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Your name: Diana Tregarde
The name of the FanFic: The Patronus Lesson
Which House you are in: House of Gryffindor!
Did you write it? No.


Hmm...this fic is so sweet, plus there is an incredibly sensuous kiss. I needed to make a few changes: For one, I changed the title, which I thought gave away a very pivotal moment, and eliminated one paragraph that recalls a prank with James breaking into the woman's dorm (canon says the girls dorms are Charmed so that boys can't do that). I love to read fanfic, I'm not good at writing it, though. This one I titled:



James Potter made his way through the portrait hole not quite at nine p.m. sharp that Friday evening. He noticed her, with a sense of excitement, already waiting for him by the common room fire. Fellow Gryffindors littered the place, but everyone seemed to move out of the way for the head boy. He was not particularly tall, nor did he have the build for a beater, nor the face of a Greek god, and yet he had a presence. Everyone knew about and respected his powers as a wizard, as a leader, a captain. Black, wire-rimmed spectacles framed his sparkling hazel eyes. He was excited. For tonight was the fifth time in a row that he’d held a private study transfiguration lesson for one Lily Evans and their playful banter had been gradually building to full on flirting.
 
He’d fancied Lily for ages, but had only asked her out here and there, frightened she’d say no. He had tried those few times without success, though in his own mind he knew they had been half-hearted attempts. Those times she had knocked him back, he had been hurt, although he had pretended to not care. James’ former childish pride had forced the rejection to the back of his mind. He understood only now that the incessant attention-seeking he had been guilty of in the past only served in push Lily away, and so he was trying a different approach.
 
Lily Evans waited impatiently for the head boy to arrive. She always got there too early, eager to get the “lessons” started. She knew in her own heart, and by the fact that her transfiguration marks weren’t at all bad, that they were a convenient excuse to flirt with James, but she held onto the excuse in front of her friends, who knew better of course, not that they were about to say anything on the contrary to the fiery witch. And Lily was fiery in every sense of the world, from her flame-coloured hair, to her expressive emerald-green eyes, to her personality and flare. For such a small stature, Lily was a tall character. She was smart, but didn’t flaunt it, cheeky, mischievous. She’d fancied James for ages, against her own will. Before he had grown up, he had been everything she had claimed she couldn’t stand. There were four marauders, and yet she saw only him, blamed only him, was disappointed by only his behaviour, because she loved him, and although he made her heart pound and the blood rise in her cheeks, he had stood for everything she had not, or so she had once thought. Now she reasoned, it had all been a waste of time, they weren’t so different after all, and she considered sitting around waiting for him a waste of time, when they could in fact be snogging.
 
Lily was broken from her reverie by a quick tap on her shoulder. She jumped, scared and whipped around, only to be face-to-face with the most gorgeous set of hazel eyes. She blinked, mesmerized.
 
“Hi, Lily.”
 
She said nothing, but continued to stare. He could only assume that she was mad at him for being late, as she usually was, and he plonked himself tiredly down on the nearest squishy armchair, before rushing into an apology.
 
“Sorry I’m late, was finishing that monstrous essay on Felix Felcis that Slughorn set us last week in the library, you know how bad it was, yeah? It’s only what, 9.08? I’m not terribly late, could’ve been worse, you know? ....Lily? ,”
 
He gazed at her, only just noticing the glazed-look of her eyes that told him she hadn’t listened to a single word of his apology. She just stared at him.
 
“Lily? Lily? Earth to Evans? ,” he shouted, waving his hands in front of her face, which seemed to do the trick as proceeded to blink, realising she had been staring, and she then accordingly turned a none-so-attractive shade of tomato red.
 
 “Erm…sorry James, must’ve drifted off there…”
“Anywhere nice?”
“What? Anywhere nice….?”
“Yeah, you know, where you drifted off to…”
 
“But I didn’t go anywhere….”
 
“Sorry, terrible joke…” he said sheepishly, looking down at his scuffed trainers, and giving his messy black hair a ruffle, which Lily now realised was from nerves, and not a way for him to look like he had just hopped off a broom. “So…um…yeah. Sorry I’m late again. Let’s get started, shall we?”
 
She found herself mesmerized once again by his large hands as he ran them through his hair, and she wondered if it was as soft as it looked. The sudden urge to run her own hands through it almost overpowered her, although she was able to stop her wandering hand just in time, and cover the movement by tucking a piece of her own hair behind her ear.
 
“Yeah, sorry, let’s get started. What’ll it be tonight? Can we do some defensive spells? Perhaps the Patronus charm?”
 
“Um…why not?” he looked at her strangely, convinced that she, Lily Evans, Muggleborn witch extraordinaire, already knew how to produce a corporeal Patronus, and he had a sneaking suspicion that she was deliberately wasting his time. But why? “You know the incantation right? I’m surprised you don’t know how to do this already, though, you seemed to grasp the concept quite well in class.”
 
Lily did not answer right away, and could feel the colour and heat rise in her cheeks. He was, of course, quite right to doubt her. She did know the spell, and she had produced a Patronus already. She had achieved it just the night before in front of fellow Gryffindor Mary Macdonald in the girls’ dorms. But this was all part of her cunning plan to win James over.
 
He has asked her out a couple of times through the years, which had secretly pleased her, although she had acted for all the world as if he was asking to murder her pet cat. The only problem was that he had appeared to give up over the last few months, just when she began to realise that she liked him. She would have given up all hope if it had been for these little “lessons” of theirs. She hoped that when she revealed her Patronus form to him, he would get the picture that they were made for each other and snog her senseless. Well she hoped he would, anyway.
 
“You alright, Lily? You look a bit flushed. It’s a bit hot here, isn’t it? Do you want to move away from the fire?”
 
“No!” she answered, perhaps too quickly and too forcefully. She thought that beside the fire would be the perfect spot for them to share their first kiss.
 
“Alright, alright, calm down, we’ll stay here,” James replied, somewhat bemused. He grinned at her, that lopsided grin that she loved, and she found herself getting red in the face once again. Get a grip, woman! She thought.
 
“Can we just start, James?”
 
“Hey don’t snap at me, Lily Marie Evans.”
 
“Don’t you middle name me, James Fitzgerald Potter!”
 
James groaned. “Oh man! How did you find out my…unfortunate middle name?”
 
