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Chapter Text

On September 1^st, 1976, sixteen-year-old Lily Evans approached the brick barrier between platform nine and platform ten by herself for the first time.  The usual constants—her anxious mother, her awkward best friend—were both absent.  Her sister, whose presence was less reliable (and less pleasant) but still a typical component of a September 1^st scene, was also missing from the picture.

Petunia’s endless wedding preparations were not unlike a gas, in that both had the tendency to expand and fill whatever space they were provided.  An invitation emergency (a typo celebrating the union of one Petunia Evans to a Vermin Dursley—not actually Lily’s fault, although she wished it had been) had made it “simply impossible” for Petunia to accompany Lily to the station as usual.  Lily, attempting to head off an argument by anticipating her sister’s next move, had suggested that their mother stay home as well, to help Petunia make whatever wedding decisions she considered that day’s priority.  When her mother had protested, Lily and Petunia pointed out that, at sixteen, Lily was certainly capable of taking the bus into London and making her way to Kings Cross Station on her own.  Faced with the rarely unified front of both of her daughters, Rosie Evans had supposed it would be best for everyone concerned if she stayed home with Petunia.

“Anyway,” her mother had said, “don’t you usually go with Severus?  Come to think of it, we haven’t seen him around as much this summer… did he get a job to keep him so busy?”

All summer Lily had fended off inquiries into Snape’s life with the vaguest possible responses.  Her mother, unfortunately, was not the type to leave things lie, and Lily was forced to change the topic back to the wedding, which had been promoted to only the second worst topic of conversation in the Evans’ household.  Traveling with Snape was unthinkable.  Equally unthinkable was explaining why she couldn’t speak to him anymore, so she’d avoided telling her mother of their… falling out.  This strategy resulted in a guilty Lily leaving the house that morning with two breakfast sandwiches, one for her and one for Severus to eat on the bus into London.  She’d eaten both defiantly, bouncing around on the cracked vinyl seats of the pokey old bus.  Immediately after disembarking, she’d spotted a homeless man panhandling, and the guilty feeling returned in full force.  Although, she’d comforted herself, egg sandwiches don’t hold up very well for hours on a hot bus.

Now, Lily stood alone, her hands wrapped firmly around the trolley’s bar, squaring off against the solid barrier.  For a moment she was the only still spot in the bustling station, but almost immediately someone bumped into her back, breaking the illusion.

“So sorry dearie, hope I didn’t hurt you!  But you don’t want to be standing there, it’s rather in the way…”

“Of course,” Lily responded automatically, “so sorry.”  But the woman, already moving on down the platform, paid her no mind.  Feeling suddenly very out of place, Lily began to walk briskly toward the barrier, passing through it without any more hesitation.

Now, she found herself alone on a very different platform.  It retained the same frantic energy as the muggle platforms had—with children running past, parents shouting after them, trolley wheels rattling, and trunks thudding to the ground—but that was where the similarities stopped.  The bustle of platform nine and three-quarters also included the screeches of owls, explosions originating from ill-fated card games, and sparks shot back and forth between children playing tag in the crowd.  Rising up in front of Lily was a spectacularly scarlet steam engine emitting billows of white, sweetly-scented smoke.  Luggage, ranging from trunks to cauldrons to loose quills, was being levitated in and out of the train’s windows, while parents in long, flowing robes embraced their children.  Pieces of conversations floated by her: Don’t forget to send us an owl once a week, I am expecting those arithmancy grades to improve this year, do you hear me? Did you see—Benjy went to China and trained with dragons over the summer!  In front of her, a student’s trunk bounced open, sending textbooks, broomstick, robes, and an entire packet of fresh slugs cascading across the platform.  And underneath it all was the familiar hum, the pulsing reminder, of magic.  As the sensations washed over her, Lily let herself sink into them, reassured by how welcoming they still felt.  Magic is real—magic is real and it belongs to me.

An odd shiver passed through her and her eyes snapped open in response.  She couldn’t see what had startled her.  The platform was as sunny and busy as it ever was, but Lily felt cold, the magic of the moment before slipping out of reach.

“Lily?”  She turned at the sound of the voice and saw Alice Okafor approaching her along the platform.  “Lily, darling, I knew that was you!”  Alice’s sweet smile dropped slightly as she got a good look at Lily’s face.  “Is something wrong?  You look a little funny...”

“Nothing, nothing,” Lily replied, shaking it off.  “Someone just walked over my grave is all.”  She dismissed the image of a dark-haired boy, shoulders hunched, hurrying through the crowd away from her.

“That’s awfully morbid for such a nice day… Are you sure—”  But Alice was cut off by a high pitched squeal, the only warning before both girls were dragged into a tight embrace.

“Oof—Mary—I can’t breathe!”

“Babessss!” shouted Mary at full volume, “I missed youuuu!  Alice, you look gorg—”

“No thanks to you, darling—you’ve absolutely crushed my ‘fro.”

“—Lily, you look like you ate something funny on the way here—”

“Cheers very much, Mary—”

“Did your mother and sister leave already?  Thank Merlin—your sister’s a real pill!  You know, last year she told Alice her hair looked untidy?”

“And she didn’t even have the excuse of you jumping all over it first,” sighed Alice.

“Gosh, sorry, Alice,” said Lily, looking at her with sympathy.  “She really says the stupidest things…”

“Well,” said Alice, “in fairness to her, maybe it was untidy?”  The other two girls shouted her down as they maneuvered themselves and their luggage up the steps and into one of the cars.

Once Lily and Mary had situated themselves in a free compartment, Alice said goodbye.  “I’m off to find Frank.  He’s Head Boy this year, you know, so he’ll be busy most of the trip.”

“It should have been you as Head Girl,” said Lily loyally.

“Oh no, not me—I was never good at the discipline side of being a prefect.  Besides, with six N.E.W.T. classes, I just don’t have the time!  I won’t envy Frank his schedule, that’s for sure.”

“Who’s Head Girl, then?” asked Mary.

“Some Slytherin.”

“Angelica Nott,” Lily clarified.

“I think Dumbledore’s hoping it might build some stronger interhouse ties,” said Alice, gathering up her things.

“He’s been on a real unity kick lately—who does he think he’s kidding?” said Mary, rolling her eyes.

“I know,” said Alice, sadly, “I hate to say it but honestly, it really seems like it’s too late for that.  Well, sorry to be a downer, girls—I’ll clear out!”  She left the compartment accompanied by waves and (in Mary’s case) loud kissing noises.

“Ugh!” exclaimed Mary, slumping back against the seat and lifting her long, honey-colored hair off of her neck.  “I’m still all sweaty!  How come neither of us ever think to put a featherweight charm on those things until they’re halfway up into the overhead rack?”

Lily was spared answering this impossible question by the loud and dramatic arrival of the other two Gryffindor girls.  Marlene and Dorcas pushed through the compartment door, elbowing each other and shouting in a cheerful sort of way. 

“Merlin, Marlene, I keep getting caught in your—whatever the hell this is,”  snapped Dorcas, yanking what appeared to be a gauzy shawl off of her head and thrusting it at Marlene.  Marlene, hands already full of pumpkin pasties, gestured vaguely to indicate Dorcas should put it on for her.  Not one to be told what to do, Dorcas draped it over Marlene’s head in as inconvenient a way as possible before sitting down with a huff.  Marlene tossed her head until the shawl settled around her shoulders, then threw herself down next to Dorcas.

“Hiya!” she said, “Pasty?”

“Hi Marly,” replied Lily fondly, “Hi Dorcas—I see you haven’t snapped and killed her yet.”

“And they thought it couldn’t be done,” said Dorcas, grimacing.  “And yet here she is, three weeks later, entirely unscathed.  A modern miracle.”

“Where did you even—hi Dorcas—where did you even get pumpkin pasties?  We haven’t so much as left the station yet!” Mary asked, pushing Marlene’s knees off of her side of the bench.

“The trolley witch loooves me,” said Marlene with satisfaction, “and so does Dorcas!”

“Whatever,” grumbled Dorcas, but her tone wasn’t particularly convincing, especially when she followed it up by taking a bite out of the pasty in Marlene’s hand.  “Well, we all know my summer was hell—how about everyone else?  Mary?  Didn’t you go to Paris or something?”

“Oh, Paris was wonderful—” Mary launched into what looked to be a long and rapturous story.  Lily let herself relax into it, watching the scenery slip by outside the window, Mary’s voice rising and falling over how beautiful Paris was, about French boys she’d met who’d told her she was beautiful, about croissants she’d eaten and drinks she’d had by the Seine, records she’d listened to at her aunt’s bohemian parties…  “Lily?  Lily, are you listening to me?”

With an effort, Lily refocused.  “I’m sorry, Mary—I must be tired.  What did you say?”

“I said, I brought my record player this term so you can get to work charming it to play at Hogwarts!”

“Well,” said Lily cautiously, over Marlene and Dorcas’ cheers, “I’ll do my best of course, and Merlin knows I’d do anything to get some music into that castle, but I don’t want to risk screwing up your kit.  Remus said that Potter tried it on his last year and it all went a bit tits up somehow—turned every record they tried to play into ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’… He said it devastated their record collection and Sirius wouldn’t speak to Potter for two days.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t have you, did they?”  Mary dismissed these concerns with a wave of her hand.  “I can always get another player if it takes you more than one try, but if anyone can figure it out it’s you, babe.  Everyone knows James is absolute pants at charms; I can’t figure out why when he’s so good at everything else.”

The door banged open, throwing Lily back into high alert.  “Aha!” shouted Sirius Black, barging into the compartment.  “You were talking about us—don’t you know gossip is hurtful?”

“All I said,” sniffed Mary, “was that James is pants at charms.  And it’s not gossip if everyone’s known it since first year.”

“She has a point, Sirius,” said Remus mildly, leaning in through the open door with Peter Pettigrew to speak over Sirius’ shoulder.  From her corner of the compartment Lily could only see the three of them, but the fourth couldn’t be far away.  “Hello, girls—Lily, Dorcas, Marlene—good summer?”

Sirius cut him off.  “Yes, obviously, Prongs is pants at charms, but he likes to pretend no one has noticed—what prompted this observation, if I may ask?  What?  Moony, I said ‘if I may ask!’ What else could you possibly want from me?  Hello, I guess.  Smashing to see you all.  Now if we could get back to the point, which was mocking Prongs, that would be even more smashing.”

Dorcas waved Peter and Remus in to sit, kicking Marlene’s legs off of the bench to make the offer more inviting.

Marlene, unphased, picked her feet back up and placed them on Dorcas’ lap.  “Bet you a galleon we can charm Mary’s record player so that it turns out better than yours did.”

Sirius groaned theatrically, swooning against Peter, who was trying to push by him to sit with Dorcas.  “Don’t even speak of it!  Petey-boy—hold me—don’t let ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’ hurt me anymore!”

Remus peeled Sirius off of Peter and ducked his grasping arms with agility born of experience.  “Now you’ve gone and done it—that was quite possibly the worst week of our lives that you’re speaking of so lightly right now.”

“He means it,” said Peter, sitting down at last on Lily’s left.  “For a while there I really thought our friendship would end in a multiple homicide.”

Sirius, abandoned next to the door, wailed loudly to remind everyone of his presence.  Remus, sitting on Lily’s other side, yanked Sirius down into the space vacated by Marlene’s feet.

“The worst part of it,” Remus laughed, “was that James really thought he could fix it—he must have gone through a dozen records before he admitted defeat!”  Despite the anxiety still lurking in her gut, Lily found herself caught up the story, laughing into Remus’ shoulder.

“You wouldn’t be laughing, Moony, if it had been your records he used,” said Sirius sulkily.  That backstabbing berk destroyed my copy of Ziggy Stardust AND The White Album!  The man has no shame!”

“Ziggy Stardust belonged to me, you bastard—” with that, James burst in from where he had been hanging back in the corridor.  At the sound of his voice, Lily’s laugh shriveled up inside her.  Despite herself, her head turned slowly toward him, eyes moving upwards as if pulled by some perverse force.

She had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye.  He’d gotten darker over the summer, or else it was just his white shirt that made his tan more obvious.  She had the strange sensation of double vision; looking at him in standing in the doorway in a t-shirt and jeans, but remembering him as he had been the first few train rides, when his parents still bought his clothes and all he’d had was robes.  Seeing him in muggle clothing now left her feeling unsettled.

“I knew he’d come in if we took enough shots at him—he’s too vain to stand around and listen to us list his flaws…”

The compartment door, still unlatched, banged against its frame, the sound oddly echoing.  James hadn’t moved, but he hadn’t spoken to her either.  She looked away, striking up a conversation with Peter about his summer holidays in Brighton.  It didn’t matter—she could feel his eyes on her even with her back turned.  The cold feeling from the platform was back full force.

“It’s a crime to make me watch this…” Sirius muttered, before saying loudly, “Sit down already, Prongs, you sad wanker…”  James allowed himself to be pushed down into the seat across from Sirius.  On Lily’s left, Peter was telling her and Mary about the terrible sunburn he’d gotten his last few days at the beach.  On her right, James started to jiggle his knee hard enough she could feel it through Remus.

“Is it still really obvious?” Peter asked anxiously.  “I’ve been so worried it will peel right when we start classes up again…”

Looking at his cartoonishly pink face, Lily started to laugh.  The knee jiggling paused, and then started up again twice as fast, shaking the whole bench.  Ignoring it, she continued, “Peter, love, I’ve only ever seen a worse burn on myself!”  His face fell.  “Don’t worry, though—after the last summer of torture I made sure I looked up a charm for it as soon as I got back to the castle.  I’ll fix you up now.”

Marlene burst in, unable to contain herself, “Lily sent us a picture from that summer—and guess where it is right now!”  She shook her bag gleefully.

Horrified, Lily almost dropped her wand.  “Marly, NO!  Why would you even have that with you!”  She started to get into the spirit of it, the words and exaggerated expressions coming more easily.  “Do you carry it around?  Waiting to humiliate me?”  God bless Marlene, honestly.

Dorcas shook her head, a wicked smile spreading across her face.  “No, but I happen to know she had to put her photo album in her bookbag because she doesn’t know how to pack.”

“It’s a conspiracy, I see—you’re both in on it!”

Marlene, who had immediately started digging in her enormous white bag, lifted her hand triumphantly.  “Here she is: our little tomato!”

With a shriek, Lily abandoned her attempt at fixing Peter’s face in favor of lunging across the compartment and swiping at the polaroid, but Dorcas was faster, passing it from Marlene over to Sirius, who looked absolutely delighted.

“In fairness, Lily,” said Mary unhelpfully, “if you didn’t want people to see it you shouldn’t have sent us all photos.  And you definitely shouldn’t have worn your red dress for the pictures… it really makes the whole thing so much worse.”

Lily, having calculated the odds of her coming out the winner of a scuffle with Sirius Black, known biter and all around dirty cheat, opted to preserve her moral high ground.  She turned back to Peter’s face, saying in what she hoped was a dignified and unbothered manner, “Well, I deeply regret ever trying to keep you all in the loop about important events in my life.  Catch me sharing anything with my best friends ever again!”

“Good look on you Evans—like a salamander with hair,” said Sirius, cackling as he passed the photo over to James and Remus.  There was an uncomfortably long, silent pause before—

“Jesus wept,” said Remus, his head thunking back against the seat in resignation.

“Moony, if you’re going to be a bitch, please do it in a way I can comprehend and contribute to,” said Sirius.  “But yes, I believe that is the general sentiment.”

“No—” said James, defensively, “it’s that… Well, how come it isn’t moving?”

Lily was focusing very hard on Peter’s forehead.  The charm was tricky, and it required her full attention. “You’re pinching me,” said Peter, squirming.  Automatically, she loosened her left hand, where it had been gripping the back of Peter’s neck.

“It’s a muggle photo.”  The humor had drained out of Mary’s voice.  “Obviously.  Honestly, James, you and your mates are all Neanderthals…”

“Hey!”

“What’s a Neander…?”

“Never mind!” said Marlene forcefully, snatching the photo back and putting it carefully away in her bag.  In her blunt way, Dorcas began an unprompted and very loud summary of a playoff quidditch match she and Marlene had attended the week before.

Lily finished the last spell, returning Peter’s skin to its natural state of English pastiness.

“Oh wow, Lily, that feels so much better!  Does it look ok?”

“Brand-spanking new,” said Sirius, “like a baby’s bottom.”

Scowling, Peter flipped him off.  As Sirius and Peter began an exchange of insults that promised to be lengthy, Lily lowered her wand hand into her lap, knuckles white.  Deliberately, she began unpeeling her fingers from around its handle, where they had begun to cramp.

Abruptly, she stood.  “I think I had better head to the prefects’ carriage now.  I’ll see all of you later!”

Remus frowned.  “Surely it’s not time yet?”

“No,” replied Lily, inventing rapidly, “but I wanted to speak to Frank before the meeting starts.  So.  I’d best be off.”

“But Lily,” said Mary, “we’ve barely seen you!  All we’ve talked about was my trip, and quidditch… You hardly wrote all summer—I was hoping that meant you’d been up to something really juicy…”

Lily paused long enough to give Mary a genuine smile.  “Don’t worry babes—I’ll see you all at the feast and I’ll tell you then.  Promise.  You won’t be able to shut me up.”  Before anyone else could protest, she crossed the compartment and stepped through the door, deliberately keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead.

As the compartment door closed behind her, she forced herself a few steps down the corridor before leaning back against the wall, lightheaded with relief.  She’d have to follow through and go find Frank now, but anything would be better than staying in that airless compartment.  Frank would be easy.  Sweet and cheerful, but perceptive enough not to ask her any questions.  And most importantly, able to carry a conversation without her help long enough to get her to the prefects’ meeting.  Then, all she would have to do would be make it through the meeting, and then through the ride up to the castle… It would be too rude to Alice to try to ride with her and Frank for that…  She’d have to figure something else out for the carriages… And then just make it through the sorting and the feast…  and then she’d be back safe in her room!  So really, only a few hours more before she could relax.

Lily began sifting through her summer memories for ones that could be polished up into funny enough anecdotes to keep her friends satisfied at the feast.  She was fairly certain that the wedding preparations, at least, would be hilarious from the outside.  Having come up with a plan, Lily set off in search of Frank.

~

Lily sat in the window of Gryffindor tower, gazing out on the silent grounds.  The moonlight was very bright tonight, leading the other girls to pull the curtains closed around their four-posters, but Lily couldn’t sleep.  In the chaos and noise of the welcoming feast, surrounded by faces she wasn’t sure she wanted to see, she’d wanted nothing more than to be alone.  Now that she was by herself in the silence of the dormitories, absent the chatter of her friends to remind her she existed, she felt disturbingly empty.

Snap out of it, she told herself sternly.  You just need some sleep—there’s no excuse to get all maudlin.  But she still made no move to get in bed.  The grounds looked so magical at night.  She remembered when the whole castle had felt like that, all the time: beautiful and enchanted, calling her to explore every inch of it.  When she’d first arrived, all she could think was that it was like something out of E. Nesbit, or the Wizard of Oz, or Narnia—that she’d found a gateway to another world, one more fascinating and lovely than the ordinary world she’d left behind.  Impulsively, Lily stood up and stepped into her shoes, picking her way silently across the room and down the spiral staircase.

As she drifted through it in the moonlight, Hogwarts felt alien and unreal.  It was completely silent: no students in the halls, the portraits all fast asleep—not even the ghosts were out.  She had the funny thought that maybe she was the ghost, haunting a version of the castle that no longer existed.

At first she was only walking aimlessly, but eventually she directed her feet toward the great hall; perhaps she could lie on one of the tables and watch clouds move across the starry ceiling until she got tired.  It was as she approached the staircase into the entryway that she heard voices for the first time that night.

The sounds were indistinct but clearly male, and she hung back, unwilling to break the spell of the nighttime castle by having a conversation with a handful of her idiot classmates.  Feeling her way in the darkness, she slipped on the stairs—just a little, but enough to disturb one of the sleeping portraits on the wall. 

“Careful there, wench—tis dangerous to roam these lands alone at night!”

Beneath her, she heard a muttered curse, and the sound of people gathering their things and hurrying off into the night.  Luckily, none of them came up the stairs in her direction; they must have been heading the opposite way, toward the dungeons.  She waited until she was sure she’d heard them disappear before she began moving again.  Moments later, Lily rounded the corner and saw what they’d left behind.

“GET OUT, MUDBLOODS” read six-foot tall letters all along one wall.  In the flickering light of the torches that were kept burning all night in the entrance hall, she could see that whatever they were written in was red, red as blood.

Lily felt very cold.  A lump of ice seemed to have formed at her core, and was seeping into the rest of her body.  Through her paralysis, one thought forced its way to the front of her mind: she couldn’t let anyone else see this.

She drew her wand—her hands didn’t feel like hers—and attempted a vanishing spell.  Of course, nothing happened.  Nothing happened the second, or the third time she tried it as well.  She stared blankly at the wall, unable to think of anything else to try.  Moving jerkily and automatically, she stumped over to one of Filch’s many broom closets and hauled out a bucket, soap, and brushes.  She filled the bucket with a stream of soapy water, and set to work scrubbing at the letters.

Almost an hour could have passed by the time she admitted that this wasn’t working.  The harsh soap Filch used might have been burning her hands and cracking the skin on her knuckles so that they bled into the water, but it had made no discernable difference to the writing on the wall.

Lily sat back on her heels, tears blurring her vision.  She had to fix it—she couldn’t leave this thing hanging over the entrance.  A while ago, it had occurred to her to go and wake a teacher, but the thought of even one more person seeing this—seeing how many people resented her presence in this castle, seeing how far they were willing to go to make sure she knew it, seeing how weak she was in front of it—made her sick to her stomach.  She just had to think.

Think, Lily—think like a fucking witch!

She squinted at the wall through her wet eyes.  Whatever it was, it wasn’t spelled to the wall—that much she could see.  It was painted on.  Which meant that whatever they’d used for paint was what was holding the magic, which meant a potion.  And potions, she could handle.

Lily rose to standing, facing the wall head on.  “I am a fucking witch.”  Then she got to work.

~

Rather than leave the wall for the time it would take to return to Gryffindor tower, Lily had resorted to summoning supplies from the potions classroom.  On the unlikely chance that Slughorn noticed they were missing, all she’d have to do would be to say she’d needed to borrow them for an experiment of her own, and he would be delighted.

She was working on analyzing the paint on the wall—something had been added to give it it’s unnatural resistance both to vanishing, which was to be expected, but also to muggle cleaning methods, which was less common.  Most wizards wouldn’t even think about counteracting those, meaning that most “permanent” inks sold by wizards were actually only impervious to magical erasure.  This was most likely a custom mixture, and whoever had made it was very thorough.

One of the small cauldrons behind her rattled, alerting her that the breakdown of her sample was complete.  She crouched by it and began siphoning the components into vials, frowning at them as she did so.  Most seemed like standard additives, but then one caught her eye—cleavers root—she was sure of it!  That would stand up to scrubbing and vanishing charms, as well as give the paint it’s shocking red color.  Well, not for long!  Now that she’d found the trick, constructing a counter-brew would be simple.  She set to work with renewed confidence.

Thirty minutes later, Lily was painting her jerry-rigged potion—a unusual dark green—overtop of the writing on the wall.  If everything worked correctly, the potions would begin to counteract each other, consuming each other’s components and leaving only water behind.

“G” was the first to go.  As she watched the color leach away, and the paint lose its grip on the wall and splash to the floor, a surge of vindication swept the exhaustion from her body.  Those bastards were going to come downstairs tomorrow and see that their efforts had been for nothing, she thought fiercely.  No one would even know they had tried.  It would be as if it never happened.  She attacked the rest of the slogan with renewed intensity.  But despite the success, something was nagging at her.  Where had she seen cleavers root used before?

The memory came to her just as she was finishing up the “U,” and it knocked the legs out from under her.  Two summers ago, just before her trip to Dover with her family.  The two of them had been hanging out in the park, brainstorming local potion ingredients she could collect while she was away.  They’d always loved to do that—saved money for one thing, but also just for the fun of it.  Finding the magic even in mundane, sleepy Cokeworth.

She could hear him saying, “Gallium verum, or lady’s bedstraw, or cleavers, grows on costal cliffs—bet you could find that in Dover!”  And she’d laughed, and asked what in the world they wanted with cleavers.  And he’d said… And he’d said… 

“Ink.  Makes an beautiful permanent stain against any muggle cleaning, and supports any resistance a dye already has against wizard removal… only works with reds though, for some reason.  Maybe if you find some, we can figure it out.”

She’d never found some.  No, she had, but Petunia threw all her foraged supplies away during a dreadful row.  Either way, she returned from Dover emptyhanded, and they’d never figured out why cleavers roots were only compatible with red dyes.  They hadn’t, but possibly he had.

Lily sat there on the floor for a long time.  The cold, which had seemed to retreat as she worked on her potions, was creeping back into her limbs, climbing up to her neck, paralyzing her.  She stared at the word “BLOOD” on the wall, in its tell-tale scarlet.  It remained, like a brand, even as the “MU” dissolved and dripped away.

Nothing happened to shake Lily out of her trance, no noise in the hall, no change in the light.  She simply decided to stand back up.  There was nothing else to do—she began to paint over the final four letters with her counter-brew.  It didn’t feel like a victory anymore.

Pyrrhic, she thought to herself, when the losses are too great for celebration.  But the only thing she’d lost tonight, she’d lost a long time ago.  So why did she feel this way?  She stepped back, and pressed her hands over her eyes.  A thick blanket of shame was descending on her, bringing heat to her face and a pricking sensation behind her eyes—but the more she cried, the more ashamed she felt.  Furious with herself, she rubbed her fists against her eyes until she saw stars, and then bent to begin clearing away her potions supplies.  It was at this moment that James Potter and his mates burst, laughing, into view at the turn of the stairs.

James came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the stairs, Sirius stumbling a few steps past him before seeing what he was looking at, and Peter and Remus running into their backs.  They stared at each other.  Lily, frozen in place, wondered what this could possibly look like to James.  Him, out for a midnight snack with his best friends, sneaking giddily around the castle just for the hell of it.  Her, in her pajamas and docs in the entrance hall, with her potions kit scattered on the floor around her.

“Evans?  What the bloody—”  began Sirius.

“Lily?” Remus stepped around James to stare at her.  “Lily, what on earth are you doing?”

They collectively took a few more steps toward her, and then they saw it.  All four of them froze, as the pieces began to fit together.  Her, exhausted and tearstained, the cauldrons on the floor, and the stark, towering, red “BLOOD” still on the wall in front of her.  She could see the ripple of realization move across their little group, as each of them looked first shocked, and then furious.  She wanted to throw up.  She wanted to scream.  She wanted nothing more than for James Potter and his friends to have never, ever have come near the entrance hall tonight.

“Who did this,” he demanded.  All she could do was look at him blankly.  “Evans, who the fuck was it!”

“Why?” she said.  Her voice felt as if it was coming from a great distance.  “What does that matter?”

“What does it… Of course it matters!  It matters because we’re not going to let them get away with this!”

“You?  What are you going to do?”

“Fix it,” he said furiously.  “Stop them.”

She laughed.  It sounded strained and unnatural even to her.  “Stop it?  You can’t do anything.  So it doesn’t matter who wrote it—all that matters is that no one ever sees it.”  She turned back to look at the wall, where the words still lingered.  “Useless,” she murmured.

Remus stepped forward.  “Sirius, let’s you and me go get McGonagall—”

“No!” snapped Lily, wrapping her arms around herself to hold in the nausea roiling in her stomach.  “It’s bad enough that all of you had to be here.  I can’t let… no one else can see it!”  She knew she sounded desperate, judging by the concern on all four of their faces.

“Come on, Evans,” said James.  He spoke more quietly now, but desperation had crept into his voice as well.  “Please.  Just leave it… if you won’t get a teacher then at least let us—”

“Just leave it?” she asked, the ice in her veins coloring her voice.  “Do you actually think that I could.”

“No—Evans!  That’s not what I meant!  I meant that we can finish what’s left and you can, you know, take a break or something.  I don’t think…”

She looked at him flatly.  “It’s already done.”  Behind her, “BLOOD” began to drip, and run down the wall.  As they watched, it turned clear, like water, and within seconds nothing was left but a puddle on the floor.

“Oh.  Well, we could—"

“Just fuck off, Potter,” she said, exhaustion roughening her voice.  “Please.  Not tonight.”  She turned her face back to the wall.  After a tortured moment of indecision, she heard James and the rest of them leave.

Lily leaned her cheek against the cool stone of the corridor wall and closed her eyes.  When she was a little girl, she and Petunia would lay spread-eagled on the grass outside and stare straight up at the sky to try to feel the turning of the earth.  Lily was always so sure she felt it, and Petunia would laugh and tell her that it was impossible, that the earth was too big.  She would lie there and listen, enthralled, as Petunia would explain again about the orbits of the planets, and the seasons, and the science she was learning in school.  But the whole time Petunia talked, Lily could feel the earth swooping beneath her.  The magic inside of Hogwarts felt like that.

She could feel the hum of it moving under the skin of the castle now—something that was always present, but which she could only feel when she sought it out.  Maybe if she sat here long enough, she would start to hum too, she thought idly.  It would be nice, to just dissolve into it.  To sit here until she turned to stone.

Lily rose stiffly to her feet.  The boys had vanished her bucket of soapy water, and neatly stacked her potions kit by her bag before they left.  She stared at it blankly for a moment, before bending over and packing it back away, her hands clumsier than they had been before.  She straightened up again, adjusting her bag, and began the slow walk back to Gryffindor tower, trailing one hand along the stone wall as she went.

Chapter Text

Lily spent the next morning in a daze—at least in part due to simple exhaustion. When she’d gotten to sleep at last it was very late, and even then her sore arms had led to dreams of scrubbing the walls over and over, while the words simply reappeared. When she’d woken up she was certain that she would come downstairs to find that her efforts last night had been no more permanent than her dreams, and that the horrible words would still be there, mocking her. Instead, the wall was as blank as if she’d imagined the whole thing.

The boys were giving her a wide berth, and she wasn’t sure if she was more grateful or more irritated by it. The last thing she wanted was to be reminded of the witnesses to her long night, but this idiotic reluctance to go near her, as if she was the one who was toxic, rankled. Driven by an impulse she didn’t want to examine, at lunch she went back to the tower and changed out of her uniform and into jeans. She only had Herbology that afternoon, and if Professor Sprout said anything, she could justify it by saying they were easier to dig in.

As it turned out, Professor Sprout didn’t say anything. Her sympathetic smile as she handed Lily a basket of stakes was the only evidence she’d noticed at all.

They were working at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where the silver birch and young oak still provided dappled shade before they gave way to the dark and silent Scots pines. They were supposed to be walking in pairs, scanning the ground for the rare evron, or cloudberry, which would be just beginning to ripen from a delicate salmon pink into a deeper amber. Once found, they were supposed to mark the site for observation and count the berries so that Professor Sprout could monitor her conservation efforts. In practice, however, this translated into wandering mostly aimlessly through the delicious autumn sunshine, chatting with their friends and not doing very much work at all.

Lily pulled her ponytail tighter before bending to plant a stake by the clump she and Marlene had spotted.

“Good eye, Lily!” said Marlene, peering at it through enormous yellow sunglasses.

“Are those my glasses?”

Marlene pulled them off and looked thoughtfully at them. “Possibly,” she shrugged, placing them on top of her messy hair.

Lily scowled, but it was mostly for show. “So, Marly? Now that it’s just us… How did it go over the summer? You know, meeting the parents?”

Marlene looked puzzled. “But I’ve already met Dorcas’ parents. So have you—loads of times!”

“Yeah, but you weren’t dating then! It’s different.”

“Is it?”

Lily stood up abruptly, putting her hands on her hips. “Marlene!”

“Alright, alright,” Marlene sighed. “Well, I guess it was a little weird, mostly because we decided not to tell them.”

Lily nodded, then, “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, we figured it wasn’t worth making a whole fuss unless we knew this was going to be something serious.”

Lily frowned, thinking of everything she knew about Marlene and Dorcas. No matter how much Dorcas complained, they’d been glued to each other’s sides, and happy to be there, since they’d become friends in second year. She’d wondered, last year, if dating would change that, but they seemed exactly the same. If they didn’t have a habit of making out with the curtains of their four-posters open, she would never have known that anything had changed. Honestly, she couldn’t picture it ever changing.

“You always seemed serious to me…” Lily said slowly. Then she looked at Marlene more closely and decided to turn it into a joke. “Well, you’re a better couple than my sister and that jackass—and they’re getting married!”

Marlene laughed, which had been Lily’s goal, but when the laugh ended the uncharacteristically thoughtful look returned to her face. “It’s better this way. We’re still both really young—who knows what might happen. After school, I mean.”

Marlene shoved the sunglasses back on her face and returned to talking in her usual loud, scatterbrained way. “Yeah, so it was kinda awkward, just because we had to remember not to say or do anything too romantic, you know. Not that that’s a problem for Dorcas, the heartless cow! Do you remember that she forgot my birthday last year? Anyway, so this year we went to the England/France playoffs game for the world cup because she had to make it up to me…”

She continued to talk, but Lily wasn’t listening. Behind Marlene, a black haired boy had shuffled into view, hunched over his bundle of stakes. His back was to her, but it didn’t stop a chill from creeping up her spine.

“So I made sure to scream extra loud in her ear the whole time—but also Mr. Meadows came too? Which was fun, because he was someone to talk tactics with and he obviously knows his shit because of how he used to play, but it wasn’t really a date date then was it?”

The boy turned, and a flare of panic shot through Lily. She wasn’t ready—she couldn’t speak to him! Not here, not now! But it was as if she was moving underwater—everything was responding so slowly, her body so distant and her fear so close.

“Lily? Lily? And you’re not even fucking listening.” Marlene’s hurt face refocused in front of her eyes. “You’re the one who asked!”

Marlene turned to stomp off, and then she saw the boy as well. He was now facing them, staring fixedly at Lily. “Snape,” Marlene spat. She turned back to Lily, “Is he bothering you? Because I can tell him to go fuck himself, right here, right now…”

“No! No, don’t bother.” Lily turned her back on Snape with an effort. “Let’s just keep walking—we’re pretty much done here anyway.” Her smile to Marlene was pleading.

With one last glare in Snape’s direction, Marlene linked her arm through Lily’s and pulled her away. “Ok, so since Mr. Meadows was there the whole time I told Dorcas it didn’t count as a make-up date, and that she had to make it up to me again. So she’s pissed at me, but she’ll do it. She’d better—can you imagine bringing Mr. Meadows on your dates?”

~

Marlene’s chatter never lagged, but the easy, sunny afternoon had slipped away from Lily, leaving her restless and on edge, tensing at every new voice. By the time class was over, all she wanted to do was get back to her room and lay on her bed with the curtains drawn—maybe even sleep if she could manage it—but even that didn’t seem very attainable. Marlene, remembering something she needed to discuss with James regarding quidditch practice, had run ahead to catch him, leaving Lily to finish packing their things at the edge of the woods. Which was, of course, all the opening he needed.

“Lily,” she heard from behind her. She didn’t turn around—instead she looked up the hill at Marlene and the boys, heading up toward the castle and dinner. As she watched, Marlene jumped on James’ back, the sound of their cheerful shouts carrying down the slope. The sunlight was dazzling around them, bright enough to hurt her eyes.

“Lily.” She could feel him hovering, even though he seemed reluctant to approach her more closely. She had been bracing herself for this all class, or maybe since the moment she’d arrived back at school. Or, if she was being completely honest, she’d spent all summer in this same state of apprehension. Now that it had arrived, however, she still felt unable to face it.

She toyed with the idea of just walking away, but what would be the point? He would just follow her, or he would lay in wait until another time, another day when she was alone and without friends. He was good at that—he’d always been so patient. Reluctantly, but without any other option, Lily turned and stepped back into the shadow of the trees to meet him.

He said her name a third time, but she still couldn’t respond. He’d also gotten taller, and his hair had gotten longer. There was a time when she knew his face better than her own, but a few months apart were all it took to render it strange and unfamiliar. Now that they were both back in the shade, hidden from view somewhat by the trees, he came closer—close enough that she had to put her hand out to stop him. She couldn’t step back without looking as though she was retreating, so she stayed where she was, watching the hurt flicker across his face.

“Lily, please. Just talk to me,” he begged.

“Why,” she said, her lips numb.

“I’ve waited—I gave you space all summer! I know I hurt you, but please—can’t you forgive me?”

“I mean, why should I forgive you? What’s changed since last year?”

He looked at her, uncomprehending. “I miss you,” he said softly.

She’s missed him too. Over the summer there were countless times she found herself walking toward his house, toward their spot in the woods, toward the park at night where they used to talk. When Petunia would yell, or their mother would cry, or when the paper brought terrible news, he was always the first person she thought of. And then it would hurt all over again.

Sensing weakness, he pressed on, “Lily, I’ve missed you so much. I know that I was wrong and I promise—I’ve changed… I’ve realized that those guys… they’re not important. You’re the only thing that’s important! So please, just, let’s be mates again? That’s all I want!”

God, it’s all she’s wanted to hear, for so long, but she just can’t. Not after everything she knows. Steeling herself, she asked, “Is that true?”

“Of course it’s true—what are you asking?”

“Cleavers root,” she said, forcing herself to hold his gaze. Not looking away let her catch the fury that crossed his expression before he was able to control it.

“What about cleavers?” he said, but the innocence in his voice was clearly feigned.

“Why don’t you tell me,” said Lily, as steadily as she could.

He cracked, just like she knew he would. “I didn’t know what they were going to write with it—Lily, I swear I didn’t know! They just said they wanted something that would be hard to wash off.”

“And you thought what? That they were going to make a big flower power mural with it?” she snapped, suddenly sick of this game they’re playing. “How can you say things like that and still claim you want to be my friend?”

She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and jerked her back to him, hard. “Don’t TOUCH me!” she yelled. She made her voice as firm as she could, but there was an edge of panic to it that she’d rather he hadn’t heard.

He let go, if only because she stopped trying to get away. “Lily, please! You have to understand—that stuff—it’s not talking about you. I don’t mean you! Never you.” He lifted his hand like he was about to touch her face, but thankfully dropped it when she flinched away.

How could she make him understand that that didn’t make anything better? It felt just like last year all over again. Her: pleading, desperate, feeling him slipping through her fingers. Him: refusing to see that this was all much bigger than just the two of them. “Your friends mean me,” she said quietly.

He waved his hand. “They don’t matter, I already told you that! They’re idiots, no better than tools. I’m just using them.”

He sounded as if he believed it. “Can’t you see that you’re the one being used?”

His face twisted with rage—naked and ugly, nothing left of the face she used to know. “No one uses me.”

She stepped back. He looked truly unhinged now, and it only took a moment for his anger to find a target. “Is that what you thought of me?” he asked, stalking toward her and grabbing her shoulders in a painfully tight grip. “Did you think so little of me? Was I so beneath you?” She could feel his hot breath on her face.

Lily tore herself out of his grip and drew her wand. “Stay back,” she warned. He did, breathing heavily. She turned and fled back up the slope to the castle.

When she stepped into the sunlight, it came as a shock—in the dark of the forest she’d almost forgotten it was there. She reminded herself to walk, not run. She couldn’t show any weakness.

He didn’t go after her, but his voice followed her out of the trees and into the sunny afternoon, “You’re going to regret this. Now that I’m no longer protecting you. You’re going to regret how you treated me.”

~

Lily lay on her bed, staring up at the scarlet hangings of her four poster. She could hear the cheerful shouts of her fellow students drifting up to her through the open window, but she made no move to get up. Mary, the first of the girls back up to the tower after dinner, found her still lying like this.

“Hey! I didn’t see you at dinner—who were you sitting with?” Lily dragged herself up to the surface to greet Mary, but Mary was already moving on to a new topic.

“I had dinner with Samuel from Ravenclaw seventh—I used to think he was kind of cute, so when he asked, I didn’t say no… But it’s not going to work out. He chews with his mouth open, and all he could talk about was the history of racing broom technology.”

“Mm,” said Lily, noncommittally. When it was clear Mary wasn’t going to press her on why she hadn’t been at dinner, she let herself sink back into her daze.

Offhandedly, Mary asked, “So why aren’t you heading to the Prefect’s meeting? I ran into Alice and she said there was one tonight—is it not until later?”

“Shite!” yelped Lily, springing off the bed. “I forgot about the meeting!” She began darting around the room, shoving quills and wand into her bookbag.

“Aren’t you going to change?” asked Mary.

“Why?”

Mary’s troubled eyes took in Lily’s muggle bellbottoms, her dirty trainers, her ringer t-shirt. “No reason.”

Lily, suddenly furious with Mary, banged out of the dorm with little grace.

~

Lily supposed she should thank Mary—it was down to her that she made it to the meeting at all. As it was, she ran down five flights of stairs and threw herself into a seat mere seconds before Dumbledore rose to address them.

“I miss anything?” she hissed at Remus, who had saved her a seat.

“Nah, not yet. Just Frank telling us all to sit down and shut up.” Frank, who was close enough to hear Remus’ whisper, rolled his eyes.

Dumbledore walked to the front of the room and directed his mild gaze around at them all. It felt somewhat pointed as he lingered on Lily’s corner, so she nudged Remus in the universal “shut up,” gesture.

Dumbledore looked back out to the room at large. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for being here this evening. And thank you to our head boy and girl,” here he gestured to Frank and Angelica Nott, who nodded in response, “for everything they have done so far to ensure a smooth transition back to school.” A few people, Lily and Remus included, politely clapped.

As Dumbledore launched into an explanation of their duties and responsibilities as prefects, with an emphasis (as he usually made these days) on ‘fostering inter-house unity,’ Lily shifted in her seat. “Wonder why he’s bothering saying all of this,” she said to Remus under her breath. “We already heard most of this stuff yesterday on the train…” As she spoke, however, Dumbledore got to the point.

“Many of you may be wondering why I am speaking to you today, if all I will be saying has already been said.” Actually, Lily was wondering why a man as old as Albus Dumbledore had such sharp hearing.

“But even in the short time that we have been back together, events have occurred that have forced me to reevaluate the role that I will be depending on you all to play.” A growing suspicion that Lily knew exactly what “events” Dumbledore was referring sent a chill creeping up her spine.

“Because of these unfortunate events, I will be asking the prefects to join with the teachers in patrolling the halls every night—not just on weekends. I will also be instituting a system where every night there will be a teacher ‘on call,’ who will be awake and ready to respond to any situation that you feel unequipped to handle on your own.”

Dumbledore looked directly at Lily as he finished, “I do not want any students to feel afraid in this castle, and more importantly, I do not want any students to feel that they cannot come to me—or any of the staff—with their fears.”

There was silence, Dumbledore’s gaze still on Lily. Eventually, someone raised their hand to tentatively ask, “Excuse me, Professor… but what do you mean by events?” and Dumbledore turned away to give a classically noncommittal answer.

Lily clenched her hands so tightly around the straps of her bag that her knuckles turned white. Nevertheless, the next time Dumbledore looked in her direction, she met his gaze with a blandly inscrutable expression that matched his own.

As Dumbledore, Frank, and Nott began passing out forms for people to input scheduling conflicts, Lily remained outwardly serene, but judging by Remus’ awkward shifting in his seat, he wasn’t entirely convinced. He was out of his chair and through the door the moment Frank called the meeting to a close.

Lily blew past Frank and Alice, barely acknowledging their friendly “hellos,” to catch up with Remus on the way back to Gryffindor tower. “You can’t run,” she snapped. “Or did you forget we live together?”

Remus, now effectively cornered outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, looked sheepish. “Look, Lily, I get that you’re mad…”

“Shut up! Was it you? What right did you have!”

“It wasn’t me,” said Remus calmly.

That meant exactly what she thought it did.

“Lily,” said Remus, pulling her attention back to him. “Just because I didn’t say anything myself doesn’t mean I think that he was wrong to tell.”

“Well that’s great for you, but it’s not your decision is it? And no matter what the mighty and wise James Potter might think, it’s not his decision either! Tell your mate to butt the fuck out of my life!”

Remus looking conflicted, opened his mouth to continue the argument, but Lily, the back of her neck prickling, had already turned. James was standing behind them, well within earshot, where he and Peter had just climbed out of the portrait hole.

Peter simply looked awkward, plainly contemplating ducking behind the portrait, but James’ expression was stricken. It made her angrier, somehow, to see it. That he would have the audacity to look as if he cared what she thought, when he could so easily ignore everything she’d said last night.

A thousand things rushed to her lips, ready for the fight she could feel brewing in the air. It was satisfying to know that it would only take a word from her to blow this whole corridor up—she had almost missed the feeling of being at odds with James Potter. But instead of glaring back at her like she’d expected, he looked down at the floor. Lily hated it. Why wouldn’t he just say what he really thought?

Her own memories of last summer, by the lake at the end of term, froze her tongue. Restraining herself to a vicious look over her shoulder, Lily slammed her way back through the portrait hole without another word.

Chapter Text

After the chaos of her first two days, the transition back into the regular school year was relatively uneventful.  However, this break did little to help Lily return to her normal Hogwarts routines.  With the memory of the writing on the wall and Snape’s threats still hanging over her head, she found herself jumping at shadows, unable to lower her guard in even the most familiar situations.  As weeks passed and none of her fears materialized, she became increasingly frustrated.  With no other available target, she was mostly angry at herself, firstly for her inability to move on, and secondly for her mounting, reckless desire for something, anything, to happen.  To prove that she wasn’t crazy to be afraid.

The new prefect patrols were draining, and she didn’t even have Remus to help make them fun anymore.  Dumbledore had decided to shuffle the partners around, ostensibly to “allow students the opportunity to meet potential friends from other houses,” but the Slytherins took it as a sign of a lack of trust in them specifically, and were insulted.  That didn’t make working with them any easier, and to be honest, Lily wasn’t sure she did trust them.  She couldn’t help but look around and wonder who might have been a part of the intimidation attempt she’d foiled, and who might have known about it but not cared enough to stop it.

In addition to weekly evening patrols, Dumbledore’s new system added a late-night patrol once every two weeks, getting prefects back to their rooms well after midnight.  She thought this might have been the reason she was having trouble sleeping lately—more and more often she found herself lying awake long after her roommates had drifted off, listening to the clock tick interminable minutes and hours by.  Sleep, when it would come, was restless and troubled.

On those nights she had taken to leaving her bed and pacing the castle as she had her first night back, looking for… she didn’t know what.  But knowledge of the prefect patrol routes gave her the freedom to move through the castle without ever seeing another living soul, and so she would.  She wandered the corridors, wand in her hand, sometimes until the grey light of dawn began to filter in through the narrow windows.  Then she would return to her bed and sleep the exhausted, dreamless sleep of the dead, forcing her roommates to rouse her in time to make it to class.

Last night had been one of those nights, meaning that this morning Lily was hauled out of bed by an unsympathetic Dorcas.  “Lily, we’re all tired, but this is getting out of hand.  Why don’t you set an alarm or something?”

With an effort, Lily remembered to grin at her.  “I wouldn’t want to put you out of a job!”  Dorcas rolled her eyes and stomped downstairs after Marlene, trailing a very ungroomed Lily in her wake.

Breakfast wasn’t much better.  Lily pushed her porridge dispiritedly around her bowl, wondering when Dorcas would decide that she’d eaten enough and she would be able to abandon it.  Against her will, she was slowly rejoining the world of the awake and coherent, helped along by the generous mug of tea Dorcas had slammed down in front of her.  She was just beginning to think that the day might be salvageable when James Potter and his friends sat down at the table next to them.

As James began a spirited debate with Marlene over the lineup for the first quidditch match of the season, Lily longed for the semi-conscious state she had so recently abandoned.  At least then she wouldn’t be so fully aware of what her hair must look like, and the crumpled state of the robes she’d excavated from the bottom of her bed.

Thankfully, the time for class arrived before he’d so much as glanced her way.  Lily was hopeful for the chance class provided to escape his presence, before she remembered that the first class was Defense Against the Dark Arts, which they all took together.  It seemed that James Potter and his inordinately loud laugh would follow her throughout the morning.  Glancing around the table for something else to focus on, she saw Mary still sitting, a full plate in front of her, and making no moves to join the rest of them in packing up.

“Mary?” she asked, louder than she had intended, “Aren’t you coming with?  Defense?”

Now James Potter was looking at her, as was everyone else.  “I don’t take Defense?” said Mary, slowly.  “You knew that?  Lily, it’s October already—”

“Don’t take… why…”  Lily, glancing around, thought better of what she was going to say.  “Sorry, Mary, I just keep forgetting we’re not all in the same classes anymore!” she said, punctuating it with an uncomfortable laugh.  She could feel a headache beginning to build behind her eyes.

“Right,” said Mary, a little stiffly.  “I’ll see you at lunch then.  Bye, girls!”

They moved to join the stream of students exiting the hall.  Lily stepped automatically along with the crowd, but she couldn’t help throwing a look back in Mary’s direction.  As she did, she caught James’ eye: he was looking at her with obvious concern.  They stared at each other for a moment, unidentifiable emotions tangling in Lily’s gut as she met his dark, worried gaze.  It was rage that floated to the surface and made itself known.  Prefect patrols and poor sleep was one thing, but James Potter was more of a problem than she liked to admit.  She wanted to tell him where he could stick his pity, but once again she swallowed her words and turned her back.

~

As Professor Rancourt, a loan from Beauxbatons with an elaborate accent, called the class to order, Lily wondered again how she could possibly not have noticed that Mary wasn’t in the class with them.  Admittedly, she had been pairing with Dorcas (Marlene and Dorcas couldn’t work together and maintain a ‘healthy relationship’), but it seemed so obvious now, looking around the room, that Mary’s long golden hair and running monologue were absent from the scene.  What else had she missed?

Marlene was working with a Ravenclaw friend of her brothers—something Boot.  Remus and Peter were sitting together, while Sirius and James were, as always, inseparable, their heads close together as they muttered to each other under Rancourt’s instructions.  As if he could sense her staring, Sirius looked up and met her eyes over James’ head with a knowing smirk.

Flustered, she looked back to the front just in time for Rancourt to announce that they would be practicing non-verbal spells today.  Lily swore under her breath.

Since she’d first asked Snape why McGonagall didn’t need a spell to make her desk into a pig, it had been drilled into her mind that non-verbal magic was the true indicator of power.  Purebloods preferentially used it, to the point that speaking spells aloud was considered gauche, the equivalent of falling asleep at a dinner.  Even outside of such insular circles, every wizard Lily had ever met had considered non-verbal magic the ultimate testament to a wizard’s skill.  Knowing this, Lily had had every intention of studying independently in the lead up to its introduction in class, the same way she and Snape had prepared for each new unit in potions.  Now that the moment was here, she remembered those plans, and how they had all come to nothing.

“You will face your partner, and they will attempt to cast a jinx at you, while you attempt to repel it, non-verbally,” said Rancourt.  When nobody moved, he shook his hands at them in an irritated motion, “Get started!”

“Is that it?” said Dorcas, frustration in her voice.  “No pointers, no instructions, just, ‘give it a go, then!’”  She turned to Lily.  “Well, here we bloody well go!  Do you want to cast or repel?”  But Lily was all at sea.

“You pick… I couldn’t possibly choose,” she said.  There suddenly felt like there were far too many people in the classroom—far too many eyes on her.  Don’t be stupid, she told herself savagely, why would anyone look at you?  They’re busy themselves, aren’t they?  At that unfortunate moment, she caught Sirius’ eye.  He winked.  Lily focused on Dorcas again as quickly as she could, but not fast enough to miss James’ head turning to see what Sirius was winking at.

The lesson went badly.  By the end of it, only James and Sirius were successfully able to both cast and defend non-verbally, and they made sure everyone knew it: each completed exchange between them seemed to be cause for raucous cheering.  By the time Rancourt called the class to order for his final words, Lily’s promised headache had arrived in earnest, the pain making lights too bright and distorting people’s words as they struggled through her brain.  She sat obediently next to Dorcas, who was still cursing under her breath, and waited for dismissal.

“Well, well,” said Rancourt, “not a completely unexpected result.  It takes many wizards a long time to adjust to a new style of casting, and some wizards…”  His eyes traveled over the class, lingering on James and Sirius where they were kicking each other under the table, “some naturally will have a greater aptitude than…”  His gaze landed on Lily with finality, “others.” 

She should have been expecting it, but it still knocked the breath out of her.

Somehow she managed to make it through the last few minutes of class, but if there was homework assigned she didn’t hear it.  As people stood and made their noisy way to the exit, and Marlene bounced up to take possession of Dorcas, Lily tried to simply move along with the crowd, invisible.

Pushing through the door she banged elbows with someone.  An automatic apology on her lips, she raised her head only to see James Potter, frozen awkwardly in the doorway.  Of course.  For a minute he looked like he might say something—if he said anything, Lily was pretty sure she’d kill him—but he didn’t, just walked on past to join his friends.  As she stared after him, someone jostled her from behind.

“Seriously—you know you’re blocking the door?”

“Sorry,” Lily moved forward once again into the busy corridor, wondering why James’ silence didn’t feel any better than his words would have.

~

The new patrol schedule, which was constantly in flux, was impossible for Lily to keep straight in her head.  She had a suspicion—just because it was that sort of day—that she was on duty tonight, but wherever she’d written the month’s assignments down had vanished into the chaos of her desk.  With a self-indulgent feeling of persecution, she set off to find Frank and ask in person.

Mounting the stairs to the seventh year boys dorm, she was stunned by what sounded like Frank and Alice having a row—something that had never occurred in living memory.  It was definitely them, though, their angry raised voices carrying clearly out of the dorm for her to overhear.

“—don’t know what on earth that man is thinking!  It’s absolutely unacceptable to ask the students to play these roles!”

“Alice, love, I agree with you—”  That made more sense to hear—She was pretty sure Alice and Frank had never disagreed over anything more serious than best ice cream flavor before.

“Frank, some of them have just turned fifteen!  They need their sleep—they can’t be expected to be up to all hours searching the castle…”  Was this about the new patrol schedule?  Lily hadn’t really thought about how everyone else was adapting to it, but Alice, as usual, was making solid points.

“Not to mention,” Alice continued at an even higher volume, “everyone needs that time to study!  It’s OWL year for the fifth years, and we all have our NEWTs coming up—how are we supposed to succeed when all of our time is being eaten up by—”

“I’m well aware!” snapped Frank.  “I’ve got NEWTs too, you know.”  There was a brief pause, and then…

“Frank,” said Alice, reproachfully.

“I know,” he said, anger gone in an instant.  “I’m sorry, I just…” There was a sigh, and then a creaking noise that implied they’d both sat down.  “I’ve been worried about you, too, with everything you’ve got going on right now.”  Frank laughed, “I wanted to fix the schedules in your favor—you ought to get a little preferential treatment around here—but Angelica’s nothing if not a narc, so I thought it would be better not to.”

“That’s not what I’m asking for—I mean, it would be nice if sleeping with you finally paid off…”  There was a suspiciously muffled giggle, and then silence.  Outside in the hall, Lily gagged.

A moment later, the conversation started up again, this time in normal speaking tones that she had to lean closer to hear.  “You’re right—we both know you are.  And when Dumbledore initially proposed this, I told him the same things.”

“It’s more than that though… I’m afraid it’s a question of actual danger to the students.  I mean, if there’s such an active threat that the castle needs constant patrolling, then surely having children lead those patrols is nonsensical!  We’d only be putting them in harm’s way—even if the perpetrators are also children, there’s a huge difference between fifth and seventh years skill levels.  And if he’s worried about…”  Alice’ voice dropped, “you know, which admittedly wasn’t violent, but you can’t deny that something like that is traumatizing—I mean, just look at her!”

“I know,” said Frank, “I’m worried too…”

“And she’s not the only muggleborn—he could be exposing more kids to this sort of hate.”  Lily was growing suspicious, but the new direction the conversation took was sufficiently distracting as to wipe the early parts out of her head.

“Why doesn’t he just hire more staff with a focus on security?”  Alice finished.

“He can’t,” said Frank grimly.  “Hogwarts is broke.”

“What?  What do you mean?”

“I mean that Hogwarts has no available funds—and definitely not enough to support the hiring of multiple new staff members.”

Lily’s jaw dropped, and she leaned back against the wall, struggling to take it all in.  She’d never thought of Hogwarts as a place that required things as mundane as money to operate.  It had seemed like such an immortal institution, a perpetual motion machine that would spin on forever.  Now, she felt like a very silly little girl, never to have thought where the food or the supplies or the teacher’s salaries might have come from.

Inside, Frank was breaking down a damning list of contributing factors.  “Dumbledore’s always been controversial among the wizarding establishment—too liberal.  But lately, more and more of the biggest donors to the school have stopped their contributions.  The Malfoys, the Notts… This year the Blacks discontinued an annual donation that had been in place for almost three hundred years!  The bigger problem is that the ministry has been cutting the budget every year for the past five years—they’re diverting more and more money to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  They’ve started a new development project to expand Azkaban and the budget for that seems to just be ballooning.  Besides, Dumbledore wouldn’t want to ask the ministry for security—he doesn’t trust them…”

Alice sighed.  “I have to say, I don’t trust them either.  Bringing police into a school… who knows what they might decide is a criminal offense if they get bored!  It would be one thing if it was just more teachers—I’d thought maybe he could bring on teaching assistants or something—but the DMLE*?  Ugh.”

“In the past, when there’s something he’s wanted implemented that he couldn’t get past the ministry, Dumbledore used to use his personal fortune to ‘donate’ to the school—that’s how we first got muggle studies forty years ago.  But he hasn’t made any move to do that this time…”

“Do you think he’s broke too?”

“Who knows… I mean, I’ll talk to him again… maybe I’ll ask that we exempt the fifth years from the late patrols?  It would mean extra on us, but it’s too dangerous for kids…”

Lily, noticing the conversation winding down, crept back a few stairs before starting up again casually, letting the stairs creak under her as a warning.  When Frank opened the door and handed Lily a new copy of her schedule without even asking what she’d come for, there was no evidence on his or Alice’s face of their fears.

~

While she did in fact have patrol tonight, Lily was relieved to see that she was partnered with Remus for the first time this year.  She didn’t think she could have borne another night of awkward small talk with a Ravenclaw acquaintance, or tense, icy silence with Narcissa Black, a Slytherin sixth year.

Without the routine of patrols, she hadn’t really spoken to Remus much this year—not since their fight on the first day of classes.  When she saw him, it was obvious from his awkward stance and wary expression that this thought had also occurred to him.

Choosing to ignore it entirely, Lily launched into the story of what she’d just heard.  Remus, like he was so very good at, took this for the apology that it was.  The stiffness vanished from his face, and within minutes they were striding down the corridor just like old times, talking over each other in their enthusiasm to break down every angle of the topic of discussion.

“I feel so stupid saying it, but I’ve never even thought about where the school gets its money?  There’s no mention of it in Hogwarts, A History, which retrospectively feels like a glaring oversight!  I mean, I’ve never paid tuition… is that just an us thing?”

“No, not even James pays tuition—it’s only supplies that aren’t covered.  Unless, of course, you happen to be among the select destitutes that warrant a special handout.”  Here, Remus gave a fussy little bow.

“Oh yes,” said Lily, “we few, we happy few, we band of beggars**…”

“But no,” continued Remus, “Hogwarts hasn’t ever operated entirely off of student’s fees, and those were abolished at the turn of the century.”

“So it’s just been dependent on donors?  Well, donors and the Ministry, I guess.”

Remus sighed.  “And the Ministry has never been particularly consistent about funding Hogwarts as far as I can tell.  New Ministers are always trying to leverage the budget to get Dumbledore to implement whatever pet changes they want Hogwarts to make.”  His face grew mischievous again, as he added, “Sirius says that when his uncle was here, old Minister Rolke tried to get the motto changed from titillandus to accedere^†?  Thought it seemed more impressive.”

Lily dragged the conversation back to the point.  “Speaking of Black, any idea why their family has stopped their donation?  Politics would be the obvious answer, but the fact that they didn’t do it before now has me wondering if they withdrew their support over something specific…?”

“Beats me,” said Remus, casually, “they’re cracked, the lot of them.”

Lily looked at him through narrowed eyes, but knew it wasn’t worth pressing the issue.  The most irritating thing about Remus was that he never spilled his friends’ secrets, no matter how small.  She had tried and failed to crack him with cunning, force, and pleading in the past, and experience had taught her that the more calm and mild his expression became, the thicker the stone wall underneath it was.

“You know,” began Remus, in an obvious subject change.  “Sirius, or really James, would be the right people to talk to about this stuff.  James would know better than me, since his parents work in government…” He broke off at Lily’s scoff, looking at her with confusion.

“Don’t talk to me about Black and Potter—not today.  And especially don’t talk to me about how much special access and knowledge they have!”

“Okay,” said Remus slowly.  “Any particular reason why today doesn’t work for you?”

Caught, Lily began to struggle through an explanation of the day.  “I just can’t seem to do it!  And then, of course, Potter does it before anyone else because why wouldn’t this also be one more thing that’s easy for him, and I have to spend the whole class listening to him whooping it up, god forbid anyone not notice him as he coasts through life…”

Remus huffed out an amused breath.  “Lily… welcome to my world.”

“How can you stand it?” she asked.  “We only have about three classes together and I’m already going insane…”

“Oh, they have other redeeming qualities.”  Remus gave a private smile, as though he was remembering a happy secret.  He would often make this face, she remembered, as the conversation would turn to his friends.  It hurt to look at now, just a little.

“It’s not just that, anyway,” said Lily.  “It’s… the shite Rancourt said at the end of class—I just know he particularly noticed that I was having trouble and…”

“Lily, everyone was having trouble,” said Remus soothingly.

“It’s not the same!” she snapped.  “You don’t understand—”

“Really?” said Remus, his eyebrows raised.

“Sorry.”  Lily muttered, chastened.  “Does Rancourt know?  About, you know…”

“I don’t think he does—or at least if he does, he’s never mentioned it to me.”

“You know, that’s really not fair.  If Dumbledore’s not going to ask your permission to share it then at the very least he should update you when he involves a new person in what’s basically the equivalent of your personal medical information!”

“Thank you for your support,” said Remus dryly, “but we’re getting a little off track.  Let’s focus on something we can actually change, yeah?”

Lily looked toward him hopefully.  “So what would you do?”

“This might be too radical,” he warned, “but have you considered practicing?”  He dodged the half-hearted punch she aimed at his arm with ease, intoning, “Violence doesn’t make me wrong.”

“Yeah, great idea, you prick, I’d never thought of that.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

Lily grew awkward.  “It’s just, I… I got used to studying with… someone, and now.  Now that I can’t work with them anymore, it’s hard to make progress.”  She swallowed—it felt like a very stupid thing to say, especially to someone as brilliant and dedicated as Remus.  It sounded as though she wasn’t capable of handling school on her own, but the truth was that in the past five years she’d never really been on her own.  It had been her favorite way to spend time together—just the two of them, safe from the demands and tensions of the outside world, figuring out new spells and researching potions and doing extra readings on defense theory.  Partners, like two detectives in the old noir movies he liked so much, working out the puzzles that magic presented.  The feeling of shared triumph, as the pieces came together to create a clearer picture, or something unlocked to reveal new rooms and ideas to explore.

In her worst moments, during the summer when she couldn’t cast a single spell to reassure herself, she wondered if she’d just been being carried along in the wake of real wizards the whole time.  She knew, probably, that that wasn’t true, but that didn’t mean other people wouldn’t think the same thing.  Everything Rancourt had said… she had to prove him wrong.  She wasn’t sure she knew how to do it on her own, but she knew she had to learn.

She could see Remus connecting the dots, his expression complicated.  Sympathy, in the end, won out.  “We could practice together—Merlin knows I could use all the help I can get to keep up with James and Sirius.”

“Really?”  She hated herself for seizing on his offer so desperately, but at this point it was a lifeline.

“Of course!”  Remus was warming to the idea now, she was relieved to see.  He may have offered it from simple pity, but at least he wouldn’t stick to it for that reason.  “We can practice on patrols—we can start right now, if you like.”

But they didn’t get the chance.  Out of the darkness up ahead there came an echoing scream.

~

Lily’s entire body went cold.  Wands out, she thought to herself, and looked down only to find it already in her hand.  She glanced back to see Remus similarly armed and ready.  “Slowly,” she murmured.  “It could just be some kids messing around.  Let’s get eyes on it.”

It hadn’t sounded like kids playing, though.  It had sounded terrified.  Even worse was the silence that followed—thick and absolute, pressing heavily against Lily’s ears as she and Remus crept forward.  There had to be a spell for seeing around blind corners—Lily was sure she’d read one once but had never learned it.  Cursing her lack of foresight, she peered around the corner, squinting into the shadowy hall beyond with her wand at the ready.

There was a girl lying on the floor in a pool of blood.  Her limbs were splayed around her, her hair wet.  One of her shoes was off.  With only one thought in her mind, Lily darted out from behind the cover of the wall.

“Lily!” came Remus’ panicked voice.  Still behind her, he hadn’t seen what she’d seen.  He must have rounded the corner because she heard him gasp, just as a bolt of light shot out at her, throwing the dark corridor into sharp relief.

Instinctively, Lily had dropped to her knees.  She hadn’t even known she’d had those instincts, but they seemed to have worked—she was pretty sure she hadn’t been hit.  But her graceless landing jolted through her, rattling her teeth.  At least she hadn’t let go of her wand.

She raised her head, blinking against the scarlet after-image of the suddenly illuminated corridor, struggling to get a read on where the spell had come from.  Where was Remus?  And what about the girl?  Belatedly, she cast the obvious shield charm, sending it as wide as she could in hopes of covering all three of them.

It was just in time, too.  The next curse rebounded off of it and was swallowed by the shadows of the corridor.  Lily, struggling to support her shield, couldn’t fire back without risking not only herself, but the girl in front of her, who still lay motionless on the floor directly in the line of fire.  She wondered if whoever this was would simply walk through her shield and seize her, when Remus appeared at her side.  He placed a hand on her shoulder, balancing himself as he leaned past her out of the shield to send spell after spell back down the corridor.

Remus was shouting, but their opponent continued to return fire in complete silence.  The flashes of light were disorienting, not to mention the dust and smoke that filled the air, as spells were deflected off her shield and into the walls around them.  Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it all stopped.

“Lumos!” shouted Remus, flooding the corridor with brilliant light.  Squinting through streaming eyes, Lily thought she saw a blurred figure turn the corner and out of sight.

The light faded to something more manageable, and Lily let her shield charm expire.  Remus was gazing in horror at the girl at his feet.  “Oh God… is that… is she…?”

Lily, still on her knees at the girl’s side, answered the question he couldn’t bring himself to ask.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know what to do next.”  Something wet was soaking into her pants, where she knelt on the red flagstones, but she didn’t want to look at it.

“Okay,” said Remus, sounding a little more certain now.  “I’m going to check for a pulse.”  He joined her by the girl’s side, gently placing shaking fingers against the side of her neck.  Her head lolled toward him, sickeningly, and he jumped, but then pressed his hands back to her artery with more resolve.

Lily got to her feet, taking in the corridor around them for the first time.  A few of the stones in the walls had been chipped—whoever it was must have been throwing some powerful curses around.  She started to shiver uncontrollably.  There was the wet floor, of course, and above her on the wall…

Lily found her voice.  “It’s not blood,” she said.  “It’s not blood—it’s paint.”

“And I’ve got a pulse!” said Remus, his voice loud with relief.  “It’s strong—she’s alive.  We’re paranoid idiots—I should have known it couldn’t be blood… I would have smelled it.  She’s probably just stunned…”

He looked up at Lily, smiling.  “Go on, then.  I’ll stay with her and you can go get Flitwick—he’s on call tonight…” his voice trailed off as he also saw the painting on the wall.  “What the fuck is that.”

Lily stared at the massive red skull, its empty eyes, the twisting snake emerging from its open mouth.  “I have no idea.”

Chapter Text

No, she hadn’t seen who it was.  No, whoever it was hadn’t said anything.  No, not even to cast spells.  No, there hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary that night.  No, she didn’t know why the other girl had been there.  No, she didn’t know what the skull meant.  Lily was starting to feel like all she could say was no, when the door of the office swung open and Dumbledore entered.

“Thank you for your assistance in this matter so far, Jacques, but I will take over from here,” he said, his gentle blue eyes fixed on Lily where she sat, rumpled and shivering, on a wooden chair in the center of the room.

“But I haven’t finished—this is my responsibility as the Professor of Defense!  I haven’t even begun to question the other one yet…” Rancourt started.

As calmly as ever, Dumbledore cut him off.  “And you will not need to.  As you can see, I am here, and I will be working with my students to identify these perpetrators as I see fit.”

Rancourt’s jaw worked, but he gathered his things and left without another word.

Dumbledore pulled another chair out into the room—it was odd to see him use his hands, and not magic—and sat down in it near Lily.  “I apologize for being so obviously late to arrive.  The only excuse I can offer is that I was needed to meet with the family of Miss Davis until now.”

“Is she alright?” croaked Lily.

“She is shaken, and her family is understandably upset, but she has suffered no lasting damage from tonight’s events.”  There was a glimmer of approval in Dumbledore’s eyes.  “However, that might easily not have been the case.  It is very possible that you and Mr. Lupin saved her life tonight.”

“Remus… where is he?  Is he okay?”  Her voice cracked.  “Rancourt wouldn’t let us stay together—he said he needed to interview us both before we had a chance to compare our stories…”  She could hear herself becoming more frantic, and struggled to slow down and speak clearly and respectfully.

“Professor McGonagall is with him now.  I am sure that he is equally anxious to see you.  But first, I must ask—”

“You want me to tell you what happened,” said Lily, heavily.  She realized she’d cut Dumbledore off and looked up at him guiltily.

When she met his eyes, though, for a moment he looked equally weary.  Then it was gone, as if it had never been there.  “No, Lily,” he said gently.  “I’m sure you’ve explained to enough people tonight.”

It had been a long list.  First Flitwick, who was the teacher on call that night, then again to Madame Pomfrey when she came to collect the girl—Davis, Lily remembered.  Then, in the chaos when Flitwick realized that Dumbledore wasn’t in residence that night, Rancourt had swept in and removed her and Remus to help him deal with the security threat.  Rancourt had made her repeat her story half a dozen times already, pouncing on any details that didn’t seem to line up with the previous recitation.  She’d been on the verge of tears by the third time through the evening, only able to hold them back with the help of her anger, which grew with every pointed question.  Now, Lily felt the return of that same anger make her next words sharper than she’d intended.  “What do you want from me, then?”

“Lily,” said Dumbledore.  “Is there anything that you might want to tell me?”

Lily looked into those mild blue eyes steadily.  Why was he bothering to ask her at all?  Dumbledore already knew that this wasn’t the first attempt at spreading propaganda in the castle; he already knew that she’d dealt with the first one on her own.  In fact, she had no way of knowing if the attempt she and Remus had thwarted tonight was the second or the seventieth since school had begun, but Dumbledore knew.   She felt a resentment, small, but hard and unyielding, forming in her gut.

“No, sir,” she said.  “Nothing you don’t already know.”

Lily stood—the paint on her clothes had long since dried, and it was stiff as she moved.  “May I go to Remus now?”  There was a pause, during which she thought he might press the issue, but instead he stood also and moved to open the door without another word, leaving their two chairs sitting in the middle of the room behind him. 

~

“Remus!” Lily rushed through the door to Remus’ side.

“Lily!” he said, his face white.  “Oh thank God—you were gone so long and I was so—”

Lily wrapped him in a hug.  It was awkward, with him sitting and her standing by his side, but the strength behind his grip told her that he, too, had needed this reassurance.  She let out a slow breath, already feeling more stable just standing next to him instead of on the other side of the door.

“Miss Evans,” Professor McGonagall was saying, with a hint of relief in her voice, when there was a banging at the door.  Without letting go of Remus’ hand, Lily drew her wand, while Remus leapt to his feet, his own grip painfully tight.

“Let us IN, let us see him, fucking stand back—”

Sirius, trailing James and Peter, burst into the room, pushing past McGonagall.  By Lily’s side, Remus swayed with relief.  “Sirius—” he gasped, but before he could say anything, Sirius strode across the room and swept him up into a crushing embrace.  Lily, hand still clutched in Remus’, was pulled slightly sideways with the force of it.

