Outrunning Our Shadows

Disclaimer:  All characters (but those I've invented) belong to JK Rowling and the respective publishing houses.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made on this story apart from the personal enjoyment I get in writing it.

 

A/N: Yeah, so I'm writing another long chapter here. Btw, this chapter's got some language in it. This is where it's PG-13. Also, I don't know if you do or don't, but definitely read the lyrics in this chapter as you go - they're clues about what's going on that I'm not directly writing. They add flavor to the chapter, and are an integral part - if you skip them, you might miss some stuff. Just a note. At any rate, enjoy the chapter!

 

Outrunning Our Shadows

 

A Strange Condition

 

Lily stayed in the Wizarding World, for now at least. Big sigh of relief for me, that's for sure. The morning after I talked with Lily and once again lost out on a good deal of sleep (grumble), I went and spoke to Professor McGonagall. As the Head of House, I thought that perhaps she would be the best to start talking to, before going to Professor Dumbledore for advice. In any case, she was guaranteed to be more straightforward in her answers, and would likely avoid needling me about my personal feelings and anything unusual that I wanted to get off my chest. Just because he's my unofficial guardian doesn't make him in charge of all of my affairs. If I wanted to talk to him about girls, I would. I haven't. He's just got that bloody smirk and eye-twinkle combination. Drives me batty.

So, instead of going to the Headmaster, I went to the small office off to the side of the Transfiguration classroom, where, sure enough, my Head of House was sitting, thin-lipped, marking parchment with a correction quill. Looking up at my knock, she waved me to a straight-back chair and returned to her corrections. After a few moments, she set down her quill crisply, removed her spectacles and folded them neatly at the side of her desk, folded her arms on her desk and pursed her lips, looking at me sharply. In a voice only slightly less authoritative than her teaching voice, she questioned, “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Mr. Potter? Surely you did not come down to confess to some mischief?”

Good old Minnie. I can always count on her to make me feel like a flubbering first year. “No, Professor,” I said politely, or as politely as I could manage. There were several pranks that I had yet to be incriminated for, and I was not inclined to do time ex post facto. “I actually wanted your advice about something.”

That got her attention. Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward slightly. “My advice, Mr. Potter? Well, I'm flattered that you've come to me instead of the Headmaster, but what could I offer you advice about?”

“Well, Professor, it's like this…” I began, and tried, with concise sentences, to recap everything that had happened after Lily came back from the funeral. Leaving out my dream and nighttime prowling, I told Professor McGonagall about my fears for Lily, her own confessions, and my frustration at not being able to affect a change in this seemingly hopeless situation. Throughout my soliloquy, McGonagall was silent, eyebrows furrowing at moments, lips becoming alternately thin and round in an “o” of astonishment. By the time I finished my recital, with a plea for her guidance and perhaps the support of the professors during Lily's mental convalescence, my strict and prim Head of House was dabbing at her wet eyes with a handkerchief, showing real concern on her countenance. I was slightly alarmed at her emotional state, and detachedly wished I'd had a camera so I could provide evidence of this momentous occurrence.

At length, she spoke, tone much softer than when I had arrived. “Oh my,” she said, in a slightly croaky voice. “Yes, of course. I understand it must be very difficult for…oh goodness, I hadn't expected. Of course we'll make every necessary accommodation. I shall speak with the other professors at once. Oh, the poor girl.” Fumbling around her desk, my transformed Transfiguration professor clumsily took quill and parchment and wrote a note to herself, hands shaking slightly. I just sat there, mouth agape, thoroughly gob-smacked by her disorientation.

After a moment, having collected herself, she continued. “Now, Potter. I expect you to act in a manner befitting your friendship and station. Miss Evans is not to be coddled or babied, she is a mature sixth year Prefect, and we must strive to remind her of this. She is a big girl, and will overcome this great challenge.” Dabbing her eyes once more, she waved me toward the door, clearly dismissing me. As I left, I could hear her monologue, “Oh, the poor dear. Now, if I were her mother…”

After that meeting, I was able to see a change in how the professors treated Lily. They acted with a little more deference, and, much to my chagrin, decided that I would now be acting as the know-it-all in class, which caused me to be called on to demonstrate. Despite my grousing, even I had to admit that it was good practice.

While I had originally foreseen these extra measures to help Lily open up more, I didn't expect Lily to act as she did. She participated more in class, though on a slightly lower level. Shying away whenever I wanted to talk, she gave me excuses of “Not now, James” and “I've got a headache, maybe later.” Some thanks I get.

