The Diary

Chapter Twenty-seven - The Omission

Disclaimer: Goes here. You know the drill. Rowling's… everything.

Dedicated: To my super faithful reviewers (you know who you are; I'd list you, but I'm afraid I would forget someone, thus terribly offending him/her), who never fail to make me smile. And a shout-out to Sunkist, who told me about the song I quote below, as well as to Holly for beta'ing.

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You could call me six times but still I won't pick up the phone
You could spend all your money on me but still I'll say no
You could write a million letters everyday confessing to me
That I am the girl of your dreams
But nobody ever asked me.
“Secret” by The Veronicas

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“We need a new hobby, Prongs.”

“You're telling me, Padfoot. I'm bored to tears.”

“Funny, doesn't look like you're crying to me.” Sirius smirked at James, who rolled his eyes.

“No, we do need to find something to do,” James said. “Next full moon isn't for another month. We are without a project, I fear.”

“Easter holidays should be more entertaining, I believe.”

“Right you are, Padfoot.” James looked around. “Where'd Wormtail run off to?”

“Right here!” piped Peter as he entered the courtyard. “What're you talking about?”

“The lack of diversion,” Sirius replied dryly.

“Oh, yeah,” Peter said. “I'm really bored.”

“Then what were you just doing?” James asked.

“Oh, I was playing Exploding Snap.”

Sirius and James shared a look. “With who?” asked James sceptically.

Peter suddenly took a great interest in the clouds. “No one.”

“Right.” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “That still doesn't solve our problem, does it?”

“Well, there have to be some Slytherins about,” James said casually, searching for the distinctive green crest.

A small breath of excitement escaped from Sirius' lips. “Look, it's Snivellus.”

James followed Sirius' line of sight and grinned. Snape had just stepped into the courtyard, his sizeable nose in a book. “After you, Padfoot.”

“Locomotor Mortis!” cried Sirius as they approached the greasy-haired Slytherin.

“Protego!” yelled Snape, dropping the book and revealing the wand that he'd been hiding in the crease.

James and Sirius glimpsed at each other. Sirius exclaimed, “Petrificus Totalus!” Snape blocked it again, but as soon as his shield shimmered out of existence, James cast the same spell as Sirius - he didn't miss. Snape's arms and legs immediately snapped together, and his stiff form fell to the ground with a thud.

Several passers-by had now stopped to watch, and James' eyes met some of theirs appreciatively. “So, Snivellus,” James drawled, circling around Snape's body. “Been learning some new hexes lately? Some new Dark ones?” He glared at Snape as he spoke.

“He's had enough time, Prongs.” Sirius had joined James' pacing, but he moved in the opposite direction; two dogs circling their prey, James thought, only it was a more appropriate term for Sirius. He grinned as Sirius continued, “He never washes that obscenely large nose, which clears up his schedule nicely.”

“All the showers in the world wouldn't wash off the Darkness,” James said.

Snape's beetle eyes were fixed on the ceiling above him. After a gleeful look at Sirius, James stood over Snape's form and used his wand to write a message in large, black letters on the Slytherin's forehead.

“Dark,” Sirius read. “Simple yet effective, Prongs. But I have a modification, if you don't mind.”

“Oh, add on, please,” James said, histrionically gesturing his arm towards the ground.

When Sirius was done, the letters flashed through a variety of colours and occasionally growled.

“Well, there's our good deed for the day,” James said. “Hard to mis-”

“Misters Potter and Black, I'll ask you to please stop that.” Professor Wayter stood at the fringe of the pack of students, his arms crossed neatly over his chest. “How many times must I assign you detention before you learn?” he said, gracefully crossing the floor to Snape's body.

James rolled his eyes at Sirius and wondered if Wayter just followed them around to catch them in the act. The Arithmancy professor had to have taken more points from Gryffindor than Slughorn and Flitwick combined.

“Really, Professor,” Sirius explained, “we were simply trying to help the school at large. Is that a crime?”

