A/N: Remember when I said this story would have frequent updates? lmaooooo. But like, y'all should have known better than to expect that from me. I'm very very sorry, life is strange. Tbh this chapter is not thoroughly edited, I'm posting it basically as soon as I finished writing it, so idk how good it is. I just wanted to update quickly now that I'm finally writing again. But I think it's fun, so I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 2: Fast Friends

I love the sights and sounds of September 1st.

The clouds of grey smoke billowing from the massive red steam engine. Rain on the platform – it's rained every single year now. The wheels of luggage carts rolling on the ground under the weight of heavy trunks. The excited squeals of groups of friends finally reuniting after a long summer apart. Parents calling "make sure you write every week!" as their kids board the Hogwarts Express. Students laughing and owls hooting and the train whistle blowing.

The sounds of going back to Hogwarts. All of it feels just as exciting and as magical now as it had the first time I burst through the wall between platforms 9 and 10 and finally truly believed in all the stories Severus had told me.

I'm seventeen now. Taller and wiser and with better hair. But being here reminds me of being a wide eyed kid, the nostalgia of it gets me every time. I want to commit every single bit of this to memory, because I am keenly aware that this time is the last time.

"Evans! How are the kittens?"

That's a new sound. I stop on my way to board the train and turn to see James Potter striding towards me, hands in his pockets. His shiny, new head boy badge is pinned proudly to his robes. I smile at him. "Hey! The kittens are all gone to good homes."

He comes to a stop in front of me. "You didn't keep one for yourself?"

"I wanted to, but kittens need too much attention and Oliver is already a jealous cat."

"That's too bad, I love small animals. How was the rest of your summer?"

"Pretty calm, still just the kittens and my internship and hanging out. How was yours?"

"Same, I just spent some time with my mum and the lads. I read your article about the Ellis Moor pitch keeper, by the way," he says, and the gleam of excitement in his eyes tells me this is why he actually came over. "So good. I didn't think they let interns write articles but after I read it, I could see why they let you. There was so much in there that I didn't know. How did you even find him?"

I raise my eyebrows in surprise, feeling a pleased flush bloom across my cheeks. I hope it's not too obvious.

"Thanks! I met him at a Silk Street Charmers concert, and then he came with us to the pub after. He had so many amazing stories. Obviously, like he's seen decades of teams pass through Ellis Moor Stadium, so he's got all of these incredible anecdotes about quidditch legends that no one's ever heard. Of course I asked if he'd do an interview for the Prophet, and he said only if I was the one to write it so…" I shrug, unable to keep the grin off my face.

That article is my favourite thing that I've ever done, and I think that even when I've published a thousand, I'll be just as proud of it. Potter's right, interns don't get to write articles. The fact that I did, that a piece I wrote was published and I got to put my name on it as an intern is something I'm always going to take pride in.

"That's incredible." Potter tilts his head, eyebrows quirked slightly. There's a hint of curiosity in his features. "I had no idea you were so into quidditch."

I wonder if he's adding this to his short list of things he knows about Lily Evans. "I've liked quidditch since I got to Hogwarts. But I got really into it when all the Puddlemere transfer ban drama was happening last summer."

Potter grins at me. Behind his glasses, there's surprise in his eyes. "Oh my god, that was insane. The most depressing summer of my life." His expression darkens a little. "We were about to win our tenth league title in a row, too. I still think there was an agenda. That should be your next big story."

My lips twitch. I've seen Potter in Puddlemere shirts enough times that his being a fan isn't news to me. But I add believes in the anti-Puddlemere conspiracy to my list. "I plan to write about real stories, not conspiracy theories spun by bitter fans."

Potter's mouth drops. He looks scandalized. From behind him, Sirius Black calls his name. Potter looks over his shoulder and then glances back at me. "I gotta go. But this isn't over, Evans. I'll make a believer out of you."

I laugh. "I don't think you will."

"We'll see, won't we? See you later, Evans."

"See you."