She comes out of closets every night

But then she locks herself away

Where she could keep everything from me

I could have been anyone you see

By the end of Wednesday, I was so thoroughly torqued about this new development that I skipped lunch on Thursday and went to talk to Hagrid, the school's Keeper of Keys and Grounds. Always a voice of reason, and usually the one person who would tell me exactly what I needed to hear, and not just what I wanted to hear, Hagrid wasn't one to beat around the bush. Unless, of course, he was trying to keep a secret. Whenever this happened, a few nudges and, “Hagrid…,” and he'd cave like a hippogriff to flattery. It was for this reason that I sought him out. I needed answers, and if anyone had them, it would be Hagrid.

I found the Groundskeeper in his hut, heating up some meal for his boarhound pup, Fang. His new obsession with the dog was a welcome change from his previous endeavors with snakes and unruly beasts, which he somehow decided could live behind his hut without anyone noticing. After having greeted me upon entering the hut, Fang padded over to a rug by the fire, walked around in a circle a few times, and flopped down, chomping happily on a bone. Hagrid spared him a fond glance and a gentle smile before turning his attention to me, offering me some tea that he'd made fresh this morning. Declining politely, stomach protesting any food that Hagrid would make himself, I casually eased from small talk into mention of Lily. Knowing how easily he could be trapped into spilling information, I opened with, “I know I haven't been to see you in a while, Hagrid, but I've been talking to Lily, and she thought that you could use some company.”

“I can' see why she'd say tha',” the big burly man said, frowning. “She's been down ter see me twice since…well…the incident. If anythin', I'd say she'd be the one who'd be needin' some company.” He paused, to take a sip of his tankard of tea, downing the entire glass and moving to refill it.

Got it in one. Now that Hagrid had divulged that information, I tried to press him for more, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to simply come out and say, Say, Hagrid, my best friend's ignoring me and hanging out with new people. Did she give you a reason? Do I smell that bad? Nah, this was to be a practice in subtlety - not my strong suit. But, as Remus intoned in my head, professor-style, “Practice makes perfect, James. In order to gain information from a reluctant source, you must act as if you already possess the information, and merely invite the other person to elaborate and comment.”

Weighing my options, I tried to take Moony's guidance. “Hagrid,” I asked, “did Lily happen to bake you any fruit tortes while she was down here? I'm actually quite starving for one of her creations, and I know when she comes to visit that she likes to give you cooking lessons.” Take the bait, Hagrid. Come on.

“Actually,” he said, returning to the table with another steaming hot tankard of murky tea-like water, “she didn' bake anythin'. Didn' even tell me wha' was botherin' `er. Jest came fer tea and a hug, and she played with Fang here for a spurt. I know things're rough, but she's never turned down cookin' afore.” He shook his head emphatically, black eyes concernedly fixed on me, as if I could tell him why all this was happening. With his over-large stature, it was sometimes difficult to remember that Hagrid was the owner of one of the biggest hearts of anyone I knew - despite his predilection toward dangerous creatures, he never turned away from one that was sick, or from a student who was having a bad day. Lily being one of his favorites, he'd always invite her into his hut, and, several hours later, amid savory aromas wafting out behind her, Lily would usually return to the dorm, covered in flour, smile a little brighter from having spent some quality time with the groundskeeper. Now, Hagrid regarded me seriously. “Yeh don' think she's in trouble, do yeh?”

I chose my words carefully, so as not to worry Hagrid further. “I'm sure she'll be fine, Hagrid. I think she just isn't in the cooking mood lately, with her parents and all. I'm sure she'll be up to it soon, don't you worry.” My work done, I wanted to get back to school to think about what he'd told me. I wanted to confront a certain redhead. Looking at my watch (Don't just sit there! Lunch is over!), I also realized that I needed to high-tail it if I wanted to make it to Defense Against the Dark Arts on time. Muttering a hurried goodbye to Hagrid, and promising over my shoulder to visit him next week, I ran back to the castle, nearly tripping over the hems of my robes.

Once in Defense Against the Dark Arts, where I arrived with labored breath and in advance of Professor King, I collapsed next to Sirius, nodding a quick hello to him and Peter, who was standing behind him, before throwing my head down on my arms in an attempt to regain some of my lost energies. Thinking about my mad dash through the corridors, I was grateful that I'd bypassed Peeves and Filch, who would have assuredly been pleased to gift me with a detention or three for disrupting the sanctity of his halls. Honestly, his very presence disrupts them enough, even without students and ghosts lumbering about. I concentrated on regulating my breathing as I calmed my racing heart. Perhaps I need to step up the training in Quidditch - I don't want to be losing my edge.

