"So, the question still remains: why desert your house's victory party? I knew you had no house spirit."
"The party's been on for more than two hours and will undoubtedly go on for many more hours," said Lily. "I'm simply taking a break. It's a beautiful day."
James shrugged, leaning against the wall and sliding his hands into the pockets of his Quidditch robes. "I suppose. If you're into that sort of thing."
Lily sent him a look. "Stop acting tough. It's beautiful, and you know it." She sighed, and James followed her stare across the lawn at the wasted trees and blue-grey sky. "I love November," she remarked.
"You love November? Who loves November?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's... it's just so average. November. The trees aren't all orange and red anymore, and there's no snow. It's just... dead."
"It's quiet," corrected Lily. "It's... contemplative."
"The month? The month is contemplative?"
"Yes," insisted the redhead. "I like it. I think it's a very neglected month, on the whole. People love June because it's warm and bright, and people love December because of Christmas, and people love October and April, because everything's just starting to change... but November is unduly overlooked."