“You very well know that actions such as these -” Wayter withdrew his wand and erased the text from Snape's head and undid the Body Bind, “go beyond the normal limits of punishment.” James' and Snape's eyes met before Snape left, and James was struck by a wave of disgust. Snape would have turned in the school to You Know Who in an instant if he were only given the chance. “Black, Potter. I believe you know where my office is.”

James and Sirius took their familiar places behind the Arithmancy professor and made their way to the fifth floor. Wayter bid them to take the seats in front of his desk while he retrieved a detention slip from his desk.

“To be honest, I really don't know what to do with you two,” Wayter said, creasing his eyebrows as he wrote down their crime. “Detention doesn't deter you. House points are irrelevant. What do I need to do to get it through your heads that you can't jinx people for fun in this castle?”

James glanced over at Sirius, who was staring out the window, a bored expression on his face.

“Have you met our new caretaker yet?” Wayter's quill hovered over the parchment.

“Not yet, but I expect we will,” Sirius said without looking at the professor.

James hadn't been introduced to Argus Filch, but he had seen him lurking through the hallways with his raggedy old cat, Mrs Norris. He had no real desire to be acquainted with the man.

A smirk tugged at Wayter's lips. “All right, then. Detention with Filch it is. I'll ask him when he needs some assistance and get back to you.”

James rolled his eyes and asked, “Are we free to go?”

“So long as you don't go hunt down Snape, yes,” Wayter said. “Or anyone else in the castle, for that matter.”

The two boys stood up. “Until later, Professor,” Sirius said, holding the door open for James.

Once the door was shut, James reached into his pocket and withdrew a wriggling Snitch he'd borrowed from the last Quidditch practice. He wasn't a Seeker, but he enjoyed honing his reflex skills. Plus, it was just plain fun.

“Not inside this castle, eh?” Sirius grinned. “Noted, Prongs. Noted.”

James nodded and released the Snitch. It flitted away, but James' hand shot out and recaptured it. “I like your thinking.” He opened his palm and let the Snitch fly a foot away, then nimbly caught it. He felt a twinge of annoyance when he realised Sirius hadn't seen it. It had been a difficult catch. “Hey, Padfoot, watch this.” James let it go again. It raced around behind him; James spun on his foot to snatch it, but another hand grabbed it before he could.

“Really, Potter, are you that addicted to Quidditch?”

Evans. James wasn't sure whether to grin because she'd talked to him or to shake her and demand that she be nice to him.

“Nice catch, Evans,” James said. “Have any other talents you'd like to show off?”

A look of abhorrence crossed her face as she shoved the twittering Snitch into her bag. “You disgust me.”

“Snape disgusts us,” James said with a glance at Sirius. “But you seem to be keen on defending him. Why do you even care about him? You of all people should know he deserves it.”

“It doesn't matter whether I like him or not,” Evans replied angrily. She took a deep breath. “You just don't get it, Potter.” James thought that had been made blatantly obvious. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “This is going to McGonagall. If you want it back, you can tell her why you stole it from the team to begin with. Some House pride you have.” Evans readjusted her bag and stalked away.

James watched her departing form with longing.

“Are you admitting that you like her yet?” Sirius asked. He tossed a Pepper Imp into his mouth.

James didn't respond at first, instead heading towards their next class. “What if I did?”

“Then… I don't know, mate. I'd like to see you two on a date more than I'd like to see you with that Sarah girl, twat that she was.”

“She was dim, wasn't she?”

“Duller than porridge, that one.”

“Don't know what I saw in her.”

“Her lips, perhaps?”

“Excellent point, Padfoot. Excellent point.”

0 0 0

The following Wednesday, Lily spent the morning accepting birthday wishes and generally enjoying herself. Charms had been particularly entertaining when they'd reviewed Cheering Charms for their OWLs, and the entire class had exited in good spirits. Unfortunately, there was the looming shadow of what Potter would do to celebrate the occasion. Lily all too easily recalled what he'd done the previous year, and although she felt better equipped to deal with a situation such as that, she also knew he was creative enough to play to her fears, no matter how far she'd progressed.