The heavy door slammed audibly, jolting me out of my Quidditch reverie. Raising my head blearily, I noticed that Professor King had entered the room, grandly processing down to the wide desk and podium at the base of the amphitheatre-style classroom. Rutherford JH King, a five-year alumnus of Hogwarts (Ravenclaw House), a high-brow swot who'd grown up with the impression that only Ravenclaws were born with brains in their heads, and therefore was wont to give them the edge in all things academic. Since we shared the class with Ravenclaw, it was always a challenge to prove yourself in his class. It was to our everlasting amusement that Remus never failed to answer a question correctly, no matter if King asked a question that was several years more advanced than we were currently studying. Whenever one of us, though mostly Remus, would answer when his house couldn't, a small tick would appear around his eyes, and he would form fists with his hands even as a tight smile appeared on his lips. He grudgingly gave points to Gryffindor, but was much more fond of taking off points for not knowing the intimate details about his research studies in Africa with one of the prominent wizards in the field of DADA, Slatero Quirrel.

Goodness, you'd think by now we could recite the man's life story. Mr. Quirrel this, and Mr. Quirrel that, Professor King was in awe of the man who it seemed could do anything. Anything, that is, except go out in the field himself. Mr. Quirrel was, evidently, more fond of a dusty library or a second-hand account of an encounter with a Dark creature than actually discovering for himself. No wonder he was a Hufflepuff. As it was, Professor King taught very little about Dark Arts themselves, but was much more fond of theories and postulates written by the great Mr. Quirrel.

Beginning another class period by collecting our persuasive essays on the best way to identify and subdue a werewolf, a standard WWQD question (also known as “What would Quirrel do?”), Professor King paused at the desk where Patricia Worthington and Francis Clearwater usually sat, directly in the front of the classroom. Addressing the student who was seated in what was normally Patrica's seat, Professor King said, “Why Miss Evans. Finally decided that you might learn more by sitting with those gifted in this subject than those who merely muddle their way to a passing grade? I must commend you, for even a reasonably intelligent witch such as yourself ought to have appropriate role models.” Taking her parchment and adding it to the stack that he was collecting, he made several unintelligible noises as he leafed through the pages, nodding as he evidently saw “improvement” from her association with the Ravenclaw girls.

Lily smiled slightly and returned her attention to where Francis was pointing, speaking in low tones with excitement. From my vantage point near the door on the outer ring of desks, I could make out some archaic writing and a sketch of a plant in a yellowed book, which likely had been collecting dust in some obscure corner of the Library. It hit me then that Lily wasn't even sitting with us during class. I glanced at Sirius next to me, who shrugged back at me. Looking past Sirius to where Lily normally sat, I saw that Peter had taken her place next to Remus, since he normally sat behind us with one of his Ravenclaw friends, Mihall O'Shaunessy, who served as a tutor for when Peter really didn't understand something and we couldn't explain it properly. He too, gave me a bewildered look when I gave him a pointed look.

I cast my mind to the last few days and combed my memory of Lily's actions for any alterations from normal. She had been studying much more than usual, spending most of her waking hours in the Library with Patricia and Francis, and occasionally Bethany Robbins, the 7^th Year Ravenclaw Prefect. Those four could be found hunched over their assignments and extra projects even during meals, where Lily would often join them at the Ravenclaw table. Since Sunday, she'd taken to carrying several extra books around with her, claiming that they were to help her in her research for some class or another. We usually let her go, thinking that she was healing well, if she was able to be comfortable in the classroom setting again. God, how foolish I've been, letting her hide behind one of the oldest defense mechanisms known to man.

She's nothing but porcelain underneath her skin

Totally ignoring the lecture that King was droning on about, I mentally berated myself. How could I have not seen it? Lily's “healing” wasn't happening at all. She was just trying to find somewhere she was able to make her worth plain in the Wizarding world. Tell a witch she's worth more than some of the purebloods in the school, and what does she go do? Set out to spend her life proving it. Burying herself in needless homework, ignoring her friends and hiding from them when they ask if they can help with anything, Lily wasn't healing so much as she was prodding the wound to make sure it still hurt. I growled silently, mad at Lily for being an unreasonable female, and mad at myself for being an unobservant male.

Doesn't she know what she's doing to herself? To us? A part of me felt a pang of loss when I looked again toward Peter, knowing that Lily had deliberately chosen to sit somewhere other than with us. It just didn't seem right or fair to us, when we were only trying to support her in her grieving period. I wondered, did she realize that hiding from her friends won't solve anything? God, she might as well have disowned us anyway. The gall of it all was that she knew exactly what she was doing. Lily was a smart person, and it wouldn't take the Great Slatero Quirrel to realize that hiding from your fears only makes them seem bigger and scarier than they need be. I'd had to bring Lily out of her first grief stage by the lake before she left, and again in the Prefect's Lounge on Monday. Now, as I watched Lily raise her hand to answer one of Professor King's riddles, I set my jaw, concluding that I would need to confront Lily a third time.