Lily grinned, the smile reaching, and crinkling her eyes at the corners. James loved it when she smiled, really smiled. In the past, those beautiful smiles had never been directed at him. But now, well now she smiled, or laughed, or, even better, blushed frequently in his presence.
 
She tapped the side of her nose. “That would be telling, now wouldn’t it?”
 
He gave her another lopsided grin. “I’ll have words with Sirius later.”
 
She laughed, the sound going straight through James, making him tingle. “How did you know? Was I that obvious?”
 
“No, he’s just that mean. I can’t believe he told you.”
 
“Oh he’s not that bad. I did torture it out of him.”
 
James looked amused, and dared to ask, “How did you manage that?”
 
Her green eyes sparkled with mischief, and he was spellbound. “I took away his dinner plate, and told him he couldn’t eat until he told me it.”
 
“That’s pure evil. Perhaps you should’ve been sorted into Slytherin all along…”
 
“That’s what he said. And hey!” she added, squatting him on the arm, flirtatiously, and although he could have easily dodged her, he found that he didn’t want to. Contact was contact, after all.
 
“Right, enough of this idle chit-chat. We’ve got work to do, and I need some sort of distraction in order to forget that you know my embarrassing middle name.”
 
Lily giggled, and retrieved her wand from her back pocket.
 
“You really shouldn’t leave it there you know, you might have an accident and be left with only one buttock….”
 
“Shut up, James,” she said, through her laughter, and as she aimed her wand in front of her and whispered the spell, she looked him deeply in the eyes, watching him watching her, waiting for the animal to emerge. She thought of him, and only him.
 
And emerge it did. A silvery burst of light shot from her wand, and formed itself into the one animal he had always hoped it would, although he never really thought it could be. As the doe galloped around the room, James was shell-shocked, bowled over. What shocked him more, however, was that Lily, staring at him with the most intense look he had received from anyone in his entire life, those blazing eyes focused on his, did not look shocked, or appalled or even embarrassed.
 
He had no idea what to say, or to think. She knew that his was a stag, that he was an illegal animagus stag. And she was a doe. What did this mean? Did she like him? Why was his heart beating so fast?
 
The doe evaporated, and the pair was left aware that they were the only people left in the silent common room; the only sound their heavy breathing.
 
“Lily”
“James”

“Did you…have you…” he faltered, breathless, “did you know that that was your Patronus before tonight?”
 
“Yes.”
 
James remained rooted to the spot, his mind whirling. Did this mean she liked him?
As much as he liked her?
 
“What does this mean Lily? Do you like me?”
 
Instead of answering him, she walked slowly towards him, swinging her hips, putting him in some sort of trance.
 
And then she was right in front of him, looking up from behind those long lashes. She licked her lips, and James continued to be entranced. And then she was putting one hand on his loose tie, and pulling him down, the long way down to her eye level.
 
“Kiss me, James”
 
Her voice brought him back to his senses, and he realised what she had asked him, no demanded him to do. He looked at her face, her eyes fluttered and were almost closed, her lips wet and puckered and pink, and gorgeous, but he was determined to take his time, for this to be perfect, because he knew, just knew, that this would be his last first kiss, because he would marry this girl.
 
He pressed a gentle kiss to her left cheek, and then her right, one to her forehead, and her nose, drawing a leisurely path. He left her nose, and passed her waiting mouth, so close, but did not touch it, causing a small whimper, which he loved, and he instead pressed a kiss to her chin. And then he was kissing her mouth, her unbelievably soft lips, which were unsure, as she had never kissed a boy before, but so unbelievably soft. And Lily felt butterflies in her tummy, and tingles from her head to her toes, because he was so amazing at this, and his lips were pressing firmly, and then they were open mouth kissing, and he was sucking on her bottom lip, and she was in heaven. Or at least she thought she was, until he tongue came out to meet hers, gently, not yet probing, but soothing, and slow, and passionate. Lily had never even dreamed of being kissed like this. And then it was all over.
 
James leaned back to look at her, and couldn’t help but smile. Her eyes were still closed, her lips still puckered, and she looked as if she had been thoroughly snogged, by him. James Potter. He couldn’t believe his luck.
 
Lily opened one eye, just realizing that they had stopped, and peeked at him, watching her, with that lopsided grin. For once, she did not blush.
 
“Stop smiling, James, and kiss me again.”
 
He was shocked, but smiled again. “Whatever the lady wants, the lady gets….”
   
The next morning, Lily and James sat opposite other at the Gryffindor table, sneaking little glances at each other, smiling in their own secret way. Lily chatted amiably to Mary, whilst Remus, Sirius and Peter shoveled food into their mouths.

Sirius caught the two glancing at each other, and decided to have some fun with it.
 
“So, Prongs, Lily. How was the “lesson” last night?” he asked cheekily.
 
“Fine thanks, Sirius,” Lily replied, breaking off her conversation with Mary to look at Sirius.
 
“What did you, er, “study” then?”
 
“Patronuses,” said James, trying hard not to blush and give the game away. Lily remained calm and collected.
 
“Oh, did you now? What was your form, Evans? A doe, perhaps?” he added, laughing, nudging James on the arm suggestively.
 
It was Lily who answered. “Yeah it was, actually.” And ignoring the shocked, open-mouthed gape that Sirius was giving her, she leaned over the table, kissed James firmly on the lips, and then went back to discussing the potions essay with Mary.
 
Sirius looked as if he had been stunned, James looked pleased with himself, Remus proud, and Peter, well, Peter didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary that had happened.

Name: Minerva the Bookwyrm
House: Ravenclaw - I'm Head of House, so I can't enter this contest to win. This fic is just for your enjoyment because I love it.
Did you write it? YES! biggrin
Summary: James’ perspective on the night that Sirius runs away from Grimmauld Place. Sirius hasn’t explained why he left his family, and James is determined to get an explanation out of him.
Note: James and Sirius are the only characters that are physically present in the story. The pairings of James/Lily and Sirius/Remus are mentioned, but it's more about the friendship between James and Sirius than anything else. By the way, I use British spelling and a few mild swear words, but I don't think it's anything that violates Gaia's "PG-13" ToS.




“You’re going to tell me sooner or later.”

Sirius is ignoring me. He’s climbing into the bed that Mum transfigured for him out of my wicker clothes hamper. We have a guest room he could stay in, but he told me that he didn’t want to be alone. He said it offhandedly, like it made no difference, though I know that he wouldn’t have mentioned it if it was not important to him.

