Commentarius

Tuesday, September 2nd, the Great Hall

There are morning people... and then there are the rest of us. The latter group is where I'd place myself. Mornings and me, we don't exactly mesh well together. We just don't get along. We never have, we probably never will. It's no one's fault, really, that's just the way it is.

I do wish someone would inform Emma of this, though, because-- great mate that she is-- she obviously just isn't aware of this mutual dislike that is shared between me and the hours before 10 a.m. On the other hand, perhaps she does know and just doesn't seem to care about my feelings and/or preferences. She just kept on yapping on this morning about 'meeting the new morning with a happy face' and pulling the blankets off my very cold body at a completely ungodly hour when I really should've still been sleeping. Apparently, getting up at an indecent hour somehow leads to meeting the morning with a smile, and not with a yawn, as I previously thought. But either way, I'm almost positive that waking up a non-morning person, such as myself, at 7 a.m. is a severe felony no matter HOW good her intentions were.

So as I sit here, poking at my waffles and tiredly sipping my pumpkin juice, I inform Emma of her committed crime.

"Come off it, Lily," she says. "It's not that early."

Sure, easy for her to say. She likes this sort of thing.

"We need to get our books together anyway," Grace has just informed me, though I KNOW she's just as tired as I am, for her eyelids keep flickering closed when Emma is not looking. Plus, she's just yawned into her oatmeal.

They'll all be sorry when I fall asleep in my waffles and they have to carry me down to the Potions dungeons, all syrupy and sticky. I tell them so.

Emma let's out one of her big, long, never-ending sighs. "Honestly, Lily! If you have enough energy to write away in your diary, I think you have enough energy to stay awake!"

Oh, bugger.

Later, Potions

Why would anyone ever need to learn a SHIVERING potion?

Seriously. Who would ever want to shiver? Does it even have a purpose? When will I ever need to use a Shivering Potion in my entire life? When will anyone? Professor Abbott really needs to get her priorities straight. Does she even CARE that I've been up since seven this morning? I don't have time to deal with this nonsense!

Shivering Potion-

1) Creates shocks of chills to run through drinker's body.
2) Gives drinker... blah blah blah.

NOTE TO SELF: Copy Shivering Potion notes from Emma.

Later, Divination

Why do we even bother with this class? -LE

I don't know. -EV

She's awfully funny, don't you think? -GR

Funny? I was thinking more along the lines of mad as a hatter.

I like her skirt, though.

Here we go again. Quick! Distract her! What do you say we start a list?

Good idea.

Emmeline Vance, Grace Reynolds,
and Lily Evans's list of the Best-Looking,
Single Blokes at Hogwarts School
(With Added Commentary)

1) Amos Diggory - a sexy, 7th-year Hufflepuff who not only is incredibly good looking-- with that sexy light brown hair and those adorable dimples-- but is also a fabulous Quidditch player, with the body to prove it. Need I say more?
EV: This opinion is totally biased, Lily! He is not as perfect as you make him out to be.
GR: Incredibly sexy, though he does have his downsides.
LE: You're all mad. He's perfect.

2) Thomas Dunn - So what if he's a third year? This boy has got MAJOR brownie points in the beauty department. Have you seen his eyes? A picture perfect among all men (or boys).
LE: He's adorable, and not even cocky! A perfect match for any THIRD-YEAR girl's affections.
GR: Forget about the third years! I'd love to find a broom closet with him.
EV: Ignoring Grace's child molesting tactics, I must say that Thomas is not lacking in the looks or the personality department. A fine choice, Gracie.

3) Remus Lupin - Although he is ¼ of the notorious Marauder clan, Remus is an incredibly likeable fellow. His studious habits and occasional mischievous streaks make him a perfect mix of everything. A good catch for any deserving girl.
EV: Remus is my proud choice as he is a mix of everything a girl could want. Besides his sickly habits and his somewhat crude choice in friends, I think you'd find Mr. Wonderful in Mr. Lupin
GR: Oh, I see someone has caught quite a fancy for our friend, Mr. Lupin, eh? That aside, though, not a bad choice. Remus is very cool.
LE: That's so adorable, Em! Remus is not a bad choice. Why don't you two get together and "study" for a bit, hm?

NOTE FROM WRONGLY ACCUSED (EV): I DO NOT FANCY REMUS LUPIN.

4) Sirius Black - Another member of the mischievous Marauders, you can't help but notice Sirius' good looks. We all know he's immature and completely off his rocker, but definitely not lacking in the looks department.
EV: Agreed. Sirius is loony, but not ugly.
GR: I don't think I can respond to this seeing how family (no matter how distant and removed) shouldn't be saying such things about other family members.
LE: This list is strictly for looks and that's why I added Sirius. You cannot deny his handsomeness (or his insanity for that matter).