“Remus was supposed to be back from patrol hours ago—we were getting worried… Then we heard the commotion upstairs by the hospital wing… we were so scared something had happened…”  Peter was babbling to McGonagall.  Next to her, Remus and Sirius were exchanging incoherent nonsense.  Lily only heard pieces of it.

James was still frozen by the door.  Where the intensity of Sirius’ and Peter’s relief was overwhelming, it didn’t seem to have reached James.  Instead, he was staring at her with naked horror.  His eyes slowly travelled up her body, fixing desperately on her face.

“The important thing,” McGonagall’s voice broke through the commotion, “is that everyone is fine.  So if we could all…”

Lily took a deep breath.  James was still staring at her.  “We’re okay,” she repeated, not really knowing which of them she was reassuring.  The expression that crossed his face then was too intimate to bear, so she looked down at the floor instead.

“You’re really okay, Moony?”  James asked, he and Peter crossing the room toward them.  “Both of you?”

That was Remus’ voice, next, saying, “Yes, we’re both fine—Sirius, you can let go now, really.  You stupid arse, what good would it do to strangle me…”

And then James and Peter joined the hug, and Lily was dragged sideways into it.  Her left hand was still in Remus’, which was located somewhere up around Sirius’ neck, and her wand was still in her right hand, held stiffly down at her side.  She almost overbalanced, but then a strong arm wrapped around her, pinning her in place.

She didn’t know how long they stood like that, but it felt like a long time.  Long enough for Lily to think about a lot of things that she was hoping not to have to think about yet.  Like how tired she was, and how cold, and how nice it was to lean into something warm and let it take some of her weight.  Like the way that the prickling at the corners of her eyes was getting more and more difficult to ignore.  Like how she thought she felt someone press a kiss to her hair as they pulled her into the group, brief and hard, but that she couldn’t be certain.

McGonagall broke it up.  “I am not unmoved by this display of affection, but might I recommend that it be reconvened in the dormitories?  It is almost four, and you only have an excuse for the first class of the morning tomorrow.”

“Aww, Minnie, we get an excuse note?” said Sirius, stepping back but maintaining, Lily noticed, his grip on Remus’ wrist.  “I knew you cared!”

McGonagall sniffed, ushering them through the door.  “What has been given can be rescinded just as easily.”

It was a subdued group that moved back toward Gryffindor tower.  Peter, yawning, was the fastest, and they soon lost sight of him except in the longer hallways.  Sirius and Remus, leaning into each other and talking quietly, were next.  Lily and James walked the most slowly, trailing behind the others.  Lily was watching Sirius’ hand move through the hair on the nape of Remus’ neck when James spoke.

“I thought it was blood,” he said, quietly.  “On your clothes.  I thought…”

Lily thought of telling him about the red skull, with its horrible dripping snake.  Of telling him that she had thought the same thing, when she saw the girl on the floor.  Of saying that she’d felt completely helpless, looking at all that blood.  She let the silence hang too long for any response to sound completely natural, but in the end all she could manage was, “It’s just paint.  They were painting again.”

They’d arrived at the portrait hole already.  He stopped, turning toward her.  “Evans…” he said, and then fell silent, scrubbing a hand down his face.

Peter stuck his head back out through the portrait hole.  “Did the Fat Lady leave?  Are you guys stuck?”

Whatever James had wanted to say, it was too late now.  She could feel the exhaustion dragging at her limbs, making her hands clumsy as she pulled the portrait hole shut behind her.  It only grew as she mounted the stairs to the girls dorms.  When she reached it, she stood on the threshold, looking around at the other girls.  Mary’s curtains were drawn exactly halfway, as they always were.  Dorcas was flat on her back, rigid like a soldier at attention.  Marlene, tangled in her sheet, with one pillow already on the ground.  They were all fast asleep.

They didn’t stir as Lily stripped off her soiled clothes, leaving them crumpled next to her bed.  She pulled back the curtains on her four-poster and let herself fall onto it, wanting nothing more than to join them in unconsciousness.

~

Lily was dreading her next Defense class.  She wasn’t sure she could present a composed face to Rancourt, for one thing, but for another, with all the upheaval she hadn’t prepared for non-verbal spells at all.  It didn’t take long before her fears were realized: not only was she officially performing below average in the class, but the events of two days ago added a wealth of new comments to his arsenal.

He lingered by her side to address the class on the competitive edge that non-verbal spell casting would provide in duels.  “If a wizard is competent in non-verbal casting, it would be impossible for him to be defeated by one incapable of the same level of magic.  Even facing two opponents, as long as they were both solely reliant on verbal spells, would not change the outcome…”  He looked meaningfully at Lily, who struggled to keep her expression blank.

When he at last released them, Lily was one of the first out the door, ignoring Remus’ worried attempts to catch her eye.

Lily stormed toward the Great Hall, ranting, “Who does he think he is—all those snide little comments on ‘natural aptitude’ and ‘innate talent’?  I can’t take it anymore!”

“Lily, I don’t like him either.  He’s obviously a rubbish teacher and he’s given NO helpful instruction but, Merlin—overreact much?” said Dorcas, hurrying to keep pace with her.

“What?” said Lily, turning to her incredulously.  “Are you hearing the same shite that I am?”

“And you’re taking it too personally!  If you haven’t noticed, I suck at non-verbal too—and I’m standing right next to you the whole time you claim he’s insulting you specifically.  But no, this has to be about you!”

For the first time, Lily regretted not telling her friends about being attacked on patrol and questioned by Rancourt.  Then, at least, they might see how oddly specific some of his “examples” had been this week, and realize they had been directed at her.  But that wasn’t the thing that was bothering her the most.

“You know exactly what this is about,” said Lily coldly.  “And if you don’t, then you’re being stupid.”

“Alright, fuck you then,” said Dorcas.  She stomped off to sit with Marlene, leaving Lily standing by herself in the entrance.  Lily scanned the Gryffindor table, looking for somewhere else to sit.

She had the uncomfortable sensation of being watched.  Looking around, she made eye contact with Snape where he was staring at her from the side of the room.  She looked away quickly, but lunch no longer seemed appealing.  After a moment, Lily turned and marched out of the great hall with renewed force.  She’d prove it to Dorcas if she had to.

~

For all the knowledge and magic contained within its vast purview, the Hogwarts library was not particularly well designed from a research perspective.  Lily, who’d toyed with the idea of becoming a librarian in first year, understood that magical libraries presented unique challenges to archivists and curators.  Books would move by themselves to be closer to or farther from others, following an obscure sense of organization of their own.  Some would remain in place, but change their contents to fit in with their neighbors.  Oyster-like, the library would grow rooms around particularly potent texts, concealing them from view until the room was found and unlocked.  A magical library of this size was enchanting to visit and impossible to control.  Knowing all this, however, did not make looking for a specific name or author any less frustrating.

Giving up on traditional books, Lily headed for the rows of old Daily Prophets near the research desks.  These were younger, and overall less powerfully magic than books, making them also less likely to have gone odd.  While there were no content indexes for newspapers, she could find contributing authors listed at the front of each year’s rack.  She only had to comb ten years back to find something.

Rancourt’s name was listed as a guest author for December 8^th, 1966.  The article in question—a lengthy discussion of his life’s work researching non-verbal magic.  According to Rancourt, the studies he’d conducted on the subject left him with only one conclusion to draw: muggle-born wizards were consistently weaker than purebloods, or even half-bloods, when it came to non-verbal magic.

Lily steeled herself to reread the article more closely, reminding herself of a phrase from Petunia’s Year 10 biology textbook, “correlation does not equal causation.”  Which means it’s not true.  Remember that—he’s a liar.  The writing was just as horrible on a second read, sentences such as “higher proportion of incompetence in this, the most intrinsic magical art,” and “many muggle-borns never learn, while ignorance of non-verbal magic is non-existent in wizards with a higher fraction of magical heritage,” swam in front of her eyes.

“The question we must ask ourselves,” the Rancourt of ten years ago concluded, “is why such a disparity exists, and what that means about magical heritage.”  Well, that certainly was the question—but she didn’t think she and Rancourt would have the same answer to it.

Someone spoke next to Lily, giving her a terrible jolt.  “Oh, there you are, Lily!”  said Mary, pulling out a chair to join her at the table.  “I didn’t see you at lunch—have you been in here all afternoon?”  Mary began to shift the scattered Prophets around to make room for own work, turning them over curiously.  “What class is this for?”

“Look at this—” hissed Lily, handing Mary the page carrying Rancourt’s story.  Mary took in the headline, then thrust it back toward Lily.

“Why would I want to read something like that?” she demanded, voice rising.

“Shhh…” said Lily, then pointed at the author.

Mary frowned at it.  “Isn’t that this year’s Defense professor?”

“Exactly!  Look at the rubbish he’s been writing—how they think he can grade unbiased…”

But Mary was looking hurt.  “Why are you showing me this?  I know it bothers you that I’m not taking Defense, but you don’t need to bring it up all the time.”

“No,” said Lily, startled.  “I mean, I don’t get why you dropped Defense—especially at a time like this—but that’s not why…”

This didn’t calm Mary at all.  “It’s because I’m muggle-born too, isn’t it!  Well, maybe you can get why I don’t enjoy you waving reminders of that stuff in my face—”

“I’m sorry,” said Lily, scathingly.  “I thought you might care that one of our teachers is a bigot and that it explains why he’s been targeting me!”  Madame Pince glared over at their table, and both girls hurried to drop their voices.

“Oh, Lily,” Mary sighed, “I’m sorry he turned out like that.  We were all so hopeful for him, at first, coming from Beauxbatons!”  She wrinkled her brow, thinking hard.  “Maybe it would help if you tone it down a little?”

“What do you mean—tone what down?” asked Lily in genuine confusion.

“Just, all of that,” she gestured at Lily’s open outer robe and the striped t-shirt underneath it.  That only confused Lily more—the shirt had been originally Mary’s before she got too curvy for it, but what that had to do with Rancourt she couldn’t possibly guess.

Mary continued in a more frustrated voice.  “You know what I mean!  Just try to be less obvious about it, especially in his class?”

“Are you joking?” said Lily, still wondering if she could be misunderstanding what Mary meant.  “Mary, I think he knows that I’m muggleborn already.  It’s not like I’ll put my uniform on and my name will suddenly change to Longbottom…”

She narrowed her eyes at Mary, who was looking awkward.  “Oh my god, you’re serious.”  Lily let out an incredulous laugh.  “Next you’ll be telling me it’s my own fault!”

“No!  No, but… you don’t have to be so confrontational about it.  You make yourself a target for these people!  If you kept your head down—"

“What,” said Lily coldly, “like you do?  I’m not ashamed of where I come from.”

Tears welled up in Mary’s big blue eyes, but they had no impact on Lily, who was feeling hard and unyielding.  “How can you say that to me—I’m not ashamed either, Lily.  I’m not!”  Mary began crying in earnest.  “I’m just trying to stay safe.  Not all of us get out of bed looking for a fight!”

“And I do?  Well, I didn’t think it would be you who gave one to me,” said Lily, furious.  She began shoving her notes back into her bag, punctuated by Mary’s wet sniffs.  There didn’t seem to be much left to say.  “I thought you were a Gryffindor,” she added in a savage undertone, before heading for the exit.

Mary, throwing caution to the winds, shrieked after her, “And take off my shirt!”

~

“You’re in for it now, Travers.  I’ve never seen such a bloody cock-up…”

“I’m not a cock-up!”

“Tell that to the Dark Lord—”

“Far be it from me to defend Travers’ incompetence, but it seems very easy to fall short in our efforts to share the Dark Lord’s message.  Am I mistaken, Mulciber, or did you not also have your attempt thwarted on the very first night?”

Mulciber flushed, visible even in the low light of the midnight Slytherin common room.  “That was nothing, compared to this—Travers, if you saw them, they saw you!”

“You were seen?”

“No!” protested Travers, “I said they might have seen me.”

“He’s full of shit, Severus,” said Mulciber in a furious undertone.  “Before you showed up he was busy describing what the girl looked like!”  To Travers, he added, “Ashamed?  You bloody well should be!”

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh.  “If we could return to the point?  If you saw her so clearly, Travers, then who was she?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” admitted Travers.  “She looked familiar, but it really was hard to see.”

The disgust on Snape’s face deepened, and Travers rushed to redeem himself.  “I have a guess though!  Or, well, we have a guess…”  He turned to Mulciber.  “You explain!”

Watching Snape’s face closely, Mulciber took over the explanation.  “Obviously, it was a prefect—two of them, out for a stroll, getting involved in things that aren’t their business?  Most likely one of the patrols was running late and this idiot ran right into it.  Now, as for which prefect it was… whoever she was, she had red hair.”

There was no discernable reaction from Snape, so Mulciber continued.  “But even better, he remembered that the boy called out to her at first—called her Lily.”  He couldn’t keep the triumph out of his voice, but he was denied the satisfaction of seeing Severus flinch at the name of his little mudblood pet.  That was a relief—if Severus was going to get squeamish, they would never be able to pull this off.

“Well?” said Snape coolly, turning to Travers.  “What are you going to do about it?”

“What… what do you mean?”

“If it really was Lily Evans, then you have to find out what she knows,” snapped Mulciber, losing patience.  “If she did see you, and she goes to Dumbledore, and you get kicked out… we’re no good to the Dark Lord outside of Hogwarts—he needs us here, where we can give him access and information!  Do you want to see what he does to servants who fail him?”

Surprisingly, it was Snape who cut him off.  “That’s not all,” he said, looking past them, as if at something far away.  “Lily Evans wasn’t alone that night.  Better find out who her partner was—and deal with him as well.”

Chapter Text

The news of Sirius’ disownment from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black tore through Hogwarts like a stroke of lightning, throwing all other concerns to the side.  Its arrival was oddly delayed—there hadn’t been a whisper of it for the first month of school, despite the event in question apparently taking place at the beginning of the summer.  But once the story broke, it spread through the entire student body within hours.  Versions differed over details of when, why, and how, with one highly embellished take including escape over the rooftops of London on a wild hippogriff.  The gist of the story, however, remained the same: sometime in July Sirius Black, already on shaky ground with the rest of the Blacks due to his sorting and his continued association with less-worthy members of his already inferior house, did something so extreme that it drove his mother to strike him from the family register, in one move promoting Regulus Black from spare to heir and rendering Sirius penniless, homeless, and nameless.

Equally (and inexplicably) unclear was how exactly the story got out in the first place.  Regulus Black, the heir apparent and suspect number one, was unexpectedly reticent; when questioned he would say only that it was a family affair and therefore not an appropriate topic for public discussion.  The Slytherins—even the ones in his year—appeared genuinely stunned by the news, making it hard to imagine that one of them had let it slip.  Even some of the teachers hadn’t seemed to be aware of the change.  The marauders were the only ones who hadn’t been taken by surprise, but they were all so loyal that it didn’t even bear consideration that the story came from one of them.

Mary, finishing up her analysis of possible sources, took a long slurp of her pumpkin juice and sat back, exhausted by her reporting efforts.  The sixth year girls had met up for lunch during their only shared free that week, planning to discuss the possibility of a Gryffindor house party over Halloween weekend, but by the time they made it down to the great hall, Sirius Black had superseded all other topics.

“I wonder if he told on himself,” mused Marlene.

“What, by accident?” said Mary.

“Yeah, or like, maybe he didn’t think it would be that bad.”

“If he did, then he’s an idiot,” said Dorcas, flicking Marlene’s thieving hands back to her own plate.  “Can’t believe he even came down to lunch… I’d rather drop out and live like a muggle than face this crowd.”  Reflexively, they all glanced down the table to where the boys were eating a few seats away.

Eating was putting it generously, Lily thought.  Peter was eating.  James was moving food around on his plate and simultaneously encouraging Sirius to eat.  Remus was sat rigidly, one hand on Sirius’ back and the other clenched around a mug of tea.  And Sirius… Sirius was simmering, wearing the heavy, ugly sort of anger that he specialized in.  Lily had been lucky enough to only glimpse it over the past five years, but the times she’d seen it before were hard to forget.  Mary shivered.

Dorcas looked at Mary sympathetically.  “It’s stupid, but that boy scares the shite out of me sometimes.”

“My mum says that at least half of the Blacks are mad.”  Marlene dropped her voice dramatically as she spoke, drawing the girls in closer to hear.  “She says there’s one in every generation that just… snaps!”  She slapped her hand down on the table for emphasis.  “You know, goes insane.”

“That’s not how insanity works,” muttered Mary.

“Maybe not for muggles,” said Marlene indignantly.  Dorcas hushed her, pulling her head back down into the huddle.  Quieter, she added, “My mum says that it’s a curse…”

“What do you think?” asked Mary, directing her question at Lily, where she was sitting slightly back from the group, still watching Sirius.  “You’ve been awfully quiet…”

The boys were doing more than just managing Sirius’ mood, Lily had noticed.  They also gave off the distinctive air of standing guard.  As she watched, a handful of Slytherin upperclassmen crossed the hall, and the three of them drew almost imperceptibly closer together.  Lily’s friends, following her gaze, watched with concern as the other students approached.

Sirius, stabbing moodily at a potato, appeared not to notice the hush fallen on the Gryffindor table, and didn’t look up until he was spoken to.

“Having a little trouble there, Black?” asked a tall, pale boy Lily thought she recognized as something Parkinson.

“Now, now,” added one of the girls, “I don’t think use of that name is very appropriate anymore.  Since it’s clear the Blacks have decided he isn’t worthy of it.”

“Why don’t you fuck right off, De Vere,” said James, with an air of weary finality.  “You don’t want to talk to him, we don’t want to talk to you, this seems like a problem with an easy solution.”

“Oh, but we do want to talk to him,” came a familiar silky voice.  With a growing sensation of nausea, Lily watched Snape step forward from behind his friends.  “I’ve got lots of questions for the former Black heir.  Mostly on behalf of the current Black heir.  Just to be sure, you know, that my dear friend Reggie is getting everything he’s due…”

At his brother’s name, the tension surrounding Sirius crackled into life.  “You stay away from my brother.”

Snape’s eyes were glittering with malice.  “Feeling protective?  How sweet.  Too bad he’s not your brother anymore, is he? ”

Sirius, his eyes fixed on Snape, began to slowly rise to his feet.  Lily couldn’t see Sirius’ expression, but she could see Snape react to it.  She thought there might have been fear in his eyes, but if there was it was gone in a flash, and he continued goading Sirius.  “Believe you me, an association with me will do more good for Regulus than you ever have.  The best thing you ever did for him was get yourself kicked out, so that he could finally have the life he deserved instead of cleaning up after your pathetic mistakes.”

Someone do something, Lily thought desperately.  Her own hands were clenched so tightly around her cutlery she thought the steel would snap.  She had wild thoughts of throwing them, of standing up and screaming, anything to distract the players in the awful scene in front of her.  She opened her mouth to speak, Sev, coming unbidden to her lips, when James’ hand shot out and clamped firmly down on Sirius’ arm.

“Sirius,” he said, warning in his voice.  Sirius froze halfway out of his seat, his muscles shaking with the effort of keeping still.

“Go on, call your dog to heel, Potter,” sneered Parkinson.  “I’d keep him on a tighter lead from now on, if I were you.”

Into this silence, Peter laughed.

It was a choked-off thing, leaving Lily thinking at first that she must have been mistaken.  But then Remus started laughing in earnest, Peter joining in.  After a moment, a grin spread across James’ face and he and Sirius began to laugh as well.  Sirius flopped back into his seat, James releasing his arm a beat later.

Looking deeply unsettled, Parkinson, Snape, and De Vere headed back to the Slytherin table, muttering among themselves.

At the Gryffindor table, the boys were still laughing.  “How about it, Padfoot?” gasped James, “Shall I buy you a new lead for your birthday?  Any particular color preference?”  On his right, Peter was pink with delight at whatever inside joke they were making.

“Oh studded, definitely,” replied Sirius, “to fit Moony’s punk tastes.”  Next to him Remus snorted, choked, and started laughing again.

“There you go, Marlene,” murmured Dorcas, “looks like Black finally cracked.”

Lily, still watching Sirius closely, could see the effort underneath his smile and felt a rush of recognition replace her sympathy.  She looked away, turning back to her friends again.

“You never answered, Lily,” said Mary.  “Do you think Black’s the one who told?”

“I really couldn’t say…” said Lily, who by now was feeling much less comfortable with the speculation.  “I guess…”  She glanced back at Sirius, who was looking over at the Slytherin table with an unreadable expression.  “I could see how someone might want to get it over with—better than having it hang over you all year, just waiting to explode.”

~

One by one, the girls finished up lunch and split off to their respective classes—Marlene to Care of Magical Creatures, Mary to Divination, Dorcas to Ancient Runes.  Lily, who had nothing until Transfiguration, was left alone at the table, picking at her food and listening with half an ear to the boys arguing at a low volume a few seats away.

“I’m already late for Ancient Runes…”

“Skip it.”  That was James, surprisingly curt.

“Lay off him, Prongs—you know he can’t afford to miss more class.”  Sirius, also, sounded angry.  Or maybe just defensive of Remus.

“Peter?” asked James.

Peter, sounding nervous, replied, “It’s my tutoring with Rancourt in fifteen minutes—I can’t skive off when I’m the only one there!”

“Right.”  James’ voice was rising slightly.  “Right.  So I’ll skive off Care of Magical Creatures and then…”

“The hell you are, Prongs,” snapped Sirius.  “You’re not getting any more goddamn detentions—full moon’s coming up!”

“Guys, be quiet,” hissed Peter, glancing at Remus’ taut expression.

“I don’t need a nanny, Prongs.  I can make it two hours between breast-feedings…”

James didn’t look phased at all by this somewhat aggressive response.  Grinning, he replied, “Yeah, but maybe I can’t—did you ever think of that?”

Sirius didn’t return the smile.  Sighing, James was saying, “Look, at the least will you take the mirror?” when Lily interrupted them.

Lily had stood and started over toward them almost before she could think of a good reason to be.  Which was why, when she did enter the conversation, it was a less graceful segue than she’d hoped.  Dropping her books on the table with a smack, she said loudly, “Help me with the Transfiguration essay, Black.”

Four heads swiveled toward her, blinking owlishly.  Clearing her throat awkwardly, Lily stuck to her guns.  “Black—if you’ve got a free—I would appreciate you helping me out with the Transfiguration paper?  I really need it.”

Sirius’ face, if anything, grew darker, and he glowered across the table at James, whose expression was completely blank.  Without looking away from James, he said, “Do it yourself, Evans.  Isn’t that what you’re always saying is the best way to learn?”

“I said that one time, Sirius, when you were copying off me during our second year potions final!  Ever gonna let that one go?”

“No, no, I don’t think I will,” said Sirius, his face settling into something hard and mean.  “So butt out, Evans, before you regret this little act of charity.”

Too bad for Sirius, then, that she could be stubborn too.  Begging, even crying were all on the table—whatever it took for him to feel like he could just spend the free in the library with her without sacrificing his pride.  It was tempting to roll her eyes at it, but she knew all too well just how important pride could be at a moment like this.  She opened her mouth, ready to kick up a hell of a fuss, when Remus spoke up.

Honestly, Lily was surprised.  What with how he’d been arguing earlier she’d expected James to be the one supporting her plan, but he was silent, looking down at the table in a pathetically transparent pretense of deafness.  Bastard.

It fell to Remus, then, to be the voice of reason.  “Sirius, just go on and give her a hand—Lily’s helped me with potions loads of times.”  Remus and Lily smiled encouragingly at each other.  “She was just telling me yesterday how difficult McGonagall’s N.E.W.T. levels were.”

“Come on, Black—help a girl out?”  She tried fluttering her eyelashes to add some comic effect, but Sirius, his face noticeably softened, was looking at Remus.

“Yeah, alright, Moony.”  Sirius turned to face the rest of them.  “Okay, I will go with Evans to the library and discuss transfiguration for two hours, before we go to Transfiguration class, and discuss it for two more hours.  I will update you, Prongs, you insufferably paranoid grandmother, via mirror if there are any major changes to these plans.  Can we all accept these terms?”

“Great!  Fine.  Sirius… just… that’s good, do that.”  James was looking at Sirius, concern still very clear on his face.

“We’re fucking late!” yelped Peter.  “Prongs, man, come on.”

“Shit… Lads—disperse!”  And he was up and out of the hall without ever looking at her.

“Well?” said Sirius, who was clearly still inclined to be difficult about this.  “Lead on, then.”  He grinned, shark-like.  “I’m your problem now.”

~

As they set off through the mostly empty hallways, Sirius tried to recall if he and Evans had ever been alone before.  He knew her, of course, in the unspecific but unavoidable way that you know someone you’ve shared every class with for the past five years.  As a classmate she was alright.  She was smart, and pretty funny—even if she was a little too self-righteous.  And no matter how many jokes he would continue to make about second year potions finals, he knew that she was always ready and willing to help someone out if they needed it.

Now he remembered—in third year, they’d been partners in Muggle Studies—the most time they’d ever spent together.  It had been surprisingly fun, once she’d gotten over her defensiveness and had started talking to him in earnest.  She was better at explaining things than the professor, and she’d seemed excited to share, showing him her pens, her notebooks, her sister’s old science textbooks.  Apparently she liked to read them in her free time, just to try to keep up with the muggle world, and he’d bragged about all the muggle history books that Mrs. Potter had sent him.

Of course, he’d teased her about taking the class at all, and he remembered that her explanation had been very odd, something about understanding wizarding ignorance.  It seemed like a weird reason to take a class, but as Sirius didn’t want to answer any questions about why he himself had signed up for muggle studies, he’d decided to leave it alone.

He’d never had the chance to find out what she meant.  Only a month into classes, Regulus had discovered he was in Muggle Studies and tattled, his mother had written the school in a towering rage, denying her consent for him to be taught “material of that nature,” and he’d been forced to drop the class.  He and Evans had been supposed to do a project together, but he’d been pulled out before they could present it.  She’d tried to talk to him about it, but he’d been too embarrassed to explain himself and resorted to avoiding her.  She eventually dropped it, but now, years later, he found himself wondering if he should apologize.  It had been a shitty thing to do, leaving her standing up in front of the class alone.

Sirius squinted at the back of Evans’ head where she was striding down the corridor in front of him, ponytail bouncing.  He supposed she was pretty, as girls go.  Prongs certainly thought so.  That was the other way Sirius knew her—the much more complicated way.  You really get to know a girl when you watch your best mate pulled toward her, like a magnet to a cauldron, every time she enters a room.  It was one thing to like Lily Evans, his classmate.  How he felt about Lily Evans, the blissfully unconscious goddess governing Prongs’ lizard brain, was another thing entirely.

She turned right, not left.  “Evans?” he called, “Hello?  Library is that way,”

She looked back at him blankly, still moving the wrong direction.

“Library?  Transfiguration paper?  Any of this ringing any bells?”

“I finished it last night,” she said, stopping in front of a tapestry of Richard the Lionheart.  She bowed her head deliberately, then pulled the tapestry aside to reveal an opening in the wall the size of a small doorway.  “Well?” She shook the fabric at him slightly.  When he stepped forward to hold it, she ducked through the doorway and into a surprisingly large room behind it.  The room had a three stairs descending into a sunken sort of arena in the center.  The meter-wide border between the walls and the lower level was lined with thick cushions, like seating.  Lily hopped down into the pit and began to send lights into the corners of the room, to hover by the ceiling.

“Evans,” he said, growing irritated.  “I don’t know what ideas you seem to have gotten into your pin head, but I don’t need to hide.”

“Maybe I’m the one hiding,” snapped Evans, hands on her hips.  “I need to practice human transfiguration and I’m embarrassingly bad.”

Sirius stayed in the doorway, but he didn’t leave either.  Prongs would have told him he was being stupid, and he should just take what she was offering, but the same attitude coming from Evans rankled.

“Look,” she said, more kindly, “you can do whatever you want, of course.  I’m not your nanny—I’m not Potter.  But I’m also not lying when I say I really could use your help with transfiguration.”

He waited what he thought was long enough to drive home the point that he could leave at any time, and then ducked inside, dropping the tapestry behind him.  “Alright, Evans.  But the only reason we’re not doing this in plain sight in the library is to preserve my reputation as a hopeless delinquent.”

“I’ll never tell,” she vowed.

~

An hour later, Lily flopped back against the cushions.  “Why is this so HARD!”  Staring up at the ceiling she let out a loud, wordless scream.

“I’m flattered, Evans,” chuckled Sirius, from across the room.

Lily flipped him off automatically, but then propped herself up on her elbows to say, “I guess I walked into that one.”

“The problem is,” said Sirius, hopping down into the center of the room, “I think you’re too good at charms for transfiguration.”

“What, so I only get one talent?”

“Noo,” he said thoughtfully, drawing the word out.  “It’s more like… the two have very different mindsets.  Charms is… trickier, I guess.  Transfiguration is more about willpower.  I mean, when you’re trying to figure out a new charm, what’s going through your head?”

Lily sat in silence for a moment, her thoughts going immediately to her work with Mary’s turntable and sound system.  For a minute there she’d thought she might have to construct a new, entirely magical, device for reading information off of a record.  But seeing the turntable just sitting there—unplayed—at the end of Mary’s bed was torture.  How had she cracked it?

“I suppose,” she said dreamily, “that a good charm is… persuasive.  You have to work with the thing to create something you both want it to be, or to get the result you both want.  After all, a record wants to be played—it just needs a little help.”

“Exactly—did you say record? You got it to work?”  His face had lit up like a little kid’s, and she found herself grinning back before she had time to think about how weird it was that they were getting along.  She opened her mouth, ready to explain, when—

“No!”  Sirius cut her off.  “No, we have to focus.  You’re almost getting it.  But you’ll show me the turntable later, right?”  He looked hopeful as a puppy under the dining table.

“Of course!” Lily sat up straight, trying to convey a focused and studious energy.  “So… what should I be trying to do with transfiguration?”

He slipped back into lecture mode immediately.  She wondered if he even knew he had a lecturer mode—he usually seemed so dedicated to his class clownery.  It was… nice, working with him.  When she’d come up with the transfiguration study plan, she hadn’t really thought it through, other than that he consistently performed much better than her in precisely one class.  But now, watching him, she thought that maybe it was more than just talent—that it was honed skill as well.

“So, for charms, you’re trying to work with the thing you’re enchanting to get it to behave in the way you want.  In transfiguration, you have to impose your will on it—force it into the shape you want.  It’s a matter of being more certain that it’s really a rabbit, than the mouse is certain that it’s a mouse.  You have to come in and override it.”

“But—I can’t do that—that’s rude!” Lily burst out.  There was silence for a moment, while her words registered, and then they both exploded into laughter.

“That’s!  Rude!” Sirius was howling, “Merlin, Evans!  What—”

“I don’t knoooow, I don’t know!”  Lily was flat on her back again, helpless with giggles.  “I really sound completely mental but I just—”

“No, no, this is good!  This is progress!”  Sirius, wiping tears from his eyes, walked over toward her and attempted to pull her up into a standing position.  “Work with me here, Evans, you’re not as light as you look…”

With an effort, Lily balanced herself on her own two feet.  She had the giggles under control for now, but the moment Sirius came toward her with a stern look on his face, she lost it again.

“Men—sorry—women!  Get it together!  That’s an order!”  He put his hands on her shoulders and looked sternly into her eyes.  “This entire operation depends on it!  Lieutenant Evans, you’re just going to have to be rude!”

Several incoherent minutes later, they’d both calmed down enough to stand facing each other, wands out.  “Okay,” said Sirius, “I see now that our mistake was in not finding a spell you could really get some willpower behind.  Which is why you’re going to be transfiguring me now, not just my watch.”

“Really?  Isn’t human transfiguration harder, though?”

“Not really—it’s just a lot more dangerous, obviously, but…” Sirius gave a dismissive little wave, as though the mere concept of avoiding danger was beneath him.

“So no pressure, huh?”  Lily readied her wand.

“Now: focus all of your energy on me—imagine that you’re trying to get some point into James’ thick head—”

“Maybe if he ever talked to me,” Lily scoffed.  There was an awkward pause.  “Sorry.  I shouldn’t have—”

“Or just think of me, that’s fine too,” continued Sirius, loudly.  “Ready, Evans?  Think about how much I piss you off, and make my face purple.  It deserves to be purple.  Really hit me!”

And Lily did.

Once she’d finished whooping, Sirius made her do it again.  And again.  It took another four or five successful attempts before he pronounced it progress.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to do the same thing on a watch, though,” she said as she siphoned the latest color change from Sirius’ skin.  “I just don’t think I want to bully inanimate objects bad enough.”

“Nah, you’ll get it.  It’s easier once you have some experience with the mindset.  It helps you visualize, sort of, what the shape of the spell should feel like…  Hang on, Evans—you are fixing it, right?  You took a vow of secrecy!  That includes removing all non-human colors from my perfect skin!”

~

On the way to Transfiguration they got distracted, first by her explanation of her work with the record player and what she had left to do, and then by an involved discussion of her attempts to record and play muggle movies.

“I started with a simple recording charm—actually a modified note-taking charm—but the problem was adding visual recording to that.  I spent a lot of time looking into the potions used to develop wizard camera film, but that was a bust, since you really can’t take a camera into a muggle theater without pissing people off.  My breakthrough was realizing that you could extract the “memory” from the wand using priori incantatum…”

“You used WHAT?”

“Yeah, I know!  Priori incantatum is such a funny spell—it actually brings back way more than just the last spells you used, and that is the key.”

“I’ve never actually seen it used—what does it bring back, then?”

“It brings back a version of the thing the spell was cast on.  I know!  It’s crazy!”

“Evans, that’s insane… Most people can’t even perform a charm at that level!  Besides, you’d need at least two wands just to watch—the wand that recorded, as well as another wand to cast the spell…”

“Not to mention, that spell would get really inconvenient if the recording of the movie wasn’t the last, or close to the last, spell you cast!  So the next step was trying to find a place to store the echo once it was extracted.  I had thought of a potion, kind of like a pensive?  I was working on it with… I was working on it all last year.  I finally got something stable over the summer!”

“You mean you actually did it?  Evans, you mad bastard—you might actually be a genius!”

“You’re just saying that because you want to watch a movie with it.”

“I absolutely do want to watch a movie with it.  I would do anything—Evans, I am begging you.  I am on my knees in this corridor!  Let me watch a movie!”

“Get up—we’re going to be late!  Get up, you idiot!”

“Say it.  Say we can watch a movie!”

“Of course we can watch a movie!  I’m warning you though, we had to use Marlene’s brother to record them, since he’s of age.  So all I’ve got is Carrie and Dog Day Afternoon.  Also, they’re all in black and white for some reason?”

Lily was just saying, “you know, I think you would really like Dog Day Afternoon…” when she realized how empty the corridors were.  The two of them broke into a run, shouting over whose fault it would be when they got detention.

They burst breathlessly into the room just as the door was closing.

“Minnie, baby, please—technically I think we weren’t even late!”

“Hm,” sniffed Professor McGonagall.  Her mouth was stern, but her eyes betrayed a distinct softness as she looked at Sirius’ laughing face.  “If you sit down quickly, perhaps you will be on time, and will avoid being penalized.  But if you call me ‘Minnie’ one more time, I can guarantee at least two detentions.”

While Lily and Sirius walked as quietly as possible toward the back of the class, Professor McGonagall began handing out the day’s materials.  As they approached James and Peter, Lily felt her good mood slide off of her like water.  James’ head had snapped up when the two of them entered the room, his relief obvious.  Now, his face was controlled—an unpleasant look on someone ordinarily so expressive.  It had to be taking considerable effort for him to appear so blank.

As Sirius slid into the seat next to Peter and exchanged a series of elaborate handshakes, James spoke.  “Glad you made it, mate.”

Sirius leaned around Peter to grip the back of James’ neck and give him a shake.  “Good to see you too, Prongs.”

Lily didn’t know why she was lingering—or, she knew exactly why, she just didn’t like the reason.  She put one hand on James’ desk to lean across it and speak to Sirius.  “Thanks for the help—I’ll see you later.”

“Movie night, right?” Sirius’ voice dropped in response to McGonagall’s pointed cough.  “You promised, Evans.”

Lily went to her seat next to Dorcas smiling, but the feeling didn’t last.  If she and Sirius hadn’t practiced beforehand, she would have made an absolute fool of herself.  Damn James Potter.  She hadn’t looked at him all class, but she still left feeling as though he’d been shouting in her ear, drowning out McGonagall’s advice.  She couldn’t catch him staring, but she could feel his eyes on her back following her out of the classroom.  She shook them off.  What with extended prefect rounds that evening, the last thing she needed was to waste more time thinking about James Potter.

~

Prefect rounds were always difficult, but they were more difficult when she was partnered with Narcissa Black.  Black had always been standoffish, icily rebuffing Lily’s attempts at pleasant small talk and forcing them to make their rounds in an uncomfortable silence, but ever since she and Remus had been attacked, it felt worse.  Lily couldn’t picture the pristinely beautiful girl out painting propaganda on walls herself, but she couldn’t help but wonder what Black did or didn’t know about what the rest of her house was up to.  If she knew, did she support it, the way it was rumored her family did?  Or was she as disdainfully removed from such activities as she was from the routine prefect responsibilities?  (Lily wondered, as she filled out her third point-deduction form for that evening, if Black expected all of her partners to do the paperwork, or if that was a task reserved for Lily alone).

Whether or not Black was part of the group that had attacked Lily wasn’t even her main concern.  When small noises set her heart racing, or when flickering torchlight made her jump and clutch her wand, Lily had comforted herself with the memory of how Remus had thrown himself into the hallway to stand with her, supporting her and bolstering her defense.  There was none of this reassurance in Black’s presence.  If anything, she acted as though she couldn’t wait to abandon Lily on her knees in a besieged corridor.

Lily hated to admit it, but Black’s poise and condescension intimidated her a little, which in turn pissed her off a lot.  They were both only teenagers, after all, attending the same school and performing the same role within that school—Lily didn’t know where Black got her delusions of superiority, but it made her want to needle her.  She’d restrained herself for the first few patrols, knowing how much easier things would be if they could develop even the most distantly civil rapport, but this time she gave into the impulse.  She wore her tightest bellbottoms, and a stupid tie-dye t-shirt she’d stolen from one of Marlene’s brothers.  She’d considered wearing a pair of Mary’s platforms, but ultimately decided that being able to run if she needed to was more important than horrifying her partner.

She was rewarded by a full-body shudder as Narcissa Black saw Lily round the corner and approached her, but several hours into the night, even that satisfaction was wearing thin.  Conversation it would have to be.

“So…” said Lily into the silence.  “Doing anything fun for break?”

Unexpectedly, Black actually answered her, either because being spoken to after so long had caught her by surprise or because she wasn’t capable of ignoring a direct question.  “I’m visiting my oldest sister.”

“That sounds nice,” said Lily tentatively, holding her breath to see if Black would speak again.  “Where does she live?”

“She had been traveling on the Continent—her husband was giving talks in France and Italy and the Balkans.”

“That sounds like an exciting trip!  Is he a professor then?” said Lily innocently.

A small smile curved the corner of Black’s mouth.  “No… more like an activist.  But I won’t be joining them abroad.  They’ve been gone almost two years, but they recently returned to London.  So they invited the cousins to visit their new house so that we can all spend some time together, as a family.”

“Your cousins?” said Lily, and then, unthinkingly, it slipped out.  “Oh, Sirius.”

Black’s nostrils went white, while Lily cursed herself for ruining the first conversation they’d ever had.  While it hadn’t been friendly, it hadn’t been hostile either.  No longer—Black spoke again in a controlled voice that didn’t quite disguise her anger.  “Not Sirius.  As I’m sure you well know, Sirius is no longer one of my cousins.”

Lily knew better than to respond, but in her anger on Sirius’ behalf, she forgot herself.  “What, so you’re all just going to act as if he never existed?  He’s your family!  Don’t you care—”

Now Black was furious, her breaths coming quickly as she whirled on Lily.  “Don’t speak about things you don’t understand—it’s him who abandoned us!  He cares nothing for his family, or for our values.  He’d rather roll around in the dirt with filth than fulfill his responsibilities as the heir to the Black legacy, and if he doesn’t like where it’s gotten him, then that’s his own fault.”

There it is, thought Lily with a sick sort of satisfaction.  That’s who you are.

Black pulled herself back under control, retreating into her customary haughtiness, and looked at Lily in disgust.  “You could never understand.”

“Good,” said Lily.  “I hope I never do.”

With no response to give, Black turned her back and continued down their route, residual anger robbing her of her usual grace.

So much for conversation, then, thought Lily, resigning herself to another hour of icy silence.

Chapter Text

When she woke up Halloween weekend, Lily could already tell that it was going to be a bad day.  Honestly, she’d known it last night, when she’d laid awake with her wand in her hand, listening to the seconds tick by on the clock.  The morning, however, confirmed the diagnosis.  A Bad Day all around.

At breakfast, Lily accepted the now familiar sensation of being watched, knowing as she did whose eyes were on her.  She ignored Snape, hovering by the entrance, and focused instead on the news.  It was not a much more enjoyable place to focus.  Judging by the headlines, the news that morning was bland enough—a wizarding celebrity she’d never heard of was getting married, and some famous pureblood was back from abroad—but upon closer inspection there were several suspicious muggle deaths that the Prophet would have no reason (other than wizard involvement) to report on.  Lily sighed, then swapped across the table for Alice’s muggle paper.

“We’re always so behind,” said Lily, spraying toast crumbs across the table in her agitation.  She shook the paper at Alice, “This thing’s from a week ago at least!”

“Be grateful we get it at all,” said Alice, without raising her head from the Prophet—this was not an unfamiliar exchange.  “The Hogsmeade post office is making it more and more difficult to forward muggle post.  If they keep it up we’ll have to get it sent to Inverness first and then forwarded via owl to Hogsmeade.”

Lily bent back over the paper.  The muggle news, like the wizarding news, looked grim.

Alice peered over the top of the Prophet to nod at the story Lily was reading.  “Do you think Ó Dálaigh’s really going to let them drive him out over this?  Maybe that bill wasn’t unconstitutional, but it should be.”

Frank, who had stopped by to steal some of Lily’s toast and make disgustingly adoring faces across the table at Alice, asked, “You talking the Emergency Powers Bill?”

“I have to say,” said Alice, “I don’t like the idea of that.  If the police can arrest anyone and keep them for a whole week without charges—it’s frightening to imagine what they could do to someone in that time.”

Frank’s usually cheerful face grew serious.  “I’ll tell you guys something that we’re all not supposed to know—they’re trying to get something similar past the Wizengamot.”

“What?” Alice frantically started turning pages of the Prophet, looking for the story.

“It won’t be in there,” said Frank.  “They’re keeping it very hush-hush because they don’t think it’s going to be popular yet.  I heard from Dad—he and Mum and Bones and a handful of others managed to block it this time, but they’re definitely going to try again.”

There was silence as they all digested this pronouncement.  Frank looked down at the article Lily was still reading.  “Think he’s gonna resign?”

Lily scoffed, shoving the paper back across the table.  “I’ll do you one better—I’d bet he’s already resigned, and we won’t find out until next week.*”

Alice made a face at her.  “Lily, darling, if only we could all focus on the bright side as you do.”

Lily, eying the rest of her mail with distaste, made no effort to shake off her bad mood.  Sitting on top of the pile was a cream-colored envelope with an elaborate silver script addressing it to Ms. Lily Evans.  She had her suspicions about who it was from, but instead of opening it she crammed it into her pocket.

~

Lily skipped Hogsmeade that day, claiming she had too much work to catch up on.  Instead of catching up on that work, of course, she sat on her bunk with the blinds drawn, tinkering with Mary’s record player.  While it was no ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’ situation, it couldn’t be denied that there were still a few kinks to be worked out.  The modified turntable seemed to have gotten the idea that it should be reading the records and playing music off of them, but it tended to select songs at random.  More suspiciously, upon close observation the songs that were playing didn’t necessarily correspond to the part of the record under the needle.

Despite the lack of distractions offered by the totally empty Gryffindor tower, she wasn’t making much headway on her pet project.  At least it stuck to songs off of the same record currently playing, she thought, which meant she could safely claim to have beaten James this round.  But it couldn’t be relied on to move through every song on a record in order—something crucial to the listening experience.

Finally, fed up with the turntable’s pointed looping of ‘I Am A Rock,’ she’d caved, removing Sounds of Silence and replacing it with Electric Ladyland.  She fixed the player with a stern look until she heard the distant drums and distorted voices that opened Jimi Hendrix’ last album.  Sometimes, these magical/technology hybrids just needed to be properly trained, like a pet, before they performed correctly.

Her hunger was starting to get the better of her, but she was reluctant to go down to the great hall for lunch—seeing even the few students who weren’t out enjoying the Hogsmeade weekend or the nice weather felt beyond her at the moment.  Inside the closed hangings of her four-poster, Lily was sweating.  In a concession to the temperature, she opened the blinds and glared out at the sunshine streaming in through the tower windows.  For late October, it was staggeringly hot out, this purgatory of a summer dragging on without an end in sight.**  Behind her, the turntable cut the first rendition of ‘Voodoo Chile’ short, jumping straight into ‘Long Hot Summer Night.’*

“Your editorializing is not appreciated,” Lily said to it, sweeping out of the tower with dignity.†

~

On the way to the kitchens she pulled the letter out of her pocket again.  It was crumpled slightly from her sitting on the bed, which gave her a momentary satisfaction.  Even that vanished, however, when she opened it and read its contents.

Just as she had figured, it was Petunia’s official wedding invitation—Vernon spelled correctly this time, Lily was disappointed to see.  There was no note included, although she supposed she didn’t really expect one.  Flipping it over, she saw that she had been offered the option of bringing a plus one.  And there was the personal note: next to the plus one box on the RSVP card in Petunia’s perfect handwriting was the condition ‘RESPECTABLE!!!’ underlined several times.  As Lily rounded the corner, however, she saw something that put Petunia’s marriage straight out of her mind.

In the middle of the corridor was Sirius Black, facing off against two Slytherin seventh years.  She took in the situation in an instant—his bloodied face, his wand on the floor, his defensive stance—and drew her wand.  She must have made some noise, because the taller of the Slytherins made to turn around, taking his eyes off of Sirius.  Seizing his moment, Sirius struck—his fist connecting with a horrible cracking noise.  As the shorter boy fell back, clutching his face, his friend seized Sirius’ arm and pointed his wand.

“Relashio!” shouted Lily, and all three boys were flung apart, the taller one flexing his hand as if it burned.

“Don’t try it,” she warned, anticipating them raising their wands.  “You won’t enjoy what happens if you do.”

Sirius—she spared him a single glance—was sat panting on the floor, fists still clenched.

“Right,” Lily said, imbuing her voice with as much authority as she had at her disposal.  “Now that this is a fair fight, why don’t you two head back to your dormitories.  Or go to Hogsmeade!  Really, I don’t care what you do, as long as you fuck off.”

When they didn’t immediately move, she raised her voice slightly.  “Or, I could give everyone here detention—I’m sure we’ve all got things we’d rather do than gut slugs for five hours tonight…”

Meanwhile, Sirius had reclaimed his wand, and was looking startlingly deadly for someone still slumped on the ground.  Faced with two armed opponents, the Slytherins elected to retreat down the corridor, looking as casual as if nothing at all had happened.

As they rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, Lily let herself sag against the way, a rush of cold replacing the adrenaline that had held her up.  She looked down in relief at where Sirius was propped up next to her, only to realize he was furious.

“What the fuck was that, Evans?”

“I’m sorry?  Surely you mean, ‘Thank you, Evans, I was in way over my head?’”

He scowled, “I was fine!  And it’s not like you did shit anyway—you’re really just going to let them walk away like nothing?”

Lily stared at him.  “What did you expect me to do?  Kill them?”

Sirius scoffed, looking away, back down the corridor.  She decided to interpret the scoff as ‘you’re right, but I don’t want to admit it.’  “If we threw a bunch of spells at them, they’d just come back madder later—and possibly when the odds aren’t in our favor anymore.  We live with these people, you know.”

Sirius didn’t seem convinced, but his shoulders looked a little less tense than before.  “You look like shit, Black,” she said, poking him with her toe.  “Can you even stand up?”

“What’ll you give me if I can?” he said, with an attempt at his usual humor.

Lily took one of his arms, and she and the corridor wall worked together to get Sirius into an upright position.  “That’s still bleeding,” she said, gesturing at a cut above his eye.  “Let me take you to the hospital wing…”

“No,” he snapped, his hand tightening painfully on her shoulder.  “No hospital wing—it’ll be fine in a minute.”  He bent forward, breathing deeply.  “Just give me a minute, Evans, and then we can forget we ever saw these sides of each other.”  He gave her a charming grin, most likely intended to convey how completely fine he was, but the effect was somewhat marred by the blood on his teeth.

Lily sighed.  “Alright, Black, but keep in mind that I was strongly opposed to this course of action.”  As she spoke, she pulled his arm more fully over her shoulder and began moving toward the massive painting of a fruit basket hanging on the wall.  For a moment it seemed as though Sirius might protest again, but he swallowed it, obligingly tickling the pear for her so that they could open the door to the kitchens.

~

A few minutes later they were sitting at a small round table with a bowl of hot water and several towels provided by the anxious house elves.  The elves were understandably concerned about blood in their pristine kitchen, but their instincts toward hospitality were even stronger.  They’d compromised by setting Lily and Sirius firmly out of the way, scolding them for making a mess and instructing them to clean themselves up immediately, but nevertheless bringing the first of what would likely be several rounds of fish and chips to the table.

Lily managed to fix his nose easily enough with episkey, but the gash above his eye was giving her trouble.  “This one seems like a curse—and not one I’m familiar with.  Are you sure…”

Focused on his face as she was, the way it tightened at the whisper of the suggestion of going to the hospital wing was impossible to miss.  His lowered eyes and rigid expression inspired a surge of tenderness—something she’d never felt in relation to Sirius Black before.  “Okay,” she said.  “Okay.  I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll do my best…”

It was as if that guarded expression had never been there.  “And I’m expecting the best, Evans.  I don’t let just anyone mess around with my perfect skin,” he said, shaking back his hair and grinning at her.

“Your skin really is perfect,” she commented, beginning to transfigure chips into her best approximation of muggle butterfly bandages.  “What’s your secret, then?  Come on, Black—spill!”

“Why, Evans,”  he said, drawing himself up as tall as possible.  “It is simply good breeding.  You see, in the Black family, we execute any member weak enough to develop bad skin.  We haven’t had a zit in four generations!  You have to stamp that sort of nonsense out, or who knows where it might lead.”

Lily was choking with laughter.  “Oh lord—I do hope you’re joking, or I’ve just been wildly insensitive.”

“You’re not sure if I’m joking?” said Sirius, incredulously.

“You never know with these old pureblood families,” said Lily, waving her hand airily.  “They’re not known for making solid decisions.”  She looked back at the cut, frowning.  “If I can’t fix it though… how do you feel about a dashing scar?”

“And break the family tradition?  Excellent.”

She and Sirius grinned at each other in perfect understanding.

~

With Sirius’ wound closed (for now) with muggle-style bandaging, the two of them turned to the baskets of fish and chips with enthusiasm.  As they were working their way through their third, Sirius’ eyes fell on the crumpled paper Evans had dropped on the table.

“What’s that, then?”

“What’s what?” said Evans, without looking up from the engrossing task of picking up the last grains of salt still sticking to the greasy liner.  She had a streak of shiny grease on her cheek also, but Sirius decided not to tell her.

Sirius pointed at the card with a chip, a little more forcefully than was wise.  As he could probably have anticipated, a dollop of sauce fell off of the end of the chip and onto the shiny paper.  Evans stared at the card and the sauce for a moment without saying anything.  He felt kind of bad at first, but when Evans made no move to wipe it off he started to wonder if there was something more to this than he’d initially thought.

Eventually she sighed, slumping forward on the table and shoving the card toward him.  Sirius picked it up, flicking the sauce off of it with a fastidious gesture, and began to read.  So it was a wedding, then.

“Who’s getting hitched?”

Evans propped her chin up on her folded arms.  She looked sulky, and much younger than she had when she’d hauled him in here.  “My sister,” she admitted.

Sirius thought about this.  He seemed to recall that Evans and her sister didn’t really get on.  He’d seen her at Kings Cross once or twice, and she’d seemed like a singularly cheerless person.  “I see… And can I take it you’re not thrilled about that?”

Evans groaned, burying her face in her arms again.  “Ugh!  Yeah, sure.  ‘Not thrilled’ pretty much sums things up.”

Looking at her, Sirius felt a stirring of sympathy.  Or at least, he felt an impulse to try to cheer her up—an impulse he chose not to examine for now.  There would be plenty of time to ask himself why he cared about Evans’ family problems when he was dead!

“Buck up, Evans,” he tried.  “At the very least there should be some free booze!”  This feeble attempt at a joke didn’t seem to have done the trick—her face remained hidden.  He had the horrifying thought that she might be crying, and that he simply was not equipped to handle.

“Do you not like the guy?” he asked awkwardly, flipping the card over.  “Oh, look here—it says you get a plus one!  Well that’s the trick,” he said, seeing a new angle.  “We’ll find you someone absolutely smashing—someone who will drive your sister wild with jealousy—really show everyone up.  I’m sure I know a fellow who will suit… Now let’s see…”

He was rambling, but it seemed to be working at last.  Lily had raised her head (eyes thankfully dry) and even looked like she might smile as Sirius began to run through his list of eligible wizard bachelors.  He had the vague intention of throwing Prongs into the mix and seeing how she’d react, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea.  Instead of laughing, like he’d been going for, she grew thoughtful, an assessing look on her face that didn’t bode well for him.

~

The thing about Sirius, Lily thought, was that he really was shockingly good-looking.  He had the kind of face you might imagine stopping traffic, or launching ships, or any other sort of soppy descriptor found in melodramatic romances.  Of course, after over five years of living with him, it had ceased to be amazing and was simply a fact about him, like his posh accent or his pine kernel allergy.  She’d stopped noticing his looks entirely, except on rare occasions.  Watching him cast around in a panic (the panic of all teenage boys when threatened by the possibility of a girl crying) for a stupid way to make her laugh, after eating more than his fair share of chips, was apparently that rare occasion.

The looks were obvious, but the other important thing about Sirius was his peerless ability to be inordinately classy and incredibly rude, sometimes at the same time.  Granted, she’d never thought highly of this ability before, but it was starting to develop an undeniable appeal.

Some of her thought process must have shown on her face, because Sirius launched with renewed vigor into a description of a distant cousin, famous for his party tricks with soup and sure to be a runaway success as her date to her sister’s wedding.  Before she could think better of it, she opened her mouth and said, “You do it then.”

“What?” he said, blinking at her.

“Be my date to the wedding.”

He stared at her in shock.  She almost felt bad for him, watching him struggle to formulate an appropriate response.

“Your idea’s not bad,” she shrugged, “but I think we’re missing the obvious candidate for winding my sister up.”

“That won’t do,” he said, shaking the invitation at her.  “It says right here that we’re looking for a respectable bloke.”

 “Yeah,” said Lily, pointedly.  Please understand.  “Exactly.”

He must have understood, because his wicked grin was back.  “Well, if you insist.  I suppose I can shift some things around in my packed schedule.”

“It’s in June,” she said.

“I got it, Evans.  I’ll be there.”

~

Twenty minutes (and two large slices of chocolate cake) later, and Sirius was barking with laughter over Evans’ attempts to describe Petunia’s fiancé.  Initially, she’d been trying to explain why she hated him so much.  Although Sirius had no grounds to judge her from, she seemed to think that she needed to at least try to justify her impulsive decision to invite a force of chaos to sabotage her sister’s wedding.  They’d gotten derailed somewhat along the way, first by Sirius referring to Vernon as Vermin Dursley.  A relatively weak pun, as rude nicknames go, but Evans shrieked with laughter and detoured into the story of the invitation misprints.  The next hold up was caused by the need to explain to Sirius what drills were.  He found the concept of power tools fascinating, and had been willing to give Vernon Dursley the benefit of the doubt simply due to his association with them.  But upon learning that Dursley didn’t use the drills, only called stores to convince them to buy drills, Sirius’ allegiances settled firmly on Evans’ side of things.

“It’s just,” said Evans, her voice becoming more serious, “I know she loves him, but I think he brings out the worst in her.  Like, sometimes I think that he’s made out of all the worst parts of her, turned up to eleven, and I’m worried the other things are going to get left behind.”

That rang uncomfortably true.  He thought of Regulus, the day he was sorted.  The sorting hat had been far too big for him—Regulus had always been small for his age.  He never was able to forget the image of Regulus’ skinny shoulders as he walked away and sat down at the Slytherin table, without a glance in his direction.  Had it already been too late?

Across the table, Evans was looking sad again, which he absolutely did not want.  Sirius rose to the occasion, as he always did.  “Okay, Evans,” he said brightly.  “Sounds like we have an awful lot of planning to do… How best can I ensure that I am the model of respectability at this wedding of Vermin’s?”

Thankfully, Evans smiled.  “Honestly, it might be easier than you think.  What Petunia considers ‘respectable’ is probably the opposite of what wizards do…”

He let the insult implicit in that statement slide, choosing to focus on the issue at hand.  “Well for one thing,” he said, “I’m going to need some muggle clothes.”

She frowned.  “I thought you had some—what were you wearing at the station then?”

He waved his hand.  “Oh, those?  Borrowed ‘em from Prongs.  But borrowed would never do for such an important event as this wedding will be!”

“Are you asking for my help buying clothes?”

“My dear, I am entirely at your disposal!  You are the bridesmaid, after all.  I’ll just wear whatever you tell me too—and wear it beautifully, I might add.”

“Sure,” she said thoughtfully.  “We could probably get something for you in Inverness—Mary and I go shopping there sometimes.”

“How on earth are you two getting to Inverness?”  He leaned forward eagerly.  “Can you apparate?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, batting him away.  “No, there’s a portkey that runs back and forth between Hogsmeade and Inverness a couple times a day—like a shuttle.  Brings tourists and stuff.  Obviously students aren’t supposed to use it, but it’s not like they really check… What are you doing?”

Sirius had sprung to his feet.  “What do you mean, what am I doing?  We’re doing—we’re going to Inverness, I thought.”

“Now?”

“When else?”

She looked up at him, hesitating, but it didn’t take long for her to get swept up in his enthusiasm.   Sirius was giddy with excitement.  Going to a muggle city, buying muggle clothes, going to a muggle wedding…  Maybe Prongs was right—maybe being disowned would be the best thing that ever happened to him.  Evans was moving far too slowly for his tastes, so he took it upon himself to pull her up from her chair and out of the kitchens.

~

Even after they’d already made it onto the bus that would bring them from the portkey stop into the city, Lily still couldn’t quite believe what she was doing.  Although, she thought, as she watched Sirius press his face up against the dirty bus window, it was unlikely she would imagine anything quite so uncanny as Sirius Black loose in a muggle town.

Sirius bounced down the steps of the bus before it had completely stopped and stared openly around.  His obvious excitement was infectious—she felt almost giddy with it.  She tried to remind herself that the impulsive trip had great potential to backfire, but looking at his delighted face made a bad ending hard to believe in.  Had it really been so long since she’d done something like this?  Something fun?

Grinning at Sirius, Lily followed him off the bus and caught him at the corner before he stepped out onto the street.  “Watch yourself, Black,” she said, not unkindly, as a car came rumbling by them.  Sirius didn’t reply, too busy gawking, his mouth hanging open like a child.

She looked him up and down with a critical eye.  “First order of business: get you something to wear.  You look like a madman in that thing!”  Sirius, robes flapping, trailed obediently along in her wake, looking for all the world like her pet lunatic.

As they dug through the racks at one of the charity shops she liked, Lily let herself really enjoy the novel experience of bossing Sirius around.  He seemed to trust her judgment on the clothes entirely, letting her shove item after item into his hands and send him to the back to struggle into them.  He was clearly getting a kick out of the reactions of the other customers, coming out to model in more and more dramatic poses.  As he draped himself over the rack in sequined bellbottoms or purple jumpsuits, Lily tried and fail to muffle her laughter.  By the time they were ready to pay they had gained the eyes—both disapproving and flirtatious—of everyone else in the shop.

Sirius had to hop up onto the counter for the cashier (who refused to step out from behind the register) to read and remove the price tags still attached to his jeans, t-shirt, and bomber jacket.  Occupied with opening and closing the zippers on his coat, he was blithely unaware of the suspicious looks the older woman was sending them.  As she packaged the rest of their purchases, Sirius handed her the robes he had been wearing to add to the bag.  His bandaged face and long hair had been bad enough, but the robes seemed to be the last straw, and her looks turned from wary to horrified.

“He’s just escaped from a cult,” said Lily conspiratorially, but still loud enough to be heard by the rest of the shop.  The woman let out a gratifying gasp in response, gingerly handing Sirius his bags as though she expected him to lunge at her over the counter at any moment.

“Who’s in a cult?” asked Sirius innocently, following her out the door.

~

Their next stop, a record shop, was more Sirius’ speed.  He could admit to being a little lost on the clothes, willing enough to accept whatever Evans had picked out (hoping she wasn’t vindictive enough to lead him astray).  But music?  He loved music.  Every Christmas and birthday, since first year, Remus would buy them all records—and Remus always knew what he would like.  Those records were treasured, entrusted to Prongs’ care over the summer to protect them from his mother, but missed every moment he was separated from them.

Sirius considered himself generally fluent in muggle music—he had multiple records by David Bowie, Queen (those were technically Prongs’), The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, and one by the Who—but it was rapidly dawning on him that he’d barely scratched the surface.  He’d been to the record store in the muggle village near Potter Manor, of course, but two shelves on the wall of the local chippy had nothing on the paradise that Lily Evans had opened to him today.  Not only was the entire store devoted to music, with magazines, posters, and more records than he’d ever seen in his life, but there was a player in the back where you could listen to things before you bought them.  And Evans seemed to know all of it.  This was a rare opportunity.  He knew he couldn’t waste it, but the wealth of options available to him was overwhelming, and it was impossible to know where to begin.

He and Evans wandered around the narrow aisles meditatively, flipping through the stacks and occasionally holding a particularly weird album cover up to show the other.  Together they set off on a hunt for a Ziggy Stardust to replace the one that James had so heartlessly sacrificed to the ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’ cause.

“I almost feel bad making fun of him about it,” said Evans, picking along a shelf of American bands.  “God knows that ours has been driving me crazy for weeks!”

“What’s wrong with it?” Sirius asked, idly.  He held up a black and yellow album with a heavily made up man on the front for Evans’ approval.

“Ooh, Lou Reed?  Yeah, you want that one for sure.”  Sirius carefully added it to the growing pile in his hands while Evans continued to rant about Mary’s turntable, saying, “The rubbish thing plays whatever song it wants, and it likes to choose ones that make it clear it’s been listening to your conversation… I promised Mary it would be ready for the Halloween party tonight, and who knows what it’s going to decide to do if there’s a whole lot of people around, distracting it.”

“Listen,” said Sirius, dropping his voice, “is it really okay to be talking like this in front of muggles?  I mean, won’t they wonder…”

“Eh,” Evans dismissed his concerns, but spoke quieter herself.  “Honestly, they’ll probably just think we’re high.  Which would be its own problem in some places but not,” she emphasized, “in a record shop.”

“Get that one,” she said at her normal volume, leaning over him to pick Are You Experienced out of the handful of Hendrix albums he was examining.  “It’s probably his most consistent album, and then when you really love him—because you’ll really love him—you can borrow the others from me.”

“It’s weird that your record player’s being so temperamental,” commented Sirius.  “Magical objects don’t usually start getting a personality for years and years.”

“Actually, that’s sort of my theory.  I think that the reason wizards are so antiquated when it comes to technology is that the higher-tech something is, the stronger and more rapidly its personality develops.  So it’s always a risk to introduce new technology into such a powerfully magical place, because it gets weird a lot faster and more uncontrollably.”  Evans followed this intriguing little speech by taking his arm and physically pulling him out of the Rock section and towards something called Funk, despite his protests that he wasn’t done yet.

“Anyway,” she continued cheerfully, “I left it to practice all afternoon, and hopefully it will have calmed down some by the time Mary comes to get it for the party.  Oh, come on, Sirius—it won’t kill you to branch out a little in genre!”

It didn’t kill him, but it was a close thing.  Sirius ended up replaying ‘Superstition’ so many times that the large muggle boy in line behind him became downright unreasonable about it, and the two of them were strongly encouraged to ring up their purchases and take their leave.  At the register, something that he should have realized hours ago finally dawned on him.

“Evans!” he yelped, “I don’t have any money!”  The owner’s mood, which was not particularly sunny to begin with, tipped into something very chilly indeed.

“Don’t be stupid, Sirius,” said Evans.  “I’ve got the money.”  Sure enough, she began to count out paper notes—which he remembered from Prongs were called punds.

“But… you can’t pay!”  Sirius was very clear on this point, since it was one of the few things that Mama Effy and his mum agreed on: you shouldn’t let a girl pay.

Evans rolled her eyes spectacularly.  “We’ll sort that out later—but really!  I paid ten quid for that jacket, and you didn’t say anything then!”  She met the owner’s eyes awkwardly.  “We’ll pay together, thanks.”  Looking sour, he began to pack away their records.

“Great,” sighed Evans as they left the store.  “Now he thinks you’re my kept man or something.”

As funny as that idea was, Sirius refused to be distracted from the point.  “Yeah, Evans, thanks, but I can’t let you pick up the bill for everything!  I mean, aren’t you poor?”  He knew the minute he said it that he’d mis-stepped, but not in time to stop his mouth.  If Remus was here, he’d be kicking Sirius for being such a colossal moron.  As it was, he had to resort to pinching himself very hard through his new jacket (that Evans had spent ten quid on).

Her eyes had gone hard and flat.  “And last I heard, rich boy, you weren’t the heir to anything anymore.  So maybe it’s time you get used to thinking of yourself as one of us—the poor.”

Her response cut deeper than Sirius had expected.  Being dependent on the Potter’s charity was bad enough, but snide comments about it from a girl he barely knew were testing the limits of his temper.  His instincts were to strike back harder, to escalate as he always did, but for some reason he hesitated.

His own hesitation troubled him.  It made sense that he was reluctant to ruin what had been such a good afternoon, but it went deeper than that.  When had he started caring about what Evans thought of him?  He didn’t like the feeling.

Sirius could remember making Evans cry once, back in second year.  It wasn’t exactly a pleasant memory, but for some reason it calmed him.  If he really needed to, he could do it again—just sever whatever was forming between them and leave it behind.  But maybe he didn’t have to do it just yet.

After all, Mama Effy was always telling him that his temper would be the death of him.  Some of her other advice, probably unrelated to this situation, was that it wouldn’t be the end of the world to accept help from people who offered it.  Besides, Prongs would kill him if he squandered the brief period either of them had spent in Evans’ good graces.  Slowly, deliberately, Sirius let his shoulders relax.  He could see Evans’ stance mirror his as she, too, took a slow breath.

Now that he’d decided not to have the fight, it was down to him to try to end it, something he had much less practice at.  Awkwardly, he began, “I mean that… obviously I don’t have any muggle money.  So since you have some, then I guess it makes sense for you to pay today.  But maybe then I can pay the next time we’re in Hogsmeade?”  He hoped that would be enough.

It seemed to be—Evans was smiling again.  She shook his hand, formally, as though they had just signed a business deal.  “Fair decision, Black,” she said.

“You don’t have to worry, though,” she added, even though he obviously wasn’t worried.  “My mum sends me money every time she writes, but it’s not like I’ve got any place to change it at Hogwarts.  So I’ve got plenty of muggle money lying around that I don’t get the chance to use.”

He opened his mouth to remind her that he wasn’t worried, and hadn’t asked, when he was cut off by an audible rumble from her stomach.  “You’re hungry again?”

Evans grinned at him.  “Pick your poison, Black.”

They went for curry.  As they waited for their orders to arrive, Sirius asked her how she knew so much about music, anyway.

Evans looked surprised and a little flattered to be asked.  “My dad.  He was a big jazz man, and we used to listen to his records together in the evenings.  He always used to say that knowledge of jazz was the key to all music—that once you understood jazz you could enter any new genre or song without fear.  After…” she broke off, dropping her eyes to her plate.  “The summer he died, I worked my way through his entire record collection.  Then, I guess I just kept going.”  She cleared her throat.

Sirius was staring at her, intent.  He remembered that her father had died, but wasn’t sure about when—the summer before either second or third year, he figured.  She’d seemed pretty broken up about it, which he didn’t get.  Even now, listening to the obvious grief in her voice, it was like observing an alien species.  When he thought of his dead father, he didn’t think his expression was anything like hers looked right now.

Luckily, their orders arrived before he was forced to formulate a response, and they both dug in gratefully.  Evans proved to be pathetic about the spice, coughing and weeping and asking for refills of water.  The more of a scene she made, the more profoundly smug Sirius became.

Evans sat back in her seat, gasping.  “God, I think I’m actually sweating?  How are you not bothered?”

And, well, she had told him about her family, so he began to try to explain.  He was surprised to find the words falling out easily, telling her about summers at the Potters’, about trying pweza wa nazi and biryani for the first time, about chai in the mornings and the dangerously hot dish of pili-pili sauce that accompanied every meal.  About “helping” with dinner, and how that really meant just hanging out in the kitchen and daring each other to bite into chilies while Mama Effy’s back was turned.  How they were finally busted when Prongs started crying, and they were banished from the kitchen forever.  Or at least for a day, until Mama Effy decided the proper punishment would be for them all to shut up and help her fill sambusas until they thought their hands would never move the same again.††

Halfway through a story Sirius remembered that he should be observing Evans closely for any reaction to Prongs’ name, but so far there didn’t seem to be one.  He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, anyway.  Who knew what girls looked like when they liked someone—did they jump up and down, or squeal?  He had a vague impression from a cartoon Peter had shown him that their eyes turned into hearts, but that couldn’t be accurate.  None of that was happening right now.  If anything, Evans looked wistful, smiling a far-away sort of smile at him across the dishes.  It didn’t seem promising for Prongs.

~

After the near-death experience that was dinner, Lily and Sirius strolled back outside to the realization that dusk had fallen, and it was much later than they’d thought it was.  Once again, they found themselves running, exchanging crudely worded accusations of fault as they did so.  They barely made the portkey, and only were allowed to squeeze into the circle of tourists standing around it when Lily pretended to cry.

With the customary jerk, they landed on the platform in Hogsmeade and disentangled themselves from the other travelers as best as they could.  Now, however, they faced a new problem, and Lily looked despairingly at the dark path up to the castle.

“How on earth are we going to get back—they’ve closed the gates already!”

Sirius laughed.

“Shut up,” she said, without much bite to it.  “This is your fault and you know it.  We’ll get detention for sure—even if it’s someone nice at the gate, with all this shite we’re carrying, there’s no excuse they’d believe.”

“Evans, my dear, will you ever forgive me?”

She turned.  “I just might, assuming the smug look on your face means that you’ve got a way out of this.”

“I most certainly do… but you’re not going to like it.”

“Oh, what now.”

“I have to request that you close your eyes—it wouldn’t do to reveal marauder’s secrets to an outsider, now would it?”

“You’re having me on,” she said flatly.

“Come on, Evans!  What could possibly go wrong if you trust me?”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” said Lily, closing her eyes in the most exasperated way she could manage.  A moment later, she felt Sirius take her bags out of her hand to grip her elbow and start them walking up the Hogsmeade path.

They couldn’t have gone far before he was bringing her to a stop again, but she couldn’t tell what building they would be in front of.  Lily thought about simply peeking, but somehow it didn’t seem very sportsmanlike.  Instead she thought back, trying to recreate the main street of Hogsmeade in her head.  A waft of warm, delicious chocolate smell floated by her, turning her thoughts in one direction.  “Are we in front of Honeydukes?” she asked.

Sirius laughed from somewhere to her right.  “Close!  Actually, that would have been another option, but it’s not busy enough for that to be our best bet.”

Lily, out of guesses, subsided into a sulky silence.  Sirius returned to her side and walked her around the building to the back, before leading her down a sloping passage.  They must have been underground; the air against her face was cool and damp.  They walked for some time without speaking, before, “Are you humming ‘Superstition’?”