Now, he’s ignoring me, so he might as well be alone.

“Why not make it sooner and just get it over with?”

Still nothing.

I sigh and crawl under my own blankets, intending to get some sleep and renew my inquisition in the morning. I try reciting the alphabet backwards, counting hippogriffs, and listening to the calming summer breeze outside my window. Nothing works; my curiosities and concerns are too strong for me to rest.

I have one idea about how I can find out what he’s keeping locked up, but none of the Marauders have done it since second year. Since we’re sixteen, it would be childish and girly of me to do, and Sirius might take offense to it, and my parents could walk in and see, and – Sod it. I’m doing it.

Throwing the sheets off of me in a tangled mess, I walk over to Sirius’ bed and slide beside him under the covers without asking.

He turns his head on the pillow that we’re sharing to look at me in the faint light provided by the half-moon shining through the window. “Couldn’t stay away, could you?” I should’ve known he would be fine with it. He adjusts well to any situation.

“No.” I let my voice drop to huskier note. “I want something from you.”

He maneuvers his entire body so we’re both lying on our sides facing each other. “I’m sure you do, but I’ve had a hard day, and - no matter how much you beg - I won’t shag you.”

“Silly Padfoot,” I shake my head indulgently, “if that’s what I wanted you’d be the one doing the begging.”

His aristocratic eyebrows rise. “You think so?” he enquires, ignoring the quip made at the expense of his animagus form.

“I know so. Fortunately for you, what I want is much easier to give.” I’m trying to make a subtle segue to the discussion that really matters.

Sirius groans and lies on his back again. “Let it go, Prongs.” Why did I bother? All of us know that Remus is the only Marauder with any tact.

I waggle my finger in a negative assertion. “It’s not going anywhere.”

“I’ll pay to send it on a one-way trip on the Knight Bus,” he offers.

My tone becomes like that of a dramatic announcer. “It won’t be tricked. It’s staying here until it is dealt with. Is that a problem?”

It is clearly a problem. “I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?” I demand, propping myself on my elbow to look down at him.

He refuses to meet my gaze. “Because there’s nothing to tell! You know how much I hated that house; they’ve all contracted the Black Plague! It was only a matter of time before their ‘purebloods are the best’ shite became too much to take.”

“You always said you’d put up with it so you could inherit their money and give it to St. Mungo’s for funding research to find a cure for lycanthropy. Something drastic must’ve happened to make you run away and give up that money to Regulus,” I insist. “As your best mate, I’ve got a right to know.”

He finally looks at me, and he’s angry. Good, so am I. “As my best mate, you should leave it alone when I. Don’t. Want. To. Talk. About. It.”

“You’re bloody mental! It’s like I told Remus when he tried to talk us out of becoming animagi ‘cause he thought it was too dangerous: If you want people around that don’t meddle in your life to make you happier, then you ought to get different friends.” I’m ready to strike him if I need to, yet he seems more subdued already.

“If I tell you, I might have to do that. Get new mates, I mean.” Sirius sighs, and it’s a Remus-ish sigh. The kind that means he has a sufferance that won’t ever go away, but he doesn’t want to burden anyone else with the knowledge of the problem when they can’t help anyway.

“You won’t tell me why you left the Blacks because you think I’ll stop being friends with you?” This time I do hit him; a sock to the stomach. It is enough to make him cough, but not nearly as forcefully as I could’ve struck him. “You’re the person that I tell my secrets to, and the only one that gets all of my jokes. How could you think that, you git?”

I wonder if he’ll give me a punch in return for my own. Sometimes, we do that to solve our disputes. However, all he does is regard me with an uncharacteristic seriousness. “I know you wouldn’t shun me; you’re a better person than that, but you’d treat me differently. You wouldn’t feel comfortable doing this anymore.”

That’s the most confusing thing I’ve ever heard. “Doing what?”

“This.” He gestures between our almost touching bodies in frustration. “Being alone with me; sitting close to me; pretending to flirt with me.”

“Unless you went and snogged Evans, or made good on your promise to actually strangle Wormy to death for annoying you too much, there’s nothing you could say that’d make me treat you differently,” I say sincerely.

“No chance on the Evans one happening. I’m not interested in snappish types. Can’t promise the Wormtail one, though, and - What does it matter? I want to tell you. I’ve wanted to for ages, but I can’t. You believe nothing will change, but you don’t know for certain until you know what it is. And it’s a pretty bad thing…” Success! I can practically smell his resolve crumbling.

“Worse than Remus’ hairier side?” I challenge. This is one way that I cope with my issues. No matter what awful thing I’m going through, I remind myself that it isn’t as bad as what Remus experiences, and that my problem will be overcome eventually and his will only get worse as he grows older. Someday, I ought to tell Moony what an inspiration he is to me, and to Padfoot also, I’m sure.

“Well, no,” Sirius admits. He inhales deeply. “Fine, I’ll tell you, but it stays between us. Not even Remus and Pete can find out.”

“That goes without saying.” We often don’t let topics go beyond the two of us because Peter – bless his supportive little heart – rarely has any constructive input, and Remus worries too much about us already when he should be taking care of his own troubles.

“I’ve only dated two girls, and neither of them for very long.”

This would be considered unconnected to the point by anyone else, though I realise exactly where he’s going with it. Our comprehension of each other mystifies the professors. What can I say? We’re amazing. “Your parents want you to marry soon to pass on the Black name.”

He nods reluctantly. “They were even talking about an arranged marriage after I graduated.”

I grimace and mutter with Sirius simultaneously, “Fascists.”

Our synchranised speech causes him to smile slightly and continue with less hesitancy. “We started shouting at one another and throwing things, nothing unusual. It probably would’ve ended the same way as our other fights; me being locked in my room by Mother for a couple of days and Father firing a few people at the Ministry as a way to vent.”

“But it didn’t end that way.” This isn’t a question, but an obvious truth.

“Kreacher got involved.” Sirius’ voice is laced with disgust. I can’t blame him for feeling that way towards a creature that worships his psychotic mother. “He told them about something he heard me say in my sleep. He claims that he was cleaning when he heard it, but I bet he staked out by my bed every night just waiting for me to slip and do something that would get me punished.”

