The Transfiguration Assignment

Chapter Five

"Yewer! You're going to have to learn to cover all three hoops at the same time if we're going to win against Ravenclaw--Hoth! Do stop showing off for your girlfriend down in the stands, it's making me queasy just looking at you!"

"Oh, lay off Potter! This isn't a real practice anyway!"

James chuckled as he soared through the air, the wind whipping his cloak behind him and the sun shining happily as it descended down in a swirl of twilight color. The Pitch was empty except for the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team (and, of course, Preston Hoth's girlfriend, who followed him everywhere), who were lazily flying around, playfully tossing the Quaffle to one another rather than having a serious practice. The first Quidditch game was coming up in November, and as Quidditch Captain, James knew quite well how hard they had to train, but today he'd decided to give them a break.

He was in too good a mood to take anything, even Quidditch, seriously.

It was Monday evening and two days ago he'd had his first meeting with Lily about their Transfiguration assignment. It had taken off with a rocky start, but had smoothed out once they'd finally decided on a topic--or really, once he had finally persuaded Lily that doing Animagi would be the best topic for them to choose.

She had been reluctant at first to acknowledge that any idea he could come up with could even be deemed worth thinking over, but eventually he'd made her see reason. Doing Animagi would be easy (at least for him). He knew a ton about it (obviously), it was a bit of a compliment to McGonagall (alright, they were basically sucking up, but that couldn't hurt much, could it?), and it really was a fascinating subject. The only problem was that James was at a loss as how to explain his vast knowledge about Animagi. He wasn't quite sure Lily would believe him if he told her that he'd mastered the technique, and even if she did believe him, what would stop her from letting lose the secret and getting him in trouble with the Ministry? They weren't exactly the "best-o'-friends."

As the bright orange light in the sky melted into vivid scarlet, dusky violet, and finally glowing blue, James landed softly on the Pitch and called the rest of the team to him, congratulating some on good flying and teasing others about their lazy behavior. It had been a good, restful practice and had only improved James's mood, which his teammates, apart from being surprised, were grateful for, and took this unexplained gift without question.

The team was heading off to the locker room to shower and change when a loud call came from across the field. They paused to get a better look at the person approaching and James was surprised, a bit delighted, and more uneasy than he would have admitted at the sight. What was Lily doing...?

"Potter!" Lily called again, strolling toward him with ease across the grassy Pitch. A frustrated glimmer was in her emerald eyes.

He stopped walking and waited for her to catch up as the rest of the team, shooting them both curious looks, continued on to the locker room.

"What is it?" James asked when she got within a few meters. He held his broom leaning up against his shoulder. Suddenly aware of how wind-blown his hair was, James hoped to Merlin that Lily wouldn't comment on it. At least she couldn't blame him for messing it up on purpose.

"I..." Lily paused, and looked uncertain as to why she was there in the first place. "Just wanted to make sure you remembered we had planned to work on our Transfiguration assignment tonight."

James nodded. "I did. I just ended practice. It's only about 6:30, yeah?"

Lily nodded.

"Well then, we have lots of time to work, right?"

Lily nodded again, and James wondered if this was the only reason she'd come to see him on the Pitch.

"Right," James continued, when Lily didn't say anything more. "Er...Well, I have to go to the locker room to shower and change, and then we can start working. Want to meet in the Heads' common room at seven?"

Lily nodded again, looking down and fiddling with her bag. "That's fine."

"Could you stop by the Great Hall and pick something up for me to eat on your way to the common room?"

Lily's head shot up and she regarded him with narrowed eyes. Apparently finding his request decent, she sniffed and replied, "I suppose I could, but only because it will stop you from lolly-gagging on your way back up to the common room."