I wave as Potter turns to join his friends, and then head back towards the train. I'm wondering whether I'm too late to save our usual compartment, when I spot a head of dark hair in my periphery. Evelyn's blue eyes catch mine from where she's standing with her family. I smile at her, and she smiles back, but I wonder if she was watching me and Potter?

x.x.x.x.x

The first week back flies by so fast, I'm in a bit of a daze as I walk to Potions early in the morning on the second Monday back. How are we already here?

Arriving on a Friday evening gave us the weekend to unpack, settle in, and catch up with everyone. Someone always throws a welcome back party in the common room on the first night back – for the past two years, Potter and his mates had taken that responsibility upon themselves. I was relieved (though not surprised) that his badge didn't stop Potter from continuing with it this year. It's a Gryffindor tradition, and it's always so much fun. This year, it was so much fun that we picked it right back up where we left off on Saturday evening too.

It's why I'm glad Potter is head boy. At this point, I think I can trust that he'll take things seriously and make the right decisions when he needs to. Our meeting with Dumbledore on the first night back proved that to me. But I don't think a party here and there hurts anybody, and someone like Lewis Collins would never stand for it – not that it's all that relevant, because it's a Gryffindor thing and Collins is a Hufflepuff, but still. It's nice that the head boy and I are on the same page.

Potter and I met with the Prefects on the train for introductions. We gave them instructions for the feast and first year orientation, and informed them of the dates for the first couple of meetings. Lewis Collins glared at Potter so furiously the entire time, it took all my strength not to giggle every time I caught sight of him – a few times, I failed. My giggling made Potter laugh (I'd told him about Collins' letter) which made me laugh even more, and we probably came off a little high.

Collins even pulled me aside after the meeting to rant to me, thinking I'd take his side. I've never met another person so lacking in self awareness. Like I don't think I've been all that subtle about my dislike for him over the years that we've been prefects together, why would he think that I'd want him to be head boy? The look on his face when I said I was thrilled it was Potter and thought he was an excellent choice… okay, so maybe it was a little rude that time, but I couldn't help laughing again. What a prat.

At the first proper meeting the next morning, when we'd gone over plans for the next few weeks and assigned rounds and tutoring shifts (we figured it was best to just get it out of the way right away), Collins skulked in the back of the room and glared at both of us, and despite our hangovers, Potter smirked at me like we had an inside joke. Since then, I haven't seen much of Potter. I mean, I've seen him around, obviously. But I haven't talked to him much. We've been so on top of it from the start, there hasn't been a need.

In Potions, I take the seat that has been mine since we started using this room in fifth year: third row from the front, left side of the centre desk. Just far enough that it doesn't encourage Slughorn to interact with me any more than he already feels compelled to, but not so far back that I can't read the board.

It's a fairly small class this year. Sixteen students between all four houses. Last year's exam was tough, so it's not that surprising. Both Marlene and Mary have dropped it, leaving me all alone in class. Last week was a lecture week so it hasn't mattered so far, but I know we'll be picking our partner for the first assignment this week. I'm decently good friends with a few people here so I don't think it'll really be an issue, but I've always worked with Mary and we had such a good system. I hate working with people I don't know that well.

Professor Slughorn sweeps into class with his usual jovial clap and a "good morning!" that's just a bit too cheery first thing on a Monday morning. He drops a book on his desk and faces the room of students, most still in the process of waking up from the weekend.

"Last week, we discussed mood altering potions. For the next couple of weeks, as you know, you'll be concocting one. Let's start today's class with choosing your partners for this assignment, because I think you'll find it useful to brainstorm throughout this lecture. You have five minutes."

Everyone immediately starts shuffling around the room and talking all at once. I was expecting for this to happen on Wednesday, so I'm a bit thrown. Shit. Who do I want?

I look around the room to observe my options. Not any of the Slytherins. Definitely not Severus. Not Collins. Black and Lupin have already partnered up a few rows behind me. In front of them, Pettigrew is sitting alone at his desk, but he seems unbothered, so I assume he and Potter have already planned to pair up even though he's – predictably – late. Evelyn and our dormmate Eliza Cresswell have partnered up too – something else I've learned in the week back at school: Evelyn and Potter are off again. Idiots, honestly.