Sitting up straight abruptly, I reached for my quill and a piece of parchment. Sirius, who'd been startled by my sudden movement, looked at me in inquiry. Taking in his features which were laced with concern, presumably for Lily, I hissed at him, “I'll tell you later,” and jerked my head toward the cluster of Ravenclaw girls. Grimacing and nodding, Sirius returned his focus to the front of the room and crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed and brooding gaze focused on some far spot in the classroom. Meeting Remus's eyes above Peter's bowed head as he took furious notes, I repeated my soundless message, Remus reacting in a similar style, frowning and flicking his gaze over to Lily before looking back at the professor. Noticing my preoccupation, Peter spared a look in my direction. Glaring first at Lily and then at me, his look was clearly one of, Well? Am I the only one that sees the problem? I rolled my eyes and nodded as I grimaced, signaling that I would try to take care of the situation. Satisfied momentarily, Peter returned to his notes, jabbing his quill forcefully in his ink pot, causing several blots to spill on his already messy notes.

A few moments later, I gave a slip of parchment to Dierdre, who sat in front of me, with instructions to pass it along to Lily. Giving me a curt nod, she handed the note off to Nan in front of her, who tapped on Francis's shoulder. Taking the note from Nan, who pointed up at me, Francis gave me a questioning glance, and I tilted my head to indicate Lily, who was sitting next to her. I could see the eye-roll from my seat, obviously thinking my tactics immature, but still she passed the note under the table to Lily, who took it, wide-eyed. Opening it, Lily's eyes quickly narrowed, and her mouth set in a thin line as she whirled around to look at me. Her eyes blazing, she nodded curtly, indicating acceptance of my challenge. I returned a look which I hoped to say “Well, you asked for it.” The note was then crumpled in a ball as Lily's hand made a fist, and she set it prominently on her desk, screaming defiance.

Your room. 3pm. We need to talk.