Pursing her lips, she stuffed a note in his hands. "From McGonagall," she said, not elaborating. And with that she turned on her heel and swept across the Quidditch Pitch and back up to the castle, leaving behind a sweaty and confused James Potter.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Lily wrenched open the main door to the castle and slammed it behind her, determined not to blush. Ten minutes ago she had entered the Great Hall, ready for dinner and wondering if Potter would remember to come to their research session when McGonagall had appeared out of nowhere and asked her to deliver a note to him. In a stagger of surprise and not having the perfect excuse at the time, Lily had agreed and found herself halfway down to the Pitch before she had even realized she'd left the Great Hall. Why was McGonagall sending Potter notes, anyway? And by student messenger? She could have just as easily sent an owl . . . At least, Lily figured, she could remind Potter about their research session that night while she delivered the message. She didn't want another episode like in the library. Then again, perhaps she had wanted him to forget the meeting so she could yell at him again. Maybe she had wanted to get in an argument with him; it was true they upset her more than she wanted to admit, but arguing with James Potter could sometimes be...almost...enjoyable...

Entering the Great Hall, Lily headed straight for the Gryffindor table, wondering what she should pick out for Potter's dinner. She half wanted to bring him back something disgusting, just as punishment for him sending her to be his servant, but she decided against it. He seemed to know a bunch about Animagi, and if she needed his help later with the project--and that was a very strong if--she wouldn't want to give him something to hold against her now.

"Hey, Lily," Meryl called from down the table.

Lily walked over to join her and plopped down wearily in the seat beside her friend. All the homework the professors had been giving lately was wearing her thin, especially with occasional Head duties, her Advanced Charms study group, the Slug Club, and now the Transfiguration assignment with Potter. Yawning, Lily started piling her plate up with food. She had shared a dorm room with Meryl for six years and this was the first year they had been apart.

"Where were you? You have break right before dinner, right?" Meryl chewed her salad, looking at her friend.

"I was down on the Pitch, discovering if Potter would remember to come to our research session tonight," Lily sniffed. In response to Meryl's questioning look, she added, "McGonagall made me deliver a note to him--What is that?" She pointed to a large bowl in the middle of the table.

Meryl wrinkled her nose. "Colcannon. I don't like it much--my grandmum makes it all the time. It's kind of like cabbage and mashed potatoes."

Lily turned her attention to a plate of food that was practically untouched. There looked to be a number of large brown round things on it that expelled a rather spicy mincemeat like scent, rather like chili. "What's that?"

Meryl made a strange face. "Haggis."

Lily recoiled at once. "What is this: Scottish Monday? Is there a holiday I wasn't informed about?"

Meryl laughed into her pumpkin juice and sprayed the fourth year boy who was sitting across the table from them. He gave them both a sneer and got up at once, grabbing his bag and stomping out of the Great Hall like a drag queen.

"Maybe he was Scottish," Meryl said. "You shouldn't insult other people's county's native cooking, Lily."

Lily stabbed a carrot with her fork. "I think the reason he left was to get away from your dribbling mouth." Chewing the carrot thoughtfully, she asked, "What should I get Potter for dinner?"

Meryl nearly choked on her pumpkin juice again. "What?" Her eyes were wide.

"He asked me to pick him up something to eat while he showered. Then we can get down to work as soon as he comes to the common room." Lily smiled mischievously, her green eyes twinkling as she rethought her idea from before. "Should I bring him some haggis, do you think?"

Meryl glanced at the large platter of food. "Is that a good idea?"

Lily tossed her hair, and transferred one of the sheep stomach-covered haggis-filled spheres onto an empty plate. "He said bring him dinner. He didn't specify what he wanted." And in response to a look Meryl gave her, Lily said, "How do you know that he doesn't like haggis?"

"Because I've never met someone who did."

"Why would there be a food that no one likes?" Lily asked pointedly.

"There's lots of food no one likes," Meryl said importantly. "Bubblegum flavored otterpops, canned green beans, rubbery, greasy pizza . . . see, there's lots of stuff."

Lily rolled her eyes. Picking up the plate with the haggis, she dumped some salad next to it and stood up. "It's nearly seven," she said. "I have to get going."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

James brushed his damp hair out of his eyes and strolled down the corridor, his stomach grumbling loudly. He wondered what Lily had gotten him for dinner. Quidditch could really give a boy an appetite. Frowning slightly, James thought that it probably hadn't been the greatest idea he'd ever had, but decided that whatever it was she'd picked up for him, he could always nip down to the kitchens and grab something else later.

