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I go to Disney World for Nationals in 7 days! Soooo excited! You may find a few grammar mistakes since I typed this on the FF docx editor and no spell check, but I hope it's okay. Enjoy!

Needless to say, James and I were far from best friends now. I hated him. He was obsessed with me. Nothing more could or would ever happen.

It's October of my Seventh Year. I'm Head Girl, which wasn't much of a surprise... except James is Head Boy.

I hate my life.

And James. Potter. Whatever.

I'm not even sure how that happened. Potter wasn't even a Prefect! He doesn't know the first thing about leadership, or hard work or anything even remotely similar! Dumbledore must have been on meth or something. It should have been me and Remus, or me and that Ravenclaw bloke Alexander Forrest. Not Potter!

"So, Evans, what's on the adgenda for today?" Potter asked, bounding up beside me.

"Go away," I grumbled.

"No, I don't think I will."

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Maybe not right now... how about next Friday night?"

I wanted to punch him.

"Go fall in a hole."

"As long as you're there!" Potter said in a sing-song voice.

I stopped walking and put a hand on my hip. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"


I rolled my eyes and ducked into the girl's lavatory, like I usually did. I'm surprised Potter hasn't followed me in yet, actually. But it's only a matter of time. I locked myself in a stall just in case.

"Lily, are you in here?" I heard a voice say.

"Ellen!" I said, unlocking the door and coming out to greet her. "Where have you been?"

"Brooke and I went to the library to work on that Arithmacy essay."

"Oh," I said, washing my hands for good measure and grabbing my books. "I finished that aready."

Ellen rolled her eyes. "We know."

I smiled and tucked my hair behind my ear. Ellen opened the bathroom door and I followed her back into the corridor.

"Where's Leigh, then?"

"With Remus, of course."

I laughed. "Of course."

Leigh and Remus had been spending quite a bit of time together. It was adorable, actually.

"I passed Potter on my way here," Ellen said. "Is that why you were hiding in the bathroom?"

"I wasn't hiding," I said indignantly.

"Of course you weren't."

I opened my mouth to retort but I was cut off.

"Oi! Evans, Carte!" Black yelled, jogging down the hallway to fall into step beside us. "We're having a party tomorrow night, you in?"

"Black, tomorrow is a Thursday," I said slowly.

Black blinked at me. "Yes, and?"

"It's a school night."

"Oh, get that stick out of your arse, Evans," Black said, laughing and swishing his hair out of his face. "Live a little!"

"I'll live easier once I don't have to see your ugly face every day."

Okay, so that was a lie. Sirius Black was very good looking. All of them were, always had been. I mean, they had to be good looking if I had dated two of them already, right?

Allow me to explain the Marauders in a nutshell.

Sirius Black had that look about him that was very rugged and rough-around-the-edges. His eyes were a troubled, stormy grey, and his smile was sideways and perfect. He had stubble around his chin and long dark hair that I'm sure took longer to style than mine did.

I didn't have a huge problem with Sirius. I called him Black just because it was a habit, but it wasn't out of spite. He was annoying and conceited, yes, but he was hysterical and a huge romantic, which is what really got me. There had been multiple occasions where Black came up to me and asked me to help him out with some girl. I was usually eager to help, as were Ellen, Leigh, and Brooke.

Remus Lupin, the werewolf, was the rational one of the Marauders. His hair was kept short and he had bright blue eyes that Leigh gushed about every day. He was my favorite. He was caring and smart and athletic and funny. He was the only Marauder that I didn't call by last name.

Peter Pettigrew wasn't bad either. He was short and maybe not as toned, but he was still attractive, if I say so myself. He had blonde hair that was shaved so short it looked like fuzz, and small green eyes that were set a bit too far apart on his face. I didn't really know much about him. He wasn't around much. He was with a Hufflepuff Sixth Year with bad acne. Her name was Cindie. Pettigrew was funny, I supposed. But weren't they all?