Even Emily had commented that it was suspicious that he hadn't attempted anything by the time lunch rolled around, and while Lily agreed, Emily really hadn't helped soothe her growing nerves. As luck would have it, Lily's next class was Arithmancy, which meant that Emily would not be around to stand guard.

"Don't worry," Lily told her, trying to muster up more confidence than she felt, "I can handle him."

"If you're sure," Emily responded uneasily before heading off to Divination.

Lily entered Professor Wayter's classroom with her head held high and took a seat in the back, determined not to be caught from behind. When Potter took the seat directly in front of her, a surge of anger flared through Lily. It wasn't fair that she should have to be on the defence. Potter was really something else, she thought, fishing around in her bag for a sharp quill.

"Here."

Lily's head shot up at Potter's voice. He was holding out a quill that looked to be more expensive than the shoes she was wearing.

"No thanks," she said, giving him her best glare. She continued to rummage but came up with nothing. Where the devil had her quill run off to?

Class was starting and Lily was sans quill. She sighed and sat back up. Maybe she could ask John for one, but no, he was across the room.

Much to her instant dismay, Potter's quill was on her desk, smirking at her because she would have no choice but to use it. How she loathed it. And for all she knew, it was cursed to stick to her hand or to force her to write something about loving Potter. There was no other option, however, so she begrudgingly picked up the handsome quill and began to solve the problems Wayter had written on the board.

She touched the quill as little as possible, but when the bell rang, nothing had happened. A red herring, then. Prick, trying to get her on edge.

Unexpectedly, Potter was the first one out the door. He'd left without Black, even, and that sent off warning bells in Lily's mind. Clearly the quill's secret would soon be revealed and he didn't want to take responsibility for it. Well, Lily would not stand for it. She shoved her things into her bag and hurried after him. Logic told her he had headed straight for his next class, so she took a left and sped around the corner so quickly that she ran right into someone.

Lily rebounded off the person and stumbled back. A hand darted out and caught her hand, preventing her from falling.

"Careful."

It was Potter. Of course it was Potter. Pursing her lips, Lily wrenched her hand free and grabbed the quill out of her bag.

"Here," she said, holding it out with her thumb and index finger like a used handkerchief. "This is yours. I don't want to know what it does."

"Are you sure?"

She shot him a scathing look. "Of course I don't want to know. Now take it back."

"No," he said.

"Well, I don't want it." Lily shoved it into his hand, but he withdrew it and closed it into a fist. "Fine." She made to drop it, but he grabbed her hand again.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, that stupid smirk on his face.

Lily let out a tense breath through her teeth. "Then what am I supposed to do with it?"

"I'll take it back on one condition."

Bargaining with the devil. Lily mentally cursed. She didn't want to dump the problem of the loaded quill on anyone else, and she certainly didn't want to deal with it herself.

"Fine," she said tersely. "What?"

His face lit up. "Hear me out."

"Why? So I can listen to you make up some inane spiel about Dungbombs?"

"No, just... Just don't say anything."

Lily tried to cross her arms, but found it was too difficult to simultaneously hold the quill delicately.

Potter checked behind her, making Lily wonder where everyone else was. Once he was sure no one was approaching, he cleared his throat. "Look, Evans, I wanted to tell you..." He pushed his hair out of his eyes reflexively. "I- I want to be friends."

Lily couldn't bite back a sharp retort. "You're not even close to being funny, Potter."

"No, I'm being serious. I... I don't want to fight, and..."

"This is beyond ridiculous. I don't want to stand here, listening to you lie right to my face."

"I'm not lying!"

Lily closed her eyes and counted to ten.

He continued, "I'm sick of you trying to murder me with your eyes whenever I'm around, and I--"

Lily's eyes snapped open. "I don't want to hear it!" She threw the quill at Potter, beyond caring about whatever spell it would trigger, and stormed down the corridor in search of Emily.

She tracked her down in the courtyard, enjoying the sunny weather with Rob.

As soon as Emily caught sight of Lily's clenched jaw, she asked, “What'd he do now?”

“Potter?” Rob asked, perplexed.

