. Probably gotten the first grade lower than a T, knowing me.

“Yeah – she may be pushing her thirties, but she’s still got it,” said James proudly. “When you live out in the country, there’s nothing much you can do except get your rugby on.”

“Mmm.”

Then, because I felt bad – “I am rubbish at rugby. It’s a very difficult game, isn’t it?”

“It sort of is, but that’s only because it’s a little rough. Otherwise, it’s really fun,” said James. “Maybe I’ll teach you some time.”

“Maybe.” I made sure to sound noncommittal. “I didn’t do much sport-wise while I was off. Unless shopping with Alice can be considered a sport – which it jolly well ought to be.”

James laughed. “How bad could it be?”

“You haven’t tried it,” I said. “Alice can be really intense when she wants to be. This summer, she was on the look-out for these boots she saw last year while shopping with me. She couldn’t get them because she didn’t have the money at the time, and then afterwards, they weren’t available anymore. But she is still determined to have them. I don’t even know how many boot shops I went to with her trying to find those damn boots.”

I stuttered all this kind of fast. I kept rubbing my stomach and the itch on my arm got worse. I probably looked like a mad-woman; but James ignored that, if he noticed at all, and laughed appreciatively.

“That’s interesting,” he said. “So is shopping for boots all you did, or did you do anything else worth sharing?”

“I celebrated my sister’s birthday and Livvy redid her underwear stock,” I said.

“Livvy…?” James took a second to work this one out. I scratched my arm for that itch again. Then it came to him.

“Oh, you mean Olivia, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, who else?”

“Sorry,” he said. “She’s always been Olivia for me. Never Livvy.”

“Not for me,” I said lamely. “Nope…”

We paused awkwardly there for a moment, but it seemed to me that James was determined to carry on the conversation somehow or another, regardless of how poorly I cooperated. That was fine with me. Even if I wasn’t freaking out about my homework, I would still not have known what to say for him and his leadership in the matter made it easier for me to figure out how to guide the conversation.

From there, James told me about why Sirius has recently started calling Remus “Pookie” (it’s a long, strange, twisted story I won’t get into) and how Peter accidentally half-severed off his right toe while making marshmallows in Sirius’s fireplaces (another long, strange, twisted story I won’t get into) and I gratefully followed along.

It wasn’t hard – all I had to do was gasp and giggle in the right places – and the conversation tottered along, even with my inattention hindering its progress. James was very self-assured and undoubtedly had some interesting stories to tell about his holidays (none of mine, even the interesting ones, came anywhere close) and he was more than happy to share them with me, babbling on at ease about something or another.

I was fine. I’d like to think I got better as we progressed, talking more and taking control of my rebellious organs. He made it easier for me to forget about my dreaded homework. I faltered a little – of course – but it wasn’t anything overt or ridiculous or anything. I didn’t fall on my face or accidentally turn his hair blue, which I did do once in fourth year. I was fine. I was even kind of relaxed, natural.

Or, rather, I was…until the end of the patrol.

By ten thirty, we were both tired and more than ready to go to bed. Fine. That’s natural. We had talked (i.e. James had talked) ourselves through this and our first long patrol was done. We checked in with the other prefects by McGonagall’s office again, making sure there were no problems, and then we dispersed to our dormitories for some rest – or, in my case, homework.

My stomach knot tightened again as I walked down the corridor, slowly closing the space between myself and the things I don’t want to do, and I could feel the happiness flowing out of me like helium from a dying balloon. I really didn’t want to work.

James walked with me since our portraits are down the hall from each other. He whistled as he went, but I didn’t say anything. I was exhausted and definitely not in a sociable mood. I tend to get manic during the school year, in case that wasn’t obvious enough. The itch in my arm hadn’t gone away. I kept scratching at it until my skin turned red and I had to stop.

When we arrived at my portrait (which comes up first) I yawned and stared unhappily at the bowl of cherries that marked my entrance. I gave it my password so that it could open up and then I turned to James, who was loitering by my portrait and watching me.

“Well…good night, James,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

James continued to watch me, acting like I hadn’t said anything at all. There was something murky and complicated about the way he gazed at me and didn’t say anything, after the abundant chatter he had put through my ears tonight.

It disconcerted me, to say the least, and I was about to flee through the open portrait, when suddenly—

“Lily, do you want this to work?” he inquired.

I stopped dead and blinked a couple of times. I had heard him perfectly well – his tone was clear and candid and confident and utterly unmistakable – but I still said, “Excuse me?”

“I asked, do you want this to work?” he repeated, his voice the same, as though he understood why I needed to hear him say this again.

“Do I want…what to work?” I was almost afraid of the answer he might give.

“Us,” he said simply.

I stared. This slightly annoyed him.