I'm too busy looking around the room to notice when he quietly slinks up next to me. I'm about to get up to ask Hestia Jones, a sweet Ravenclaw who also looks lost, if she wants to be partners… when his familiar voice says, "Partner up with me." He's too close to my ear.

I immediately go rigid. Instinctively, I take a step away before I turn to Severus. "No."

"You don't have a partner anyways," he says, defiantly setting his books down at the seat next to me. It's a small little action, but it immediately makes my blood boil. Severus stares at me with his still, dark eyes, daring me to challenge him. I glance back at Hestia, but she's talking to someone else already, and a quick sweep of the room tells me just about everyone else has paired up already too.

Fuck. I might really have no choice but to be partners with him. No, no, no. I glance at Slughorn, thinking maybe I can make up some excuse to get out of it – but he's positively beaming at us, he's so chuffed to see his dream team together. So that's out.

"I do have a partner," I say anyways, my tone icy to my own ears.

Severus gives me a skeptical frown. "Who?"

At that moment, Potter rushes into the room – hair a mess, tie crooked, bookbag slung haphazardly over his shoulder. He apologizes to Slughorn, but slows down when he notices that there's no teaching happening and everyone's still talking.

"Potter," I blurt, without thinking, as he walks towards his seat.

Thinking I've called him, Potter slows as he gets to my seat. "Yeah?"

"Potter's my partner," I tell Severus.

"What?" Severus hisses. Potter hasn't even had a chance to react, and he's already furious.

I turn to Potter, who looks confused, and give him a pleading look. Please go with it. Please. Potter stares at me for only a second, then glances at Snape.

"Yeah," he says, coming around behind me to get to the seat next to me. Severus is forced to step out of the way as Potter comes into his space and pulls out the stool. He swiftly pushes Severus' books to the edge of the table and drops his own in their place. I let out a breath. Potter stares at Severus and raises an eyebrow, as if wondering what he's still doing here. "Piss off?"

Severus stares at me incredulously. "Seriously, Lily?"

I shrug. "Potter's really good at Potions."

"I topped Potions last year!" Severus is fully scowling now. As if Potions skill is really the reason I don't want to work with him. I know that he knows it's not, and that knowledge irritates me even more.

I shrug again, emboldened now that I have an out. "The sight of Potter's face doesn't make me want to stick my head in a boiling cauldron." Next to me, Potter snorts. Severus' nostrils are flaring now. "And anyways, his final potion was much tougher than yours."

This, I think, has done it. He looks between me and Potter (who looks pretty pleased), as if he can't decide where to direct his fury, but then Slughorn says, "Two more minutes." With a final withering glower, Severus grabs his books back off the desk and whips around, stalking off to find someone else to work with.

"Thank you," I say to Potter as soon as he's gone. "I owe you one."

Before he can answer, Peter Pettigrew jumps off his stool and bounds over to us. He looks decidedly unhappy. "What the hell, Prongs? I thought we were partners!"

"Shit, sorry mate." Potter grins at me. "Evans didn't give me much of a choice."

I wince slightly. "Sorry. I didn't want to be partners with Severus."

Potter does a quick sweep of the room with his eyes, swiveling around on the stool to see who's behind us. "Oi, Jones! Do you have a partner?" Hestia shakes her head. I guess whoever she was talking to already had a partner. "Perfect." To Pettigrew, he says, "You can work with Remus, and Sirius can work with Jones. He'll be thrilled." To me, he says, "Sirius fancies her something fierce, but you didn't hear it from me. Spread that around though, will you?"

A couple of minutes and some shuffling later, Potter and I have moved back a couple of rows because he prefers sitting farther back. Pettigrew is seated in Black's vacated spot next to Remus, two rows behind us. Black and Hestia are sitting in the row behind us – he does look pleased, and Remus only looks slightly exasperated, which is a relief. I wouldn't want any of them to actually be annoyed with Potter on my account.

"Seriously, thanks," I say again, once we're all settled in our new seats.

Potter shakes his head. "Snape's a creep." He smiles at me. "And who am I to say no to an O in Potions when the opportunity presents itself?"