Then there was Potter. James. Whatever. I called him Potter. He was Head Boy (somehow), Quidditch Captain, Chaser, Obsessive Magpies Fangirl. Ex-best friend and Hogwarts Heartthrob. I hated him for it. His hair was messy and black and he wore glasses. His eyes were brown and sparkly, his teeth were perfect and his smile was bright and careless. He had a dimple on his right cheek. He had laugh lines on the corners of his eyes. He had to-die-for muscles and I wanted to push him off of something tall.

He pissed me off.

"Another party?" Ellen said skeptically. "You just had one!"

"Yeah, and that was two weeks ago!" Black said, laughing. "It's been far too long."

Ellen rolled her eyes, her short brown hair bobbing around her shoulders. "Whatever you say, Black."

"That's the spirit, love!" Black grinned. "Now I've got to go spread the word to other people who are worthy... be sure to tell Lake and Cowen!"

Black bounded off to go bother someone else and Ellen and I walked slowly back to the common room. It was lunchtime, and after lunch was our free period, so we usually put or books away in our dormitories beforehand so we didn't have to carry them around.

Allow me to explain to you my friends in a nutshell.

Ellen Carte. Her brown hair was short, coming to a stop right above her shoulders, and her eyes were a vibrant blue that always sparkled with laughter. She was super-sweet, wouldn't ever hurt a fly. She didn't talk much, but when she did, it was like Sass-Overload. She was so... sassy. It was hysterical. She was a Chaser on the House Quidditch team. She was good friends with Potter, and didn't understand why I hated him so much. I didn't even try to explain.

Brooke Lake. She was the friendliest. She talks to everyone and anyone, and her personality is so big it could fill up a room. Her hair was sandy-brown, long and curly, and she had a black owl named Larry. Brooke has broken the hearts of so many blokes she can't even keep count anymore. She was always in trouble, and she had a problem keeping her thoughts to herself.

Leigh Cowen. Her eyes were the prettiest baby blue I've ever seen, and her face was perfectly clear and tan. Her hair was so blond it was almost white, and it fell to about her mid-back. She was the smartest, or at least the most studious. She actually did all her homework, which was more than I could say for the rest of us. She loathed Sirius Black with a burning passion. It made me laugh.

Ellen and I reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and told her the password (tobulious). We ran up to the dormitories and threw our books on our beds. Brooke was lounging on her own four-poster, clearly waiting for us to arrive. Her robes were off and strewn across Leigh's bed.

"Took you long enough," Brooke said, grinning.

"Sorry, we ran into Black on the way here," I said, walking to my dresser to brush my hair.

"Oh, by the way," Ellen said, "party tomorrow night."

"Marauders again?" Brooke asked, slipping on her robes.


Brooke rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you'd think it was just an excuse to get drunk and look down girl's dresses."

"Um, isn't it?"

Brooke thought about it and shrugged. I put my brush down and tucked my bangs behind my ear, glancing at myself in the mirror. My hair was long and red, and took little effort in the morning. It was perfectly straight all by itself, and the only thing I ever did to it was use strawberry-scented shampoo. My eyes were a peculiar emerald, almond-shaped, and lined by a line of thick dark eyelashes. I didn't need make-up. None of us did.

The only Seventh Year Gryffindor girls who wore make-up were our other two rommates, Heather and Meg. I liked Meg, but Heather... ugh. Drama Queen. Don't even get me started on her.

Meg's make-up was natural, normal. She wasn't orange. She wasn't fake. She was pretty. She dated Black last year, and they went out for a while. I think she was his longest relationship ever. That's quite a feat.

Heather, however, was the opposite. She wore so much make-up, all the time, and all I wanted to do was pour a bucket of water on her just to see if she'd melt. She was an idiot. I wasn't sure how she ended up in Gryffindor. She wasn't brave. She wasn't loyal - she has about eight boyfriends at a time. She wore so much perfume it made me want to strangle myself (or Potter, just because he'd always be around to strangle if necessary). She thought she was awesome, and she wasn't, and I wanted to slap her in the face and tell her she was ugly.