“What did he hear you say?” I don’t know why I’m whispering. It just seems appropriate.

“A name.” His delivery is equally quiet. “A boy’s name.”

Time stops. Time is moving too fast. I’m deaf. I hear thousands of glasses shattering. I feel so heavy that I’ll sink into the ground. I feel so light that I’ll blow away. Nothing makes sense. Everything makes sense.

The first term that comes to mind is: “What?”

“Don’t you see?” Sirius’ fist connects furiously with the pillow. He sits up to stare directly into my eyes and I notice that his grey orbs are too bright in the dim room to be free of tears. “I’m a bleeding fairy, James, and the worst people that could’ve found out know now!”

Suddenly, I wish that Remus were here. He’s the best at comforting and giving advice. Oh well, I will do my best in his absence. “That sucks.”

He emits a watery chuckle. “I tell you about the worst day of my life…second worst,” he corrects himself before going on, “and you’re brilliant words of wisdom are ‘that sucks?’”

Not needing to ask what the worst is (It was the day he told Snape about Remus’ condition, almost making both of them lose their lives and Sirius lose something just as important to him: Remus’ friendship.), I wrap my arms around him in a firm hug. “That really sucks. Better?”

“Quite.” He buries his face into my shoulder to hide his wet face, or perhaps simply to wipe his bogeys on my shirt. “Do me a favour?”

“Maybe if I feel like it,” I reply airily. He swats my arm lightly, face still hidden. “All right, anything.”

“Never become a counselor.” He pulls back from me with dry eyes.

“Well…” I glance at my sticky shoulder. “Only because you bribed me so richly.”

Sirius appears a bit sheepish, yet he doesn’t apologise. He and I scarcely ever say ‘sorry’ to others due to us being too proud, and we never proclaim it to each other on account of it being unnecessary. “So, you’re…you know…okay with it, then?”

“Your snot on my pyjamas, or you being a man that’s after bananas instead of cherries?” I gravely inquire.

He smiles amusedly at my choice of words. “The second. I know there’s no hope of you forgiving the bogeys.”

“Of course I’m fine with it, but your rabid fangirls won’t be.” Several of the Hogwarts girls formed a fan club for Sirius and me. In the beginning, it was funny and flattering. After a while it became scary and, when school starts again, we plan on avoiding them like a contagious disease.

“They won’t find out. No one will. Nobody except you and my parents know, and - even though dear old Mum’s burned my name off of the family tree - they won’t bring it up. Disowned son or not, people would talk and they don’t want a scandal.” For his sake, I hope he’s correct about his relatives’ silence.

“I see why you don’t want most people to know.” The majority of the wizarding world views homosexuality as worse than being a werewolf. According to prejudiced opinion, werewolves have no option in being ‘half-breeds,’ however, gay wizards choose through free will to refuse to create children and pass on their magical genes. “But to keep it from the other Marauders? Moony, in particular, would understand how alone you must feel some of the time for being differen-”

Sirius grabs my arm urgently. “No! You promised to keep it between us. You can’t tell anyone, including Moony. Especially not Moony.”

He cannot possibly believe that Remus of all people would be judgmental, so why can’t I tell him? I don’t tend to keep my thoughts to myself. “Why can’t I tell him?” See?

“Because I asked you not to.” This explains nothing, yet it means everything.

“Right. Not a word,” I agree, and Sirius releases my arm in relief. “But I get to ask you other questions.”

“How did I know that was coming?” Sirius puts his head against the pillow and watches me expectantly. “Fire away.”

I clear my throat importantly. “How’d you find out you were part of the rainbow club?”

He makes an odd face at how I described his preference, yet doesn’t comment on it and slowly responds, “It’s hard to say. I think I always knew, but I didn’t want it to be true, so I dated girls to see if I could make myself be attracted to them. Didn’t work, obviously. Once I realised that, I still wanted to prove I wasn’t a pouf. I snogged a bloke next and, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, that turned me on a bit.” He answered ere I had to ask, “He was nobody you know, just someone I met when my parents made me and Regulus go with them to that pureblood convention in Spain last summer.”

“Please, tell me he wasn’t a bullfighter,” I plead dramatically, clasping my hands together.

Sirius takes my hands, unfolds them, and waves them in an imitation of a red cape. “Olé!”

“Kinky b*****d.” I laugh, but sober quickly as I remember my other question. “Is he the bloke whose name Kreacher heard you say?”

He swiftly releases my fingers and stares at the blanket. “No.”

“Then, who-”

“Look, that is somebody you know, and I won’t break on this one.” He stubbornly juts out his chin. “I’m NOT telling you. You always like playing matchmaker to get Pete dates for Hogsmeade, and you’d definitely interfere here.”

“I would not!” I exclaim indignantly. At his look of scepticism I grudgingly say, “Well, okay, maybe I would. Even so, you’ve got to give me more information. ‘Somebody I know’ could be anyone at Hogwarts. What does it matter if I can put a face to the name? I promise not to make a joke out of it.”

“Joking’s not what I’m worried about. Go to sleep.” He rolls onto his side so that his back is to me, unsubtly showing that he wishes to drop the subject.

Ha! As if that’ll work! “Is it somebody I really hate, or really like, or something?”

“I’m not playing the Twenty Questions game until you guess. Go to sleep or go away.”

“I don’t think I’ll do either, but thanks for the offer. Should I pretend you said ‘yes’ to my last question? If that were the case, I’d figure you fancied somebody I was fond of ‘cause - let’s face it - anybody I hate, you hate, too.”

Sirius stays quiet. Hmm…suspicious.

“Could it be a person I find cool enough to talk to, but not enough to hang out with, like my old potions partner? Or is someone I’m closer to and talk to everyday, like a few of the blokes from the Quidditch team?”

He growls. Actually growls! I must be making progress. It cannot be denied that I am fantastic.

“Let’s go with the Quidditch team. After all, some of the members are good-looking and-”

Sirius scoffs arrogantly. “Who’s the shirt-lifter here? You can’t judge what blokes are hot. I can, and none of them are. They’ve got these bulging muscles that make ‘em look like screwed up science experiments from one of those Muggle films, and they’re dumb as flobberworms. I bet they don’t even know how to open a book, much less read one. The only people on the team with any brains are you and that girl, Evans’ friend.”

