One hour. One more hour of this clammy, cold dungeon, attempting to put up with Snivellus obnoxiously answering every question Slughorn asked.
James tapped his quill harder.
Then again, it was more time to admire Lily sitting to left and two rows up from him. Or more time to ponder what could be wrong with her, as his prodding of Padfoot had only gotten James a stunner, consequently making him late to class.
James wondered if he could prod it out of Sirius through guilt.
Fifty-five minutes. Fifty-five more minutes of this torture.
Lily didn't look any different than usual. She looked as she always had, ever since first year, albeit quite a few physical differences, which James had imagined in his head many, many times. She still did all her homework. She still talked to her friends. And most of the castle. She chatted with the teachers at breakfast. She was on time to all her classes. She still visited Hagrid every Wednesday. She still cheered quite violently at Quidditch matches. She still read the paper religiously every morning, starting with the opinion section, moving to the news, then sports, passing through the living section, to the obituaries, and then wedding and birth announcement, to end on a happier note.
Not that James stalked her or anything.
There wasn't anything going on in her life that James couldn't know about.
"Mr. Potter?"
James looked up, startled. Slughorn stood before him, holding a piece of parchment. The professor stared at James expectantly.
"Yes?" James hoped to Merlin he gave the correct answer.
"I said that while an essay on Miss Evans," Slughorn glanced at Lily, "is enjoyable to read, I would prefer to grade the assigned work."
James could feel his face turn red, but that was nothing compared to Lily's purple. He hoped it was from affection rather than anger.
"One hour after class, Mr. Potter. Turn the correct assignment in by then for some credit. Make it good."
Sirius was laughing beside him. "Mate, I told you to write your damn essay. Instead you whined about Evans. To a teacher."
"Padfoot."
"Her favorite teacher."
"Sirius."
"A professor who adores her. One who doesn't understand you." Sirius winced. "I'm not sure it gets much worse than that."
"Hey, Black."
A short laugh. "Huh?"
"Shut the fuck up."