But I was too nice for that. Unless it was Potter, of course. And, no worries, I tell him he's ugly just about every day.

"Ready to go?" Ellen asked me. I nodded and followed her and Brooke out the door and down to the Great Hall.

We took our seats towards the end of the table. I grabbed a roll and shoved it into my mouth, starved since I skipped breakfast to finish my Potions essay. I felt like an idiot for forgetting about it.

Ellen, Brooke, and I discussed the upcoming Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match, the first of the season. Of course Gryffindor would win. Potter wouldn't allow them to lose. If there's one thing I had to admire about that twit, it was his drive.

"Talking about me?" said a voice behind me.

I felt Potter slide into the bench beside me. I rolled my eyes and drew my plate closer to me. If all else fails, protect the food.

"Sod off, Potter," I mumbled through my third roll.

I'm surprised I'm not fat, actually. I eat like a sodding Marauder (which is quite the insult in my opinion), and I don't exercise, yet I was still pencil thin. I guess it all went to my boobs. Those suckers were quite large, I must say.

"You like me here," Potter said. I could hear the smirk in his voice, and I wanted to sock him in the mouth.

"Oh yes, I like you there just as much as I like my sister's new boyfriend."

"So I'll stay, then?"

"Your sister has a new boyfriend?" Brooke asked, popping a strawberry into her mouth.

I rolled my eyes and stabbed a green bean. "Yeah, his name's Vernon. I think he's part walrus."

"What's the plural of walrus?" Black said, sitting down next to Brooke, across from Potter.

"Walrusi?" supplied Potter.

"You guys are idiots," I said. "It's walruses."

"You sure about that, Evans?" Black asked with a wink. I wanted to throw up.

"Yes," I answered, grimacing.

"Oi," said Potter, "Padfoot, mate, stop winking at my lady!" He attempted to put his arm around me.

My wand was out before he had even finished his sentence. "Touch me one more time and you'll regret ever breathing," I growled.

"Yes ma'am," Potter said, removing his arm and smirking.

"And I'm not your lady."

"Not yet you aren't."

I stashed my wand back into my robes before a teacher could catch me with it out.

"Go out with me, Evans?"

"I'm about to punch you."

"I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

"If I were you, I'd take that as a 'run-for-my-life-before-I-get-killed.'"

"Aw," Potter guffawed, "that's no fun."

I sighed and returned my attention to my plate. Leigh and Remus joined us at the table, and then Pettigrew. Black and Brooke began discussing the importance of sporks and Leigh and Remus were talking about the Transfiguration essay. Ellen argued with Peter about the Magpies-Tornadoes match coming up that weekend, and if the Magpies were involved, naturally Potter would include himself in the conversation.

I sat in the middle of all these conversations and quietly stuffed my face. As much as I disliked the Marauders (sans Remus), they always joined us for meals and hung out with us in the common room. They were good company, I supposed, but they were so annoying and mischevious that it was hard to enjoy their presence.

I loaded more mashed potatoes onto my plate and drenched them in gravy. I picked up my spoon and began eating, hoping to enjoy my potatoes in peace.

No such luck.

"You eat your mashed potates with a spoon, too, Evans!" said Potter excitedly. I groaned loudly. Potter picked up his own spoon with a flourish and stuck it in front of my face as though it were a piece of rare jewlery. "It's true love."

"Lots of people eat mashed potatoes with spoons, Potter," I said, grinding my teeth together.

"No, most people eat them with a fork."

"Maybe you need a spork!" Black suggested cheerily, punching his fist in the air.

Brooke laughed.

I didn't.

I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks soo much to those who reviewed and gave this story a chance on HPFF, and I also thank everyone who has favored or alerted this story (who I do not know of because FF doesn't send me emails anymore? but that may be because I have 6000+ emails in my inbox from FF alone..)

And please tell me your thoughts in your review! Thank you!

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