“Her name’s Emmeline Vance.” As the team captain, I make an effort to know who all the players are. For some reason, it surprises people that I take my responsibilities seriously. “Anyway, you’re right; they are dolts. Great fliers, though, and good for a laugh at parties.”

“We’re good for a laugh anytime.” He alters position so we’re viewing one another again. “Why would I want anybody stealing our spotlight?”

“You wouldn’t.” I pause to gather all of the evidence in my mind that he unintentionally gave me. “So, your crush isn’t too muscular, reads a lot, and doesn’t like being the centre of attention.”

His fawned-over, tan skin becomes pale. “You’re wrong.”

“Am not.” I smirk cheekily. What? There’s nothing wrong with cheeks. “You just want me to be. He must look and act like that, or you wouldn’t have said what you did.”

For the first time, he rolls over completely to burrow his waning visage into the softness under our heads. “Yuwer rongbowt tacruk parth.”

Righting myself from nearly falling off of the bed courtesy of Sirius’ movement, I state, “Mr. Prongs would like to remind Mr. Padfoot that, while Mr. Prongs is a man of many talents, he does not speak Pillow.”

His head lifts slightly so he can talk with his hair falling down to hide his face and cover the pillow. “Mr. Padfoot would like to remind Mr. Prongs that kissing his own elbow is not a talent. What the remarkable Padfoot said was, ‘you were wrong about the crush part.’”

“Crush part?” I don’t bother to continue the banter since I know we’re getting to the literal and metaphorical heart of the matter.

“It’s not a crush.” Dark locks hit my chin as he flips them out of his way to look at me with an expression of self-triumph and self-loathing for telling me. “I’m in love.”

Confusion strikes. Damn that confusion. “In love? But, Sirius, you’ve never had a conversation over five minutes long with anyone except the Marauders and my mum and dad. Who could you possibly know well enough to be in love with?”

He grimaces, vexed that I haven’t figured it out. “Forget it.”

“No. Really?” I encourage him to go on.

“No, really, forget it.” He’s going to roll over again, but I put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t tell me you’re in love with someone that I know, and not tell me who it is!” He ceases attempting to move away and simply stares at me, willing me to understand without needing to say anything. I take my hand off, assured he’ll stay still, and look back at him blankly. It’s apparent that he believes I ought to know by now. “It’s…” My throat suddenly feels dry, and I need to swallow before I can continue. “It’s not me, is it?”

“You?” Sirius appears surprised by my question. The stupefaction quickly forms into a facial expression of challenge of his that I’ve seen many times before. “What if it is? Will you feel differently about me then?”

“Um…” Forming words that make sense is difficult because I can barely make sense of my own thoughts. He can’t love me like that, can he? He just can’t. I mean, I like attention and don’t read unless I have to; that doesn’t fit the little bit of information I deduced. Unless I was wrong about that information to begin with? Oh, no. Please, in the name of Godric, no.

“Well?” demands Sirius. His entire body is tense as he awaits my response.

What can I say? I settle for the only truth that my terrified brain can conclude. “I’d never be able to return your feelings, Padfoot. I would hate hurting you like that.” My voice is still frustratingly strained.

He studies me for a moment and, apparently satisfied with what he sees, answers, “Don’t worry; it’s not you. You aren’t my type.” I can tell he means it.

Thank Merlin! I start breathing again. The past five seconds were the longest of my life, and I intend to get back at him for torturing me once the current issue is resolved. “So,” I lean in conspiratorially, “what is your type?”

“I’m not falling for that, Potter. You already got me to give you some information about him.” He glares and most people would be intimidated, but - given the fact that his mucus from earlier is beginning to crust on my shirt – I’m not cowed in the least.

“C’mon, Sirius, that description fits everyone in Ravenclaw! I need something else,” I grouse.

“Fine,” he huffs. After a moment of silent contemplation he reveals, “Clever, funny, trustworthy, sexy…”

I can’t stop myself from smirking a second time. “I thought you said I wasn’t your type.”

He nonchalantly shows me his middle finger and says, “First off, we’re brothers, so you’d be emotional incest. ‘Cause of that, I wouldn’t want to date anyone like you either. It would be weird. The man that’s captured my heart couldn’t be more different from you. Or me, for that matter…” Sirius trails off, and I know he’s thinking about his love.

My skin is literally itching with yearning to learn who it is. I’ve got a feeling that I should know, yet somehow the person is so obvious that I’m overlooking him. If Remus were here he’d get Sirius to tell us. Remus is very observant and – even though Sirius tells me everything (some things that I don’t even want to know!) – he has a soft spot when it comes to Moony. If Remus were here to help me pester Sirius, then the dog would cave. I think it’s because he doesn’t want to disappoint Remus. Sirius recognises that he can’t disappoint me; we’re two halves of the same person no matter what happens. However, Moony has a higher moral code than the rest of us. Truthfully, I don’t like letting him down either because I know we’re all he has and that makes him appreciate us more than we deserve. Sirius thrives on that kind of appreciation, having never gotten it at home, and…OH. MY. GOD! How could I have missed it?

“Who else would it be? Of course it’s Moony!” My brain is so busy doing a victory dance at finally deducing the object of Sirius’ affection that I almost miss his response.

“Yeah,” he mutters sadly.

My mind stops congaing at his dejection. “What’s wrong? I know you really wanted me to know who it was. Don’t deny it.”

He doesn’t. Instead, he says, “It’s just…It’s Moony, you know?”

I nod. I do know.

Desperately, Sirius continues, “Studious, sensitive, totally-unaware-of-how-shaggable-he-is Moony! I’m such an irresponsible screw-up. He’ll never want to be with someone like me, and I can’t blame him.”

‘Never’ implies the impossible. I don’t believe anything is impossible. “I haven’t noticed anything particularly shaggable about Remus-”

“Better keep it that way,” Sirius grumbles threateningly.

Ignoring him, I go on, “But I have noticed that he’s never had a girlfriend, and that he doesn’t ever complain when you drape yourself all over him.” I can’t believe that until now I dismissed Sirius constantly using Remus as a headrest as a side-affect of them both having canine forms and having the animal instinct to ‘dog pile.’ I won’t be mentioning this bout of obliviousness on my part to the lovely Lily Evans the next time that I manage to speak to her.

He crosses his arms moodily. “As much as I love you placating me like a kid, we all know that Remus doesn’t date because of his furry little problem.”