James Potter - James also belongs to the Marauder clan (what good-looking men they are!) and is an incredibly good-looking male. Not to mention his elite Quidditch skills and unnatural smartness (which rivals that of our very own Ms. Evans), this boy has it all.
EV: Very true. Although a prat at times, you can't fight with James' incredibly handsome features and rowdy sense of humor. Thumbs up!
GR: I love James. In fact, if he weren't SUCH a good mate of mine, I'd make him my lover.
LE: Come on! POTTER? He's such a prat! Besides everyone knows he's practically married to Saunders. They've only been going out and breaking up since third year. You people make me sick.

NOTE TO GIRL IN DENIAL: This is a list strictly for single, GOOD-LOOKING people, and you cannot exclude James Potter from such a list. Besides, James and Elisabeth broke it off ages ago. Everyone knows that.

NOTE TO MENTALLY INSANE: Bugger off.

Later, Dinner in the Great Hall

I love dinner at Hogwarts. Truly, I do.

I mean, when you've had a tough day and everything just seems to be going wrong (so basically every day for me), you always have the nice expectation of dinner ahead of you. You can just sit back, relax, and let it all go.

Of course, my love for Hogwarts dinner might have something to do with my large and abnormal infatuation with rice.

Yes, rice.

I don't really remember when my obsession for rice started, but ever since I was little, it's all I've ever eaten. I remember my grandmum use to make the most delicious rice ever. She'd add all these different herbs and special sauces, which I could always name separately, but would never even think to put together. I use to watch her as she'd mix everything together and it'd sizzle and bubble, but I could never make it myself. After she passed away, Mum and I tried various times to try to copy her rice, but it always tasted horrid. Maybe my grandmum's rice started it all, I'm not really sure.

And do you know what? Hogwarts must have at least three types of rice every night. Yeah, three! What's not to love about that?

AND while you're sitting down at the Gryffindor table, eating your various types of rice and chattering with your mates, you happen to have a perfect view of the Hufflepuff table. This means you also have a perfect view of a certain 7th-year Hufflepuff prefect (and no, I'm not talking about Julie Little).

So as I sit here, eating my rice and watching the Hufflepuff table, I don't have to worry about liar Head Boys and antagonizing roommates, or the fact that I don't have the notes on Shivering Potions because I forgot to ask Emma for her copy. Nope. I can just sit back, relax, and do my two favourite things.

Eat and swoon over Amos Diggory.

Can life GET any better?

Wednesday, September 3rd, Charms Classroom

I hate my life.

I hate my life, and I hate my stupid self-controlled mouth.

If I could go to a mouth store and exchange my mouth for a different one, I would. And I would have to hope that my new mouth wouldn't be as bloody independent as my old mouth was because then I'd be in a whole lot of trouble (plus, I'd probably have to go back to that mouth store and the thought of such a place isn't so appealing to me).

I just don't understand it. What did I ever do to my stupid mouth that would make it so rebellious? I DON'T DESERVE THIS ABUSE! I REALLY DON'T!

I mean, perfect people like Elisabeth Saunders deserve mouths like mine. Not already-failing-in-life, people like me.

If Elisabeth Saunders made a complete fool of herself, almost got kicked out of a very important class, and THEN started bawling her eyes out in front of her (former?)enemy/Head partner/newly-made-transfiguration-tutor, I probably wouldn't even have laughed at her! I probably would've felt pretty bad for the girl, even if she is a total coot. But, no, things like that just don't HAPPEN to Elisabeth Saunders. They happen to people like me. It always has to be me. Always Lily.

This morning started out perfectly fine. In fact, it started out more than fine. I, for once, actually understood a potion. A potion, nevertheless, that I'd forgotten to copy the directions for the previous day! Do you know what an ego boost that is? I'd actually received TOP MARKS on my practical assignment! This is very exciting considering I know that Professor Abbott hates me and would only force herself to give me top marks if my potion was really really brilliant. Who wouldn't be in a good mood after that?

So off I went to Transfiguration in a bright and bubbly mood (something that doesn't happen very often), not even worrying about the fact that I am absolutely APPALLING at Transfiguration and the fact that a lying prat-of-a-Head-Boy-- which whom, by the way, I wasn't ever suppose to talk to again--was seated in back of me, chatting with my mates.

"Settle down, all of you! Take your seats!" Professor McGonagall said at the start of the class. Everyone's chatter instantly died down as their eyes riveted to the professor at the front of the room. "Thank you," McGonagall said as she turned to the chalkboard behind her and began to write.