“Can you tell?” said Sirius, eagerly.

“Barely,” sniffed Lily.  “It took me ages to guess that’s what you must have been going for.”

“Steve Wonder, right?  He’s an American, isn’t he?”

“Stevie,” answered Lily.  “And yes—Alice turned me onto him after Frank spent that summer with the international affairs office and went to New York.  Apparently they have a lot more mixing between muggles and wizards than we do here…” her voice trailed off, but she rallied quickly.  “Anyway, Frank heard him at a lot of the wizard/muggle parties he went to, and he brought back some records for Alice.”

“I have never, in my life, heard anything like that before,” said Sirius, with deep sincerity.

Lily laughed.  “Remus has been doing you a disservice just letting you stay in your comfort zone all these years!  But I suppose Remus is more of a punk than anything…”

“How would you know what Moony likes?” said Sirius suspiciously.

“I have gone to school with him for more than five years, you know.  And been his prefect partner for a year.  We occasionally speak to each other.”  When Sirius didn’t laugh, Lily added, “Mostly it came up because he wanted my opinion on some of the other guys’ birthday records.  He said he had you all figured out, though.”

“Really?” said Sirius, too casual.  “Did he say anything else about me?”

Some old suspicions were rearing their heads, but they didn’t have enough substance to warrant mentioning yet.  Sirius was very possessive about his friends, after all.  But it did make Lily think, looking back on her conversations with Remus in a different light.  No, Remus hadn’t said anything about Sirius in particular, but…

Sirius’ silence, when she told him as much, was dejected enough that Lily took pity on him, adding, “I know Remus wouldn’t stoop to buying glam rock for just anybody.  Your birthday must be important to him…”

Sirius perked back up.  “Moony likes you, Evans.  Says you’re a good mate,” he said, magnanimously.

“Thank you,” said Lily, light enough on the sarcasm for Sirius to ignore it.  At that moment, her foot struck something painfully hard, scattering her thoughts again.

“Oh hell—we’re starting up some stairs now, by the way.”

“It would have served you right if I ‘accidentally’ opened my eyes from the pain,” said Lily.

“Ah, but Evans, then I’d have to kill you,” said Sirius.  She could sense him grinning at her, and pinched him.  “Careful, careful… Evans!  Damn you, lay off!  We’re almost there.”

Sirius released her arm, leaving her disoriented at the top of the staircase.  She could hear him fumbling around, and then a rush of air greeted her as the exit swung open.

“Alright, hop on down,” he said, taking her hand again.  Her hop, still sightless, was clumsy, and they both swore as they knocked into each other.

“I hope you learn to lead better before the wedding,” said Lily, clutching her forehead.

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, and assume you’re more graceful with all of your senses functioning.  Come on—just a little further and then you can open your eyes again.”

When Sirius finally declared it time for her to be healed of her blindness, he insisted on spinning her around in circles first, to ‘throw her off the scent.’  When she finally opened them, dizzy and laughing, they were already in front of the Fat Lady.

“What was the point of spinning me, then!” she shouted after Sirius as he disappeared through the portrait hole.  “Sirius—you bastard!  Come back here—you’re going to regret spinning me if it’s the last thing I do!”

Stumbling—she was still dizzy after all—she jumped through the portrait hole and almost ran into him.  She grabbed the back of his ten quid jacket to steady herself, and got her first good look around.  The Gryffindor Halloween party had already started, and from the looks of it was in full swing when she and Sirius made their entrance.  Now, most motion in the room had stopped in favor of staring at her and Sirius hanging off of each other by the door.

She prodded Sirius hopefully.  When he failed to volunteer anything, it seemed the role of explanation would fall to Lily.  She stepped out from behind Sirius, offering weakly, “Hey, Mary—we picked up some records for the party?”

Chapter Text

Upon entrance to the Gryffindor Halloween Party, Lily was immediately hauled off by Mary for Questioning.  Sirius, dumping their purchases back into her arms, darted away towards his friends, abandoning her to her fate.

“Why were you with Sirius Black?” hissed Mary, dragging Lily into a huddle with Marlene and Dorcas.

“Is that why you ditched us and Hogsmeade?” demanded Dorcas.  “You were hanging out before Transfig a few weeks ago too… since when are you guys so friendly?”

Mary gave a dramatic gasp, throwing out an arm and smacking Marlene in the chest.  “Lily, have you been getting off with Sirius Black?  Because if you were, and you didn’t tell me all about it, I’ll kill you with my own two hands!”

Lily’s indignant “No!” was drowned out by the sound of Marlene and Dorcas bursting into hysterical laughter.

“Sirius?” said Marlene, incredulously, “with Lily?  Oh, that’s too much.”

Mary, indignant, began to defend Lily.  “How can you say something so mean right in front of her face!  Yeah, maybe she dresses like rubbish and she refuses to let me style her hair, but Lily’s still really pretty!  Sirius would be lucky…”

Lily glanced over at Sirius, where he was talking to his friends.  James and Peter were messing with the zippers on Sirius’ jacket, but Sirius was ignoring them.  Instead, he was watching Remus closely.  Meanwhile, Remus was looking determinedly away from Sirius, but when Sirius leaned in to whisper something in his ear a distinct flush spread across his cheeks.  It didn’t escape Sirius’ eyes either, and looked decidedly pleased with himself.

“Mary,” Lily said, “thanks for the support—I guess—but that’s not what they meant.”  She met Marlene’s eye for confirmation, and Marlene gave a shrug.

“Well, what did you mean?” Mary started, but Lily cut her off.

“Really, I just ran into him in the kitchens and let him tag along to go pick up some records.  It was kind of an impulse…”

Mary sniffed.  “I don’t know why you brought him and not me!  What about Sirius Black has ever screamed ‘good taste in music’ to you, may I ask?”

“I don’t know,” said Lily.  Why had she brought him?  “I guess we were talking about the record player, and he seemed really excited at the idea of going to a muggle town…”  Lily trailed off, distracted.  Across the room, James was excitedly trying on Sirius’ bomber jacket, sticking his hands in the pockets and craning his neck to try to see himself from multiple angles.  Seeing him in the olive green muggle jacket, rather than in his usual black school robes, made her angry for some reason.  She hadn’t bought it for him, after all.  She thought about marching over and ripping it off him, but Sirius did it first.  She could hear him taunting James as they played at fighting over the jacket, but she couldn’t catch everything he was saying.

“Lily?  I said, let’s see what you guys got,” said Mary, tugging one of the bags out of her hands.

“Let go!  Evans paid ten pounds for that beauty…” Sirius’ voice floated over to her across the noise of the room and Lily felt her lips curving in a pleased, private smile.  She turned her back on James Potter, following Mary over to the record table without a second look.

~

“Lily, I don’t know why you bothered to bring these—nobody can even dance to half of them,” said Mary, tossing Zeppelin IV to the side in disgust.  Now that they were the only ones with a working record player, Mary had nominated herself official DJ of the Halloween party, and she was taking her job very seriously.  Lily didn’t really see the point, personally.  Wizard dances were stiff, formal things, involving forming patterns and exchanging partners, like the sort of dances she would have pictured happening in renaissance Italy, or Jane Austen novels.  She was pretty sure that they could manage them to any song in her pile, disco or not.

Lily turned back to helping Mary sort records anyway.  She knew a handful of wizarding dances, but if the music was good enough she might get lucky and Mary or Alice would hustle with her for a song or two.  With that in mind, she made big, pleading eyes at Mary, saying, “Don’t be mad, babes… I got you a present…”  With a flourish, Lily pulled another record out from behind her back, waving it under Mary’s nose.

“Is that…”

“You bet!” answered Lily, doing a happy little dance step.  “I didn’t think they’d have any left by the time we got there, but the shop restocked this week!”

With a shriek of delight, Mary threw herself into Lily’s arms and planted a smacking kiss on her cheek.

“Careful,” laughed Lily, “what if I drop it?”

“Gimme, gimme,” said Mary, making grabby hands at the record.  With a bow, Lily handed it over, and Mary placed it reverently on the turntable, cutting off the sounds of KC & the Sunshine Band.  As the opening strums of ‘When I Kissed the Teacher’ spilled out, Mary began to jump up and down.  “I can’t believe you got this!  I thought there would be no way we’d be able to get ABBA’s new album before Christmas break!”

“Anything for you, babes,” said Lily, smiling.  By the second song, Mary was unable to sit still any longer, and abandoned her DJ responsibilities to drag Lily onto the floor for a dance.

“Besides,” she shouted over the music, “only a crazy person would want me to change songs right now!”

Lily let Mary spin her around and around as the chorus of ‘Dancing Queen’ faded out.  As she stumbled off the floor, flushed and laughing, she thought she could feel eyes on her, but she must have been mistaken.

Mary, equally giggly, started to ask her for another dance, but the next song proved to be a slow one and Mary’s hand was quickly claimed by a tall Hufflepuff boy.

Wizards—at Hogwarts at least—had embraced the concept of slow dancing.  If only because it didn’t require much skill, Lily thought sarcastically.  Mary wasn’t the only person on the floor, revolving slowly in someone’s embrace.  Frank and Alice were dancing as well, her forehead resting tenderly against his jaw, the two of them making swaying in place seem much more graceful than other couples managed.  Case in point: Dorcas and Marlene, Dorcas punching Marlene in the arm as she dipped her dramatically.  Behind them, Lily spotted James Potter, his messy dark hair shining blue in the colored lights, arms around some girl whose face she couldn’t see.

Lily suddenly felt awkward, standing there on the side of the floor, her laughter used up.  She walked back toward the turntable and began to flip through records without really seeing them.

~

“Boo!” came Marlene’s voice from behind Lily.  “Happy Halloween!”

“Hey, Marly—where’s Dorcas got to?”

Marlene shoved back the top hat she was wearing and scanned the crowd, as if looking for Dorcas as well.  “Oh, after I dropped her the third time she refused to dance with me anymore.  I think she’s dancing with Peter now?  As if that’s going to go any better…”  She looked Lily up and down, critically.  “You’re not wearing a costume!  We were trying to do costumes, this year, like they do in America!”

It was hard to tell what Marlene was supposed to be—a circus ringmaster, maybe?  Who knew what “American” costume she’d decided to attempt, when vampires, ghosts, and all the muggle Halloween classics would be boring at best and species-ist at worst.

“I’m a muggle,” Lily replied at last, “that’s what wizards fear most, right?”

Marlene frowned at her.  “Never mind,” said Lily.

In some places, Lily knew, witches and wizards still dressed up in straw or ribbons, charmed objects to move on their own and sent strange effigies parading down the streets on holidays like this one.  In second year, the McKinnons had taken Marlene’s whole class on a field trip to one of the traditional wizard Halloween festivals—it had been a riotous good time, even considering that, at no more than thirteen years old, they’d been brought back to the castle before the party really got started.

The thing that those celebrations had reminded her of, unexpectedly, was her Grandmother’s stories of mummers plays in the Ireland of her youth.  Lily hadn’t expected to ever see any—she’d thought the English had stamped all those festivals out long ago.  But wizards were so insular and so slow to change, it made sense that they would have preserved traditions that were distant memories to muggles.  It made her wish that she could have brought her grandmother to one, although of course that would have been impossible.

She opened her mouth to ask Marlene if she remembered that trip, but Marlene wasn’t paying attention anymore, focused instead on watching Dorcas wince her way through a dance with Peter.  Lily went back to flipping through the records.  Arrival would finish in a song or two, and she might as well queue something up so Mary could keep dancing.

“Marlene!” shouted James from across the dance floor.  “Get your arse over here, McKinnon, Ferguson is going to teach us to Riverdance!”  His eyes slid over Lily as if she wasn’t there.

~

“Actually, I have a record request,” said Remus.  Lily and Mary were back to manning the turntable, and they were enjoying flexing their power over the other students, rejecting request after request in their most lordly tones.

Remus, always quick on the uptake, changed his tone to match.  “I mean, if I might so humbly submit an offering before the queens of the dance—”  He pulled a single out of his robes, with a young black woman on the front.  “Donna Summer,” he clarified to Mary’s questioning look.  “She’s big in the states.”

Lily narrowed her eyes at him.  What are you up to? her look said.

Remus responded with wide, guileless eyes, saying as plain as words, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.

Mary, convinced, placed the record on the turntable, and the singer’s high, sweet voice began crooning, ‘I love to love you baby…”  Mary bobbed her head, pleased.

“You don’t like disco,” started Lily, suspiciously, when suddenly a throaty, erotic moan issued forth from the speakers.  Mary and Lily both froze, staring at it in horror.

“Why is it making that noise!” yelped Mary, turning red as groans and breathy sighs continued to punctuate every line of the song.  “Lily!”

“What’s wrong with your bloody turntable?”  Dorcas had turned up, followed by a laughing Marlene.  Marlene leaned forward, unhelpfully mimicking the moans and groans loudly in Dorcas’ ear.  “Does it think playing records means getting off?”

“Maybe they’re the same thing, for a turntable?” said Marlene, even more unhelpfully.

“It’s not the player,” snapped Lily, “it’s the bloody song, isn’t it, Lupin!”*

Remus gave the small, wicked smile that was always his only reaction to a successful prank, but behind him Sirius was falling over himself with laughter, completely giving the game away.

“Is that what you guys were getting upstairs?” asked Peter, running up to the group.  “You were ages!  I was going to go look for you but James said not to…”

Mary was attempting to change the record, but was apparently too flustered to remove them from their sleeves.  Meanwhile, the rest of the party had begun to notice, and were starting to throw startled looks over at the group of amateur DJs.  Lily was just turning to snatch a record away from Mary and change the disks herself, when an olive-green sleeve leaned past her over the table and lifted the needle, smoothly transferring a new record onto the table and setting the needle back down with no more than a few seconds of silence in between.  As the drums started, Lily looked up and met James Potter’s eyes.

Reaching for the player had brought his face very close to hers, closer than he’d been in months.  Close enough for her to smell whatever cologne he was wearing, something vaguely spicy and deeply familiar.  With it came memories of stealing each other’s toast at breakfast, of sitting together in first period Transfiguration, and being tackled in snowball fights; memories that had been so distant until a moment ago, when they had all come roaring back.  His eyes were very dark.  As her eyes traveled down his face she could see his throat work as he swallowed, hard.

Sirius’ voice grew louder as he came closer, complaining.  “We were trying to help you out, Prongs!  Set a mood!”

James looked away.  “Sorry about them, they’re idiots,” he said to Mary.  “It’s only a single, so you’ll need to change songs again in a few minutes.”

He turned to shout at Sirius, saying, “All this talk about Stephen Wonder, and now you don’t even appreciate me putting him on?  Some fan you are, Black!”  He stepped back from the table as easily as he’d approached it, leaving Lily on edge, unable to figure out why she was breathing so fast.

The clavinet riff got moving, and Frank and Alice rushed up to the table to pull her onto the dance floor.  She went, determined to ignore James Potter, and have a good time.  After all, the afternoon had shaped up to be much better than the morning!  Maybe the party would be the same.

~

The next morning, as the other girls dragged her out of bed, Lily could say for a fact that the party had not gotten better.

“Oh, give it up,” said Mary unsympathetically, despite all Lily’s whining and clinging to her pillows.  “You went up early!  You don’t get to claim to be tired now!”

Lily was tired.  She’d danced for hours, but the easy conversation and good mood of the afternoon had slipped further and further away, unable to be recovered.  Somehow none of her friends had noticed how robotic her laughter had become, or how automatic and flat her responses were—it had felt glaringly obvious at the time that something was wrong with her.  She supposed that she was better at hiding things than she’d thought.  Eventually, sick of James Potter speaking to people standing next to her, but not to her, and seeing him dancing in the coat she bought for Sirius, not for him, she’d vanished upstairs early, hoping to go to sleep.  Instead, the music and laughter of the party followed her upstairs, keeping her awake long after things had wound down.

“I’m mad at you, by the way,” Mary continued.  “You left me having to do a cool-down set all on my own, and these idiots,” she gestured to Marlene and Dorcas, snogging by the doorway, “are no help at all!  Absolutely no sense of how a playlist should flow.”

Marlene flipped her off over Dorcas’ shoulder, but otherwise remained intent on what she was doing.

“It’s too bloody early for me to have to see this,” grumbled Lily, as she dug around under her bed for her other boot.

“Will you two homophobes hurry up?” said Dorcas impatiently.  “If we don’t make it to the Three Broomsticks by ten, we won’t get a table!”

~

The noise and bustle of the Three Broomsticks, along with the enormous breakfast Rosemerta served her, had left Lily a little less hostile.  She stepped out of the pub and turned her face up into the warm sunshine, which felt like a gift in contrast with the brisk November air.  As her friends attempted to convene everyone back outside on the street, a process that involved a great deal of milling around and darting back inside for forgotten objects, they stumbled into the path of a woman hurrying by the door.  Moving to apologize, Lily looked into the woman’s face and gave a start of surprise.  The woman, with a contemptuous look, stepped around Lily and continued on her way.

“What was that?” asked Frank, giving up on holding the door.

“Nothing,” said Lily slowly.  “I just thought I knew her, is all.”  For all that she was a decade older and a woman, she had looked remarkably like Sirius.

Frank’s eyes followed hers up the street, to where the woman was turning into one of Rosemerta’s competitors, a much posher establishment that Lily had never been in.  “That’s Bellatrix Black, that is,”   To Lily’s shock, he turned and spat on the ground after saying it.  When he looked back up, his face was hard in a way she’d never seen on him before.

“She’s Sirius’ cousin—and a real nasty piece of work.”  He looked at Lily and spoke low, with urgency in his voice.  “Listen to me, Lily.  You stay away from her, you hear me?  You see her coming again and you cross the street…”

“Jeez, Frank, I get it…” said Lily, scowling.  Frank sometimes went overboard with the big-brother act; she wasn’t sure if she liked it or if it annoyed her.  It made her feel warm inside, most of the time, but it did also make her think of Petunia, which was its own thorny tangle that she preferred to ignore.

Frank was squinting down the street at the restaurant Black had entered.  “Come to think of it,” he said, as if he was thinking out loud, “maybe you had better stay out of La Folie as well.  It can’t be any good if she’s choosing to go there…”

“Frank!” said Lily, drawing his focus back to her.  “I get it—I won’t go near her—but why not?  What’s got you so worked up?”

Frank sighed, a tired sadness creeping into his voice and making itself visible around his brown eyes and smooth forehead.  “Any chance you’d just take my word for it?”

Lily felt a surge of fondness—he really was the closest thing she had to a big brother.  “You know I trust you, Frank.  Just like I know that you’re going to tell me the truth.”

“She calls herself a wizarding rights activist.  She and her husband, Lestrange—which I guess makes her Bellatrix Lestrange now—travel around giving anti-muggle, anti-muggleborn talks.”

So that was what Narcissa Black’s big sister had been doing in Italy, Lily thought bitterly.  She must have sounded like such a fool, asking what they’d been doing on the Continent.  “But still,” she said to Frank, “there’s lots of those around.  I mean, look at Rancourt—and I can’t exactly avoid the Defense teacher!”

“What?” said Frank sharply.  “What about Rancourt?”

Lily shrugged.  “He’s a bigot—that’s not important though.  What about Bellatrix Black?”

Frank, looking reluctant, resigned himself to giving her a straight answer.  “She’s more… extreme, than most.  She and her husband advocate for total removal of muggleborns from wizarding society, and worse.  At their rallies, they incite violence against muggles, and really against anyone who isn’t pureblood.  We can’t definitively tie them to any particular crimes, but there’s a strong correlation between their rallies and incidents of violence and muggle-baiting.  She’s dangerous, Lily.”

Marlene, both gloves on, bounced up to Lily and threw her arms around her.  “What are we talking about, that has you both looking so serious?”  Neither Frank nor Lily knew how to answer her, but luckily Marlene kept talking without waiting for one.

“Aren’t you cold, Lily?” she asked, giving a dramatic shiver.  “It’s November already!  Time to start wearing a jacket, at least.”

Despite the sunshine, which had been so bright a moment ago, Lily felt the first of the autumn chill in the air.

~

“I got the prefect partner schedule from Narcissa— Hey!”

Mulciber ripped the schedule out of Travers hands.  “What were you thinking, going to Black?  Malfoy’s made things very clear: she’s to have no part in this.”

“She offered it to me!  She came up to me and said she knew we were looking for this.  She wants to help!”

“That may be the case, but don’t ask her for anymore handouts.  It wouldn’t do to disobey Malfoy’s orders.  If he wants his fiancée’s baby sister kept out of it, then it’s our job to stick to that.”  Mulciber was already scanning the pages, looking for the night of September 21^st.  He hissed.  “There it is!  Lily Evans, and Remus Lupin!”

“That’s what I was saying,” said Travers indignantly, when a new voice cut in.

“So it’s Lupin, is it?”

“Exactly, Severus.  Now we know who we have to watch, so we can keep them both under observation until we get an opportunity to deal with them.”

“Do we have to?  They obviously don’t know anything, or if they do they aren’t planning on telling—why can’t we just pretend it never happened?”

“I can’t believe I have to explain this to you, Travers, but you can never be too sure.  Something about our future activities might jog their memory, or make them change their minds and report us after all—it’s better if they’re safely obliviated or their credibility is otherwise damaged.”

Turning to Snape, Mulciber continued, “We should move quickly—we want this leak dealt with before the equinox, or the risk of exposure could become too great.”

“Actually,” said Snape thoughtfully, “leave Lupin to me.  I’ve got something… special, I’ve been wanting to arrange for him.”

Chapter Text

It was November and Sirius Black once again dominated the Hogwarts gossip mill, but with one crucial difference: this time, no one had any idea what he’d done.  His closest friends were no longer speaking to him, but neither were they inclined to explain what had caused such a rift.  Just as they had back in October, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus Lupin had closed ranks against the prying curiosity of the school, but this time Sirius was on the outside.  All the rest of Hogwarts knew was that Saturday was a day like any other, but Sunday morning found Sirius Black haggard and alone at the breakfast table, without any friends left.

“I’ll be honest,” said Mary, “I was sure this was just some sort of stupid prank at first, but it’s been at over a week!”

“A prank?” said Dorcas, “Mary, what exactly would be funny about this?  He’s putting me off my bloody food…”

It was hard to imagine how anyone but the most optimistic person among them might still believe that this was a harmless joke.  Sirius, so rigid with pride during the fervor over his disownment, was rendered completely transparent by desperation, spending every meal staring down the table at his former friends with a naked longing that was difficult to watch.

“I’ve never seen them like this,” added Marlene.  “Not even in first year, when Black was still spouting all his pureblood rubbish…  Longest I’ve seen Idiot One and Two go without speaking to each other doesn’t even break twenty-four hours…”

“We’re all in for it now,” added Dorcas.  “Who knows what Black might do without Potter holding his leash.”

Alice glanced down the table at Sirius before she spoke, as if to make sure he wasn’t listening, but it was a pointless gesture.  Lily was pretty sure a gun could go off at the high table and Sirius wouldn’t notice anything but the three meters of distance between himself and the back of Remus’ head.  “I’m worried too.  Frank tried to talk to them, but,” Alice shrugged helplessly, “none of them will budge.  All James will say is that it’s for the best.”

Countless rumors, some far-fetched, some unfortunately more convincing, were keeping the castle busy.  One that seemed to have some staying power was that Sirius Black had gotten off with Lily Evans the night of the Gryffindor Halloween Party, leading James Potter to end their friendship in a fit of jealous rage.

“But don’t worry, Lily,” said Mary soothingly.  “We know that’s not true.  If you snogged anyone as hot as Sirius Black, you’d tell me all about it immediately!”

Lily spoke quickly over Marlene’s snort.  “What doesn’t make sense about that one is people really thinking Potter and Black would break up over something like that?  Honestly, he asked me out maybe once, for a joke.  I don’t know why everyone always made such a big deal out of it.”  She noticed the stares the other girls were giving her and fell silent.  At least, that was how she thought it had gone down.  It wasn’t a memory she liked to dwell on, and the week before term ended, when it was all the school could talk about, had been interminable.

“…Right,” said Mary.  “Anyway.  We know that’s not what happened.”

It might serve as the favorite explanation for most of Hogwarts, but Gryffindors, who lived with Sirius, knew better.  The details would probably never be revealed, but it was clear to most people who knew the sixth year boys that this was all, somehow, about Remus.  Peter’s anxious jokes, James’ anger, and Sirius’ misery all orbited the same person, respectively placating, protective, and pleading.

What Remus thought, however, was anyone’s guess.  Peter and James were easy enough to read, and Sirius impossible to miss, but Remus was as calm and even-keeled as he had ever been.  At least at first glance.

Despite appearances, something was deeply wrong.  Lily watched as Remus rose from the table, walking with unhurried steps along the table toward the exit.  Sirius’ head followed his movements as if tied to him, turning as Remus walked closer, leaning nearly out of his seat in an effort to catch his eye.  Remus moved past without changing his gait, as if Sirius wasn’t even there.

Remus’ outward serenity came with a coldness and a distance that made itself felt, not just in his interactions with Sirius, but with everyone.  Lily was reminded of the stone wall that she would hit whenever she tried to question him about his friends.  It felt as though Remus had finally disappeared behind it, impossible to reach.

Lily did her best to put Sirius’ devastated face, rejected again, out of her mind.  She had her own problems to deal with.

~

Namely, her problem was Snape.  He had been trying to talk to her again, with increasing urgency, all week.  She’d hoped that their argument on the first day of classes would be enough for him to finally just leave it alone, but knowing him as she did, she also knew that hope was futile.  Sure enough, he’d been hovering on the periphery of her vision, silently watching her, since around the time she and Remus had been attacked.  She figured that he was waiting for her to come and speak to him first, but she simply didn’t have the energy to have the same fight with him again.

Thankfully, it took him until this week to resort to approaching her himself.  He still was hesitant to speak to her in front of other people, so she’d avoided him so far, but she knew it was only a matter of time until he caught her alone.  Apparently today was that day—after lunch, but before Transfiguration, when none of Lily’s friends shared her free.  She had been on her way to the library, hurrying through the empty corridors, when she heard him call her name from behind her.

Lily turned slowly.  She was still a few minutes from the library, and even that wasn’t a perfect escape—he could easily follow her in there, even if it was harder to talk to her under Madame Pince’s rigidly enforced dictate of silence.  Gryffindor Tower would be better—not only could he not follow her in, but he couldn’t risk waiting outside for her to reemerge with so many hostile Gryffindors around—but it was almost a ten minute walk away.  Unless she took a shortcut, but she didn’t want to showing him her favorite secret passage if she could avoid it…

Snape was still speaking.  “…it’s important, Lily.  You could be in danger!”

“Danger?  From whom—your mates, maybe?” Lily snapped.  Or, she thought, irritated with herself for rising to his bait, I guess we’ll do this here after all.

“No—from yours!” said Snape, looking momentarily triumphant.  “They’re not all who you think they are…”

“I don’t want to hear it,” said Lily firmly, turning to walk away.

“You need to!” he said, with surprising force.  “Just because we’re fighting doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get hurt!”

Lily wanted to correct him, to remind him that they weren’t just fighting—that they were done.  That he should drop his end of whatever ties had bound them together, because they’d stopped being friends a long time ago.  But before she could make that point he’d continued, his voice thick with bitterness.  “They’ve fooled you good and proper—you can’t even see what’s right in front of your face.  They’re not your friends—one of them isn’t even human!”

“Hang on,” said Lily, suddenly alert.  “Is this about Remus?  Is this about your crackpot conspiracy theories again?”  He flushed angrily, but didn’t deny it.  Lily pressed her advantage, knowing that she had to silence him on this topic if she possibly could.  “It’s sick that you keep going after Remus like this!  I know you have your issues with Black and Potter, but Remus has never done anything to you—fucking drop it!”

“It’s different this time,” snarled Snape, moving toward her in a rush.  “I have proof this time—Dumbledore—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” said Lily, again.  These confrontations with him were still horrible, but they were getting easier with practice—apparently you really could get used to anything.  At least this time her hands weren’t shaking.  She pulled her wand.  “Now back off before I hex you.”

Snape took a few steps back, hands held open and empty in front of him.  He was watching her wand, but he glanced up at her face to speak.  “Lily… just be careful.  You can’t trust him.  He’s been lying to you…”

“I don’t think,” said Lily, shoving her wand back into her pocket, “that you get to tell me who I can and can’t trust.”  There weren’t any better options—she turned and ducked into the secret passage back to Gryffindor Tower, praying that he wouldn’t follow her.  He didn’t, and she was alone with the silence.

~

Lily had planned to go immediately to bed after the ordeal that was rounds with Narcissa Black (now conducted in total silence), but like happened so often lately, once she was there she couldn’t sleep.  As her roommates’ breathing slowed around her and the clock ticked on, Lily became more and more frustrated with herself.  She would have to be delusional not to know that leaving the dormitories to wander the castle at night was silly, possibly even dangerous, but on nights like this her practical side couldn’t convince the rest of her to stay still.  Gathering her wand and a sweater she stepped into her waiting shoes and slipped out the door.

As she floated silently across the common room, however, she was startled by movement over by the fire.  Glancing at the clock, she confirmed that it was well after one—much later than she’d ever seen the common room occupied on a school night.

The figure by the fire turned, letting the light fall on his face, and, “Sirius?” she said.

Sirius looked up at her from where he was hunched over on the sofa.  “Lily?  Lily!”  He gave a lopsided grin.

“Sirius, what the hell are you doing down here?” said Lily, well aware that he could easily ask her the same question.  But he didn’t seem to notice she’d spoken, let alone the suspicious picture she made in her shoes and pajamas.

The strange smile lingered on his face as he tipped his head back to say confidently to the fireplace, “It’s Lily!  Lily’s here too!”

Used to wizard habits, Lily leaned to the side to peer into the fire at whoever Sirius might be talking to, but there was no one there.  She began to grow concerned, his odd behavior cutting through the disassociated state she usually spent her midnight rounds in and forcing her to focus on him.  Not to mention, he was using her first name.  He hadn’t called her Lily since the beginning of third year.

She came closer to ask him again, more clearly, “Sirius, what are you doing down here?”

“’Mm sleepin’,” said Sirius.  He was still slumped over, but as he turned his head away from the fire to look her full in the face for the first time, something became rapidly clear.

“Sirius, are you drunk?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’ more than was necessary.

Lily sat down heavily on the sofa next to him and began hauling him into an upright position, not very gently.  “Are you—  Where did you even get alcohol?”

Sirius, letting himself be pushed and pulled back to sitting, wagged his finger in her face.  “Nuh-uh—marauder’s secret!”  This teasing sentence seemed to bring the return of his dark mood in its wake, and he looked back at the fire, brooding.

Lily was thinking through everything he had said to her so far—it had been a little confused.  “Did you say sleeping?” she remembered.  She felt a rush of indignation on Sirius’ behalf.  “Are they making you sleep down here?”  Sirius didn’t reply, only meeting her eyes with a quick, miserable look, before returning to staring at the fire, resigned to his fate.

The fire was only embers now, and Sirius, wearing nothing thicker than one of the t-shirt’s she’d bought for him, was beginning to shiver.  It was the stupid muggle shirt, more than anything else, that triggered her latent caring instincts, and instead of pressing the issue she set about building up the fire in silence.

After she’d gotten it back to a strong blaze, she started to feel hesitant again.  Lily didn’t have much experience dealing with drunk people, and she wasn’t exactly sure what else to do for him.  She seemed to remember her mother giving Petunia lots of water one night, after her graduation party.  Well, that and two Brufen*, which she had no way of providing, so water it would have to be.  Using her wand, she filled a glass and pressed it into his hands.

At her touch, Sirius refocused on her.  “Lily,” he said.

“That’s my name,” said Lily, but Sirius didn’t acknowledge her awkward joke.  Instead, he looked very serious.

“Lily.  There’s something I have to say to you… It’s important.”

Nervously, Lily nodded.

Sirius leaned forward and grabbed her hands in his, which were still very cold.  “I have to tell you… I’m sorry about Muggle Studies.”

“What?”  Whatever Lily had been expecting, it wasn’t that.  Not only had she never heard Sirius Black apologize before, and now to do it over something so small and long ago?  It didn’t make any sense, but Sirius seemed in deadly earnest, his grip on her hands tightening.

“I’m sorry I didn’t present the project with you…  I’m sorry I left you to do it all on your own…  She made me drop it!  But that shouldn’t have mattered.”

“Sirius, it wasn’t a big deal.  I didn’t really care—at least not this much…”  Her words didn’t satisfy Sirius, who continued, voice rising.

“I had a choice—Dumbledore said I could have finished the quarter.  But I made the wrong choice.  I should have done the right thing.  I’m sorry, Lily, I’m sorry!”

Lily was staring at him, mouth slightly open.  Her mind felt like it was spinning, as it worked to fit this drunken, three-years-belated apology into her understanding of Sirius Black.  Slowly, she replied, “It’s okay, Sirius.  It’s okay.  I forgive you…”

Tension drained out of Sirius’ body, and he smiled at her.  “You understand?”

“Yes,” said Lily, slowly, “I think I do.”

“Thank you,” she was starting to say, when the portrait hole opened and in stepped James, Peter, and Remus.

~

All Lily could think was how often the five of them seemed to end up staring blankly at each other in the middle of the night.  After that, it was impossible to focus on anything but the tension building in the room.  James and Peter, neither the focus of said tension, disappeared quickly up the boy’s staircase, but Lily, still holding Sirius’ hands, was trapped.

She had the irrational image of herself frozen like a rabbit in headlights, hoping to avoid danger by remaining very still.  It didn’t work: Remus spoke directly to her, making her flinch and drop Sirius’ hands.  He didn’t seem to notice, fixated as he was on Remus.

“Before you ask, Lily, we didn’t kick him out,” said Remus coolly.  “This was his choice, just like everything else.”

A hint of bitterness crept into his voice, “I was sleeping here myself the first few nights.”  Directing his words at Sirius for the first time, he added, “And I didn’t even have to get drunk to do it.”

Sirius lurched to his feet.  “Moony,” he said desperately, “Moony, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” said Remus, his voice like a lash.  “You don’t get to call me that.  Not anymore.”

Sirius swayed, and for a moment it seemed as though he would give up and sit back down, but he was too far gone for that now.  Instead, he pressed forward recklessly, as if he couldn’t help himself.  “Remus,” he said.  His voice had gone low and husky, but it was no less desperate.

Lily, from where she sat on the sofa, was startled to see the effect it seemed to be having on Remus.  As Sirius stepped closer, the cool, contemptuous façade he’d been wearing for the past week disintegrated before her eyes.  He was looking down at Sirius’ upturned face with nothing but pain on his, like a naked nerve.

“Remus, please,” said Sirius, voice cracking.

“Oh God.”  Remus forced his eyes away from Sirius’ face, looking blindly up at the ceiling, fists clenched at his sides.  “God, Sirius, please don’t, I can’t…”

Sirius, stepping even closer, murmured something too low for Lily to hear.  Whatever it was, it didn’t work.  The hurt on Remus’ face converted to fury, and he staggered back from Sirius, one hand out as if to hold him at arm’s length.  Sirius didn’t move, left standing in the middle of the room, his hands empty.

Remus was breathing hard, as though resisting Sirius was taking a physical toll.  “Sirius,” he started, then, “Black.”  There was a finality to the use of the last name that even Lily felt, but Sirius, it’s target, dropped his head.

“Black.  Don’t you ever touch me again.”  Remus turned and fled back up the staircase.  Or rather, he walked at his normal speed, neither fast nor slow, but Lily recognized it for what it was.

Sirius sat down heavily.  He half crawled, half dragged himself over to the sofa, feeling around on the ground until he came up with a bottle.  Tilting his head back, he attempted to pour whatever was left of it into his mouth.  Lily, watching anxiously, considered trying to take it from him, but in the end it didn’t matter—the bottle was empty.  He let it fall, leaning back against the sofa with his head in his hands.

After a moment, Lily lowered herself to kneel next to him on the ground.  At first she’d thought he might be crying; when he looked up at her his eyes were dry, but the expression on his face might have been worse than tears.

“You know,” he said heavily.  “You know, don’t you.”

Lily thought about what from that night’s events he might possibly mean—it had all been so horrible and private that she felt wrong even remembering it, but she tried.  She thought about Remus saying, ‘don’t touch me!’ and then she thought about Sirius’ hand on the back of Remus’ neck, the night of the attack.  About Remus at the party, blushing while Sirius whispered in his ear.  She thought about the longing on Sirius’ face as he watched Remus at mealtimes.

She looked down at Sirius where he sat, miserable and drunk in the shirt that she bought for him, no secrets left.  “I don’t have to,” she said.  It suddenly felt important to her that he could keep this one thing to himself, if he wanted.  “I don’t have to know.  Not if you don’t want me to…”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Sirius, tipping sideways so that his head was resting on her shoulder, his silky hair tickling her neck.  He breathed out, and she could feel her own hair move with it.  “I ruined it anyway.”

~

The next morning, Lily left the tower much earlier than she usually did.  The effort paid off—she was able to catch Frank at breakfast while the Great Hall was still quiet.

“What’s up, Lily-billy?” said Frank cheerfully.  When she didn’t laugh, he sat up straighter, inviting her to continue.

“I need a favor,” she said bluntly.  There wasn’t a good way to lead into it.  “I need you to let Sirius Black sleep in your dorm.”

It was clear from his expression that it wasn’t anything he’d expected her to ask, but he nodded seriously.  “Of course,” he said.  “That bad, is it?”

Lily felt the relief that came from handing over a responsibility into far more capable hands.  “I think so,” she admitted.  “But Frank, you can’t ask him anything about it, or he won’t go with you.”

“I know.  Don’t worry—I won’t ask.  Except that… Lily, is everyone safe?”

“He’ll be safer if he has a bed to sleep in, but otherwise… I think so?”

Frank sighed.  He looked suddenly like an adult, which is to say he looked tired, rather than how an eighteen-year-old boy eating bacon sandwiches should look.  Lily felt abruptly guilty for adding this to everything else he was dealing with as Head Boy, but as if he heard her fears he smiled at her, exhaustion vanishing.  “I’ll deal with it—thank you for telling me.”

“Cool.”  Lily nodded, and stood to leave the table.

“Lily—” Frank stopped her.  “Before you go… is there anything else you want to talk about?  Are you holding up okay?”

Lily stared at him suspiciously, but his gentle, good-humored face was as guileless as ever.  “No…” she said at last, “there’s nothing.”

Chapter Text

Lily was lying flat on her back on the Gryffindor common room floor, Miles Davis’ Sketches of Spain spinning out over the speakers next to her.*  She wished that she smoked, to give her something to do with her hands while Miles’ trumpet floated by her and curled around the room, hanging in the air like smoke itself.  Maybe she should start.

Lily’s dad had died the summer before second year, a horribly hot and dusty summer, but she always remembered him particularly around Christmas.  It had been her first Christmas home from Hogwarts when her mother had gathered Lily and Petunia together and told them that their father was going to die.  He hadn’t been home for that conversation—he’d been at the hospital for his chemo—and she and her dad had never talked about it, although she sometimes wondered if Petunia had.

Her last clear memory of her father was from that Christmas.  By the summer, he was a frail shadow of himself, almost unrecognizable, and Lily’s brain refused to associate that vacant, angry man with her father.  So it remained that her last memory of her father was of the two of them on Boxing Day, listening to Miles Davis’ new album, Bitches Brew, her sipping fizzy pop out of a wine glass, him with a tall glass of water with a speared olive balanced on top (he wasn’t supposed to drink while undergoing treatments, but he insisted that it was part of the ritual).  She’d inherited the album from him—had inherited all of his records—but she hadn’t tried to play it since.  It had been her Christmas present to him.  Even though Petunia had paid for it, she’d been the one who’d known what to buy.  This year Petunia had paid for their mother to go on vacation—a cruise around the Spanish coast.  She hadn’t asked Lily about it.

As Miles launched into the flamenco-inspired ‘Solea,’ Lily stood and shut the record off.  Her father would have considered that sacrilege.  A jazz record, he believed, deserved to be listened to in its entirety, or not at all.  It was the least a listener could do, he would tell her gravely, to respect the vision of the artist.  Instead, Lily dug around for her ’74 release of 1958 Miles, starting the needle on the third track.  An obsessive jazz purist, her dad hadn’t been too keen on compilation albums, but he’d loved ‘Stella by Starlight,’ and he would have loved to have this recording.  He’d claimed that he’d known he would marry her mother when they were dancing in a club to ‘Stella by Starlight.’  Of course, it couldn’t have been Miles performing it, but Dad never let the facts get in the way of a good story.

At that moment, someone emerged from the boys staircase, yawning and rubbing their eyes, a mundane presence that thoroughly shattered the dreamy landscape Lily and Miles had constructed together.  Lily glared at Sirius Black, who looked surprised to see her there.

“I thought I was the only one staying over Christmas,” he said.

“Clearly not,” said Lily, irritated.

“What are you listening to, then?” he asked, moving closer to try to see the record sleeve.

Lily shut it off with a snap.  “Nothing.”

She could see a flicker of hurt cross his face, and she felt a little bad about being so rude.  After all, he was probably having a lousy Christmas himself, and couldn’t know what he’d interrupted.  But she didn’t feel bad enough to take it back, and they parted awkwardly.

~

It took a few days, but she began to regret shutting down Sirius’ attempt at conversation.  He hadn’t tried again, which meant that she hadn’t had a chance to make it up to him.

There weren’t very many students left in the castle—the only ones she recognized were Sirius, Snape, and some of the other Slytherins.  Even Dumbledore himself was gone, off on some political business that she couldn’t get details on.  With the diminished group, Professor McGonagall had chosen to seat everyone together at the high table for dinners, and while that meant she was able to have some cheerful chatter with certain professors, others, namely Rancourt, glowered at her across the table if her voice ever became too loud or enthusiastic.  It also meant that every dinner forced her, Sirius, and Snape (made bold by the presence of three or four Slytherins in his year) into close proximity, a pressure cooker of tensions that could only end in an explosion.

It was possible that she was lonely.  Two weeks of break was a long time, and despite the group dinners (the good and the bad of them) she was already starting to reach the limits of what she could do, rattling around the castle by herself.  She’d planned to use those weeks to study, but as everyone knows, the more sincerely you plan to study and the more open time you have to study in, the less studying you actually do.  Instead, she spent most of her time ducking Snape, trying and failing to cast non-verbal hexes at pillows, combing obsessively through the library for more articles by Rancourt or Bellatrix Black, rereading the ones she did find over and over until she wanted to throw up, and endlessly modifying her favorite snowflake charm.  It was already almost Christmas when this “routine” was shattered.

Lily was on her way back from the hidden room behind the Richard the Lionheart tapestry, where she had been perfecting a new, unmeltable variation of snowflake summoning.  They were staying cold and intact, even in the small warm room, but over time the flakes would begin to lose their detail, getting blurry and warped.  She’d worked so hard to ensure that the charm would create perfectly symmetrical, entirely unique snowflakes—she wasn’t going to let any further adaptations lose that!  In the enclosed room, she’d lost track of time, and by the time she’d exited it was already dark.  She must have missed dinner as well, and she hoped idly that none of the professors decided that was cause for concern.

Her stomach growled, but she ignored it, turning her feet toward the tower rather than down to the kitchens.  She didn’t think she should be out much longer after dark—despite all of her late-night walks, for some reason she felt less than secure in the castle tonight.  There was an odd feeling to the air, as though something was moving around just out of sight, and then freezing when she looked at directly at it.

It was probably just the cold and the lack of human interaction making her paranoid, Lily told herself logically.  She tried to slow her pace to a confident stroll, hoping that it might slow her heart with it, but it persisted in racing like a rabbit.

It was sheer coincidence that saved her.  Nothing more than stopping to adjust her shoelace and the curse went whistling over her head, burning a long scar across the wall behind her.  And then she was up and running, her wand out and a clumsy shield cast.  Whatever they were sending at her shattered it after two hits, but terror gave her speed, and the brief time it had held allowed her to press forward to the intersection where her corridor met the stairs.

She forced herself to stop running, press flat against the wall, and look carefully before she entered the intersection.  She was glad she did—before her, where the staircase up to Gryffindor tower should be, was nothing but empty space.  She shivered at the thought of how close she’d come, in her panic, to running straight over the edge.

She squinted around through the flickering torchlight, but she couldn’t see her assailant anywhere.  That precluded attack, maybe, but she was good on defense.  Resolute, she cast another shield.  They might not hold up for long under a strong bombardment, but they would still block everything a student would know how to cast.  She could just keep replacing them as long as it took to get back to the tower and to safety.  But as she stepped out into the intersection, she realized too late that she was facing more than one assailant.

The disarming spell hit her from behind, and her wand went spinning off into the darkness.  In horror, she lunged for it, praying that it didn’t go over the edge and down the gap where the staircase should be.  As she did, the follow-up shot from her left passed close enough over her head to make her ears ring.  It shocked her badly enough to make her stumble forward and fall.

On her hands and knees in the corridor, hair falling all around her—Why hadn’t she tied it up? She couldn’t fucking see!—Lily looked up and met Sirius Black’s eyes.

The staircase to the Gryffindor tower moved into view, as smoothly and as unhurried as ever, with Sirius standing at the top of it.

He only looked shocked for a moment, and then he started down the staircase toward her at a run, drawing his wand as he went.  Another spell hit somewhere near Lily’s left hand, and she screamed, rolling to the side.  She was back up on her knees again in an instant, looking frantically for the source of the attack, but when she saw the figure raise his wand, there was nothing she could do—she was still unarmed.

Meanwhile, Sirius was leaping off the still-moving staircase onto the landing before the gap even closed.  “Look out!” Lily yelled at him, but he ignored it.

Wordlessly, the figure in the hall swept their wand down, and a jet of purple light few toward her.  Instinctively, she tried to duck, but the spell never made contact.  Sirius never paused—he ran, head down, until he had thrown himself between the man in the hall and Lily.  The spell caught him in the side and threw him backwards into the wall.  He slid down it to the ground, chillingly silent.

As if it had heard her pleas, Lily’s wand slid into her searching hand.

One of her assailants was shouting to the other, “Just stun them!  Don’t get fucking cute about it,” unaware that the tide had turned against them.

With a snarl, Lily slammed the handle of her wand down against the floor.  “Depulso!”

She gave a panicked look at Sirius as the banishing spell slid him back against the wall, but it had the intended effect.  She heard muffled shouts from at least two directions as people were thrown back by the force of her spell.  The downside was that she’d thrown them too far, and she could no longer see them to attack while they were off balance.  Casting a shield that unfurled in the air behind her, she scrambled across the floor to Sirius.

With the hand not clutching her wand, she shook his arm frantically.  Her shield was holding for now, but it wouldn’t hold long.  Whoever they were, they were hammering on it with everything they had.  And she couldn’t carry him and run.  If he didn’t get up…

Lily didn’t want to think about it, but she forced herself to.  If he didn’t get up, then she would have to let the shield charm expire.  She would stand her ground here, and fight if she had to.  She was struggling to remember what other spells could target more than one opponent, when a cold wand tip pressed under her chin.

She froze.  Her own wand was pointed awkwardly over her own shoulder, maintaining her shield.  She forced herself not to let the shield slip as the wand slid up her throat, tilting her face upward.

This new person was entirely in shadow—most likely a spell—except for the hand holding the wand.  She looked down her nose at the pale hand, but they jabbed painfully into her windpipe until she stopped trying.  Instead, she glared at where she thought their face might be, turning her terror—for herself and for Sirius—into anger, furious to be here on her knees, to have this bastard draw things out, as if they were enjoying it.

Their finger stroked the edge of her jaw and she shuddered.  She opened her mouth to tell them to get on with it already, when a featherlight brush of something touched her ankle.  It tapped once, twice, three times.  Sirius, she thought.

The wand moved away from her throat to point at her head, “Obl—” they started to say, but before they could finish, Sirius and Lily acted.

“Stupefy!” Sirius shouted, as Lily released her shield charm and dropped to the floor on top of him.  She couldn’t see if he’d hit his target, but fast on the heels of his spell came two reductos.  With no shield to block them, they slammed directly into the castle wall, sending a shower of dust and rock into the air.

She swept her wand in a circle, releasing a cloud of thick grey smoke that mingled with the dust in the air, throwing the already dark corridor into an impenetrable fog.  Then they were up and running, as silently as they could.

All around them was confusion, swearing, and shouted curses.  How do you like not being able to see your target, she thought with satisfaction.  Without being told, Sirius was shielding her back, one small and light enough not to be obvious, but hopefully strong enough to deflect any lucky shots.

They’d reached the staircase—or where the staircase should be.  “Hang on,” said Lily.  Sirius dropped his shield and wrapped his arms around her waist just as they reached the edge and she flung them out into space.

“Ascendare!”  And with that they were rising, rising, and then slamming to the ground on the landing above.

~

Sirius let out an involuntary groan as they hit the ground.  Evans crawled over to him, panic on her face, but he forced himself to his feet.  He couldn’t let her worry about him now, not when the fog she’d conjured below them was already dissipating, leaving them an open target.  Or from another perspective, leaving the others equally open.  “How many are there?” he asked.

Frowning, she followed his gaze.  “Too many,” she said.  Running it would be.

They ignored the Fat Lady’s frantic questions in favor of slamming the portrait shut and pressing their backs against it as though someone might force it open behind them.  They stood there, hearts hammering, braced against the portrait, until the adrenaline started to fade and their exhaustion and bruises began to make themselves known.  He rolled his shoulders experimentally.  That was going to be a bitch in the morning.

Peeling themselves off of the wall, they staggered over to the fire and collapsed onto chairs.  They faced each other, still breathing hard.  Evans looked haunted, her eyes enormous, her hair gray with dust from where curses she’d dodged had blown off bits of the wall.  He wondered if he looked equally shell-shocked.  If this was how Remus had looked the night the two of them had been attacked.

Evans looked down at herself, as if to assess the damage.  She had a rip in her stockings, and her knee was bloody underneath it.  Touching the faint scar above his eyebrow, he wondered if he should help her with it, but before he could offer she tapped it with her own wand and the wound closed over.  That was for the best, probably.  He knew a handful of healing charms—enough to get by—but he wasn’t nearly as good at them as Peter was.

The moment seemed paralyzed, somehow, and he wasn’t sure what to do to break it.  The silence stretched out long enough for him to remember to feel uncomfortable around her.  She hadn’t seemed to want to talk to him at the beginning of break, and there was no reason to assume this had changed that.  She probably wanted him gone.

Joints creaking like an old man, Sirius stood.  “I’m heading for a shower, Evans.  Lovely to see you as always.”  He stomped up the stairs, steps painful and heavy with exhaustion.  She watched him leave in silence.

The shower was so good he almost cried.  Maybe more people should give running into walls a try, he thought.  Really makes one appreciate the little things.  Once the water started to get cold, he emerged and began to dress, standing awkwardly in a corner and facing the door to do it.  For some reason, he didn’t like the idea of having his back to the empty room.

It was a similar impulse that drove Sirius back down the stairs, wand in hand, to check that the common room was empty.  It wasn’t.  When he got downstairs, Evans was still on the couch where he left her, still just as dirty as he left her, gazing into the fire as though she hadn’t moved at all.  She looked smaller than she had in the corridor, her skinny shoulders hunched and her hands wrapped around her elbows.

The staircase creaked under him and she flinched, head whipping up and hand flying to her wand.  It was the hunted look in her eyes that made his decision for him.  Maybe Evans didn’t want him around, but he was the best she got.

He walked, loudly and dramatically, over to one of the sofas and threw himself down on it, kicking his feet up and stretching out luxuriously.  “Well, goodnight, Evans.”

When she only stared at him, he sat up to ask, “Going to watch me sleep?”

“You’re not sleeping upstairs?  The boys are all gone…”

“I think I’m over beds,” he said, with a lordly air.   “Not for me.  I’ve moved beyond the need for a bed to sleep in.”

She looked at him thoughtfully while he busied himself fluffing the couch cushions and tried to pretend he didn’t notice her eyes on him.  Eventually he gave up and spoke to her again.  “These sofas are very comfortable…  You might give one of them a try sometime.”

She was still watching him, with an oddly fragile look in her eyes.  “Okay,” she said.  “I might just do that…”  The lightness in her voice was feigned, but it was a start.

She headed up the stairs, presumably to shower herself, and Sirius began to drag a second sofa into the middle of the room next to his.  Evans would freeze if she wasn’t at least this close to the fire, after all.  He was almost asleep by the time she came down, but he could still feel her stop and stand next to him for a long moment.  He was about to open his eyes and ask her what the hell she wanted now, when she dropped a blanket on his feet.  When he did open his eyes, she was already curled up on the sofa facing him, fast asleep.

Chapter Text

By unspoken agreement, Lily and Sirius continued to sleep in the common room together for the rest of break.  The closest they came to acknowledging why was an offhand comment by Sirius that things had been boring, alone in the boys dorms, but Lily was achingly, pathetically grateful, both for his presence and for his silence.

By the time the other students were due back, the sleeping arrangements had transformed from two couches pulled side by side to a magisterial blanket fort, stretching across the entire common room, over eight feet tall in some places and involving almost every available piece of furniture.  The house elves, taking pity on them, left the structure untouched, cleaning around it instead (and sometimes folding clothes and blankets scattered across the floor).

They had tried, initially, to build the fort muggle-style, but as neither of them had much experience in the way of blanket fort construction (Petunia being somewhat of a neat freak and Sirius’ mum being… everything that she was), they were eventually required to reinforce its sagging roof and collapsing walls with magic.

Of course, they couldn’t spend all of their time expanding and improving their pillow fort, or—in Sirius’ case—complaining bitterly about the lack of snow.  They ventured out to the grounds once or twice, but it was a sore disappointment.  The ground was rock hard and the air had a stiff, frozen quality, but despite the cold there was no snow forthcoming.  It seemed doomed to be a dry, gray Christmas.

Sirius finally had his chance to test Lily’s movie system, and to give his opinion on both of the movies she had available.  By the end of the week, they’d watched Dog Day Afternoon four times and Carrie twice.*  Lily, munching on a licorice wand she’d dug out of Marlene’s desk, was hopeful that Marlene’s brothers would be able to go record some new movies for them over break.  One of them was a curse-breaker for the ministry, who cleaned up inheritances before they could be safely taken possession of and things like that.  Apparently he was good with charms, and they could rely on him for the priori incantatem portion of the process.  Ignoring her, Sirius queued up Dog Day Afternoon for a fifth time, but Lily—pushed to the limit of her endurance—rebelled, tackling him to the floor with a yell.

~

They tried getting drunk the second night.  Sirius apparently had access to an extraordinary assortment of wizarding liquors, underage or no, and Lily figured that now would be as good a time as any to test the soporific abilities of alcohol.  She’d woken up with a jolt four times the previous night, before she’d finally given up and sat awake, watching the soothing regularity of Sirius’ breathing.  Soothing for an hour or two, at least, before he’d woken himself up swinging at some dreamed threat.  They’d stared at each other, wary, as the thin gray light of dawn crept across the room.  And then they’d snuck down to the kitchens for an early breakfast, and they didn’t talk about it.

At first the drinking was fun.  They started by mixing firewhiskey into their butterbeer, in an approximation of the boilermakers Lily’s uncles used to drink after work.  Sirius was particularly delighted with the process of dropping the shot into the drink so that it foamed up, making them much faster than Lily could drink.

“You’re like me with marshmallows,” she said, between gulps.  “I always liked toasting them more than eating them.”

“Toasting what?” asked Sirius.  So obviously they had to toast marshmallows.  The only problem—well, there were multiple problems.  But the main problem was that they didn’t have any marshmallows to toast.  Sirius tried transfiguring a hard candy into one, but since he was going off of Lily’s vague descriptions (they’re soft, they’re white… well, I don’t know if that even matters…) the end product was dubious.

The next option, of course, was the kitchens.  Tipsily, Lily and Sirius set off out the portrait hole to the sounds of the Fat Lady’s lecture on the evils of dissipation.  Too eager to find a marshmallow, they hadn’t thought to bring their coats, and shortly the chill of stone corridors appeared to them why this might be a fool’s errand.  Luckily, Sirius knew a short cut, or Lily would have abandoned the mission then and there.

In the warmth of the kitchens, drinking hot cocoa (spiked from a flask Sirius produced), they were dismayed to discover that there were no marshmallows available.  Apparently it wasn’t just wizards raised in a bizarre combination of public schooling and feudalism, like Sirius, that didn’t toast marshmallows, but all wizards.

“But you have hot cocoa!” said Lily indignantly.  She was certain that any respectable establishment would have marshmallows for their cocoa.

“They go on cocoa too?” asked Sirius.  “The plot thickens…”  He stroked his bare chin for emphasis, squinting around the kitchen as though he suspected anything might be a marshmallow in disguise.

“Is this a marshmallow?  Is this?”  He circled the room slowly, lunging suddenly for different objects and brandishing them in Lily’s face.  Lily, who was laughing too hard to speak, was pretty sure that there had never been anything in the history of the world more difficult to describe than a marshmallow.

“Answer me, Evans!  I demand a marshmallow, and I will not be leaving these kitchens until I receive satisfaction!”  He pretended to pick up a telephone—and wasn’t that a sight, Sirius Black earnestly using the same fake hand gesture that muggles around the world used to mime being on the phone.  “I want a helicopter to get us out of here!  And a jet to take us to Algeria!  And a marshmallow!”**

“Is that supposed to be Al Pacino?”

Sirius dropped the fake phone to his chest, looking injured.  “Obviously it’s Sonny!”

Lily considered trying to explain, again, that a movie was more like a play, where the people in it were only actors, and not like a wizard photograph of real people, but she was too drunk to get into it again.  Or possibly she just wasn’t drunk enough.

The house elves, who were becoming less and less amused by the intrusion into their domain, thrust a package of close to fifty meringues into their hands, using it to push them backwards and out the door.

Ejected into in the hallway, Sirius held up the meringues for Lily’s approval.  She shrugged.  “Close enough.”

Back in the common room, they discovered that meringues are an incredibly difficult dessert to toast over a fire.  Nursing several burnt fingers, they moved on to an elf-made wine that, judging by the bottle, was far too expensive for a couple of teenagers to be drinking.

“Eh, drink up,” said Sirius, when questioned on it.  “It’s all stuff I nicked from my dad’s liquor cabinet.  He’s been dead for years now, but no one’s bothered to clear out his rooms.  Lucky for us, though, innit?”  Lily wasn’t quite sure if it was lucky for them, but she drank the wine anyway.

The next morning, however, found her moaning into the boy’s toilet, dry heaving like she was trying to cough up her own intestines.  Sirius, she noticed resentfully, was perfectly chipper, and he laughed mercilessly at her from the doorway.

Lily raised bleary eyes to his face.  “No more drinking!”

~

The next day was Christmas.  When Sirius jolted awake, Lily was watching him closely.  It was weird how normal it already felt, waking up and seeing her face peering over at him, but at least this time it didn’t seem to be because of nightmares.  As he sat up, rubbing his eyes, she bounced up and down a little with barely controlled excitement.

“I got you a present,” she said, singsong.

“Hell, Evans—come any closer and anyone would think you’d been violating me in my sleep.”

“Get up,” she begged.  “Come see your present!”

He felt momentarily awkward.  “You know I didn’t get you shit, right?”

“That doesn’t matter—what’s important is that I got you a present!  So…”  She gestured around the room triumphantly.

“Alright, then,” he said, her excitement starting to infect him.  “Where is it?”

“It’s outside the fort,” she said, ducking outside of the blankets.  Cursing as he caught his foot in the sheets, he stood and followed her.

When he emerged from the sheltering cocoon of the fort, the common room around them was blindingly bright.  At first he thought it was just the sun streaming in through the high tower windows, but as his eyes adjusted he realized the light was reflecting, dazzling, off of the mounds of glittering white substance that covered the floor and heaped over chairs and tables.  For a moment he stared at it, unable to tell what he was seeing, and then, “Evans, is that snow?”

“Ta-da!” she said, sweeping some off the table next to her and into the air in a gesture of showmanship.  “It’s a white Christmas!  Happy Christmas!”

He leaned forward and prodded it experimentally.  It was snow, alright—cold and fluffy and made up of thousands of individual glittering flakes—but it didn’t seem to melt at his touch.  He looked back at Evans, who was making patterns in the tabletop with her finger, trying to appear as if she didn’t care what he thought of it.  Well, there was only one thing to do with snow, after all.  Bending his knees like an Olympian sprinter, he launched himself forward to tackle her into one of the sparkling drifts.

~

The sixth day they snuck into Hogsmeade.  They’d run out of butterbeer, and Lily (read: Marlene’s desk) had run out of chocolate frogs, and they both agreed it was criminal to expect them to go without chocolate frogs on Christmas.  No matter that Christmas had been days ago.  Sirius once again insisted that she closed her eyes to enter and exit his secret passage, but she flat out refused to keep her eyes covered for the long walk through the tunnel.  “Considering what a shite job you do as a guide dog,” Lily had argued, although she wasn’t sure why Sirius laughed so hard.

As they walked through the dark, featureless passage, Lily found herself anxious that the conversation might die, without anything around them—like a movie, or alcohol—to piggyback off of.  There were so many things that they were avoiding talking about, after all.  But to her pleasant surprise, that didn’t seem to be the case.  They were in the middle of an impassioned debate over David Bowie’s most recent persona, The Thin White Duke^†, when they reached the end of the tunnel and Sirius clapped his hands back over her eyes.

This time around, Lily was pretty sure she’d figured out where in Hogsmeade the tunnel emerged, although she wasn’t about to try to run her theory by Sirius and let him misdirect her some more.  You never knew when it might come in handy to surprise everyone with your knowledge of a secret route into Hogwarts, hidden behind Zonko’s.

They wandered around in the watery winter sunshine, arguing over what purchases to make first, before they caved to the bitter cold and ducked into the Three Broomsticks for a drink.  Rosemerta, like so many other Hogsmeade shop-owners, was willing to turn a blind eye to unauthorized students in the village as long as they were also paying customers.  The pub was busy enough with holiday tourists that they couldn’t get a booth.  Instead, they sat at the bar and spun each other on the tall red bar stools until Rosemerta threatened to stick their bottoms to them permanently and use them as cup hooks.  Chastened, they attempted to finish their butterbeers in dignified silence, but Sirius’ little pinky sticking out as he sipped kept making Lily crack up, and they were eventually tossed out in favor of less disruptive clientele.

They were walking back from Honeydukes, competing to see who could blow the biggest bubbles with Drooble’s Best, when Sirius suddenly went rigid beside her.  Lily’s wand was in her hand before her brain caught up, but before she could ask him what was wrong she saw it on her own.  With her dark hair piled high like a crown and her dark green robes sweeping the ground, Bellatrix Black was walking down the street, straight toward them.

Lily wasn’t sure if they’d been seen or not, but she didn’t want to waste time finding out.  Seizing Sirius’ arm, she wheeled them both around to stare at the window of the shop they were passing, backs to the street.  She hoped it would be enough.

Apparently it was, since Black—Lestrange?—passed them by without a word.

Lily blinked at the glass storefront before them, seeing it for the first time.  Was it selling baby dolls?  Weird.  The immediate threat might have left, but she could still feel the muscles of Sirius’s arm tensing under her hand.  “Sirius,” she started, but he cut her off, leaning close and speaking low out of the corner of his mouth.

“She’s going into La Folie right now… What the bloody fuck is she doing here, anyway?”

“I’ve seen her here before,” Lily admitted, risking a glance up at his face.  It was stormy, but she could see him thinking about her words.

“She’s been coming often, then?  But why…”  His face changed again, suddenly fierce.  “We have to go after her.”

“What?  No!  Sirius, are you crazy?  What if she sees you…” Lily couldn’t have said why she was so concerned about Sirius meeting his oldest cousin, but she knew in her bones that nothing good would come of an encounter between Sirius and his family.

“We have to follow her—see what she’s up to.  If she’s here… it’s not good, is what it is.”  He spoke as if to himself, “and of course, the bloody cloak’s still up at the castle, with no time to fetch it… She’d spot me a kilometer away, even if…”

“Sirius,” said Lily, recapturing his attention.  “Just look at me, would you?  And hold still.”  She brought her wand down hard on the top of his head.  The disillusionment charm spread across him—it was always such a strange thing to watch—and within moments he was clear as water, hard to see even from as close as she was to him.

“There,” she said, pocketing her wand.  “It won’t hold up to close inspection, but you should be able to stay unobserved…”

“It won’t work,” he said.  It was so peculiar the way the charm rippled as his face moved, but without a face to look at.  It also made it impossible to see his expression, obscuring his meaning.

She frowned at him.  “What’s wrong?  Now you can follow her in and just, I guess stand in a corner or something?  You have to hold still as much as possible, but since she’s sitting to eat and not walking anywhere, that shouldn’t be an issue…”

“No, that’s not it.  I can’t do a disillusionment charm—you wouldn’t be able to come in with me.”

So his problem with the plan wasn’t a practical one, but that he didn’t want to go spy on his family without her.  Lily was bizarrely touched to hear it.  “Okay, let me think.”  She squinted over at the restaurant.  “Well, at the very least, let’s go peek in the windows?  Maybe you can see who she’s meeting or something…”

They walked over to the building slowly, and then ducked around the back.  It had a high wall surrounding a back garden that was enchanted to be filled with perpetual summertime.  Sirius didn’t want to risk touching the wall, in case of setting off alarms, but there was a conveniently low-hanging tree with branches that draped over the garden.

“Obvious security risk,” he scoffed, “but some people are too married to their aesthetics…”

Lily, who was boosting him up to the lowest branch (a task not made easier by his pseudo-invisibility) had some choice words about what he should be focusing on right then.

“Stay out of sight,” he warned, turning on the branch to look back at her.  Or at least, that’s what she thought he was doing.  Her charms really were impeccable—for all she could tell, that was his ass and not his face pointed at her.  “Hang on,” he said, then, “muffliato.  Now we can talk without being heard.”

He scrambled up the trunk and then, flat on his stomach, inched his way along a thick branch until he was peering over the wall.  “She’s here, alright… I can’t hear anything they’re saying though—damn.  They’re bringing the rest of the party to her table now…”  His voice had an odd, echoey quality to it, like being inside a bubble.

“They’re sitting down… I can see Mulciber… Nott… Travers… Parkinson… and…”  His voice broke off suddenly.  A sense of foreboding settled heavily around her shoulders, creeping up the back of her neck.

“And who else,” she said.

His rippled outline was very still.  He was almost impossible to see, against the blue sky and bare branches.  If she didn’t know he was there, she would never have been able to tell.

“And Snape,” he said, finally.  “He’s there too.”

It was a shock to hear his name.  Not shock like a surprise, but like a shockwave: invisible, but passing through her with enough force to break bone.  If he was here with them now, eating dinner in a restaurant she knew he couldn’t afford, then he’d been with them before.  It didn’t matter which before, she told herself firmly.  Whether it was a week ago or whether it had been some other girl in some other hallway, it was the same thing, in the end.

She leaned back against the base of the tree and studied the beautiful afternoon sky, the softest baby blue, lacerated by spikey dark branches.  When would the betrayals stop hurting so much? she wondered.  Apparently, not yet.

Sirius slithered down the trunk of the tree and dropped into the dirt.  Her charm was starting to fade—the edges of his body were more distinct than they had been a quarter of an hour ago.  They walked in silence along the row of houses and back to the low stone wall that curved around the field behind Zonko’s, where she removed the last of the disillusionment charm.  His handsome face reappeared in patches, a more welcome sight than she expected it to be.

He was studying her intently.  “Wanna get drunk?” he said.

Yes.  But before she answered, she looked at him, scrutinizing.  There was something feverish in his eyes that gave her pause.  “No,” she said firmly.  “I don’t.”

They watched Carrie again.  They didn’t talk about it.

~

For New Year’s Eve, they planned to release their own fireworks from the roof of the astronomy tower.  Sirius wasn’t sure how he’d managed to talk Evans into this, but it probably wasn’t by telling her that they’d modified some of the fireworks and subsequently forgotten which ones.

“You WHAT?”  Evans, wrapped in a long suede coat with a ridiculous wool collar, had ceased positioning the fireworks on the ramparts in favor of staring at him in horror.

“Oops?” he tried, giving her his most charming grin, but Evans appeared unaffected.  She lit her wand, holding it a pointed distance from one of the firework’s fuses.

“They probably do something really fun and harmless!  Come on, Evans—don’t you trust us?”

She glowered at him.  “The more you talk, the less I want to go through with this.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Literal death, Black!”

“You’re no fun, Evans… what’s life without a little risk?”  Evans was looking less impressed with him by the second, so he cast around for a compromise.

Five minutes later, they were leaning around their makeshift barricade to shoot flames at the fireworks from an agreed upon “safe distance” of six meters.  The flaw in this plan, they were quickly realizing, was that neither of them were a very precise shot.  There were flames flying haphazardly all over the tower, caught by the wind in unpredictable ways, and still none of the fireworks had gone off. 

Evans shouted at him, “I’m starting to think this was the stupider option,” just as one of their jets of flame hit a fuse.  They held their breath, watching as it slowly crept upward, before—BANG!

Evans let out a scream of delight, torn away by the whipping wind.  The firework spread out across the sky like a thick blanket of diamonds and lingered, quivering, before each individual spark began to slowly detach itself and fall, as if they were standing inside a meteor shower.  Transfixed, she put out her hand, and the light passed harmlessly through it.

“Did you make this?” she asked, a childlike wonder in her voice.

“No…” Sirius cleared his throat—his voice was sounding a little thick.  “No, this was one of James’.”

She looked at him strangely, her face still lit up silver from the falling stars.  “Potter made this?”

“Yeah.”  He grinned.  “Bet you can’t guess which ones are mine!”

~

The last night, the night before the rest of the castle returned, they got high.  Lily dug some of Dorcas’ pot out of her stash inside her left bedpost, queued up Dark Side of the Moon, and they laid on their backs in their blanket fort, watching the movement of soft lights and snowflakes Lily had conjured to swirl around above them.  “Is like a lil’ snow globe,” said Sirius, dreamily.

“Do wizards have snow globes?” Lily asked.

“Moony had one,” said Sirius.  The strongest effect of the joint they were splitting, as far as she could tell, was to banish the tortured look he usually had on his face when he said that stupid nickname.  It was well worth the lecture she was going to get from Dorcas later.  “I broke it in second year,” he added.  She’d spoken too soon—the guilt was back in his voice again.  Well, can’t fault a girl for trying, she thought, passing it back.

A couple of hits later, she felt that maybe the atmosphere was right for another attempt.  “I know you miss them,” she tried.

Sirius grunted, staring fixedly at the blanket above them.

“I know they miss you too…”

He rolled onto his side and said, in a much more sober voice than she’d credited him for, “And I know that you’re the one who told Frank to find me a bed in the seventh year dorms.”

Damn.  She swore under her breath, eyes darting back to the celling in a panic.  He’d got her with that one.  “So?” she said, with an attempt at nonchalance.

“So, stop bloody helping, Evans.  Just leave it be.”

Perhaps he had been going to turn away, but impulsively she rolled onto her side, putting her hand out and catching his wrist.  He stilled, and they lay there, curled toward each other.  As she looked at him, the words slipped out, the question that had been on the tip of her tongue all week.  “What did you do?”

He stared back at her, the sadness on his face deep enough that she wanted to give it a bigger word, like grief.  “Something bad,” he whispered at last.  She thought about what Marlene had said, about the Blacks being cursed.  About Dorcas, shuddering and wondering what he might be capable of.  His sadness might be old, but right now he sounded very young.

He hadn’t hesitated, stepping in front of that curse for her.  He hadn’t hesitated at all.  She couldn’t let herself forget that.  Maybe he was right and she should stop trying to fix things, but she couldn’t help herself, not faced with this.  “But they’ll forgive you, right?  They’re your best friends—they love you.”

He rolled away, pulling his wrist out of her loose grip and folding his hands across his stomach.  “Maybe some things shouldn’t be forgiven.”  His eyes, dark and knowing, flicked back across her face.  “Isn’t that right, Evans?”