“Her birthday today.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“He didn't curse you or anything, did he?” Emily asked.

Lily shook her head. “Stupid twat, he--”

Her response was cut off when someone yelped. A small body was now flying in the air, suspended by a foot, eliciting a cacophony of cheers from the bystanders.

Lily harrumphed when the student dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. “I hate that,” she growled.

“You mean Levicorpus?” Emily asked.

“Levi-what?”

“Levicorpus. The name of the spell. Nonverbal, which suits my purposes.” Emily winked.

“It's been everywhere lately, which I find annoying.”

“I've already seen it twice today,” Rob added.

“Really?” Lily asked. “I don't understand what's so funny about it.”

“It's only funny when it happens to someone you dislike,” Rob pointed out.

“Is that so?” Emily asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes that made Lily very wary. In an instant, she'd withdrawn her wand and aimed it at her boyfriend. An invisible hand yanked his leg out from under him and pulled until Rob was hanging upside-down. “See?” Emily laughed. “I think this is funny, but I definitely like you.”

“Point taken.” Rob's voice was muffled by the robes that gathered over his face. “A situation can make anything funny.” He began to plummet to the ground, but Emily caught him. “Especially by you,” he added as soon as he was upright, chuckling and smoothing his robes.

Emily beamed and leaned in to peck him on the cheek. “No harm done.”

“I shouldn't have taught you that spell.” Rob gave her a look that Lily could only classify as affectionate. It should have seemed out of place, she thought, but it wasn't.

“If only that spell were on the OWL,” Emily replied. “I'd have no problem.”

“Don't bring those up,” Rob groaned. “Now I have to leave.”

“Already?”

“They're coming up - I need to relearn some potions. I'll talk to you both later, though.” He gave Emily a quick embrace, nodded at Lily and took his leave.

“So,” Emily turned to Lily. “Potter.”

“Asked if we could be friends.” Lily scowled.

“He did?” Emily asked, surprised. “Well, I guess that makes sense.”

“How does that make sense?”

“He fancies you.” Emily held up a hand to stop Lily's protest. “I've said it before, and I'll say it again.”

“Even if that were true,” Lily argued, “how does that change anything? He's still Potter, and I still have no interest in ever speaking to him again, let alone possibly considering dating him.”

Emily considered this. “Is this a good or a bad change? To liking you, I mean. He doesn't prank you anymore, at least.”

Lily wrinkled her nose. “I'd rather have to fight that off than have him making eyes at me during class.”

“He did that?”

“Not that I know of, but I wouldn't put it past him.”

Emily cocked her head. “What is it with you and him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything about him just rubs you the wrong way.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Emily asked, genuinely interested.

“There doesn't need to be a reason.”

“And that's the definition of irrationality.”

“I am not being irrational,” Lily huffed. “He's the most despicable person I've ever met.” Emily pursed her lips. “Besides,” Lily continued, “I still don't know what to do about him, regardless of my rationality.”

“If you insist on being like this,” Emily said, “then the logical thing to do would be to get him to stop liking you.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Well, I'd say be horrible to him, but you've already done that. And nice doesn't seem to be a possibility for you… I have no idea.”

“Thanks so much. You've made everything perfectly clear.”

“As mud, I'm sure.”

“Of course. Nothing is ever clear when it comes to him.”

0 0 0

The month of May drew to a close, and the fifth and seventh year students went into a frenzy of studying. James even stumbled upon Sirius paging through his Transfiguration textbook one day after lunch.

The pressure of the exams was not at all aided by James' utter frustration with regard to Evans. His olive branch had been all but burned, but he had kept up the niceties in hopes that she might someday realise he was being sincere. No matter what he said, though, she responded with the same scathing derision, making James want to run up to her and yell, “Why don't you like me? Everyone else does!”

While James knew he could be fairly arrogant at times, he really felt that he had what Evans wanted in a boyfriend. Well, if she wanted one. James knew her better than anyone - a supposedly desirable trait - not to mention that he was good-looking, athletic and intelligent. He didn't know why she despised him, and as maddening as it was, Evans barely mentioned James Potter to Roscoe. He'd been on thin ice ever since he'd accidentally brought up the detention before she had, so he couldn't ask her about himself directly without seeming conspicuous. It seemed the only viable option was to hope that she would allude to something at some point that would give it away.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by Evans' handwriting.