ORAL ANIMAL TRANSFIGURATION

Ugh. Even writing that now makes me want to die with embarrassment. But in all fairness, I've never had any talent in Transfiguration. I'm brilliant in Charms and do plenty more than the average in Defense, but Transfiguration? Never. I really shouldn't even be in the class. McGonagall never takes anyone who gets under an Exceeds Expectations on their O.W.L.S into her NEWTs classes, and I'm most definitely nowhere near that. However, by some utter miracle, I persuaded McGonagall to take me into the class with the promise to study like mad over the summer and the guarantee that I would improve. I think she only agreed because she has a favouring for me (why she likes me so much, I have absolutely no idea. I mean, if you're going to favour someone, go ahead and pick an extra extraordinary child with endless talents. Why on earth McGonagall chose an ordinary, boring piece of human flesh like me to favour is beyond my comprehension). I was supposed to be studying all summer (which I did... sometimes) and McGonagall would judge my improvement and tell me if I could stay in the class when I returned this term. I was-- and still am-- determined to stay in the class, but things in my life always seem to find ways to mess themselves up. I know Aurors need to know Transfiguration and all, but honestly, if you just don't get it, you just don't get it. Can't they just make an exception for me? I'm sure ONE Auror with no Transfiguration talents would be okay. I can stick with Charms. I can do those.

"All right." McGonagall turned to face the class once again, looking at each of us with her judgmental eyes. I hate it when she does that. "You've all refreshed your summer bound memories of the theory of Animal Transfiguration yesterday and are now going to be performing the spell orally today. Remember to flick your wands in the correct circular motion and to think clearly about changing the spotted lizards in front of you into chickens. Does everyone understand?"

There were small murmurs of consent all through the room. Internally, I began to panic.

"Good," McGonagall nodded curtly. Her eyes flickered towards the back of the classroom. "And I'll be having absolutely no funny business-- Black, Potter, do you understand me?"

Many girls giggled as both Potter and Black nodded innocently. What stupid prats they are.

"Good," McGonagall said again, still eyeing the two boys suspiciously. "You may begin."

Right.

Begin.

Sure.

If only.

I sat there for a few moments, watching Emma turn her lizard easily into a chicken and back again. Then, looking for a bit of sympathy, I turned to Grace, hoping that she may be having even a bit of the difficulty I was, but my search ended in disappointment as Grace had also easily achieved a chicken. A quick look behind us showed me that the two Marauders had also succeeded in transforming their lizards and had moved onto other forms of entertainment. Sirius was now trying to persuade his chicken to attack Potter's, who in turn was prodding his chicken in the opposite direction. I turned cautiously back to my own lizard, looking at it critically. It didn't SEEM too hard. Everyone else could do it, why couldn't I? I could. I totally could.

Merlin, why am I so stupid?

I picked my wand up off my desk, determined to turn that bloody lizard into a chicken at any cost. I checked my notes one last time before attempting the impossible.

"Animus Nero," I said softly, swishing my wand in the appointed pattern. Apparently, though, it wasn't the exact appointed pattern, because instead of a chicken, standing before me was more of a chicken head, a feathery lizard body and a slimy tail. A Chicken-Lizard.

Of course, this wrong transfiguration might not have been so bad, if, naturally, I hadn't created a possessed lizard-chicken that decided it seemed appropriate to make a huge riot.

"CCCUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!" the half-lizard/half-chicken cried out (in an amazingly high volume for such a small animal, by the way). All heads instantly turned my way as the chicken hopped off my desk and started on its desired warpath.

The chaos began when the crazed animal knocked straight into Jervis Rennet's chair, causing poor Jervis to topple over onto Penny O'Jene, who shrieked rather loudly into Jervis's ear. The chicken then made its way onto Tammy Turner's desk, shuffling her parchment and quills in all odd directions, causing Tammy to start yelling obscenities in some other language, which I believe sounded a bit like Mermish. That done, it then decided to parch its ink-stained feet upon Carrie Lloyd's delicate shoulder.

"GET IT OFF! EWWW! GET IT OFF ME!" she'd screamed to her partner, Timmy Ricks, who seemed to find the situation very comical, and was unable to help on account of he was laughing so hard.

At that point the whole class was in complete chaos as my creation bounced from one desk to another, jumping on people, ruining assignments and raging havoc wherever it went. The only one who really seemed to be enjoying the entire fiasco was Sirius, who was loudly proclaiming to his own chicken that it should follow my creation's example. I truly wished the floor would just open up and swallow me whole. I could only imagine how red my face had gotten at that point. The whole time I followed the crazed animal with my eyes, willing myself not to burst out into tears right then and there.

The madness finally came to an end when McGonagall dropped a rather large edition of The Nooks and Crannies of Transfiguration, on top of the chaotic beast. There was a collective sigh that spread throughout the room before the tension rose again and I felt everyone's eyes sway from the then unconscious animal, to its creator.