There wasn’t much to say to that.  They lay in silence, passing the joint back and forth slowly.  But silence could never last long between them.  Lily was the one to break it, a helpless giggle startled out of her as the opening alarm clocks of ‘Time’ began blaring out of her speakers.

“Really, Evans?  Laughing at my pain now?”

“No… nooo… I’m sorry, it’s just… The clocks are so stupid!” 

Sirius’ laugh burst out to join hers.  “Tell me, are you seeing the universe yet, Evans?”

“We get it!  It’s called ‘Time’!  There’s clocks!”

“You just have to open your mind, Evans.  Expand that third eye, or whatever they teach you in Divination.”

“Didn’t you take Divination to OWL level?”

“Indeed I did,” said Sirius smugly.  “And that is how come I am being enlightened by this experience, while you flounder around in the mundane, unable to attain the level of Roger Waters and I.”

She controlled her giggles with an effort, in order to match his mock-serious tone.  “And what is the universe telling you, Sirius?”

He looked at her sideways and took a long drag, letting the smoke trail out in curls around his face.  “Why, Evans… the universe IS an alarm clock.”

Chapter Text

With the return of the rest of the student body, whatever fragile equilibrium Lily and Sirius had reached over winter break was shattered.  It wasn’t clear whose decision it was, but in the same unspoken way they had begun their friendship, they stopped it.  Sirius was back to spending meals alone, watching his friends laugh four seats down, and Lily was back to pacing the castle at night, avoiding being alone any place Snape might be able to approach her, and embarrassing herself in Defense.  The whole break, from the attack to the pillow fort, felt like a bizarre dream, a surreal interlude with no relevance to her daily life.

Except that she’d gotten used to him.  When Marlene triumphantly added a new movie—The Pink Panther Strikes Again—to their collection, the first thing Lily could think was that Sirius would be thrilled.  Or when Dorcas asked, testily, if all Lily did over break was smoke their stash and eat Marlene’s chocolate frogs, Lily wanted to find Sirius, if only to point out to him how much he owed her for taking the lecture on his behalf.  Today’s Prophet contained a sickening article, co-authored by Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, enraged at the “perversion of sacred wizarding rituals,” that was, apparently, the Hogwarts inclusion of muggleborns in Halloween celebrations.  Lily wanted to ask Sirius if his family kept the traditional guising and mummers plays that she’d attended with Marlene.  She wanted to tell him about her grandma, and the muggle traditions that were so similar to his.  For some reason she thought he’d find it interesting that muggles and wizarding traditions might be the same, and she suddenly wanted to hear his enthusiasm for muggle culture very badly.  They’d never gotten to try marshmallows—her mum had sent her some, but they were still sitting on Lily’s desk, unopened.

However she felt, he didn’t seem to have the same impulse, any desire for her company obviously swept away by the much bigger and more demanding loss of his real friends.

“What was it even like, just having you two in the house over break?” asked Mary, catching Lily glancing down the table at Sirius yet again.  “Ooh, tell me you snogged at least once!”

“Tell me you didn’t, please,” said Dorcas in exasperation.  “The last thing our year needs to round out the holidays is James Potter’s arrest for homicide.”  Dorcas dropped James Potter’s name into the conversation a little too carelessly for Lily’s taste, especially when the boy himself was sitting only a few seats down, cheerful and tanned from two weeks in Zanzibar with his mother’s family.  Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice the turn their conversation had taken, but the possibility only added to Lily’s bad mood.

“Obviously not,” said Lily, irritated.  “Dorcas, you at least should know enough to know Mary’s crazy…”

“Yeah, well,” said Dorcas, shrugging, “you never know.  And you’re being super weird about him.”

“Exactly!”  Mary, vindicated, began listing evidence.  “You’re staring at him all the time, and you jumped down Marly’s throat the other day, when she was talking about the Black Curse…”

“That’s because that ‘family curse’ stuff is bollocks and you know it!  Merlin, Mary, I thought you were on my side with that one.”

“Well,” she stretched out the word non-committally.  Lily glared at her, and she rushed to explain.  “I mean, that’s obviously not how insanity works exactly, but we don’t know—some of these old pureblood families, maybe there are curses that can be inherited!  Marlene would know more about that than you or me—”

Dorcas jumped in.  “Curse or no, you can’t deny that something’s not right with that bloke.”

“Why don’t you all just lay off!” Lily snapped.  Her voice was louder than she’d intended it to be, and it drew the attention of other students, including Sirius himself.  He looked up at her with a question in his eyes.  Lily had no answer she wanted to give, and his face shuttered again.

“Like that!” said Mary, undeterred.  “What was that about?”

Marlene had been preoccupied with breakfast this whole time, but by now had cleared enough of her plate to feel like weighing in.  “You’re being almost as weird about him as you are about James.”

“Now you’ve done it,” muttered Mary.

Lily ignored her to focus on Marlene.  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” said Marlene, turning back to her plate, clearly disinterested in the effect her words were having on Lily.  “You’re obsessed with him, but you bite the head off of anyone who mentions him.  Like that.”

Dorcas backed Marlene up instantly—one of the least enjoyable side effects of them getting together was that no matter how much they might bicker, they would always take each other’s side in any argument with anyone else.  “She’s right, Lily, and it’s driving us all mad.  Either shag him or move on already.”

James’ loud, warm laugh floated up the table to them from where he was sitting with Remus, Peter, and Peter’s new Hufflepuff girlfriend.  Lily could feel herself react to it, and she could see Marlene and Dorcas clock her reaction, exchanging small, knowing glances.  It made her want to scream.

“Yeah, because none of my reasons for hating Potter could possibly be valid—I obviously form all of my opinions based on repressed sexual attraction!  I should use a sensible metric, like who’s going to win me the Quidditch Cup!  Well I hope we lose it!”  Lily was throwing things into her bag as she spoke.  There was a hot wave of rage advancing upwards in her chest, and she needed to leave before it reached her mouth.

“That’s a bitchy thing to say today, of all days,” said Dorcas.

“Good,” said Lily, standing up from the table at last.  “Maybe then you’ll all get sick of pretending like you know anything.”

~

Patrols that evening were conducted in a startlingly empty castle.  It wasn’t until she and Black passed by a window that looked out onto the quidditch pitch that Lily remembered there was a match today—and by the looks of it, it was still going on.  She felt guilty, looking back on that morning.  Marlene never seemed to get nervous before matches, but it couldn’t have been the best lead-up to a game.  Lily was pretty sure Gryffindor must be playing, but she couldn’t even remember who they were supposed to be facing.

“Did you have a good break?” asked Black, breaking through Lily’s thoughts and single-handedly putting an end to the silence they’d been stewing in for the past hour.

“It was alright.  Yours?” said Lily, automatically, before registering what had happened.

“Delightful,” said Black with a smile.

Lily stared at her, but she was already turning the corner.  After the last time they’d tried conversation, Lily would have been content to never exchange another pair of sentences with the girl, and she’d thought Black felt the same.  Apparently she’d changed her mind.  Lily narrowed her eyes, walking quickly to catch up.  What was she after?

They exchanged a handful of inanities about their respective Christmases and the homework Professor Rancourt had set, but Lily’s mind was racing underneath them, trying to guess her game.  It was possible, she conceded, that Black was simply bored—patrolling for hours in silence would wear on anybody.  But Lily hadn’t forgotten her scathing comments about “trash,” or the haughty air she brought to rounds.  Possible, but unlikely.

Whatever reason Black had for lowering herself to speak to Lily, Lily would do what she could with it.  She might not know anything, but Lily couldn’t let an opportunity to feel her out pass by.  “I saw your sister, you know,” said Lily, deliberately casual.

 “Who?  Andy?”

“Your other sister, then.  Bellatrix.  She was in Hogsmeade around New Year’s.”

Black’s serene expression vanished, and for once she looked frustrated—Lily had struck a nerve, then.  What nerve exactly she couldn’t be sure, but she chased after it.  “I would have thought she would be too busy with your visit to come all the way to Hogwarts—are you saying you weren’t invited along?”

“And how was Hogwarts?” said Black, her voice adding layers to the question.  “Peaceful?”

Lily stared at her, then, “You knew!”

Black allowed one corner of her lips to lift delicately where Lily could still see it, a taunt, before turning away in dismissal.  But Lily, furious, would not be dismissed.  “Did you plan it?  What, I piss you off once or twice on rounds, you think I’m getting uppity, and so you sic those brutes on me?  Hey, I’m talking to you—”

She stepped in front of Black just as they rounded the corner.  Black might be taller, but Lily stood her ground.  “Answer me,” Lily said fiercely, “was I the target?  Or was Sirius?”

She had the rare pleasure of seeing Narcissa Black rattled.  “Sirius?  What about him?”

“He was there,” said Lily.  “He was there, he was hit—he could have been killed!”

She couldn’t tell if Black was actually upset over Sirius, or just upset that she hadn’t known about it.  “Don’t try to tell me you care about him—” Lily was sneering, when something on the wall over Black’s head caught her eye.

It was another one.  LEAVE OR DIE MUDBLOODS it read, with the same picture of a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth.  At first Lily thought the snake might be moving, but then she realized it was only dripping slowly—the paint must still be wet.

“What,” said Black, and Lily mutely pointed in response.  “Oh.”  Black glanced behind her, saw the message, then turned back to watch Lily closely.  There was no reaction evident on her face.

She’s not surprised at all, Lily thought.  She knew it would be here.

Black, apparently satisfied by Lily’s expression, turned around to face the wall again.  “Oh no!  How awful!  We should call the teachers right away!”

Slughorn showed up and bustled about, tut-tutting and commenting on what a nasty business this all was.  Lily managed to respond to his concern—probably well intentioned—as best as she could.  Black’s high, false distress was drilling its way into her brain.

The snake had dripped so much by the time Slughorn arrived that it was almost unrecognizable, and he frowned at it.  “How peculiar,” he said, in the begrudging tones he directed at anyone and anything “unpleasant.”

“Can’t imagine what this person was trying to do—seems slightly touched, to be painting on walls and such.”  He flicked his wand, and the paint vanished without a trace.

Lily, who had been resigning herself to explaining to Slughorn how to brew the antidote that would erase this type of paint, was startled.  But the truth sank in, with a slow and inevitable pressure.  They hadn’t bothered to make it permanent this time, and the paint itself had only recently been applied, because they didn’t care about everyone seeing it.

She stared at Black’s elegant profile, her glittering hair.  She looked more like Sirius than Lily had ever noticed, but the person she looked the most like was her sister.  Lily looked back up at the blank stone wall, a familiar coldness wrapping her up in its arms again.  This message was just for me.

~

Upon Lily’s arrival back at the common room she was thrust out of her dark thoughts and into a disorienting collection of lights and noise.  “We won, then, I take it,” she said bitterly to Mary.

“You weren’t at the match—are you still so angry with Marlene?” asked Mary, looking distressed.

“No,” Lily snapped.  “I had bloody prefect rounds—it’s not like I was off sulking in a corner.  I had shit to do.”   She didn’t want to admit that she’d simply forgotten.  Something as simple and pointless as Quidditch seemed to belong to another world, one where Narcissa Black didn’t plot to have Lily assaulted in corridors, and where Mudblood wasn’t smeared across the walls.

“Oh?  How’s that going then?” asked Mary.  Apparently they’d both decided to ignore the fact that Lily could easily have come to the first four or so hours.  It had, if James Potter’s triumphant shouts were to be believed, been a marathon of a match.

Lily was rational enough to see that this was generous of Mary, but she wasn’t in a good enough mood to appreciate it.  Especially when she had no idea how to respond to Mary’s innocent question.

A recently acquired instinct drove her to look for Sirius in the crowd, wondering how he was coping with being at a party attended by so many people he couldn’t speak to.  It had taken his falling-out with his closest friends for her to realize that it was James who was the popular one, and all these people were James’ friends, not Sirius’.  He probably went to the match, she thought.  He wouldn’t forget that his friends had an important event, even if they weren’t speaking to each other.  But whether or not he’d been at the match, he wasn’t anywhere to be seen at the party.

Mary had long since given up on talking to Lily, and had moved on to the drinks table.  Lily thought about going to find Marlene to apologize, or congratulate her, or both, but she wasn’t sure how sorry she was yet.  Instead, she stared out across the party, brooding.

Someone (probably Mary) had charmed a ball of light so that it would change color with the music.  Right now it was blue, lighting up people’s faces as if they were underwater.  It caught in James’ hair, where he was sitting with a fifth year girl on his lap, gesturing to Peter with a plate of food.  As she watched, the light changed to a throbbing red, spilling across the walls and people, turning them bloody and sinister.  Nobody else seemed to notice the change—James continued laughing, bowing to the applause, half joking, half real, that the crowd around him was providing.  The scarlet skull, its dripping snake, seemed to pulse in the red behind Lily’s eyes whenever she blinked.

~

Lily slept late the next morning, late but restless, besieged by dreams of Sirius transforming into bloody snakes and eating everything in her house.  Or, those were the ones she remembered.  The other ones shook her awake, hand flying to her wand, drenched with sweat.  Those ones she never remembered.

The dream that finally woke her had left her face wet with tears, and with no memory of where they’d come from.  Unsettled, Lily moved to shower and dress, hopeful that the feeling of the dream would fade in time.

Whatever grief moved her dream-self to tears had dissipated by the time she emerged from the girls dorms, but it left behind a feverish energy running under her skin.  She felt like a live wire, desperate for anything that would ground her and let the charge she carried run harmlessly into the earth.  It was probably good the other girls had left by the time she got up, she thought.  At this rate, they’d never have made it out of the dorm without a fight.  As it turned out, she didn’t make it out of the tower.

Considering that lunch must have started already, the common room was surprisingly full.  Possibly other students, ones who’d had more fun at the party than she had, had also slept late.  Marlene and Mary were at one of the tables, playing a subdued game of exploding snap.  And James Potter was holding court by the fireplace, talking through a play-by-play of a goal he’d scored in hour eight.  It was as if he hadn’t moved at all.

“Great match for recruiters to have seen—if they had been going to come to anything this year, I’m glad it was this one.  Marathons like that really showcase a chaser’s value, you know?”

Apparently, whoever he was talking to did know, since he continued full steam.  “Well, when I spoke with them, they said as much.  Looking for the next Tanner, or Lynch, everyone is—and who knows?  Maybe one of us could end up playing for England someday…”

As if he could feel her staring, his head turned from the girl he was talking to, pulled toward her by her gaze.  He met her eyes, trailing off as he did so.  It wasn’t any different from a thousand other things she’d heard him say, but for some reason she could feel something in her chest snap, that sharp and sudden.

Her mouth opened, almost an afterthought.  “No, keep going, Potter,” she said.  “I hear recruiters are looking for a player who can stretch out the bragging from an eight hour match for at least sixteen continuous hours.”

She relished it, the look on his face—shock at her even speaking to him, then the anger as her words registered.  The broken place in her chest was leaking acid into her blood, filling her up with angry heat.  When he snapped back at her, she was ready for him.

It felt good, throwing herself into an argument with Potter again, finally getting the chance to say the things that had been sitting inside of her, dead weight, for months.  She couldn’t remember what had stopped her from saying them in the first place.

Even better was hearing him respond with cutting comments of his own, voice loud with anger.  Him responding at all, instead of just staring at her with that stupid, pained look on his face like he had been all year.  It felt so good, in fact, that she was able to ignore all the ways in which it felt awful.  Either way, she’d gone too far to stop now.

Chapter Text

Sirius, unexpectedly, was the one to find her after.  She’d cycled through the stages of embarrassment and guilt, and was building back up into a second wind of rage, remembering everything she should have said, or should have phrased more cuttingly, when Sirius approached her.  All it took was him settling against the window next to her, and she was off again, delivering all of those newly-constructed arguments to the wrong target.

"He thinks that just because he doesn't call me mudblood that he's different.  That that’s all it is—being called a name—and not… not…  Not my life."  She finished almost desperately, cursing herself for having opened up this topic with Sirius Black of all people.  Not that they hadn’t become some odd kind of friends of late.  But a friendship mostly born from lack of options, she thought cynically, was no competition for whatever he and James had.  And no matter what their break-up had been about, it didn't mean Sirius would be willing to entertain criticism of someone he so clearly still cared about.

But what she’d started back in the common room seemed impossible to stop, it was spewing out of her, an endless pileup of terrible words that appeared in her mouth with no regard for the appropriateness of time and setting.  "Potter has absolutely everything a person could have in this world.  He’s popular, he’s funny, he's rich, he's talented—honestly, he's brilliant, I might as well just say it—he's loved, and, and…"  She stuttered for a moment, and then spat it out defiantly, the obvious word they’d been talking around this whole time.  “He’s pureblood."

The irony of complaining about purebloods to Sirius Black was not lost on her.

"Not just pureblood," said Sirius calmly, leaning back against the wall.  "One of the oldest wizarding families around.  Richer than God and twice as influential, aren't they?"

Lily’s sense of self-preservation, striving to catch up with her big mouth, was caught off guard by this sympathetic response and faltered at a crucial moment, allowing her words to continue unchecked.  "You know the worst part—he just takes it all for granted!  Did you hear him in there?  He wants to play quidditch after school.  Just going to go pro!  Meanwhile I’m here thinking about what’s the most practical, what’s the most… most… most strategic…  Thinking about what skills I need to have.  For the future.”  She sucked in a breath.

“He just assumes, you know, whatever he thinks is right, whatever he wants, and the universe will rearrange itself to accommodate him.  It makes me sick!  Well you know what, Black?” she said, looking him straight in the eye, “He won't get everything.”

She clenched and unclenched her hands in an attempt to dispel the painful lump in her throat, but she was sure Sirius had spotted it before she’d even opened her mouth.  It was getting harder to speak every minute, and what had started so fierce ended with her trailing off weakly, “Not that anything I say or do could possibly penetrate through that bubble of privilege and breach his thick skull…"

"James Potter," mused Sirius, who inexplicably had not yet challenged her to a duel to the death. "He does live a charmed life."  Startled, she looked him in the eyes and thought she could see a hint of bitterness there.  "That's right, Evans, I'm agreeing with you.  No need to look so shocked. He hasn't been touched by this shit. Not the way…"  He gestured between them.

Lily tried to compose herself, organizing her thoughts into something that another human being might find reasonable, and forcing them out around the telltale croakiness of her voice.  "Being him—it means never having his place questioned.  Never even having to think about the things that I—the choices that I—"  Sirius, perceptive as ever, politely averted his gaze to the window at her back.

He stayed quiet as Lily focused on her traitorous breathing.  In and out, in and out.

As her breathing slowed, Sirius said quietly, "Sometimes I think I don’t ever want him to see this shit up close, but sometimes… I resent him like nothing else."  

As she scrubbed furiously at her eyes, he continued looking out the window over her shoulder.  She knew, in that horrible way she always knew, that James Potter was visible circling the quidditch pitch in the distance.

Sirius continued, “You know, Monty and Effy—James’ parents—took me in over the summer.”

Lily nodded silently.  In truth, she knew very little for sure about the circumstances in which Sirius had left home, but she had her suspicions.

“It took James a while to understand when we were kids.  You know.  That my family's not… that they don't…”  Tension was visible in every line of his body, but he forced the words out somehow, directing them more over her head than to her face.  “Not everybody’s family loves them.  It's not always a part of having a family.”

With an effort, Sirius brought his eyes back to hers.  “But James knows now.  He understands that what he's been given is… special.  And it just made him want to share.  He's so.  Goddamn.  Generous.  He doesn't even think about it.”

Almost unconsciously, Sirius’ gaze drifted back toward the window and the view Lily knows is framed within it.  “It’s intoxicating, being around him.  It almost makes me think maybe he's right.”

It's intoxicating.

Lily shook herself.  “Right about what?”

“Maybe it should be a given.  Maybe all kids should be able to take it for granted that their parents love them.”

Lily's mind automatically began to supply her with images of Snape—back when he was only Sev.  Sev, ten years old, scared, skinny, dirty.  Sev, thirteen years old, hiding his nicer things from his father by leaving them at her house.  Sev’s skin hot and angry under her hands, as she dabbed her new concealer around his eye.  No matter how she tried to hold on to them, the images dissipated, leaving only Sirius rolling a cigarette on the window ledge, uncharacteristically clumsy.  Looking at him, she had the impulse to cover his hands with her own, but settled for taking the papers and tobacco away from him and beginning to go through the motions herself.

“So?  What is your point?” she said.  “That I should just forgive him because he doesn't think about this?”  She was beginning to work herself up again; the return of that familiar, comforting anger burning away the helplessness of watching Sirius' hands shake on his cigarette papers.  “He can’t be expected to engage with something life or death just because he’s managed to avoid thinking about it up till now?  Because he's ‘too good’ he ‘doesn't see blood status’…”

“No, Evans—Merlin—that's not it!”  Sirius ran his hands through his hair in frustration.  It was such a James-like gesture that it brought her up short, her heart giving a sudden, painful squeeze.

“I'm saying he’ll understand.  James.  I mean, he’ll never understand how people can think like Death Eaters do—he doesn't have my… experience.”  Sirius said the word precisely, like it might cut his mouth on the way out.  “You know, gazing into the abyss and all.  But he’ll understand about you.  He does listen to you, you know.  God, if you would just talk to him—”

“And say what?  It’s not my job to explain to James Potter that there's a fucking war on!  That people want to.  To kill me.”  She felt her lip quiver and quickly forced it into a sneer, wondering if the expression is as unpleasantly familiar to Sirius as his hair ruffle had been to her.  “Oh poor James!  Do you need me to hold his hand, and help him understand that my friends are trying to kill me?”

“No,” said Sirius, his eyes uncomfortably direct.  “Just talk to him about how you feel.”

“How I—”  Her heart stopped for a moment at what Sirius might mean, her thoughts veering off course, dangerously close to the one part of her brain she never looked at, never touched, never…

Sirius, with a disturbing amount of sympathy in his voice, prompted her out of her daze.  “Angry.  It makes you feel angry right?  Well, tell James that.  Maybe then he'll understand why you’ve been prickly as a horntail with gas lately…”

~

Sirius could hear himself starting to ramble, but he couldn’t stop.  He had no idea if he was getting through to Evans at all—she was such an odd bird—but he owed it to James, speaking to each other or no, to try.  It was possible, he admitted to himself, that he owed it a little to Evans too.

“Stupid.”  Evans’ voice, suddenly subdued, interrupted his thoughts.  “I feel…  angry, yes, angry and stupid.  And no one makes me feel more angry and stupid than your best mate.”  She grimaced a little—like the words tasted bad on the way out.

“Just give it a try, Evans,” he said, gentler than he was used to speaking.  “If anyone knows what it’s like to want someone to be better than they are, it’s James.”

Now Sirius was the one to shift uncomfortably under her gaze.  Evans' mouth was slightly open in genuine shock as she stared at him, her big eyes growing soft with understanding.

“Sirius—that’s not true.  It’s not the same thing at all!  James isn't wrong to trust you—”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged one shoulder in what he hoped was a casual, unaffected gesture of please-drop-it-Evans.  Of course she didn't take the hint.  Her jaw, which had been shaky a few minutes ago, was settling into something bordering on mulish.

“James was right to trust you, and so am I.”

“Don't exactly have the best track record with your hopeless cases do you though?” he said meanly, but the blow didn't land.  She didn't even acknowledge it, her gaze laser-focused, as if she could force her words to be true through willpower alone.  He thought, not for the first time, that she and Prongs made a matched pair of prize idiots.

Unexpectedly, two arms slid around his waist, under his ten quid jacket, to clasp tightly behind him.  Evans' face, pressed firmly into his chest, was obscured, but her words were clear.  “You’re a good person Sirius.  You're my friend.”

Sirius looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly.  Evans seemed to sense this change, and squeezed, if possible, even harder.  Her head didn't even reach his shoulder.  It was surprising—he’d thought she was bigger than that.  He gave up and patted her awkwardly on the head.  “Yeah,” he croaked, “Yeah, okay.”

After a moment, Sirius cleared his throat.  “Well?  You clinging little harpy?  Are you finished?”

“I thought I was a Horntail with gas,” Evans replied, her voice sounding suspiciously thick.

“Very well then,” he replied, putting on his poshest of voices, “my flatulent glorified reptile.  A Horntail you shall be!  Anything you desire, so long as you cease this unseemly display at once!”

“No.”  Lily grinned up at him, her pointy little chin digging into his chest.  “No, we're friends. You said so.”

“Friends we may be, but women have paid good money for the opportunity to be where you are now.  Can't just devalue our resources like that.”

“Luckily, you're going to give me the mates' rates.”

“Evans, if you keep insisting on this 'friendship' you're going to ruin my business model.  Drive me to ruin!  Leave me selling my molars on the streets like that poor girl Fanty from The Miserable Shits.”*

“Don't try that on me,” said Lily sternly, “if anyone in this school knows how to pronounce French names it's you, Mr. Toujours Pur.”

“And here I thought you were going to say, ‘oh no Sirius, your smile is just too sparkling, please, please, find something else to sell!’”

“Well, you did imply there were hordes of women lining up to be in my position right now,” she mused.  Turning her head, she called over her shoulder,  “Gilda! How much would you pay to motorboat Sirius Black?”

Sirius noticed with a start that the entryway was no longer empty, as the first wave of people reached the great hall for dinner.  As Lily haggled with her Hufflepuff friends over the value of Sirius’ pecs she disentangled herself from him and he couldn't help but feel hollow.  He hadn't realized how much he'd missed that kind of casual contact—how it grounded him, calmed the churning acid of his anger even as it couldn't banish it entirely.  A little stiffly, he began sweeping his cigarette kit back into his pockets.  Remus had used to—no.  You don’t have the right.  Not anymore.

He only had a moment to feel the loss, for Lily turned back to him with a triumphant smile, linking her arm through his to pull him along with the girls into the great hall.

“Eight and a half galleons!  That ought to cover your losses!”

“And inflate my rates?  I'm not an extortionist—"

“—no, just an exhibitionist—"

“—besides, have you thought about what effect that would have on the Hogwarts economy…?”

~

It's not this conversation with Sirius that made Lily decide to approach James—really, it wasn’t!  Rather, it was the nebulous feeling of guilt their conversation left her with that prompted her to linger after Transfiguration and try very much not to feel like an idiot waiting for James to pack up.  It wasn’t very successful—at least not on the idiot front.  She felt a bit like an extra who hadn’t been told what to do before the cameras started rolling.  She was just wondering if she could pretend to be sweeping the floors when she heard James exit the classroom and grind to a halt.

The corridor was empty except for them.  He’d taken a long time—too long—chatting to McGonagall like he always did, and now there was no way to pass this off as a casual encounter.  It was obvious she’d been Lying In Wait like some deranged stalker, but to know her presence had spooked him this badly stung a little.

“Evans?” he said hesitantly.

Well, the only way out is through, Lily thought to herself bracingly.  She whipped around in a way that felt simultaneously too fast and too delayed, and came face to face with James Potter.  He was closer than she’d realized, leaving her blinking up at him, thrown off guard.  This close she could see the tiny freckles dotted across his brown skin, concentrated on the bridge of his nose.  She hated those freckles.  There—she spotted a cluster of hairs just under his chin that he must have missed while shaving—that was better!  Focusing on that, she pushed herself back a few feet, met his eyes, and opened her mouth.

He beat her to it, though.  “Look, Evans,” he said, brow creased anxiously and hands clenched on his books, “I’ve been wanting to say—I’m really sorry about the other day.  I didn’t—”

“No, no!” she started, guilt breaking through the awkwardness that had held her tongue-tied.  “I’m the one who’s sorry!  I was completely out of line…”

“Wait, what?”  He looked even more confused now, his expressive eyebrows drawn together over his worried eyes.  “No, that’s not right… I was a complete arse, I should be—”

“James,” she said, and he shut up immediately, just looked at her with that terrible nervous expression on his face.  It never used to be this hard to talk to him—talking to James had always been easy as breathing, even when everything else about him had been difficult.  She couldn’t remember a time when he’d been this anxious in front of her—like he was afraid of her.  It hurt more than she wanted to admit.  He’d never cared before about the things she said, why did he have to go and start caring now, when she’d actually been wrong?

She took a deep breath and began, stumbling to remember what she’d planned to say.  “James.  I waited so that I could apologize to you for some of the things I said the other day in the common room.”  She paused, waiting for him to jump in with a smartarse, ‘only some of the things?’ but it didn’t come.  He just looked at her, eyes unreadable.  His eyelashes were very dark.

Thinking about his expression made her nervous, so she focused instead on an invisible crack in the stone wall behind him and continued.  “Some of the things that I said…  I shouldn’t have said any of it was your fault.  It wasn’t fair.  And it’s not like I even believe that it was your fault—not really!  I was just angry.  And I think maybe you were right…”  Again, she waited for him to crow over this concession, but nothing came.  “Maybe I did just want it to be your fault… which really was unfair of me.  So.  I’m sorry.”

“Ah, Evans,” he said.  “You weren’t wrong—not completely.  I mean, yeah, I think it was always going to happen, and I’m not going to pretend I don’t think you’re well shot of him and I’m not taking the blame for him being a slimy little bigot but…”

As she listened, Lily waited for her familiar anger at his words, but it didn’t come, leaving her feeling oddly empty.  Looking at James more closely, she realized that the strange expression of discomfort on his face was guilt.

“I think maybe it is my fault that it went down how it did.  You know, so… public,” he finished awkwardly.

Public.  Humiliating.

“So.  You know.  I’m sorry for that.  And it’s not like I did anything to be proud of that day…”

‘Go out with me Evans!  I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelley again!’

“I’m sorry for some of the stuff I said back then.  Well, then and also last week?  I’m sorry for all of it Lily, truly I am.”  He was looking at her with imploring eyes, and she felt the easy response of anger getting further and further from her reach.  It suddenly all felt so exhausting.

Lily sighed, leaning back against the stone wall and letting herself slowly slide down it until she was sitting on the floor, knees bent and back flat against the stone.  After a moment, James followed suit, his long legs sticking out in front of them both.  She closed her eyes, but she could feel him watching her still, like sunspots behind her eyelids.

“I don’t know,” she said after a moment.  “I think that maybe it helped, having it be so public.”  She turned toward him, letting her head roll along the wall rather than lift it again (it felt so heavy these days).  “Having everyone see it—it keeps me from forgiving him.  From brushing it off or making excuses for it anymore.”  With a wry half smile, she added, “At least my pride will see to that.”

“Still,” he offered, “I may never have liked Snape, but that doesn’t mean… that’s not what I wanted.  I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

It had hurt so much.  It still hurt so much.

“Truthfully, that part’s not your fault either.  Snape hurt me when he decided he cared more about power than about our friendship.”  And doesn’t that hurt like a bitch to say out loud.

“He is—or at least he’s trying to be—one of them.  You know who I mean.  That’s what hurts.  That I couldn’t… that I wasn’t enough to…”  She took a deep gulping breath, her throat tight.  “Anything you did really barely registers after that.”

“Lily.  I’m sorry that it happened at all.”  His eyes were dark and understanding.  She thought about what Sirius had said, about wanting to believe in people.

“Thanks, James.”

They sat quietly, caught in each other’s gaze.  Lily could feel an ache inside of her, like something was stretching out toward him, trying to expand past her body into something bigger.  She got this feeling a lot lately, mostly when she saw James not looking at her, not talking to her, sitting the furthest from her in every room.

“I’m not crazy, right?” she said, breaking the silence.  “You have been avoiding me.”

He tilted his head back against the wall before responding, breaking eye contact.  The castle was very quiet around them—most people must have been either at dinner six floors away or outside in the last of the late afternoon sunshine.  The quiet seemed to make everything she saw louder; the hidden browns in his black hair, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the smooth skin of his throat.  She could see that unshaven patch of stubble still, just under his chin, but looking at it didn’t seem to help this time.

Lily realized she was afraid of what he might reply.  By the time he opened his mouth to speak, she wasn’t completely sure she wanted to hear his answer anymore.

“Yeah, I guess I was, a bit.  I didn’t think…  I thought you’d be glad.  After everything I did last year I thought you wouldn’t want me around.”  He let out a huff of breath, too quiet to be a laugh.  “I thought you hated me.”

The idea of him taking anything she said to heart threw her off balance.  If anyone had asked her last week how it would feel, she would have imagined that having power over James Potter would give her a thrill, or at the very least be a relief.  As it turned out, she just felt sick.

“I don’t hate you,” she started.  It seemed important to get that out there as soon as possible.  “You make me really mad sometimes, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I hate you.  Or that I want you to just… stop talking to me or anything.”

She thought it might kill her to look at him right then so she looked down at her hands, industriously picking at the laces of her shoes.  “Most of the time I think you’re alright.”  And that’s only the biggest lie you’ve ever told, she thought to herself bitterly.  The silence stretched out until she thought it might kill her not to look at him, and she snuck a peek out from under her hair.

He was staring at her, stunned, but with something like hope spreading across his face.  When he caught her eye he grinned—his old grin, sunny and cocksure—saying, “Alright, is it?  Sounds almost like you missed me, Evans.”

She found herself grinning back helplessly, relief sweeping through her like sunshine.  “Yeah, yeah.  Don’t let it go to your head.”

He attempted to pull his face into a stern expression, but his smile was irrepressible.  “Don’t think I don’t know what this is about—you just want to butter me up so I’ll help you with Transfig.”

“Absolutely, yes.  Is it working?”

He laughed, the sound soaking into her.  He pushed himself to his feet, then walked over and offered her a hand up, saying, “Bloody hell, Evans, are you committed to the long con!”

They stood there in the hall, grinning at each other for far longer than the joke warranted.  Then he spoke again, hesitantly, “If you wanted, we could pair up for Transfig?  You remember, right—we used to be partners for a while there.  We could give it another try?”

Fifth year.  It had been her best scores from McGonagall ever.  “Oh, but surely…”  Lily trailed off, unwilling to risk their precarious ceasefire so soon.  “I know it’s not really my place, but…”

“But you’re going to say it anyway,” he sighed, but there wasn’t much bite to it.  Possibly he, too, was reluctant to break the peace.  “Go on then, Evans.  Spit it out.”

“It’s Sirius.”  The words came out in a rush.  “I know you guys are all fighting and I know it’s bad but…  I just thought…  Surely it won’t be long before you want to forgive him and then.  Well, you’d be stuck with me.”

“I don’t know, Evans,” he said, face suddenly grim.  “It might be longer than you think.”

“Does it have to be?  I know you miss him!  And he definitely misses you if he’s resorted to hanging out with me…  He must have done something really bad, that much is obvious, but he’s sorry and it’s eating him up inside—”

“You have no idea,” said James stiffly.  “You have no idea how bad it was.”

Suddenly irritated, Lily drew her wand, casting muffliato before James had time to react.  “Oh, I have a guess,” she said, stepping closer to him.  “Honestly, I’ve been assuming he told Snape that Remus is a werewolf.”

James started so obviously he almost dropped his books.  “What… how could you possibly…?”

Triumph was fleeting, leaving only a bitter sense of resignation.  Poor Remus.

James narrowed his eyes.  “Did Sirius tell you?” he demanded.

“What?  No!  No, he hasn’t said anything—just that it was to Remus, and that it was unforgivable.”

James was still tense, but some of the anger faded from his expression.  She continued, “The other clues were that Snape has been trying to talk to me ever since.  More than usual, I mean.  He always was suspicious of Remus, kept trying to ‘warn me off’ associating with him.  As if something like that would bother me—Remus is my friend!  But it makes sense that if he had proof, I’d be the person he would want to convince.”

James gaped at her.  It would be satisfying if the circumstances weren’t so sad.  “How long have you known about Moony—about Remus’—furry little problem?”

“Is that what you guys call it?  I should have known he wasn’t the type for pets,” she mused.  “I’ve known for a few years now—I think I first found out in third?  Anyway, I don’t care, obviously, but he told me other people definitely would, so I’ve never said anything before now.  He did say you lot guessed really early on.”

“But… this whole time…  You said Snape’s been trying to prove Remus is a werewolf for ages!  And what—you just played dumb?”

“Well, obviously!” she said, with a flash of temper.  “I’m not an idiot!  I know what Snape would have done with information like that!  I tried to talk him out of it, get him to drop it, but…” she shook her head, “he always did have an uncanny nose for people’s weak spots.”

James still seemed shocked by these revelations, so she kept going, “The thing I don’t understand is why he hasn’t done anything yet.  I mean, he’s trying to tell me, but that’s hardly the damage I was afraid of—and he must know I wouldn’t say anything to hurt Remus!”

James’ jaw creaked.  “Dumbledore,” he said, “Dumbledore told him not to say anything.  Made him swear.”

“I am right then,” Lily said sadly.

“Almost,” said James, his voice equally subdued.  “That’s part of it, but the rest is worse.  I’m not going to tell you—”

“I wouldn’t ask!  But you really can’t forgive him?  Are you really so angry?  There’s just no way I can picture Sirius hurting Remus on purpose…”

“It’s not that, Lily.”  He sounded tired.  It’s that, along with the use of her first name, that stopped her.  “It’s because it’s Remus.”

“Remus?” she said, confused.  “I thought Sirius was your best friend, honestly, if I had to pick one.”

“That’s the problem,” he said.  “So does Remus.”

Suddenly, with a burst of sympathy for them all, she understood.  She thought about telling James he didn’t have to explain anymore, but it seemed like once he’d started talking it would hurt more to stop.

“Remus thinks that we’ll pick Sirius because we—me—like him better.  Because he’s more ‘fun’ or something.  He thinks that we don’t really care about him, or at least, not as much as we—me—care about Sirius.”  James ran his hands through his hair, but this time the familiar gesture was frustrated, not cocky, and with it came the return of her vague guilty feelings.  It was hard to reconcile that James, smug and destructive, with this one, insightful and caring.  But they must have both been there that day too, or he wouldn’t have felt so bad about it.

“Remus says it’s fine, but I can tell he’s still hurt—he just thinks that he’s going to lose us if he makes a fuss.”  He shrugged, meeting her eyes with a wry smile.  “So I’m trying to make enough fuss for the both of us.”

There were a lot of things she wanted to say—that he was doing the right thing, that he was being really brave, that Remus was lucky to have him, that she didn’t know how this would ever end if he wasn’t the one to end it—but it all felt presumptuous of her, to think James Potter cared about her opinion of his choices.

“What do you think?  Does that make any sense?  I mean, do you think I’m doing the right thing?”  He was looking at her anxiously, as though waiting to hear a verdict.  Lily could only blink back at him, shocked at the way he’d seemed to read her thoughts.

When she didn’t respond, his shoulders sagged a little.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I know I shouldn’t put this on you but—you always seem to know what the right thing to do is!  And I obviously can’t talk to my mates about it, and most other friends are right out because they don’t know about Remus.  Usually, to be honest, I’d write my ma about it—she’s brilliant.  She always knows what to do or say… but she doesn’t know about Remus either and it’s not my place to tell.  Besides, she’s Sirius’ mama too now and I don’t want her to… I don’t want her to think badly of him.  It doesn’t seem fair.”

As he’d started to ramble, Lily squared her shoulders, an emotion she didn’t want to analyze taking hold of her.  “James,” she said.  His head snapped up in response.

“Yeah?”

“I do think you’re doing the right thing.”

~

“I do think you’re doing the right thing.”

Lily’s gaze was clear and steady, and she continued as if the ground wasn’t shifting under James’ feet for the second time that evening.  “I think you’re being really brave to stand up for Remus.  I know it’s hard, but I think he’s lucky to have a friend like you.  And for what it’s worth, I think Sirius is lucky to have you too.”

The words felt weighty, echoing oddly inside the bubble of muffliato, but their effect was undeniable.  It was as if she’d lifted something from his shoulders, leaving him lighter, straighter.  He blinked suddenly wet eyes, saying, “Merlin, Lily, you didn’t have to—”

She took both of his hands in hers and gave them a funny little shake, shorting out whatever nonsense he had been trying to say. “I wasn’t finished—I just want to say that I know it’s hard, but we’re going to figure something out.  You hear?  We’re not going to leave it like this forever.”

“We?” he said hopefully.

She dropped his hands, blushing and clearly irritated by it.  “Yeah, we, Potter.”

“Seriously, Evans.  Thank you.”  It was all coming out a little too sincere—he didn’t want to scare her off, but he couldn’t seem to control whatever expression he was making right now.  Luckily, he’d forgotten that Lily Evans didn’t scare easy.

She glared up into his face, as stubborn as ever.  “Sounds like you could use someone to talk to and, well, I’m the best you’ve got.  So, there.”

He laughed—everything in the gray stone corridor seemed suddenly brighter.  “Evans, if you could see your face… You know, that’s the face you make in Transfig all the time?”

“I do not!  What face?”

“You know, like you can blow up your untransfigured watch with the power of your mind.”

“No it isn’t!  It’s my see-if-I’m-ever-nice-to-you-again-Potter face.”

“Ooooh, looks like someone’s losing a study buddy!”  An unfortunate thought occurred to him, and he added reluctantly, “You know, maybe you should partner with Sirius instead?  He’s working with Sylvester, and I know he hates Sylvester.  I mean, he does—”

“Smell like cheese.”  Lily finished, grimacing in sympathy.  “Sure!  I mean, at least, if you think that’s okay?”  She looked up at him anxiously.  He wanted nothing more than to tell her no, that it was a terrible idea and that she should partner only with him for all of their classes and also for the rest of their lives, but he firmly resisted the urge.

“To tell you the truth, Evans, I’ve been relieved that you’re talking to him.  Sirius isn’t…”  James fumbled to explain what Sirius was or wasn’t.  “He’s not good at being alone.  I’ve been worried about him.”

Thankfully, she nodded in understanding.  “I have seen what you mean…  Too much time alone seems to make being Sirius a lot harder, somehow.  Well, if you think it’s a good idea then I’ll ask Sirius for help tonight in the common room…  Dorcas is going to be pissed though,” Lily giggled suddenly.  “She hates cheese.”

He smiled down at her.  Don’t ruin it, he thought fiercely.  Twenty minutes ago you thought she never wanted to speak to you again.  And now she’s laughing with you and you thought you’d never ever have this again so.  Maybe don’t push your luck?  He couldn’t help himself.  “Evans,” he started, “do you want to maybe go down and grab some dinner?”

But she wasn’t looking at him anymore.  She’d turned to look down the corridor, to where a crowd of students were approaching them.  He felt their chatter crash over him as Lily lifted the spell that had held the two of them together in a silent bubble.

“Dinner must be over,” she said, sounding mournful.  “Damn.”

“We could go to the kitchens,” he said hopefully.  “There’s always plenty of food there—”

“Sorry, Potter,” she said, shaking her head.  “I actually would love to but… you’re not the only person I have to apologize to today.”

Well, it was getting close to too good to be true.

“The Lily Evans Apology Tour Continues!” she announced, pretending to doff a ringmaster’s hat as she walked backward down the corridor away from him.  As she turned the corner her head popped back around it for a moment, calling out, “Nick me some biscuits, yeah, Potter?”

He’s so fucked.

~

As Lily mounted the stairs to the Gryffindor 6^th year girls dorms, she could feel her courage—bolstered by her conversation with James—flagging more with every step.  She’d lingered on the walk back, turning what should have been a five minute journey into over half an hour, but despite her best efforts had ultimately arrived at her destination.  No turning back, she told herself firmly, if you go through that door you’d better say your piece or you’re the worst coward Gryffindor has ever seen!  By the time she reached the top, she had to count to fifteen before she could steel herself to step inside.

Rather than the terrors she had anticipated, on the other side of the door was the normal, cheerfully messy space, with two girls sprawled across the beds, and two more chatting on one of the window seats.

“Lily!” called Alice from over by the window.  “Where were you—we didn’t see you at dinner?”

“Oh good,” said Lily, “you’re here too Alice.  I need to talk to all of you.”

Dorcas had rolled off one of the beds and was digging in her bag.  She straightened, holding out a plate to Lily.  “You missed dinner,” she said.  “Marly was in charge of bringing you rolls but I think,” she made a face at Marlene, “I think she already ate them.”

“I did not,” said Marlene, wounded, “they’re right here!”  As she spoke, she pulled a crumpled napkin out from underneath a pile of magazines and brandished it at Lily.

“Lily…?” said Alice.

Without warning, Lily burst into tears.  “You guys got me dinner?” she wailed.

“Yeah, Lily, of course we did—”  Dorcas started, still holding the plate out in front of her.  Lily took it, took one look at it, and immediately started crying harder.

“It’s st-still hot!” she sobbed.  “You put a wa-warming charm on itttt.”

Exchanging anxious looks, the girls converged on Lily, making soothing noises.

“Of course we did it’s not like a warming charm is hard—”

“Babes, did something happen?  Are you ok?”

“You don’t have to cry about it!  It was nothing really—”

“Are you sure you’re ok?  Did someone do something?  Do we need to kill someone?”

“You know, I heard Peter telling Remus that Boot saw her talking to James in the Transfiguration corridor—”

“Was it Potter?  Did he do this to you?”

“No!” Lily burst out.  “No, it’s me!  You’re all being so nice and I’ve been such an awful friend…”

“What are you talking about?” said Mary, genuinely bewildered.

Lily, hiccuping, began a very confused rendition of what she’d planned to say on the walk back.  “I’ve been distant and I’ve been so moody and I haven’t been supportive—Alice, I didn’t even congratulate you on getting your Auror internship last summer and I know how important that was to you…”

“Lily, love, it’s not a big deal…”

“It is!” said Lily furiously, “It is a big deal, Alice.  And I just ignored it!  But I’m not going to do that anymore!”  She looked around at them all through a tear-streaked face.  “Last year I was pushing you all away and then this year I just didn’t know what to do to fix it… I wasted all of my time on… on Snape.  And it didn’t even do any good!”  She could feel her voice rising again, ending in renewed sobs.

At the name Snape, the faces around her changed, understanding dawning on them.  Alice cleared her throat.  “I think we should all sit down—it seems like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

They piled into two adjacent beds.  Lily had progressed to the snotty, miserable stage of crying, with Alice and Mary still petting her hair and making aimless soothing noises, as if she was a puppy.  Dorcas and Marlene sat on the bed opposite, faces serious.  Marlene, after a moment’s thought, dumped the rolls out onto the covers and offered the crumpled napkin to Lily.

“Merlin, Marlene!” snapped Dorcas, jumping up again to search for her tissues, “I think we can do better than that!”

Mary let out a squeaky laugh.  Alice, on Lily’s other side, did a better job of biting her tongue, but Lily could feel her shoulders shake with suppressed giggles.  To her surprise, Lily found herself beginning to laugh, albeit wetly, and felt the tension in the room ease as the rest of the girls let loose.  Even Dorcas, giving up on finding a better option for dealing with Lily’s leaky face, flopped heavily back down on the bed with a grin.

“What?” said Marlene.  “I don’t see anyone else helping!”  This just made Lily laugh harder.  Since no tissues seemed forthcoming, she swiped the napkin out of Marlene’s hands and blew her nose hard.  Wiping intermittently at her eyes, she began to try to explain.

“He seemed like he just needed me so much more, you know?  Everything was so awful for him at home, and then at school… well, when it was just us it was so much easier.  And he always said that I couldn’t expect him to give up his friends if I wasn’t willing to do the same.”  Her face screwed up again, “I know it’s not the same—I even knew it then!  But I just wanted so badly to get him away from them… I see now that it probably wouldn’t have mattered.  If he didn’t…  If he didn’t share their views he wouldn’t have been friends with them at all.  You all—” looking around at her friends “—you used to tell me so yourselves.  And we would get in such awful fights and I know I was being unfair to take his side…”

“Lily, don’t,” begged Dorcas.  “We knew how hard it was on you and we could have tried to make things easier—we were just worried about you!  Please, Lily, we’re really not mad, right?”  She looked around at the other girls, who all nodded their heads earnestly.

“It’s just,” Lily said, crying in earnest again, “I really thought I could fix it!  I thought—I wanted—if I could just change this one person then maybe, you know, it would all turn out okay!”

Mary’s hand clenched on her shoulder, leading Lily to blink up at her.  She was surprised to see that Mary was crying silently, tears streaming down her face.  When Lily looked around, she wasn’t the only one—Marlene looked stricken, and Alice was wiping her eyes with the hand not stroking Lily’s hair.

Dorcas, never comfortable with emotional displays, lunged forward, tackling Lily back on to the bed.  The rest of the girls piled on, with varying degrees of tears and shouting.

Some very confused minutes later, everyone had managed to find some space to sit up in, leaning back against the posts of the bed or (in Marlene’s case) starfished in the middle of it eating Lily’s dinner rolls.  Mary was trying to choose a picture for them to watch from Lily’s extensive collection of three, and was getting less help than she would have liked in making this choice.

Lily, in the hollowed-out, fragile post-cry state, was starting to feel vaguely silly. “I didn’t mean for this to get so dramatic, girls—I’m really sorry about all the fuss—but I just can’t seem to stop crying lately.”

“Oh darling, we’re not mad!  Honestly, we’ve been wondering when you’d finally break down.  It seems like it’s been coming on for a while,” said Alice wisely.

“And what with you losing it on James the other night, we figured it was going to be sooner rather than later,” Mary followed up.

“Yeah!” said Marlene, “Merlin, Lily, but you weren’t half hard on him—what did you say?  That the only difference between him and Snape was that he was more embarrassed about being a bigot?”

“Yeah, or how about when she said she hoped that he enjoyed his ‘lucrative career as an international quidditch star, playing to simulated applause in empty stadiums like the Emperor Nero of the Second Wizarding War!’”**

“A galleon says he had to go look up who Nero was just to parse that one—”

“Oh don’t,” groaned Lily, “I don’t even remember half the stuff I said.  I already apologized to Potter once, but if you keep going my conscience will kick in and I’ll end up having to give him a second apology, covering everything the first one left out!”

“You apologized to Potter?” said Dorcas incredulously, when the girls were interrupted by a rap on the window.

“Who’s got post at this time?” asked Alice, going to let the owl in.  It turned out to be not one owl, but two, carrying between them a large and unwieldy package.  Marlene, pouncing on it, revealed it to be a basket containing at least five different times of biscuits, as well as a large container of ice cream.  The owls pecked at the biscuits with the dignified manner of queens accepting tribute, before taking off into the chilly night sky.

“What the hell?” said Dorcas, inspecting the cooling charm placed on the ice cream bowl.

The idea dawned on Lily at the same time that Mary, always eagle eyed, spotted something wedged between a brownie and a snickerdoodle.  “Oh no,” Lily started, but was cut off by Mary’s excited squeal.

“There’s a note!  It says, ‘You didn’t say what kind.  Cheers—James.  James?’” she read, her voice rising to a shriek on the last word.

Lily fell back onto the bed, covered her face with Dorcas’ pillow, and let out a loud groan.  It only sounded a little like Potter.

Chapter Text

Alice woke up that morning with Marlene drooling on her shoulder, a terrible crick in her neck, and an afro that was entirely flattened on one side.  When it became clear that none of the girls were emotionally stable enough for her to return to the seventh years dorms, she'd done her best to tie it up with one of Marlene's many scarves, but it had come loose in the night and her hair was looking the worse for it.  Thank Merlin it was Saturday, and she wasn't rushing for class.

She noticed Lily was no longer next to her, and she jumped up, dropping Marlene to the floor in her panic.  She felt like an idiot the next moment, when she heard Lily moving around the bathroom, singing to herself.

“Hey—” Marlene started, rubbing her head where it had hit the floor, but she stopped short when Alice cocked her head toward the bathroom door.  They fell silent, listening.  The faucet turned off and Alice could make out the song—Well, I know that you're in love with him, ‘Cause I saw you dancing in the gym—She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard Lily singing.

Lily emerged, drying her hair with a charm, and laughed at Alice, reminding her of what she must look like.  As she shook her hair out and attempted to finger comb it into something a little more even, the other girls were beginning to stumble around, doing the usual morning bathroom song-and-dance.  She watched them with a fond, protective feeling stirring in her chest.  Maybe she should spend more time with them.

“You should just leave some of your moisturizers in here,” Lily said, pulling on her jeans.

“If you think I'm ever sleeping on your floor again, you're sadly mistaken, Lily Evans!  Once was plenty…”

“Give Mary's desk a try,” said Lily.  “I doubt she'd have what you use, but she's got all sorts of creams and rubbish like that.  Needs them, what with everything she subjects that mane to—”  Lily broke off to dodge an elastic that Mary had snapped at her (surprisingly accurately) from across the room.  “Cheers, Mary, I lost my last one.”

Scowling at Lily, Mary gestured to her cosmetics stand, and Alice began to pick through them.

“Oh, I wish you wouldn't put those in your hair,” begged Mary as Lily began scraping her hair into a ponytail with the captured elastic.  “It’s so bad for it—they’ll break your hair something awful.”

“It's better if it's up,” said Lily.  “Safer.”

Looking at Lily's stiff expression, Alice sighed.  It seemed that whatever was going on with her wasn't over yet.

~

Lily woke up crushed between Marlene and Alice, drowning in more hair than three girls should have been able to grow.  Alice was going to be mad as fire when she woke up, Lily thought sympathetically.  The night had stretched out longer and longer, none of the girls willing to break up the party by returning to their own beds, until finally Marlene had pulled the blankets down on to the floor and all five of them had spread out there.

Lily gingerly untangled herself from Marlene’s sprawled limbs and picked her way over to the bathroom.  She felt like she was recovering from a nasty bout of flu: sweaty and sore, and with a monster of a headache building (crybaby hangovers, Mary called them) but also unexpectedly light and clear.

Even her morning news ritual couldn’t suppress her good mood.  Although that was probably because she let herself ignore most of it, in favor of an in-depth and thoroughly enjoyable discussion with Remus about the Sex Pistols being dropped by EMI.*  The enchanted ceiling showed a sky that was a bright and cloudless blue—beautiful to look at from the inside, where they were safe from the January cold.

James wandered in just as she and the girls were getting up, yawning, his hair (as always) all over the place.  For a moment she froze, unsure, but then he gave her a cheerful smile and a wave.  More relieved than she wanted to admit, she waved back, feeling a smile of her own—too wide, too revealing—spread across her face.

On the way out of the hall, she pulled Mary aside, ducking into a little alcove that used to hold a suit of armor.  She was pretty sure it was James and Sirius’ fault that it no longer had an occupant, but it was convenient for her purposes.

“Listen, Mary,” she started.  “I wanted to apologize to you…”

Mary gave her a puzzled frown.  “But you already apologized—last night?  To all of us?”

“Yes,” said Lily, taking a bracing breath, “but I owed you one of your own.”  Merlin, this was hard.  Harder even than apologizing to James, but that was just because she was guiltier about this than about anything she’d ever said to James Potter.  “Last year, when Mulciber…”

Mary went rigid, and Lily immediately changed tack, to speak in vaguer terms.  “When you were cursed.  I should have ended things with Snape then and there.  I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

When Mary still didn’t respond, she continued, despite feeling less and less sure of her decision to speak at all.  “I didn’t want to believe that Snape was part of that… I’m not making excuses though—I should have seen that he would have known, at least.  That if he cared, he would never have been friends with Mulciber.  I’m only now realizing how close they really are and… and I’m sorry, Mary!  I just hope—”

“Why are you saying this,” said Mary flatly.

Lily looked at her intently, hoping her sincerity would show on her face.  Or at least, that Mary would look back at her, even if that would never be enough to show her how deeply, truly sorry she was.  “Because you deserve an apology.  Because I was wrong, and I let you down, and I want you to know that I know that I was wrong, and that I won’t do something like that ever again.  Because…”  Mary was looking at her then, and she swallowed, hard, against the lump in her throat.  “Because I hope you can trust me again.”

After an unbearable pause, Mary nodded.  Lily let out a breath of relief that was so loud and forceful it made Mary giggle, and the two of them relaxed against the wall, kicking their shoes together.

“It’s okay,” said Mary.  “I know you.  I know that you always want to give people the benefit of the doubt.  I like that about you, usually.”

Mary looked up then, at where James and Remus were exiting the dining hall, James with an absurd amount of toast in one hand.  “Well,” she corrected herself, “you give the benefit of the doubt to some people, at least.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Lily, but Mary didn’t reply.  Mary exited the alcove, giving Lily a significant look over her shoulder, before turning and walking briskly away down the corridor.  Lily followed, more slowly.

“Hello,” said Remus, cheerfully.  “You’re not heading back to the common room yet?  Well, we’ll walk with you to the library, at least.”

~

Perhaps it was the comment Mary had made before she left, but Lily felt awkward around James again.  That hadn’t taken very long, she thought miserably.  It was possible that James was feeling awkward himself, because after an initial greeting he was uncharacteristically silent.  Or perhaps, the part of her brain that could still use logic pointed out, he was busy eating his way through eight slices of toast.  Either way, she was eternally grateful that Remus was there to save the conversation from a slow, grim death.

The two of them started their Sex Pistols debate up again as they walked.  Lily figured that the band, after an initial bump in sales, would slide into obscurity.  As powerful an advertiser as controversy was, it wouldn’t do any good with no way to release records to a wide audience.  Remus, on the other hand, argued that the Sex Pistols, and punk as a whole, were transforming from a band into a lifestyle and ideology.  The music, he concluded, was secondary to that.  Lily took loud offense at the idea of music being secondary to anything in a band, and that rant carried them all the way to the turn toward the library.**

“This is me,” said Lily, ridiculously.

“Right,” said James, bobbing his head.  At least he looked equally ridiculous, she comforted herself.

Ignoring a spectacular eye roll from Remus, she raised her hand and gave a stupid little wave.  “Well… Bye, then.”

“Bye,” he replied, returning the wave.  It really did look dumb.

She set off down the hall to the library, but she suspected he might still be watching her.  She turned to look back over her shoulder—sure enough, he was staring after her.  She started to smile—he was so predictable—when someone bumped into her shoulder, hard.  “Mudblood,” they coughed, too quiet for anyone else in the corridor to hear, before pushing past her.  Still turned partly away, she didn’t see who it was.  What that meant, though, was that James saw the change on her face, and realized what it must mean.

Before she could blink, he was there, the Slytherin fourth year up against the wall, hands raised, and a wand at his chest.  “Apologize,” James snarled.

The entire corridor was staring at them, now.  The kid—and it really was only a kid, and that was even worse—stammered out an unintelligible apology.  James turned his head, looking back at her as if asking for her approval, and it all felt too sickeningly familiar.

“Jesus, Potter, let him go,” she snapped.  He looked confused, but he lowered his wand, letting the kid squeeze past him and dart away down the hall, weaving through the rubberneckers.

“And now you can fuck off too,” she added.  How dare he be confused, as if he didn’t have this whole scene memorized.

“Evans…” he said hesitantly.

“I’m not a prop for you to perform your bloody heroics around!”

He looked angry now, which was more familiar.  “What am I supposed to do, then?” he said tightly.  “People can’t walk around thinking they can talk like that without consequences—"

“Stop butting in—no one asked for your help!  Do you think I don’t deal with this enough on my own, without bloody James Potter, with his hero complex, jumping into the middle of it and making sure every eye is on you—”

“So, I should just watch you suffer in silence?”  He was shouting now, too.  “You expect me to sit back and let you be a martyr—and for what?”

That one shocked her into silence.  True to form, he’d hit her right in a soft spot she hadn’t known existed.  Was this the thing that kept her awake at night?  Patrolling the halls, always on edge?  Was it the need to take the hit first, to keep everyone else safe and unaware…  She recognized the resentment she felt when it worked, and they stayed unaware.

His face softened.  “You could have gotten hurt… You did get hurt!  Lily, please—”

“I don’t understand why you act like you care—we’re not even friends!”

The silence after that was like the time she’d slapped him, in fourth year—worse.  “Right,” he said.  Looking everywhere but at her face, he nodded jerkily, jammed his wand back into his pocket, turned, and walked away.

Lily, equally miserable, pushed her way through the crowd in the opposite direction, swearing unfairly at people when she stepped on their toes.

~

Lily found him out on the quidditch stands.  The January sun was a watery, thin memory of its summer glory, already low enough in the sky to send long, stark shadows stretching across the pitch to where the ground began to slope up toward the castle.  James was definitely starting to feel the chill, but in the sunshine the cold was distant enough not to be a deterrent.  On the contrary, he felt it lent the scene an enjoyable air of masochism not to cast a warming charm, but instead to sit exposed to the elements.  Evans had driven him to this—not even flying, just sulking on the stands like the sad sack he was.  Lost in his own self-indulgent thoughts, he didn’t notice her climbing the stairs until she was almost beside him.

She was in muggle clothes again.  She’d been wearing them more often this year—every time he saw her in them he felt a rush of pride, despite (or perhaps because of) the defensive way she held herself when she wore them.  Now she was in jeans and some sort of brown swede coat with a shaggy collar that didn’t seem to be doing its job—the tip of her nose was as red as her hair.

“Just take it, you ass,” she said.  He blinked.  She was holding out a scarf to him, red and knit and ridiculously long.  “It’s making me cold to look at you.”

He took it and held it, idiotically, in his hands.  With a determined nod, she sat down next to him and looked out at the grounds; he couldn’t seem to look away from the side of her face.  The sun, slanting across the pitch, caught in her hair and set it ablaze.

“We’re not very good at this friendship lark, are we?” she said, her voice deceptively light.  She squinted stubbornly out into the sun where it was beginning to set over the forest, deliberately not looking at him.

“We just need practice is all.”  James tried to match his tone to her casual one, but he wasn’t sure the desperation didn’t slip through anyway.

She turned to look at him, face unreadable.  “Put the scarf on.”  Grateful for the excuse to hide his face, he untangled it and began to wrap it around his neck.

“I know,” she said, “that I’m not very fair to you.”  He jerked on the scarf by accident, pulling it too tight and forcing him to unwind it a loop.  It really was ridiculously long.

She continued, “I never thought that you really… cared.  About the crap I say.”  Her voice was layered with discomfort, and guilt?  Concerned, he looked back up at her.  She appeared still and calm, but she was gripping her bent knees tightly as she spoke.

“I mean, I never thought it would make any sort of impression—you always seemed so…”

“Cocky?”

“Irrepressible.”  Her head was bent, but he thought he could see a slight smile at that.

“The thing is,” she said, “I didn’t really consider that—maybe—I mean, I have been really harsh.  And then someone said… it made me think that maybe, well, that I’ve been hurting your feelings or something.”  She said the last part in a rush, staring fixedly at her hands.

It’s worth it, he wanted to say.  It’s all worth it.  Instead, he thought for a moment, trying to find the right words—how to tell her that she’d made an impression, but the right kind of impression.  That he was listening.  That he’s been listening this whole time, even if he was slow on the uptake.

“Evans,” he said finally, “You’ve never said anything to me that wasn’t at the very least worth me thinking about.”  It felt like the right thing to say, or at least, when she breathed out some of her tension seemed to go with it.

She angled toward him ever so slightly, turning her head so she could look at him over her shoulder.  “Some of the things I’ve said were awfully mean.”

“Well, there was that time you tried to claim that ABBA was better than The Beatles… that one hurt to hear, for damn sure.”

She giggled.  “Don’t front, Potter,” she said, her eyes soft.  “You love ABBA.”

I love you.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I really do.”

He stretched his legs out so that they hung over the row of seats below them.  “You know, Sirius and I tried to go to a muggle club over the summer.”^†

“Really?”  He could hear the laugh lurking in her voice, just waiting for a reason.

“Yeah, but we didn’t know what to do once we got there.  Looked like right tossers just standing around when everyone else knew the dances.”  There was the laugh.  “I mean, Sirius talks a big talk, but the best he can do is International Standard Ballroom.”

“Oh, but of course—posh fucker!”

“The man does a beautiful waltz, but there didn’t seem to be much call for that at the disco… don’t know what they were doing but I know that I was terrible at it”

Through her laughter, Lily struggled to say, “It’s called the hustle—here, let me show you!”  She jumped to her feet, her boots thudding against the planks of the stands.  “Go on, stand up!”

“What are we doing?” asked James as he let her manhandle him to his feet.

“I’ll teach you!” she said, her face glowing in the setting sun.  “Then next time when you go, you’ll be a pro and it’ll just be Sirius…”  She started laughing again.  “Well, come on!  Disco has a four/four beat—"

“You want to teach me up here?  Evans, this may come as some surprise, but we’re an hundred meters above the ground right now.”

“The hustle’s basically just fancy walking—or at least the only steps you have any chance at learning before dinner are…”  She did a little twirl, her long coat fanning out around her.  “Scared, Potter?”

“This is all a ruse to bump me off, isn’t it.”  She was moving his hands for him, from his waist into the air and back again.  “I can just see it now—you spinning me around, getting me dizzy, going to dip me… And then I, blindly trusting you, let you throw me off of the stands to my death.”

“Look, do you want to show Sirius up or what?”

He really did.  “Alright, Evans—do your worst.”

Chapter Text

James had poured over events and conversations, small moments and big ones, different outfits, new haircuts, casual touches, and every memory he had of Lily Evans, searching for a moment when it all started.  But after years of investigation, he was forced to admit that there was no particular interaction that he could blame.  The truth was, it had all been over for him from the moment they met.

He couldn’t recall a time when she hadn’t been lurking somewhere in his thoughts, but when he was younger he simply hadn’t had a name to put to those feelings.  They were something he would glimpse out of the corner of his eye, or which would fill the room like shadows as he drifted into sleep—always present, but too big and obscure to look at directly.

It was probably around fifth year that he figured out that he might actually be into Evans.  Like, in a dating way.  Although even then he had the inkling that that was underselling it a little.  And as anyone could (and his mates frequently did) inform him, he’d fucked it up spectacularly.  Who asks a girl out while he has another guy suspended upside-down in front of her?  Morons and James Potter—that’s who.

So then there was the summer, when she (rightfully) hated his guts, and thought of him as less than a worm, and maybe it wasn’t just a crush but probably actually love, and what good would that do now?  (Sirius maintained that he’d never been more unbearable than he was last summer, but in fairness to himself, it’s not like he was having a great time either.)

Now he knew that he hadn’t known anything at all.  Whatever he’d felt last year had been nothing, nothing, compared to this.

He was still sitting a few seats down from her at the breakfast table, but it was worlds apart from the breakfast table of a few weeks ago—now, they were in the same conversations, laughed at the same jokes, even passed the teapot back and forth in a casual, pleasant manner.  Sirius would have mocked him for being so openly and obviously thrilled by a relationship barely a step above acquaintances, but it was the truth.

Even to be casually friendly with Lily was a miracle compared to the purgatory he had been in before.  The first semester of school had been an endless cycle of noticing everything she did or said, and then reminding himself he wasn’t supposed to do that anymore, and forcing himself to avert his eyes.  He didn’t have to look away anymore.  Obviously there were limits, and he wasn’t about to start proclaiming his undying love for her (no matter how honest it might be to say), but here, now, he was allowed to watch her eat her toast and allowed to notice the emphatic gestures she made as she spoke.

Blissfully, he abandoned Remus to make small talk with Peter’s very chatty girlfriend (he still didn’t know her name) and focused instead on Lily’s animated conversation with Alice.  They seemed to be reading more than one newspaper, the sheets spreading across the table and multiplying with every passing second.

Frank walked up to the table, grinning.  “Hello, girls—who’s the man!”

“I’m assuming you,” said Lily, not looking up from her paper.

“A little more enthusiasm, if you please—guess what this is!”  From behind his back he pulled another newspaper, brandishing it with pride.

“Is that…”

“Yesterday’s Guardian—” was all he got out, before both girls lunged for it.  Lily, knocking over her half-full goblet, won out, and began skimming the headlines without even a glance to spare for the pumpkin juice soaking into her bacon.  James leaned across the table and righted her goblet, before looking up into Marlene’s knowing eyes.  Caught, he turned back to his plate, cheeks heating.

“Any casualties?” Alice was asking—casualties?  There hadn’t been any accidents in the Prophet, from what he’d seen.  He began listening more closely.

“No,” Frank answered as he joined them at the table, taking Alice’s hand in one of his and beginning to eat her leftovers with the other.  “Or, one injured cabbie, but they think he’ll pull through.”

“Honestly, god bless you, Frank,” said Lily, fervently.  “Mum’s letter arrived today and all she said was bombing—she’s absolute rubbish for details—didn’t even say where…”

“Do they say it’s the IRA*?” asked Alice—Lily still hadn’t relinquished her hold on the paper.

“No… but it must be, what with Bloody Sunday** coming up…”  Lily sighed, and set the paper back down.  “All that, and to take out a couple of shops…”

“Thought you were pro-independence,” said Frank through a mouthful of porridge.

“As an Irish girl,” said Lily haughtily, “it is my prerogative to be both pro and con the IRA.”

James had heard enough to know that there was something he was missing.  “Can I see this?” he asked, tugging on one of the discarded sheets of newspaper lying scattered on the table.  Lily lifted her elbow automatically, letting the paper slide out, but then she looked down at it again, frowning.  James froze, arm awkwardly extended across the table.

“You’d better have this one,” she said, tossing him the one Frank had brought.  “It’s more recent.  That one’s over a week out of date… it’s next to impossible to get muggle papers out here.”

He nodded, taking the paper and beginning to scan the headlines.  There was the usual jarring moment of wondering if the paper was broken, before his brain kicked in to remind him that Lily had said it was a muggle paper, and therefore wouldn’t move.  The headlines, packed with unfamiliar terms like “Nuclear waste” and “President Carter,” were dominated by the screaming “BOMBERS RETURN TO WEST END.”  Return?  He’d missed multiple bombings?

It only took a few minutes to read the rest of the article, but before he was even done he knew he needed to write and ask his parents for an explanation.  He was aware, of course, that relations between Ireland and England were tense—the last diplomatic event his dad had dragged him along to had made that very clear—but he hadn’t known it was the same in the muggle world.  By the looks of the article, things were even worse for muggles.  Had there really been no mention of this chaos in the Prophet?

Beside him, the girls had moved on to an up and coming rock star who was interviewed on page six of the Prophet.  Lily reached out a hand and snagged Sirius by the elbow, drawing him into the conversation.

“Admit it, Black—you’ve been living a secret double life as a singer this whole time!”

“Ooh, or,” Mary jumped in, “or you have an identical twin who’s pursued their musical dreams, leaving you behind!”

“Anything you have to say for yourself, Black?  Explain the uncanny resemblance between yourself and Stubby Boardman at once!”

Before Lily had shoved the paper underneath his nose, Sirius had been entirely silent.  He’d apparently given up on trying to speak to James, Remus, and even Peter, but he never failed to sit near enough to them to be noticed.

As if James could ever not notice him.  It went against every instinct he’d developed over the past five—almost six—years, to ignore Sirius when he was so obviously in pain.  But James had made a decision, and he was going to stick to it, no matter how difficult it was.  And Lily had said that she thought he was doing the right thing.  He’d clung to that shamelessly over the past two weeks.

But Lily didn’t know everything.  She didn’t know, even, what all it was that Sirius had done.  He didn’t like to think about how she might react if she found out—for all the things that were said and done at the end of fifth year, he couldn’t imagine her shrugging and ignoring attempts on a former friend’s life.  Even he hadn’t been able to ignore it, and it wasn’t as if he felt that Snape’s continued existence was in any way improving the world.  But what Sirius had done…

It hadn’t taken very long into their friendship for James to realize that there were a lot of things that Sirius had never been taught—that there might always be things that James had to be watchful for, and try to catch and correct before Sirius hurt himself or someone else with them.  Mostly about the pureblood propaganda he used to parrot, but also bigger, more abstract things, like that a parent should be someone you trust, that other people aren’t servants, and family are people who love you.  And yet, somehow, he’d missed this.

That he’d never anticipated this… it made him afraid, deep inside, for the future.  Afraid that even if Remus forgave Sirius and they were all friends again, that Sirius wouldn’t have learned anything, and that James would spend the rest of his life watching Sirius, so that he couldn’t do something like this ever again.

Down the table, Lily and Mary were doing a startlingly accurate impression of Sirius’ posh accent and using it to read quotes from the article, to Alice and Frank’s great enjoyment.

The past two weeks had followed a similar pattern: the sixth year girls, who had served as a demarcation line between warring states for months now, were slowly being transformed by Lily into more of a no man’s land, with neutral territory that hostile parties could lay down their weapons and enter.  It even seemed to be working—he was surprised every time, but before his eyes Sirius was grinning, his old bark-like laugh even making an appearance.  It had been a long time since he’d heard that laugh.