Turning the corner, James nearly bumped into Remus, who was coming from the library, his bag bulging with books. It was only a few days after the full moon and Remus had seen better days. Dark shadows lay under his eyes and his face was deathly pale with a rather pinched look, something James had grown accustom to over the years.

"Alright, Moony?" he asked. He had meant to visit his friend in the hospital wing on Saturday, but between arguing with Evans, tutoring some second years who were utterly failing Transfiguration, and completing the trunk loads of homework his teachers had assigned him, he hadn't found the time.

"Yeah," Remus responded, adjusting the handle of his bag. He sighed wearily, squinting out the window. "I'm as good as can be expected. October's always the worst. On your way somewhere?"

James smiled. "Yeah. Off to a study session with Evans. We're working on our Transfiguration Assignment." He gestured at Moony's bag. "Are those all . . ."

Nodding, Remus grinned. "Yeah. Orion Muws isn't exactly reliable, is he?"

James chuckled. "Sorry you got stuck with such a rotten partner."

"Sorry you got stuck with the girl your heart's pining over," Remus countered, a knowing look in his eyes. "What are you doing your project on, anyway?"

James shook his head. "Ah, I can't tell you Moony, old pal. It's a secret." He tapped his nose. "If I told you I'd have to kill you--otherwise Evans might kill me. And then where would I be?"

"In the ground?"

"Doing the project on my own," James corrected.

"Yeah," Remus agreed. He sighed. "Well, I have to get off to the common room. I can't work in the library. There's a ton of second year Ravenclaws that took over the Herbology section. Must be some extra credit or something, but they're being awfully loud, so if your meeting with Evans is there, you'd better find somewhere else to work."

"We're in the Heads' common room," James said. "And I'd better get going, or she will kill me."

Remus smiled. "See you later then."

"Yeah."

Continuing down the corridor, James's thoughts were still on his friend. Now that he thought about it, the October moon always was the worst one. Although the one last June had been bad--but that wasn't necessarily the moon's fault . . . more his own friends' stupidity.

The memories of that day were never pleasant. They had prepared, as usual, for the full moon, had snuck down to the Whomping Willow, and everything had been going perfectly normal. Until Sirius had made some stupid-ass comment about an unexpected visitor and then everything had gone downhill. James had rushed to the opening of the secret passage, but Snape had been already halfway down the tunnel, sneering at him and laughing about how he was going to get them expelled for being out of bounds, probably drinking and fooling around.

And the little shit-head hadn't listened to him.

James had tried to warn him, had tried to threaten him, had tried to agree to give up and go to the headmaster's office right away and turn himself in for "being out of bounds," but Snape hadn't listened, and had chosen instead to nearly get himself killed.

James could still see the look in Snape's eyes when he dreamed sometimes. The horror, the fear, the disgust, the confusion. If Sirius hadn't fought Moony back in his dog form when James had pushed Snape back down the tunnel, they all could have been in serious trouble: with the Headmaster, with the school, and with the law. More than one could have died that night.

And Sirius had been stubborn for weeks after. He hadn't seen that it had been a foolish and stupid thing to do. Sure, they all disliked Snape. They made fun of him and taunted him, and sometimes hated him, but he could have died. Murder is a lot more serious than a prank that lands you in detention for a week, and James had had a hard time convincing Sirius of the truth of it.

It had nearly ripped apart their friendship. Remus wasn't talking to anybody, Sirius wasn't talking to Remus or James, James wasn't talking to Sirius . . . Peter hadn't really done anything, he'd been in the Shrieking Shack the whole time, but the shock of being in the middle of a fight between your three best friends had made him scarce for awhile. It seemed like the end of the Marauders.

But Sirius had finally seen reason, albeit a bit reluctantly. Running away from his house that summer had seemed to pull back the film over his eyes, and he'd been ready to apologize and they started to patch things up. Remus was still a bit short with him occasionally, but James could see the logic in that, and didn't sympathize with Padfoot when he complained about Remus dwelling on the past. Hell, if he was a werewolf and had come so close to killing someone, he'd be slow to forgive the person who thought up the "joke" too.

