Proving Me Wrong

PROVING ME WRONG

LAST CHAPTER:-

"Home-life?"

Beads of cold sweat ran down his face as he contemplated what this meant.

At that moment, James felt his world crash around him. And at that moment he knew...

Things would never be the same again.

CHAPTER 7

"Axis"

As soon as Lily said her piece, she had only one objective, "Run."

The calm exterior she had retained in the trophy room was deteriorating. Tears were threatening to spill again for the fourth time that night. Yes, she had been counting. Somewhere underneath the shame, agony and fear, Lily had remembered her vow to never cry in front of a Marauder. Now, she had not only broken that vow, but obliterated it.

She passed through dark corridors without lighting her wand, walked up staircases without checking if there was a trick step, and didn't even flinch when she heard the ominous meow of a cat. Lily stopped and looked straight into the lamp-like eyes of Mrs. Norris. Lily's own eyes looked dangerous, and the green pigment had deepened to almost black. The scrawny feline opened its mouth to emit another fateful call when Lily pulled out her wand and whispered, "Silencio," before continuing on her way.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, she was sure it would wake up the whole castle. Lily was furious with herself, how could she have let something like this happen? It was all her fault, why didn't she just lock the damn door? Why? She might as well have just invited James Potter to sleepover at her house some night!

Calm down, Lily told herself, he doesn't know what happened to you, he thinks you were only attacked by a student. As she thought this, Lily's heart sank, but she thought nothing of it.

Lily was mentally thanking God for giving her a quick mind, otherwise she would never have thought of a way to keep Potter quiet. She had given him a challenge, one that he couldn't refuse. What was she saying? James Potter didn't refuse any challenge, whether it was fitting 20 chocolate frogs inside his mouth at the one time, or persuading a previously unattainable girl to go out with him.

That is what really disgusted Lily about James Potter; he looked at girls as objects, not people. On his list of possessions, girlfriends always came in just below his broomstick, and that would never change.

Lily had been so busy thinking about Potter that she didn't even notice she was standing outside the portrait to the dorm. The boy and girl in the picture looked as though they were sleeping, but Lily knew better. The paintings in this castle were too nosy for their own good.

Lily cleared her throat, and said quietly, "I know you're awake, stop pretending. Get up and let me in."

The two teens continued to feign sleep; Lily's next words came out in a growl, "Now."

The boy jumped up and began straightening his robes while the girl 'yawned' behind him. "Pas-?"

"Cum tacent, clamant," said Lily, cutting the boy off.

The portrait swung forwards and Lily crawled through it slowly, biting her lip as her back burned. She passed the open bathroom door, and couldn't bear to look. There was a draught coming in from the corridor on the other side, but Lily continued on, despite her shaking. She walked gingerly up the stairs to her bedroom and when she reached it, Lily collapsed onto her bed, totally exhausted from the night's events. Before she fell into another troubled sleep, she pointed her wand at the oak door and cast every single locking charm she knew.

It seemed as if Lily's hopes of this year being her best had been dashed tonight. Her only hope now was that Potter hadn't changed, and acted like his usually competitive self, taking up the challenge. She hoped he'd prove her wrong.

But what Lily didn't know, as she buried herself under the blankets, was that that night James Potter had changed.

***

James opened one bleary eye, and at once put a hand up to block out the sunlight that was pouring through the windows. After a moment he realised that he was on the couch in the Heads' common room. He had been lying in a very awkward position, leaving his neck incredibly stiff and sore.

Sleep had not totally left him as he stumbled into the bathroom. Without his glasses on everything was blurred, so he had to squint whilst walking to try and locate the sink. When his eyes came to rest on the bathroom wall James stopped dead.

There was something on the wall which contrasted greatly with the pearly white of the tiles. James closed his eyes and opened them to their fullest extent. Yes, there was no mistaking the deep red hue.

Blood. Evans's blood. Smeared at the bottom of the wall, exactly where Evans had sat the previous night. Exactly where her back had made contact with the solid tiles.

Then the memories of last night came flooding back.

He had been hoping that it was just a dream, albeit a very realistic dream, but just a figment of his imagination nonetheless. He wanted to wake up to find Evans as annoyingly perfect as ever and to continue on with his relatively problem-free life. But the smeared blood on the bathroom wall had put an end to that, it wasn't a dream, it was real.

James's stomach churned as he thought back to what Evans had unknowingly admitted in the trophy room. He couldn't ignore what she had told him, it wasn't something James could easily forget.

What should I do? Tell someone? Not a teacher, definitely not.