I smile, feeling thoroughly relieved once again. I wouldn't want Potter being annoyed with me, either.

"Did you get us good times? What took you so long, anyways?" Black asks from behind us.

Potter turns around, and I busy myself with getting my stuff ready to take notes. "Yeah. I waited outside Zeller's office since six, and she showed up like fifteen minutes ago, said she slept in. But I'm sure Aubrey had something to do with it, because Zeller looked well out of it and he strolled in with a shit eating grin on his face. Looked surprised as fuck to see me there still, he was probably expecting I'd have left for class before Zeller showed."

Bertram Aubrey is the Ravenclaw quidditch captain – a vile arsehole who is thoroughly unfamiliar with the concepts of good sportsmanship and fair play. Marge Zeller is the school's flying instructor and in charge of everything quidditch related. So that explains Potter's lateness – he was booking training times.

I find myself feeling rather impressed with Potter once again. As well as being on top of head boy stuff, he'd also put up a notice for Gryffindor quidditch tryouts the very night we got back and booked the pitch for it last Monday. Tryouts were yesterday and the day before, a full week before any of the other captains had managed to schedule theirs. I'd gone to support Marlene, though already being on the team made it pretty unlikely she'd lose her spot. I don't think Potter has even decided on the team yet, but he's apparently already booked the best training times? And he'd waited for Zeller since before I even woke up to do it.

"You're kidding?" Black scowls. "I'm gonna get it out of him."

Potter shrugs. "We got the best times either way. And he hasn't even held tryouts yet, but Ravenclaw's prospects this year are shit. No offence Jones, not you."

Hestia snorts. She plays as a chaser on the Ravenclaw team. "None taken. You're dead right. I can't believe Aubrey would go that far though, you really think he'd mess with Zeller?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Black mutters darkly.

"Alright, settle down! Let's get started," Slughorn calls from the front of the room.

Potter turns back around as everyone starts to quiet down. He pulls a roll of parchment and a bottle of ink from his bag, but pauses while he's opening it and glances at me.

"Can I borrow one?" he whispers, glancing at the pens I have set out in front of me.

I've been taking my notes with ballpoint pens and paper notebooks since third year, when the novelty of parchment and quills wore off – they're expensive and impractical, and while I still use them for assignments I have to submit, pens and paper win out for everything else.

I like to take my notes in different colours (another reason to use pens – who's going to carry around multiple bottles of ink?) so I have several on the desk. I give Potter a black one, since he writes with black ink and I have an extra.

"Thanks." Potter pops the cap off and sticks it on the end, like I've done. I watch him as he writes the date in the top right corner of his parchment. In the left corner, he writes Potions and below that, Lecture #4 – Mood Potions (4/ )

"This is the final lecture on mood potions before I'll let you try brewing," Slughorn is saying at the front. Potter nods his head once and updates his title to read Mood Potions (4/4) and then goes back through his stack of notes and updates all the rest: (1/4), (2/4), (3/4).

"This is so much better than a quill," he says. "It's so smooth. And you don't have to keep dipping back in for ink.

"Right? Try a coiled notebook next, it'll change your life."

He glances at the one I'm writing in. "Where can I get one?"

"Muggle stationary shops."

"Guess I'll have to stick to parchment for now, then."

I don't know why I'm so fascinated. In all our years of being in classes together, I've never sat next to Potter in class or worked with him on a project. I guess part of me has always wondered how he learns, how he studies. He never comes off as particularly academic, but he always does so well. I've always just assumed he's naturally gifted and maybe I've been slightly jealous of that.

But despite his occasionally turning around to talk to Black, he's actually a diligent note taker. His notes are neat and organized. He leaves a column of parchment on the left empty, and a few times I see him scrawl his own notes and questions there, additions to what Slughorn is giving us on the board. My own notes are a mess in comparison, and it's a more irritating revelation than I care to admit.

When the lecture is over, Potter turns to me. "I already have some ideas, but we should do a bit of research before we start brewing next class. I have time tonight if you want to meet at the library after classes?"

I stare at him, a little dumbfounded, and nod. Behind us, Black snorts in amusement.