Good evening.

Hello. Did you have a good day?

Well, I learned a new spell, but I don't know if that makes it a good day or not.

Really? I would have thought you would be excited about that.

It should have been good, but the purpose of the spell…

What spell was it?

It makes a person hang from their ankle in the air. Some people seem to find this beyond hilarious.

James was well acquainted with the spell, but, surprisingly, he had yet to learn the incantation. It was a difficult business, learning something that by all means he should have known. James Potter couldn't simply ask some third-year how to do a spell.

I take it you disagree.

Why do people feel the need to do that to each other? It's not funny. It's just irritating.

He thought it was very entertaining, but Evans would hate it.

What's the spell name?

I'm not really sure. It's Levicorpus or something. I'm not sure of the spelling, though. I only heard Emily say it today.

And Emily Wood would definitely be one to know the curse, James mused. Thank you, Wood.

Annoyances aside, things have been going well?

OWLs are soon. There are lots of students losing their minds over it.

Are you one of them?

Mostly, no.

Huzzah!

Why does that get a huzzah?

Because it means you have some semblance of confidence, that's why.

Oh. I suppose. I am nervous, of course, but just not as much as some.

And that, my friend, merits a huzzah.

Thanks, then. How have you been?

Same thing, different day, really.

There was just the simply matter of getting a certain person to explain themselves.

I know how that is.

Have the Marauders been leaving you alone? You haven't mentioned them in a while.

As a matter of fact, one of them tried to call a truce with me.

James sighed and tried to think of a way to cajole a definitive answer out of her.

What did you do?

I don't remember exactly. It was a while ago. On my birthday, actually. His stupid birthday prank or something.

He groaned. She misinterpreted everything.

He's more annoying on his own than all the Levicorpuses that have been cast in the last week combined. It's back and forth. One minute he's ignoring my existence, the next he's asking me out every chance he gets. Can't he just settle on one personality for me to hate?

Not for the last time, James bemoaned the problem of operating under an alias, one that had to align itself with Evans.

Have you tried to make him stop?

Of course. It didn't work.

Did you try talking to him?

I can't.

Why not?

I just can't.

Reluctantly, James let Roscoe take over.

You need to do something, Lily.

There's nothing I can do.

You need to go after what you want. You started doing it with the caretaker, but you still hold back. Take action.

You don't understand.

You haven't told me enough about it. I can't advise you if you don't tell me more about it. Which Marauder is it? I'll try to find something about him from my friends.

Then again, James thought, what was Roscoe but an extension of himself?

It doesn't matter which one it is.

Doesn't it? It seems like one of them gets to you more than the others.

That's true.

Care to explain?

No, I really don't. I told you, I can't talk to him. It's simply how things are. Good night.

Why did everything seem to end on a bad note lately? He desperately wanted to know what she thought about him, but she was unrelentingly closed-mouthed about the Marauders. It didn't make sense.

James flipped back to find her past mentions of him. His eyes scanned line after line in search of his name, but as the pages flipped by, his mouth formed an increasingly deeper frown. His name was nowhere to be found.

He quietly slipped out of his bed to search through his trunk for the first journal he'd written in. After hunting through that one, James was stumped. Not once had she written the words `James Potter'. The other Marauders had been mentioned by name, but James himself was always referred to as a generic person. It was mind boggling. The one person she hated above all, and his name was never brought up.

He wracked his mind trying to think of an explanation of any kind, but there was none. Should he ask her the Marauder's name? No, that would seem too random. And would she even write it? There had to be a reason she hadn't written it, which meant she would be her usual stubborn self about not mentioning him.

And he couldn't bring up the name himself, now that he had pointedly told her that he didn't know which Marauder bothered her the most. There was no way to win.

James leaned back and quietly whacked his head against the wall, wondering what on earth he was going to do.