On James’ left, Remus abruptly stood, made curt excuses to Peter’s girlfriend, and left the hall.  Sirius, laughter fading from his face, watched him go in silence.  He returned to staring at his plate, dark mood back.  None of Lily’s cheerful attempts at conversation seemed able to coax him out of it again.

~

Dorcas watched this same exchange with narrowed eyes.  Whatever Lily was playing at with Sirius Black, she didn’t like to see it.  By the time Lily approached her to ask about switching partners in Transfiguration, she was determined to say something—even if Lily didn’t want to hear it.

Lily’s face was bright, eager in a way that she hadn’t been for most of the year.  For a moment, Dorcas wavered.  Hadn’t she spent the past few months watching as her friend drifted through the day, speaking only when spoken to, giving automatic smiles that dropped when she thought she was no longer observed?  But Lily turned and threw Black an unsubtle thumbs up, and she knew she couldn’t let it slide any longer.

“Lily,” Dorcas started this conversation as aggressively as she started everything.  “What the hell is going on with you two?”

Lily looked at her, startled.  She clearly hadn’t expected this line of questioning—had probably thought that Dorcas would only complain about being forced to work with cheese-boy.  Which, don’t get her wrong, she hated cheese-boy, but there were bigger issues at stake.

Seeing that Lily had decided not to understand her meaning, Dorcas cut her off to make herself unavoidably clear.  “Yeah, yeah, I get wanting better grades in Transfig—and Merlin knows he’s talented—but it’s more than just that, isn’t it.”

To her surprise, Lily’s eyes flickered—not to Black—but to Potter as he passed them in the hall, an almost guilty expression on her face.  And Dorcas could put two and two together.

“Did he put you up to this?”  She knew that her voice was getting louder, but she didn’t bother to lower it.  If Lily was going to let whatever pointless dance she was doing with Potter put her in harm’s way… It was infuriating.  “What, he’s sick of holding Black’s leash, so he thinks he can just pass it off to you?  He’s not your responsibility!”

Lily’s mouth dropped open in shock.  “That’s not… that’s crazy!  I’m not ‘taking responsibility’ for Black—we’re friends now, and he’s lonely, and, and, and I do need help in transfiguration!”  She crossed her arms in an obvious so-there gesture.

Dorcas forced herself to be patient.  She forgot, sometimes, how little Lily knew about the wizarding world.  She wouldn’t think to be wary—she probably didn’t realize that this was about more than Black’s reputation as an incredible bastard.  Although, Dorcas mused, years of sharing a dorm with Mary had taught her that straight girls tended to find incredible bastards appealing.  She’d thought Lily was more sensible than that, though.

Speaking slowly and carefully, so as not to be misunderstood, Dorcas began, “Lily, you need to be careful with that boy.  Black is dangerous—especially to you.”

Predictably, Lily didn’t take her meaning, flaring up indignantly in the bastard’s defense.  And wasn’t this a familiar scene—one she’d imagined, after fifth year OWLs, that they’d never have to repeat.  She hoped it wasn’t too late to at least convince Lily to be cautious, but if her flushed cheeks were anything to go by, it would be.

“It’s crazy to say something like that!  I mean, it’s not like you’re not friends with him as well!”

“But I’m not friends with him, Lily.”

“Well, you don’t exactly cross the street to get away from him!  We were just all eating bloody breakfast together…”

“Yeah, we talk, we have a laugh, but it’s different with you.  You care about him.”

Lily didn’t respond, but the answer was obvious.

“He’s a Black, Lily.  That whole family is dangerous!  Have you seen the rubbish they publish in the Prophet’s op-eds?  I know you like to give everyone a chance, but a Black is taking things a little too far…”

Lily’s eyes flashed.  “He was disowned, Dorcas.  What do you think that was about, then?”

Dorcas had no answer to this.  Up to now she’d assumed he’d done something stupid and embarrassing (more stupid and embarrassing than usual, that is).  Or that his family had found out about his… preferences, or he’d refused an arranged match, and they’d gone traditional pureblood about it.  Something along those lines, at any rate.  The Blacks were nutty about tradition.  Honestly, she was surprised they hadn’t thrown him out at age eleven, when he was first sorted into Gryffindor.  It was a sign of how desperate they were, with only two males in the entire circle of Black cousins, that they’d tolerated him for so long.  That Lily thought it was about muggleborn rights… it was hard to picture Black putting himself on the line for something that would never affect him.

Her skepticism must have showed on her face, because Lily was digging her heels in, looking mulish.  “If anyone’s buying into blood-rhetoric here it’s you—a person’s family doesn’t define them!”

Dorcas possibly wasn’t the best person to talk to her about this, because she could feel her own temper making her blunter than would have been ideal.  But Mary hated conflict, and Alice—who Lily might actually have listened to—would also want to give Black the benefit of the doubt, and Marlene was obviously useless.  So it fell to Dorcas, then, to say gracelessly, “Are you sure you aren’t just replacing one pet save-the-world project with another?  I know you’re not stupid enough not to see that this could be Snape all over again.”

Lily’s face, which had been flushed with frustration, went white.  “It’s not.  Sirius saved my life!”  Her voice was shaking with the effort of remaining calm.  “Don’t say this shit to me ever again.”  She stormed off, presumably to Transfiguration with Sirius Black.

Dorcas was left standing in the hall, so preoccupied with Lily’s final words—saved her life?  When?  How?—that she almost didn’t make it to Transfiguration herself.  By the time she slid into her seat, wrinkling her nose at the smell of cheese, Lily was firmly ensconced next to Black, chatting away almost manically, deliberately avoiding Dorcas’ gaze.  Well, she’d tried.

~

Partnering with Sirius Black was the most fun Lily had had in class for a long time.  Which was really saying something, since Transfiguration had never been one of her favorite classes.  (A contrary whisper at the back of her mind reminded her of fifth year Transfig, with James, but she dismissed it).  Potions had become something only to endure, a purgatory of Snape’s eyes on the back of her neck, punctuated only by Slughorn’s tactless comments mourning the loss of his dream team.  And while Charms was usually interesting, partnering with Mary was nothing like working with Sirius.

Sirius was a force of chaos at the best of times, and in Transfiguration he was at his peak, buoyed by both his own astonishing talent and McGonagall’s obvious indulgence.  Having finished their assignment (conjuring birds from thin air), he was wasting his time transfiguring various items of Lily’s while her back was turned.

“Get stuffed, Black!” Lily shouted, loud enough for McGonagall to give them a quelling look.  Lily continued in a furious whisper.  “Turn my quill back IMMEDIATELY—some of us need these notes!”

“I’m helping,” said Sirius, in his most unhelpful tone of voice.  “I’m motivating you—turn it back into a quill yourself, why don’t you?”

Muttering ugly threats under her breath, Lily took aim at her quill—now a great tit, which she was sure wasn’t a coincidental choice of species—and attempted to reverse it.  Nothing happened other than the bird, slightly stunned, falling out of the air and into her lap.

“See?  I told you it wouldn’t…”

“That’s weird.”  Sirius was in investigative mode now, the laughter in his voice subsiding as he examined the bird/quill thoughtfully.  “You should have been able to do that… It’s not any harder than stuff I’ve watched you do before…”

“I’ve regressed,” sighed Lily, slumping back into her chair.  “Maybe interacting with you for prolonged periods of time is killing off my brain cells…”

“Your what?”

“I’ll explain later,” Lily promised.  It was comforting to be reminded, at a time like this, that wizards knew absolutely nothing at all.  “First, you fix that thing!”

“I think it’s the same problem as before,” said Sirius, with the bird/quill now perched on his fingers.  He looked like a Disney princess, with his glossy hair and his animal companion.  Lily attempted to dismiss the image and focus, but it was incredibly distracting.  Maybe she should see if she could find a recording of Cinderella to show him next.

“And what, oh great and all-knowing master of transfiguration, would that problem be?”

“You don’t actually want to change it.”  Sirius frowned at her over the top of the bird.  “Why not?”

Lily scowled.  “It seems fucked up to kill it!  It’s not the bird’s fault you made it!”

Sirius blinked at her.  “Evans, it’s not real—you know that, right?”

“What do you mean, ‘it’s not real’—look at it!”

“It’s just a mimic—and not even a very strong one!  Just watch, it’ll start to slide back into the quill in a few hours…”

“Really?  But you’re so good at transfiguration… I thought it was just mine that did that…”

They both stared at the great tit.  “To make a real bird, I’d have to, like, know how a bird worked.  And even then you can’t make something that’s actually alive with magic.  Even really powerful wizards have only been able to make golems or homunculi, never real life…”

“Oh my god,” said Lily, “oh my god, you don’t even know what a cell is.” 

Sirius let out a bark of laughter.  “Evans, did you think we just spent all transfiguration murdering animals in cold blood?”

Lily ignored him.  “I wonder what would happen, if you dissected that thing… I mean, what would even be inside it?”

“Dunno,” Sirius shrugged.  “More feathers, maybe?”

With more decisiveness behind her movements this time, Lily jabbed her wand at the little creature circling their heads.  Her quill drifted down innocently.

“Right,” said Sirius, grinning.  “Now that you’re feeling a little more bloodthirsty, maybe you should get to the actual assignment?”

“Words I never thought I’d hear Sirius Black say… advocating for completing the assignment!”

“Oh, I’m a big fan of other people getting work done, especially when I get to sit back and criticize—ouch!  Did you make that thing bite me?”  Sirius’s flock of assorted tropical birds, conjured at the beginning of class, had taken a sudden interest in his fingers and he was struggling to fend them off.  “Turning my own creations against me!  Charms are cheating!”

Lily, laughing hysterically, felt eyes on her.  She hadn’t known who she’d expected to see when she looked up—possibly McGonagall had decided to pay lip service to reigning Sirius in, or even James looking to see how their partner switch was going, but who she saw was Remus.  Even from across the room, the hurt in his eyes was plain.  Peter, ignored while Remus watched the scene Lily and Sirius were causing, flipped frantically through their textbook, muttering to himself.

Almost the moment their eyes met, Remus blinked.  Like a shutter slamming down over a window, the betrayal on his face vanished, leaving only blankness.  But he couldn’t disguise what she’d already seen.

“Fuck,” muttered Lily, sitting back down in her chair and idly releasing the charm that had been tormenting Sirius.  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t considered the possibility, but she’d selfishly hoped not to have to deal with it yet.  She hadn’t realized it would be this bad, though.  She had to talk to Remus—sooner rather than later.  She’d promised James that they would fix this, but the look on Remus’ face gave her the anxious feeling that she was only making things worse.

~

Remus waited for Lily by the portrait hole, like he always did.  There was no reason to go the whole way to the established starting point of prefects rounds when they lived in the same house.  Besides, Lily also tended to be less late when she wasn’t the sole party responsible for getting herself the whole way to the meeting point.

Speaking of which, she was just about late right now.  At that moment, Lily burst out of the portrait hole, hopping on one foot while she tried to pull her boot on—Remus could see her start to overbalance before she actually fell.  At the last moment, he put out his hand to steady her.  She grasped it gratefully, giving one last yank to the tab at the back of her docs before stomping her foot down hard on the ground.

“Thanks babes,” she said, dropping his hand to push her messy red hair out of her face.  “I’m not late, am I?”

It was so predictable, he couldn’t help his smile.  She took it for the answer that it was, saying,  “I try!  I swear I do!”

They set off down the corridor, Lily spinning this week’s elaborate excuse as they went.  “You see, this time it really wasn’t my fault—Marlene borrowed my watch last week so that she could do those timed laps Potter set all the chasers, which are in my opinion akin to torture and thus against the Geneva convention—”

“—sports teams, of course, being a notable group protected under the Geneva convention—"

“ANYWAY, since Marlene never learned how to do a timer charm, she took my watch—without asking, of course—and then she went and dropped it somewhere!  Maybe on the field?  She thinks?  But it’s gone and we can’t find it anywhere!”

“I am assuming that at some point in this classical tragedy somebody thought to try accio?”

Lily glared at him.  It was her reflexive response to the dry tone he brought out when he wanted to be his most sarcastic, but he could see the moment when his words sunk in and she started to think back on events.  “You know what… I never even asked?  God, watch Marlene have not even bothered to look for it…  It would be Classic Marlene…”

He studied the back of her head as she walked on before him, keeping up a steady stream of chatter, mostly about other things of hers Marlene had carelessly abandoned in other places.  Remus was grateful that she didn’t seem to need his input to keep the conversation flowing, but he didn’t like the space it gave him to think.

He let her words wash over him, only half listening.  He didn’t have to see Lily’s face to know the moments where she would roll her eyes, or grin, or gesture for emphasis.  It was a familiar ritual, spending a couple of hours a week walking the nighttime castle, airing petty grievances with roommates (Lily was the only person he could bitch about James and Sirius to and know that she would back him up), complaining about their classes (how they both suffered in transfiguration), or exchanging records and books.  She was one of the few people other than himself who read both wizard and muggle literature, and the two of them had wasted many an evening “patrolling,” but actually at a dead stand-still in a hallway halfway through their route, caught up in a new book they’d just wanted to take a look at.

He could feel his thoughts slip into a familiar rut—a sort of silent bargaining that he’d never shaken himself of.  He knew it was useless, but he couldn’t help the way his brain would present its evidence, laying out its arguments as if it could convince the universe to change its mind.  Hadn’t they devoured 100 Years of Solitude together, and made a pact to learn Spanish and travel through South America before they turned twenty-one?  Debated if Shakespeare was wizard or muggle?  Speculated on the content and survival of any writings by Merlin?  On his nightstand was a copy of Roots—Alice had loaned it to Lily, and she had passed it on to Remus.  He’d finished it over break, but with the new partner rotations they hadn’t even had a chance to discuss it yet.

It was going to hurt, giving this up.  He considered it impassively, weighing it against the other losses of his sixteen years.  Other things had hurt more.  If this was what Sirius decided to take from him, well, he’d taken worse.

Remus remembered third year, when Lily found him in the library after dinner and asked him if it was true he was a werewolf.  Telling him it didn’t change anything for her, with a loyalty that reminded him of James, but with an empathy born of understanding that none of his other friends could offer.  She’d been so considerate about it, in her heartfelt, stubborn way, casting muffliato first, to ensure that they wouldn’t be overheard.  Even if she hadn’t known exactly why, coming from a muggle family as she did, she knew that it was important to him to keep it a secret.  And then she had kept his secret—and he knew that couldn’t have been easy, the way that Snape had been after it like a dog with a bone all these years.  Ironically, he was pretty sure that she and Snape had invented that muffliato charm together.  It had been the first time he’d seen it, at any rate.

Lily paused at the turn in the corridor, looking back at Remus, who had been lagging behind, with concern.  Okay, so maybe this would hurt more than he’d anticipated.

“You’re quiet,” she said, hesitantly.

He only hummed in response—he wasn’t sure how to make casual conversation with her right now, so it was probably better to be silent.

“Did you see the Sex Pistols got dropped again?”  Now Lily was using her fake cheerful voice—she usually didn’t bother, with him.  She must have been feeling the elephant in the room shifting its weight as well.

Abruptly, he tired of this.  Better to just rip the plaster off, and let her cut him loose, tell him she was choosing Sirius instead.  “Why don’t you just say what you’re really thinking about,” he said.  As always, his voice was steady, not too soft or too loud for the empty corridor.

Lily’s face—so expressive—crumpled in distress.  “Oh, Remus—I’m so sorry!  I’ve been worrying about Sirius now that he’s all by himself, but that doesn’t mean… I don’t want it to…  Oh, I don’t know how to say this!”

She stomped a few steps over to the wall and kicked it.  He was pretty sure that she was wearing his old doc martins.  While he was trying to figure out if they were the same ones he’d given her in fifth year, or if she’d bought ones of her own, she turned back around and faced him.

Apparently she’d prepared a speech while she was kicking the wall, because her words came out oddly formal.  It took him a moment to register the content of what she was saying, rather than fixating on how she said it.  “Remus—I know that I’ve been spending more time with Sirius lately, mostly because he doesn’t have a lot of people talking to him right now, but I don’t want to sacrifice our friendship either.”

It wasn’t exactly what he’d expected.  When he stayed silent, Lily rushed to explain herself more.  “I know… some.  Of what he did to you.  And if you want…”  She took a deep breath.  “If you want, I’ll stop.”

He could see the pain on her face: she obviously didn’t want to have to go through with what she was offering.  He could sympathize with that reluctance, of course, but it didn’t do much to quell the anger.  Anger was always on a slow simmer inside of Remus, anyway.  For a while he’d thought it was the wolf that brought the anger, but recently he’d begun to wonder if maybe it was all from him.  Looking at Lily’s distress, her big, pleading green eyes, it flared into life.

He wondered what she would say if she knew everything; if she would still be this torn up about Sirius Black if she knew what he’d really done.  When had the two of them become close enough that Lily would be on the verge of tears at the thought of cutting ties with him?

He could do it—he could tell her the truth.  That Sirius had tried to kill someone.  More importantly, who it was that Sirius had tried to kill.  He could shatter whatever was building between them, and all it would take was the truth.

Almost as soon as the thought formed, he dismissed it.  What would be the point, after all?  It would only be cruel, to use Snape against her like that.  And there was no good reason to be cruel to her—none of this bloody mess was Lily’s fault.  What she was offering was more than he’d expected, anyway.

Slowly, he nodded at her.  “It’s okay, Lily.  I understand.”

“And you’re not mad at me?”

“No.  I’m not mad at you.”  He should take what he could get.

When Lily, with a weepy smile, threw her arms around him and squeezed with all of her strength, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as he’d thought it was going to.

Chapter Text

At lunch Mary was forced to turn down yet another boy asking her to Hogsmeade for Valentine’s weekend.  It was flattering, of course, to be desired, but these boys had the unfortunate luck to interrupt something Mary cared about far more than dates or being desired, and that was—

“Fleetwood Mac’s released a new album,” said Lily, slapping her edition of Rolling Stone down on the table.

“It says, set to release,” said Marlene, leaning over.

“Yeah, but this is last month’s,” said Lily.  “You would not believe the struggle to get this thing here—Petunia used to send hers when she was done with it, but this year she decided that she was too old for music…”

“Your sister’s absolutely mental,” added Sirius, leaning over Lily’s shoulder and grabbing her pumpkin juice.  She took a half-hearted swing at him which he easily sidestepped, plopping down on the bench next to her.

“Yeah, thanks, Black, now that the class is all caught up—”

Sirius only grinned in response.  Mary was getting used to him being around more, but it was still strange.  After Christmas, Lily had been so weird about him, but then some unspoken shift had occurred, and he’d been glued to Lily’s side ever since, like a sarcastic, bratty shadow.  Dorcas was very unhappy with this development.  Marlene, like she usually did whenever a situation seemed complicated, refused to admit to having any opinion on the matter at all.  Alice thought it was nice, and Frank was hopeful Lily would be a stabilizing influence (something Mary found a bit rich, even coming from someone as optimistic as Frank).  Personally, she veered between envy at the casual way that Lily hauled him around, like a handsome accessory, and relief that whatever was going on with Sirius Black wasn’t her problem.

Mostly, she was just confused.  The two of them were constantly bickering, and yet, like clockwork, Sirius Black would settle in next to Lily Evans in classes, at meals, even in the common room (at least when his other mates weren’t present, at which times he tended to make himself scarce).  And Lily never kicked him out—ever!  Mary would never have put up with this behavior from a man, even one as good-looking as Sirius, but Lily just rolled her eyes and shoved his arm off of her shoulders.

“Focus, please?  This is a matter of life and death?”  Black settled down obediently, and Lily shook the pages of Rolling Stone before she continued.  “Had to get my mates to mail their copy, and not only were they bloody pricks about mailing to Scotland, they only do muggle mail, obviously.  So everyone say thank you, Lily’s primary school mates, yeah?”

Mary chorused a reverent, “thank you,” along with the rest of them, before grabbing for the magazine.  There was a tantalizing glimpse of an album cover, with its swirling gauze scarves, before Marlene snatched it out of her hands.  “Hey!  Since when do you care about Fleetwood Mac?”

“Um, only since Stevie Nicks wrote ‘Rhiannon’ about me, specifically?” said Marlene, as if it was obvious.  Mary, who had always privately fancied that ‘Rhiannon’ might be about herself, opened her mouth to object, but was cut off by Lily.

“Actually, Rhiannon is an Irish goddess, so that makes the song about me, don’t you think?”

Mary and Marlene opened their mouths, ready to debate this point, but Sirius, humiliatingly, shut the whole conversation down with a condescending laugh.  “Really, Evans?  You reckon you ring like a bell through the night?”

Lily and Mary both flushed, Lily muttering, “shut up, Black.”  That settled it—there was no way that this… attachment… could be romantic, not after comments like that one!  But if it wasn’t romantic, then what could possibly have brought about such a change?

Marlene, who wouldn’t understand the concept of embarrassment if it bit her on the nose, ignored him.  “I’m sure Stevie Nicks is a witch… We only don’t know her because she’s American.  There’s just no way…”

“That’s not important,” said Lily, loudly.  “What’s important is figuring out how we’re going to get it!  I don’t fancy sending records through the muggle post, so that’s out.  And Petunia… she’s busy with the wedding.  And she hates using owls, anyway.”

“How does Lupin get his records, then?” asked Dorcas.  She didn’t seem to notice the way Sirius stiffened at the mention of Remus Lupin, but Mary saw.  She also saw the way that Lily leaned more closely into Sirius’ side, as if she could feel his reaction without seeing it.  So that, whatever had happened there, wasn’t over either.

“Please,” scoffed Lily.  “Like Remus would be caught dead with California pop… He’s useless to this cause—”

Sirius stood abruptly.  Lily caught his wrist before he could leave.  “We could use your help, you know.  We might need to sneak out of the castle—how am I supposed to do that without you?”  Lily spoke quietly—for some reason she didn’t seem to want the rest of the table involved in whatever silent tug-of-war was going on between the two of them.  Dorcas and Marlene moved on, flipping to the features of the magazine and starting to read, but Mary was watching closely.

It seemed for a moment that Sirius might cave—that he would concede to Lily’s wishes and sit back down again, but at the crucial moment James Potter’s loud laugh was heard.  The rest of the sixth year boys had entered the Great Hall, and Sirius, looking miserable, yanked his arm out of Lily’s hand and left.

Lily sighed.  She leaned her head on her hand, looking down at her plate with a sad, resigned sort of expression.  It took her a moment before she noticed Mary still watching her, and looked up to meet her gaze.  “Are you going to tell me to cut him off, too?” she said.  There was an edge of bitterness to her tone that made Mary blink.

“No, I…  Never mind.  It’s just… I don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get?” snapped Lily.

James, Remus, and Peter all piled onto the benches next to Marlene, squeezing her dramatically between them.  Lily, like she always did, visibly reacted to James’ presence, then attempted to mask her own reaction.  For his part, James might have appeared to be preoccupied with putting Marlene in a headlock, but his eyes kept flickering to Lily.  It seemed insane that the two of them hadn’t figured things out yet…

Possibly she should change her date in the pool that she, Marlene, Dorcas, and Frank had going.  But she looked at Lily’s straight back, the studied, deliberate casualness with which she sipped her pumpkin juice, and decided against it.  There was no way that Lily was going to put the pieces together until she was good and ready.

That didn’t mean Mary couldn’t try to give her a little hint.  “Is this about James?” she asked.

Lily started so violently she splashed her pumpkin juice.  “Is what!—” she paused, dropped her voice, and began again.  “Is what about him?” she hissed.

“The Sirius thing.  You know, are you doing it to piss him off, maybe?”  Lily looked appalled, as though something like that had never crossed her mind.  As if she hadn’t spent a decent percentage of the school year practically twitching with anger whenever James Potter’s name was mentioned.

It was true that Lily and James had been getting along better recently.  That blow-up fight, whatever it was about, seemed to have cleared the air in a way that Mary simply could not understand.  Marlene had explained to her that when her brothers fought, things in the house would be hell until they went outside and took a couple of swings at each other.  After someone got hit, the fight was usually over, and never even discussed again.  It was a compelling theory.  Stupid, sure, but stupid in the particular bull-headed way that Lily favored.

“Okay,” Mary continued.  “Are you doing it because James asked you to, then?”

Lily, to her surprise, looked sad again.  “Is it so hard to believe that I might just be friends with Sirius?”

In the face of Sad Lily, Mary was forced to drop it.  Personally, she didn’t see the point of being friends with boys—they were only good for one thing, after all.  Speaking of which, a second Hufflepuff arrived to ask her out for Valentine’s day.

Mary dismissed him more coldly than the last.  Valentine’s weekend was obviously going to be devoted to her girlfriends, and most likely to getting to Inverness to find and buy Rumors.  Dates were a low priority compared to music and her friends.

~

Saturday morning dawned bright and clear, sunny enough to tempt the castle’s inhabitants out of doors into the February cold for the Hogsmeade weekend.  Dorcas and Marlene were preparing for their traditional Valentine’s piss-up, where they ensconced themselves in Madame Puddifoot’s and played an elaborate drinking game designed around other people’s failed dates.  Their presence was a constant trial to Puddifoot herself, but they did pay for an obscene number of scones, and so an impasse had been reached.  If Puddifoot could have proved they were spiking their tea, she would absolutely have thrown them out, so a large part of the Valentine’s Day fun came from designing more and more elaborate ways to smuggle alcohol into a tea shop.

Not for the first time, Lily wished that Dorcas wasn’t so set against Sirius—drinking every time a girl cried, or called her friends for a rescue, or every time a boy only talked about himself, or couldn’t get up the nerve to hold his date’s hand… these were the types of condescending dick moves that he would have been proud to be a part of.  And at least then she could have been sure that he wasn’t off drinking alone somewhere on this, the day that the castle’s happy couples devoted to rubbing their relationships in everyone’s faces.

She’d invited him along to Inverness with her and Mary, but he’d turned her down flat.  She couldn’t tell if it was because he had other plans or because he didn’t like Mary, but he wouldn’t be moved on the issue.

One thing he had done was tell her where the secret passage was and how to open it.  It was a Hogsmeade weekend so she didn’t really need to use it, and she already had a pretty good idea where it was hidden (behind the mirror on the fourth floor!), but she recognized a gesture when she received one.  Sirius made her swear never to show it to anyone else on pain of brutal dismemberment by the giant squid, but that didn’t do much to quell the bubbly feeling that being in on the secret gave her.  She’d just have to convince Mary to close her eyes.

~

As Lily helped a blindfolded Mary navigate down the stone steps inside the passage, she thought about what a good thing it was Mary with her and not Dorcas or Marlene—Mary was so much more accommodating.  Dorcas would have been offended at the very idea of Lily protecting Sirius’ secrets, and Marlene would have peeked for sure.  But all it took with Mary was a promise to stop for a couple of fashion mags and some more blue eyeshadow, and she was tying the blindfold on cheerfully enough.

“Anything to stay inside longer, babes.  I’ve been ready for spring for months now, but it really takes its time in the highlands!”

“Mary, it’s February—and it’s barely even snowed yet!  It’s not allowed to get warm until I’ve had my one good snowstorm, you hear me?”

“Boo,” said Mary, before she stumbled on a rock and yelped.  “If Sirius Black and you are so tight now, why don’t you get him to clean this place up a little?  At least smooth the ground out!”

Lily laughed, but she held Mary a little bit closer.  She’d been worried that Mary would also be upset about her and Sirius, but she seemed to be taking it in stride.  Dorcas was one thing—Lily knew that she was protective, just like she knew that her bark was worse than her bite—but Mary…  She didn’t think she could stand to have Mary making the same accusations and comparisons to Snape.  “I actually told him the same thing, once.”

“What’s his excuse for the state of this place, then?  I wore platforms, and I know they’re getting scuffed.”

“It’s harder than you might think, to renovate a magical building that’s this old.  He was telling me about the last time his parents expanded their London place, and apparently it required blood magic!  And if the building doesn’t like any of the changes, and it’s a strong enough place, it’ll just… go back to the way it was and there’s nothing to be done about it.  It’s part of why Hogwarts is so illogical, you know.”

“I’m hearing a lot of words, but they all just sound like excuses for not sweeping the floor once in a while…”

~

Later that afternoon, having acquired the record, magazines, eyeshadow, and a few too many biscuits, Mary and Lily sat in the window of a shop, looking out at the town of Inverness.  Lily was feeling lazy, and warm, and content to idly people-watch without contributing much to Mary’s chatter.  As cold as it was, the street wasn’t particularly busy, but occasionally people (mostly couples) would stroll by.

Mary was reading bits of her magazine aloud—that was one of the more relaxing things about hanging out with Mary.  She could fill a silence with pleasant but ultimately pointless conversation, and Lily wouldn’t have to do much to keep things going.  It actually was a little like talking to Sirius.  He had a knack for the type of companionable, entertaining monologue that Mary was displaying now—it was just that Sirius’ tended to be pure nonsense, some bit he was performing, while Mary’s were mostly opinions on things Lily didn’t know anything about.  It wasn’t like talking to James at all.

Lily was watching a laughing young man spinning a woman in circles on the sidewalk when Mary decided to abandon her magazine.

“What is going on with you two, then?”

Lily resurfaced.  “Me and Sirius?  I told you… We’re friends…”

“No—although you can’t fool me, Lily.  I know there’s a story there somewhere.  But no.  I meant you and James.”

Lily frowned down at her cup of tea, unsure of how to answer Mary.  The truth was, she still didn’t know what was going on with James.  “We’re friends too,” she tried, but it sounded false when she said it out loud.  “Or, at least, we’re trying to be friends?  We used to be friends.  I want to be his friend.  I want…”  What did she want?  She stirred the cooling dregs of her tea, concentrating on the grainy feeling of the remaining undissolved sugar at the bottom of the cup.  She could feel Mary waiting for her, patiently, but when she did speak it wasn’t what she’d intended to say at all.

“Sirius saved my life over Christmas.”  She didn’t need to look at Mary to know her mouth was hanging open, too many questions to pick just one to give voice to.  Lily continued speaking quickly, trying to get the whole story out in as little detail as possible.  She really hadn’t spoken about it before—not even to Sirius.  But she knew on some level that keeping it from her friends for as long as she had was foolish.  Especially from Mary.  If anyone would understand the fear, the threat… what it had meant to have someone show up like that, in the middle of all of it… surely it would be Mary.

When she’d finished, Mary was still silent.  Lily risked a look back at her, squinting a little through the sunlight.  It felt like she was waiting for some kind of judgement.  “I guess I’m exaggerating when I say ‘saved my life.’  It’s not like they would have killed me, probably.  But…”

Mary let out a slow, whistling breath.  “Gosh, Lily, when I said there was a story there, I only meant getting the truth about where all Marlene’s pot went!  Not murder and intrigue!”

“Weelll,” hedged Lily, “it’s not not about where Marlene’s pot went…”

Mary laughed, bringing a rush of relief.  “Don’t worry—I really do get it now.  There’s some things you can’t go through without becoming friends, I guess.”

Lily shrugged one shoulder, “I guess not.”

“And now I’ve got an in for all of the gossip about him!”  Mary looked thrilled at that, and for her part, Lily let herself relax into the conversation.  She should have known that this would all be much easier once she’d pushed through the secrets she’d let build up between them.

“Tell me, did he really give himself a tattoo?  Is it true that he worked as a model in France last summer?  How about the duck—did he really eat a live duck once?”

“Yes—muggle-style stick-and-poke, but it got infected and Potter’s mum had to take him to St. Mungo’s in the middle of the night.  No, he hates France.  And sort of—a duck at the park bit him once and he bit it back, and then Potter told everyone he was a wild animal who was let loose to hunt in the Forbidden Forest once a week.”

Mary would have been content to fact-check her encyclopedic knowledge of Hogwarts gossip all day, but there was more Lily needed to explain.  “It’s not just that night though… It’s…”  She looked at Mary, then glanced back out the window.  Outside a bus pulled up, discharging a little old lady and a young mother with her kids.

“He’s so interested in muggle stuff.  You should have seen him the first time we came here—he couldn’t get enough of it.”

“Did he look like a moron?”

Lily grinned.  “That’s one word for it—it was total impulse, you know.  He was still in his uniform!”

“To catch Sirius Black looking stupid is a lifelong dream of mine, you know.”

“It is a privilege granted to the few,” Lily said smugly, and the two of them smiled at each other.

Mary reached out to pour herself more tea, and Lily went back to watching people waiting at the bus stop.  “It’s nice to get out of Hogwarts for a minute,” said Lily.

“It is nice!  Nice being back in the real world for a bit.”

Lily hummed in agreement, although she wasn’t quite sure that she did agree.  The more years she spent at Hogwarts, the less sure she became as to which was the real world and which was the make-believe one.  Everything at Hogwarts was so vivid and intense, she sometimes feared it would eclipse the muggle world entirely, paint right over it until she hardly even noticed she’d lost something.

“Do you remember when Frank went to America with the international affairs office?”

“Yes.”  Mary’s voice sounded a little odd, but Lily dismissed it.  She was probably just surprised by the change in topic.

“He said that in America the muggle and wizarding worlds are much closer together than they are in England.  That a lot of muggles know about magic to some extent—that they even have muggle/wizard pubs and things like that…”

“I don’t know how they do it…”  Lily heard what Mary didn’t say, which was that it sounded too good to be true.

“Sirius makes me think, you know, that maybe it’s not so impossible after all.”

Mary didn’t respond for a long time.  Long enough to make Lily regret having said anything so hopelessly idealistic, but at the same time it made her want to argue in its defense.  They did it in America—it had to be possible here too.  If Sirius Black, of all people, would go to a charity shop and try on t-shirts with stupid slogans, then anything could happen.  She wasn’t asking for much.

When Mary did speak, Lily wasn’t expecting what she heard.  “And James?”

“James?”

“Potter.  Is that what you want from him?”

Lily wasn’t sure how to answer that.  Did she want James to come with her to Inverness, to dig through record shops and ride the bus?  Would that be enough?  “I want…”  For this not to be a game.  For this to matter to him as much as it did to her.  For him to see the people getting on and off of the grimy bus, belching exhaust, the man selling magazines and candy bars on the corner, the teenagers piled into a car with the radio turned up loud enough to shake the windows, and to see how important they all were.

“Want to know what I think?”

“Sure.”  Maybe Mary would have an answer to this—to why his opinion mattered so much to her.  “Hit me.”

“I think you want to snog him.”

“Mary!”

“I’m just saying!  You don’t want your only kiss to be Bertram Aubrey!  And you can’t lie, James is pretty cute… I know you have eyes, same as me—”

“I do not!  And besides, who says Aubrey’s my only kiss—”

“Ooh, Lily Evans, you’ve been holding out on me!  Spill!”

~

It had been a good day—a good day, Lily kept reminding herself as she lay in bed that night.  There was no reason for her to be lying awake, fighting the urge to get up and walk out into the nighttime castle.  And yet, like so many other nights before, she found herself surrendering to the impulse, ducking out from under the hangings of her four-poster, stepping into her boots.  It was a mark of how long this had been going on, she thought, that she’d had to start adding layers before venturing out—if the September castle had been a relief from the exhausting summer heat, the February castle was icy as a tomb.

Jacket on, wand in hand, Lily glided down the stairs, silent as a ghost.  The fire had mostly died by this time of night, and only a single lamp was on in the common room.  The darkness didn’t matter—she could have picked her way across the room blindfolded—but the lamp drew her eye.  It was one of the small table lamps, with amber shades and a brass stand you tapped with your wand to brighten or dim, sitting on top of one of the tables close to the boy’s staircase, casting a golden pool of light over the table and chairs and onto the polished wood floor.  In that pool of light sat James Potter, bent over his work.

The light spilled over his lowered head, catching in his dark hair and on the bronzed curve of his neck.  He was wearing a jumper of some dark, soft material, and the sleeves were pushed up, revealing the muscles of his forearms where they rested on the table top.  It was strange to see him so still and quiet—she thought of him as someone who was always moving, always shouting.  It made him seem like one of the sìofra her grandmother used to tell her about, an enchanted double of James Potter that had come to replace the real one.  But as she watched she spotted the quill he was rolling between his fingers, and the way his lips moved as he read—signs that this was the original in front of her, and not a changeling.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, watching him, before he looked up and saw her.  He took in her boots, her coat, her wand, but he didn’t ask.  He didn’t seem surprised to see her at all.

“Alright, Evans?”

She was only on the other side of the room, but she felt miles away from that warm circle of light.

“What are you doing up?” she managed to ask, immediately feeling stupid for saying it.  She was the one whose behavior was strange and deserving of interrogation—the last thing she wanted to do was invite him to ask her the same question.

He hesitated for a moment, and then a familiar smile spread across his face.  “Do you want to know a secret?”

It was first year, and the secret was that it wasn’t real flesh-eating slugs in Peter’s pocket, but she’d tell him they were, right?  It was third year, and the secret was that all of the Slytherin’s left shoes had been stolen and needed her artistic eye to arrange them in rows on the ramparts.  It was Transfiguration, and the secret was that McGonagall’s desk drawers suddenly produced infinite cans of Kit-E-Kat, with glasses drawn on the cat in the logo.  It was fifth year, and the secret was to wear a raincoat to lunch.  That conspiratorial smile, the words that accompanied it—they brought back memories she hadn’t realized she’d missed.  Memories powerful enough to pull her over to his table and into the chair he kicked out for her, leaning into the light to see what he had been looking at.

It took her a minute to understand what she was seeing.  Spider-thin webs of ink stretched across the page, forming a blueprint—no, a map—of the castle.  She could see the clearly labeled rooms, the Great Hall, the transfiguration classroom, the library staircase, stretching all the way out onto the grounds and off the page.  That in itself would have been impressive, but the jaw-dropping part was the tiny dots moving across the page, dots labeled with names.  Most were packed into the dormitories at this time of night, but some were on the move, names trailing after them as they walked through the nighttime castle.  Disbelieving, she sought out the Gryffindor common room.  Sure enough, there were James Potter and Lily Evans, side by side near the boys staircase.

She noticed a self-conscious air about James as he sat next to her, a sort of contained excitement that could only mean one thing.  “Potter, did you make this?”

And there was that cocky grin—usually it was infuriating, but she was too genuinely impressed to begrudge him it this time.

“This is incredible…”  Transfixed, she watched Albus Dumbledore and Alastor Moody’s dots slowly circle his office.

“How did you manage this?  The charm work alone… How you would get the map to add new people…”

“Well, we all worked on it.  Only really finished it this year, to tell you the truth.  And Remus did the charms, of course, you know I’m rubbish at charms.”

Lily found herself grinning back at him, a thrill running through her.  Even after all this time, magic still was able to astonish her.  Learning more about magic over the years never seemed to cheapen the trick; being in on the secret only served to make it more fascinating—that it could be used to create something like this, something out of a children’s adventure story… It was making her heart beat faster just to hold it.

“This is how you knew where Remus and I were, that night.”

“Yeah.  Ever since… I just like to keep an eye on him, you know?  He’s still on patrol, but they should be finishing up soon.”  She followed his finger to the dot marked Remus Lupin, rounding the third floor in the company of Jane Davies.

She thought she could have watched Remus’ slow progress back to the tower forever, but James’ presence was distracting.  She gradually became aware that he was no longer looking at the page in front of them, but instead was staring at the side of her face, a strong enough sensation to cut through even her fascination with this “Marauder’s Map.”

She looked up at him, questioning, but he didn’t answer it.  Instead, his eyes dropped from her face and he reached out to gently touch the spikes on her shoulder with one finger.  “Where’d you get the coat, then?”

“Remus,” she said.  Her voice had dropped to a murmur for no real reason.  “After he got that growth spurt in fifth…”

“Right,” he said.  His voice was no louder than hers.  “I must remember him wearing it…”

The conversation was so pointless, but Lily couldn’t think of anything more interesting to say, preoccupied with watching his finger trace along one of the zippers on her sleeve.

The portrait door creaked open.  They both jumped, startled, although they really shouldn’t have been.  Hadn’t they spent the past twenty minutes watching Remus’ progress back to Gryffindor Tower on the map in front of them?  Remus, stepping down into the common room, saw them sitting at one of the tables and a slow, warm smile began to spread across his face.  She rarely saw him so happy anymore.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” said Remus as he crossed the room, but his face told a different story.  If a friend sitting in the common room at one in the morning waiting for him made Remus smile like that, then there was no way James would ever fail to do so.

“Course I did,” said James, tossing the map down and leaning back in his chair.  He shifted away from Lily as he did so, and she wrestled with the way her arm wanted to move back under his hand.  “Can’t have our little Moon-moon out in the night, all alone!”

“You really are a mum,” said Lily.  “To think all these years we thought that role fell to Remus.”

Remus was helping James shove books back into his bag, but he looked up and smiled at Lily when she spoke.  She was relieved to see it—despite his words the other day, she’d been worried that their friendship was still on shaky ground.  “I have been reliably informed, by those who ought to know what they’re talking about, that I am the grandfather.”

The bag was packed, but James had made no move to leave as of yet.  Remus, glancing between them, said, “Well, I’m off to change.  Thanks for waiting, James.”  As he walked up the boys staircase he called over his shoulder, “My jacket looks good on you, Lily.”

And then they were alone again.  Lily could feel the itching anxiety start to press back in.  It was only its return that alerted her to it having ever been gone—she wished she’d noticed in time to enjoy its absence, but now that James was standing to leave it was too late.

Searching for something to say, her eyes fell on the map, still open on the table.  She picked it up—it was large enough to trail out of her hand and leave one end still sitting on the table—and offered it back to him.  “Don’t forget this.”

“You keep it.”

“What?”

He was studying her face, not even glancing at the map.  “I thought… maybe you could use it right now.”

Unsure of what he could possibly mean, she didn’t move, her arm still extended toward him, offering him his own map.

“Just hang on to it for me, for a bit.  I’ll let you know if I need it back.”

She should have refused, should have told him she couldn’t possibly borrow something this special to him and his friends, but her hand had already moved to pull the map closer to her.  He directed a fond smile at her hands where they clutched the map to her chest.  Fondness for the map, or for her, she didn't know.

“Here,” he said, stepping closer.  “Let me show you how to work it…”

“Really?  Mischief managed?”

“Oh, you’ll like the code to open it even better: I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

“I should have known… You know, for a secret passcode, that’s not exactly secure.  Anyone who knows you would guess some iteration of that in five minutes…”

“That was kind of the point…”  He gave a half-hearted shrug, grinning at her in a way that said, I know this is ridiculous, but…  “We thought that then anyone with the right attitude would be able to crack it.  A prankster’s legacy.”

“And I’ve got the right attitude, do I?”

His eyes were bright and warm.  “Well, you know.  I think you’ve got potential.”

Chapter Text

Mary was in bed with cramps, an obscene amount of chocolate, and a private showing of Carrie on Lily’s jerry-rigged projection system.  Dorcas was in the library, researching for a nastily difficult paper in Ancient Runes.  Marlene was sitting with the Quidditch team, showing off Lily’s January edition of Rolling Stone.  Meanwhile, Lily turned back to the actual news.

She’d overslept again that morning, meaning she hadn’t had time to do more than scan the headlines over breakfast and was hoping to make it up at lunch.  She pretended not to see James Potter leaning around Marlene, craning his neck to read over her shoulder.  She pretended not to hear him, as he read the report on the Sex Pistols out loud (very loud) to Remus.  Marlene and Mary had been particularly annoying about James, lately, and she didn’t want to give whatever joke they were playing any more fuel.

Thankfully, Alice settled in next to her and asked what she was reading, forcing her to actually focus on it.  “Just more of the Balcombe trials… they’ve walked out of the court, apparently…”*

“Do they let muggles do that, then?” asked Frank, who was never far behind Alice.  “Just walk out of court?”

“I mean, obviously they’re not supposed to… but all they did was leave the room.  They just went back to the jail.  It’s not as if they walked out onto the streets…”

“We went to the Wizengamot with mum, once.  Remember, love?”

Alice shuddered.  “As if I could forget!  My father was horrified when I told him how wizard court works—Lily, they chained them to the chair!  Big, iron chains!  It was positively medieval…”

Lily couldn’t help a shiver.  She supposed handcuffs were much the same thing, in the end, but something felt different about the picture of a man chained to a chair to face the court.  A few seats away, out of the corner of her eye, James trailed off, frowning.  Seeming to make a decision, he slid down the bench toward her.  “Alright, Evans?”

“Oh, just telling Alice some of the muggle news…” she expected him to turn back to his own conversation after this vague answer, but instead he stayed, attentive.  She wasn’t sure what to do with that attention, so she resumed filling Alice in on the article, in more detail than she otherwise would have.  If she lifted the newspaper higher than necessary, to block James Potter’s face from her peripheral vision, that was her own business.

“Apparently one of them—Joe O’Connell—he made a speech.  Talking about the Guildford and Woolwich bombings from a couple years back.  He claims that the people arrested for those are innocent, and that he and the other blokes on trial today are guilty of them.  Wish they’d print the bloody speech, and not just the journalist’s opinion of it!  But it must have been something… Apparently, the judge told him to stop three times, and he had to recite it very quickly to ensure that the jury actually got it all…”**

“What’s a jury?”

Lily started.  She’d managed to ignore James’ eyes on her so completely she’d almost forgotten he was there, listening to her recital.  It took a moment for his words to sink in, but when they did she dropped the newspaper and stared at him.

“What’s a jury?”

Frank came to James’ rescue before she could say anything too condescending.  “The Wizengamot doesn’t use a jury.  It’s a panel of judges, some elected and some appointed, who make the rulings in any criminal case.”

Lily gaped at him.  Disbelieving, she turned to Alice for confirmation.  “I know,” said Alice darkly.  “And you know what’s worse?  Some of those seats are hereditary.  Like the House of Lords.”

“I may be sick,” said Lily, pushing away her plate.

“Sorry, I see that you’re having a crisis, here, I do see that.  But I still don’t know what a jury is?”

“It’s part of a muggle court,” explained Alice.  “For every trial they appoint twelve random citizens who vote on if the defendant is guilty or not.  It’s the judge’s role to ensure that the law is followed correctly during the trial and to decide the scale of the punishment that a guilty person would face, but they don’t decide who’s actually guilty or innocent.  It’s supposed to be peers of the person on trial who are screened by the lawyers to make sure they can be unbiased…”

“It’s supposed to let people be judged equally and fairly, rather than having the same thirty rich people decide the fate of everyone in the country!”

“Maybe I’m not getting it,” said James slowly, “but it seems like there’s an awful lot of problems with that system, too.  What if you just… get a bad lot?”

For all that she wanted to argue with James Potter, Lily couldn’t honestly disagree.  “It is a problem,” she admitted.  “That’s one of the things this guy—”

“Joe O’Connell?”

“—Yeah, the man on trial.  That’s one of the arguments he was making.  That he and his compatriots can’t be judged fairly by an English court, because it’s not really a jury of their peers.”  She stopped, then wondered if she would need to explain further.  The thought of trying to explain Irish/English history and relations made her head spin.

“Oh, because England is occupying Ireland?”  James grinned at her stunned face.  “That relationship isn’t any prettier on the wizard side…”

He nodded at the paper.  “So he’s saying that it’s not a fair trial because of English imperialism?  It’s a good argument, I’ll give him that.  It won’t work, of course, but that doesn’t make him wrong…”

Lily was still staring at him, but a vague sense of embarrassment was beginning to creep in around her astonishment.  Of course James, out of any of them, would know what imperialism was.  She wondered how it was possible that they’d never talked about anything like this before—surely, surely she couldn’t have been so blind as to assume that being a wizard would mean…

“OI!  POTTER!”  James, hers, and just about everyone’s head swiveled to where Peter was bellowing from the entrance.  “MOONY SAYS, ‘IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR SKINNY ARSE IN GEAR BY THE TIME HE COUNTS TO THREE, YOU’LL REGRET IT!’”

“Merlin’s saggy bollocks—I’m late!”

Lily, valiantly repressing her laugh, replied, “So I gathered.”

He met her eyes and paused in the middle of gathering his things, frozen for a moment, like she’d caught him in her gaze and it was up to her to let him go.  She felt an inexplicable surge of fondness for him, standing there half in and half off the bench, the mess of parchment in his hands and his idiot friends still yelling.  It was possible that she’d missed this, a little bit.  Missed him.

“Go on, then, Potter,” she said, handing him his last book with a softer smile than she usually gave him.  “I’ll see you later.”

~

Lily was walking to the library after Transfiguration, having parted ways with Sirius at the staircase so that he could go down and pursue his sacred ritual of staring at the back of Remus’ head during meals.  Of course, she made no comment about that—it wasn’t as if she had any better suggestions for him.  But it meant that she was alone in the hallway, something she’d learned to avoid over the past months.  Apparently, the five minute walk to the library was all the opportunity he needed.

She felt a pricking at the back of her neck, a cold feeling that she knew all too well washing over her.  She whirled around, wand out.  There he was, only a few steps behind, his hands up in response to her drawn wand.  He was so bloody silent—how had he gotten so close?  In the past few busy, distracted weeks, she’d started to forget to worry about him, stopped looking over her shoulder for him.  She’d been a fool.

“Lily,” he said, the same tragic, pleading eyes she’d seen a hundred times before, watching her through classes and meals, following her in the corridors.  It had backfired for him, though.  Constant exposure had hardened her to them, allowing her to callously dismiss them in a way she would only have dreamed of doing at the beginning of the year.

“What is it, Snape?  What can we possibly have left to say to each other?”

“You need to be careful.  The people you’re associating with are dangerous—”

Rage flooded Lily and she snapped the point of her wand up to point dead between his eyes.  “We’ve already had this conversation!  Remus is my friend!  And for that matter, he’s a better friend to me than you’ve been by far…”

Snape cut her off—more forceful than he’d been in months.  “Not the werewolf—the other one.  Black.”

He’d actually managed to surprise her, and genuine confusion threw a wrench into her plans to get out of there as quickly as possible.  “Sirius?” she said hesitantly, then, recovering, “I would think I’ve less to fear from Sirius than from your friends, for example.”

“No.  No, you don’t.”  He looked serious, his black eyes boring into hers.  It made her even angrier.

“Snape, your friends are terrorists—”

“They’ve never tried to kill anybody though, have they?”

Once again, she was blindsided by this conversation; it didn’t seem to be following any sort of script that she could have predicted.  “What?  What are you talking about?”

Snape’s eyes glittered.  “I knew he wouldn’t have told you.  They’re all keeping this from you, you know.  You’re the only one who doesn’t know the truth…”

“Know what—the truth about what?”

“Why Potter and the werewolf and the rest won’t speak to Black anymore.  The truth about that night.  That he tried to kill me.”

The words echoed in her ears, and she put one hand back against the wall behind her, bracing herself, her fingers snagging against the rough stone.  It didn’t feel real—it couldn’t be real.  Without thinking, she let her wand hand lower slightly and Snape stepped smoothly forward into that gap.

“I was arguing with Black that night about… it’s not important—you know we’ve never gotten along.  I don’t know what possessed him—perhaps he was fighting with his boyfriend—but he told me about where they go… acted as if I would be able to find out some big secret of Potter and Lupin’s if I just went to the whomping willow that night after dark… pushed the right spot to freeze the tree… a passage would open and I could go inside.”  He looked at her intently, as if to ensure that his words were having the proper effect.

“You can imagine what happened next.  The monster—the wolf—it was down there.  It could have killed me.  It nearly killed me—just like Black wanted…”

Lily was looking at him, but she wasn’t really seeing him.  Instead, she was thinking of James’ grim face, saying, “the rest is worse.”  Of Sirius, wreathed in smoke, saying, “some things shouldn’t be forgiven.”  The shocking cruelty of Remus’ dismissals.

But what lingered in her mind longest was the way Snape’s eyes had glittered as he spoke.  She focused on him again, searching his face—it had been so familiar once.

“It’s okay, Lily,” he continued, his hands out in front of him, almost—but not quite—touching her.  “I understand that you didn’t know about it… I know that no matter how angry you were, you wouldn’t have let him do something like that to me.  You would have protected me.”

His face had been more than familiar—it had been beloved.  There had been a time when she would have done anything for him, to protect him.  That much, at least, was true.  Even now, she found herself wondering if that time had truly passed.

“Just like I would have protected you!  Lily… there’s something I have to tell you.  I have to warn you.  Whatever you do, you can’t go to the—”

That was what was bothering her—the look in his eyes.  It was triumph.

He was hardly even trying to hide it.  It was as if the realization had given her a new lens to look at him through—when she refocused on his face, the Sev in her memories was gone, and she could see him clearly.  “You’re lying.”

It wasn’t what she’d intended to say, but once it was out there she could feel the truth of it.

He stopped short.  “You don’t believe me?”  The hurt in his voice was genuine, but the rest of it…  “Fine—ask him then—ask any of them!  They’ll all say the same thing—”

But Lily’s mind was very cold and clear.  “Oh, I have no doubt that’s what Sirius believes.  The rest of them, even.  But you can’t fool me—I know you.”  She pushed off of the wall and stepped forward, watching him fall back in confusion.

“You’re a lot of things, but you’re far from stupid.  You wouldn’t have gone down a tunnel to meet a fully transformed werewolf on just Sirius Black’s word.  Not unless there was something you were hoping to gain.”

She took another step, and another, her wand held at her side still—she didn’t need it.  “You don’t need to tell me the goal—I can imagine that well enough.  To let Remus out, to endanger the rest of the school, all for leverage to insist he be expelled.  Or worse.”  The thought chilled her.  “To be put down.  You would have loved that, wouldn’t you?  Dragging Sirius into it was just a bonus.”

She could see on his face that she was right.  He couldn’t hide these things from her—she was still the person who knew him the best.  She didn’t know how she’d let him fool her for so long.  “Just tell me this—what did you do to Sirius, to convince him to tell you?”

Snape recoiled from her in horror.  “You’d still take his side—even knowing what he did?  They’ve all turned you against me… I should have known… People like you can’t be trusted…”  But she didn’t need to hear any more.  Instead, she turned, walking determinedly away from him down the corridor, leaving him still ranting at her back.  There was someone else she needed to speak to.

~

Lily finally found Remus deep in the library, in one of the hidden rooms that grew in the restricted section, and which remained even when the potent book was removed.  Once she found him, though, she realized she didn’t know what to say.

An inexplicable skylight let in a shaft of sunlight like a column in the center of the room, with sparkling motes of dust floating around in it.  Remus’ head was bent over a stack of books, leaving her looking at his messy, longish brown hair.  It probably hadn’t been trimmed since she did it back in September—she should really do it again.  He hated having long hair, always said he didn’t want to look like a hippie and ruin his street cred.

She didn’t know why she was dwelling on fixing his hair right now, when she should have been planning how to possibly tell him what she knew, but she couldn’t think of anything to say.  Instead she stood in the doorway, mute, paralyzed, unwilling or unable to break the peaceful silence. 

When he looked up and saw her, however, it turned out that she didn’t need to say anything.  From her white face, to her tightly clasped hands, to how hard she must have searched to find him here—he knew.

“Sit down,” he said.  His voice was as mild as ever, but there was a hint of guilt on his face.

She sat.  “You didn’t tell me,” she said.

“No.”

“Not even when…”

“No.”

“How did you keep it a secret?”

He frowned, confused.  “What would have been the point?  Maybe you would have hated Sirius, then, but… look at you!  Why would I do that to you, just to get what I want?”

“Remus—”

“But now you know,” he continued, voice stronger.  “You know what Sirius is.”  At the question in her eyes, he made himself more clear.  “Sirius Black, the murderer.”

“No, he’s not!” Lily burst out.

Anger, which had been so deeply buried in Remus’ voice up till now, crept to the surface.  “I didn’t expect this of you, Lily—I thought you might be sad, or hurt, but I didn’t think you’d deny that Sirius tried to murder your friend.”

Now Lily was angry as well.  Remus might have said he kept this from her to protect her, but she wasn’t sure if she believed him.  He was smart enough to have figured out that Sirius wasn’t the only person at fault that night—she couldn’t understand why he wanted to pretend otherwise.  “Don’t give me that—you and I both know that’s bollocks.  As if Snape was an innocent, lured unwitting by Sirius’ words into a deadly trap—if there was a trap, it was of his own making.”

His hands were slowly tightening into fists, but Lily pressed on, some realization taking shape.  “But that’s not what bothers you, is it?  It’s what’s troubling James, that’s for sure.  Hell, it might even be what’s troubling Peter—the idea that their friend could be a cold-blooded murderer.  But it’s just an excuse to you… this is about something else.”

Remus’ quill snapped in his hand, startling both of them.  Lily stared at it, then back at Remus’ rigid face.  “I just don’t get why you feel like you need an excuse—”

“It’s selfish,” said Remus.  His voice creaked as though he hadn’t used it in years.  “It’s selfish to make it just about me.”

“Oh.”  Lily could feel her heart sink at his words.  She should have known.  “Oh, Remus, no.  No, it’s not—”

“Sirius used me!” he burst out.  It was shocking, to hear Remus raise his voice at all, but it seemed as though he couldn’t stop himself any longer, his icy façade shattering under the weight of the words built up under it.  “I was nothing more than a tool to get what he wanted—that’s all I’ve ever been to him!  He looks at me, and he doesn’t even see a person.”

He glared at Lily, eyes wet.  “Go on, tell me that it isn’t true.  You can’t, can you?  Just try and tell me different…”

She looked at him silently, while he scrubbed furiously across his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands into them so hard Lily had to stop herself from pulling his hands away.  For all of his gentle movements and measured speech, Remus was so rarely gentle with himself.  It sounded as if he was begging her to try, desperately asking her to convince him that his worst fears about Sirius weren’t true.  She wanted to—equally desperately—but she wasn’t sure how.

Lily tilted her head back and squinted up at the sunbeam before she spoke, as if the dust motes would give her some sort of answer to Remus’ impossible question.  “You know I was friends with Snape for a long time, right?”  Remus was silent, but then the question had been rhetorical after all.

“I don’t know if I ever told you this part, but I knew him long before Hogwarts.  He was actually the person who told me that I was a witch…”  She was trying to speak about it objectively, to just let the memories of Sev flow past her without feeling them, but it was harder than she’d thought.  She gripped one wrist, pressing her thumb down on her own pulse, hard.

“I don’t like to admit it now—it sounds so stupid now—but I really cared about him.  He was more than my best friend—he was the first person who I thought really knew me.  He knew the part of me that was a witch, and the part of me that was a muggle, and I thought he cared about them both—cared about me.  But I was wrong.”

Remus was watching her now through reddened eyes—silently, but at least he was listening.  “He didn’t care about me—he just wanted something from me.  Or he wanted me to be something… something he could have.  Just like a thing, an object.  If I didn’t fit the script, if I had my own mind, and my own thoughts, and I didn’t agree with how he wanted me to behave…”  Her voice was getting softer, but she forced herself to finish, “…he’d get so angry.”

She looked back at Remus, begging him to understand what she meant.  He did—he always did.  “So you think that’s Sirius, then?”  He was still angry, but at least there was something in his voice.  At least that meant he was still there to speak to.

She spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully.  She knew this wouldn’t be as easy as a simple yes or no… She knew her answer.  She just had to help Remus see it.  “Even now, that’s still all I am to Snape.  He thinks… he thinks if he can just input the right signals, or find the right combination of words, or create the right circumstances, that I’ll spit out the result that he wants.”

He wouldn’t look her in the eyes, but she could feel him thinking.  The silence stretched out a long time, until she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Do you know why he did it?”

Remus frowned at her.  “Snape wouldn’t say,” she explained—a totally inadequate justification for such an invasive question, but Remus surprised her again.

“Regulus—he said something about Regulus—I don’t know the details… I wasn’t really listening.”  With a jerky, abrupt movement, he reached out and shoved his stack of books over with a bang, then slumped back in his chair.  With his too-long bangs hanging in his eyes, and his sullen scowl, he looked for once like a teenage boy, and not a young but grave professor.  It had been too long since she’d seen him this expressive.  “An excuse—he doesn’t even talk to his brother!”

Of course it was about his brother.  There seemed no way for Lily to explain to Remus, only child that he was, how there were some bonds that you could never break, no matter how they twisted and warped.  No matter how badly you wanted to.  But when she looked at him more closely, at the tortured exhaustion in his eyes, she thought that maybe he understood after all.

Lily leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.  After a moment, she felt Remus’ head tilt toward her, until his cheek was resting on her hair.  She let out a quiet sigh, “I guess you have to decide what you’re going to do.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”  He still sounded a little sulky, and it made her smile.

“You already know what I think… But I’m not you.  You have to decide if there’s anything left there that you want to salvage.”

“I can’t just let him use me, Lily.  If I do now… I’ll never be able to stop it.”

“Just think about it?  Yeah?”

She could feel him exhale heavily, cheek still pressed against the crown of her head.  It wasn’t a yes, but at least it was something.

~

That night Lily left her four-poster and snuck to the window.  It was a new moon, and the grounds were very dark, and the stars very bright.  She put on her coat and got her wand as usual, but she stopped at her boots, thinking.  Coat still on, she crawled back into bed, pulling the curtains closed behind her.  She lit her wand silently, and opened up the Marauder’s Map.

In the warm glow of her wandlight, the ink walls and passages of the castle unfurled before her, filling the page, as intricate as lace.  There was the library, with Miranda Pince still pacing its perimeter—she should have known that librarians didn’t sleep.  There was the prefect patrol, Ennis Winston and Gilda Hapglen, returning to the Hufflepuff dorms.  Even the ghosts showed up—and how that worked she couldn’t possibly guess.

Severus Snape was still up in the Slytherin common room, with Bernard Travers and a Maximus Mulciber.  The room was deserted otherwise.  It took her a minute, but she found Regulus Black as well, apparently asleep in the fourth year dorms.  His brother was in the seventh year Gryffindor boys dorms, though she doubted he was asleep, positioned as he was by the window.  He was probably smoking… She should really get him to quit…  She settled in to watch him until he went to bed at last, her eyes moving between him and the room below his, where Peter Pettigrew and James Potter were in their beds.  Her fingers brushed along his name on their way to where Remus Lupin was also at the window, similarly sleepless… Her eyes were getting heavy, but she wanted to do another scan of the corridors, just to be sure…

~

“I’m in.”

“Are you sure, Severus?  I thought you’d said that the scrutiny on you was too intense right now to risk participating…”

“The circumstances have changed.  I think it’s time I took an active role in this mission.  We only have a few weeks to make our plans, after all.  We’d better get moving—can’t risk disappointing dear Bellatrix, after all…”

Chapter Text

“Lily, it’s appalling—he can’t be allowed to say shite like that in front of students!”

“And that smug little smile, like he just knew it was flying over the heads of half the class—ooh Dorcas, let me go back and curse him, or hit him, or something—”

Lily, swept along between Dorcas and Marlene to the Great Hall, considered reminding them that she’d told them about Rancourt months ago.  But it felt too good right now, held in the warm embrace of her friends’ mutual indignation, for her to really care.

They sat down at the table heavily, Lily still trapped between them.  Dorcas began angrily piling food onto Lily’s plate as if she could erase the impact of Rancourt’s words by making sure Lily ate a solid meal.  It almost worked, or at least, his words didn’t have the same sticky grip on her mind that they usually did.

The boys filed in, dropping into seats around them, Sirius trailing a meter or two behind and sitting a few seats further away.  Marlene and Dorcas ignored them, Marlene continuing to describe in bloodthirsty detail the various curses that a just world would allow her to visit upon Rancourt, if he was not in charge of their grades, Dorcas punctuating Marlene’s statements with forceful nods of her head, pouring Lily her pumpkin juice so aggressively it splashed onto the tabletop.

“It really seems like he’s out to get you, Lily—what the hell is that about?”

Lily sighed, opting to spin her wand around on the table rather than starting on the hearty meal Dorcas had served her.  As nice as it felt to have her friends agree that Rancourt was targeting her specifically, it also served to remind her that she didn’t have any solutions, and that her problems with DADA went deeper than the professor.

“It doesn’t help that I apparently can’t cast non-verbal spells… Maybe if I wasn’t so rubbish at his class he’d have to back off a little.”

“What are you talking about?” said James from across the table, apparently distracted at last from the pressing task of stacking food onto a glum Peter’s plate.  She wanted to giggle at how similar a scene it was to the one she and Dorcas had made a few minutes before, but Dorcas’s words quickly recalled Lily to the depressing nature of their conversation.

“We’re talking about how Rancourt’s a rabid blood-purist, if you’ve somehow failed to notice,” snapped Dorcas.

“No, I know that,” said James, as if the fact that he’d been aware of it at all wasn’t causing Lily a minor upheaval.  “Had Ma write last semester and complain, but apparently they don’t want to risk offending Beauxbatons… No, I meant, what do you mean saying you’re not good at non-verbal spells?”  He directed this question at Lily, his brows drawn together in a concerned wrinkle.

She felt herself flushing.  His question stung, like salt on the skinned knee of her constant failures in Defense, and she snapped back instinctively.  “Are you taking the mickey?  You see me in class just like I see you!”

He didn’t rise to her angry tone, instead, his frown only deepened, his voice confused rather than mocking.  “But… I’ve seen you cast non-verbal spells dozens of times…”

“What are you talking about?”  Now Lily was the one confused, staring at him even while the conversation around them moved on.

“Just yesterday, I’m sure I saw you sorting library books without using a spell…”  She still looked at him blankly.  “I mean—” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, then leaned forward and tipped her pumpkin juice over.  Before it had even hit the table, her wand was in her hand and had reversed the flow of the liquid, pouring it back into the cup.  The bottom of the goblet settled back onto the table with a faint clink, wobbling for a moment before stilling.  Lily stared at it, at the liquid swirling around inside it, unassuming.

James pointed at it as though it was winning his argument for him, not even bothering to comment.

“But that’s not anything,” insisted Lily.  “That’s not even a spell!”

“Yeah, exactly,” said James.  If anything, Lily felt even more confused.  Stopping a goblet of pumpkin juice from spilling was miles away from stupefying your opponent without uttering a word—surely James must see that?  Again, she felt the suspicion that he must be mocking her, but instead he was looking at her intently, that worried wrinkle back between his brows.

“You actually think you can’t do it!” he said suddenly.  “I assumed it was just that that creep was making you uncomfortable, or something like that… but you really think he’s right!”

“No!”  Lily flared up at that accusation, but found she didn’t have much of an argument to give in response.  “No… I know he’s wrong with all that ‘natural aptitude’ rubbish… I know muggleborns aren’t inherently less powerful than purebloods, obviously.  But…”

She glanced around, but the rest of her friends were busy with their own conversations.  That helped—made this feel less like begging for compliments, made her fears easier to give voice to at the lunch table.  Regardless, she dropped her eyes from James’ searching gaze down to the goblet of pumpkin juice again.  Its surface was still quivering.  “Maybe he’s right about me.  Maybe I’m just not very powerful… Or else… or else I’d be able to do it, right?”

James was quiet long enough she looked back up from her goblet and met his eyes.  When he did speak, his voice was tight.  “Lily… Okay, if you think the spill wasn’t enough, then what about your record player?  Don’t tell me you used spells for that—I know you didn’t.”

To her surprise, Lily realized the tightness in his voice came from anger—at who, she couldn’t be sure.  “That’s just charms,” she protested.  “That’s nothing—I’m good at charms.”

“Besides—”  She found her voice getting stronger as she marshaled her arguments.  “That’s not even something that had a spell in the first place—it’s not the same thing as casting a spell without speaking it!”

“But it is,” James insisted.

“What?”

“It is the same thing.  A non-verbal version of a spell isn’t any different than doing magic without using a spell at all… hang on…”  He glanced around and then swore.  “I wish Remus was here—he’s so much better at explaining this sort of thing.”

“Explaining what?”

“Magical theory.”  In a manner that reminded her vividly of Sirius’ transfiguration lessons, he slipped into teaching mode without missing a beat.  “Okay, so as far as we understand it, a verbal incantation and wand movement is secondary to the spell itself—more than that, it is invented secondary, sort of formed around the spell as it gets built.”

Her face must have looked blank, so he tried a different tack.  “When you invent a spell—and I know you have, Evans, lots of them—what do you come up with first?  The idea, the concept of the spell and what you want it to do, or the incantation.”

“Obviously what I want it to do… but I don’t see why—”

“Give me a minute, Evans.  Okay, so the idea of the spell is already in existence.  And what you’re looking for is the best structure to channel that spell into the world, that’s what an incantation and wand movement do, right?”

She nodded, slowly.  That was how she and Snape had always made their spells—she liked the image he was building for her, the idea of wrapping the spell in an incantation like a little package, to be sent out into the world.  “Like mail…”

“What?  Yeah, actually.  Exactly like mail.  You have the thing you want to send, but it’s easier and usually safer if you package it.  Contain it, sort of.”

She felt a smile cross her face at this small victory, fleeting but still real.  James was continuing to speak, about how some spells were small enough not to need an incantation, like her pumpkin juice spill, and how some functioned better without one, like her record player.  He was a dynamic speaker, his hands moving constantly, his expressive eyebrows traveling all over his face.  When he got excited like this, his face was hard to look away from—there was a joy on it, as he talked about magic, that drew her like a magnet.

“But what about spell spells—what about non-verbal duels, and things like that.  They’re casting spells that do have incantations, and the result is exactly the same as when they use the incantations!”

“It’s not exactly the same… Well, we’ll get into that later.  But even spells with an incantation and wandwork, that’s not all that they are.  Think about it—someone standing, holding a wand, saying stupefy, won’t stun anybody.  You probably didn’t, the first time you tried it.  I know I didn’t!  They have to have the spell behind it…”

Something was coming together in Lily’s mind, something from months ago.  “Sirius,” she said, suddenly.

“What’s that?”

“Just… something Sirius said, oh, ages ago.  About the shape of a spell.  He said that if I’d gotten it right once, it would be easier to do the next time because I would remember the shape of it, how it felt to cast it.”

“Yeah!  Yeah, that’s it exactly.”

For the first time, Lily felt as if a glimmer of progress had been made in DADA.  It was a nice enough feeling that she let the hopeful smile peek back out.  James, seeing it, responded with a relieved smile.

Without looking away from her face, he passed Peter the gravy, then gave him a bracing clap on the shoulder.  Peter did not appear braced by it.

“What happened?”  Lily mouthed, cocking her head in Peter’s direction.

“Dumped,” James mouthed back.

Lily frowned.  “By who?”  She couldn’t recall Peter dating anyone in particular.  For some reason this made James crack up, struggling to keep his laughter disguised as coughs so as not to disrupt the funerary energy Peter was emitting.

“I don’t know!” He was almost impossible to understand like this, but they managed somehow.  “I don’t remember her name!”  Lily, unconstrained by Peter’s recent bereavement, burst out laughing.

Once James had taken a moment to tend to Peter’s wounded feelings, he turned back to Lily, an unusually hesitant look on his face.  “Look… Evans?  If you wanted… maybe, we could practice together?  Like, not that I think I’d necessarily be all that much help, or anything—I’m not a teacher—and I know you’d be fine on your own, but… it can be easier, sometimes, to study with someone else?”

Lily’s kneejerk response—that no, she was fine, she didn’t need his help, that he should stop assuming that he was a better wizard than everyone else—died on her lips, disarmed by the anxious, almost hopeful look he was giving her.  His hair was all over the place, as usual, and it made her want to push it out of his face and get a better look at him—maybe it would help her to figure this out, this thing in his eyes that she couldn’t quite see.  “Okay,” she found herself saying instead.  “Okay, let’s try that.”

~

All through her Monday morning classes, Lily would catch her thoughts drifting to James—what he was doing right now, whether he would be at dinner… Wondering if he would keep his promise, and help her with her non-verbal spells.  He’d been so earnest when he’d offered to help her, with that stupid little crinkle on his forehead, and his perpetually messy hair falling into his eyes.  She remembered wanting to push it back, out of his face.  For a moment, she imagined what it might have been like to do it… it looked very soft, but she couldn’t be sure…

“Why, Ms. Evans, we don’t seem up to our usual standards this morning—Mr. Snape is almost halfway through adding his gizzards!  What has you wool-gathering over here?”  Lily flushed so intensely it prompted Slughorn to make concerned inquiries about her health.  She brushed him off, stirring her cauldron furiously.