Prefects each had their own room, even though we usually didn't use them. They were so small and cramped, we used them more as quiet meeting places than actually living quarters, and, since our dorm rooms still had enough beds for us, we usually left the Prefect rooms for late-night snogs and hide-aways. Telling her to meet in her room signaled that this was no polite chat, but one where I didn't want any outside interference or eavesdropping. Frankly put, I was asking for a row. An honest, full-fledged row with Lily. As far as I was concerned, it would be the most she's spoken to me for days, and perhaps I'd get something out of her than deflection.

~~~~~~

Lily's room was set up as a bookroom. She had fashioned wall-to-wall bookshelves, overflowing with novels from the Muggle world, textbooks from both worlds, and even had a chronological collection of Daily Prophet clippings dating from her first year at Hogwarts. I suppose she thought she might need them eventually, but at the moment it just reinforced to me the recent developments of Lily retreating from her friends back into the world of books and academics. The only furnishings in the room were a large squashy bean bag, which was a concession to Muggle comfort, a wooden rocking chair with red cushions, and an upholstered red loveseat with golden pillows, which was decorated with a golden blanket thrown over the backing. Lily currently sat in the rocking chair, arms securely settled in the grooves of the armrests, rocking slowly back and forth as she stared at me unblinking, seemingly poised for our imminent tiff. She'd been in the same position since I opened the door at a minute past 3, with a slight grumble as if indicating that at least she could be punctual.

I made no moves to sit down. I stood about five feet from her chair, arms crossed and feet slightly apart, hoping that my disapproving look would be at least a slight bit imposing. Instead, I started right in with, “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Giving no evidence of finding my stance daunting in the least, Lily raised an eyebrow at my opening. Still she spoke no word, and gave nothing away of her internal emotions. God, she knows me too well. Using my pet peeve of silence against me, Lily gained the upper hand without doing so much as extending a finger.

Feeling slightly thwarted, but still knowing that I'd have to push through to get some verbal response, I continued. “Why are you changing so much? The last few days, where have you been? You don't talk to any of us, you avoid me like I have the… plague or something, and then you act as if nothing's wrong? Do you normally hang out with the Ravenclaws and get praise from King? You're not normally this closed off from your friends. What's happened to you?” I figured, inwardly, I might as well throw them all out at her. Then, at least she'd see that I was serious about this whole mess. It was tearing me up, and I was angry: angry at her for avoiding me, angry at myself for not seeing it sooner, and, somewhat detachedly, angry at Voldemort for providing the situation where such a rift could be created.

Lily's eyes flashed briefly as she spat back, “What the hell do you know? Don't you realize that grief changes people? I lost my whole bloody family, James. Petunia may be alive, but I lost the only two people who've loved me all my life. Don't you think that's going to change someone? Of course I'm affected.” Her eyes still boring into mine, she continued, accusingly, “And who the hell do you think you are, coming after me like some kind of watchdog, trying to bring me back to the pen with you and the rest of the mutts. I can live on my own, James. I don't need your permission or guidance.” She'd stopped rocking now, placing her feet solidly on the floor as her whole body went rigid, muscles showing her readiness in this battle of words.

I parried her thrust at my intentions with a disgusted, “God, you're ruining your life over this. Mourning is ok, but turning away from us isn't going to get you anywhere.” Did our talk on Monday mean nothing?

Lily shook her head, obviously annoyed. “You just don't get it, James.” Her tone implied that I was an intractable child, falsely proclaiming myself ready to take on the troubles of an adult.

That put me over the edge. I don't get it? Excuse me if I take offense.

“I'll have you know, Madame,” I spat viciously, “that I lost both my parents when I was a good bit younger than you are now, and I didn't even have a single relative left. I'm it as far as the Potter line is concerned. It's just me. Don't give me your bullshit about not getting it. I am a close friend of grief, Miss Priss. I know all about what it's like to lose it all in a moment.” Seeing her mouth open to reply, I held up a hand. “Don't give me your lip about `you know, you know, but it's different because they were Muggles and my parents were Aurors.' I don't want to hear it. You know why? Because Voldemort's winning right now. You might as well be supporting him, for the way you're acting.”

“Wh??” Lily was dumbfounded, looking at me with angry confusion. “Why on earth would I support him? Where'd you get that idea? I'm studying even harder to get to where I want to be: fighting him, certainly not helping him.”

Someday they'll open up your world

Shake you down to the drawing board

They'll do their best to change you

They still can't erase you

I shook my head slightly, closing my eyes for a moment before glaring at her with renewed intensity. “He's getting what he wants, either way. You're alienating all of your friends, and you're suffering for it. Don't give me any of your reasons that you're studying so hard to beat him later, and all the rest, because you studied enough when you hung around with us to do just fine by any standards. And, from what I saw in Defense today, looking at books on ancient legends of Herbology isn't going to be on the Entrance Exam to the British Charms Institute. In fact,” I continued taking a step forward to show my resolve, “you're so god-damned scared of hurting one of us that you're content to push us away. Isn't that right? You don't want to see us in your position. You're content to watch us from afar, like in a little snow globe, pretty to look at, but you don't want to shake it up for fear of consequences. Well, fuck you, Lily, because I'm going to fight. I'm not one of those people you can decide, day to day, whether to be friendly with or not.” Breathing noisily through my nose, I paused, giving Lily a hard stare. Voice dripping with disappointment, I added, “I expected better from you.”

Lily's eyes went wide for a moment, but she didn't say anything. Almost immediately, though, she closed her eyes tightly, lips pursed, and head tilted up toward the ceiling, as if collecting herself. I wondered whether she was trying to repress tears or angry remarks. I didn't have to wait long. After a minute of silence, with Lily rocking back and forth, eyes closed, I made a sound of disgust and started turning for the door, hoping to provoke a comment from Lily before I walked out on my best friend.

Sure enough, when she opened her eyes, I could feel the anger piercing straight through me. Her voice dripped with venom and tones of betrayal. “I don't need this. Especially not from you. I expected you at least to understand what I'm going through. But no. I guess you just don't understand, James. You don't understand me. At all.”

Yeah, that was a knife to the heart, right there. I felt like breaking down and crying. I didn't know how to process her last statement, and yet I couldn't show Lily how she'd scored on me. To hide the look of shock which was undoubtedly on my face, I turned around, walking toward the door slowly. Reaching the handle, I said, back still to Lily, “Fine. Escape into your little shell. Just don't leave us hanging. That's not fair. And you fucking know it.” A small noise behind me made me spin around.

Lily sat, chair rocking, eyes and nose buried in a book she'd obviously taken from the shelf nearest her. Her brow was furrowed, as if trying desperately to ignore me and my argument. I could tell she'd done that damn charm of hers, the Nohearums one, so it wouldn't have mattered what I said. And, anyway, she was always better at Charms than I was, so I wouldn't have been able to undo it if I'd tried.

Shake up your bones shake up your feet

I'm saying open up

And let the rain come pouring in

Wash out this tired notion

I shook my head, angry and sad and frustrated and totally stymied in how to approach this problem any other way, and just overwhelmed with disappointment at how unreasonable Lily was being. Feeling some of my hope seeping out of me, I said to the air in the room, “God damn it, Lily. Don't you see what you're doing to me?” Not seeing her look up or even register that I'd spoken, I walked through the door and slammed it behind me, taking care to make sure Lily would feel the vibrations, and know the level of my anger.

I didn't see, as I stalked to my own room to blow off some steam, the saddened and conflicting look that Lily had on her face as she watched the door slam, wiping the single tear that had fallen from her eyes off of her cheek, and returning to her book.

