#sam dearborn

Sam Dearborn, You're in trouble, you know. I am not pleased with you at all, and I believe that I owe you a significant scolding for withholding two vital piece of information from me during the course of our "tumultuous affair": first, that James had a girlfriend, and second, that this fact bothers me quite a bit. Don't act coy, either; I know that you knew. I didn't know myself, but I'm quite certain that all of your obnoxious hinting was designed to finagle a confession I didn't even know was warranted out of me. As a result, I'm sure you're getting exactly what you deserve with this Sarah McKinnon business. Alright, there's your scolding. Now for your consoling: I am ever so sorry that you are thus forced to find new companionship, but there are worse things in the world. Actually, mate, this is a good thing. And seeing as you forced your friendship upon me almost the moment we met, I don't know how you can act as though you're rubbish at socializing. Clearly, it is your forte. I would know, because I'm not so bad at it myself, which makes me that much more sympathetic to the idea that you may be good at socializing but not SOCIALIZING, if you know what I mean. And I think you do. I hope you've written your letter by now and arranged your date, and I want to hear all about that, because you shouldn't be lonely simply because your platonic soulmate has assumed the chains of monogamy. Look at me: I am gloriously single and perfectly happy. That's bullshit, I'm bloody melancholic at the moment, but not because I'm single—just because the bloke that I fancy is busy being un-single with someone else. But, hey, once again, thanks for the heads up on that one. The thing is, houses don't really mean as much as people might think. Bloody hell, I sound like I'm quoting Fiona Keepdown (long story, never mind), but you can't use the excuse that you weren't a Gryffindor to say that you haven't got any nerve. I am a Gryffindor, but I like to think I'm reasonably intelligent and loyal and ambitious, which would technically land me in all four houses. So buck up and get yourself a lay. At least you're (hopefully) in a situation where that's within the realm of possibility. Onto other things—how is everyone in M.F.P.? Tilly and the lot? What are you all working on these days—more protests? I'm insanely jealous that you can actually do something in all of this mess, you know. I love Hogwarts dearly, but sometimes I feel incredibly trapped and useless here. There are more death eater attacks every day, and I'm sure you heard that git at the Ministry the other day who said that 'You-Know-Who had the right idea but the wrong methods.' Bloody hell, that sort of thing makes me livid. Anyway, I've got Potions homework, so I ought to go. I'm going to send this right away, because if I don't, I'll almost certainly regret saying about two thirds of it, but keep in mind that everything I've written and you've read is STRICTLY between the two of us, and if I get even the slightest indication that a bit of it has been related to a certain Head Boy (or anyone else), I shall personally insure that everything you love is taken from you and given to your enemies. You've been warned. Yours ever so sincerely, Lily Evans P.S. "Tall?" You are not tall. But I'll grant the fantastic hair, yes.

"I'm Sam of course. Are you Lily?"

"Yes.” Something clicked in Lily's brain, and she remembered where she had seen this person before - in the pub, on the Thursday of the Week of Demands. He had been sitting with... "Wait, are you...?"

"Well, I rather assumed you were James's girl," Sam chattered on casually. "You're the one Black always used to tease him about. I suppose you're the ginger but not the girl.”

Had she been less distracted, Lily might have blushed. As it was, she found herself rather flustered. "You're James Potter's cousin?"

"Almost. His mum's cousin, really, but it's more or less the same thing. Well, if you're not James's girl, I reckon I can be nice to you after all. Fortunate, really-you seem an awfully good sport." He took off his fedora and bowed slightly. "Sam Dearborn, and - before you ask, yes, I am, unfortunately quite related to the bloke we're supposed to be protesting. Eg's my older brother... always was a pompous git growing up. Kids these days... honestly... well, what are you waiting for?"

Lily was beginning to catch the rhythm of Sam's all-over-the-place way of speaking. "For you to let me get a word in edgewise," she replied, and when he grinned at the reply, she mirrored his expression.

- Chapter 28, “Pheonix”, “The Life and Times”, Jewels5

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And it was exceptionally odd, sitting there in James Potter's drawing room, talking about Quidditch after the day and night and morning and afternoon that they'd all just had. It was bizarre and somewhat surreal, and this was heightened by the fact that Lily had not eaten in about hours. The only thing that conquered her hunger just then was her exhaustion, which made her reluctant even to rise a little from the couch to reach for a second butterbeer. She dropped her head onto Marlene's shoulder, contributing a little to the discourse, but mostly listening and watching. Sirius—draped over the chaise lounge like a castaway cloak—laughed a lot. Marlene fidgeted absent-mindedly with her new haircut. Sam could not keep still and would jump up from his seat every time he had a point to make. Remus appeared tired, but innocently so: he seemed neither weary nor careworn, but only sleep-deprived. Peter had to fight to get his words in. Donna argued with everyone. Mary spoke more knowledgably about the Harpies than she possibly could have about any other team. James scarcely stopped talking. Time slipped by at an unusual pace. Moments stretched unnaturally long, but very soon, more than an hour had passed, and it seemed to take only a few minutes.

"So you're the girl, are you?" the wizard asked, almost accused really, but there was a hint of humor in his blue eyes. "What girl?" asked Lily, bewildered. "My cousin's girlfriend of course. You should know that I'm very protective of family." "I'm not your cousin's girlfriend," Lily replied. "Who's your cousin?" "If you don't know who my cousin is, how can you possibly know you're not his girlfriend?" "Because I'm not anyone's girlfriend." "That's the spirit, Mate." "No—really. I'm not." "Oh." The wizard raised his eyebrows. "Well, that doesn't make much sense, does it? Men will always be a mystery to me, I suppose."