Me.

"Ms. Evans," McGonagall said quietly, lifting her eyes slowly from the creature to me. "See me after class, please."

Just the look in her eyes-- disappointment, regret-- was enough for me to crack. My whole body quaked with fear and nerves. I nodded, but just barely. I was shaking far too much to do anything more. It was possibly the worst moment of my entire life.

The class calmed down after that. Carrie Lloyd was sent to the girl's lavatory after she'd stopped screaming and McGonagall fixed Jervis Rennet's chair, as well as Kiki Molter's desk. Everyone began recollecting their belongings, which had been thrown in various different places around the classroom as a result of my chicken's rampage.

I just sat there, frozen with worry and shame, watching everyone watch me. There were pitiful smiles and worried glances thrown my way, but I ignored them. I was too busy wallowing in self-pity. I KNEW I should have studied more! I KNEW IT! But no, I just had to watch that show on the telly, or I just had to go see that film, or I just had to take a nap. See what happens when you slack off? I AM UNDOUBTEDLY A FAILURE IN LIFE!

The class was coming to an end and I was most relieved that no other problems had arisen.

"Potter," McGonagall said a few minutes before class ended. "See me after class."

Potter looked up, surprised.

"But I didn't even do anything yet, Professor!" he'd cried, looking towards McGonagall for answers. The fool actually thought he'd get some.

"The fact that you say 'yet' can't mean anything good, now can it, Mr. Potter?" She regarded him suspiciously, her look conveying her distaste at his 'yet'. Potter shrugged, but was obviously still confused.

I instantly started panicking after this little interaction. Had she forgotten about me? Was she going to kick me out of the class with Potter standing RIGHT THERE? Could she possibly be that cruel? McGonagall is strict, but I've never seen her as cruel. And what did Potter do anyway? Couldn't she talk about it at a different time? Say, sometime when, I don't know, I'm NOT there? Did she have any idea what she was doing to me?

Class ended a few minutes later, much to the relief of all inside. Silently, my insides panicking, I watched as everyone except Potter and I began walking slowly out of the classroom, whispering and gossiping about the eventful class. The gossip mill will be flowing freely for quite a while.

"We'll wait for you if you want," Emma offered with a comforting smile, gesturing outside the classroom where she and Grace were willing to wait. I shook my head, still not in full control of my vocal chords.

"Don't worry about it, Lily," Grace said kindly, obviously trying to comfort me as well. "Everyone makes mistakes."

Yes, but not mad-chicken mistakes.

"Are you sure you don't want us to wait?" Emma offered again. "We only have lunch. It's okay if we're a bit late."

Again, I shook my head.

"Okay." Emma sighed lightly, placing a comforting hand upon my shoulder. "We'll see you at lunch, I suppose."

Then she and Grace left, leaving Potter, McGonagall and me the only ones left in the previously filled classroom. I tried to ignore Potter and I looked up expectantly at McGonagall. She was seated at her desk, writing something.

"Wait outside, Potter," she ordered quietly, not even bothering to look up from her writing. I let loose a quick sigh of relief as I realised McGonagall wasn't cruel enough to kick me out in front of him. I watched silently as Potter collected his belongings in an equally silently fashion. His eyes riveted back and forth between McGonagall and me as he gathered up the last of his books. I looked away, not wanting to see the ridicule I would undoubtedly find in his eyes. He exited the classroom a few seconds later. He closed the door behind him.

"Come here, Ms. Evans."

My head snapped back towards McGonagall, my stomach instantly in knots. With some difficulty, I stepped slowly up to her desk, praying to everything and everyone I knew.

"Professor--" I started.

"We had a deal, Ms. Evans," she interrupted me quietly, looking up from her writing for the first time. I cringed, blinking the tears out of my eyes. She looked so disappointed. I wanted to die.

"I know, Professor," I whispered sadly, looking down at my shoes. I couldn't stand to look her in the face any longer.

"I told you that I'd allow you to take my class again this year, and you promised to study and improve. I don't see any improvement, Lily." The instant she called me 'Lily', I knew it was all over. Her tone was quiet, but stern. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on both what she was saying while also trying desperately to keep the wetness out of my eyes. I'd never been more ashamed than I was at that moment.

"I-I know." I swallowed, trying to get rid of the ball of emotion that had wedged itself in my throat. "And I did study, Professor! Honestly, I did!"

"I'm not saying you didn't, Ms. Evans, but I just don't see how I can keep you in this class if you can't improve."

"But it's only the second day of classes, Professor! I'm just a little out of practice." My voice was cracking with each word. She was going to kick me out, I just knew she was. There was nothing I could do about it. Why was I even trying to fight it?