~~~~~

Quidditch practice that evening was an interesting affair. It was one of the first of the season, and we had a relatively experienced team, so we worked without much introduction for a while, each position splitting up and doing drills to improve aim, coordination, and team synchronization. Working with the other Chasers, I found it a cathartic exercise, to take out my anger on the Quaffle, flinging it without any control for velocity at the hoops at one end of the Pitch. The Keeper, Gareth Griffiths, was unfortunately in the way of one of my angry throws, and yelled back at me as he used his broom to hit the ball back to Dierdre, another Chaser, who we called Deedee on the Pitch. “Watch where you're throwing, Cap!” he called, chuckling slightly. Adding a fake aggrieved tone he said, “What'd I do?”

Tossing the Quaffle back and forth to Deedee and Chase Manhattan, a 7^th year, I called back, “Sorry there, Gary. Just feeling a bit off today, and need to work off a little extra energy.” Saying this, I chucked the ball back to Deedee, who was overbalanced by the force of it, and flipped over and under her broom in a complete circle. Coming up grinning, she called, “That's an awful lot of steam there, Potter!”

I attempted to rein in my angry energy for the rest of the two-hour practice, having come to the conclusion that I didn't need anyone in the Hospital Wing for something I did. I did, however, try to push myself to the limit, venting frustrations in miscalculations of throws or slight errors in flight trajectory by sending Quaffles at furious speeds spinning toward Gary, who, being a smart Keeper, caught most but let the harder ones slide, declaring that he wished to be in one piece once the evening was over.

After the two hours, sweaty, shaking, and still feeling as if I'd failed, I called my team down to the ground. In the moments before they settled, I cleared my head of all thoughts but Quidditch, and found myself remarkably calm in mind. I knew I was a good player, and that I was surrounded by good players. My argument with Lily had nothing to do with Quidditch. Repeating this as a mantra, I prepared myself mentally to deliver the traditional “Start of season” pep-talk.

The team listened attentively to my little spiel. I knew I came off as cock-sure and confident, but I knew that as Captain, I needed my players to have faith in me. I went through the normal routine, saying how the Quidditch Cup already had our names engraved in it, and how we had the best players out of any of the Houses. I truly believed it too, even our one new player, Assad Al-Rassan, a 3^rd year whose parents were from the Middle-East. He was a fierce-looking boy who seemed to be “as one with the Beater's club”; I knew he'd be a more than adequate replacement for Bilius Weasley, who'd graduated the year before, and was Bill's uncle.

Clustered around me were 5 other familiar faces: Sirius stood next to Assad, looking approvingly on as I rambled on about “hard work and yadda yadda yadda.” I wasn't even listening to me, the speech was so rote. Next to Sirius was Gary, a tall 7^th year with broad shoulders, a keen eye, and some of the quickest hands I'd seen in years. Standing in front of the was Aiden Lynch, our phenomenal Seeker, who'd joined the club as a 3^rd year, and had quickly dispelled any rumors that he might not be able to handle the responsibility. As a 5^th year, he had already begun talking about joining a professional Quidditch team following graduation, and his trips over the summer to the Magpie's training camp were definitely looking like they paid off as he had rocketed around during practice, little more than a scarlet blur chasing a golden streak. Now, he stood tall and proud, smiling slightly at me as I nodded at him. Chase stood next to him, arms crossed. Chase was a good guy, if a little too Quidditch-obsessed, but even though he wasn't the most naturally gifted Chaser, he worked hard to prove that he could keep up with the rest of them. I would be sad to see him graduate at the end of this year; his positive morale infected the entire group. Rounding out the circle was Deedee, whose hair was askew but whose face was alight with the joy of flying. I never stopped being amazed at how Quidditch transformed the girl, from being a bubbly socialite to a determined and exacting player.

Wrapping up the speech with the typical “Go get `em” line, everyone but Sirius trudged back to the broom shed to service and stow their brooms. Sighing loudly, I watched them go, and then turned my attention to my best mate, who was looking at me concernedly. “You alright there, Prongs? You seemed awfully vicious out there.”

“Yeah, Padfoot,” I said, frustration coming back but without the bite, “I've just…” ooh, don't want to mention Lily quite yet, “been feeling a little helpless lately. It's all this Voldemort stuff.” I considered telling Sirius about my two talks with Lily, but decided against it - Sirius didn't need any more reasons to want to go after the Dark Lord, especially not if one of their best friends was cutting herself off from the rest of the world because of his actions.

Sirius's jawline went rigid and his eyes hardened. “We'll get the bastard, James. I swear it by my life.” As I regarded him, I saw that he looked scarily adult at that moment, and I felt a pang of anger at Voldemort for stealing the laughter from Sirius, even for a moment.