“That’s what he says ‘cause it’s an easy excuse, but there’s gotta be more to it.” The instant I say it aloud I recognise the truth in it. “And what about how touchy-feely you two are?”

He shrugs. “Prolly doesn’t mean anything to him.”

I’m not convinced. Sirius’ body language around Moony practically announces ‘I want to get into Remus’ pants!’ and the fact that Remus doesn’t discourage Padfoot’s touches at all pretty much screams the same thing. Their contact isn’t like the type that Sirius shares with me. Sirius and I are simply comfortable with each other; the puppies are much more…cuddly, as horrendously feminine as the term is, happens to be the word that I’m seeking. Sirius doesn’t seem to recognise this, though, so I bring up a different point.

“How about how uncomfortable he gets when your fan club comes around?”

Another shrug is the response I receive. “He doesn’t like crowds.”

I roll my eyes at how he’s intentionally refusing hope to protect himself from potential heartbreak. “We heard him moan your name in his sleep once,” I remind him. At the time, I hadn’t thought much of it. After all, my mates have roles in my dreams sometimes, just not the romantic ones.

“He was…” Is Sirius blushing? No, my vision must be off since I’m not wearing my glasses. “He was likely just groaning about me doing something that annoyed him. It was close to the full, and you know how easy he is to set off then.”

That’s what I’d initially presumed, too. Now, however… “He woke up with an erection, Sirius.”

Holy shite, he is blushing! “I noticed.” It takes a great deal of effort for me to stop myself from chuckling at this. “But, well, everybody gets morning wood sometimes.”

It’s time to take drastic measures. I forcefully uncross Sirius’ arms and lay my head on his chest. “Do you hear that?”

“The voice of a Potter that I’m going to throttle soon?” queries Sirius without any true malice.

“The sound of a heart trying to burst free and give itself to the best werewolf that we know,” I exclaim. It’s a rather romantic declaration if I do say so myself.

“He’s the only werewolf that we know,” he deadpans.

“Irrelevant.” I sit up again.

Sirius sits up, too. “Why’re you trying to convince me I have a shot with him? How come you’re acting like you want us to get together? Wouldn’t things be weird for you if we did? Wouldn’t it be awkward for you to wonder if you’d find your best mates shagging every time you went up to the dorm?”

This is a significant question, and I consider it carefully. “Actually, no.” At his snort of disbelief, I elaborate, “Look, it’s not like I want to see you lads doing it doggy style, all right? But I’ve kind-of always worried about what would happen to the Marauders if we each found a girl. If you get together, then nothing will change. All that’ll happen is that when Pete’s in the kitchen and I’m off with Evans when she finally admits that she wants me, you two will be snogging instead of playing chess. No one gets added to, or dropped from, the group.”

Sirius smiles. He clearly enjoys the idea of snogging Remus. This time, I do laugh at him. Fortunately, it doesn’t bother him.

“Besides,” I continue cheerfully, “I’ve never met a girl that I thought was good enough for my dearest Paddy-poo or darling Moony-kins. I approve of you for each other. Remus can keep you calm, and you can keep Remus from spending his entire life in the library.” I don’t understand why I didn’t realise how well-matched they are before today. No one aside from Remus has the patience to deal with Sirius’ mood swings, and no one aside from Sirius has the tenacity to protect a werewolf who stubbornly insists that he doesn’t need protection.

“I’m so glad that Papa Prongs approve of who ickle Sirius wants to date.” His voice is sarcastic, but the statement is genuine. Sirius and I care a great deal what the other one thinks.

I grin at him. “His addiction to chocolate is a bit unhealthy, but, besides that, he’s a smashing person.”

Sirius’ eyes narrow dangerously. “You act like you’re part of his fan club.”

He’s so jealous and paranoid that I almost feel sorry for Remus. Of course, Remus has such a low opinion of himself - which I don’t understand at all - that he’ll probably find it more flattering than exasperating…at least some of the time. More importantly than Sirius’ bizarre possessiveness, what’s this about a fan club? I thought only Padfoot and I were subjected to hordes of stalkers. “How d’you know there’s a club? Are you a member?” I tease.

“No!” Sirius sniffs haughtily as if the concept is offensive. After a pause, he adds, “And, if you’re interested, meetings are Thursdays at five.”

We stare at each other for a few seconds before we burst into laughter. It’s good to have Laughing Sirius around instead of the Sulking Sirius that he was when he arrived.

“You really are going to play matchmaker, aren’t you?” It’s hard to distinguish if Sirius is more anxious or excited at the prospect. “I was afraid that you’d interfere. Oh, sweet God in Heaven!” Definitely anxious. Oh well. Nerves don’t suit Sirius, so he’ll get over it and join me in full-plotting mode by morning.

“Oh, sweet Sirius in Bedroom, we’ve known each other long enough for you to start calling me ‘James.’” I get a face full of pillow for this comment. War has been declared!

After Sirius and I manage to tire ourselves out via attacks on one another with fluffy objects, we fall into our respective beds and begin to drift off to dreamland.

I doubt that I want to be privy to the details of what is probably going to happen to Remus in Sirius’ dreams, but I’m confident that my own dreams will be filled with brilliant schemes. I know that I can get them together! I have the determination of a..of a…I can’t think of a good metaphor, but the point is that I have a lot of determination!

A Marauder can do anything.

Name: TonksAsKid
House: Hufflepuff
Did you write it? No

I tweaked it a little, mostly grammar and punctuation.

I liked this one because it felt like being inside the head of James, and it was very funny, though there's are these moments- one a comment Uncle Alf, makes and some thoughts James has that caused my blood to chill, and almost broke my heart. See if you can find them. I know you can use this thread for comments too (at least LHH encouraged us to do so in the past), so please comment.
Enjoy!

James doesn't much care for Petunia Evans.
Set just after Lily and James finish their 7th year at Hogwarts.
Once a Marauder, always a Marauder!

The Engagement Party
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5045508/1/The_Engagement_Party
by Cymberline

I yawned and rumpled my hair. It was early. Far, far too early to even be awake, let alone dressed (in a suit, mind you! Sirius would find this hilarious) and having breakfast. But I, James Potter, hater of the early morning, was awake, well dressed and having breakfast.