It was ridiculous—she’d seen him mere hours ago, at lunch… there was no reason to feel like she was waiting to see him again.  To wonder whether he would be at dinner.  Lily shook herself.  Whatever this was, she would really have to get it under better control, or risk losing ground in her best class to Snape—something she couldn’t stomach after the scene last week.

She’d been so hopeful, the next morning at breakfast, wondering if this would be the day that Remus gave some ground.  But there was nothing.  Not so much as the flicker of an eyelash to indicate that anything she had said had made any impact.

And potions was worse than ever, now.  While Snape’s eyes on the back of her neck had always made her skin crawl, there was a fissure of fear in the feeling now.  She’d always trusted that she was too important to Snape, or at least to whatever narrative of them he’d created for himself, for him to do any concrete damage to her, but for the first time she was wondering if she’d made him angry enough to hurt her.  She looked down at the swirling surface of her draught of living death, and shivered.

~

James wasn’t at dinner.  She was disappointed first, and then disgusted with herself for being disappointed.  They’d gone a whole semester without speaking—why she would suddenly start acting as though she couldn’t spend more than a few hours outside of his company, she had no idea.

On their way out of the Great Hall they passed the boys at the entrance, and James gave a cheerful smile and a wave.  Inexplicably irritated with him, she did not return it, sailing on by with only a nod.

“So that’s why you’re in a mood,” said Marlene, an entirely uncalled for observation that prompted Lily to walk faster, in hopes of getting rid of her judgmental eyes.  Unfortunately, Marlene was significantly taller, so unless Lily was willing to break into a sprint in the corridor, the fast-walking competition was doomed to end in her inglorious defeat.

“Better get over yourself,” said Marlene, smug on two fronts now.  “Didn’t you say you had a date with him this evening?”

“It’s not a date!”  And Lily was blushing again—how she resented her tendency to go scarlet at any provocation.  She vowed to write a strongly worded letter home, sharing her opinion of the pale Irish skin her mother had bestowed on her.

“Ooh, who’s got a date?”  Sirius appeared, dropping an arm around her shoulders and grinning at Marlene.  For all the chaos he carried with him, which should have made him stand out in a crowded hallway, he had an inconvenient ability to pop up without her noticing how he got there.

“It’s not a date!” Lily protested.  “If you must know, it’s… it’s tutoring!”

Sirius and Marlene cracked up.  “Look at her blush—she’s even more embarrassed about that!”

Lily pried Sirius’ arm off her shoulders.  “Fuck off!”

“Ooooh,” they chorused.

“Such foul language, Ms. Evans!” said Sirius, in a grotesquely accurate impression of Slughorn.  “Tsk tsk—young ladies should have more decorum, or they risk not being invited to my end-of-term arse-kiss extravaganza!”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Black?” Lily scowled.

“Why, yes.  As a recently deprogrammed escapee from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Nepotism, I am uniquely situated to discuss…”

Lily, rolling her eyes, began walking back to the tower, tuning out Sirius’ stream of nonsense.  Her thoughts, once more, turned to James.  What would tutoring be like?  Because it was tutoring, that much was obvious, despite all of his polite descriptions of it as “studying together.”  Would he be impatient?  Frustrated by how slow she was?  Would he torture her, like Sirius did every Transfiguration class?  She desperately didn’t want to look stupid in front of James Potter—that much, at least, was a familiar sensation.  She focused on that competitive drive, pushing all thoughts of his hair and his eyes to the side.

~

As it turned out, James was a natural teacher: enthusiastic but not overwhelming, clear without being condescending, and with apparently zero interest in Sirius’ style of “teaching,” which typically involved throwing things at Lily and demanding that she “think fast!”  They’d started with charms, since those were her strongest point, and by now they were lying on their backs, racing quills around the top of the ceiling.  It was practice in a different way, lying next to him, trying to focus on beating him without letting herself be distracted by being so close.  They weren’t touching, but she could still feel the warmth of his arm next to hers, and the vibrations of his chest when he laughed.

His falcon-feather quill jostled hers off balance, and she swore loudly and creatively, forced to do a loop to stay on target.  Frowning, she pushed her quill faster to make up the difference, cutting a corner in a very unsportsmanlike way to nose in ahead of his across the finish line.  Lily made the quill do a rude little victory dance before letting it float back into her hand.

She could feel him grinning at her as he spoke, not at all sore about having lost all three of their races.  “I knew you’d get the hang of it—by next week I think you might be ready to move on to some hexes already.  Or maybe we should do jinxes next… I think those tend to be more similar to charms…”

She turned toward him to answer, blinking to find them almost nose to nose.  She sat up quickly, putting him back at a safe distance.  Safe from what, she wasn’t sure.  She just knew that her heart had started pounding like a spooked rabbit, and that even putting space back between them wasn’t enough to slow it down.

“You were a lot of help,” she admitted.  It felt a little too honest, so she quickly followed it with another question, a deflection.  “How do you even know all of this?”

James pushed himself up to a sitting position as well, his back propped up against the legs of one of the desks.  “My parents, mostly…”  He paused for a moment, and she could never have predicted where he went next.

“It’s a problem, I think, at Hogwarts.  That they don’t teach any magical theory early on.  It… disadvantages students who don’t come from magical families—even brilliant ones, like you.”  He looked at Lily, apparently completely sincere in his complement.  “How are they supposed to know the difference between charms and curses if they aren’t taught?  I know how much you research and read outside of class, but they can’t expect students to make up that deficit all on their own…”

When she didn’t respond, he dropped his gaze again.  “Sorry.  It’s just something I’ve been thinking about maybe mentioning to Dumbledore.  Even if they wouldn’t change the curriculum, they could at least have tutoring, or a club, or something to help orient new students.”

Lily almost couldn’t believe she was saying it, but, “I think you’ve got a point.”

“What?  Really?”

“Yeah… it’s a good idea, Potter.”

It wasn’t a particularly passionate endorsement, but he looked as thrilled as if she’d taken out an ad in the Prophet over it.  She smiled at him again—he was able to draw these smiles out of her so easily; she couldn’t understand it.  “You know, I used to want to do something like that.”

“Do what?”

“Research.  Magical Theory, and all that rubbish.  I wanted… I wanted to study muggle science, and technology, and see if I could figure out ways to integrate them with spell work.”  It might have been a very tiny and pointless secret, but it still felt like an excavation, to bring to light these old dreams that she’d put away long ago.

James was quiet, his face serious, as though he could sense that this wasn’t something to tease about.  It was making things in her chest shift around in a way that was… not uncomfortable, exactly, but strange.  “I wanted to be a librarian, for a while,” she said, with a quiet, almost noiseless, laugh.  A smile flickered across his face in response, there and gone.

“But now…” Lily trailed off, unsure of how to explain the rest of it to James Potter.  How to tell him about the day she’d decided she was better off not letting herself entertain these dreams anymore, better off thinking about what would be more practical.  About what would be necessary for her to know in whatever lay ahead of them.

To her surprise, James spoke first.  “It’s getting bad out there, isn’t it.”  It wasn’t a question.

He sighed, shifting his weight against the leg of the table.  Sitting on the floor of the Transfiguration classroom like this, with his ratty shoelaces and his robes hanging untidily open to reveal the muggle shirt he wore underneath, he looked vulnerable in a way that she didn’t usually associate with James Potter.  He looked young.

“I know I’m not going to do quidditch, either.  Not really.  It’s just nice, sometimes.  To pretend.”

She didn’t understand him.  “But you could, though.  You could.”

She’d thought he’d looked young, before, but when he met her gaze she realized she’d been wrong.  There was something in his eyes that was very grown up.  “No, Evans,” he answered her, “I really can’t.”

Chapter Text

Lily dropped down into the chair next to James at the breakfast table, pulling his mug out of his hands and taking a sip from it.  It wasn’t hard to steal.  As always happened when she surprised him, he needed a moment to blink at her before he could formulate a response, like his eyes were adjusting to bright light.

She smiled at him over the rim of the cup.  “Good morning,” she said cheerily.

It was too early for him to be expected to react to this like a normal person, but he did his best.  If his best turned out to be nodding silently at her, who could blame him.

“This is good,” she said, taking another sip.  “What is it?”

“It’s chai?” he said, his voice going up idiotically, like he wasn’t sure what his own drink was.  “What are you doing up?  You’re not usually at breakfast this early…” he trailed off, cursing himself.  Now it sounded like he had her sleep schedule memorized.

As usual, she was oblivious to his crisis.  “I don’t know… I guess I’ve been sleeping better.”  She took another sip, and then handed the mug back to him.  Her mouth was on that! his brain reminded him, unhelpfully, as he went to take what would hopefully be a calming swallow.

“I didn’t know the house elves here had chai.”

“They don’t,” he said.  “My ma sent it.”  She was still looking at the mug in his hands.  “Um.  Do you want some more?”

“Really?  Is that okay?” she asked, but she was already reaching for it.

“Yeah, I’m done with it,” he lied, “you can go ahead and finish that.”

She gave him a contented smile, both hands wrapped around his cup.  “Your mum’s from Africa, right?”

“Yeah.  Zanzibar.”  James started to relax into the conversation a bit more.  If he didn’t get used to her just walking up and talking to him, she might get sick of trying, and then where would he be?  He watched closely as she stuck her nose into the cup and inhaled.  “You really like it, then?”

“I love it!  Why, don’t you?”

“Of course I do… We drink it every day at home.”  He leaned forward, conspiratorially.  “First year, my ma was so worried about me being on my own, that she sent the house elves a year’s worth of supplies for chai and instructions on how I liked it made.”

“Aww,” she said, beaming at him.  “That’s so cute!  Were you homesick?”

“Nah.  So I guess the chai worked, then.”

“Wait,” said Lily, putting the mug down with a clink.  “Does she still do that?  Is that where you got this?”  She was concealing a laugh very badly.  “Who would have thought—"

“No!” he said indignantly.  “No, when I was going into third year, I told her she didn’t need to do that anymore.  You know, that I was a big boy now, and all that rubbish.  But this year…”

He paused, moving some potatoes around on his plate while he thought.  “This year, we went back to Zanzibar for Christmas—we haven’t been since I was small.  And she was really happy to visit, but I could tell it made her sad, too, you know?  So I asked if she could bring back enough stuff for me to have chai at school again.”  Lily was looking at him more seriously now.  She had a steady gaze that seemed to pull things out of him, until he was sharing stories he hadn’t set out to tell her.

“Is that where you guys went,” she said, turning lightly back to her meal.  “I wondered why Sirius didn’t go with you.  I mean,” she corrected herself, “why your parents didn’t wonder where he was.”

“Ma and Dad would have bought him a ticket in a heartbeat, but I said he wanted us to go just by ourselves this first time, so that we could spend time with family and all that, and that we’d take him next time.”

“First time?”

“Oh.  Not the first time, first time, obviously I’ve been before, but the first time in almost… I don’t know exactly.  More than ten years though.”  She was frowning at him, curious.  “Because of the revolution, and all that.”*

Her frown deepened.  “I’m afraid I don’t actually know…”

“You wouldn’t, would you?  I mean, I hardly know anything about it—we would have been only four or five when it happened…”

He looked over her shoulder, frowning as he tried to marshal the little he’d pieced together over the years.  He and Sirius had done some digging a few years ago, but without being able to ask either of his parents they hadn’t gotten very far.  “So in Zanzibar, there wasn’t exclusively English rule—they were mostly letting the Arabs who were already living there run things like they had been for a long time, right?”

“And you’re Arab… right?  So your family…”

“Right.  But the thing was…”  Guilt flopped heavily in his stomach, like it always did when he thought about the little he knew about Zanzibar’s history.  “They were oppressing the Africans.  Had been for even longer than the English.”  Lily nodded.  He’d forgotten she was Irish—she’d understand this better than Sirius had.

James started to speak more confidently—he knew a little more about this part.  “I know Ma was against it—Dad’s got articles she wrote framed and all that.  Talking about how Arabs and Africans would never be free of the British until,” he slipped into quoting, “Arabs of Zanzibar stop seeking superiority over those who should be allies, and instead unite with Africans to fight for freedom for all.  This is our chance to take the first step toward righting wrongs that we have perpetuated and benefited from for the past thousand years.”

“Your mum wrote that?”

“Yeah,” he said proudly.  He couldn’t read Lily’s expression at all, but he was always proud of his mama’s writing.  He had some very early memories of standing on the landing of their back staircase, mouthing along as he read her articles, long before he knew what half the words meant.

“So is that what happened?  The revolution?”

“I don’t think so.  I don’t really know, but from what my cousins were saying, I think it was only the Africans who revolted.  Now Zanzibar is part of Tanzania—it’s all one country now, in East Africa…”  He lifted one shoulder awkwardly.  “Ma doesn’t like to talk about it.  I think it makes her sad.”

Lily’s face was soft.  “I get that,” she said.  “Ten years… it’s a long time to be away from home.”

“I think it’s more than that,” he confessed.  “She and some of my aunts had a big fight a few nights before we left…  Everyone was crying and yelling…  I think—I know—that some of our family were killed in the revolution, but I don’t know why that would be her fault?  I couldn’t hear much more before my dad sent me out.”

He looked up at her, wondering if she was wishing he’d stop talking—it was kind of a downer, to bring up family feuds and bloody revolutions over Monday morning breakfast.  He was relieved to still be met by that steady, clear-eyed look.  “Did she ever say what it was about?”

“No,” he said, looking back down at his plate.  “All she said…”

He’d woken up that night—he wasn’t sure when, but it was still dark outside—to find her sitting on his bed, stroking his hair.  “Mtoto.  My baby,” she was saying.  He’d tried to sit up, to ask her what was going on, but she wouldn’t explain.

“She said, ‘You always have to do what is right.  No matter the personal cost.’”  He frowned, remembering how intent she had been.  “Of course, I tried to tell her I already knew that, but…”

It was a relief to tell Lily—really, to tell anyone—all of this.  That night he’d sat awake for hours after his mother left, staring at the bag that held the two way mirror, talking himself in and out of calling Sirius.  She hadn’t said anything yet, and he risked a look back at her face, to gauge her reaction to all this.  He was surprised to see that her eyes were bright, almost as if there were tears in them.

“Anyway,” he said awkwardly, “the rest of the trip was fine.  I asked my cousins about it, but they said their mamas don’t talk about the revolution either.  Or about us—apparently they weren’t sure I even existed before we visited!  But they were cool…”

“Yeah?” said Lily, clearing her throat.  “What did you guys get up to?”

“Oh, tons of stuff… Mostly hung out at the beach, but they showed me around Stonetown too—which was great because my Swahili is apparently much worse than I thought it was.  Or so they told me.  Climbed around their shamba—sorry, that’s the family’s farm.  They’ve got a big spice farm.”

“Ohh,” she said, dreamily.  “What kind of spices?”

“Um.  I’m not sure, actually, what all they grow.  Mostly cloves, I think?  But vanilla and cinnamon too.  And pepper?”

There was an expression of longing on her face that he’d never seen before.  “It sounds beautiful.”

“It really is.  And when the wind’s in the right direction, you can smell the cloves all the way out on the beach.”

“Sorry to be so nosy, it’s just… I’ve never really traveled anywhere.”

“Never?”

“The Hogwarts Express from London to the highlands is about as far as I’ve ever gone from home.”

She looked so wistful that he found himself saying, without thinking about it, “You can come with us next time.”

She startled, and he cursed himself for pushing things too far.  But then she smiled at him again, saying, “If I take the spot, then what about Sirius?”

“Oh, Sirius too, of course,” he said, relieved.  “Merlin, but he was all ma could talk about!  ‘Oh, Sirius would have loved the beach,’ ‘Oh poor Sirius, we’ll have to take him here right away.’  We couldn’t eat a meal without her telling the whole table which dishes Sirius would have liked!”

Lily was grinning.  “Sounds like someone isn’t the favorite baby boy anymore—”

“Tell me about it!  We came back with so many presents for him, she’s having to send them in shifts—Monty Jr. can’t carry them all.”

“Your mum sounds fantastic.”

“She is,” he said, then, unable to help himself, he added, “she’d like you.”

Luckily, Lily seemed pleased, rather than demanding why he had the audacity to imagine she’d meet his mother any time soon.  She picked up the mug again—it must have been cold by then, but she drained the last sip anyway.  “What’s in this?”

He frowned.  “Um.  Tea.  And… other stuff.”

“You mean you don’t know?  I thought you drink this every day!  Does your mum always make it, or something…”

“No!  I mean, she does always make it, but I know how.  I just don’t know what the ingredients are called in English.  She’s the only person I cook with…”

She looked disappointed, which predictably made him say things he hadn’t intended to.  “I do have all the ingredients… In the kitchens?  If you want, I could show you?”

Lily’s smile was blinding.

~

Lily Evans was late again.  Narcissa felt the usual prickling feeling of irritation that Evans instilled in her.  She wondered if Evans did it on purpose, to needle her—like the muggle clothes, and the flippant attitude.

Narcissa checked her watch, a slim, silver timepiece that hung on a fine chain around her neck.  It had been a present from Lucius, upon the announcement of his engagement to Andy.  Andy was so lucky, to be matched with a man who was so considerate of her family—and handsome as well.  Narcissa hoped that when her parents chose a match for her, that it would be to someone like Lucius, and not to someone like Rudolphus.  Not that she would ever admit it, but Bella’s husband frightened her a little, with his burning eyes and his heavy silences.  Nothing like Lucius, who was so charming, and always remembered to ask her how she was doing in school.  Bella seemed happy enough, though, which was what mattered the most.  If anything, these partners showed how wise her parents were—Narcissa could rest assured that whoever her parents decided to arrange for her would be just right.

She shifted her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.  Evans was truly the most impossible partner—it had to be almost ten minutes that Narcissa had been standing in the chilly corridor!  She considered simply sitting down on the floor, propriety be damned, but the idea of Evans finding her in such a state was too awful.  With a longing look at the flagstones, she compromised by leaning slightly against the wall.  While leaning might not have been ladylike, it did fan her robes out in a flattering way, which would have to suffice.  Besides, she didn’t believe Evans even knew that leaning was improper.

And there she was now, dashing down the corridor in her sloppy way, trailing quills and parchment behind her from her open bag.  Despite fully intending not to respond to Evans’ presence in the slightest, Narcissa found herself springing to attention, back as straight as if it had suddenly remembered it was made out of steel.  It was infuriating.

“I’m so sorry, Remus, I just was in the library and I lost track—”  Evans’ looked up from where she was attempting to close her bag and started as she saw Narcissa.  Her face went through several different permutations before settling on belligerent.  “Where’s Remus?”

“I was told,” said Narcissa in her loftiest tones, “that he would be indisposed this evening, therefore requiring me to give up all of my plans to fill in for him last minute.  I’m surprised you didn’t know.  Isn’t he supposed to be your friend?”

“Fuck,” said Evans, glancing out the window.  Narcissa’s lip curled contemptuously.  That was another thing to dislike about her—she was so hopelessly vulgar.  It really was no wonder that she and Sirius were becoming so… close.  They both shared a desire to shock and offend that was incredibly tiresome.

Narcissa immediately regretted thinking of Sirius.  She usually tried to avoid acknowledging, even in the privacy of her own head, her former cousin’s existence.  She was sure that Bella would hear it somehow—she always seemed to know what Narcissa had been thinking.  But when she looked at Evans, dozens of memories of Sirius swam to the surface of her mind, teasing, laughing, noisy Sirius, who was now apparently attached to Evans at the hip.

Christmas had been a silent affair, without him, and the summer break was looking to be the same.  Her room had been next to Regulus’, and she’d heard him crying at night, for all Bella’s bragging about the well-built house with its thick walls.  When she’d brought this up to Regulus, he’d denied it with a coldness that he didn’t wear comfortably.  And when she’d tried again to talk about Sirius’ absence to Bella, her sister had slapped her.  It was the first time that Narcissa, flawless lady and delicate, pampered treasure of her parents, had ever been struck, and it had shocked her too badly to cry.  Even now, she felt her hand creeping up toward her cheek, as if she could still feel the sting.  She knew better than to speak or think about Sirius anymore.

She realized that while she’d been wool-gathering, Evans was staring back at her.  Narcissa frowned.  “What do you think you’re staring at?” she snapped.

“I could ask you the same question!  Any reason why we aren’t moving?”

She really was so messy and ignorant—it was unbelievable that the girl was a prefect.  Narcissa extended a graceful arm to point back down the corridor.  “Aren’t you planning to pick those up?  Or were you intending to leave your rubbish lying around the castle corridors?”

Evans scowled, but turned to collect her things, sweeping her wand around to summon them back to her schoolbag.  Narcissa watched the silent spell with resentment.  Bella always said that teaching mudbloods such things would give them airs, make them think that they were just as good as real wizards, and here was the proof.

Evans started on down the corridor ahead of her, not even bothering to see if she was following.  Narcissa glared at her back.  She was taller than Evans, and would be able to catch up quickly, but instead she let herself trail slightly behind, scrutinizing her.  She knew that this made Evans uncomfortable, and it was satisfying to watch her neck stiffen and her “subtly” grip her wand.

She had been hoping that Evans would have thrown a fit about the little prank she’d pulled back in January, and spared them both the ordeal of rounding together, but apparently she had known better than to make a fuss without proof.  Narcissa would have to try harder to discredit Lily Evans in the eyes of the teachers.

And she needed to discredit her—Evans was a risk, an unpredictable variable that had the potential, like a buried mine, to blow apart whatever operation the boys were planning.

Narcissa frowned, thinking.  Muggle clothes were tight in a way that was obviously trashy, but not every Slytherin boy had good taste.  One in particular, she was concerned about.  She watched Evans stride down the corridor in front of her, the swing of her hips large and obvious in her… whatever they were called.  Was that the power she held over him?  It would be cliché, but that didn’t make it unlikely.

Narcissa felt that same prickle of frustration running across her body.  If she only knew what was going on—if they would only tell her the truth, instead of pawning her off with vagaries and excuses!  The fact that they trusted that Snape boy, and not her, rankled.  He was clever, that she could admit, but brains could be as dangerous as they were valuable.  In the end, he wasn’t truly one of them, and he never would be.

Up ahead, Evans gave an exaggerated sigh, turning around with the tip of her wand lit, forcing Narcissa to blink at the sudden brightness.  “Well?  Are we patrolling, or are you too afraid of a pair of jeans to come any closer?”

What were jeans?  That the question crossed her mind at all made her angrier.  Evans was clearly laughing at her, but she wouldn’t be laughing long.  “Just worried that fleas might jump off that… thing you’re wearing.  Even for muggles, I can’t imagine that it’s considered appropriate to walk around in other people’s trash.”

Evans flushed—so there was a nerve there to hit.  She’d have to remember that.  Narcissa continued, “I can’t imagine your boyfriend would want anywhere near you, dressed like that.”

“My boyfriend?”  Evans laughed.  “What the hell are you on about?”

There were so many options that Narcissa stumbled, debating between bringing up Potter, Sirius, or Snape.  As enraging as it was to watch Evans alternate between flirting with her cousin and with any of the other boys at the Gryffindor table, there was only one boy whose personal life she had any business prying into anymore.

“Rotating them too often to be sure?” she sneered.  “I imagine you need an assistant to keep them all straight.”

“Okay,” said Evans, rolling her eyes.  “If you’re just going to call me a slut then I no longer have any interest in this conversation.  And I definitely don’t understand why you want to talk about who I may or may not be dating.”

“Does Severus know?”  It was strange to call him Severus so familiarly, but it seemed the best way to get a rise out of Evans.  “Does he know about the other boys?”

It seemed to be working—Evans had gone still at the mention of Snape’s name, even if her expression was unreadable.  “Snape?” she said quietly.  “What about him?”

Narcissa felt a triumphant smile unfurling.  “Severus.  Are you saying you’re done with him?  Moved on to bigger and better things?”

“Why is that any of your bloody business?  Really, I don’t get why you would even care…”  Evans broke off, staring at Narcissa, before giving a smile in return.  Narcissa felt it chilling her blood—she’d forgotten how wild these people were.  All of her probing carried the possibility that one day she would push the mudblood too far, and she would become violent.  If only Bella and Andy knew that she wasn’t afraid, if they could see how daring she was, in the face of these animals!  Then, maybe, they would stop treating her like a child.

“I see,” breathed Evans.  “You’re scared I’m not done with him.”  Narcissa blinked at her.  “That’s what this is about—you’re trying to figure out if I’ve got any hold over him anymore.”

Once again, Narcissa found herself back on her heels, watching Evans’ triumphant smile grow.  “You’re wondering if I’ll snap my fingers someday, and loyal little Sev will come running back to me, wrecking all of your plans.  Well, who can say?”

Evans turned away again, heading down the hallway at what was best called a saunter.  “You can never be too sure, can you?  Who might really be on your side?”

Gritting her teeth, Narcissa followed.  The conversation might not have gone her way, but it didn’t mean she hadn’t gotten what she was looking for.  It was clear: Snape was a liability, and even Evans knew it.  A plan was forming in her mind.

She’d write to Bella first—there was no reason to be bothered with Andy anymore.  Andy had been strange lately, cagey and distant.  Narcissa knew it was her behind the gag order on her classmates, for all they might say it was Malfoy who told them to leave her out of their plans.  But Bella…

She walked more quickly, brushing past a startled Evans without even glancing at her.  Yes, Bella might have been angry at her over Christmas, but she’d appreciate the information Narcissa would provide.  Bella didn’t treat her like a child—not like Andy.  If she wrote and explained that Snape risked the entire operation over an infatuation with a mudblood, there was no way that Bella would be anything but grateful… Would probably even ask her, Narcissa, to keep an eye on things for them.  She’d prove that she deserved her place, just like her sisters.  If she was lucky, they could test Snape’s loyalty and destabilize Evans in one strike.  Whatever they had planned for the vernal equinox, she’d be a part of it.  They’d never pull it off without her.

~

It was late, when Lily made it back to Gryffindor tower at last.  Patrols with Black—whether silent or combative—always left her on edge, exhausted from the late hour but jittery enough to know that sleep wouldn’t come easily.  She touched the corner of the Marauder’s Map, where it rested in her pocket.  She’d taken to carrying it around with her wherever she went, like a very small child with a safety blanket.  It was a silly to get attached like this, but she justified it by thinking how helpful something that powerful could be to have on hand, just in case.  If she’d had it back when she and Remus, or she and Sirius, had been attacked… well, she wouldn’t have had to wonder about Snape’s presence or absence from those events anymore.

She pushed open the door fully expecting to see a deserted common room, but there, on the sofa closest to the fire, jiggling his knee as he read, sat James Potter.  She’d assumed the room would be empty at this hour, but despite that she found she wasn’t surprised to see him there.  Something inside of her eased, looking at him.  The pressing anxiety of the moment before receded—not completely, but enough to let other emotions rise to the surface.

He looked up as the portrait hole swung closed, relaxing when he saw her—even his knee stopped bouncing.  “Hey,” he said.  His voice sounded a little husky, and warm.  It seemed to deposit that warmth right into the center of her chest, like a glowing coal.

“Were you waiting for me?” she asked.  He shrugged his shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Was this how Remus had felt?  She remembered the quiet joy that spread out across his face, seeing James Potter sitting in the common room, waiting for him to get back from rounds.  This felt like that.

“Where’s Remus?  It’s not a moon tonight—is he…?”

“He’s okay,” James shifted to make room for her on the sofa, but she remained where she was, standing by the entrance.  A strange, floaty feeling was building up in her arms and legs, and she wasn’t sure what they might do if she came near him.

“It was a harder moon than usual, this month, so I said he needed the rest.  But I was… I was worried.  In case Black tried anything.  So…” he trailed off, awkwardly.

“You waited up for me,” she repeated.  It wasn’t a question this time.  Something very strange was going on inside of her, something that was making her heart beat erratic and loud.

He looked away when he nodded his response, but she didn’t.  Instead she kept watching him, letting her eyes slide across his hair, his bent neck, the edge of his jaw.

“That was silly of you,” she said, walking toward him.  “You don’t even have the map…”  He looked even more awkward at her words, but the embarrassment vanished when she reached him, when he raised his head and met her eyes.  She wasn’t sure what her face was doing, but whatever it was seemed to bring James Potter to a halt.  She let herself look down at his face, at his dark eyes, and his cheekbones, and the complicated curves of his mouth.  He swallowed, and she watched it.

“Right,” he said, as if from far away.  “The map.”

Lily blinked, sitting down on the sofa next to him abruptly.  Being this close might be dangerous, but it was safer than eye contact right now.  She felt lightheaded, as if she’d just come up from underwater.  To cover her disorientation, she put one hand into her pocket and pulled out the map.  “Did—” she stopped, cleared her throat, and tried again.  “Did you need it back?”

He blinked at it, as if he didn’t recognize it.  “Oh—oh, the map.  No, no it’s okay, you…”  But Lily was already unfolding it, sliding off of the sofa onto the carpeted floor to spread it out.  After a moment, he followed, shifting from sofa to floor to peer at the activated map.

He leaned over her shoulder to see it, and the heat of him along her back made her heart give a funny little hiccup.  She dug one hand into the thick shag of the carpet to steady herself before she spoke.  “I’ve been trying to figure out how you managed to get the map to respond to people inside the castle, not just to a fixed selection of people.  How can it possibly know when a new person arrives?”

His voice sounded more normal when he spoke again.  “I’ll tell you, but you won’t believe me.”

She started to glance at him over her shoulder, but thought better of it.  “Try me.”

“We used a potion—”  Now she did look at him, head whipping around to stare at him in disbelief.

“You…”

He grinned at her, and her heart started up again, faster than ever.  “Yeah, Evans, a potion.  Bet you thought I didn’t know how to make one of those, right?  Well I made this one, and we painted the perimeter of the castle in it—all the way out around the grounds.  So anyone who crosses it gets registered and tracked…”

It was familiar and comforting, this sort of conversation.  To focus on a puzzle, instead of on the boy pushing his sleeves up and leaning across her to point out a passage she hadn’t noticed before.  Potions, she could handle.  She kept her eyes fixed on Nearly-headless Nick drifting through the wall of the Transfiguration classroom, and not on James Potter’s hand, where it rested on the map.  “Well?  How do you track the ghosts?”

Chapter Text

March came in like a lion, with the promised raging snowstorm that Mary had been dreading.  For once she was grateful for Lily’s trunk full of muggle clothes, and she and Dorcas (Marlene was too tall) took full advantage of it.  The two of them waddled around the castle with jeans and jumpers under their robes, while Lily, who was biologically incapable of feeling cold, lorded it over them.  This morning was the first clear one all week, and even the feeble winter sunshine was a welcome change in the Great Hall that morning.

Lily and Marlene were excitedly planning elaborate snow forts and weaponry that they would use to take down Sirius Black, who had spent the past few days winding Lily up to a feverish degree of competitiveness.  Personally, Mary would rather have been roasted over the fire than participate in something so inevitably cold and wet.  (Even Lily’s warming charms were never quite strong enough to keep Mary’s feet warm in the snow.)

She did feel a little bad about having refused so totally—she knew how much Lily wanted them all to be friends with Sirius.  But Marlene had managed to manipulate Dorcas into agreeing to play, which would have to suffice.  Lily was trying (unsuccessfully) to banish Sirius further down the table so that she and Marlene could discuss their tactics without being overheard, when James and the rest walked in.

Most meals, the sixth year boys arranged themselves self-consciously a certain distance away on either side of Lily, as though she was maintaining a fragile peace by virtue of being physically between them.  Usually they had the benefit of one or another of the girls sitting next to Lily, making the strip of no-man’s land between Sirius Black and his former friends a little wider, but apparently today James had gotten up the nerve to sit in the spot next to Lily himself.  Mary, wondering what could have emboldened him like this, tuned into their conversation avidly.

“I got you something,” said James, dropping a newspaper on the table with poorly feigned disinterest.  Whatever this was, he was electric with anticipation over it—even Lily noticed it, and she wasn’t exactly the most observant person in the school when it came to James Potter. 

“Are you trying to drill through to China?” snapped Dorcas from across the table, and James’ jiggling knee went abruptly still.  Mary was almost embarrassed for him, before she remembered how little James Potter needed her sympathy.  Whatever humiliation he felt over his perpetual hopeless crush on Lily was only karma getting her due.

Lily put her spoon down and turned to the paper curiously.  “What’s this?  Is this An Phoblacht?  Where’d you get an Irish muggle paper?”

James, knee now going faster than ever, shrugged one shoulder.  “It’s got that speech in it.  You know, from the guy.”  Lily, presented with this clear and concise description, only blinked at him.

By this point, Marlene had noticed that something was going on, and was leaning closer to Mary to whisper in her ear.  “Is something going to happen here, or are we just enjoying him crashing and burning?”

James, with obvious effort, strung more words together.  “The guy who was on trial.  Who made that speech to the jury—they published part of it here.  I thought…”

“Joe O’Connell?”*

“Yeah.  Him.”  Now that Lily had figured out what he was talking about, a palpable relief swept over James Potter.  His shoulders went down, and the knee slowed, about point eight seconds before Dorcas did something very ugly to it.  “That is… I mean, you said you wanted to read his speech, right?”

Lily stared down at the headlines, a strange expression on her face.  “How did you get this?”

James was rambling about his mother, who was in journalism, and how she used to write for muggle papers as well, and how she still kept in touch with them, but it wasn’t clear if Lily was listening at all.  Instead she remained fixated on the paper in her hands, face very still.  It was the look she always got when things were ticking away in her mind, puzzle pieces assembling, preparing themselves for the big realization, whenever it came.  Mary found herself holding her breath.  Beside her, Marlene (who had March in the pool), was squeezing her shoulder with anticipation.

“You went and found his speech in a muggle paper.”

“Yeah, I mean, it sounded important.”  The “important to you” went unsaid, but it hung in the air with the subtlety of a disco ball.

“And it was really interesting, too—he was making comparisons to the British actions in Kenya and other former colonies.  There was a lot I wanted to talk to you about…”

Lily looked back up at him.  She seemed slightly dazed, as if refocusing on his face took effort.  “You read it?”

“Course I did…”  James looked so adoring that Mary just about started handing Marlene money then and there.  There seemed no way that Lily could fail to see it too.

“What’re you looking at me like that for, Evans?  Surprised?”

“It’s just… I didn’t know you could read…”  And the thoughtful look left Lily’s face, replaced by a grin as she took the easy out.  “I always assumed Remus read your assignments aloud to you—”

Marlene gave a quiet wail as her eight galleons slipped through her fingers once again.  Dorcas, snorting unsympathetically, leaned across Marlene to grab another orange.  “Marlene, you know when you pretend to be stupid so you can ignore men flirting with you?”  (Marlene acknowledged the truth of this statement with a self-satisfied smile)  “That’s Lily.  Except she’s not pretending.  Which is why I’ve got the safe money, on ‘not in this lifetime.’”

Dorcas made a compelling point, but the gentle way Lily’s hand smoothed the front of the newspaper seemed to contradict it.

The Great Hall was beginning to fill, as the majority of students made a rush to grab breakfast in the last half hour that it was available.  This coincided with mail delivery, and for fifteen minutes the cacophony was so great that Mary couldn’t have heard someone clapping next to her ear.  At least she had the new Witch Weekly to entertain herself with for the brief time in which conversation was impossible.

Conversation might have seemed impossible, but apparently even the owls and scraping benches were nothing to people who really committed to having the loudest voices in any room.  “Evans, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, I don’t have it!”  Sirius and Lily’s argument rose over the gradually filling great hall, so that it was impossible to miss.

“And I’ve told you that there’s absolutely no way you gave it back to me!  If you don’t find it, I’ll have your head on a pike—my granda, may god rest his soul, gave me that record!”  Dorcas was pointedly ignoring the debate, while Marlene was watching with great entertainment, her eyes ping-ponging back and forth between the two.

“Yeah, pull the other one, Evans, your grandfather wasn’t buying A Night at the Opera to bequeath you with his last dying breath.  It didn’t even come out until nineteen-seventy-fucking-five!  You stole it from your mate’s boyfriend last summer and I know that for a fact—"

“Okay, so maybe I did, but A—he found religion and was going to smash up his whole collection!  And B—that doesn’t change how dead you’ll be if you don’t find it…”

“I’m telling you, it’s gone!  Vanished!  There’s no way—”

“Good God, Sirius, it’s been under your bed for months!”

The sudden quiet was so startling that Mary thought she’d been hit by a deafening jinx.  Then she realized who it was who had cut in, and the pool of silence around them began to make sense.  Remus Lupin speaking to Sirius Black, after months of the cold shoulder, was so startling as to bring half of the Gryffindor table to a halt.

Mary couldn’t look away.  The whole thing seemed to be unfolding in slow motion.  Heads turned jerkily toward Remus like rubberneckers passing a seven car pile-up.  Some fifth year, sitting a few seats down, dropped her fork in shock.  For his part, Remus continued to eat, one bite, another, before his own words seemed to register, and he froze.

Everyone was looking at Remus except for Sirius.  He was staring straight ahead, a terrible hope filling his face.  Slowly, as if he couldn’t be sure this was really happening, Sirius turned his head to meet Remus’ eyes.

What he saw in them made him recoil.  Remus, face white with fury, shook off James’ restraining hand and left the table without another word.

Sirius was left sitting stiffly in his seat, so still as to hardly be breathing; then he stood up so abruptly the table almost flipped.  Mary, feeling like she was on a delay, grabbed her goblet too late to keep the juice from slopping out of it.

Sirius kicked the bench over, students sitting on it jumping to their feet to get out of his way.  “Fuck all of you!  Fuck!”  He shot a savage, inexplicable look at the Slytherin table, then, he too was storming out of the hall.

Hushed, feverish conversation spilled back in his wake.  Across the table, Lily and James shared a loaded glance, then without speaking they were up and leaving, James after Remus, and Lily after Sirius.

After that scene, Mary had a lot to think about, and even more to discuss.  Already she could spot her Hufflepuff girlfriends beelining toward her from across the hall, eager for the scoop.  But none of her friends would be interested in the other story, the bit that she had gotten hung up on herself.  The way Lily and James had reacted…  Since when were they able to work together on anything?

~

Lily wandered the castle looking for James for almost half an hour before she remembered that she could use the Map to find him.  Sure enough, he was out on the quidditch pitch—she really should have thought to check there first, no matter the weather.  What was a little snow, when there was sunshine and impervious charms?

By the time she got out there, though, he was nowhere to be seen.  Glancing around her, she pulled out the map again to check.  She frowned at it.  Sure enough, there was James Potter, supposedly right in front of her nose—could the map be defective in some way?  She closed it, then opened it again, but nothing had changed.  She was just readying her wand to try a new tactic when James swept down out of the air above her, startling her backward into a snowdrift.

“Potter!”

“Boo,” he said, dismounting his broom.  He was grinning, his hair windswept from the dive in that way she always pretended to hate.  She scowled at him, scrunching up her face to keep it from grinning back.  “You know the one problem with that thing—it’s only got the two dimensions… Absolutely no protection against attacks from above or below!”

“Idiot—what if it got wet when you knocked me over?  What then?”

“Evans, you underrate us once again.  Remus put so many durability charms on that thing, you could chuck it right in the fire and it wouldn’t get a scratch.”

“Is that so?” said Lily thoughtfully.

“Trust me—you couldn’t damage it if you tried!”

“Well, in that case…”  Lily tossed the map aside, leaned up, and yanked James down by the front of his robes.  Arms flailing, he fell sideways into the drift with a yelp.

“Evans, nooo…  I didn’t even cast a warming charm!  You know I’m rubbish at charms!  No—no!  Not down my robes!  You’ll regret this!”

~

By the time James conceded defeat, even Lily’s impeccable impervious charms were beginning to wear thin.  Her victory dance on the bottom row of the quidditch stands was marred by shivers that were obvious even to him, still down on the ground.

“Have mercy, Evans,” he called up to her.  “I’m not built for this weather!”  He gave a dramatic, full-body shudder to emphasize his point.

Flushed with victory, Lily clambered down from the stands.  “It’s because you’re wearing robes.  They’re just not practical!”

“I don’t know what they get up to over in Ireland, but I was designed for the sub-Saharan island sunshine.  It’s cruel to force me to spend any amount of time in a Scottish winter!”

“Oh, come off it—I know your da is as English as they come…”

James drew himself and his soggy robes up to his full, dignified height.  “I am my mother’s son where it counts.”  This answer was punctuated with an embarrassing shiver, unstaged for once.  He really needed to get better at warming charms.  Lily took pity on him, and the two of them gathered up his broom, the map, the layers they’d shed during the fight, and ducked under the quidditch stands to where the ground was dry.  Lily conjured some lovely lilac flames—her charm work was always so pretty—and then set about drying their hats and scarves.

He wondered if he had the nerve to sit closer to her.  He could pass it off as wanting to get nearer to the fire… but it was probably better not to risk it.  Instead, he busied himself with inspecting the Marauder’s Map for any evidence of water damage.  Remus’ spells still held, the thin inked lines as crisp as ever.  Remus was in the library, where he’d left him, but Sirius…  He finally found Sirius in the last place he’d expected to see him.

“He’s okay,” said Lily.  He looked up at her, startled, and realized she’d crept closer without him noticing.  For a moment he could see every fleck in her green eyes, before she glanced back down at the map, where Sirius Black was in the center of the otherwise empty sixth year boys’ dorms.  “Well, as okay as he ever is.  I think he must have gone to get the record… I told him I’d make you get it, but I’d bet he wanted the excuse to go back anyway.”

A drop of water splashed down on the map, obscuring Sirius’ name.  For a mortifying moment he thought he might have started crying, but when Lily laughed at him he realized it was only snow-melt from his hair.

“Here, just… Look at me, I’ll get it.”  She raised her wand and began blowing a thin stream of hot air out of the tip, drying the water in his hair.  She was so close… He sat as still as he possibly could.  He didn’t trust himself to move—his hands felt far too big for his body.  Giggling, she ran the stream of air down over his face, until he was forced to close his eyes against it.  Closing his eyes was a relief—Lily that close, laughing…

It was silent, then.  Even the rush of hot air on his face had ceased.  Cautiously, he opened his eyes.

She was staring at him, just as close as she’d been before, but this time without the obvious reason of drying his hair to make her look at him like that.  She’d been staring at him a lot, lately.  Laughter was lingering around the edges of her mouth (which he should stop looking at) but her eyes were serious, thoughtful.  They moved over his face, just looking, as if she hadn’t seen him in a long time.

He opened his mouth.  “Evans,” he started to say, “what are you doing?”

~

She wasn’t sure what she was doing.  Some impulse she couldn’t put words to was driving her to lean forward, to just…

When she kissed him, he had just started to say her name.  It was strange to feel the shape of it—Evans—rather than see it.  Everything suspended itself around them: just the softness of his lips, his mouth slightly open on her name, the awkward way her neck was bent to reach him.  As their lips met, it started feeling less like an impulse, and more like finishing a thought, an obvious conclusion to something she’d left hanging in the air for too long.

She hadn’t really kissed anyone before.  Or at least, not in a way that mattered.  She’d kissed Bertram Aubrey during a game of spin-the-bottle in third year and absolutely hated it (and she’d found out later he’d jinxed the bottle, so, bugger Aubrey) and last summer her muggle friends had noticed her moping and set her up with one of their boyfriend’s mates.  They’d gone to the movies and necked in the back row once or twice, and it had been fine, or at least Mark seemed to really enjoy it, but he was also doing most of the work on those occasions.

Which was all to say that the dizzying, breathless feeling that rushed through her when she put her mouth on James Potter’s was entirely new.  But also, that this straightforward press of lips was about all that she knew how to do on her own.  If he didn’t start doing something…  A horrible thought struck her.  Maybe he hadn’t wanted her to kiss him at all!  Maybe he was just sitting there, frozen, waiting for it to be over, just like she had during spin-the-bottle!  Panicked, she lurched back, just as his hand rose as if to cup her face.  It brushed along her jaw as she pulled away, before dropping back onto his knee.

They stared at each other.  His mouth was still a little open, and he was staring at her like he’d never seen her before.  “Sorry,” she blurted out.  Her jaw, for all that his fingers had barely touched it, was still burning.

“What?” he said.

“I didn’t ask… I just kissed you out of nowhere, and who even knows if you wanted to be kissed!  Mary says boys always want to be kissed even if you look like a troll, but she’s inaccurate about many many things so…”

He was looking at her, bemused, but a smile was starting to creep across his face.

“I just…” she wasn’t doing a very good job of explaining herself, but having his eyes on her like that kept scattering her thoughts.  “I don’t want to be Bertram Aubrey.”

His eyebrows went up.

“You know,” she said, inanely.  “He jinxed the bottle in third year.”

By some miracle, James seemed to make sense of all this.  “Oh, right,” he said, sitting back a little.  “We hexed him for that.”

“That was why you hexed him?”

He looked awkward.  “Well, you know.  Mostly.”

She was starting to get nervous again.  It was true that he didn’t seem angry, but he still hadn’t really answered her question.  As if he’d picked up on her anxieties, he looked back at her and said, firmly, “I’m not mad that you kissed me.”

The relief she felt was truly pathetic.  “No?”

“No.”  He grinned.  “I mean, I can’t say that I’d want to kiss a troll—they’re quite slimy you know—and definitely not Bertram Aubrey either, but…”  She was trying to scowl at his teasing, but it kept turning into a smile.

“But this…”  He suddenly seemed less sure of himself.  “It was alright.”  She glared at him.  “Nice! It was nice!  Ten out of ten!  It was just, you know, a little…”

“Ugh!” said Lily, flopping back on the dead grass, face burning.  “You hated it!”

“No!” He sounded frantic.  He leaned over, forcing her to look at him.  His face was way too close, hovering over her like this, and she thought about closing her eyes so that she didn’t have to look at his stupid eyelashes, but that seemed like a cowardly thing to do.  “I liked it.  I liked it a lot, really.  You can kiss me any time.  That is, you know, if you want to…”

She sat up indignantly, almost cracking their heads together.  “If I want to?  I’m the one who kissed you!”

“Well, you know,” he gave a vague, floppy hand gesture which she was sure was intended to convey some sort of meaning, but which did not remotely succeed at it.  “You kinda, got out of there fast.  I thought you might have changed your mind.”

“Oh.”  She sat there for a moment, thinking.  There seemed to be no other way around it than to tell the truth.  “It’s not… It’s just… I wasn’t sure what to do next,” she said in a rush.  “You were just sitting there, and I haven’t really… I mean, I haven’t kissed a lot of people before.”

He looked like he might be hiding a smile, so she shot him a sullen glare.  “And now I bet you’re going to say you’ve kissed loads of people…”

“Not really,” he said.  “I mean, I had that girlfriend beginning of fifth, and Sirius and I used to practice—”

He broke off, but it was too late.  Lily was grinning at him, suddenly feeling much more in control of the situation.  “Ooooh, didn’t mean to let that one slip, did you, Potter?”

“Shut up,” he scowled.

“Sirius and Potter, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N—”  He reached out and covered her mouth with his hand, shocking her into silence.

He dropped his hand as if she burned.  “Sorry,” he muttered, but his eyes lingered where his hand had been.

She had the idiotic impulse to touch her lips, and she clenched her hands together to resist it.  She saw his eyes drop to where her hands were twisted in her lap, and he reached out—so slowly—and covered them with his own.  His hands were very warm, and large, and then they were kissing again, and it was much better than last time, and then all she could think about was the slow slide of his lips across hers.  She gripped his hands—they felt like they were shaking, but maybe that was her imagination.

When they stopped he didn’t pull all the way back, lingering with his face close to hers, eyes closed.  She could have counted every eyelash, dark against his cheeks.  This close, she could see the little freckles on the bridge of his nose, almost invisible against his brown skin.  She felt the funny urge to kiss them, and then she thought that maybe it wasn’t so funny, after all, but by then he had opened his eyes and sat back, smiling.

“That was better, right?”

“Well,” she said, mindlessly.  Her thoughts were drifting, scattered like light through a window charm.  “It would be.  Seeing as you learned all of your moves from Sirius, that is.”

“Hey!  How do you know Sirius didn’t learn them from me!”

Chapter Text

“I still don’t get what’s so special about tomorrow night,” said Mary, from her position on the best armchair near the fire.  “I mean, Lily, do you get it?”

“I dunno,” said Lily, who was lying with her legs hanging over the sofa arm and her head in Alice’s lap.  “I kinda assumed it would be like that time we went with Marlene’s mum and da to see the Halloween celebrations in Cornwall…”

“Exactly!” cheered Marlene.  “Exactly like that, except that this time, there won’t be any parents around to keep us from drinking… or other things… if you know what I mean…”  She gave what was probably intended to be a dramatic wink, but turned out more of a dramatic blink—Marlene couldn’t shut one eye at a time.

Dorcas scoffed.  “As if you’d be participating in anything interesting—no orgies for my girlfriends, thank you very much!”

“There’s WHAT!” shrieked Mary.  Lily was grateful for Mary’s dependably horrified response, since it saved her the embarrassment of expressing similar sentiments.

“Oh, relax, Mary,” said Frank, looking up from where he was twisting sections of Alice’s hair.  “Do you think Alice and I were likely to attend any orgies?”

“I don’t speak for your sex life,” said Marlene.  “Only for my own.”

“She speaks lies,” interjected Dorcas.

“It’s safe, Mary—I promise!” said Alice soothingly.  “Really, this one is more touristy than anything else… more like a disco with costumes than anything you might read about.”

Mary still didn’t look entirely convinced.  “It said it was an ancient fertility ritual…”

Lily, who trusted Alice's judgement entirely, jumped in.  “I mean, probably just in the same way that Easter is…”

“So no one does stuff like that anymore?” asked Mary dubiously.

“No—” Alice started to say, but Frank cut her off.

“Well, not in Hogsmeade at any rate.  But I dunno… a lot of pureblood families get really intense about the traditional wizard holidays.  I wouldn’t put it past some of the real nutters to keep this shit alive…”

Everyone instinctively looked at Sirius.

“Well,” said Lily, in hindsight a little too loudly, “I’m not asking Sirius Black if he’s been in any ritualistic orgies lately—”

“I believe I heard somebody call my name?  And in conjunction with something verrrry salacious…”  Sirius leaned suavely on the back of the couch to smirk down at Lily.  “Why Evans, I had no idea you were interested…”

Lily groaned, flailing up with one arm to smack her hand into his face, attempting to push it back down behind the couch.  It was at times like these that she truly regretted any past friendly overtures she may have made to Sirius Black—she must have been temporarily insane.  She was sure a good lawyer would be able to extricate her from any obligations of friendship to a man as obnoxious as this one.

“Black, this is a private conversation—”

“—private like an orgy?”

Sirius clearly would not be so easily dismissed.  Lily was sitting up to give him a piece of her mind when she saw James coming down the boys staircase, and James saw her.

At the playground she used to go to when she was very young—not the one where she met Snape, but the one at her childhood house, the one in her youngest memories—there was a merry-go-round, the kind you push around in circles and jump onto.  She used to lie with her head in the center, at the stillest space, and leave her legs pointing out to the edge, where the wheel spun the fastest.  Her feet would bounce against the splintery wood, dragged this way and that by the centrifugal forces, while her eyes saw only a peaceful blue sky.  Ever since they’d kissed, looking at James Potter felt like that: one part of her dizzy and out of control, but stillness deep down, at her very center.

Of course, trying to talk to him was another matter—more like trying to stand and walk after Petunia had spun her past her limit.  Lurching and drunk and unsure if she was going to fall over or be sick.

He hadn’t looked away, and she could feel herself stumbling around, no particular goal other than to walk like a normal human being, one whose guts weren’t spinning inside of her.

“Alright, Evans?” he said.

“Hi.”  It came out embarrassingly breathy.

“I take it back, Marlene,” said Mary, thoughtfully.  “Whatever this is, it’s worse.”

Lily tore her eyes away only to see that Sirius had vanished again.

~

Lily eventually stood to join Remus on prefect rounds, determined to be on time for once.  Remus had to meet her at the prefect office this week—he had DADA tutoring with a group of third years that would last the whole way until rounds began, and this created a unique opportunity to beat him there.  Buoyed by thoughts of the look on his face if she was early and he was even a minute late, she climbed through the portrait hole with an energy and purpose that prefect rounds did not usually elicit.  Once through, however, all such thoughts fled her mind—James Potter was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall opposite.

It was hard to just look at him, now that she knew how soft his hair actually was, how it felt to touch his neck, how his shoulders would move under her hands.  Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her mind, and now she couldn’t look at James Potter’s mouth without trying to kiss it.  Like she had been for the past week, she pushed the thoughts away to deal with later, at a more suitable time.  A time when her stomach wasn’t fluttering in such a distracting way, a time when his eyes weren’t on her and she could focus properly.

He peeled himself off of the wall and started toward her—he was much taller than her, and she had to tilt her head to look at him.  It was actually a helpful thing about him, his height, since it meant that his mouth was out of reach and she wouldn’t do something embarrassing again.  Embarrassing like in the Transfiguration classroom when they were practicing nonverbal spells, or in the abandoned common room drinking chai and watching the Map for Remus, or sitting underneath the Quidditch stands.  Safe, reliable distance from his mouth.

He ducked his head to make eye contact with her, risking that all-important buffer of distance between them.  Lily had just wondered if she was crazy enough to kiss him in full view in the Gryffindor corridor, when the Fat Lady interrupted.

“Excuse me?” she said, in a decidedly displeased tone of voice, “But you are planning to leave Gryffindor tower, are you not?”

Lily, blushing furiously, yanked her right foot out of the portrait hole, letting the Fat Lady swing shut with a pointed snap.  “Potter,” she said coolly.  “What do you want?”

“Um,” he said, looking confused.  Lily cursed herself.  It was possible she’d overdone it on the coolness, since he was starting to look as though he regretted approaching her.

“Sorry,” she said, gesturing in what she hoped was a casual manner.  “It’s just, I’m in a hurry.”

“Right.”  There was a long pause, during which she looked at him expectantly.  He cleared his throat.  “Well.  I guess?  I was just going to ask…”  He trailed off, looking if anything even more nervous.  It was starting to get very bizarre—he was so rarely tongue-tied.

“James?”  She stepped closer to him, concern winning out over self-preservation.

“Areyougoingtotheparty?”

“What?” she said blankly, then, “ohh, the one in Hogsmeade? For the Equinox?”

He nodded, silently.

“Oh.  Yeah, I am.  Me and the girls and Frank are all going…”  She failed to understand the significance of this question, but she could feel it in the air, making her heart rate pick up.

“Cool.  Cool.  Me too.  That is, me and Remus and Peter.  We’re all going too.”

“Right,” she said.  It felt dreadfully important that they were both going, even though (as she told herself rationally) it was only to be expected that they would both go to a party with the rest of their classmates.

“So… Maybe I’ll see you there?”

“Yeah…”  Her voice was oddly breathless.  They stood there staring at each other, the conversation hanging in the air as if to give her a chance to hear how silly she sounded, but now his eyes had dropped to her mouth, and if she wasn’t thinking about kissing him again…

He cleared his throat, eyes back on hers as if they’d never drifted.  “Um… didn’t you say you were in a hurry?”

“Shite!” Lily shrieked, throwing her hands up and almost catching James in the face as she pushed past him.  “I’m late!”

Remus, when she arrived well after him, was unbearably smug.

~

The next evening found Lily standing over her trunk wondering—for what may have been the first time in her life—what she should wear.  Ordinarily she would have just put on muggle clothes, and the brazen nerve she needed to walk around Hogwarts in jeans would easily overwhelm any concerns of looking “pretty.”  But tonight, going to a wizard traditional festival… it was clear that none of her bellbottoms, t-shirts, or nice dresses (courtesy of her mother) were the answer.  She didn’t want to question why it was suddenly so important that her outfit be both culturally appropriate and flattering, but she was sure there was a sensible, logical reason for it.  Once the other girls began dressing, however, she quickly realized that she had been worrying about the wrong thing.

Similar to the wizard Halloween, the guises the other girls were taking on were more uncanny creature than club outfit—Marlene, with a tall straw mask that looked like a cage, seemed surrounded by fluttering wings of white fabric, while Dorcas made Mary scream with a terrifying bleached-white horse’s skull that slid down over her face.  Even Mary, who was less inclined to horror and magical costuming, wore robes that seemed to be entirely made from torn streamers of fabric.

They dressed Lily as a boy, in Marlene’s brother’s robes, and with a brightly painted mask charmed to hover just over her face.  The mask moved in an exaggerated mimic of her own expression, and it was both unsettling and fascinating to watch.  Lily appreciated the men’s robes, though—she didn’t think she could have tolerated being trapped in something as restricting as Mary’s or Marlene’s dresses.  And her mask did leave a full range of vision.

Alice—her afro teased out to massive heights—stuck her head in the door.  “You girls ready yet?”

Trailing red ribbons (which were apparently traditional), and pulling their masks down over their faces, the Gryffindor girls trouped out of the tower after Alice.

~

Frank’s plan was to sneak them through the Forbidden Forest, and out into Hogsmeade that way.  After twenty minutes of trudging through the dark and frosted forest, Lily was regretting the noble instincts that had prevented her from taking them all through Sirius’ tunnel.

She spared a guilty thought for Sirius.  Maybe she should have invited him to come with their group, and to hell with what Dorcas might think.  Although she was sure his pride would have forced him to decline, it would have been a nice gesture.  It must have hurt, to know his friends were sneaking around to parties without him.

She tripped, catching herself on Mary’s shoulder, and her thoughts returned, longingly, to the secret tunnel behind the mirror.  It might have been equally dark and cold down there, but at least it would have been dry, and there wouldn’t have been any branches to catch on anyone’s costume.

It did have a strange appeal, though, watching the group of them parade through the moonlight forest.  The magical elements of all of their costumes—from the bright glowing eyes of Dorcas’ horse head, to the rams horns sprouting from Frank’s head, to the constant motion of Marlene’s robes—had a haunting effect out in the wilds of Scotland that she wasn’t sure would be quite the same under a disco’s lights.

She had thought wrong.  When they finally arrived and were ushered into the warm room, the swirling lights and colors brought a new, crazed energy to the figures she was just starting to get used to.  Frank’s face swung toward her, the jaw of his mask falling open to reveal a long scarlet tongue, and she shivered.

Of course, all the mask said was, “You alright there, Lily-billy?” and she felt silly for having been afraid.  It was only people, after all, under all of these crazy costumes.  She put her grandma’s tales firmly out of her mind, dismissing also the whisper that reminded her that she’d had more to fear from people, lately.  Frank and his ram’s horns nodded farewell, before slipping away onto the dance floor after Alice.

Scanning the crowd, Lily felt her stomach tighten for a very different reason.  James had said he would be here, after all, and she had no doubt that the boys had beaten them to the party, what with their incredible knowledge of the Hogwarts passageways.  Spotting him among all the costumed revelers, however, seemed impossible.  Of course, Lily reminded herself, it doesn’t matter if you find him or not—or at least, you don’t have to find him right away.  But as she went to move away from the floor, pretending (unconvincingly) that she wasn’t disappointed, she saw him.

She couldn’t have said what it was she recognized—his shoulders maybe, or his stance—but she was as sure as could be that James Potter was up on the stage, in full armor, performing an elaborate duel against someone dressed as an enormous green dragon.  The two of them wove between the members of the band, exchanging melodramatic blows, the dragon with its claws, the knight with a sword.  There were cheers from the crowd as the dragon reared back and shot a jet of flame at the knight.  Despite herself, her heart leaped to her throat, only dropping back down when she saw him block it.  Sword now aflame, the knight leapt across the stage to plunge the burning sword into the dragon’s back.  Defeated, the dragon slumped to the ground, its head falling off to reveal a sweaty and exhausted Peter.

The knight thrust the dragon’s head triumphantly in the air, to shouts and tossed coins from the crowd.  Peter staggered to his feet, the two of them bowed and jumped down from the stage, where she lost them again in the crowd.

Resigned, Lily began to push through to the bar.  James’ performance that had held her transfixed, but it was over now, and she was beginning to feel spooked again.

She never reached the bar.  As suddenly as if he’d apparated the knight appeared in front of her, his gleaming breastplate centimeters from her nose, making her go almost cross-eyed.  She looked up at him, struggling to focus through the swirling lights and the strange, pounding music.  Her pulse, which had quieted, started back up again, throbbing in her ears with the beat.

“Alright, Evans?” he asked.

~

Alice was following the dancers, weaving through the lines with ease.  Ease born of practice: she and Frank had gone through these motions dozens of times before he brought her to his family’s Halloween for the first time.  She’d been so grateful that Frank wasn’t the kind of man who would assume she knew what to expect, for all that she had a witch for a mother.  He’d cleared everyone out of the boys dorms the first few times through the routines, and she’d known it had been so that she wouldn’t be embarrassed, practicing.  It was a sweet gesture, but dancing could never be embarrassing to Alice, no matter how foreign the steps.

Later some of his friends had snuck back in, and she’d taken turns dancing with all of them.  It hadn’t just been the fifth year boys, she remembered… No, some of the older boys that Frank knew before he started at Hogwarts came down as well, other purebloods who knew these dances.  They’d been a wild time, those two—she’d laughed so hard with them that Frank even pretended to be jealous.  The practice was paying off now—she hardly had to think about the moves she was making.  Alice ducked under an arm gracefully and continued down the line to where she knew Frank would be waiting.

If she hadn’t already been thinking of them, she probably would never have noticed them.  But as it was, a spark of recognition caught her, had her turning her eyes from her current partner to look again at the two tall men standing on the side of the room.  There—the way they leaned toward each other, the red hair she glimpsed peeking out from behind a mask… It had to be them!

Her last partner twirled her dramatically back into Frank’s waiting arms.  He was wearing that terrifying mask, but she could tell he was smiling at her underneath it.  “You look gorgeous,” he said, “there’s no one here who isn’t jealous of me…”

“Frank, you won’t believe who I saw!”  She was excited enough for him to step them sideways out of the dance so that they could talk.  “It was the Prewetts—both of them, I’m sure of it!”

“My only rivals!” Frank swore dramatically, turning to scan the room for them.

“Oh, come off it… do you think I’d leave you for a pair of twins?”

“No,” he was still looking, following her gesture toward the far wall, “for Fabian.  You always liked Fabian best…”

“I like you best.”

His arm curled around her waist in a familiar, affectionate gesture.  “There they are—over by the strawman—I’m sure it’s them…”

He frowned—she could feel it more than see it.  “I thought they were supposed to be in auror training right now…”

“Maybe they snuck out?  One wild night off?”

“They’re not dancing… and I don’t see any drinks…” Frank trailed off, and Alice looked at the Prewetts more closely.  Frank was right—it was strange.  They were usually the life of the party wherever they went, but tonight they seemed content to stand silently on the edge of the room, watching the crowd.  Watching, or looking for something?

Alice remembered her father, before protests, running her through ways to spot an undercover cop.  And the Prewetts were checking those boxes: the alertness, the systematic way they scanned the dance floor, their backs to the wall, eyes flicking from exit to exit… It was subtle, but it was there.  Alice was wishing she could see their shoes—her father had always said that cops’ shoes were a dead giveaway.  But then, something caught the eye of the twin on the left, and his hand twitched, just for a moment, to grip a wand in a concealed holster.  Alice’s hand clutched at the arm on her waist, hard.  “Frank,” she warned, “I don’t think they’re here for the party.”

~

“Alright, Evans?”

He really did take the breath out of her.  Lily fumbled for words.  “How did you know it was me?” she said, after a moment.

The knight shrugged one shiny pauldron, an entirely ungallant gesture that dropped him straight down from the magnificent St. George, slayer of the dragon, to only James Potter, teenage boy.  Teenage boy who’d somehow spotted her, disguised and blending into a hundred or more witches and wizards.  Lily found herself giving him a giddy smile, although she was sure it looked terrifying with the mask.

“Hi, Potter.”

“How did you recognize me, then?”

“Who else would climb up on the stage and claim everyone’s attention at a party that’s not even their own?”  She reached out and touched the red cross on his chest.  “Saint George at a wizard holiday?”

“Who’s Saint George?  This is George the Dragonslayer, third century wizard who discovered the first three uses of dragon’s blood.”

“He’s a muggle story too…”  It felt significant, in the way that she found herself assigning significance to so many little coincidences surrounding James Potter lately.

“Really?  That’s so cool!  I mean, do muggles think he’s cool too?”

She fully intended to tell him no, that muggles thought St. George was a thick idiot with a massive head, but at that moment the music changed, distracting her entirely.  Before she’d consciously recognized the song, she had already turned to stare at the stage, and the wizarding band that was performing.  She shook her head, as though she could shake her hearing straight, but the song continued.  Somewhere in the crowd, she heard a delighted scream that could only be Mary.

She pushed her mask up, as though it would let her hear more clearly.  “Is that…”

The singer started, oooh, you can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life… and the opening lines of ‘Dancing Queen’ spilled out over an assembly of wizards.  As she watched, most of them went from milling around in confusion to gamely (and in many cases enthusiastically) beginning to dance again.

“Want to dance, Evans?”  When she didn’t answer, he lifted the visor of his helmet to peer at her more closely.  “Come on, Lily—I didn’t learn the hustle for nothing, now, did I?”

She turned to look at him—without the visor, she could see the suppressed eagerness in his face, the hint of anxiety that spread further with each moment she stayed silent.  “Did you do this?”

There was the same shrug, bashful in a way that she’d never expected to see James Potter.  Something was ticking away at the back of her mind, assembling evidence, an epiphany taking slow shape in her subconscious, one that she was sure would hit her hard when it was ready, but for now… her heartbeat couldn’t be controlled, and neither could her smile.  She decided to give up trying.

“Alright, Potter—let’s dance.”

~

Frank pushed through the crowd, Alice slipping along in his wake.  Fear was building inside her gut, setting her pulse thundering in her ears and her hands clenching into fists.  Steady, she reminded herself.  It’s probably nothing, but whatever it is can only be helped if you stay calm.  By the time they’d reached the Prewetts, she’d considered and discarded a dozen possibilities for an auror presence at the ball, some innocent, others bloody.

When they spotted Frank and Alice, it was clear that they weren’t happy to see them, another thing to add to the pile of evidence making her heart sink.  Frank seemed to have thought the same, since he barely bothered with a greeting.

“Fabian, Gideon,” he nodded to each of them.  Alice had never known how he told them apart so easily, but he was right every time.  “Is there going to be trouble here tonight?”

Fabian and Gideon didn’t remove their masks, but they did release the charm a little, so that the masks hovered farther out from their faces, letting people close enough see part of their expression.  Fabian (she was pretty sure) looked down at her with a regretful smile.  “Heya, Alice.”

Faced with Frank’s unbending stance, Gideon’s professional façade crumbled a little.  “No trouble—at least we hope not.”

“We’re not here in an… official capacity.  You understand,” added Fabian.  “We’re only here just in case…”

Alice cut him off.  “Fabian, there are dozens of kids here—students!  Like there are every year!  If you think there even might be trouble, we have to get them out!”

“We can’t let you do that,” said Gideon, with finality.

Alice was suddenly glad she had foregone a mask tonight, letting her face say what she couldn’t find words for.

“That’s unacceptable,” said Frank.  That was one word for it!  “You can’t risk minors like that!”

“Damnit—look,” said Fabian, leaning forward.  “We could always be wrong about our suspicions, but if we’re not, and anyone catches on to our presence here, or feels like their plans are known, then there really will be trouble.  You have to just.  Sit.  Tight.”

“Help us keep an eye out, if anything.  But nothing else—”

“Fuck that!”  A few heads swiveled over to them at Alice’s outburst, but luckily didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary and quickly lost interest.  “I am getting those kids out of here, now,” Alice finished, fierce and low.

“Bloody—fine!” snapped Fabian, looking at her unrelenting face.  “But do it quietly.  Get who you came with and leave.  But no questions, no discussion, no running, you hear me?”

Without responding, Alice turned and began pushing through the crowd away from them.  She knew without looking that Frank was close behind her.  His presence, so solid and unshakable, was a touchstone for her sanity.  She couldn’t believe how foolish they’d been—to take all of these girls out without so much as a signal or way to communicate!  Not to mention all of the other students who would have snuck out separately!  She knew James and Peter, at least, were here, meaning that Remus was as well… but how many other students from other houses, she couldn’t be sure.

“Kingsley’s here,” said Frank in her ear.  “I know what his costume looks like, I can find him and let him know what’s going on.”  And that was a comfort as well, Kingsley was the closest thing she’d ever met to a genius, but even more importantly he was unflappable under pressure.

“You go after the girls,” Frank continued, speaking to thoughts she hadn’t even expressed yet.  “We have to start with the ones we know for certain are here, before we can worry about any hypothetical attendees.”

“Okay.  Okay.”  She couldn’t make the same mistake again, letting him disappear without a plan to find each other again.  “Meet at the entrance in five minutes to reassess?”

He nodded, turning to go, but she couldn’t let go of his hand yet.  “Frank…”

He stepped back to her side and kissed the side of her head, mostly lost in her hair.  “Love you too.”

~

Dorcas was loitering by the bar, waiting for Marlene to return with their drinks.  Bartenders typically responded better to Marlene, with her tall, willowy figure and long blonde hair, and the two of them often scored free drinks by sending Marlene up to buy them.  A bonus to the cheap drinks, in her opinion, was getting to watch men try to flirt with Marlene, who would maintain a vapid façade so total and dense that any romantic overtures would be lost in the fog.  Dorcas almost felt sorry for them.

Marlene returned, sipping on what was obviously Dorcas’ drink and making a face.  “I told you you wouldn’t like it,” Dorcas said, rolling her eyes.

Marlene ignored her, as she did all input that she preferred not to receive.  “Guess who I saw,” she said, sing-song.

Dorcas never guessed—Marlene knew this.  Instead of waiting for one, Marlene gestured over her shoulder, sloshing her drink slightly.  In the corner that she pointed to were Sirius and Remus, standing close together, masks off.  It would have been shocking to see them speaking to each other, if they hadn’t obviously been engaged in a bitter argument.

“Merlin,” said Dorcas, taking a long swig of her drink.  Just watching them made her consider the benefits of alcoholism.

“I know,” said Marlene.  She rested her chin on Dorcas’ shoulder, leaning down awkwardly to reach it.  Although she’d never say it out loud, Dorcas liked when she did things like that—especially now.  It made her feel smugly secure in her own relationship: whatever problems they were facing in the future, at least they weren’t that.

As they watched, Remus turned to leave, but Sirius caught his arm and yanked him back around, face fierce.

“Proof, I suppose,” Dorcas said, “that shagging doesn’t solve everyone’s problems.”  She knocked back her drink, swirling it around to rid herself of the bad taste in her mouth.  She was about to ask Marlene to dance again, when someone gripped her elbow, hard, from behind.

“Merlin, Alice—you scared the shit out of me!  What the hell are you thinking, sneaking up—”

Alice cut her off—Alice interrupting someone was already enough of a surprise to make both Dorcas and Marlene shut up and listen, but whatever tone Alice was speaking in… it wasn’t one they’d ever heard her use before.

“Marlene, Dorcas, we all need to leave.  Don’t worry about getting anyone else—Frank and I will do that.  You two just need to finish your drinks and head directly outside.  Don’t speak to anybody, don’t run, just walk out front like nothing is wrong.  Wait outside, and we’ll meet you there.”  Alice glanced from one shocked face to another.  “Nod if you understand me,” she finished.

Slowly, Dorcas nodded.  She could see Marlene out of the corner of her eye doing the same.

“Good,” said Alice.  “I’ll see you in three minutes.”  Then she was gone.

Robotically, Dorcas set her empty drink down on the bar, her mind blank.  Whatever it was, Alice and Frank would deal with it, she was sure.  She just needed to get Marlene out of there.  Filled with the determination that came from having a purpose, she lifted Marlene’s drink out of her hands, swallowed the dregs, and set it down next to her own empty glass.  Then she pulled her mask back down, letting the horse’s skull disguise the fear she knew was showing on her face.  “Come on, then,” she said to Marlene, gruffly.  “Better do what she says.”

A smile flickered across Marlene’s face, lit up for a brief moment by the lights of the club.  Then she took Dorcas’ hand, squeezing it tightly, and let herself be pulled around the edge of the dance floor toward the exit.

The song changed, and a shriek was sent up from the middle of the floor in response.  It set Dorcas’s nerves jangling, even though she knew it was a scream of fun, and not of terror.  Marlene pulled on her hand.  “That’s Mary.”