I nodded, acknowledging what he'd said. On that note, he said he'd meet me back in the Great Hall for dinner, since I wasn't making any moves to come in yet. Feeling a new wave of anguish and anger, at Lily and myself, I took off, feet pounding the ground around the Pitch as I ran off the remains of my frustration. I knew there was nothing I could do about Voldie anytime soon, so instead, I imagined each worry and harsh word from this afternoon being ground into the sandy path which ringed the arena, trying to outrun the niggling thought that I may have pushed one best friend away, and had no idea what to do about it.

~~~~~

The remainder of the week, I lived by going through the motions. Lily made no effort to reunite herself with us, and we exchanged no words between classes or in the Common Room. During dinner, I found I had no appetite, and left early, excusing myself quickly. On Friday, I made my excuses to Philip Bones during Lunch, saying that I felt unbearably ill, and would be spending the evening with Madame Pomfrey. Accepting my apologies for missing the Prefects' Meeting, Phil said that Lily would be more than capable of handling the House matters. Tight-lipped, he suggested that I get some sleep, and assured me that he'd sent Lily with some notes for me to help contribute with the newest Prefect duties that were being discussed tonight. Agreeing to just about anything to get away from the officious Hufflepuff, I made a motion to indicate a headache, and gave him a slightly sickened look before turning and walking back to the tower.

Luckily for me, I didn't have any significant classes on Friday afternoons, just Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Kettleburn, and I'd be able to play off an illness to him at our next class. Instead, I went to the Hospital Wing, played the sick routine with Madame Pomfrey so she'd give me a potion and say I had, in fact, visited her. I also checked in with Remus, who was looking a little worse for wear in one of the far beds, covers pulled up to his chin as he sweated, awaiting his monthly ritual. Since it was useless to talk to him while he was suffering, I patted the sheet beside his bed and went into a show of what Poppy called a “miraculous recovery” and a testament to her new Pepper-Up Potion. She sent me on my way, and I walked quickly back to the Tower, avoiding any largely populated areas.

The evening up to the full moon passed quickly, as I did some work for my classes. I was finished with the new Defense assignment and halfway through the Charms Theory that Flitwick had assigned on Wednesday when Sirius knocked on my bedroom door, telling me that it was time. I collected my dad's Cloak from its hiding spot in the false bottom of the wardrobe, and Sirius held up the Map, indicating we were ready. Wormtail, he said, was already waiting for us outside, and was anxious for us to, as quoted by Sirius, “get a groovin' move on.” Peter was always a fan of those Muggle sayings. It was strange, as I'd always figured that a Sirius sort of trait; Padfoot, oddly enough, found them inane and banal, and wouldn't use those catch-phrases. Go figure.

The night was passed in pleasant unconcern. As a stag, my mind was in a simpler configuration, and worries about Lily drifted away on the night air. We played and frolicked, bounding around the Grounds without a care in the world, the rat, dog, wolf, and I. As the moon shone down on us, I felt the cares of my human self blur into the background, and I shook off the weight of my troubles for the night, and became just another creature in the wood, having a good time and passing the midnight hours in the company of friends.

~~~~~

The next week, Lily continued to keep away from me except when it was necessary, but I did see her chatting with Remus, Peter, and Sirius when I was doing my homework in the Common Room. Feeling myself unable to deal, for the moment, with the fact that my best friend felt I didn't know her at all, I left for the library. I had to admit, I was holding on to the disappointment in her voice for a significantly long period of time, but the sound of it kept coming back to me, playing over and over in my head, asking me why I wasn't able to do more, and, more quietly, why it continued to bother me so much.

As I was working on a research project for Transfiguration, a soft cough interrupted my rifling through textbook pages, and I looked up to see Rhuanned Parry standing in front of me. The 6^th Year Hufflepuff Prefect smiled, and asked if I'd mind if she sat with me while she studied. Distracted momentarily, I agreed. In fact, I was glad for the company. It was so disconcerting, how cold the air next to me was without Lily's fiery presence - I didn't realize how much I was missing it.

After a few minutes of companionable silence, I heard Rue grumble about damn McGonagall, and I figured I'd step in to see if I could help, being decent in Transfiguration, after all. “Um,” I said, a little unsure of myself, “what're you studying?”

She looked up, flushed slightly, and then shook her head in frustration, tossing down her quill and rubbing her temples. “It's this assignment for McGonagall, you know, the one that's due on Wednesday. I just don't understand it! It might as well be Ancient Runes, because I don't get those either.” She looked up with a shrug and a lop-sided grin.

Laughing lightly at her amused self-depreciation, I offered to help. In thanks, I got a dazzling smile from Rue, who then sighed in relief and scooted her chair over so I could look on at her textbook.