This is what happens when you fall in love with the most wonderful, crazy, feisty, beautiful, delicious, gorgeous woman on the whole planet. You have to get up early in the middle of your first summer as a non-student and go to a sodding breakfast with her extended family to celebrate her evil sister’s engagement to a walrus. Sorry, man-walrus.

Have I mentioned how much I hate Lily’s sister? Oh, I haven’t? Well, I loathe Petunia Evans, soon to be Dursley, with every fibre of my being. Not just because she’s gotten me up early, but because of how she treats Lily. The look on her face, the sneer she gets when she sees Lily smile at me, or catches her using her wand. It makes my blood boil. It’s just this look of fear and jealous rage... A bloody great Slytherin, she is. A right match for ol’ Snivelly. Lily tries to hide that it hurts her, you see. For some reason, she loves her great prat of a sister, but Petunia doesn’t seem to care about that. But I see through her pretending. So, today, I’ve made a decision. I’m going to pay Petunia back.

This isn’t just for waking me up early, though that’s definitely part of it.
I’m sure you’re thinking I should be well past these childish pranks, now that I’m mature and finished with school. But I’m really not, deep down. I’ve always just enjoyed a good bit of mayhem. I believe it was Padfoot who told me you’re either a Marauder for life, or not at all. I think he’s right. Smart bloke, my best mate.

So, anyway. Lily’s mum is sitting over at the head of the table, chatting to Dursley’s mother. I’m sitting between Lily, and her mad old Uncle, looking around at the Evans’ close extended family, and Dursley’s hideous immediate relatives. His parents and sister are taking up the majority of one side of the long table. Marge, the sister, is a few years older than him and breeds dogs. Understandably, as I doubt she’ll ever breed humans. She may have even barked at me before, though I couldn't really tell. When she got up to go to the loo, I almost died from my desire to trip jinx her, but I refrained. It was just too easy to let her have it.

This is perhaps one of the poshest restaurants I’ve been in, and I must say it’s incredibly boring. Everything’s white and crystal and the waiter keeps eyeing my hair like he thinks he can shave it off me when I’m not looking. I surreptiously rumple my hair, and wish very hard Sirius was here with me.

“So James, you met Lily through school, did you?” Great Uncle Alfred asks me kindly from my right. I’ve met Uncle Alf about six times now, and he’s asked me this every time. He’s getting on a bit these days, and isn’t as sharp as he used to be. But cracking bloke, even if a bit senile.

“Yes sir,” I reply, smiling. “She hated me for 6 or so years, and then got over it and realised how charming and lovely I am, and now she’s going to be stuck with me for the rest of her life.”

He laughed, “Ah yes, that’s right. I’ve asked you that before, haven’t I?”

“No sir, I don’t think you have.” I tell him politely. Lily chuckles from my left, and shoots me a grin.

“Oh good! Just thought I’d check. I’ve been getting a bit senile, you see.”

“No!” I gasp, feigning shock. “You’re a spring chicken, Alf. How could you be getting senile?”

He laughs and claps me on the shoulder. “Ah, you’re a good boy, Jimmy.” He turns to Lily, “You keep this one, you hear me, Lils? He’s a charmer.”

Lily smiles at him warmly and takes my hand. “Thanks, Uncle Alf, I’ll do just that.”

“Lot nicer than that Vernon bloke,” he whispers to us in conspiring tones, “Lot less of him, too. Lils, he’ll probably live longer!”

“Alfred!” Great Aunt Betty hisses. “What have I told you about saying that?”

“Not to say it?” He replies innocently.

Lily and I snigger into our coffee cups, and then share a grin. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look as beautiful as she does today. She has her hair up in this fancy bun, and she’s dressed in this deep green dress. She’s all shoulders and collarbones and perfect red lips. I’m going to marry her and we’re going to have seven kids and they’re all going to be perfect and excellent at Quidditch, and all our neighbours will hate us because we’re so noisy and our kids always beat their kids at everything. Alf and Betty continued to bicker about Alf’s big mouth in whispers, shooting looks at Petunia and Vernon, hoping they can't hear.

I lean closer to Lily and whisper, “We’re going to be just like them when we’re old.”

She rolls her eyes. “I hope not. You’re enough of a hassle without going senile on me to boot.”

I kiss her cheek. “Ah, but you’d be terribly bored without me.” She gives a non-committal sound of semi-agreement, and I add, “And don’t forget, Lily, I’m a good boy.”

She snorts, ignores my comment and puts a piece of bacon onto my plate. “Eat up, dear.”

I chew my bacon and watch my brother-in-law-to-be in silence, contemplating how best to ruin his perfectly slicked down hair-do. Appalling dress sense, this Vernon bloke. He was talking loudly about his new job at a drill company, and his chances for promotion (excellent, apparently). To be honest with you, I’m not even sure what a drill is and I’m horribly bored with this conversation. I cannot imagine how Petunia must feel, listening to that dribble daily. Hell, she’s going to listen to it daily for the rest of her life. And even with that knowledge, I still feel like I ought to ruin this party. You know, just because. That’s just how I roll.

“So, Petunia,” I call loudly over Vernon. I feel Lily stiffen next to me. “Petunia, do you like drills too?” Lily kicks me under the table.

Petunia arches an eyebrow at me, and purses her lips. “Yes,” she answers curtly, and puts the tiniest bit of bacon in her mouth and chews it ferociously. I feel elated. She absolutely loathes me! Uncle Alf gives me a wink.

“You really like them?" I ask incredulously, encouraged by the wink.

“They sound, well, rather boring.” Lily kicks me harder, and Alf sprays his orange juice all over the pristine tablecloth of the fancy restaurant in laughter. Betty is unimpressed. So are the Dursleys. I barely contain a smirk.

“I beg your pardon!” spurts Vernon, going purple. “What is it you do for living then, Potter?” Lily drops her head into her hands.

“Well, after getting top grades in all my subjects at school, I wanted to go into government,” I lie smoothly. What a joke! I’d sooner die than join the Ministry! “But my mother is very ill at the moment, and quite aged, so someone has to take care of her. I have no brothers or sisters, so there’s only me to do it.”

There are resounding noises of sympathy and Alf pats me on the back.

“There, there, lad,” he tells me, “You’ll get there eventually.”