"It's only going to get harder from here, Lily," she told me softly. "All this is just very basic review. Do you honestly want to have to go through another demonstration like this, again?"

I shook my head, waiting for the worst.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I truly am, but I swear I'll try harder! I'll study all the time! Just please let me stay in the class! I need to stay in this class." I knew it was a hopeless case, but I was desperate. McGonagall sighed deeply and my insides began to crumble. "Please," I begged, trying one last time to plead my hopeless case. I stood there silently, just waiting for the words... dreading the words...

"I'm not going to take you out of the class, Ms. Evans."

I froze, the hysterical words of a prepared argument fresh on my lips as my heart began beating wildly in my chest. Did she say what I thought she'd said? "I-I-- what?"

McGonagall's cool gaze flickered up to me. "I'm not going to take you out of my class," she repeated.

She's... she's not...

YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Oh, thank you, Professor!" I cried happily, forgetting myself in the heat of the moment and nearly throwing my arms around the older woman. "Thank you so much! I'll get better, I truly will! I'll study constantly and I'll improve and I'll...oh, thank you!" I was so relieved, I could hardly catch my breath. I made a vow right then and there that I would study harder, no matter what. After all, no one would want an Auror who failed Transfiguration, right? I still had this small pit in my stomach, though. What if I couldn't? What if, no matter how much studying I did, I just didn't get it? What would I do then? I tried to shove those unsettling thoughts out of my head. I was still in the class and that's all that mattered.

"I'll make sure of it, Ms. Evans," McGonagall told me sternly, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I glanced at her, confused. "What do you mean?" I asked.

McGonagall began shuffling things around on her desk as she calmly explained, "I'm assigning you a tutor, Ms. Evans. You'll meet with this tutor once a week for at least an hour. Study for as long as you deem necessary on your own, but if I don't see any improvement, I'm going to have to take you out of my class. Is that clear?"

I nodded.

A tutor.

Hm.

I've never had a tutor before. Who would it be? What would it be like? Could they actually help me?

"Potter!"

McGonagall's yells snapped me out of my reverie. My eyes flew to the opening door behind me. Potter reentered the classroom, still donning a confused look.

I glanced towards McGonagall uncertainly. Was she done with me? Should I leave now? But who was my tutor? When was I meeting with them? She didn't seem to be giving out any of the answers. I turned back to James, who had come up towards McGonagall's desk and was now standing next to me.

"Whatever it is, Professor, I didn't do it," James insisted instantly, looking seriously at McGonagall. "It wasn't me, I swear."

I had to hold back a laugh as McGonagall stared him down. He looked so innocent. What had he done, anyhow? To my knowledge, nothing had been blown up recently, and no one's hair had changed colours.

"It's nothing like that, Potter"--she looked at him sternly--"for once." She began shuffling her papers again. "Do you remember what I talked to you about yesterday?" She turned back to her writing from before. Again, I questioned whether or not my presence was required there. If Potter wasn't being scolded for something, there really was no entertainment left there for me. What was he doing anyway? What had they talked about yesterday?

"The tutoring?"

Oh, tutoring.

Wait, TUTORING?

Then it all clicked.

"Yes, the tutoring," McGonagall said with a nod. She turned towards me. "Meet your new student, Potter."

Meet your new student, Potter.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to cry.

I wanted to take the words and shove them back. I wanted to do anything except look at James Potter. But, of course, me being the emotional wreck that I was at the time, didn't do anything but stare and gawk.

Why him? It could have been anyone! WHY DID SHE HAVE TO PICK HIM?

"Lily?" he asked, though I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or to McGonagall. He had said my first name again. Why did he keep doing that?

"Yes," McGonagall answered, her gaze not lifting from her writing. "You'll be tutoring Ms. Evans from now on."

My gawking shifted back to Potter, who was looking a bit too pleased for my liking. I'd never be hearing the end of this. I could only imagine the sorts of things he'd say... the sorts of things he'd tell people...

Bloody hell. I hate him.

"But, Professor," I argued, speaking up for the first time since Potter had entered the room. "Won't Potter be too busy to be bothered with tutoring me? I mean, he has Quidditch a-and his Head duties. I'm sure someone else can do it..."

Desperate, you say?

Most definitely.

"Tutoring is apart of his Head duties, Ms. Evans, as it is part of yours." My heart sunk at her words. "If it wasn't you, it'd be someone else. I thank you for your concern, though."

Plan A thwarted. Damn her.

"I suppose I'll leave you both alone to conference about a meeting time." McGonagall rose from her seat, sending a meaningful glance our way as she stood. The parchment she'd previously been writing on was held tightly in her hand. "I have a note to deliver to the Headmaster. Good day to you both." Then, without another word, she left us.