A little distracted by the fact that she was moving closely, I looked carefully at Rue, judging her on a male level and not a fellow student level, appraising her as a guy would appraise a girl. Her long blond hair was styled in a simple, yet fashionable manner - there were two sections pulled away from her face and tied behind her head in a flowered pin, lending her face a soft and gentle glow. Her brown eyes were focused on the page that she wanted me to explain, and I watched her brows furrow intelligently as she tried to comprehend the importance of having the right type of wood when attempting to transfigure it into a particular breed of dog. One couldn't, I told her, just take a piece of plywood and make a champion retriever; only a fine length of oak would be able to transfigure into such a stalwart, loyal dog. A more brittle wood like balsa would usually transform into a temperamental dog like a poodle, and so on.

As she smiled at my explanation, alarms went off in my head that she might be flirting with me. Instead of moving away, though, I just grinned at Rue, trying to keep my mind focused on the pretty girl in front of me instead of another face with angry green eyes.

We continued to work, close by each other, and occasionally bumping elbows, which resulted in little giggle fits on Rue's part. No matter what, though, I couldn't get Lily out of my head. Ever since my meeting with Dumbledore, I'd been feeling incredibly awkward about my feelings toward Lily, and had, I realized, been feeling more protective of her than would be normally required. Her accusations about my treating her like a child replayed in my head, and I remembered anew the angry words that resulted from that argument, and the intense pain that suffused me when she said I didn't understand her. Trying to understand my feelings, I knew it wasn't because her family had died, because trying to make your friend feel better doesn't make your stomach turn and make it so you can't eat. Mind you, when I can't eat, you know there is a problem. The poem by that witch came back in my head, about the truth must dazzle gradually or every man be blind. I started to wonder whether the “truth” was really just infatuation. If I were really just a horny teenager, then the attentions of Rhuanned should have made me happier than they did at that moment.

And it's a strange condition,

A day in prison,

It's got me out of my head

And I don't know what I came for

I questioned myself seriously, why was I so hung up on Lily? After a moment of staring off into the distance without coming up with a suitable response, Rue interrupted me with a quick clarification on some of her notes, and I thought angrily, Look. There's a pretty girl who's trying to spend time with you and get to know you and she's willing to be around you to do it. No matter how I tried to justify it, Rue couldn't be the friend that Lily was. She wouldn't tell it to me point-blank and stripped of decorum, and she wouldn't know all of the little things about me. But, I reasoned, she was nice, and I felt alone. Rue was here, talking to me when my best friend wouldn't come near me. The girl that I couldn't get out of my mind seemingly didn't have me anywhere in hers.

Wrestling with myself, I came to the conclusion that I couldn't spend my time bemoaning the loss of my best friend Lily. If Lily wanted to come back to talk to me, she would, because I didn't think her capable of throwing it all away, at least, not yet. In the meantime, I thought that I might want to spend more time with Rue. She had a wry sense of humor that I hadn't expected, and once we finished with our assignments, we chatted for a while about professors, classes, and life in general. I found myself warming to Rue as I hadn't to any female but Lily. The thought occurred to me that maybe some of the girls had outgrown the “crush” phase of life and were willing to put forth the extra effort that a friendship with a guy entailed. When Rue asked, without blushing at all, if I'd accompany her to Hogsmeade over the coming weekend, I gave one last fleeting thought to the risk of ruining my relationship with Lily by bringing another female friend into the picture. Remembering that we had already severed ties to some extent, I made a decision. It was time for me to stop mooning over my best friend, if that is what I was in fact doing, and get on with my life.

As I accepted Rue's invitation, I felt simultaneously lighter and heavier - as if one burden had been lifted even as a new layer of guilt was added. No matter how happy Rue was, or how happy it made me to be starting something new, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just done something horribly wrong.

Nothing is without effect

There's nothing done that won't reflect

If I pull one brick from an endless wall

Would it drown us all?

~~~~~

A/N: Spam spam spam spam, sausage, spam spam spam and spam, please! Oh, and can you cut out the sausage?

Music is brought to you by some newbies and some oldies. First, Counting Crows returns with “American Girls” from the Hard Candy LP; Dave Matthews Band contributes an excerpt from “Pig” on the Before These Crowded Streets LP; matchbox twenty follows its Ch. 6 debut with “Hand Me Down” from the more than you think you are LP; Pete Yorn joins the lineup with “Strange Condition” from musicforthemorningafter LP; and Beth Orton rounds out our music with her debut of “Anywhere” from the Daybreaker LP. If I didn't like this music, you wouldn't find it here. So go. Listen. Enjoy.

What's your favorite chapter/part so far? Favorite character? Any suggestions for James in this time of confusion and uncertainty? Anything you'd like to see more of (though I can't promise L/J fluff, sorry)?

Special thanks go out to Tracey and dudette3993 for their reviews for Ch. 8 - I'm glad that you're enjoying my writing, and hope you like this chapter as well.