The experience had taught James to value his friends. In all reality, school was boring without them. And sharing a dorm for the rest of June had been a torture every minute. He could see that his friends were flawed; that Remus was hurting, that Peter was scared, that Sirius was confused. It had sobered him up and he didn't see the need to rely on pranks so much for fun anymore. Especially since Sirius's last "prank" had turned out to be such a horrible mistake. James still felt ashamed when he remembered the disappointed look in Professor Dumbledore's eyes . . .

"Hey, sonny, you going to stand there all night or are you going to give me the password?"

James blinked and found himself in front of the portrait to the Heads' common room. Muttering the password, memories from the past summer still flitting around in his mind, he walked into the portrait hole.

When no one jumped out at him or screeched his name from one of the armchairs by the blazing fire, James felt a bit uneasy. His reminiscing in the corridor had cost him precious time, and glancing at his watch, James saw to his utter dread, that it was 7:23.

So much for being on time.

It didn't take him long to spot Lily, her red hair giving her away immediately. What did surprise him, however, was the fact that she was resting her head on one of her books, her hand still clenching her quill, and was fast asleep.

A plate of food steamed near her head, but James didn't notice it. He only had eyes for Lily. Her face was soft and relaxed in sleep, and James imagined her waking up and smiling at him, a warm look in her eyes. Her curly hair was spread across the table, showing the back of her neck, and he had the sudden urge to bend down and kiss that delicate pale curve. Instead, he gently shook her by the shoulder in attempt to wake her up.

Murmuring faintly, Lily blinked open her sparkling eyes and looked up at James. Sitting up, she patted her hair and blushed.

"What time is it?" she croaked, her voice hoarse from sleeping.

James thought idly thought she was adorable as he checked his watch.

"Around 7:30," he answered sheepishly.

But Lily didn't seem to mind terribly that he was late.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep," she said, clearing her throat and squinting at him. His hair was wet and she could see water droplets on his dark eyelashes... "Erm...should we get started?" Lily blinked sleepily and stifled a yawn. She hadn't meant to fall asleep...she was just so tired lately...

James bit his lip and sat down next to her. "If you're so tired--"

"I'm perfectly fine," Lily cut him off. "I just took a little nap."

Giving her a knowing look, James frowned. "You're tired. Go to bed."

"But it's only 7:30!" Lily exclaimed. "And we have to work on our project. We've barely gotten anything done and it's been three days!"

James shook his head. "It's okay. We'll do it tomorrow. Go to bed, really. You're worn out." And when she gave him a threatening look and started to object, he said, "I insist. I can do some alone tonight."

His unexpected offer hung in the air, and Lily considered it for a moment, before being distracted by James's discovery of his food.

"Is this haggis?!" he exclaimed, grabbing his plate and inspecting it closely.

"Um...yes, it is," Lily replied slowly. His offer to work alone tonight while she caught up on sleep made her feel a bit guilty for getting him food no one in their right mind would like.

"But I love haggis!" he declared.

Well, that explained a few things right there, didn't it?

Lily shook her head in disbelief, staring at him. Perhaps he was joking, she thought. He was, after all, extremely hungry after Quidditch practice.

"What?" James asked, starting to eat his dinner. "I do. Our cook makes the best kind, but Hogwarts's can't be that bad, can it?" He grinned at her. "Have you never had it before?"

"No," Lily replied shortly, waving away the fork-full he had thrust at her. "And I don't intend to. So if your offer still stands," she glanced at the haggis, a look of mild distaste on her face, "then I think I'll go to bed now."

She stood up and started gathering her things together, this time not disguising the powerful yawn that burst from her. She headed to her room and looked over her shoulder at James, who was eating his haggis and flipping through one of the books in his bag, occasionally noting something with his quill.

She paused by the door and admired his profile for a moment before she realized what she was doing. Admiring? Potter?. . . But in all honesty, he was quite good looking. Despite her annoyance at him for purposely messing up his already untidy hair, he did have good hair. Those hazel eyes were fathomless and sometimes she felt uncomfortable when he stared at her in class. And after his shower he had smelled so nice and clean . . .

"Good--good night, James," she called. Was she bushing? What was wrong with her?

He turned around in his seat, a smile on his face. "Good night, Lily."