“C’mon, Lily, you’re a smart girl, I know you know what I’m talking about,” he said. “I’m not a complete moron. I saw what you were doing all evening. You were nervous. You were freaking out. You could barely keep your end of our conversation up. I think it was because of me.”

I remember thinking, Well, not entirely…

“I…I…” I was lost for words. I knew what I wanted to convey – that it wasn’t all him, it was my regular life too – but I couldn’t say it.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I get it. I know you and I have this weird thing between us, this history, but I thought we were over it. Sixth year went all right, didn’t it? I want this year to be all right too. I want us to get along.”

“We are getting along,” I mumbled babyishly.

“Yeah…but not well,” he said. “So can we act normal around each other and put past events behind us? Stop acting like this is a punishment and do what we’re supposed to do?”

“So you want to be friends?” I found myself asking him.

He considered. “Yes,” he said. “I guess I do.”

Friends. Wow. In that context, it felt like the strangest idea ever conceived by man. James and I being friends. Not acquaintances, not fellow Heads, but friends. Us. Friends.

I suppose I looked rather freaked by this, because James quickly added, “If that’s a problem, I mean, we can figure something else out…”

“No, no, it’s okay,” I said. “We can be friends. I want to be friends.”

“Look, I’m going to be very honest with you for a sec,” James said, eyes flashing in a way I have never really seen before. “I know I’m not usually the responsible one here. I know you don’t enjoy being around me and that it’s awkward being friends with someone like me. I never wanted to be the Head Boy, but I’m here now, and I figure, it’s easier if we get this out of our way from the start so there aren’t any issues down the road.”

“You’re right,” I said. But I was too dumbfounded to say anything else.

“This isn’t an ideal arrangement,” he continued. “But I desperately want to make this work out for the better.”

“Me too,” I said, fighting to regain a proper voice in this new development. “I get what you mean. I also want it to work and I…tonight hasn’t been a good night.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “I wasn’t sure how it was going to go and actually, it went better than I thought it would.”

“Your standards must’ve been low,” I remarked.

“Maybe,” he said, “but I am willing to start our entire relationship over and get a fresh start. I mean…I’m not the same guy you’ve always known. Things are different now. After these next few months, we’re going to graduate from here and you’re never going to see me again. I want to go knowing that you and I are okay; that, if nothing else, we can leave here as friends.”

I felt a slight smile on my lips in response to the earnestness of his face, that face I’ve known so well for so long. “I can shake on that,” I said.

“To being friends,” said James, putting his hand out.

“To being friends,” I reiterated, putting my hand in his and shaking it firmly.

James’s smile was bigger than mine. “All right,” he said. “Thanks, Lily. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night,” I said, waving to him.

He waved back and walked back down the corridor, his steps cautiously measured. It was as though he didn’t want me to get an idea of his emotions by the way he moved – even though he was giving away as much right now.

I then turned on my heel and climbed into my dormitory, feeling as though an enormous gong had been hit in my ears, the reverberations tolling through my body like it was nobody’s business.

At once, I got this diary out and began to write about the experience; but even as I narrated how it happened, the strangest feelings come back to my stomach.

They’re heavier than my fear of working, but at the same time, they are similar. He made me nervous. He did. So much had gone wrong, or weird, or totally off-track between us – it was impossible not to feel ill-at-ease when he approached me and said something to me and expected me to respond.

And besides that, he was different now. He wasn’t the guy I’ve always known. I mean, he kind of is, of course, but there’s a lot about him that has changed significantly.

He’s older. He’s far more intellectually mature than he was when I last had a real conversation with him. He’s not the guy that tortured my childhood best friend by the lake in fifth year. He’s…calmer. Sweeter. He really does want to make us work.

There is too much in me to coherently pen down on these mere pages. That’s the truth of the matter. I’m searching for the words in my head, trying to find a way to explain how this person who is not the person I thought he was is affecting me, but it’s next to impossible.

It’s a feeling I know, but a feeling I don’t; like those two ideas mated and had a child, the foreign thing brooding inside of me that tugs me in a million directions. It’s intimate, but oddly cavernous, like only I know it, but it renders me hollow, confused. It befuddles me, takes away my sense of control, and I don’t know what to make of my situation.

The frenzy I felt upon coming back in here and writing about this latest development has come back to haunt me. I don’t think I can write anymore. I’m sure this will all look better in the morning – at least, that’s what Alice always says – and I’m sure this Let’s Be Friends policy will work out spectacularly, but for now, I need to go wallow in my misery.

Plus, I still have that homework to do; and I’m pushing eleven o’clock.

I wish myself luck with the rest of my life.

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A/N: The review button is still right down there. Always has been, always (hopefully) will be.