Dorcas scanned the crowd, squinting through the jaw of her mask.  There it was—Alice’s telltale hair, weaving through the crowd toward Mary’s red costume.  “Alice’s got her.  We’ll meet them outside.”

They spent what was probably only two torturous minutes outside in the cold alone, being eyed suspiciously by the bouncer, but it felt like an eternity.  By the time Alice and Mary emerged, shortly followed by Frank, Kingsley, and a handful of students not in their house, Dorcas was about thirty seconds from screaming her lungs out.

Mary darted to Marlene’s side, and Marlene released Dorcas’ hand to hug her.  Meanwhile, Alice and Frank turned, doing a rapid scan of the motley group standing in the street.  The same horrible realization dawned on them at the same time that it did Dorcas, their heads turning as one to look back at the entrance to the club.

“Where’s Lily?” Dorcas said.  Her voice felt frozen in the winter air, brittle enough to snap.

Alice and Frank started toward the club door, only to be blocked by the irate bouncer.  “No re-admittance!”  It was only then that the fear they all felt began to take on life, leaping into shape like a beast released into their midst, sending everyone into chaos.

They were arguing with the bouncer, Alice pleading, Frank yelling.  The other kids didn’t know for sure what the problem was, but the fear caught them up as well—one of them started to cry, another tugging on Kingsley’s robes, begging him to let them just leave.  And Dorcas… Dorcas was watching the door, one hand in Marlene’s, the other around Mary’s shoulders, waiting, hoping against hope to see Lily’s vivid hair emerge from the dark.  That was how she was the first to see the flames.

Chapter Text

20:30  March 20^th 1977

The auror office, like all offices, had bright, glaring lighting that grew increasingly grim and headache-inducing as the daylight faded.  Mad-eye Moody, with his enhanced eye, was especially sensitive to this, and late evenings in the office frayed his already short temper.  He usually preferred to finish up any pressing paperwork at a pub, where a man could get a hot meal to go with his assaults and burglaries.  Tonight, however, he chose to linger, even after more junior members of his team packed up and left.  He was waiting for someone.

The someone took too long, and Moody stalked down the row of cubicles, looking for them.  He brought with him his cane, which he banged threateningly against the desks as he passed.  The cane was a new addition—his healer had insisted on it.  “Mad-eye,” she’d said, “if you’re not more careful, you could be looking at an early retirement.  The new knee won’t last if you don’t treat it properly, give it some time to heal.”

Moody scoffed.  He’d responded to her warning the same way he always did.  “I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again.  Rather you just take the whole bloody thing off than retire—especially now.”  He brought the cane everywhere with him anyway.  The stupidest thing to do at a time like this would be to drag out his recovery, and while he might be a stubborn old man, he wasn’t stupid.  There was a storm coming, and he would be damned if he let these fool kids face it on their own.

Speaking of fool kids…  “PREWETTS!” he bellowed.  There was the distinctive noise of someone falling off of their chair.  Moody allowed himself a single chuckle at their expense before his face returned to its usual scowl.

A head popped up from behind a cubicle, then, moments later, a second one peered around the edge of the desk, its owner clearly still on the floor.  “You called, sir?”

“Come on, idjits—up and at ‘em.  We’re going for a drink.”

Firmly ensconced in his favorite booth, his hand wrapped around a cold pint, Moody felt his headache begin to recede.  He gave a slow scan of the area with his enhanced eye, but he spotted no people close to them, and no spells out of place.  He set the eye to a regular rotation, to ensure things stayed as private as they currently were, and took a long gulp of his drink.  His other eye might not have been magical, but the stare it fixed on the two men across from him was no less intimidating.

Merlin, but they were young.  Worse—they were green.  Barely trained and untested.  It was bad enough that the Ministry was rushing graduation from the auror academy, but if they weren’t going to put that manpower to any sort of use, then what was the point?  Well, Moody would put it to use.  He’d done it before, and he would do it again.  These two might be green, but they were smart, and loyal, and ferocious fighters when paired together.  They’d have to do.

“Do you two know why I asked you to join me tonight?”

“Um,” said one, looking nervous.  “Because that’s what friends do?”  Okay, so maybe they weren’t all that smart.

“Because,” said Moody, glowering at them significantly, “now we’re off duty.  Can you think of a reason why I would want us to be off duty for this conversation?”

An electric pulse seemed to jump between the two of them, bringing them forward eagerly in their seats.  “Is this about the order—”

“Shh—” snapped Moody, cutting them off.  “And it’s not.  Not exactly.  The Phoenix isn’t to be involved in this mission.  But I’ve got a hunch, and what do I always say about hunches?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t follow it,” they chorused obediently.

“So that’s what you two will be doing tonight.  Following my hunch.  I think there might be trouble, and if there is… then you know what I expect of you both.”

They nodded in unison, red hair flopping over their foreheads.  So young…

“Sir,” ventured one, after a moment had passed with Moody still sunk deep in thought.  “Where will we be going?”

Moody cracked a grin—one that was missing a few teeth.  “You boys are in for a treat.  Hope you have costumes…”

21:30  March 20^th 1977

All over the school, students were putting on costumes and make-up, sneaking sips of firewhiskey, and dancing to music in a flurry of excitement and conversation.  But under the lake, the mood was somber.  The little light that reached them during the day had faded and been replaced by torches, which turned the rooms into a mass of shadows, shifting as the flames guttered and flared.

Narcissa stood at the doorway of the boys dorms, watching them step into their costumes.  They hadn’t noticed her yet—she could be silent as a cat when she wanted to be.  It was Snape who first paused in the act of picking up his robes, stiffened, and whipped around to catch her watching.  She would never have been so unladylike as to smirk, but it seemed like the right time to allow the faintest of superior smiles to float across her face.

Her point, as subtle as it was, drove home, and he flushed, the blotchy red color traveling down his bare chest.  “Get out,” he snarled.  His words drew the attention of the other boys, and they startled like frightened deer at the sight of her, pulling their robes defensively over themselves.

“What are you doing here?” snapped Mulciber.  The only one who was completely dressed, he was able to maintain a level of composure that Travers and Snape did not possess.

She let her gaze travel coolly, dismissively across them before she spoke.  “I’m here to deliver new orders.”

“Rubbish,” snapped Snape, his anger leading him to speak over Mulciber, their ostensible leader.  “We all know that Malfoy doesn’t want you involved—and you claim he’s giving you orders now?”

Narcissa looked condescendingly down her nose at him.  It was times like this that she really valued her height—taller than both of her sisters, and more than a few men.  “You forget who I am.  Do you really think I would need to go through Malfoy to hear the Dark Lord’s wishes?”

Snape looked as though he would continue to argue, but Mulciber held out a hand, cutting him off.  “Alright then, Black.  What’s the word?”

She felt a cold, clear triumph ringing through her, as if she was a bell, not a girl.  “There’s a new target they want added tonight: the mudblood Lily Evans.”

22:00  March 20^th 1977

The night was dark, but the faint moonlight was enough to see by.  Bellatrix stood in the darkness of the field, feeling a thrill strong enough to keep away the cold.  It was how she always felt, before a fight.

“Bella.”  Malfoy had apparated behind her and spoke with the slightest inflection of surprise.  “Why have you come here?  I had understood I was to work alone.”

Bellatrix lowered her gaze from the moon to spare a glance for Malfoy.  “My youngest sister—a good, devoted Black—has written to me many times with concerns over the loyalty of one of the young students you recruited.  Concerns that she has tried to express before, but which have been dismissed.  My lord,” she caressed the words, “believes her concerns to have merit.”

“And?” his voice still took that cool, slightly condescending tone.  It rankled, to hear him speak so.  The Malfoy’s might have been well off, even well respected, but for sheer power there was nothing to match the Blacks.  He might have been marrying into the family, but only to a younger daughter.  He would never reach her level.

Her irritation slipped out in her voice.  “And, I am to attend tonight, in your place.  I will test this young man in ways that you cannot—”  She should have spoken more cautiously.  Whatever her personal feelings toward Malfoy, her master clearly trusted him, valued his opinion.  He would not appreciate her wounding Malfoy’s pride in the process of taking over his project.

But to her surprise, Malfoy did not appear to be angry.  Then, of course, he always was soft. “You may have a point.  After all, my relationship with these young men has been that of a mentor—stern, but instructive.  For the sake of preserving that relationship, and the trust that they have toward me, perhaps it would be better to allow another person to test their loyalties so obviously.  I look forward to working more closely with someone so soon to be my sister…”

He smiled at her gently.  “But remember.  The Dark Lord is entrusting this task to you, now.  If it seems for even a moment that these children might fail, or falter, then you know what must be done.  This dirty place will be reminded of what our history and our traditions demand of us.”

23:05  March 20^th 1977

Sirius Black sat alone in the Gryffindor sixth year boys dorms.  It was a double edged sword, being back here, but whenever it was empty he couldn’t help himself, drawn toward it like a moth to a flame.  He wouldn’t let himself sit on his old bed—that seemed a liberty too great—so instead he sat by the window with a lit kretek.

He opened the window to let out the smoke, but it wasn’t a perfect solution.  Sirius smiled, looking at the cigarette in his hand; the smoke curling off of it and out the window, but the distinctive clove smell lingering.  He took a perverse pleasure in thinking that there might be this subtle evidence of his presence leftover, unable to be removed.  Close on the heels of that thought came the guilt, and he angrily ground the kretek out on the stone and flicked the butt through the open window.

Sirius turned his attention to the letter on his lap.  It didn’t have a return address, but he didn’t need one to know that it was from Andromeda.  She preferred to seal her letters by folding them into complicated, origami-style paper puzzles, so that any attempt to open them by a person who didn’t know the trick would damage or tear the paper, leaving obvious evidence of tampering.  She had taught Sirius over one dull family holiday when he was around nine, and ever since their letters had been a game of competing intricacy and design.  Or they used to be.

Andy writing at all was unusual enough to make him apprehensive.  She’d only written to him once since he’d left home, a rushed note on a scrap of parchment (still impeccably folded of course), attached to an owl he didn’t recognize.  All it had said was that if he ever needed help he could come to her, but that otherwise the wisest course of action would be for them not to speak.  For her to break that rule now…

Steeling himself, he pressed in, then pulled, then turned—she was using a familiar pattern, one of the first ones she’d taught him.  The letter unfurled in his lap, a single long sheet, absent any greeting or closing.  The writing was close together, and blotted in a way that was unlike his precise, deliberate cousin.  She must have been in a terrible rush.

He squinted at it, straining to make out her words in the faint light.  Before he’d reached the bottom of the page he was on his feet.  The letter dropped to the floor, unfinished, while Sirius dove under one of the beds to retrieve a large, silvery cloak.  Then he was out the door and down the stairs, running flat out toward the passage that would take him to Hogsmeade.

23:46  March 20^th 1977

The boys, in identical masks and dark robes, crept through the festive crowd like rats along a wall, skulking in shadows and hiding themselves in corners.  They were looking for their targets—young muggleborns, foolish enough to think themselves welcome to play among sacred wizarding rites.  Most of them projected a sense of grim determination, even an eagerness to succeed, but one… Bellatrix could taste it in the air, his hesitation, his lack of resolve.  Her sister had been right—Snape was a weak link.

He looked up and met her gaze, as if he had sensed her watching him.  She smiled.  She would enjoy crushing that weakness before he made it any closer to her master.

The song changed, the lights shifted.  A scream of delight went up from the dance floor, pulling Bellatrix’s eyes off of Snape, and to the crowd.  Something was strange about the music… something…

“It’s a muggle song,” came a voice next to her ear.  She turned her head, affronted at having been addressed, and then surprised to see that it was Snape who was speaking to her.  When had he moved from the floor to her side?

He wasn’t looking at her, instead looking out at the crowd with an expression of disgust on his face that couldn’t be anything other than heartfelt.

As his words sank in, Bellatrix felt a burning, terrible rage building inside her, focusing on the stage and the band in front of her.  Her master would come, and he would cleanse this place with fire.  Hadn’t she known, when she was standing under the moon on this equinox night, that it was a night for bloodshed?

23:51  March 20^th 1977

Lily raised her head, sucking in a desperate breath that brought no air to her lungs.  She clawed at her throat in sheer animal panic before she remembered her mask—it had been knocked down and was covering her nose and mouth.  She tore it off, not a moment too soon.  Lightheaded, she gasped for air and found it chalky with dust.  Before her lungs had their fill she forced herself to move, crawling across the floor, head down, desperately searching for the hands she had been holding not even a minute before.

One moment, she had been dancing with James to the ABBA song he’d somehow convinced the band to play.  She hadn’t seen it coming at all.  She’d been too busy laughing, letting James twirl her around in an approximation of the steps she’d taught him on the quidditch stands, months ago.  There had been something expanding inside of her chest, making everything seem floaty and exciting.  He’d dipped her until her head almost touched the floor, the whole room turned nonsensically upside-down.  And then… There’d been a woman’s voice over the chorus, screaming.  Filth!  Desecration!  And then the world had exploded.

Lily crept toward the stage—toward where the stage had been.  It was caved in, sagging toward the floor on one side, and on the other torn away from the wall entirely, leaving a gaping hole.  That must have been the blast that knocked her backward, ripping James out of her hands.

Around her, people were running, screaming and falling, but they all seemed far away, nothing more than background noise.  The disco lights were swinging around the room, casting distorted shadows and warping everything they touched.  But at least she could see.

Even if what she saw made her wish for the darkness to return.  Spread across the stage was a person, a man, with dark hair and a shiny costume.  Someone lying very still.

Lily faltered, but only for a moment.  Then she forced herself to keep moving, first her right hand, then her left, and then she was pulling herself toward the stage, slowly but surely.  Even if it was him—and she couldn’t be certain that it was—she couldn’t leave him there.  If it was him…

As she pushed through the rubble, her hand brushed against something that wasn’t a shattered piece of stage, a dropped drink, or a lost shoe.  Something warm.  The sensation was shocking enough to pull her eyes away from the unmoving body above her.  When she looked down, James Potter’s brown, callused hand was sticking out of the wreckage.

She knew it was his, as sure as she’d known that it was him wearing armor on stage earlier that night.  The intensity of her relief knocked her down to her elbows, but before she could steel herself to follow his hand up his arm and look for the rest of him, a woman jumped up on the stage.

The boards creaked beneath her, but the woman payed them no mind, surveying the chaos of the room with a regal air.  She raised her arms, slowly and deliberately, and pressed two fingers to her own bare forearm.  Lily tensed.  Nothing seemed to have happened, but the woman let out a low, triumphant laugh.  It built until it was ringing in her ears, making her blood throb inside her skull.

Lily, eyes still fixed on the threat, moved one hand slowly forward until it brushed James’ fingers.  She’d never been so cold and still—ice right down to the heart of her, the heat of his fingers against hers the only thing she could feel.  Carefully, without breathing, she slipped her fingers along his hand, feeling for his wrist.

As she watched, the woman stepped forward to the body on the stage and pushed him with her foot, as casually as one might push aside a piece of trash from a park bench.  The man (one of the musicians, his broken guitar still in his hand) rolled limply over, sliding slowly down to land on the floor, neck at a crooked angle.  There was no way to hear the impact over the yelling, running people, but Lily still flinched when he hit the floor.

The flinch was a mistake.  Something about the motion drew the woman’s eye, and she turned toward Lily, where she crouched on the ground at the base of the stage.  The woman was unmasked, and for a moment, it was Sirius’ beautiful face that stared back at her from the stage, framed by waves of dark hair.  Then Lily blinked, and recognized her.

Bellatrix Black was as like her cousin as if they had been twins, but she filled Lily with a terror that Sirius had never inspired.  Her dark eyes burned with a feverish intensity, boring into Lily’s.  She felt like a mouse pinned by the gaze of a hawk, too frightened to run.

At that moment, her searching fingers found a pulse.

James was alive.

With relief came clarity.  The rest of the room, the dozens of people still trapped, the shouting and flashes of light, all came shuddering back into place around her.  She was still trapped under Bellatrix Black’s terrible gaze, but each beat of James’ heart pushed up her fingers and into her body, filling her with purpose.  She had to get him out of here.

Before she could begin to reason through how exactly she would do that—get herself and James out of the crowds and rubble and past Bellatrix Black, a woman who had exploded the back of the club without even seeming to exert herself—a spell streaked across the room and struck Bellatrix in the shoulder, sending her staggering.

To her right, Lily saw the caster pull himself up along the wall before doubling over, coughing.  He was a young man with red hair, a broken mask obscuring half of his face.  No—it was two men.  The second leaned past the first to follow up with a spell of his own, seeking to press their advantage, but this time Bellatrix was ready.  She deflected their spell, sending it screaming over Lily’s head.  Horrified shouting rose up from behind Lily; the spell had ricocheted right into a group of attendees, and some of them were on the ground.

Taking advantage of Bellatrix’s distraction, Lily scrambled forward, sweeping dust and shattered boards off of James’ body.  There was a lot of blood, but she wasn’t going to think about that.

By the time she cleared his face, her hands were shaking so badly that it took her two tries to get his helmet off.  When it finally came free and his hair spilled out into her hands, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.  Instead she bent her head, eyes squeezed shut, a silent prayer tearing its way out of her chest.  Please… please…

“Evans?  Lily?”  Her eyes flew open.  There he was—his eyes open and fixed on her face, as expressive and alive as ever, full of confusion and concern.  “Lily, are you okay?”

“Am I…”  A helpless laugh bubbled up inside her.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I’m okay.”

He started to raise his arm, but winced and fell back.  “What happened?”

A scream of rage brought their situation crashing back down around Lily.  She snapped her head back up to the fight in a panic.  Bellatrix, her robes smoking, snarled at the two men she was facing like a cornered animal.  “You like fire?  I’ll show you fire!”  She swept her wand down in an arc, and fire rushed forth, forcing the men to leap back. 

It wasn’t like any fire Lily had seen before—it felt almost alive, eager and hungry as it licked up the walls.  She thought she could see creatures in the flames, devouring each other and reaching for more.  The men, cursing, raised their wands, struggling to corral the flames, while Bellatrix, with a laugh, turned and vanished out the gaping hole in the back of the club, trailing fire in her wake.

Lily clasped James’ face between her hands, forcing him to look at her.  He still seemed confused, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that.  “We have to get out of here, now!  Can you walk?”

She could see the effort it was taking him to focus, but he did it, moving one leg, and then the other.  “Yeah.  But you’ll have to help me up.  I can’t feel my arm.”

Lily, swallowing her panic, took his right arm over her shoulder and heaved.  The two of them lurched to their feet, reeling drunkenly in a way that would have been comical in any other situation.  If James’ hand wasn’t clenched so tightly around her shoulder that she was sure it would bruise.  If there hadn’t been blood on his neck.  He swayed into her and she almost fell.

“Sorry—sorry.  I just got dizzy for a minute.  I’m okay, I promise.”

His fingers digging into her shoulder said otherwise, but there wasn’t time to argue.  “Let’s move,” she said.

They staggered forward.  The two men had established a precarious control over the fire, but they were distracted by an argument, and she couldn’t trust that their defense would hold.  Lily caught snatches of their fight as they struggled toward the entrance.

“Call Moody—this is out of control!  He can bring the aurors—”

“It’ll take too bloody long for the patronus to reach him!  You know who we’ve got to call.”

“The phoenix stays OUT of it—those are our orders.  If they catch the old man here the whole organization gets forced out into the open!”

“There are kids here, Gid!  If you think he’d want to sit pretty in his castle, knowing—”

“And that’s exactly why our orders are not to call him.  Call Moody, now.”

The man closest to her looked up and met Lily’s eyes.  He’d removed his mask and his red hair and long nose looked vaguely familiar.  He frowned, then, “Look out!”

Lily cried out—one of the flame beasts had lunged under their guard and had sunk its hungry teeth into her arm.  It was forced back, but her arm was burning, flames spreading through her veins from the point of contact, until she thought her whole arm must be ablaze.  She could hear James shouting, but she couldn’t answer him.  If she opened her mouth, she would scream.

The unmasked man was at her side, yanking her arm up and casting in a long stream of Latin.  Whatever he’d done brought with it a relief so intense that she stumbled into him, almost overbalancing the three of them.

When she could stand, she realized that the pain wasn’t absent—just contained.  The bite was still burning, but it was no longer spreading.  She could move her arm, and even grip her wand.  That would have to be enough.

The man turned to James, using a charm that Lily vaguely recognized as a clotting one.  “You dumb kids have to get moving—we can’t hold this for long.  The whole place is coming down!”  Then he was running back to his partner’s side, taking on the fire again.

Lily turned slowly around, taking in their options.  The front was a mass of panicked people, shoving and screaming as they attempted to exit through the narrow entrance way.  She’d never get James through, not like this.  The back, and the hole that Bellatrix had left through, were awash with flame, and somehow Lily didn’t think that aguamenti would be enough to get them by.  “The bathroom,” she said decisively.  “The girls’ bathroom had a window.  We can climb through that…”  She looked at James, suddenly questioning her decision.  Could he climb?

He gave her a lopsided version of his usual cocky grin.  She could see the tightness in it, the signs of pain that he couldn’t quite mask, but she was grateful for the smile all the same.  “Lead the way, Evans.”

~

Getting James out of the window was not an ordeal she hoped to ever have to repeat.  By the time they were both standing in the alley Lily’s muscles were burning from exertion, and James’ wound had begun bleeding sluggishly again, the red cross on the front of his silver armor obscured by blood.  He propped himself against the wall, face taut and legs shaking, while she crept toward the opening of the alley.

Sounds of shouting and faint explosions could be heard from the street, making her cautious.  She cast a mirror spell, one that would allow her to see around the corner.  It seemed as though the fighting had spilled out into the streets of Hogsmeade—everywhere there seemed to be fire, people running.  With so many people still in their terrifying costumes, it was impossible to tell who was friend or foe.  Lily severed her mirror charm with a snap.  The streets were too dangerous—they’d have to cut through the fields.

She turned back to say as much to James, but he wasn’t where she’d left him.  Fear closed around her heart like a fist.  It only took a moment for her to spot him, but that moment was too long.

At first she thought he’d fallen, but then she realized he was bent over, speaking to something lower down.  As she approached, she heard him say, “Peter.  I know it’s you.”  She peered over his shoulder, wondering if she would see Peter lying on the ground, but there was only a large gray rat, cowering in the corner.

If he’d been hit by something… if he’d struck his head…  A yawning terror opened up in her, as she stared at the side of James’ face.  If she had to do this on her own…

“It’s okay,” James continued.  “You can turn back—it’s just me and Lily.  She’ll keep you safe!”

Lily started to reach for him, to shake him and beg him to come back to reality, but a strange twitching seized the rat, stopping her short.  Before her eyes it ballooned outward, James leaning back out of its way, and then it was Peter sitting there in front of her, and not a rat at all.  His blond hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat and there was an anxious, twitchy look on his face.  They looked at each other.

“Okay,” said Lily.

James, completely unsurprised by these events, lifted his good arm to haul Peter forward into an embrace.  “Thank Merlin,” he said.

“Prongs—what are we gonna do!”

Lily spoke up.  Whatever explanation there was for all this, it obviously had to wait.  “We’ve got to go through the fields.  There’s the passage Sirius showed me—the one behind Zonko’s.  We should be able to get there without being seen, if we’re careful.”

“See,” said James, grinning reassuringly at Peter.  “Lily’s got a plan.”  His face grew serious.  “Peter, have you seen Remus anywhere?  Anyone else?”

“No!” squeaked Peter.  “You’re the first people I’ve seen—”

Lily felt the fist around her heart contract.  Where were Alice, Mary, the countless students they’d snuck out with?  Were they among the people floating down the street right now?  Were they in the burning club still?

The fire—Lily jumped away from the building they were leaning against.  “We have to move!”

Together she and Peter took James’ weight, and they stumbled away from the walls of the club, not a moment too soon.  Flames were soon pouring out of the roof, the building itself shuddering under the hungry beasts.

“Lily,” said James.  His voice was quiet but urgent.  “I need you to help me get my wand.  It’s inside my breastplate.”  She stared at him.  “If you hand it to me, I can hold it in my good hand.  Then we can both be armed, at least.”

As little as she wanted to risk disturbing his wound, she could understand how horrible it would feel to be disarmed at a time like this.  Reluctantly, Lily pried up one side of his breastplate and slid her hand in.

For some reason she’d expected blood to be cold, but instead it was shockingly hot, enough to steam in the March air.  James let out a slow, hissing breath through his teeth.  She was obviously hurting him as she fumbled around—when her searching fingers finally found the wand, it was so slippery with blood that it took her three tries to pull it out.  She wiped it, clumsily, on Marlene’s brother’s robes, before handing it back to James.  His hand, when he took it from her, was like ice, as if the only part of him that was warm was the blood slowly pooling in his armor.

“You’re still bleeding,” she said.

“Peter can do a clotting charm.  Go on, then, Petey.  Help me out…”

Peter, against expectations, pulled himself together, performing a clotting charm with the ease of someone who’d done it dozens of times.  “I’ve never done it on something so big, before,” he said, anxiety lacing his voice.  “I don’t know…”

“But I know.  I know you did a great job, Wormtail.  I can feel how much better it is already.”

Peter’s nerves seemed bolstered by this vote of confidence, but he added to Lily, “We need to be gentle with him.  Clotting charms can fail if the patient is jostled too much, or tries to move too quickly.”

Lily nodded seriously.  “You should transform again if you can,” she said to Peter.  “You’ll be hidden better.”

James started to protest, but Lily cut him off.  “I can help you walk—you’re not that heavy.  It’ll be harder to see two people than three.  It’ll be safer for all of us.”

Nodding, Peter shrank back into his rat form.  The nod carried over—Lily watched the rat bob its head a few more times, mesmerized.

“You should take my armor off,” said James.  “I’ll be lighter without it.”

“Don’t worry, Potter.  You’re skinny enough for me to drag through a field, if it comes to it.”

He gave a noiseless laugh.  “Now really doesn’t seem like the time to mock a man for his flat arse, Lily Evans.”

She wanted to match his lighthearted air, but she couldn’t manage it.  “I don’t want to take it off.  I’m worried…”

“What, that it’s holding me together?”  He sounded so convincingly like himself that she couldn’t help but smile back at him, even through the fear.  Lily shook off thoughts of their other friends, and of the men who had helped them escape.  Speculation would only slow her down.

~

The walk through the fields was interminable.  They went in total darkness, with only the shifting moonlight to see by.  Peter, she hoped, was somewhere at their feet, but he was impossible to see.  James’ arm over her shoulder and his ragged breath in her ear were the only things she felt certain were real.  She thought she could feel him flagging, his feet moving more slowly as time passed, but she told herself that it was just her imagination making the situation worse than it was.  Occasionally, there would be bursts of light from the village streets to their right, and each time she froze, terrified that they would be spotted, but no one looked their way.  When she finally saw the Zonko’s shed up ahead of them she could have cried with relief.  Peter rose out of the shadows at her feet to push open the door, and together the three of them stumbled inside.

Lily reacted to the presence of someone else in the shed before she consciously realized what had spooked her.  Her wand flew up, a silent shield charm expanding in front of them, stopping Peter in his tracks.  “Nice one, Evans,” she heard James mouth into her hair.

In the faint glow of the charm, she scanned the room, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else there.  Only a large black dog—hackles raised and growling at them.  That must have been the noise that startled her.  Breathing out, Lily released the shield, sending a light to hover near the roof of the storage shed in its place.  In this light, she saw the dog hunch its back strangely, then shift.

As she stared, the fur melted away, the snout shifted, and Sirius Black stood where the dog had been.  Behind him, Remus appeared as if out of thin air, holding something bunched in one fist.  “James—” he choked out.  James raised his head, and then they were all falling toward each other, caught up in a heady rush of relief.

She didn’t know how long the five of them stood there, wrapped around each other.  For her part, she had such a tight grip on the back of Sirius’ jacket that she thought she might tear it, and her face was crushed against Remus’ chest.  She only let go when she felt James, still draped over her shoulder, start to sway.

Over Sirius’ panicked shouts, she and Peter lowered James to the ground.  In the light of her charm she could see his face clearly for the first time, and it terrified her.  He was sweating, and his eyes were unfocused.  Peter was moving over him, unbuckling the armor he still wore, and when the breastplate came loose a rush of blood poured out of it, across her hands and onto the ground.  It was clear now that something, probably torn loose in the explosion, had caught him in the side and was still lodged there.  How she hadn’t noticed it before…

Peter reached for it, but Sirius stopped him.  “No—don’t touch it!  Leave it in him, remember?  It’s blocking the blood.”

Peter flung himself backward, as though he couldn’t be trusted near the wound.  “I tried to clot it, but it’s so much blood!”

James turned his head, focusing on Peter with an effort.  “Not your fault, Petey.  You did a great job.  Best any of us could have done…”

He’s so cold,” muttered Remus, who was trying to find a pulse in James’ other hand.  “It’s too much blood…”

“He needs a blood-replenishing charm,” said Sirius.  “Peter, can you—”

“No!  No, I don’t know how.  We never needed one!”

Lily spoke, for the first time since she’d helped Peter pull away James’ armor.  “I can do a blood-replenishing charm.”

She pulled her eyes away from James’ bloody side and back to his face, bringing one hand up to cradle his head, helping brace it where it swayed weakly on his neck.  His skin was clammy and his pulse raced under her fingers.

“I can do it,” she said, making her voice sound firm and confident.  “Mary used to make me do them for her every month… she thought her period would make her anemic…”  She knew she was over-sharing, but looking at James’ sweaty, drawn face was even harder than looking at the dark spear of wood in his chest.

A hand gripped her shoulder.  She glanced behind her to see Sirius, who looked young and frightened.  It wasn’t an emotion she’d known he could feel before tonight.  She nodded at him, trying to project an assuredness that she did not feel.  “Okay, James, ready?  Novocruor.”

The entire space of time that the spell lasted, she didn’t look away from James’ face, watching to see the gray tint fade from around his lips, and the warm healthy color return.  It was his eyes, however, that told her when she’d done enough—they focused on her again, bright and clear.  With a gasp, she released the charm.

She left her hand on his cheek for longer than she’d meant to.  She’d just wanted to feel the warmth, the aliveness of his skin for a moment longer before she let him go, but he raised his hand and pressed it over hers, holding her there.  “Thank you,” he said, almost too quiet to hear.

“Right,” said Remus.  “We need to get moving, now—”   It must have been the same relief that she felt moving through all of them that made his voice so loud.  Behind her, Sirius’ grip on her shoulder eased.  She felt him pat her clumsily on the side of the head, hand catching in her curls, before he let go.

Sirius and Remus, moving in unison, began to try to help James up off of the floor without jostling either his arm or the wood in his side, while Peter stepped to Lily and pulled her to her feet.  Once up, she linked her arm through his and they leaned on each other.  She could feel the burn on her arm again, throbbing in time with her pulse, and underneath it her body was beginning to make known a litany of smaller hurts that had gone unnoticed until now.  She was exhausted, but safety and an end to this terrible night were close at hand.  All they had to do was make it through the tunnel and back to the castle, and then the teachers would take over.

Outside the shed, she heard screaming begin in the distance.  It rose and fell, terrified.  Unthinkingly, she turned her head toward it, as though she might be able to see through the walls to whoever the frightened person was.  It had sounded distant at first, but as it continued she felt it digging into her, corkscrewing through her skull and into her brain, impossible to ignore.  Someone was out there—someone desperate.

“Stop.”  It was James’ voice, forceful and clear.  She looked at him in confusion, but he wasn’t speaking to her.  He was talking to Sirius and Remus, who were supporting him.  “Put me back down—don’t you hear that?  We have to go get them!  We have to go get them and bring them out with us!”

~

It only took a moment for Remus to realize what James meant, and Sirius wasn’t far behind him.  United for once, they were arguing with James furiously, while Peter, an edge of panic in his voice, was begging him to see reason.

“You’re a bloody fool, Prongs, you know that right?  You’re bleeding out all over this floor—and you want to hang around and give the bastards another shot at you?”

“I get that you want to help, but wouldn’t it be more help if we went and, I don’t know, got Dumbledore?  As in, back up at the castle?  You’re insane if you think you’re in any state to go back out and fight a hoard of maniacs—”

“Please, Prongs, please, let’s go get the teachers—I know Lily and I fixed you up but it might not hold!  And I don’t know anything that we can do!”

None of these arguments made any impression on James.  He had a dogged, immovable expression on his face, and for all that he could barely stand up, it was clear that nothing his friends said or did would change his mind.

“Look,” he said.  “I’m fine now.  Or, I’m stable, at least.  Lily and Wormtail saw to that.  But whoever they are—” he gestured out the window with his good arm, a jerky, pained movement that did not escape anyone’s notice, “they’re not fine.  They’re in danger, right now!  And here we are, huddled around our secret way out, and…”

He looked around at all of them, in the circle they’d formed.  “I’m not saying we can go out there and fight all of them, and drive them off, and save the day.  But someone is in trouble, and we could do something about it!  If we could help even one person… we have to do everything we can.”

Inside of Lily, quiet enough that she didn’t even notice it, something shifted into place.

“He’s right,” she said.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter’s heads all swiveled toward her, expressions of shock and betrayal on their faces.  “By the time we get up to the castle, anything could have happened.  We have to do this ourselves.”  Silence followed.

Speaking more quickly, Lily began trying to persuade them.  Whoever it was who had been screaming outside was silent now, but the noise and chaos was growing closer, sending her adrenaline skyrocketing again.  “We can go now, quickly, and see who else we can find—and by we, I don’t mean you, James.  You can’t even stand up!  The rest of us will go, we’ll try to grab any students or civilians we see.  Then we get back, and we all go up to the castle together.”

The other boys still didn’t reply, but James was looking at her with a gratitude so deep it felt like something more.

“Fuck!”  The hoarse shout came from Remus, shocking all of them.  He kicked out savagely at James’ empty breastplate, sending it clanging across the floor.  Chest heaving, Remus turned back to James.  “Fine.  Fine.  You’re a pair of noble idiots.  But James stays—do you hear me, you bloody fool?”

James sagged against the wall like it had taken all of his strength to get this far.  “No one’s arguing with you, Moony.  You’re the boss.”  Groaning, he allowed Peter and Remus to lower him back to the floor.  “Cheers, mate—I’ll just wait here for you all, shall I?”  His flippant tone wasn’t fooling anyone, but Lily appreciated the effort at normalcy.  It helped stave off the panic rising at the thought of what she’d persuaded them all to risk.

“Right.”  Remus’ voice had taken on a new authority, and the other boys responded to it.  It was clear that he, and not Sirius, was the second-in-command in their oddly formal little hierarchy.  “The time is now—” he checked his watch, “five to one.”  It didn’t feel like five to one.  It felt like years had passed, and not an hour or so, since she and James had been dancing.

“The plan is to go out and return with any other civilians we can locate.  Prongs will stay here, with the cloak, so that he can hide himself if need be.”  James started to protest, but Remus quelled him with a single look.  “The rest of us can either transform, or are fast runners.  Isn’t that right, Lily?”

She nodded vigorously.  “I’m very fast.”

“Someone has to stay with Prongs,” said Sirius.  His face was very pale.  “If they find him, or if he takes a turn for the worse again…”

Remus nodded, looking to Lily first, a considering expression on his face.  “Wormtail,” he said, finally.  “You stay.”  Peter, weak with relief, sank back down next to James.

“We three will go out and return in half an hour, with or without anyone else.  If we are not back by the established time, Wormtail and Prongs will begin to travel back through the passage without us.”  None of them could bring themselves to suggest the obvious solution, which was to have Peter and James begin the journey back up the passage now.  The idea of splitting up was hard enough as it was.

“In the castle, Wormtail will bring Prongs to the infirmary first, and sound the alarm via Madame Pomfrey.  The time is now… o-fifty-eight.  Check time.”  All four boys glanced down at their wrists, nodding agreement over the time they saw.  Lily, whose watch had been lost on the quidditch pitch by Marlene months ago, was at a loss.  James jerked his head at Peter, who wordlessly slipped off his own watch and handed it to Lily.  She fastened it around her wrist where it hung, loose and heavy, against her hand.

James looked up at them from where he lay, bloody and disheveled, on the ground.  With his grave look, and the pieces of armor he was still wearing, he looked like a young king.  He raised one gauntleted fist to his chest, and the rest followed suit.  “Marauders’ honor,” they chorused.

He grinned, like a flash of light in the dark shed.  “See you at one twenty-eight.”

Chapter Text

As the shed door closed behind them, Lily felt completely alone, small and naked and defenseless under a moon that beat down on her like a terrible eye.  But Sirius stepped forward to her right side and Remus to her left, steady and resolute, and together they crept forward to the edge of the street.  They huddled in the alley beside Zonko’s Joke Shop, and Lily wordlessly cast the charm to let them see around the corner to the front.

The front was total madness, fire dancing from building to building along the street, sending people screaming out of their burning houses.  Once in the street, they were trapped between the flames and the men in masks, who drove them back toward the buildings.  As they watched, the masked men assembled into some sort of formation, moving slowly but inexorably down the center of the road.  They pulled one, then two, then more people into the air to float like macabre puppets, limbs twitching unnaturally as they were thrown from side to side.

They watched the grotesque parade move slowly past.  Lily knew she was too far and the village too loud for them to be heard, but she couldn’t help holding her breath.

She angled the charm away from the marchers, scanning the suddenly dark and quiet street.  There—directly across from them, there was a frightened face peering around the corner of a shop.  She nudged Remus, then Sirius, making sure they saw her too, before she broke off the spell with a snap.

She leaned her back against the solid wall of Zonko’s, the last barrier between them and the insanity of the street, and looked up at the stars. 

“I hope you’re as fast as you said you were,” said Remus, his voice darkly humorous.

“I am,” said Lily.  That much, at least, she was sure of.  “I used to beat Petunia all the time, and she ran for the county…”

Sirius gave a chuckle, equally dark.  “Speak for yourself—Moony runs like a little old lady and everyone knows it.”

Remus’ lip quirked up on one side, illuminated in the moonlight.  He caught Lily’s eye.  “So.  Once more onto the breach?”  She knew it meant, I’m glad you’re here.

“I’m not doing anything for England or Harry,” she said, shakily.

“For Saint George, then,” said Remus.*

She squeezed his hand, once, then raised her wand.  “For Saint George,” she replied.  Then they were darting out into the street.

~

Lily didn’t let herself run full out, despite the adrenaline nipping at her heels.  Instead, she focused on moving silently over swiftly, knowing that whether they succeeded or failed was dependent on remaining unnoticed by the savage crowd just a few meters down the road.  Before she knew it, they were across, and slipping into the shadows of the building.

“Hello?” she called softly, stepping forward with her hands raised.

“Lily,” said Remus, his voice tight with warning.  “Don’t—”

A jet of light flew toward her, and Lily realized two things just a moment too late.  First: that the panicked person hiding here must have shot blindly, without realizing that she was there to help.  And second: with her hands up, and her wand pointed toward the sky, there was no way she would be able to get a shield up in time.  She braced herself for whatever the curse might be, but then Sirius was there, like he always seemed to be.

He shoved her to the side and made a strange, pulling motion with his wand hand.  The spell swerved toward him, sucked into the tip of his wand and absorbed.  The small part of Lily that could think further than tonight made a note of this, to ask him about later.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” she called.  “We’re students from Hogwarts—my name is Lily Evans.”  There was no response, but no more spells were cast, which she took as an encouraging sign.  Beside her, Remus and Sirius were tense, their own wands held in front of her at the ready.  “We can help you get up to the castle, if you want.  You’ll be safe there.”

The silence dragged out, then, “Remus Lupin?  Sirius Black?”  A girl—a student by the looks of her—stepped forward from behind the rubbish bins.  “It is you!  I’m Miranda—I’m in Ravenclaw.”

So that made one.  For a selfish moment, Lily wondered if one was enough.

“Have you seen anyone else, Miranda?” Remus asked gently.

“No!  I came with my friend, but we got separated—I’m not as fast as she is.  Her name’s Ellie—have you guys seen her?”  She was looking desperately up at Remus’ face, and when she saw the obvious there, she started to cry.  Loudly.

“Shut her up,” said Sirius, glancing over his shoulder back out to the street.  Remus, rolling his eyes, cast muffliato and began to pat Miranda on the shoulder awkwardly.

“Where were you trying to go?” asked Lily.  “Maybe we can find her there?”

Miranda only looked at her blankly.  It was clear that they had just been running blind, no thought but ‘away.’

“Right,” said Remus.  “I’m sure she was smart enough not to run out into the street.  Let’s keep moving behind the houses, see who else is hiding.”

It was a complicated task, to avoid the attention of the street, but still call out to other students who might be hiding, unsure if Lily and their group were friend or foe.  They would take a few steps and then cast muffliato against the street, calling to anyone who might be within a few meters of them.  Progress like that was so painfully slow that Lily could feel it picking away at her taut nerves, shredding them.

“This is bloody idiocy,” muttered Sirius in her ear.  “Wait—Moony, hold up!  I have a better idea.  Homenum revelio!”

The scene looked, momentarily, like an infrared shot in a spy movie.  She could see the inside of the houses, the figures moving around inside of them, and the chaos on the street behind them.

“Great job, dickhead,” said Remus, the anxiety of the moment making him more blunt than usual.  “In case you forgot, people can tell if that spell is being cast on them!  Now we’ve got to run—fast—before they figure out where it came from, and all we learned was that there are people inside of these houses…”

“Wait,” said Lily.  She was still blinking the afterimage of the spell away from her eyes, but she thought, maybe…  “Down there—two houses down.  There’s someone not inside.”

They ran as silently as they could down to where she’d pointed, Lily pulling Miranda by the hand (she really wasn’t very fast).  Before they’d even reached the building, she was calling,  “Ellie?  Ellie, it’s me!  We came to get you…”

Another student who looked no more than fifteen crept out of a doorway and grabbed onto her friend’s arm, looking warily around the group.

Remus’ patience was obviously wearing thin.  “Let’s go,” he said.  They ran again, back up the row of houses the other way.  This time Ellie, still holding Miranda’s other hand, helped Lily to pull her along.  Remus led the way, and Sirius was a constant, comforting presence at her back.

The last people they found were a young couple in their twenties.  They were lying flat on the roof of one of the houses, a surprisingly inventive hiding place, and one that would have meant that they would never have been found if the fires hadn’t continued to spread, threatening their hideout.  The man jumped down right at Lily’s feet, and she almost took his head off.

“Is it alright?”  The man spoke with a slight burr—possibly local, then.  “Will they let us into the castle?”

“Of course,” said Lily firmly.  They would have to.

“Lily,” said Sirius, warning.

Remus finished the thought for him.  “It’s almost one-twenty-five.”

“We have to move quickly,” said Lily.  “There’s a tunnel that goes to the castle near here, but we’ll have to cross the street.  We can’t risk being seen.”  She raised her wand again, and the couple flinched back, the man raising one hand defensively across his girlfriend’s body.  “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said patiently.  “I’m just going to put a disillusionment charm on you all.  That way it’s harder for them to see you.”

The two teenagers stepped under her wand without hesitation.  They might not know each other, but being a fellow student was enough.  Lily disillusioned them quickly.  It wasn’t her finest work, but she was tired, and it was dark enough to make even half as good a disillusionment effective.  Last was the couple, who didn’t let go of each other’s hands.  Lily had to stand on her toes to reach the top of the man’s head, even as he ducked it obligingly.

“Right.” She said, looking around at a group of people that she couldn’t even see most of.  “We’ll check that the coast is clear, then we’ll move across the street.  We can’t see all of you, so I need everyone to line up and hold hands.”

There was an odd rippling along the wall, which she thought was the disillusioned people getting into line with Remus at the front and Sirius at the back.  She directed an encouraging smile toward where she guessed the youngest girl was standing.  “Don’t look at the crowd—we’ll worry about that.  Just focus on the person in front of you.  If you get separated, find one of us—we’ll be staying visible.”

“Everyone ready?”  There was a whispered chorus of ‘yeses,’ allowing Lily to slip to the front of the line and cast her mirror spell.  She and Remus peered into it, looking around the dark street.  The crowd had stopped four or five buildings down from them, and were standing in a loose circle, facing another, much taller man.  Lily blinked.  Of course he wasn’t taller—he was standing on the steps.

There was something mesmerizing about him.  Frightening, but still hypnotic.  Even from too far away to hear what he was saying, she found herself staring, transfixed, as the effect of his words rippled across the group.

“All clear,” said Remus.  Lily nodded, and he began to move the strange procession single-file out of the alley and across the sidewalk.  She stayed where she was, holding her mirror charm focused on the menacing crowd, watching for any sign that they’d been noticed, until Sirius snagged her wrist as he passed, breaking her spell.  She fell into step behind him, creeping slowly and silently into the street.

A strange chanting started up, raising the hair on the back of her neck.  Without meaning to, she felt her eyes pulled away from Sirius’ back, and toward the crowd.  It wasn’t as big a crowd as it felt like—probably no more than twenty people—but it was enough for the chanting to echo in her ears.  She felt the energy of the people shift, a new anger building among them.  For the first time, she could hear the voice of the speaker, raised high and clear over the crowd.

“They want an equinox?  A true, wizard equinox?  Then we will give them one to remember!”

Beside her, Sirius tensed, as if he knew what was to come.  He dropped the hand of the girl in front of him and grabbed for Lily, pulling her around so that she was facing him, and not the crowd on the street, but he was too late.  Before her eyes, one of the floating people burst into flame.  The crowd beneath them roared their approval, almost—but not quite—drowning out the screams.

“Lily—Lily!”  Sirius was saying urgently.  “Look at me.  Don’t watch.”  His face swam before her eyes, the split second glimpse she’d had of the burning woman hovering between them like a sunspot, obscuring him from her sight.  Fear had so far made her move, made her sharp, but with this… she could feel her head slipping underwater.  “Lily, please.”

“What’s going on?” came the panicked voice of one of the girls.  “Sirius?  Where did you go?”

Lily clenched her fist, feeling the familiar ridges of her wand bite into her hand.  Bit by bit, Sirius’ strained face came back into focus.  She nodded, once.

“Sirius?  Lily?  Sirius!”  That was Remus’ voice, now, as superficially controlled as ever, but with a razor edge to it that someone who knew him well could recognize as fear.

“We’re here,” Lily forced out.  “We’re right behind you—be quiet and keep moving.”

They were so close to the cover of Zonko’s—Remus had reached it, and the rest of the group was trailing behind him—when she heard the crackle of spells break out again.  A surge of adrenaline whipped her around, wand drawn.  For a horrible moment, she thought they’d been spotted, but the actual target was several meters in front of her.

It was the two men who had been in the club, fighting Bellatrix’s fire.  They were standing shoulder to shoulder in the street, dueling close to twenty other people, fighting like nothing Lily had ever seen before.  One would fire, the other would cover with shield or deflection, and once even the catch and absorb trick that Lily had seen Sirius do that very night.

It couldn’t last, not against so many.  Within seconds, one of them missed a beat, forced to the ground to dodge a spell that his partner couldn’t block, and then they took a direct hit, and another, and then the two of them were on their knees in the street.

She could hear their ragged breaths, billowing steam in front of their faces in the cold air.  She felt as though she was watching a movie—like she was trapped on the other side of the screen, screaming at the characters, but helpless to change the outcome.

The man who had been speaking earlier surveyed these two over the heads of his followers.  One burning corpse was suspended in the sky behind him, while two other people, still unburnt, hung limply next to it.  She could see his pale, cruel face, lit up a sickening scarlet by the fires around him.  He frowned, as if disappointed.

“Kill them,” he said, as casually as if he had been asking for a cup of tea.  His followers raised their wands, and the scream that was echoing inside Lily’s head tore loose.

“DON’T!”

Her shout echoed across the frozen street.  Everyone’s heads turned toward her, even the two men on the ground.  The moment granted her by surprise could only last so long, and in it Lily, filled with the courage of desperation, raised her wand and threw her strongest, wordless stunning curse directly at the leader.

He flicked it to the side as though it was nothing, but his face contorted in rage.  As if her spell had broken something loose, shouts and curses began flying once again.  Lily felt herself wrenched backward and she fell, hard, to the ground.  A green bolt of light flew past where her head had been a moment ago, the space that Sirius had pulled her out of.

“Get in the shed, get in the shed,” Remus was yelling up the slope to the others.  She could hear their frantic scrambling and their painful breaths, even if she couldn’t see them.  “Sirius, get her up, get her to the shed—"

“Run!” she shouted to Sirius, shoving at him, but he didn’t run.  Remus, swearing—damn you, damn you—did run, down the hill to the mouth of the alley where she and Sirius were crouching, shooting stunner after stunner back out into the street.

Even with three of them, and the cover of Zonko’s Joke Shop—reinforced against magical damage—there was no way for them to hold out against so many.  She’d given enough time, at least, that the two men who’d saved them could struggle to their feet and begin fighting again, but even with five on their side, it was never going to be enough.

I could die here, she thought.  The word was in her brain, now, never to be removed.  We could all die here.  Her, Sirius, Remus, the two men in the street, the ones hanging in the air—they could all die tonight.  Helplessly, her thoughts flew to James, bleeding, waiting for them.  She knew with a bone-deep certainty that no matter what he might have agreed to, he would not leave without them.  Had she just killed him, too?

A flare of white light appeared in the middle of the street, expanding outward with a blinding intensity, until Lily was forced to close her eyes against it.  Was this what death looked like?

Apparently not.  The light faded, and Lily opened her watering eyes, blinking rapidly to clear them.  Where the light had been, people were appearing—apparating—into the middle of the street.  They were masked as well, faces covered with scarlet feathers.

Sirius trained his wand on one immediately, but Remus reached out and touched his arm, restraining.  “Wait…”

Obediently, Sirius waited.  As they watched, these new people joined the battle on their side, striking back against the murderous crowd.  One rushed forward to take the weight of the two red-haired men who had been holding off the crowd alone.  Somewhat awkwardly, the three of them turned on the spot.  Lily thought she caught their eye for a moment, before they vanished into thin air.

“It’s time to go,” Remus said, his voice worn thin.  “James…”

That seemed to be the magic word.  Sirius let Remus pull him up to his feet, toward the darkness of the field, and the storage shed behind it.  Sirius reached behind himself for Lily, closing his fingers over her hand and the wand still clutched in it.  The three of them, a clumsy six-legged creature, moved up the slope and away.

~

Lily didn’t need to check the watch on her wrist to know that they were late to return; she could see every minute etched in James’ face.  He and Peter had already gotten the four strangers into the dark tunnel and walking down it, some of them crying, but they themselves were lingering at the mouth.  When Lily, Sirius, and Remus stumbled in, shaken but alive, Peter dropped James’ arm and ran to them.  But James only closed his eyes for a long moment, tipping his head back against the dirty wall of the tunnel.

“You should have left,” said Sirius.  He sounded as raw as Lily felt.

“We were,” said James.

They started down the tunnel, Sirius bracing James, Remus hurrying to the front to light the way for the rest of the group, and Peter bringing up the rear.  Lily walked in between the Hogwarts students and the locals, reluctant to abandon Remus, the unerring leader of the party, and unwilling to move far from James and Sirius.  The walk was long, and mostly silent, punctuated by the sniffles of whoever was crying—it was too dark to identify them for sure, and she couldn’t exactly criticize.

The man walking next to her turned, and it took a moment for her to realize he was talking to her.  “You are a student?  At the castle?”

“Yes.”  Just one word felt rude, so she pulled herself together enough for a real answer.  He was probably just searching for some normalcy in this crazy night.  “We all are.  We’re in our sixth year.”

His girlfriend spoke next.  “You’re very young.”

“Yes.”  This time, Lily didn’t try to add any chatter.  There didn’t seem to be much to say.

“Too young for this.”  The man’s warm accent gave a gravity to everything he said, as if it was coming from a much older man.

“I don’t think you get to be too young, in a war.”  Because that was what this was.  A war.  The realization brought no surprise.  Maybe it hadn’t been a war so far, but it was coming toward them with the implacable, uncaring certainty of a freight train.  And when it arrived… They would have to be ready—more ready than they had been tonight.

~

Since the moment he’d received Andy’s rushed warning, Sirius had felt electric, every nerve and sense alive and buzzing with purpose.  But as they made their way down the passage, it seemed to be burning itself out, and what it left behind was fried and brittle.  Even with James on his shoulder, safe if not sound, Sirius felt raw, like he was coming down off of something worse than adrenaline.

Climbing through the mirror and back into Hogwarts he’d expected to feel relief, but instead the apprehension lingered.  The quiet corridors, the stillness of the sleeping castle—it seemed impossible that everything that had happened that night could fail to touch this place, and yet there was no sign of anything disturbing its nighttime tranquility.  Its peacefulness felt almost insulting, as they stood there panting and bloody in front of the sleeping portraits.

They began walking faster.  Sirius wondered if the rest of them were driven by the same fear that had struck him only moments before—that no one in the castle knew yet what was happening just down the hill, and that it would be down to them to raise the alarm.  He knew logically that the fastest way to figure this out would be to wake a portrait, or start shouting, or something, but dread held his tongue.  It felt like Schrodinger’s kneazle: to ask would mean receiving an answer that he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear. 

Halfway up a sweeping flight of stairs, Remus—who had been so steady—stumbled, barely catching himself on the stone ledge of the window.

“Remus?”  The question slipped out, sharper than he wanted it to be.  When Remus didn’t respond, he moved.  Evans appeared at his side, where she’d been hovering all night, and took James’ weight without a word.  As he hurried up the stairs to Remus, he could hear James make a feeble joke, but he couldn’t hear Evans’ reply.

He reached the landing at last, where Remus was frozen, staring out the window with revulsion on his face.  Sirius swallowed dryly—he didn’t know for sure what Remus was looking at, but he had a guess.

The window was large, and offered a beautiful view of the surrounding mountains, as well as of the valley where, if you knew what you were looking at, Hogsmeade was nestled just out of sight.  Above that spot, floating high enough for them to see it, was a glittering green skull with a snake in its mouth.

Remus, still staring at the mark in the sky, put out a blindly searching hand.  Sirius stepped into its reach and Remus’ fingers fastened around his arm, tight enough to bruise.  Behind him, he could hear the last of their group struggle up the stairs and grind to a halt, but he couldn’t spare a glance from the side of Remus’ stricken face.

As they stared, he thought he could feel a ringing in his ears start up, increasing in volume.  It wasn’t a ringing, though—it was the sound of people.  Somewhere nearby, there was conversation, and people moving around.

The realization traveled around the group, loosening shoulders and bringing relieved, exhausted smiles to faces.  As he watched, the sound registered with Remus as well.  He turned, and Sirius let himself be pulled away from the window and upward, to the noise and the people.

~

In the brief moments when she thought to check her watch, Alice couldn’t believe how little time had actually passed.  It felt as though she’d endured entire lifetimes from the moment she and Frank had become suspicious to the time they’d arrived back at the castle with a dozen weeping students, only to find themselves thrown into a chaos of activity.  Frank had had to leave her almost as soon as they’d made it back; he was needed to arrange beds for an indeterminate number of panicked guests, fleeing the village.  The hallway in front of the hospital wing had been converted into a makeshift triage, and Alice found herself and her three household healing charms in charge of identifying people who those charms could serve, and people who needed more serious medical care.

In the midst of this hysteria, she’d trained herself to stop looking for her friends, to stop jumping hopefully to her feet at every newcomer.  It was a distraction she couldn’t afford, and one the patients she was treating didn’t deserve.  Which was why, when she looked up and saw the person she’d been trying not to search for, she almost didn’t believe her eyes.  But there she was: dragging an almost unconscious James Potter, and accompanied by all of the missing Gryffindors, and more.

There wasn’t time for reunions or for explanations—apparently James’ condition was grave.  The five of them—Madame Pomfrey making an exception for once—staggered through the double doors, leaving Alice to sort out the scrapes and anxieties of the other students and villagers Lily had picked up along the way.

But after she’d sent those people to the correct places, and taken a moment to shoot off a message to Dorcas, telling her and the rest of the girls that Lily was safe, she couldn’t help herself any longer.  With a last glance around the emptying corridor, Alice stepped quickly through the doors to the hospital wing in search of answers.

Madame Pomfrey and her assistant were working over James, if not frantically, then with a clear urgency.  Lily and the rest of the little group were standing off to the side, looking terrified.  Alice stepped forward.  “Lily,” she called.

“Alice!”  Lily dropped Sirius Black’s hand to fall into Alice’s embrace.  For a minute they just stood there, holding each other.  Tears sprung to Alice’s eyes when she felt the way that Lily was shaking.  What could she have endured—could all of them have endured—out there on their own?

Lily pulled back.  “You’re okay?  Frank?  Mary?”

Alice cut her off, hurrying to reassure her.  “Yes, yes, we’re all okay.  Me and Frank got all of the girls out before anything happened—you were the only one we couldn’t find!  Lily, love, I was so worried… I—”  She noticed something, on Lily’s arm, and stopped short.  “Lily, what is that?  Are you hurt?”

“That?  Oh, that’s nothing, it’s fine.”

“It most certainly is not fine!  Lily that’s not like any burn I’ve ever seen…”

“There was a man there who fixed it already, it’s fine…”

Madame Pomfrey, eyes drawn by the commotion, spotted Lily’s arm and gasped.  “Miss Evans!  Into a cot right now, and no arguments!  As for everyone else—out!”

The return of her rule-abiding persona was a relief.  If anything, it boded well for James’ recovery that Madame Pomfrey felt no qualms over shooing his closest friends away from his bedside.  It was clear that said friends didn’t see it the same way, stubbornly lingering despite all of Madame Pomfrey’s angry insistence that her patients needed rest.

Curiously, it was Lily that Sirius turned to, as if she, and not Madame Pomfrey, was in charge of what happened next.  Lily spoke up, answering his silent appeal.  “I’ll be here all night,” she said.  “I’ll get you if anything changes—you know I will.”

This, at last, seemed to persuade them and they said their goodbyes, Sirius’ hand stroking through a sleeping James’ hair with more gentleness than Alice had thought him capable of.

They filed past Lily, their anxious gazes moving between her and James.  “I promise,” she repeated.  And then they were gone.

“That means you, too, Miss Okafor—your friend here was bitten by fiendfyre, and that’s no easy task to repair!”

“You can do it, though?” asked Alice anxiously.  The hospital wing seemed to bring that side out of everyone.

“Of course I can!  But cursed wounds… there’ll be an ugly scar, that’s for sure.”

Lily cracked a grin.  “Mary’s gonna be devastated.”

“You were leaving, Miss Okafor?”

Alice stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Lily’s shoulders where she sat on the bed.  “I love you,” she said.  She kissed the side of her head, through the dust and what smelled like smoke.  Lily’s good arm went up, clinging to her too tightly for a moment, before reluctantly letting go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Alice firmly, reassuringly.  Then she was backing through the double doors and Lily was lost to her sight.

~

Unavoidably, biological needs force their way to the front of a crisis: either hunger, or thirst, or exhaustion will inevitably require an answer.  Tonight was no different.  Despite everything, before dawn had made its way over the mountains the castle had returned to a deep slumber.  In the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey dozed in her quarters, her dozen patients stable and silent.  Students may have crept into each other’s beds or piled onto the common room couches, but they, too, had long since fallen asleep.

In the corridor outside the hospital wing, two students slumped on the stone floor, mostly covered by an invisibility cloak.  With their fluttering breaths, it slid further off, revealing Sirius Black, sitting against the wall with his head bent toward his chest, fast asleep.  Lying next to him was Remus Lupin, with his head pillowed on Sirius’ outstretched legs.  Sirius had one arm draped protectively over Remus’ shoulders and the other wrapped around his wand, but his head drooped low, and he slipped slowly sideways until he was almost on the floor himself.

In the faint moonlight Remus’ eyes opened, but he didn’t move.  He gazed straight ahead, too still to be sleeping.  He stared into the dark for a long time.

~

James wasn’t sure what had woken him.  It was still dark in the hospital wing, and he couldn’t see any movement through the gauze curtains that surrounded his bed.  He lay very still, listening hard to the silence, and then he thought he caught it—a small noise, like a sniffle, from the bed to his right.  “Evans?” he said tentatively into the darkness.

She stilled.  The clouds moved away from the moon, brightening the room, and he could see her better now, a faint silhouette on the other side of his curtains.  “Potter?” she said, her voice sounding strange.  “Are you awake?”

“Yeah—” he started, but before he could say anything else she had pulled up his curtains and was standing by his bed, looking down at him.  He wished he was sitting up more, or wearing more of a shirt, or at least that he could see her face more clearly, but in the shadows of the room her expression was nothing more than a smudge.

“Are you cold?” she was asking, hands fluttering anxiously over his body without actually touching him.  “Does it hurt?  Should I get Madame Pomfrey?”

“No!  No, Evans… it’s all fine.  She fixed me up, everything’s okay now.  It doesn’t even hurt.”  He couldn’t see her face, but he could feel her eyes on him.  “I promise.”

“Okay…”  She was still standing next to him, hands tightly clasped together.  “Do you need anything?” she asked again.

“Um…”  His mouth was awfully dry.  “Some water, maybe?  If you—”  She ducked out through the curtains again in a swirl of white fabric, and he immediately regretted asking for anything that required her to leave.  But she was back again, moments later, with a cold glass of water.  He struggled up on one elbow to drink it—still watching him closely, she moved her arm as if to help him sit up, but dropped it back to her side without touching him.

He handed the glass back.  “Thanks,” he said.  His voice was less hoarse now, and it was easier to speak quietly.  His eyes had also adjusted to the dark, or else she was just closer to him now, because he could see she was holding the glass in both hands, pressing on it very tightly.  “How about you?” he asked, peering up at her face.  “Are you doing alright?”

She turned away without answering and set the glass very deliberately down in the center of his nightstand.  It made a faint clink.  They both stared at it for a moment.  “Lily?” he said.  Then, without warning, she climbed onto his hospital bed, leaned down, and started to kiss him.

It wasn’t like any kiss they’d had before.  For one thing, he’d never had his shirt off before, and she’d never been on top of him like this, her legs bracketing his hips, one of her hands braced on his bare chest, the other at the back of his neck, pulling his head up to meet her.  He tried to gather her up, to press her down closer to him, but it was hard with only one arm working at full capacity.

Her balance shifted, and he let out an involuntary grunt of pain.  He hoped she might mistake it for a sexy sound, but she must have realized it wasn’t because she stopped kissing him as suddenly as she’d started.  In the absence of her tongue in his mouth, he began to realize something was strange about all of this.

He pushed on her shoulders a little bit, just enough to get her to pull back and look at him.  Her face was mostly still in shadow, her hair hanging around them like a silky veil.  He wanted to wrap his hands in it and pull her back down, but he didn’t.  Something felt very off about her right now.  “Lily?” he asked.  “What are you doing?”

She gave a jerky shrug.  He waited.  “Why?” she said.  Her voice was thick, but with an edge of her usual stubbornness to it.  “Do you want to stop?”

“No!”  That at least made her smile, he thought.  He wanted to touch the left corner of her mouth, where her lips pulled up, but he didn’t.  “It’s just, you’re crying.”

He was more right than he’d realized—as she sat up further and the moonlight hit her face, he could see that tears were pouring down it.  He pushed himself up as well as he could to look her in the face.  “Lily, what’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer, just looked to the side to avoid his gaze, crying silently.  Her arms were folded protectively across her abdomen, hands gripping her elbows tightly.  She was still straddling him, and what with that and the moonlight, the whole situation felt completely surreal.  He knew enough by now to figure it wasn’t anything he’d done that was making her cry, but that didn’t give him a lot of clues as to what the problem was.

“Are you scared?” he offered, hesitantly.  She cried harder, shaking with it, looking determinedly away from him.  “Hey… hey… Look at me.”  He reached out with the arm that he wasn’t using to brace himself and attempted some sort of comforting touch.  It was clumsy, with the bandages, but he managed to reach her arm and rub up and down it in what he hoped was a soothing gesture.

“It’s okay… I was really scared too, but we’re all okay now… we’re back in the castle—in the hospital wing—no one’s going to hurt you here.”  She hadn’t stopped crying, but she was looking at him again, so that was better than nothing.

He reached awkwardly up to pat some of the tears off of her chin and cheek, rambling, “I mean, the hospital wing… probably the safest place in the castle, if you think about it… Can’t picture Madame Pomfrey letting anything get past her, now can you?  Plus, there’s all of us here—we wouldn’t let anyone hurt you…”

“You’re so stupid,” she said, her voice remarkably steady for someone who had been crying.

“Probably,” he said, trying to run through what rubbish he’d been spouting and identify what she was referring to.  “I mean, usually.  I mean, yeah.  But what exactly…”

“I’m not scared I’m going to get hurt—I was scared for you!”  This shocked him into silence.  He stared at her, disbelieving, but she seemed completely serious.  “You really scared me, Potter,” she said, eyes lowered.  Her finger reached out, feather light, and traced along his chest, where the bandages met a little crookedly.  It made his stomach clench, not entirely unpleasantly.

“Evans, I’m fine,” he said.  In response she jabbed a finger at the dressings, pointedly.  “Okay, so I did get hurt a tiny bit, but I’m fine now.  I’m fine because you saved me.”

She sat silently, staring down at her hands where they rested on the bandages on his chest.  Carefully, he raised her chin so that she was looking him in the eye.  She wasn’t crying anymore, but her wet lashes were sticking together in clumps, and her nose might have been running a little bit.  He ran his hands down her arms, over the rough ridges of her healed burn, until he was holding her hands in his.  “Lily… You saved my life.”

Her hands tightened on his almost painfully, but then some sort of tension seemed to release, and she slumped down to lie, half on top of him, on the bed by his side.  At first it was sort of awkward, in the narrow hospital bed, but then he got an arm around her, and she tucked her head under his chin, and it seemed like it might work out.  She had a leg thrown over his that was going to torture him all night, but it was worth it.

“Are you wiping your nose?” he asked.  “Evans, that’s my sheet.”

“I think it’s the least you can do for your savior,” she said wetly, punctuating her statement by blowing her nose aggressively on what was most definitely his sheet.

“Go for it, Evans,” he said sleepily, “you can blow your nose on my sheets for the rest of our lives.”

Chapter Text

Madame Pomfrey was mercifully silent on the subject of who was in whose bed when she came to wake them up in the morning, but she did kick Lily out of the hospital wing, with stern instructions for scar tissue care that Lily already knew she wouldn’t remember.  James she needed to keep for a few more days—something about lowering risk of infection by closing the wound in multiple stages?

That was the slightly confused message Lily delivered to an anxious Sirius in the Great Hall.  “But he’s okay, right?  He’s fine?”  Lily had to reassure him multiple times before it seemed to sink in.

The Great Hall was unusually subdued, any gossip wrung out of it by the time Lily made it downstairs.  For all that it was closer to lunchtime than breakfast, the morning had the fragile, soap-bubble quality of the earliest hours of the dawn, when you’ve stayed up all night to great it.  A time when people spoke less, and more quietly, and the light felt very clean and thin.

She’d showed up to breakfast braced to have to give her friends an explanation for everything that had happened, and full of what she’d thought was an anxiety to hear what they’d been through without her.  But when she saw them, and held them, she realized that what she truly wanted was only to sit at the breakfast table with them and drink her tea, and not to have to think about anything more than that they were all still here.

They were all still here—Marlene leaning on Dorcas’ shoulder, Mary on Lily’s left and Sirius on her right.  Alice and Frank were up at the high table speaking to Dumbledore, within easy eyesight.  Lily found herself forgetting to eat in favor of looking from one person to another, as if reminding herself that they were really with her.

Not everyone was there, though.  It had cost her more than she’d expected, to walk out of the hospital wing and leave James behind.  However illogical, she didn’t think she’d be able to relax with him out of her sight.  After last night, she wanted nothing more than to have everyone she cared about in a room where she could see all of them and never have to worry ever again…

Lily smiled at Mary, who was nodding off into her mug of tea.  This might be as close to that as she ever got.

Remus walked into the Great Hall and headed toward them, Peter trailing behind, and like clockwork Lily felt Sirius’ shoulders hunch on the bench next to her.  Even now, after everything?  Surely, surely now, at least… Her thoughts trailed off as Remus walked deliberately up to the table and sat directly across from Sirius.

Any other day, the entire school would have been watching with baited breath, hungry for the latest melodrama Sirius Black’s life had to offer.  But today it passed almost unnoticed, with only Lily to witness.

“How’s James?” said Remus, directing the question at Lily.  He wasn’t looking at Sirius.

“Fine,” said Lily automatically, her rising hopes stalling in midair.  She couldn’t be sure what was happening.

Remus nodded, and began to load his plate with food as though this was all he had come for.  Sirius sat as still as a photograph, everything but his hands, clenched on the edge of the bench so tightly his muscles shook.  She wanted to put her own hands over his, under the table where Remus couldn’t see, but she was too late.  Sirius seemed to resign himself to being ignored and stood up, lifting his goblet and plate to move with them to another part of the table.

Without looking up, Remus put out his hand and caught Sirius’ wrist.  Sirius froze, hands suspended above the table.  Slowly, deliberately, Remus pushed the hand holding Sirius’ plate back down onto the table where it had been, and Sirius went with it.

Nobody spoke.  The moment felt too precarious, as though a wrong move from anyone could send it tipping over to shatter on the floor.  Next to her, she didn’t think Sirius was breathing.

Remus continued eating as if nothing was happening, as if Peter wasn’t growing increasingly twitchy on the bench next to him, as if Sirius’ wasn’t staring at him like he couldn’t believe he was real.  But when Lily looked closely, she saw the white-knuckled grip Remus had on his fork, the deliberate way he kept his head bent, hiding his face.  Whatever had changed his mind, it was clear that it had taken all of his will just to get this far.

“Are you going to eat that?” he asked.  Not waiting for an answer (one that Lily was pretty sure Sirius wasn’t capable of giving) Remus reached across the table and stabbed Sirius’ gherkin, lifting it off of his plate and taking a bite.  Sirius ducked his head, letting out a shuddering sigh, like he’d been holding it for a long time.

Remus still hadn’t looked up, but the faintest of smiles touched the corner of his mouth.  The tension in his shoulders eased, as though he was wearing his decision more comfortably now. 

On top of the table, between their untouched goblets of pumpkin juice, Lily found Sirius’ hand and hung on.

~

The tenor of the room changed, attention shifting, and Lily looked around for the source.  She didn’t have to look far.  At the high table, Dumbledore had risen to his feet, looking solemn.

“I am sorry to have to speak to you all today.  At a time like this, we want only to be with our loved ones, to feel the peace of their company, and the relief that comes from seeing them safe and well.  But there are things that cannot wait for tomorrow, and I am afraid that I must be the bearer of heavy news.  Last night in the village, three people died.  Three people were murdered, and among those was a Hufflepuff student named Cynthia Martin.”

The hall was silent as stone.  Any sound, any shifting in a seat, seemed to be absorbed, overwhelmed by the weight of the silence.  Cynthia Martin?  Lily struggled to find a face to put to the name, but was coming up empty.  She had a vague impression that she had been blonde, but she might have been picturing Mary instead.

“Cynthia was seventeen years old.  She liked writing poetry, and cooking for her little brothers, and ice-skating on the lake with her friends.  She wanted to work with magical creatures, and she had a new job at a unicorn sanctuary beginning in the summer.”  Dumbledore’s voice grew colder.  “Now she will do none of those things.  They were taken from her, as she was taken from us.”

Over at the Hufflepuff table, someone started to cry, high-pitched, like a child.  It continued as Dumbledore spoke, rising and falling under his words like a poorly tuned radio.

“Cynthia was taken from us by the savage actions of a group of criminals bent on terror and destruction.  Individuals who follow the ideology and orders of a man calling himself Lord Voldemort.”  Sirius’ grip on Lily’s hand was like a vice.  She could almost hear her bones creaking under his fingers, so quiet was the hall.

“Voldemort believes that wizards without magical heritage are not truly wizards, and he intends to enforce these beliefs with violence.  Ultimately, however, his beliefs are not about who is deserving or undeserving of being part of the magical community, but about power, and how he wishes to wield power over others, from his followers to his victims.”