Potter's lips twitch. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"You're like…" I trail off. Potter waits. "Um, really… organized." I fight the urge to cringe. I'm aware for the first time of how much attention I've paid to him in the last hour. I watched how he takes his notes, for fuck's sake. I know it's just getting some answers to years of curiosity, but it's still embarrassing to realize.

Potter laughs lightly and shrugs. "I just figured we're both busy, it's easier to get things out of the way quickly."

"You'd cream your pants if you saw his annotated calendars and colour coded weekly to do lists, Evans," Black says, coming up next to Potter. He grabs Potter's books off the desk and shoves them into his bag impatiently. "Let's go."

I wrinkle my nose and Potter shoves his friend's shoulder. "Piss off, you're so fucking crass."

"Does four work for you?" I ask Potter, ignoring Black altogether.

"Yeah, four's good."

Black is already in the process of tugging Potter away when Evelyn and Eliza sweep past us, arms hooked together. Though Eliza tries to tug her away, Evelyn pauses and looks over her shoulder on her way out. When her eyes meet mine this time, she doesn't smile. There's something decidedly cold about her gaze, and it sends a bit of a shock through me.

Black glances between me and Potter and arches a brow. Potter rolls his eyes and shoves his friend ahead of him. "Go, I can't be late for McGonagall's class three times in a row. I'll get detention."

Well, this is awkward. It feels like the right time to say bye to them, but all three of us realize we're heading to the same class as I start walking too. Potter slows to let me fall into step with him and Black.

Black shakes his head. "You can't get detention anymore, you're head boy!"

"I'm not sure that's how it works, mate."

"Okay, then what's the point?"

"Of what?"

"Of being head boy?"

Potter sighs. "Sirius, we're not having this conversation again."

Black glances at me. "Evans, did you know the head boy isn't even allowed to forgive detentions?"

I snort. "Yes."

"They really conned us," Black mutters, shaking his head. He throws an arm around Potter's shoulders. "So how's he doing so far?"

I tilt my head thoughtfully. "Surprisingly well, actually."

Potter scoffs in offense. "Surprisingly? You told me I'm the perfect man for the job, the best possible candidate, you're so glad Dumbledore chose me, I'm extraordinarily talented and handsome?"

In front of us in the corridor, I spot Evelyn turn around to glance at us again. Eliza tugs on her arm to make her walk faster, but Evelyn refuses to change pace. Is she listening to us? Out of the corner of my eye, I see Potter looking at her too.

"What does your handsomeness have to do with being head boy?" I ask, fighting an amused smile.

Potter turns back to me and grins brightly. "Are you saying I'm handsome?"

"Are you suggesting I've never said that before and therefore you definitely just lied about me singing your praises?"

"Yes I'm a liar, but am I handsome liar?"

I raise an eyebrow at him. "It's almost as if your confidence depends entirely on other people's reassurance."

Black snorts. "Shit, you're right. He does love compliments."

Potter scowls at his friend. "Wow, okay. We're all just bullying James today."

My lips twitch. "Why are you talking about yourself as part of the third party bullying you?"

"Listen," Potter says.

After an extended pause, he still hasn't said anything, so I say, "I'm listening."

"He doesn't have anything to say," Black tells me. "That's just a thing he says when he has nothing else to say."

I laugh, and Potter huffs. "I've been up since five, none of my so called friends got me anything from breakfast even though I was busy setting our team up for a successful season, and honestly I'm feeling very targeted right now."

There's a whine in his voice and almost a pout on his lips and it makes me laugh even harder. "My god, you're needy," I manage through my giggles. I search in my bag and pull out a granola bar. "Here, you big baby. Eat and stop talking."

Potter's eyes actually light up as he takes the granola bar. "Coconut chocolate chip! That's my favourite combination."

"Mine too! I stock up on these before the semester. I need a constant supply of snacks."

Potter shrugs Black's arm off his shoulder and puts his own around mine instead. "I told you we'd be fast friends, Evans."

I smile. I think he might be right.

A/N: Thank you for reading, as always. Please leave a review, and feel free to come talk to me on tumblr, I'm moonawrites over there.