James had enough experience of teachers to know that no matter how much they said you could tell them anything, they lied. This was something you couldn't even mention to an authority figure, let alone run to them telling tales. And although James was friends with Dumbledore, Evans would surely kill him if he went to the headmaster.

But who then? A Marauder?

James's three best friends all disliked Evans, but he was the one who had hated her. Had? James wondered. When did it become past tense? I do hate her...

If James told Sirius, the hyperactive young man would most likely ambush Evans outside a classroom and give her a bear hug. He knew first-hand what it was like to be hated by your family. But from what Sirius had told James of life at 12 Grimmauld Place, he had never been physically harmed by any family member, no matter how much they loathed him.

If James told Peter, he wouldn't get any real advice what to do. Peter couldn't think for himself, in his mind whatever James said was right and anything else was complete codswallop. In his fifth year, James had loved Peter's reverence for him, but now it was just creepy.

Telling Remus would be the best option. Remus was always honest, brutally honest at times, but that's what James needed right now. Remus would know what to do...

James washed his face quickly and ran up to his room. He pulled on some clothes, and then after finding his glasses on the coffee table, headed for the Gryffindor common room. James wondered if Evans had got back all right last night, but he'd find out at breakfast. He went through the door with the lion head handle, closing it softly behind him.

Remus was always the first one up, so James sat down in one of the squashy armchairs to wait for him. Looking around the room he noticed that there was still a Head Boy Potter banner still hanging above the portrait hole, the photo of James on the banner was currently messing up his hair.

James heard movement from above, hopefully it was Remus. The sound footsteps reached his ears and then, Sirius appeared at the foot of the stairs. He was still dressed in his pyjamas, and was in the process of getting his socks on.

James sighed, disappointed, he really needed to talk to Remus.

Sirius looked up and grinned, "Prongs! What are you doing up so early? I hope you're not going 'head boy' on me, oh wait, you already have!" Sirius laughed at his own joke and dropped into an armchair opposite James.

"I-uh- wanted to talk to Moony," mumbled James, looking at his feet.

Sirius clutched his heart and put on a girly voice, "That hurt James. That really hurt. So, what? Do I mean nothing to you? I am just some piece of trash you think you can throw away?"

"Well, Padfoot," came a quiet voice from the stairs, "when you mention it, you do have a trash-like quality," Remus Lupin had a thoughtful expression on his face, but after a few seconds, he smiled. He was fully dressed in his school robes with his bag slung over his shoulder.

Sirius stood up and still in the same high-pitched voice said, "Well, Moony, you can have him," he turned to James, "I'm too good for you," before flicking his hair and marching over to the portrait hole. He crawled out, chuckling madly.

As Sirius left, James remembered something about last night. Evans told him to prove her wrong and not tell anyone. Damn, how am I going to get out of that one? James thought.

A little voice inside his head spoke; you could just prove her right and tell Remus.

James thought about this, but then came to his senses, hell no! I'm not letting her win, I'm going to prove her wrong, even if it's the last thing I do.

Remus watched his friend with great amusement, he seemed to be having a mental debate with himself, and the werewolf was curious to know what about.

"Prongs? Prongs? Prongs!"

James looked up, "Yeah, what is it Moony?" he asked distractedly.

"Did you want to talk to me about something?" Remus asked, surveying his friend carefully.

"Uh...no, no, Moony, it's all right, thanks." James wasn't going to tell, he would have to figure out this mess himself.

Remus continued to watch James, something was off. "You're sure?" he asked again.

"Oh yeah, definite. Coming to breakfast?" James got up and walked towards the portrait hole. Remus wasn't satisfied, but he would leave it for now.

He followed James to the exit, and as his friend climbed through the hole, Remus asked, "How's Evans this morning?"

James's head collided with the back of the portrait, did Moony know? James knew that werewolf hearing was quite superior to that of a normal human, but he couldn't have heard them all the way from the trophy room, could he?

Rubbing his head, James jumped out of the now open portrait hole and into the corridor.

"Wh-wh-what are you talking about Moony?" asked James, failing to hide the worry in his voice.

"The itching hex, of course," said Remus, now standing beside him, "What else would I be talking about?"

At the words itching hex, James's face darkened. Evans had already been in excruciating pain, and he had increased it. God, I am an idiot, he thought. He didn't care for Evans, and he certainly didn't like her, but he would never wish that kind of pain upon anyone.

"Nothing," replied James bitterly, walking towards the staircase.

Remus ran to catch up, something was definitely wrong, and he was going to find out.