Petunia glares daggers at me, and Lily’s cheeks are the same colour as her hair. Marge is barking orders at the waiter and shooting me glares, but I’m gleeful. I’m winning. The conversation soon moves away from my apparently dying mother and Lily whispers to me angrily, “Your mother is perfectly well! I suggest you owl her later and make sure of it, James Potter!”

I give her my best devilish grin. “Mum’s a battleaxe, Lily, she’ll be right!”

Lily has fire in her eyes and spears a kipper with unwonted venom. Aside from Lily’s anger, my plan was going rather well. The gruesome twosome are flustered, I’ve found an ally in Alf, and an easy target in Marge. Perfect. Vernon is eyeing the last chipolata. I quickly tossup between stealing it first, or transfiguring it into a goat. I settle on magic, but decide against transfiguration. Too obvious.

He goes to spear it with his fork, and the chipolata moves away. He glares at it, perplexed, and tries again. Again, the chipolata moves away. I can practically hear him grinding his teeth in frustration. I stifle my laughter. Vernon Dursley is man of very little patience, and this chipolata was definitely pushing it. He stabs at it again, this time deciding it’s a good idea to go at it faster and harder.

I allow myself the smallest snigger and move it again. His ham-like hand slams into the plate, causing a loud bang, and the chipolata to be shot into the air. The whole table gasps and we all watch as the chipolata sails towards Petunia, to land-

Down the front of her brand new, extremely expensive, salmon coloured chiffon dress. Petunia shrieks in horror, and suddenly there is chaos where there was calm. Petunia is out of her chair, screeching and stamping her feet, trying to get the offending piece of meat out of her dress. Vernon is purple in the face again and on his feet too, one hand down her front, trying to pull the thing out. She grabs her matching salmon handbag and wallops him over the head with it.

“YOU’RE NOT HELPING, VERNON!” she yells shrilly, trying to jerk away from him. He takes his hand back quickly, looking shocked. With a final shake of her skirts, the chipolata falls out at long last. I think I’ve cracked a rib from containing my laughter.

With a loud sob, Petunia sprints towards the bathroom, the beginnings of a tantrum clear on her face. The waiters are suddenly surrounding us, cleaning Vernon’s mess. Vernon is cutting up fried tomatoes, and eating them with gusto as if nothing has happened. His mother is apologising for him profusely, and the rest of the patrons in the restaurant are eyeing our party with thinly veiled distaste.

“I’ll go after her,” says Marge importantly, getting to her feet. “This needs a delicate touch.” She looks at Lily as she says it, a rather nasty, contemptuous smile on her face.

Lily glares, half-way out of her seat, and sits back down. How dare she look at my Lily like that! I eye her, my fist clenched around my wand. Marge has squeezed herself into a horrible slate-grey dress suit with tacky gold buttons and matching gold shoes. This time, I don’t resist the trip jinx.

Uncle Alf roars with laughter as the obese bird goes flying through the air, screaming all the way. In an attempt to prevent herself from falling flat on her face, Marge stretches out a hand to steady herself. This results in her grasping onto the table cloth of the couple at the table next to us, and pulling their breakfast down with her, right on top of her head.

It was glorious.

“Marge!” Vernon shouts, alarmed, and on his feet again. The Dursleys rush over to pick up their daughter, who is sobbing and in a complete state of shock. Lily and her mother run over to help Marge, with everyone apologising loudly to the shocked restaurant owner. The couple having breakfast are on their feet, yelling at the restaurant staff to do something. I can hear them both complaining about having tomato sauce in their shoes. The rest of the restaurant is in the shambles, talking loudly and pointing at Marge. Many people were laughing wildly, while others grumbled about the disturbed piece.

“OH MY GOODNESS!” Petunia yells, her eyes wide, “Marge! What happened, is she alright?” There is much discussion as Marge is led back to the table, and Vernon hands the owner a small bundle of bills and mutters an apology for, “all this unfortunate nonsense”.

“Oh no, everything is ruined!” Petunia wailed, “My engagement party is ruined!”

“We’ll have another, sweetheart,” Vernon promised her, “One as big and as showy as you like!” Petunia proceeds to wail loudly into his shoulder, smearing make-up, tears and snot all over his new suit.

I gave Uncle Alf a nudge and tipped him with my champagne. He grinned and knocked his glass roughly against mine. The champagne spills everywhere, and we grin at one another. I cannot wait to go home and owl Sirius.

I turn to find emerald eyes burning into mine, questioning my innocence. I give her an impish grin and a careless shrug of my shoulders.

No one messes with my Lily.

Name: Lady Tsukiko Kuonji
House: Hufflepuff
Did you write it? Original story.

The first day of school.

All was quiet in the little house at Godric's Hollow. It was one minute to six in the morning.
And then, a small, cauldron-shaped alarm-clock leapt up on one brass foot and clanged.
A small, black-haired boy woke with a start. He grinned and ran out the door of his bedroom.
"Mom! Dad! Wake up! Wake up!" he screamed, at the top of his voice. He banged with a lot of force on their door, and when this did not work, he grabbed the handle, and tugged on it as hard as he could. The door opened, and he ran into the room.
"MOM! DAD! WAKE UP! WE'LL MISS THE TRAIN!!" he cried, shaking them.
"James, come on. The train leaves eight hours from now." his father said.
James did not think that this was a good enough excuse.
"I WANT TO BE ON IT NOW!!!" he wailed.
His mothe put hear hand to her head. "James, be patient, please" she admonished him.
After a short breakfast, which James fidgeted all the way through, they set off for the station. His mother took away his Invisibility Cloak once they got there, and put it in his trunk, since the little brat kept trying to put it on to run off to platform nine and three quarters. "We are going to have lunch FIRST." she said, firmly.
James complained that the beans were boring.
Both parents rolled their eyes. They were beginning to look forward to his departure.
At fifteen to two, both parents grabbed James and brought him to platform nine and three quarters. Lucas Potter put his son in the trolley. "This is the last time I let you, kid" he said, smiling.
They crossed the barrier.
And James proudly walked into the train, and sat down in the first compartment he saw- one containing a boy much like himself, with shaggy black hair.
"Hey" said the boy.
And thus, the most ridiculous pair of troublemakers hogwarts has ever known (with the possible exception of the Weasley Twins) met.

Thanks so much LHH and Tsukiko! biggrin I'm quite proud of that one. heart

Everyone entered such great fics for James that it was difficult to choose which one to vote for!