Alone.

I think that's when my brain really started to fully comprehend the situation.

Potter.

James Potter was my tutor.

A tutor was someone who helped their student.

Potter, help me? It wasn't likely.

I HAD to pass this class, though. I had no choice. If I didn't improve, McGonagall would never let me stay in the class and then I'd never become an Auror. But how am I supposed to improve when my tutor is the biggest prat I know? How am I supposed to improve when I have a self-made vow never to speak to my so-called 'tutor' ever again? How am I supposed to improve when my tutor positively despises me?

Does McGonagall even realize what she's done? Does she realise that my whole life has just washed itself down the drain because she's assigned me a worthless tutor? Does she realise that you cannot be an Auror without having a Transfiguration NEWT? DOES SHE?!

I can't believe this. I'm going to fail. Potter's probably going to go on feeding me false information, telling me I'm doing well, while really, just laughing at me and my Transfiguration disabilities. MERLIN, he's such a prat!

While I was going on with my internal ravings, I s'ppse Potter was trying to talk to me, as he was quite startled when I suddenly plopped myself down onto the floor and started bawling my eyes out like mad (hey, I was an emotional wreck, remember? I had no control over my sudden, impulsive reactions).

"Lily!" He instantly dropped down beside me. "Are you all right? What hurts?"

Oh, jeez. The stupid git actually thought I was hurt or something.

"I'm fine!" I sobbed angrily. "Just leave me alone!" I buried my face into my knees as I cried harder.

I think it was then that Potter realised that it wasn't some internal body damage that had me in fits. I could tell he was obviously surprised at my tears and a bit uncertain of what to do with me, as I felt him back away slightly from my shaking form. I knew he was confused as to what to make of the silly crying girl sitting next to him--hell, I'd be confused too!-- but that confusion seemed to disappear slowly, as a few seconds later, I felt his arms wrap hesitantly around me.

Maybe he was trying to be comforting (ha!), but it just made me more upset. Couldn't he just forget about this stupid prank or whatever it was and just go back to being mean to me? He's already ruining my life, why make it worse?

"Go away!" I cried into his shirt, struggling against his hold. At least it was a nice feeling shirt. I suppose if I had to be crying into someone's shirt, it was nice to know it was a comfortable one.

"What's wrong?" he asked me quietly, not loosening his tight hold on me in the least. He obviously wasn't unsure of what to do with me anymore. He also didn't seem to think that holding his long-term enemy in a very intimate grip was all that awkward, either. I, of course, was so confused I didn't know what to think.

"I said, go away!" I shouted even louder as I continued to struggle against him.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong!" he yelled right back.

Oh, yeah. Definitely not nervous anymore.

But if he thought I was just going to go and tell him all my problems, he had another thing coming to him. So what if he's being nice? So what if his shirt is comfortable? HE'S A HORRID, STUPID LIAR!

"Everything!" I cried, trying even harder to tear myself away from him. It seemed like a decent enough answer. He tightened his grip on me. It hurt, so I stopped struggling. Stupid prat.

"Everything?" he asked softly, loosening his death grip on me.

"Yes! Are you satisfied now?"

He shook his head. "No."

I gaped at him in disbelief. "No?"

"Nope," he repeated. I wanted to scream in frustration, or punch him really hard right in his pretty little face. Instead, I just cried harder.

"Ugh! Just go away!"

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," he still insisted. I felt his finger under my chin as he lifted my tear-streaked face up to his. "Tell me what's wrong," he said again.

My mind screamed that this was not normal-- that something was definitely going on here. Why was he still being so nice to me when I was not only being incredibly rude (which he totally deserved), but was also practically wrenching myself out of his grasp? Instead of spitting in his face as I originally intended, I quickly searched his face for any clue as to what was going on, but he revealed nothing. His expression was blank as he waited calmly for me to answer and his eyes were filled with a strange emotion I just couldn't place. Though, I must say, they are very nice. His eyes, I mean. Even though he doesn't deserve them, being the un-nice (or usually un-nice, anyway) person that he his. I hope he donates them to Hope House or something.

"Why do you even care?" I asked him as coldly as I could manage through all my tears. "You despise me."

I had said the last bit rather stately, as if it was common knowledge, which I'd thought it was, but Potter looked confused.

"I don't despise you," he said. "You know that, don't you, Lily?"

Uh, no, I didn't.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, annoyed that he was even suggesting otherwise. This is all part of his mastermind plan, I just know it. Comfort the crying girl, tell her you don't hate her, continue being Mr. Nice and Noble, and then prank the girl until she goes mad. "You've hated me since first-year. You've made your intentions quite clear."

He sighed loudly, shaking his head regretfully. "I've never hated you, Lily."

