Semele Perdita

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Just A Note: Sorry for the overall crappiness of this chapter, if you don't get the end, its kind of Lily's admittance her parents are dead and the whole thing will be explained in the next chapter(I hope) and more about Meara's planning as well.

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Semele Perdita

Chapter 3: A Study of Teenage Moodswings

Author: LadyAkako

Rating: PG-13

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[ James ]

“Now then, you may sit on top of your desks if you must sit to do this. I expect to see some progress with this by the end of class, as it is very simple. All you must do is picture what you wish the chair to become in your mind and repeat the following spell: ita meus consilium imitatorem. Now, I want you to picture a standard school desk. Hopefully, that won't be hard, as you see them every day, Mr. Black, is there a reason you look like your dog has just died?” McGonagall sighed on the last bit as she surveyed Sirius.

I couldn't help but sport a lopsided grin at the comment. McGonagall really had Sirius pegged to the ten. Leaning back in my chair and balancing it on its back two legs, I glanced back at my mate in question.

“No problem, just a little disappointed about something, Professor,” Sirius replied dramatically. He flashed a grin at McGonagall and ran a hand through his hair.

He had been `a little disappointed' since breakfast this morning when he had seen that Evans's hair was its normal auburn color. He was quite put off at this fact and we had to hold him down to prevent him to walk over to Evans and ask why her hair wasn't blue. I wondered too, but then again the girl was already looking ticked off. I thought it might be better not to push that anger a bit further. An angry Evans was not what I needed right now. After all, I already had detentions lined up for the week and it was only the first day back to classes.

Apparently, McGonagall was done with interrogating Sirius and we were free to begin this project. Just as I was about to move and start this deplorable project that was meant to challenge us, McGonagall added a small little detail to it that made the clouds above my head just a tad darker.

“…And please, 6^th years, I expect a 7 foot essay about how the elements of Transfiguration and spell weaving combine to make this possible Wednesday morning. As it is almost time to leave, you may prepare yourselves to exit. Have a nice day and no dung bombs in the hallway, Mr. Black and Mr. Potter,” McGonagall glanced down at us and I swear I saw her lip twitch this time.

Five minutes later, Sirius and I were walking side by side on the way to lunch, with Peter trailing behind us. Remus discussing our project with another Gryffindor, obviously we weren't serious enough to chat about a stupid Transfiguration project that should be given to the third years. Okay, maybe not third years, but still…it was so easy.

“Still sulking, then, Padfoot?” I joked, grinning I turned to look at my friend's profile which was set in a scowl. This sight only caused my smile to grow wider, of course. It was always fun to see Sirius angry because one of his famous pranks didn't work the way he wanted it too. He really was a spoiled brat, but I forgive him. Everyone has a few flaws, right?

“If you must gloat about it, yes I am. I thought that dye was supposed to last all week not for just a few hours. I waited all summer and didn't even get to see Evans flip,” Sirius ground out slowly, as if it pained him to say it. “It's just not fair.”

“Fair or not, I'm starving,” Remus suddenly came up behind the two boys and raised his eyebrow. “Let's go eat and quit contemplating the hair dye, eh?”

Agreeing whole-heartedly, we all followed as Remus headed our group to the Great Hall.

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[ Lily ]

“So, what exactly are you going to do about…that,” Meara said, as she lazily pointed an electric blue finger nail at James Potter, who was currently wolfing down the food that was put in front of him as if he hadn't eaten in years. It was really quite disgusting when boys ate like that.

My eyes swung across the Gryffindor table to see Remus and Sirius eating with just as much abandon as James. Then, I saw Peter who was slowly and steadily eating a gigantic pile of vittles, he was going to outstrip all three of them soon.

“That is so gross,” I commented disgustedly. My lip curled slightly at the boys, they would never grow up. “To think, Dumbledore even trusted Lupin with Prefect authority slightly scares me.”

Meara rolled her eyes at the comment and looked around the Hall with a bored expression on her face. I dropped my eyes to the table, allowing my index finger to trace the well-worn grooves that wove all across the surface of the ornate table.

“Anyways, I wasn't asking what you thought of them. I was asking what you wanted to do to get back at them, for, well, you know, the hair,” She asserted slyly. Her smoky orbs slid to meet my own, the twinkle of mischief distinguished easily.

I felt a smile tug at my lips as I watched my friend carefully. She already had something in mind that much was clear.

“Well, since you seem to know what to do, please tell. Preferably, before I have to strangle you.” I felt my mood lift slightly at the thought of revenge. I never appreciated being humiliated in front of any number of people.

“Well, as you know, the Halloween feast is coming up in less than a week, right?” Meara began to canvass out her plan. “What if we cast a charm on their food to taste like Bertie Bott's? I know the spell; Richard taught it to me once. It would be brilliant, Lily.”

Richard, Meara's older brother, knew some pretty interesting spells. He really loves to play tricks on people, and never begrudged Meara or me the chance to learn any of his tricks. In fact, he was always happy that he furthered our cause in the prank area. Richard had a twisted mind, really, but I guess the whole Riley clan did. Being an all Ravenclaw family, loony state of mind was bound to outstrip the genius one day, right?

I nodded at the idea. Looking up, I noticed that Meara was looking at me strangely again.

“Feeling alright, Lily?” she asked, obviously concerned. I nodded again, then grabbed my bag and shoved my books in quickly.

“Come on, Meara, we'll be late for Defense,” I dodged her question easily. I didn't feel like being psychoanalyzed right now. My spirits fell once again; I am such a roller coaster these days. I was so happy just five minutes ago at the thought of embarrassing Potter, now I felt the usual loneliness settle into place.

“I'll be along in a few minutes, I have to talk to someone,” she answered, her mission of concern aborted. I could have sighed in relief, but decided that it would be rude. Meara was my best, and only, friend, really. I had others, but I didn't actually enjoy their company.

Walking down the empty corridor to my next class alone was nothing new to me. It usually didn't bother me, but right now I felt as if the hall would go on forever. I really didn't need this today. Stopping, I closed my eyes, fighting off the feeling of paranoia again. It was happening more and more lately. The paranoid sense that I would lose everything if I stopped smiling and pretending it was okay.

Nothing was okay, it couldn't be. They were gone; the people who took care of me and raised me since I was born. My parents were really dead. I guess that sense of numbness, as my mother's friend Amelia had called it, that one feels after a shocking death had finally worn off. I felt my heart clench in my chest and leaned against the nearest wall, trying to regain myself.

Faintly, I was aware that someone was coming, but as the blackness surrounded me grew thicker, I couldn't bring myself to care. In a surreal moment, I saw a blurry image of myself as a tiny child once more, crying in my mother's arms.

Never again could I be that child, I no longer had a mother to run to. I swallowed hard as I felt the first tear of grief slide down my face and fall into the rivet of my lips I tasted the saltiness and welcomed the flavor as more dropped into my mouth.

The footsteps of whoever it was halted, I didn't look up. Somehow, in the span of a few seconds, I had slid down into a sitting position, my knees drawn in to my face, hiding from the world.

The voice that belonged to the stranger rang out in the hallway. It sounded familiar, but I was much to tired to try to identify it. I could barely make out the words that were being shouted, but they slowly became clearer as the focus of my eyes suddenly sharpened drastically.

In a burst of color and sound, the words reached me, “Evans! Get up, Evans you'll be late. Evans, are you okay? What's wrong? Can you hear me?” A cold hand shook my shoulder roughly. The blackness surrounded me, wrapping its addictive arms around me. The heady feeling of release tugged me closer and I felt myself letting go.

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