What a liar that boy is!

"Don't lie!" I cried, glaring daggers at him. "What are you, some sort of pathological liar or something?"

"Am I what?" he asked blankly.

"You lied before and you're lying now!" I explained matter-of-factly, not bothering to keep the anger out of my voice when I did so. "Do you enjoy lying, or are you just sick and can't help it?"

Potter sighed once again, moving one of his hands from around me to reach up and push his hair aside. "I didn't mean to lie before," he said. "I'm sorry."

I had to hold back my snort of disbelief. What was he talking about? How can you NOT mean to lie? When you lie, you KNOW you're lying. He totally knew! I mean, he smiled! Not only did he know he was doing it, but he took a bit of satisfaction in doing it as well!

"You can't not mean to lie," I snapped angrily. "You did it on purpose."

Potter fought to find his words for a moment. "I know," he said, "but... it was... I never meant...oh, never mind! You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," I shot back, now actually curious as to how he 'didn't mean to lie' as opposed to before when I was just trying to sway the conversation to a topic other than me crying. If he could be persistent, so could I.

"Not until you tell me why you're crying," he countered with a pointed look.

Oh, damn.

I should have seen that coming.

I never intended to tell him why I was hysterical, of course. Even if he was being nice and all. In fact, I had every intention of screaming and yelling and making a big scene out of him wanting to get into my private business. But, naturally, my notorious mouth chose that specific moment to strike again. I think it might have been those stupid eyes of his that somehow set my idiotic mouth off (!), but one way or another, I soon found myself pouring out the entire Transfiguration story-- my dreadful O.W.L.S. scores, my deal with McGonagall, my Auror problem, even my tutoring doubts about him-- to James Potter, right there on the Transfiguration classroom's floor.

Yeah, I know, I'm an idiot.

He listened intently, as if he actually cared about what I was saying, which is why I think my mouth just kept going, even after I thought there was nothing left to tell. Then, finally, after my traitor-of-a-mouth had finally finished its rather long piece, I ended my story with a pleasant, "My life is a living hell," and then quickly clamped my mouth together, mentally kicking myself all the while. Potter seemed to be waiting to see if I was finished before he said or did anything. He actually seemed a bit stunned that I had given in so easily. A few seconds past in silence before he began to laugh.

"Is that all?" he asked with a smirk. I scowled at him. "I honestly thought it was something important."

"This is important!" I snapped.

He laughed again, taking no heed of my angered disposition. "Listen," he started, giving me a small smile. "First off, everyone has their fair share of problems. Everyone thinks their life is a living hell at one point or another-- I mean, hell! I hate my life, too! And secondly, you're not going to fail Transfiguration. That's what I'm here for."

He sounded so sincere when he said that last part, that I almost believed him. Almost. I mean, I wanted to believe him, really I did, but this is James Potter we're talking about here. The same James Potter who lied to me. The same James Potter who has hated me since first-year (even if he insists that he didn't. That was a lie, too). I mean, after all of that, why should I believe him now?

"You're going to help me?" I asked, not bothering to hide the blatant sarcasm from my voice. "Right. Sure."

"I will!" he insisted, still looking very sincere, though I knew he wasn't.

I rolled my eyes. "You will?" I asked flatly.

"Of course, I will!" he answered. I threw him a suspicious look. His arms moved away from my body and into an 'oath' position. "Sacred Marauder Promise."

I rolled my eyes again. "Like I'd believe any promise you four came up with!" I laughed. Well, at least it was an attempted laugh. I sort of started coughing halfway through, so it was more of a coughing fit than a carefree laugh.

"You all right?" Potter asked me after my coughing had died down a bit. I could see he was trying to hold back a laughing fit of his own.

"I'm fine," I choked out.

"Good." He smiled and nodded. I watched as he pushed himself off of the floor and into a standing position. He then offered me his hand, helping me off the floor as well.

"Thanks," I croaked, still not completely over my coughing fit.

"No problem," he answered with another smile. I looked away from him and busied myself with wiping the invisible dirt off my skirt. I figured if I didn't look at him, maybe I could just forget this entire thing had happened.

"So." Potter looked towards me expectantly, obviously not sure what else to say at that point. If he was looking towards me to restart the conversation, he was mad. I think I'd done enough talking for one day, thank you very much.

I didn't know how much time had past, but I knew it had to have been a good while after spilling out my entire life story to the poor bloke. It seemed mad that I had I really been talking to James Potter for all that time. Is that even possible? I never thought so.

"I'd... better get going," Potter finally said, breaking the silence. "Lunch and all."

"Yeah." I nodded, wiping at my eyes and hoping that I didn't look like too much of a mess. "Lunch. Right."

There was another quiet pause before Potter went, "But about those tutoring sessions... I have Quidditch Mondays and Fridays, so how about tomorrow? Say, around 8?"

I nodded again, though I still wasn't sure if this tutoring thing was even going to be worth it. What if the prat actually DOES feed me false information? What if he CAN'T help me? What on earth will I do then?

"Good." He looked relieved that I'd actually consented. "I'll meet you in the common room, then?"

I nodded stupidly once more. He smiled at me and then moved to grab his things off one of the desks. I watched him as he started for the door, but for some reason, had the distinct feeling that our conversation couldn't end right then.

I should've known, of course, that my traitor-of-a-mouth could easily take care of something like that.

"Potter!"

He turned around to face me, looking as if he'd expected such an outburst. At least one of us had.

"Uh...well...er...thanks. For, er... letting me yell at you."

Oh, Merlin.

Did that actually come out of my mouth?

I am such an idiot.

What he must have been thinking of me at that very moment, I can only guess. It was probably something along the lines of 'bloody moron'.

"You're welcome," he laughed.

Yes, Major Moron Lily.

He gave me one last smile before he started for the door again. I tried to return the smile best I could, but I was so red at that point, I really don't think it mattered.

I turned quickly back to my books, which were scattered across my desk, trying not to think of our previous conversation. There was only one way to find out if Potter really was the liar I envisioned him to be, and that was to go through with this whole tutoring thing. Who knows, maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he could help me.

"Lily!"

My head snapped up at the sound of my name. Potter was leaning on the doorframe, looking expectantly at me. What did he want now?

"Hm?"

I tried to sound as casual as possible. Of course, there's no reason I shouldn't have sounded casual. I mean, it's just Potter. Even if I had just blurted out my entire life story to him.

"James," he said simply.

I looked at him confused, thinking he'd elaborate. "What?" I asked.

"My name," he said in the same simple tone, "is James."

I gave him a strange look. "I know it is," I said with a nervous sort of giggle. How was I supposed to know what he was talking about?

"I reckon that's what you should call me then, right?"

My body froze. I stared at him in complete and utter disbelief.

Did he say, what I thought he'd just said? Did he honestly just tell me to call him James? After six years of constant surname calling, he tells me now?

"Er-yeah," I choked out. "I-I s'ppse so."

He grinned. "All right." Then he disappeared completely.

Now, I ask you, what was that all about? What was he doing? What must he think of me?

Wait, why am I even caring what he thinks? Potter's opinion never mattered before! What, two days of unusual niceness and suddenly he's my bloody idol or something? I really should stop that. After all, he's just Potter. The stupid, bigheaded, prick that I've hated since first year... right?

RIGHT?

Later, 7th Year Girls Dormitory,

You'd think that people would have other things to talk about.

Seriously. It's as if the whole lot of them haven't had any decent gossip in ages.

I mean, I know it was a very eventful class, but you'd hope that people could find entertainment in something other than making the Head Girl feel like a fool.

The fact that I couldn't even finish eating dinner (which included FOUR different types of rice, by the way) because of all the stares and pointing, really just has to say something about my fellow student body. I had hoped that they'd understand that no one is perfect, least of all me, and would just lay off, but that simply just wasn't the case. It really just isn't appropriate. I know I'm a Transfiguration failure, but they don't have to rub it in.

I told Grace and Emma about my whole "Potter/James" incident when we'd gotten back to the dormitory. They seemed to think it was perfectly natural. Apparently, I'm "over-examining" the situation. How silly of me.

"It's good he's trying to make peace," Grace said. "Your stupid fights have been going on for too long."

This is probably true. The whole fight thing really is somewhat stupid. But it was always him who started in with me. I never attacked him without being provoked.

"James is very good at Transfiguration," Emma had told me in regards to the tutoring situation. "He'll be a good tutor. You just have to be sure to study harder. Let James do his part, but be sure to do yours, as well."

I had also told them about the day at Kings Cross and about the prank idea. Grace found this absurd.

"He's being nice and you automatically think it's a prank?" she asked me with an odd look on her face.

"That's what he said," I muttered quietly, feeling a bit guilty now. It seemed like a perfectly valid explanation before. What else could it be?

"Well, maybe it's just not what you think," she said. "Maybe there's another reason, but you just don't realise it."

That's when I knew that she knew something I didn't. I hate it when she does that whole 'mysterious' act. You can never get anything out of her when she's like this. She always expects you to know exactly what she's talking about. I never can understand what she's trying to tell me anyway, so why bother saying anything at all? Is it that amusing to confuse me?

"Or maybe it's exactly what I think," I countered stubbornly. It couldn't be anything else. There WAS no other reason.

Grace just shook her head and the conversation ended.

I really do hate when she does that.