“This is a very old fight, and this man is only the latest face in it.  Such men have been defeated before, and will be defeated again, but the cost…” here he paused, and for a moment he seemed too weary to continue.  “The cost may be very high.”  His head bent, heavy with grief.  The silence stretched out, the crying high and thin.  Above them, the sun shone down brightly from the blue sky of the ceiling, but it offered no warmth.

Dumbledore straightened again.  “The ministry of magic does not wish me to tell you this.  They believe that giving any more attention to this man will only make him stronger.  But I think that it is too late for that.  Cynthia Martin knew nothing of this man, nothing of this conflict.  She was never the target of this group’s hate or rage, but they killed her nonetheless.  I do not believe that ignorance will protect you.  There will be no bystanders in a fight like this one.”

“I wish that I could assure you that Cynthia will be the last person we lose to the hate and greed of Voldemort and his followers, but that would be a lie.  She is not even the first.  But she may be the first that you know.”

Dumbledore’s steely blue gaze roved the hall, sparing no one.  “I do not say these things to you to frighten you, but to warn you.  To warn you against the idea that anything this man says can be trusted.  Cynthia was kind, and generous, and funny.  She loved you, and she was loved in return.  May your love for her protect you from ever being seduced by the words—by the lies—of a man like Voldemort.”

~

At last, Lily could remember Cynthia—Cindy.  Back in third year, Cindy had approached her to invite her to join the charms club.  She’d had dark hair—Lily couldn’t think why she’d remembered it as blonde.  She’d been friendly, and it had been flattering to be asked, flattering enough that Lily had considered her offer.  But in the end, she’d turned it down.  Sev would have been upset if she started practicing with someone else, and she’d known by then that he would never have been willing to join a club with sweet, cheerful Cindy Martin.  He had been so condescending toward Hufflepuffs.  She couldn’t remember ever speaking to Cindy again, and she was struck with a guilt so deep it ached.

It didn’t subside as they made their slow way back up the tower stairs and into the girls dorms.  Lily had been forced to let go of Sirius’ hand in the common room, and she could feel his absence like a phantom limb.  Memories of Christmas, of sleeping on the couches close enough to touch, flashed through her mind.  Even Alice wasn’t here with her, instead back in meetings with Frank and Dumbledore and the other teachers.

“Lily?”  Mary ventured.  “You okay?  You didn’t know her, did you?”

“No… no, I just…  I just feel so guilty.”  It burst out of her in a terrible, confessional whisper.  “Everything Dumbledore said, about ignorance… I’ve kept so many secrets.”

They were spilling out of her now, the attacks in the corridors, the skull and snake.  Narcissa Black’s hints and taunts.  Snape’s new confidence.  “I thought I was protecting you by keeping you all out of it.  But now I just feel like maybe I could have warned her.  Could have warned you!  That whatever it is that’s coming is already here, in the castle… I…”

Lily looked around at them, only to be shocked by the same guilt on all of their faces.  “Lily,” said Mary slowly, miserably.  “You’re not the only one who’s been keeping secrets.”

And then Mary was confessing, telling stories of whispered threats in the dining hall, of Mulciber following her around the hallways, just in the corner of her eye, until she was afraid to walk alone.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” said Dorcas, horrified.  “Mary, we would never have let him near you—”

Mary shrugged uncomfortably.  Lily knew without asking why Mary wouldn’t have said anything, and she thought about changing the subject to spare her having to explain herself.  But to her surprise Mary spoke up, giving voice to feelings that Lily hadn’t yet been able to say.  “I guess I thought it would make it more real, if everyone knew.  I just wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening for as long as I could…”  She looked up at Lily, eyes shining.

“I know, love.  I know,” said Lily.  She wrapped an arm around Mary’s shoulders, pulling her in close.

Dusk was darkening into blue night outside of the tower windows, creeping into the room and up to the edges of the warm light surrounding Lily’s four-poster.  On the bed, inside its rich red hangings, the secrets were pouring out.  Dorcas, whose parents were talking about moving, back to France, or further, to the States.  “They say… they say it feels like last time.  That other wizards might think this will all blow over, but they were in Paris, in 1940.  They say they won’t do it again.”*

Even Marlene, who was as pureblood as the Potters, had her own signs and rumors, suspicions.  The one cousin that no one in the family spoke to anymore.  The way that her older brothers would sit up late at night at the kitchen table, talking in whispers, sending her out of the room if they saw her trying to listen.  Staying out all night, coming home having clearly been fighting.  Her family’s circle of friends narrowing, as people drew subtle lines between who they would and wouldn’t associate with.  Picking sides.

“I wish I’d known things were so hard with your families!  I wish…”  Lily trailed off.  She should have asked more.  She thought about Marlene’s welcoming, messy home, her handsome, daring big brothers.  About Dorcas’ excitable parents, always comical next to their gruff, scowling daughter.  She hadn’t even considered them.

“You were having such a hard year already,” said Marlene, dismissing Lily’s apologies.  “I guess we thought it would only make things worse.”

“It doesn’t,” said Lily.  It wasn’t until the words were already out of her mouth that she realized they were true.  It should have felt worse, to know what her friends had been going through, but instead she could only feel relief.  For so long, she’d held these fears so tightly to her chest.  She’d actually believed—arrogantly—that she was the only one with an eye on the storm in the distance.  The only one who felt its looming threat, nebulous and dark, growing on the horizon.  But she’d never been in this alone.

The faces around her, lit by the warm golden light.  Alice and Frank, grave and determined, standing next to Dumbledore at the high table while he spoke.  Sirius stepping in front of that curse, all those months ago.  His constant, teasing, comforting presence through the year, up until he and Remus stood on either side of her to cross a battlefield last night.  James Potter, on the floor of the Transfiguration classroom, looking older than she’d ever seen him.  James Potter, bloody and resolute, refusing to save himself without bringing everyone else with him.

And whoever those men had been, the ones who’d saved her from the fire.  Them and their reinforcements, who’d arrived just in time.

“There’s more,” said Lily.  She took a deep breath, bracing herself against Mary, and began, at last, to tell her friends about the night before.

~

Lily woke late that night with a jolt, thrust from a dream she didn’t care to remember, but which she wasn’t quite able to forget.  James’ grey face had been in it, and Sirius’ terrified shouting.  She flexed her hands; she couldn’t quite rid herself of the sensation of blood on them.  “You’re becoming a proper little Lady Macbeth,” she said to herself, in a weak attempt at humor.  Nobody laughed—they were all still sound asleep.

She shifted Mary off of her shoulder (Mary frowned but didn’t wake) and slipped into her coat.  A familiar folded paper was in one pocket.

Lily walked downstairs barefoot to stand in the middle of the common room, paper in hand.  It was mostly dark, except for the dying fire, and the faint moonlight trickling in from the highest corner of the window.

“You might as well come out.  It’s only me,” she said to the apparently empty room.  “You’ll never make it past Madame Pomfrey, even with that—”

There was a rustle, almost too quiet to be heard, and then Sirius’ dark head was emerging from the shadows, followed shortly by Remus and Peter.  Their cloak fell away, revealing them to be similarly dressed in winter coats.  “Busted,” said Remus, with a whispery laugh.

Lily walked over to one of the couches and sat, unfolding the paper as she went.  By the time Sirius sank down next to her, the Map was already open, all of the secrets of the sleeping castle revealed.  Remus and Peter tiptoed over to sit as well, and they all watched James Potter, in the hospital wing, in silence.

Peter was the first to fall asleep, stretched out on the carpet at their feet, Lily’s coat spread across him.  In the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey made her quiet rounds, once, twice, and then it was Lily herself who nodding off, head in Sirius’ lap.  She woke once in the night to the sound of him and Remus murmuring to each other.  Lily listened to their quiet voices until she drifted off again—too low to know for certain what they were saying, but just loud enough to know that they were there.

Chapter Text

The next few days were spent in a strange sort of purgatory.  There was no class, so there was little to distract from the endless stream of panicked letters from home, students being pulled out of school, long hours where Alice and Frank were locked in a room with Dumbledore.  The news cycle spun wildly by them.  After the initial report on the attack, the number of deaths, and the damage, the Prophet maintained a stunning silence on the matter.  Follow-ups were relegated to beneath the fold, terse, tight-lipped stories from the auror office, with no new information to report.  The student body collectively turned to smaller presses, who were surging to fill the void.  Publications like the Zodiac and the Beehive (respectively a gossip magazine and a local magical recipe pamphlet) ran weepy, sensationalized articles featuring “interviews” with “survivors.”  One that Lily had never seen before, the Quibbler, was making the rounds with a wildly far-fetched account of a dragon-worshiping cult releasing a Chinese Fireball into the village as revenge for the George and the Dragon mummers play.

The local wizarding paper, Loch Times, was briefly the winner of this morbid competition, with by far the most accurate depiction of events—that a militant group of blood-purists had staged this attack near the school as part threat and part recruitment ad.  Usually a weekly publication with less than a thousand readers, they were fighting valiantly to keep up with demand, taxing their small-scale printing press to its utmost capacity to send daily updates that were increasingly smudged and riddled with typos.

Lily had thought about contacting them for an interview, Dumbledore’s words about ignorance still bouncing around in her head, but before she could make up her mind they seemed to give up.  The daily updates stopped.  Whether the staff had burned themselves out, or if there was some other pressure that had forced their hands, Lily couldn’t be sure.  She told herself she was being paranoid, but the less the Prophet wrote, the more the Loch Times’ sudden silence felt sinister.

By the end of the week, everyone in the castle was united by the alien sensation that they missed school.  By the time classes resumed, the student body was desperate for something, anything, else to think about.  And they got it.  The very first morning back in class began with the shocking news that Rancourt had been fired.

How the news got out before anyone had had Defense yet was difficult to say, because the two people in the know were obviously above suspicion.  But leak it did, and Lily came down to Thursday morning breakfast in a swirl of conversation, as a badly shaken castle seized on some normal gossip with relief.  It was Alice’s dancing eyes that confirmed it.  Rancourt, who had haunted her year like a personal boogeyman, was really gone.

“It was the day after the attacks,” said Alice, bursting with her success.  “Frank and I spent most of the day in meetings with Dumbledore, and we basically told him he didn’t have an excuse anymore.”

Frank appeared, grinning over Alice’s shoulder.  “I know he doesn’t want to offend Beauxbatons, and I’m sure he has good reasons to treat them gently, but that man couldn’t stay.”

“Frank told him he had to be seen to take a stand.”  Alice’s happy face darkened, the seriousness of the situation pressing back in.  “If he’s not willing to expel students, then he still has to do something to show that he’s serious about which side of this conflict Hogwarts is on.  Speeches won’t cut it.”

“The man does a lot personally,” said Frank, “but Hogwarts… it’s too big and significant of an institution.  There’s no such thing as neutrality, when it comes to Hogwarts.”

“Did you really say that?  To Dumbledore?” Mary cut in, disbelieving.  She, like most of them, had always held Dumbledore in a distant, untouchable reverence.

“He really did,” said Alice, a little starry-eyed.

Frank looked awkward.  “I mean, he asked me what I thought.  I wasn’t in the mood to sugarcoat it!”

Lily was feeling a little starry-eyed herself.  “Frank…” she said sincerely.  “Did you know that you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen?”

Next to her, Mary bobbed her head in enthusiastic agreement.  “Alice, I finally see it—maybe he is sexy—”

“Okay, okay, kids, knock it off,” said Frank.  He put his hand on top of Lily’s head and shook her affectionately.

Dorcas cut in.  “Is everyone just going to ignore the way that Alice has been acting like head girl all week?  What happened to the other one?”

Frank scowled.  “Angie?  She says she got injured at the attacks.  I didn’t see her in the hospital wing, but regardless, she hasn’t left the Slytherin dorms since.”

“So, what?  Alice is just going to do her job for her?”

There was an unusually hard look on Alice’s face when she spoke.  “Someone has to.”

Marlene, who had been preoccupied making bacon sandwiches from Dorcas’ toast and given no indication that she was listening to the conversation, brought them all back to the immediate question. “Okay, but then who’s teaching Defense?”

~

For some reason, it was the utter strangeness of Albus Dumbledore subbing for their DADA class that made the year finally feel… if not back to normal, at least back to a school year.  It was so jarring and funny to see him in his magisterial velvet robes, blindfolded at the front of the class while they tried and failed to score a hit on him, that it was easy to ignore the reason why he had suddenly decided that dueling was part of the curriculum.

Dumbledore settled back into his chair as confidently as if the blindfold wasn’t there.  “Shall we regroup?” he asked mildly.  “Perhaps you could try collaborating.  Two fighters might succeed where one has failed?”

“Merlin, but he’s a show-off,” said Dorcas, turning to Lily.  “Okay, so you shield and I’ll…” she trailed off, thoughtfully.  “You know what?  You’re better at non-verbal spells than I am by now.  I’ll shield, you shoot.”

It wasn’t as fluid as when she’d fought with Sirius and Remus, before, but Lily could feel the potential of it.  Something to be built.  Of course, they came nowhere close to Dumbledore, but it almost didn’t matter.  By the end Dorcas was flushed with success, her dark curls standing out around her head like she’d been electrocuted.

“That was the best I’ve ever dueled!  Lily, you’ve gotten so good!”  Dorcas did not hand out complements easily, and this one glowed in Lily’s chest.

By the end of class, Sirius and James (of course) had gotten the closest to actually hitting Dumbledore.  While James distracted him from the right, Sirius had thrust out his open palm, shouting something that clearly wasn’t Latin.  Fire erupted from his bare hand, singeing Dumbledore’s sleeve and earning him an approving nod.

“Very inventive, Mr. Black.  When fighting an opponent such as myself, it is always best to think outside of the lines.”

“Dirty cheat,” Lily heard Remus say as Sirius strutted back to his seat.  “Not even gonna admit that I’m the one who taught you Welsh spells in the first place?”

Sirius, triumphant, had no shame.  “You should have used it yourself then.”

“And if you don’t teach it to me, Sirius Black, I’ll never speak to you again!” said Dorcas.  “That was unbelievable—”

“Who wants to speak to you, Meadowes?” sniffed Sirius, and Lily held her breath.  But Dorcas was too excited to take offense.

“You’ll teach Lily, though, obviously.  And Lily will teach me.  So you might as well skip the middleman.”

“Ugh,” said Sirius.  “It was bad enough when there was only one of you.”

“You don’t want his help, anyway,” said Lily, despite the smile on her face.  The possibility of Sirius and Dorcas voluntarily spending time together wasn’t worth letting Dorcas go into that situation without being warned.  “He’s a shit teacher.”

In the end they reached the obvious solution, and Remus agreed to teach everyone.

~

That night, Lily returned to the common room long after the rest of the girls had headed up to bed.  The darkened tower, her heavy coat and boots, her wand in her hand as she snuck downstairs past her sleeping roommates—they were all familiar, part of far too many scenes this year.  But despite her habituation, she felt a thrill of excitement shiver down her spine.  This time she wasn’t sneaking out alone.  She was waiting for someone.

The portrait door opened slowly, and the partially disembodied head and shoulders of Sirius Black stepped through it.  “Ready to go?”  With a happy squeeze of anticipation, Lily jumped to her feet and headed over towards him.

Sirius was fastidious about arranging the invisibility cloak over them, draping it just so, so that they had room to maneuver but were fully hidden from every angle.  Lily wasn’t much help with this—too distracted by the strange sensation of the cloak (like water against her skin) and the novelty of watching her hand appear and disappear, hanging in midair like an omen.

“Is this a dagger I see before me?” she intoned dramatically.*

“Save the nerd shit for Moony.  Now hold still.”

Lily sulkily put her hand back down.  “What’s the point of doing all of this now, before we leave?” she asked, while Sirius carefully tucked a fold of the cloak into his belt to secure it.  “It’s not like the Fat Lady didn’t just see you come in… she’s gonna know who’s leaving, suddenly fully invisible…”

Sirius glanced back up at her, the cloak sliding across his hair like a veil.  “Yeah, but she hasn’t seen you yet.  It’s to keep you out of it if she decides to snitch.”

Lily’s heart gave a pleased flutter at this protective consideration.  And then Sirius continued with, “No one would ever guess you were sneaking around with us—you’re our new secret weapon!” and that felt even better.

She let him wrap an arm around her shoulders and guide her out of the portrait hole—Sirius Black? You’d better get back here! called the Fat Lady after them—and then they vanished into the dark castle.

The novelty of moving unseen through the nighttime castle quickly wore off, replaced with the deflating realization that two people walking underneath a what was essentially a large blanket was incredibly difficult to pull off with grace and subtlety.  It was like running a three-legged-race, only they mummified you first.  She stepped on the front of the cloak again and only her arm around Sirius stopped her from falling flat out.

“Here,” he whispered, “put out your other arm and hold the cloak up with it, kinda away from your face.  Yeah, like that.  Then you won’t trip, and the damn thing will stop trying to smother you…”

Lily let out a giggle that was probably too loud, but Sirius didn’t shush her.  “So this is how you all snuck around the castle all these years?  Shuffling like this?  I’m really learning all of your secrets tonight, aren’t I?”

Sirius didn’t reply, and for a moment she wondered if she’d offended him somehow.  An old fear surfaced, as she worried that perhaps he or some of the other boys were angry about her knowing all of their secrets—that maybe they hadn’t wanted to have this little meeting with her tonight.  She’d assumed that if they planned to tell her, then it was a unanimous agreement.  But the truth was, she couldn’t be sure.  Was it Peter?  She always thought he liked her fine, but they’d never been close…

“Actually,” said Sirius at last, his voice startling her after his long silence, “there’s one more secret you should know.”

~

Sirius hadn’t ever considered telling Evans anything about that night in November, but with all this talk of secrets it hung heavily in the air, impossible for even him to avoid looking at.  She’d never pressed him for details, although she’d obviously gleaned some information about it from various sources.  This, though, he was certain she didn’t know.  James would never, ever, tell her—it wouldn’t occur to him to.  Which meant that Sirius had to.  Had to do this much, at least, for James, after everything.

He didn’t look at her but he could feel her turn her head to frown up at his face, and he was grateful for the darkness of the night.  He didn’t think he needed her to see any more deeply into him right now.  Instead of looking back, Sirius swallowed and stared fixedly at the moon where it shone into the entrance hall in its cold, implacable way, watching his confession.

“It was James, that night.  Who saved Snape’s life.”  (‘From me,’ didn’t need saying.)

“James went down the tunnel after him.  Pulled him back before Remus could get to him.  They both could have died, but… he went anyway.”  He felt his throat closing up around the words, but he’d managed to say the important part, at least.  That would have to be enough.

In the silence afterward, Sirius thought about what he wasn’t telling her.  Like, that he wished James had never had to make that choice.  That he wished he’d never let things get that far—that he wished he’d just killed the bastard himself, right then and there, and Azkaban be damned.  That he would know better, next time, if Snape ever tried to offer him a devil’s bargain again.

He wondered if Evans knew those things too—she certainly hadn’t seemed surprised by anything he’d said so far.  But next to him she was silent, revealing nothing.  He risked a glance down at her, but all he could see was the top of her head.  The only sign she’d heard him speak—that he hadn’t only imagined telling her the truth—was the way her arm tightened around his waist.

His own arm, wrapped around her shoulders, tightened as well, pulling her closer into what was almost a hug.  It wasn’t a hug, of course, but if it was, there was no one there to see.

~

Once they’d made it outside, Lily gave up on trying to keep the cloak over herself, choosing instead to sprint after Sirius across the grounds.  The cloak streamed behind him like a banner, making him flicker in and out of view.  The night air was cold, but whenever the breeze picked up she could smell the spring it carried with it like a promise.  The half-moon shone, silvery and gentle, across the new grass.

Lily caught up to him at last at the base of the Whomping Willow, just out of reach of its branches.  He tossed her the cloak and she fumbled with it for a moment, before eventually just draping it over her shoulders like a cape.  She stood there waiting, her breaths coming hard enough to feel the stretch in her ribcage, while Sirius searched the ground, muttering in a perplexing way about Prongs never putting things back where he found them.  Inexplicably, he lifted a long dead branch off of the ground with a triumphant air, as though he’d really accomplished something by finding it. 

“And now,” Sirius called, “for the grandest secret of all…”  This puzzling statement made more sense a moment later when Sirius, with a flourish, pressed a long stick into a specific spot on the trunk of the Whomping Willow.  The threatening shaking of the branches stilled, and the whole tree twisted, an opening emerging at the base of the trunk.  A tunnel.

Sirius gestured at it with a magician’s air.  “Go on, then.  After you.”

It was a long walk underground, but by logic it should have been longer.  If they were truly walking the whole way to the Shrieking Shack it should have taken close to an hour, but by her watch (Peter’s watch) Lily saw only fifteen minutes pass.  She thought about asking Sirius about it.  Sirius, or maybe James.  It probably had something to do with magical buildings in general, the way the walk seemed to deny the physical reality of time and space.  She would have to keep a closer eye on her watch when she went back.

Possibly she was distracting herself from what Sirius had told her.  She’d think about it, at some point—it deserved thought—but she couldn’t start now.  Not in the middle of this dark, lonely tunnel underground.

And then they were in the shack itself, clambering out into the waiting circle of their friends, and she didn’t have to work to distract herself anymore.

James was bouncing on the balls of his feet, sparking with anticipation.  When Lily’s head emerged, he darted forward to help her out of the tunnel.  She didn’t really need the help, but she took his hand anyway.  It was nice to have an excuse to feel that warm, callused hand, the sureness of his grip.

“No, no, Prongs, just leave me here!” grumbled Sirius from behind her.

Peter stepped forward with an elaborate bow, as if Sirius was a regency heroine being asked for a dance.  “Why Padfoot, my dear, pray allow me.”  He extended his hand with a flourish.

“Oh, how kind of you dear sir,” simpered Sirius, laying his hand limply on top of Peter’s.  “I simply don’t know how I could have walked up these stairs without your gallant intervention…”

“Very funny,” said James.  He dropped Lily’s hand and walked back over to the tunnel mouth, seized Sirius under the arms, and lifted him out.  “Are you satisfied now?”

“No,” said Sirius petulantly.  “Carry me over the threshold.”

James rolled his eyes, but swept Sirius up into a bridal carry (Sirius swooned dramatically) and began advancing up the stairs with him, knocking his head into the wall at every opportunity.  Lily and Peter followed behind, humming a dirge-like bridal march.

Remus stuck his head over the railing.  “What’s taking so long… oh.  Is this a wedding or a funeral we’re holding?”

“It’s James’ funeral,” said Lily.  “Getting married to Sirius would be a fate worse than death.”

Sirius lurched upright, squawking indignantly.  This succeeded at last in overbalancing James, and the whole group came crashing down at Remus’ feet.  Remus, as though he was very used to this, turned and walked back into the room without a word.

~

Remus had started a fire burning in the fireplace, but otherwise the room was dim.  As she walked in, Lily waved her wand, sending tiny golden lights to cluster in the corners and hang around the ceiling like Christmas-tree lights.  She couldn’t help but glance back over her shoulder at James as she did so, finding with satisfaction that he was already watching her.

“Nice one, Evans,” he said.

When they were all settled on the floor, it seemed to fall to Remus to begin the explanation—confession—story—that Lily had come here to receive.

“So,” started Remus with a flicker of amusement, looking around the circle as though appraising the quality of his audience.  “As you may have heard, I am a werewolf.”

The whole story—from learning Remus’ secret, to finding the one, impossible, loophole, to the obvious conclusion—didn’t actually take more than a few minutes to tell.  It’s the rest of it—the transformations, the botched attempts, the month they spent holding a mandrake leaf under their tongues (I knew you all were suspiciously quiet that spring!), the times that they’d almost gotten caught—that started to excitedly pile on top of itself into one long, confusing, insane story.

“Alright, alright, alright!” said Lily finally, shouting over an old argument between Peter and Sirius over who came the closest to spilling the beans to McGonagall.  “Okay, so I’ve seen both of you—the rat and the dog…” she turned to James, narrowing her eyes.  “But what on earth are you?  Prongs?”

He grinned at her.  “Guess.”

James’ eyes were dancing in a way that was clearly visible even from across the room.  It was terribly distracting.  “A fork,” she said, only half-listening to herself.

Remus snorted in her ear.

James looked wounded.  “Of course not!  I’m the most majestic animal there is!”

“How dare you—are you saying Wormtail isn’t majestic?”  Sirius held up Peter, now in rat form, waving him in James’ face.  Peter somehow managed to convey total indignation, written all over his tiny quivering body.

“So majestic you named yourself Prongs?” said Lily dryly.

“You have to understand, Lily,” said Remus in his most sarcastic tone, which was so sarcastic it sounded completely sincere, “we came up with these names a long time ago, when we were much younger than we are now.”

Lily could fill in the blanks.  “So last year, then.”

“Exactly,” said Remus.

“Ah, our younger days,” said Sirius melodramatically.  “When we were mere callow youth, unaware of all that life would bring…”

Fed up with waiting for them to finish having their fun and give him back the floor, James transformed.

“Oh,” said Lily.  It hadn’t been exactly what she was expecting.  The stag—James—ducked his head, its gleaming antlers sweeping down.

“Show-off,” Remus muttered behind her.

The more she looked at deer-him, the more familiar he seemed, and then she blinked and he was James again, sprawled across the floor as casually as ever.  He leaned across Sirius’ lap to steal a wheel of licorice from the steadily diminishing pile of candy in the center of the room and took a horrifying bite straight through it.

“Barbarian,” said Sirius.  “Unwind them like a human being.”

James ignored him.  “What Remus won’t tell you about the nicknames is that he actually chose them all himself.  We think it was revenge for three years of being called Moony.”

Remus’ face was serene.  “I would never,” he said.

~

The secrets, as it were, were out, but no one made any moves to leave.  The morning with its classes, and responsibilities, was still distant enough to be easily ignored in favor of a rousing game of cards.  At first she’d thought it was exploding snap the boys were setting up for, but as Lily watched she began to wonder if it was something else.  When Lily asked if they were, in fact, playing Egyptian Rat-screw, a game she’d played with her muggle friends too many times to count, she was met with universal indignation.**  This was apparently Scottish Cat-screw, a far superior game with penalties involving being slowly transfigured into a cat.  Rat-screw was an offensive term, and she should know better than to speak like that in front of Peter.

As tempting as that sounded, Lily opted out of playing.  Instead she perched on a rickety desk, with Remus (on the only functional chair) sat between her legs so that she could give his hair its promised trim.

Wand out, she ran her fingers through his sandy brown hair, using it to maneuver his head from side to side as she assessed the situation.  “I’m getting really good at this, you know.  I bet I could give you a passable mohawk this time!  How does that sound?”

Remus grimaced.  “Tempting, but better not do anything that won’t grow back before my dad gets a good look at it.”

“Do it Lupin—I thought you were punk?  Shit!”  Sirius lost a slap, and to add insult to injury, his deck of cards exploded in his hands.  By the convoluted rules James had attempted to explain to Lily, she was pretty sure this set Sirius back to the starting line, which was no more than he deserved.

Lily appraised the back of Remus’ head.  “We could do it… I can just cut it again, before we all go home.  If I do it short enough the second time, it should blend right in…  What do you say?  Ready to break out the gel?”  Using her grip on his hair she nodded his head up and down in a parody of agreement.  Even from upside down, she could tell he looked pleased.  Lily cracked all of her knuckles, making Remus wince, and set to work.

There was something meditative about cutting his hair—the warm tiny room, Remus’ companionable silence, listening to the laughter and trash-talk over on the floor without paying much mind to it.  Something inside of her chest was stretching like a stiff muscle in a warm bath, like an unclenched jaw easing itself back open again.  It felt a little like listening to one of Mary or Sirius’ long silly monologues—the same lazy, contented feeling—except for…

James glanced up, fumbled a slap, caught her eye, and winked.  He was losing the game spectacularly, but it didn’t seem to diminish any of his enjoyment.  In fact, tonight might be the happiest she’d ever seen him.  He was a naturally cheerful, enthusiastic boy, but just now he was glowing with it, spilling it out all over the room.  Lily bent over Remus’ head, but it didn’t matter—she could always feel when James was looking at her.

Sirius’ words crept back to her.  She’d pointedly avoided thinking about them through the long grim tunnel, but now, in the bright and cozy room, she considered them.  She wasn’t surprised.  Or, at least, she was shocked that Sirius’ said anything to her about this at all, but what he’d said inspired no disbelief.

James let out a triumphant shout that turned into a pained yelp, presumably due to exploding cards.  He was always so loud—everything right out there in the open, not even trying to hide anything he thought or felt.  Everything she’d learned about him this year had always been there, right in front of her nose, but somehow she hadn’t seen it.  Saving Snape’s life.  She could have guessed as much, if she’d known to try to guess.  And now that she did know, she didn’t need any details to see exactly how it went: a decision more like a reflex, no second thoughts, no hesitation.  And James running down that long dark tunnel alone.

She turned and met his eyes, and a smile spread across his face.  It was incredible how he would smile like that every time, reflexively, like he couldn’t help himself.  He wore his happiness so easily.  And maybe there was something in her that liked the idea that she was making him that happy.  Lily smiled back.

Suddenly, James howled in pain, clutching his hand to his chest.  Sirius, impatient as ever, had struck.  “Bloody ow, Padfoot!  It wasn’t even on the deck!  My hand was just lying on the floor, innocent!  The fuck is wrong with you?”

Sirius was unabashed.  “Are you gonna play, or are you just gonna sit there with your hand down your pants?”

“Merlin—you’d better learn there’s no place for sore winners in the Potter household!  And take off those bloody rings before I feed them to you!  You’re a dirty cheat…”  A giggle escaped Lily before she could stop it, and just like that, James’ head was turning away from his argument with Sirius, swinging back over toward her like she’d pulled it on a string.

This time, Sirius’ slap was aimed right across the face.  The smack of the impact was cartoonishly loud, and rang in the air before James, finally pushed too far, tackled him.

“I’ll hold him down… Pete!  You get his rings off!  This has gone too far!”

Rolling her eyes, Lily refocused on Remus, letting the battle on the floor wear itself out and the game resume (now with Sirius’ rings laid out in a row in front of Peter like some sort of trophy).  She was just getting to the fun bit, too, trying to shave some sort of pattern into the side of his head with her wand.  Tufts of his fine hair fell to the side as she trimmed.  She stopped to brush some off of the desk she sat on when a thought occurred to her.  “It’s so weird that there’s furniture here.  I’m literally just realizing it, but it’s actually super weird, right?  Did you guys bring it in, or…”

“Nope—” Remus popped the ‘p’ dramatically.  “It was fully furnished for me in first year.”

“…No…” 

“I know,” Remus’ voice was thick with dark humor.  “It’s too ironic to bear.”

“That’s—  That’s—” a giggle broke through, and then they were both laughing hysterically.

“Oh, Remus,” Lily gasped, “what were they thinking?”

“I know… I know…”

“You’re going to take a seat in a little werewolf chair, at a little werewolf table and… and…”

“Drink my werewolf cuppa on full moons?  I know…”

(Over on the floor, Peter won his biggest slap yet, due to the total and complete distraction of his competitors.)

~

It was very late by the time James stumbled out of the Whomping Willow’s reach and onto the moonlit grounds, late enough that it had tipped over into early, the half-moon slipping down the sky into the west, pursued by the stars.  He was the last one out.  Under the moonlight, Lily was chasing Sirius-as-Padfoot, shouting when he turned and jumped up on her, tackling her to the ground.  James knew he probably had a stupid, sappy look on his face, the kind that Sirius would smack right off of him, but he was too happy to care.

“Not to steal your role as the optimist, but for the first time I’m thinking this might just work out for you, Prongs,” said Remus from his side.

He didn’t want to admit that he’d been thinking the same thing.  Or, not the same thing exactly, but just basking in what he currently had.  His favorite people, together again.  Close to the lake’s edge, Padfoot transformed back into Sirius, threatening to throw Lily into the cold water.  His loud laugh mixed with hers, floating over toward them.

A thought occurred to James, and he turned to look at Remus more closely.  He frowned.  It was what he had expected: Remus was no longer looking at James, his teasing smirk of the moment before had vanished.  There was only one person who drew his gaze.

“Remus,” he started, and then stopped.  What could he possibly say that wouldn’t sound like rubbing it in?

“Don’t worry about it, James.  One of us might as well get what we want.”

Now a blatantly wrongheaded statement like that James didn’t think he could let lie, for everyone’s sake.  But Remus cut him off as soon as he opened his mouth.  “Don’t start.”  Remus’ voice was thin, as though he was at the end of his patience.  “I know what you’re going to say, and I won’t listen to you.”

The moment hung there awkwardly, before Remus shrugged, a wry smile banishing the aching expression on his face.  “I’ll live.”  His eyes flickered back to Sirius one last time, before he turned to face James fully.  “Or at least, it won’t kill me.”

Chapter Text

It was one of many rainy mornings in April, the kind that could be any other morning, really.  The sky over the Great Hall was an opalescent grey that would have been beautiful if not for the looming threat of Herbology in the mud and wet.  Marlene had taken one look at the sky and come down with a sudden and terrible illness, retreating back up to the dorms with no regard for the effect that would have on Lily’s day.  Lily, vowing bloody and elaborate revenge for this betrayal, walked to the Gryffindor table alone and threw herself onto the bench next to James.

“Potter, you’re partnering me for Herbology today, and I don’t want to hear shit about it from Sirius—”  She broke off when she saw he wasn’t listening, and followed his gaze to the side of the hall.  “Oh, bloody hell,” she said.

“And they’re back.”  James was referring, of course, to the table set up for auror recruitment, just below the head table.  “I’d have thought they’d have been ashamed to show their faces this year, after the way they cocked it up on the Equinox.”

Lily felt the grey April sky settle onto her shoulders more heavily.  She was too far to see the details, but she’d walked by this table enough times in the past few years to be able to picture it plainly.  It would be covered in photographs of smiling, good-looking aurors, and Prophet clippings of heroic rescues and duels, and glossy pamphlets filled with instructions for a successful career in magical law enforcement.  Bait.

“Pretty sure shame is an alien concept to a soldier,” said Alice darkly.  There was a moment’s silence, while they all watched a grinning, uniformed young man encourage students to try and beat him to the draw.  Soldiers.  Lily turned this term over in her mind slowly.  So the ministry knew they were at war, then, even if they didn’t want to admit it.

“Alice,” said Lily, “you had that auror internship last summer, didn’t you?”

“She had a flirting with my nemesis internship, yeah,” interjected Frank.  “Bloody Prewetts can’t stay away…”

“He’s your friend, Frank…”

Lily was used to this joke of Frank’s, but still not entirely clear on who the Prewetts were.  When no additional information was offered, she decided to ignore Frank’s contribution to the conversation entirely.  “And?  Do you think you’ll join up?”

Alice sighed.  “I still don’t know… I—my dad would never forgive me if I became a cop.  But I don’t know if there’s any other way…  It’s not like they’ve got many black halfbloods calling the shots in the ministry…”  Wordlessly, Frank raised Alice’s hand to his mouth and kissed it.  “Even with Frank’s family supporting me…  Aurors might be my best chance.”

Lily stared at the recruitment table, feeling a resignation that mirrored the one on Alice’s face.  Alice couldn’t be the only halfblood or muggleborn thinking this way, and it wasn’t as though the aurors were doing anything to discourage this attitude.  There were posters describing the lifelong friendships formed in the MLE, and pamphlets detailing the illustrious careers in government that had been kickstarted by a few years serving English Wizardry and upholding Law and Order.  And with what they were up against…

She shouldn’t have started her thoughts down that road, but they got away from her before she could control them.  What they were facing…  Flames pulsed again in Lily’s vision; flames, and what the flames were burning.  Around the edges she could tell that people at the table were talking, but all she could hear anymore was the screaming.

A warm weight against her shoulder brought her out of her memories.  She blinked, the fire receding.

The warmth came from James’ arm.  He’d leaned closer, his shoulder pressing into hers, grounding her.  It was casual enough to have been an accident, but she was grateful for it all the same.

“They’re laying it on thick for the muggleborns this year, aren’t they,” said James, as if he’d read her mind.  “Oh, join up and be part of a community—it’s sick.  They’re playing on the insecurities of children who already think they need to earn their place here.”

He turned his head as he spoke so that he was looking directly at her, but Lily could do nothing but stare at him.  Alice or Frank must have responded instead, and the conversation moved on without her.  James left his arm where it was, though.

Lily wanted to put her head down on his shoulder so badly it was like he’d grown his own gravitational field.  She couldn’t seem to make the leap, however, from thought to action.  She compromised, letting herself lean her shoulder back into him, a very little bit.  Only enough for him to know she was there.

“You’re in luck,” he said.  For a moment she thought he’d read her mind again, and the thought was terrifying.

“Sirius is skiving off today—he’s too delicate for this weather, apparently.”  He was only referring back to what she’d said at the beginning of breakfast.  She’d almost forgotten about it, herself.

James continued, “So, I’m all yours.”

“For Herbology,” Lily said, as if to remind herself of what he really meant.

James’ eyes were clear and guileless.  “Of course.  For Herbology.”

~

As they squelched around in the mud for spring planting, James surprised her yet again.

“Evans…” he said, “I’ve been thinking.”

“How novel.”

He stuck his tongue out at her.  It stuck out much farther than it reasonably should have, past the point of unusual and to the point of concern, and she told him so.

James retracted the tongue.  “I know, I know.  Sirius did something to it a couple nights ago, when I wouldn’t shut up about… never mind.  He said he put it back, but I think he didn’t set it all the way right.  And he and Remus and Peter all swear up down and sideways that it’s always been this way…  Pretty sure they even bribed a couple of second years to back them up…”

Lily laughed so hard she slipped sideways in the mud and almost fell.  James, looking wounded, refused to lend her a hand.  Lily struggled back to stability with the aid of her shovel, saying, “Well, it hasn’t.  I would have noticed that thing flopping around…”

There was a pause, while they both thought about how she knew anything about his tongue, and then while they both decided to go the route of plausible deniability.

“Anyway,” said James, a little too loudly.  “I’ve been thinking—do you still have your movie-thingamajig?”

“Yeah,” said Lily.  She dug her shovel in too deeply, and it was a struggle to free it from the suction of the mud.  “Why?  Do you want to watch a movie?”  She tried to ignore the tingle of anxiety (or was it anticipation?) the thought gave her.

“No—or, not exactly…  Do you think you could rig it so that a whole group of people could watch?”

“Yeah.  I usually project it on the dorm wall… Potter, what’s this about?”

“I had this idea.”  Something in his voice made her give him her full attention.  “I thought that maybe we could show a movie in the common room.  Invite the whole tower.”

When she didn’t respond, he began to try to explain.  “Since the attack, I’ve been worried about how some of the younger muggleborn students are handling it.  At least one even got pulled out of school…”

Lily nodded.  There had been others, of course, but the one Gryffindor first year who’d been sent home had made sure her departure was impossible to ignore.  She’d exited to the tune of hysterical sobbing from all ten of her classmates, vowing to come and rescue her.  By Frank’s account, Lily hadn’t even seen the worst of it, which was the four hours he spent searching for this kid while her friends had tried to obstruct him at every turn.  “Real little Gryffindor,” he’d said sadly.  “Proper pain in my arse—reminds me of you, Lily-billy.”

In front of her, James was continuing.  “I want to do something to make them feel at home here, but something fun, that doesn’t make a big deal out of it, you know?  Something where they can include their wizarding friends.  I…”  He stopped short, as though he’d run out of words and was only waiting for her to deliver her verdict.

Lily stared at him, but she wasn’t really seeing him.  It was Sirius she saw, Sirius, and the way his face had changed as the movie began to play.  She’d barely glanced at the projection that first night—she’d been too busy watching his reaction, nauseous with anxiety.  But more than her nerves she remembered the slow relief blossoming in her chest as Sirius gasped, and yelled, and barely blinked.  When she realized he could love this as much as she did.

What James was offering—it could be that moment for so many other students.  “James,” she started, and stopped, not sure if she could get the right words out through the pressure of those memories.

But he was nodding already.  He could read her answer right there on her face, like he always could.  “Okay, that’s good then.”  She knew that he wouldn’t make her say it—in his generous way he was already moving on.  But he deserved more than that from her.

“It’s brilliant,” she managed, “You’re brilliant,” and he lit up.  It was incredible that her saying something so small would have that effect on him.

“Actually,” she added, “I think we should do it for the whole school.  I can ask Dumbledore at the next prefect meeting—he’s gonna love it.”

James beamed at her.  “We could use the Great Hall…  I was thinking at the end of the month when we usually have the spring Hogsmeade weekend, since that’s canceled now, but if you need more time to set something up… ”  And he was off, carrying her with him.

Halfway through a passionate discussion of spell logistics (scaling up the image without making it grainy was going to be a bitch to tackle) she stopped short.  “James,” she said, “I only have three movies.”

“Okay,” he said, puzzled.

“No, we have a real problem—none of the movies I have are appropriate for children.  Like, not at all.”

“Oh,” said James, looking relieved.  “Is that it?  That’s not a problem, Evans.  Just pick a movie that is, and I’ll get it.”

“No, Potter, you don’t understand—it’s a massive process!  You have to go to the a theater where it’s playing to record it, and then you have to remove the recording with priori incantatum and fix it into the potion for long-term storage… you can’t just ‘get it’…”

He grinned at her.  “Don’t you trust me by now, Evans?  I’ll get you your movie.”

~

The excitement of having a plan carried Lily through her afternoon classes, but it couldn’t bolster her mood through the assembly that was held before dinner.  Just as they had done every year, the aurors held a dueling exhibition, and then answered student questions afterwards.

“I don’t get it,” said Mary as they filed into the Great Hall with the rest of the school.  “Why do they bother talking to underclassmen—they’re only babies!  I know I only really had career questions once I started picking what to take to NEWT level…”

Dorcas saved Lily from answering.  “That’s because it’s not advising, dummy—it’s advertising.  It’s to get the kids thinking about being an auror before they even know what a job is.”

“Well, how come no other jobs do it?”

“The real question is why the hell Dumbledore allows it,” said Dorcas, loud enough that the auror table could certainly hear it, although they didn’t react.

Frank heard it, and abandoned his head duties (to the disgust of the head girl, who had apparently “recovered” from her “injury”) to walk with the girls to the Gryffindor table.  “The whole endeavor is relatively new—my first year was their first year too.  Dumbledore doesn’t let them actually sign any students up for the program until after they graduate, but it’s mostly a technicality.”

“Why’d they start?” started Mary, but then her face changed.  “Ugh.  I have a guess.”

Frank answered her anyway.  “They started expanding the auror class again a few years ago.  Not to mention the size of rank and file MLE courses, or hit-wizards…”

“Frank!” snapped the head girl, Angelica Nott, from over by the entrance.  “Do you expect me to take attendance by myself…?”

“Whoops,” said Frank, with a comical grimace, before he hurried back to the doors, saying, “Everyone’s here, Angie…”

“Don’t call me that—” Nott replied, but Lily wasn’t listening anymore, preoccupied with scanning the Gryffindor table.  Everyone was not here: James and the rest of the boys were conspicuously absent.  She wondered if they’d skipped on purpose, or if they’d simply gotten caught up in their own affairs and were blissfully ignorant of the bullshit the rest of the school was about to be subjected to.  She tried to picture where they would be, at a time like this.  Would they be out in the shack, again?  Or in one of the countless other secret hideouts they’d cultivated over the years?

Up at the front, the aurors were preparing for their demonstration—a young black woman and a tall man with red hair were stepping forward.  “You ready, Vance?” called the man.

“One minute,” the woman replied, “I haven’t decided which hand to tie behind my back.”

One of the waiting aurors laughed.  “Generous of you to give him a fighting chance, Emmy,”

Vance grinned.  “We wouldn’t want this to be over too quickly, now.  Gotta give the kids a proper show.”

The red-haired man took the ribbing with a good-natured grin.  There was something familiar about that grin…  Lily couldn’t be sure, but she thought she might have seen it before.

“Psst.  Evans,” came a voice from next to her, disrupting her attempts at remembering the auror’s face.  She looked around, but she couldn’t spot where the sound had come from.

“It’s Sirius—I’m under the cloak.”  That explained things.  She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to an invisibility cloak, but she took a moment to be proud of herself for not jumping too obviously at the sound of a disembodied voice calling her name.

“I was supposed to get you before it started—don’t tell Prongs I forgot.  Anyway, want us to smuggle you out?”

It was stupid to be this happy to be invited, as if she was in primary school and being included in the cool kids’ games, but Lily had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from her smile from becoming entirely inappropriate to the setting.  As it was, Dorcas still gave her a weird look before turning around to face the front.

Sirius continued to mutter in her ear, trying in his deranged way to make his invitation more appealing.  “Wormtail found this sweet new tunnel—we think it might be an old sewer, but we can’t be sure.  Moony said I should warn you, in case you wanted to be a little bitch about sewage…”

“He did not!” hissed Lily out of the corner of her mouth.

“Okay, what he actually said was to see if you needed to get a change of shoes, but that’s what he meant…”

But Lily was already nodding.  It was really only her dignity that had prevented her from leaping at the invitation.  Anything, even sewage, would be more fun than consuming state propaganda.  But at that moment the duelers began, and she realized where she’d seen the man before.

She put out a hand automatically, grabbing at where Sirius was probably standing.  “Sirius—it’s him.”

Whatever part of Sirius she’d made contact with moved under her hand.  “Well.  That’s a development.  What the bloody hell is he doing here?”

Lily’s first feeling at seeing him again was relief.  Something she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying lightened, seeing him so obviously healthy and whole… she supposed she must have been afraid for him.

It was his dueling style that she’d recognized—it was dizzyingly fast, even without his brother at his side.  But the woman he was up against, whoever she was, was faster.  As she and Sirius sat and watched, he was caught square in the chest and knocked halfway across the hall, wand flying.  Before he could summon it back, the floor rippled, moving up over him in a wave until he was trapped under it, pinned with only his head visible.  He struggled under it for a moment, before calling, “I give, I give.”

Vance leaned forward, breathing hard but smiling.  She jerked her wand and the floor sank back into its place, allowing the man to heave himself to his feet, groaning.  “Damn, Vance, ever heard of pulling a punch?”

“I don’t know,” she retorted.  “Ever heard of keeping your guard up?”  He threw a friendly arm over her shoulders, and they bowed to their cheering audience.

Lily turned back to Sirius and jumped—he was visible now, sitting on the bench next to her, looking wary.

“Black?” said Dorcas, frowning.  “When did you get here?”

“Been here the whole time,” said Sirius dismissively.  “Get your eyes checked, Meadowes.  Look, Evans, you’ve got to go talk to him.”

Lily nodded.  She had no idea what she would say, but she couldn’t just let him leave…  The masked people he’d been with that night—the reinforcements—this was the closest she’d come to an answer to who they were, and what they were doing there that night.

She narrowed her eyes at the recruitment table.  She knew one thing for certain.  Whoever they’d been, they hadn’t been aurors.

When he saw her his eyes widened, as though she’d surprised him as much as he’d surprised her.  He covered it well, though.  The only indication he knew her was a tiny shake of his head before he turned back to the fourth year peppering him with questions.  That subtle warning killed the impulse to run up to him publicly and shake him, demanding answers, but if he thought it meant he was getting away with only that, he had another think coming.

This interaction didn’t do much to calm Sirius, who persisted in hovering at her back like an threatening shadow while they moved slowly forward in line.

And then, before she’d had a chance to think of something to say, they were in front of him.  There was a moment of silence while they sized each other up.  “I’m Lily Evans,” she said at last.

A pause, and then, “Fabian Prewett.”

“Prewett?”  Then she placed it.  “Oh—you’re Frank’s rival!  Or your brother is, maybe?”

Fabian laughed.  “If only.  Alice is too good for me or my brother.”  He had the kind of laugh that made other people want to laugh with him.  It seemed at odds with the other memories she had of him, giving her brusque orders in a burning building, and panting on his knees in a frozen street.  But, she figured, those weren’t the best places to meet someone. 

As if he could see where her thoughts were headed, he steered the conversation back to small talk.  “So what year are you, Lily Evans?”

“Sixth.”

“Hm.”  He had an evaluating look on his face; a sharp intelligence that hadn’t been initially obvious was peeking out from behind his eyes to assess her.  After a moment, he seemed to have made up his mind.  “Why don’t you shoot me an owl after graduation, Lily Evans.  I think we could have an interesting conversation.”  The laugh was back.  “What the hell, bring your guard dog too.”

“Who?”  Fabian jerked his chin at Sirius, who was a line of tension at her shoulder.

“Oh,” she said.  “This is my friend, Sirius Black.”

Fabian’s eyebrows went up.  “Our future conversation gets more and more interesting.”

Lily steeled herself.  “Here’s the thing.  I’m not sure I want to join the aurors.”  He turned that assessing look on her again, and she tried to explain without saying something unwise.  Whoever he was, he was a potential ally.  She couldn’t risk alienating or exposing the one thread she had that would lead her back to the people in masks.  She spoke slowly, giving significance to her words.  “I’m just not sure I can do… everything I need to do, as an auror.”

He winked.  “Who said anything about the aurors.”

She and Sirius made it out of the hall in thoughtful silence.

“So what do you want to do?”

She looked at him.  “I want,” she said decisively, “to go stomp around in an old sewer.”

Chapter Text

Spring semester at Hogwarts was dominated by the elaborate planning that Dorcas’ birthday party required.  Although most of the school probably didn’t know or care about it, within Lily’s circle of Gryffindors there was no other topic as pressing or engaging.  Every year since they’d first become friends, Marlene would throw an elaborate, girly, sparkly, over-the-top birthday party for Dorcas, who endured it with grim resignation.  The date varied, since Dorcas’ birthday was actually in the summer, but that only meant that Marlene felt no shame about torturing Dorcas to her full capability.*

By their sixth year it had become the Gryffindor Event of the Spring, with pretty much everyone pitching in to make it as outlandish as possible.  This year, driven perhaps by the lingering gloom in the castle corners, Marlene was outdoing herself, and everyone else had risen to meet her.  The suggestion box that Marlene had set up in the common room had been filled twice over by now, and they were combing through the results.

“Do you think we could manage a unicorn?” said Mary thoughtfully, holding up a scrap of parchment with a poorly drawn unicorn on it.

“I don’t know—Marly, you still a virgin?” said Lily.

Marlene looked offended at the very suggestion of such a thing, but the idea of a unicorn was apparently tempting enough for her to consider her options.  “We could make Lily deal with it!”

“Dickhead,” said Lily, blushing.  She glanced over her shoulder, but was relieved to see that the boys weren’t downstairs yet.  The last thing she needed was for Sirius Black—or anyone else—to hear her sexual experience being discussed.  “Anyway, I read somewhere that lesbians don’t count.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mary, while Marlene geared up to be offended again.

“It’s not sex that bothers unicorns—it’s men.  So lesbians are probably safe…”

Marlene looked delighted.  “Okay, so all we have to do is find a unicorn!”

“Find one for free,” Mary reminded her.  “None of us has any money.”

James Potter, jumping down the last six stairs from the boys dorms, landed in the middle of their conversation with a thump.  “Unicorns don’t actually care about men OR sex—that’s just some dumb myth.  We should know—we’ve done experiments…”

So he had heard the conversation.  Lily wished quietly for death, while James continued to detail the results of their experiments, oblivious.

“Why the fuck are we talking about unicorns?”  Sirius trailed into the group behind him, looking pissy.

“Dorcas’ Super-Soft Birthday Party!”  Mary answered.

“Oh, capital,” said James cheerfully.  “We’re ready this year—did a whole new set of fireworks just for the occasion.  One of them sings—”

“Shut up!” squealed Marlene.  “She’s coming downstairs—you’ll ruin the surprise!”

Dorcas joined them with a heavy sigh.  “Don’t mind me.  Just continue your plans without any regard for my presence, or even my birthday…”

“Dorcas,” said Marlene in a wheedling tone, “how would you feel about unicorns?”

Dorcas looked revolted.

They began to trail out of the portrait hole and down to breakfast, Dorcas, Marlene, and Mary, still arguing the unicorn question, James, Lily and Sirius following behind.  Sirius, who was decidedly not a morning person, was in no mood to discuss unicorns with someone as energetic and high-pitched as Marlene.  James obviously fell back to walk with Sirius, and Lily stuck next to James.  Because she didn’t want to talk about the unicorn anymore.

She was having a strange feeling around James these days.  Feeling like there was something unfinished—something unsaid.  Kissing him in the hospital wing was distant enough to seem more like a dream, like it was some other Lily who’d cried, and said… what had she said?  Whatever it was, she hadn’t said it right.  And she didn’t know when she’d get another chance.

Marlene’s voice drifted back to them.  “Come on, then—unicorns are grand!  And Lily will look after it, so…”

“Lily will not,” said Lily firmly, from behind them.  “And don’t count on you getting one and me just taking care of it because no one else will—I’ve got a patrol that night and I’ll be late.”

Marlene deflated, but her disappointment was of brief duration.  There were any number of other suggestions in the box that still needed consideration.

“Hang on, Lily?” said James, almost in her ear.  He was closer to her than she’d thought he was, and when she turned to look at him she became very aware of the lack of distance between them.  “You’ve got patrol that night?  Remus doesn’t have anything.”

Lily swallowed.  She longed for the simpler time of ten seconds prior, when her nerves were just caused by his dark eyes, and she wasn’t thinking about prefect patrols at all.  “Yeah.  I’m with Narcissa Black again.”  The sound of his cousin’s name seemed to startle Sirius Black into alertness, while James stopped walking entirely to stare at her.

It still felt good, the way they reacted, their concern and protectiveness, but it wasn’t a surprise anymore.  She kept walking, forcing them to follow her.  She could anticipate what James would say next, and she spoke quickly to head him off.  “It’ll be fine—I’ve patrolled with her a hundred times, and it’s always been fine.  Annoying, yeah, but… fine.”

James did not appear reassured by this speech.  Lily looked at Sirius to back her up, and he shrugged.  “Cissa’s a pussy, James.  Evans can take her—”

“Sirius!” Lily snapped.

“What?”

“You know the rule.”

“Ugh.  Fine!  Cissa’s a wimp.  Same deal.”

“We could follow you,” started James, ignoring the bickering.  “One of us could use the cloak…”

“Absolutely not,” said Lily, firmly.  “What if she hears you!  You could get it confiscated…”  She was already feeling a fond possessiveness toward the invisibility cloak, the same as the map.  “And I don’t want you to spend the whole time just staring at the map—go to the party.  I’ll be fine…”

But James and Sirius were mostly ignoring her, having one of their silent conversations over her head.  As she watched they seemed to come to some conclusion, Sirius saying, “Fine, but you’ll owe me big-time, Jimothy.”

The cloud that had descended on the group was gone, leaving only James’ easy grin.  “No, I won’t.”

They were entering the Great Hall then, and sitting down at the table with the girls.  Lily, thrown a little off-balance by James’ smile, took a moment to realize that the mood there was not typical of a weekday breakfast.  “What’s going on?” she asked, belatedly.

She looked around, puzzled by the number of heads she saw bent over copies of the paper.  “Since when do these people care about the news…”  she trailed off as Alice approached, looking furious.

“Read this,” she responded to Lily’s unspoken question, thrusting the Prophet at her.  As Lily skimmed the front page, she could feel herself joining Alice in her rage.

HOGSMEADE EQUINOX ATTACKER APPREHENDED: The perpetrator of the shocking attacks on a Hogsmeade wizarding establishment over the spring equinox was killed last night in an altercation with hit wizards.  Although the man’s motives remain unclear, evidence suggests that these were the actions of a lone wolf.

Lily dropped the paper.  She couldn’t read anymore.  James caught it from under her, and he and Sirius bent their heads over it.  She had the passing thought that she should help James keep Sirius calm, but it burned up in the flames in her memory.  Bellatrix Black’s beautiful face flickered behind her eyes, taunting her.

“But that’s not what happened!” Mary said, looking to Lily with dismay.  “That’s not what you said—”

Lily couldn’t answer her, but James did.  “No,” he said, “No, it’s not.”  He sounded as angry as she felt.

“The ministry still thinks this is just going to go away,” said Alice bitterly.

“They’re mad,” said Dorcas.  “This isn’t something that will just disappear!”

Someone kicked her foot, under the table.  She looked up automatically and met Sirius’ burning eyes.  “Prewett,” he mouthed at her.  Prewett.  The reinforcements.  It felt like a magic word— she nodded back at him with a matching fiery hope flaring into life in her chest.

Lily found her voice at last.  “No, it won’t disappear.  It’ll have to be stopped.”

~

The party set up (as chaotic as the party itself would be) was in full and enthusiastic swing when Sirius came down from the boys dorms to find Evans before her patrol began.  The entire house seemed to be involved this year, and there were some obviously competing visions for the theme.  He’d hardly taken two steps into the room before he’d had to jump out of the way of a falling banner, which crashed down where he had been standing in an explosion of roses and doves.

“It’s not Valentine’s day,” he heard McKinnon say with exasperation.  “It’s a super-soft birthday party.  If you wouldn’t want it at eight years old it shouldn’t be here!”

The roses were replaced with a banner with twirling ballerinas on it.  Their dresses changed color as they moved, and tinny, music-box music played irritatingly along with them.  “Happy Sweet Sixteen Dorcas!” it said.

“Isn’t she turning seventeen?” asked the maker of the rejected banner.

“Exactly,” said MacDonald.  “Time to start lying about her age.”

Sirius felt that he had become very off track.  He renewed his search for Evans, but it was interrupted once again, this time by the birthday girl herself.  She was wearing a tiara and an irate expression.

“Hello to the birthday princess,” he couldn’t resist saying.

“Shove it,” she replied, touching the tiara self-consciously before she realized what she was doing and dropped her hand.

“Aren’t you supposed to be upstairs hiding, so that McKinnon can pretend this is a surprise?”

“She won’t notice,” said Meadowes confidently.  “Look, Black.  I need to talk to you.”

He waited.  It was as helpful as he intended to be during this conversation, and he could tell Meadowes knew it.  She was obviously struggling to keep her temper.

“It’s about Lily.  Her patrol tonight.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when she began this conversation.  His surprise must have showed on his face, because Meadowes sounded more confident and less irritated when she spoke next.

“I know you and Potter have got some stupid little plan cooked up to keep an eye on her tonight, and I just want to say.  It had better work.”  He didn’t like how accurately she’d assessed the situation, but the tell-tale weight of the mirror in his pocket was undeniable.

“Lily’s my best friend,” said Meadowes.  She sounded angry again, as though she didn’t like having to admit it.  “But she’s an idiot.  She’s point-blank refuses to skip.  And she’s already sick of me fussing…”  Sirius had a hard time picturing Meadowes “fussing,” but he’d have to take her word for it.  “I know you guys are doing something though, and I’m just saying.”

She paused and fixed him with a glare.  He wouldn’t lie—it was an impressive glare, even with (or perhaps due to) the tiara and glitter.  “If anything happens tonight, you let us know, okay?”

He hadn’t agreed, but she seemed satisfied.  She nodded once, tiara sliding back with the force of it, and then she was vanishing up the stairs.  He watched her go, frowning.

It only took a moment after Meadowes left for Evans to appear on the girl’s staircase—she must have told her that Sirius was waiting for her.  She was wearing jeans and trainers, and Remus’ old coat, and her hair was scraped back.  Her face was set, as though she was bracing herself to enter the ring, but when she spotted Sirius it softened, and she practically bounced down the stairs.

“You look like an idiot, wearing that over your robes,” she said, grinning at him.

He stuck his hands in the jacket’s pockets so that he could flap the sides like wings.  “It’s a party, Evans.  This is my party outfit.”

She glanced around the party casually.  “James isn’t here yet,” he said, just to watch her blush.

“I was looking for the unicorn,” she said in a dignified tone.  “So, what’s up, Black?”

“It’s this.”  He stepped closer, to be sure they wouldn’t be overheard, and pulled the mirror out of his pocket.

She was quiet, turning it over in her hands while he explained how it worked.  Only when he suggested testing it, see if they could get a glimpse of James changing, did she respond, laughing and shoving his arm.  But he could see the traces of some strong emotion on her face, not erased by her laughter, and so he kept joking, about the party, and the banner that had crushed him, and the suffering he would endure for the sake of the Super-Soft Birthday… he couldn’t seem to stop talking.

Evans cut him off eventually, only once she was really late.  “I’ll be fine,” she said, a little too gently.  “She’s a chicken and we both know it.”

“Yeah.”  He kicked her shoe.

“I’ll see you at the party?”

“Yeah.”  And then she was gone.

~

Lily could admit that her friends’ concern wasn’t entirely off base.  There was a dissonance to patrolling the castle with Narcissa Black that was more pronounced than ever, after March.  The need for security was more pressing than it had ever been, but to entrust that security to Narcissa Black… it was farcical.

Even Black herself seemed to feel the strangeness of it—she was remarkably subdued, none of her usual arrogance.  Instead, she trailed after Lily in silence.  Their usual game of pricks and torments lay around them like a collapsed balloon; neither of them seemed to have the energy to make it rise.  It felt so stupid to Lily, now.  What had she accomplished?  Exchanging petty blows with a teenage narcissist, feeling satisfied whenever she got one over her?  None of that was real.

Black let out a tiny sigh, and suddenly Lily was flamingly, toweringly furious with her.  How dare she be tired?  Wasn’t this what she’d wanted, after all?  Hadn’t she meant to summon this, when she’d placed that skull on the castle wall?  Hadn’t she thought that this would end in blood, and the skull and snake glittering in the air over their home?

“No gloating this time?” said Lily, her voice like ice.  “Not going to paint anything on any walls, or do a little song and dance for the teachers?  Have a little laugh?”  She swung around to look Black in the face.

Black looked shocked.  She clearly hadn’t been expecting this full-frontal attack.  Probably hadn’t been expecting Lily to speak at all.  But Lily wasn’t done.  “You’re not laughing, Black.  What’s not funny this time?”

“I knew her.”  Black put a hand up to her mouth, as though she was surprised she’d said it.  But now that she’d spoken, she continued, offering feeble justifications.  “She was in charms club.  We shared a desk.  I knew her.”

Lily felt as though she was looking at Black from an impossible distance.  The gulf between them had never felt bigger.  What had she expected?  “You know all of us.  It’s a small school.  You know her; you know Sirius.  You know me.”

Black continued doggedly, as if she was willing Lily’s words away.  “It wasn’t supposed to be her.”

Lily wondered at herself for ever having been afraid of Narcissa Black and her friends.  Children, squabbling in the hall, carrying out their small, pointless acts of hate.  All while the real powers operated outside of their control.

“Wasn’t supposed to be… But you’re not in charge of that, are you?  You can’t do anything for yourself—you only tell other people what to do.  But no one’s listening anymore, are they?”

She’d cracked her this time.  This whole year Narcissa Black and Lily Evans, two people with nothing in common, had found themselves in the same boat: helpless.  Except Lily wasn’t going to be helpless anymore.  She thought of the parchment waiting for her up in her room, where Fabian Prewett had written his owl address.  She was going to get out of this castle and do something real, her and Sirius both.  Her and Sirius and James.  And Black couldn’t stop her.

Black’s grey eyes focused on her again, hard and shining with hate.  “It was supposed to have been you.”

“Good luck with that,” said Lily.

Lily began walking again, but she didn’t get more than a few steps before she was turning back around, another question on her lips.  “Why are you here?  Why bother patrolling the castle?”

Black blinked at her.  “I’m a prefect,” she said slowly.

“Who gives a shit?” said Lily.  “Really, I don’t get it.  Is your little cult leader going to care what positions you held in secondary school?”

“The Dark Lord—”

Lily couldn’t help her laugh.  “Wow.  Okay.  So here’s the deal.  Get out of my sight.”

Black stood very still.  “I mean it,” said Lily.  “I patrol alone from now on.”

Lily turned and strode away down the corridor.  Her friends were waiting for her.  She had one hand on the mirror in her pocket, and the other on her wand, but she didn’t need either of them.  Black didn’t move.

~

By the time Lily made it back to the tower, the Super-Soft Birthday Party had been roaring along for several hours.  ‘Daddy Cool’ had escaped the common room and was shaking the whole corridor.  Remus’ modifications to their speakers must have worked, she thought with pride.

An unfortunate side effect of such a quality sound system was that the Fat Lady had vanished, fleeing the pounding music for a friend’s portrait.  Lily paused in front of the tower entrance, stumped, before she remembered the obvious solution, and pulled Sirius’ gift out of her pocket.

“James Potter?” she said uncertainly into the flat glass of the mirror.  Instantly, her reflection vanished, and she saw only darkness in the mirror.  It must have been working, though, because she could hear a muffled echo of the song, emerging from the mirror to layer on top of what she could already hear in the corridor.  “James?” she repeated.

Then the mirror was shifting, the image in it swinging around in a disorienting way before the welcome sight of James’ face filled the glass.  “Lily?” he said.  (“Lily?”  She could hear repeated in the background, faintly.  “Is she okay?”)  “Are you alright?  Do you need us?  Where are you?”

“I’m fine—I’m just outside.  The Fat Lady’s gone, and I need—” but the portrait was already swinging forward, and James’ head was sticking out it.  The terrible tension of the past few hours eased, as if he’d banished it just by showing up.  Piling up right behind him were Sirius and Dorcas, relief on both of their faces, reaching out to pull her through the portrait hole and into the party.

Dorcas started grilling her immediately, wearing her most concerned and loving scowl.  “How did it go—did she try anything?”

“It was fine—really, I swear.  I told her I was going to patrol alone from now on, and she just kinda… accepted it.  I don’t think it will be a problem again.”

Sirius looked delighted.  “You told my cousin to get lost?  Evans, tell me everything!  I need every word…”

They’d been walking further into the party as they spoke, presumably toward where Mary was handling music, but before they got there Marlene pounced, jumping on top of Lily and sending her crashing sideways into Sirius.  “Lily!  You’re here!  I missed you!”

“Hi, babes,” said Lily, staggering under the weight of Marlene’s 172cms.  “I missed you too.”

“She’s drunk as a skunk,” said Dorcas dismissively.  “And it’s not even her birthday…”

“Can we do the fireworks now?” asked Marlene eagerly.  “We were waiting for you, and I’ve been so patient…”

They reached the turntable, where Mary, loud and obviously tipsy, cheerfully abandoned her duties as DJ in favor of criticizing Lily’s record organization.  Remus and Peter walked up while Lily was bickering with Mary over whether movie soundtracks should be alphabetized by artist or by movie title.  “Glad you’re not murdered, Lily,” said Remus over the turntable.  “Now do you think you could play some good music, for once?”

“Absolutely not,” said Lily, putting on Saturday Night Fever.  “Grow up and dance a little, Remus.”

“Your hair looks sexy, Remus,” said Mary, leaning on Dorcas.  “Did I say that before?”

Lily winked at him, mouthing, “you’re welcome,” over Marlene’s head.  “Take your flock of admirers to the dance floor,” she instructed, and laughed as he was hauled away, looking alarmed.

And then it was only her and James, standing there by the record player.

“Oh,” said Lily, “here—” she pulled the mirror out of her pocket and held it out to him.  When he took it, his fingers brushed hers, sending shivers up her arm.  James didn’t seem to notice, or at least, his serious expression didn’t change.  Looking into his dark eyes she could feel it again, pressing at the back of her mind, that there was something, something that she needed to say to him.

“You really okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.  She makes me mad, but that won’t kill me.”

He grinned.  “So is Sirius right?  Is she a p— easily intimidated?”

“Good save,” said Lily.  “And no, it’s more…”  She tried to pull back the certainty she’d had, facing off against Black in the corridor, to explain the suddenness with which she’d known not to care about Black anymore.  “It’s that she’s not important.  She’s just a kid, like the rest of us.”

“She’s not the real threat,” agreed James.  “She’s just a symptom.”  Lily nodded at him, relieved.  He always knew what she was trying to say.

“Yeah, exactly.  The real thing is out there.”

They paused, looking out the steamed-up windows of Gryffindor tower in silence.  It was too dark to see much of the outside past the warm party lighting, but it felt as if they were both looking at the same thing.  “You know, Lily…  That guy—Prewett—and the people in masks.  When you go see them.”  He didn’t say if.  “When you go.  I’d come too.”

“I know.”  She did know, but it still felt good to have him say it out loud.  “We’ll find them.”

“Lucky you’ve got me on the case,” said James.  He looked more cheerful now, as though he’d gotten something off of his chest.  “I’m great at mysteries.”

“You’re shite at mysteries,” said Lily.  “I lent you one Agatha Christie back in fourth year and you absolutely lost it—”

“I was invested in the characters!  I was enthusiastic!”

“You were manic,” she laughed, but it trailed away under his gaze.  There was something waiting on the tip of her tongue—she could almost taste it—but she didn’t know what it was.  How deep is your love? crooned the BeeGees.  Over James’ shoulder, she could see Sirius slow-dancing with Peter, bumping not-quite accidentally into other couples as they meandered gracelessly around the floor.

“I should go do the fireworks,” he said.

“Right.  And I’ve got to DJ.”

“Right.  So.  I’ll see you later?”

“Bye.”  Behind her, the record player skipped, then started up again, with, Taking my time, choosin’ my line…**

“That’s enough out of you,” said Lily to it sternly.  “We both know that wasn’t in Saturday Night Fever!”

~

Sirius had been relieved—more relieved than he would ever admit out loud—to see Evans back from patrol safe and sound.  Relieved enough to join the party properly, but after an hour or two it was starting to wear thin.  He was sick of dancing with Peter, and he’d lost track of most of the people he cared to speak to.  Sirius grabbed two glasses of punch and began doing a slow lap around the room, looking for Evans.  He’d never gotten the full story of how her confrontation with ‘Cissa went down, after all.  He made sure to look as unapproachable as possible as he moved through the crowd, to deter any girls who thought today would be a good day to shoot their shot.  Sometimes he would humor them for a song or two, but he wasn’t in the mood right now.

It took a few minutes, but he spotted Evans and Remus perched on the stairs to the boys dorms, obviously gossiping.  They had identical wicked, condescending little smirks on their faces as they surveyed the room.  By the time he made it over to them and handed Evans her drink, their little group had multiplied, with Peter and James coming down from the dorm and Evans’ friends trickling over one by one.

Sirius settled in near Remus, casually booting Peter down a step or two to make room for himself to lean back into Remus’ shins.  Muscle memory that he hadn’t quite been able to train himself out of, even after all these months.  When his heartbeat picked up and he remembered why he shouldn’t be there it was too late to move without being obvious.  Part of Remus’ bare forearm was visible out of the corner of his eye.

Instead of looking at it, he handed Lily her punch.  “If you’re here, Evans, then who’s DJing?”

“I’m letting it do its own thing—on a trial basis!”  She called the last part loudly in the direction of the record player, which stuck for a moment, grinding anxiously over the outro to ‘One of These Nights’ before continuing into the next track.  “Yeah, it seemed excited, so… we’ll see how it goes.”

“How’s the movie search coming, Potter?” said MacDonald.  “Lily tells me you made some big promises…”

James looked indignant at this slight against his powers.  “I’ll get it!  The ‘how’ is classified, but don’t you worry your pretty little head, Mary.”  He winked at her, clumsily.  “A Potter always keeps their promises.”

“How hard can it be,” said Meadowes scathingly.  “All you have to do is attend a showing and record it.  Lily made you the potion already, she’s gonna do the priori incantatum shite… What do you bring to the table?”

“It’s from China, that’s why—” Peter leapt to James’ defense.

“Hong Kong.”

“What?”

James stuck his fingers in Peter’s drink to flick it at his face.  “It’s from Hong Kong, you uncultured boar.  Get it right.”

“Isn’t Hong Kong part of China?”

“It’s… complicated.”

“Which is why you can’t find this thing?” said Meadowes, refusing to be distracted from her point.

“I’ll find it!”  James turned to face Evans, raising one hand to cross his heart.  “Evans, I’ll have you know that the operation proceeds entirely as planned, with absolutely no hitches, hiccups, or snags.”

Evans rolled her eyes, but James would probably deliver.  He had called in the cavalry for this one, or in other words, enlisted his parents, and Mama Effy and Monty had thrown themselves into the search with their usual overenthusiasm.

It had only taken a few months into knowing James to realize that the Potters would always give their son anything he wanted.  It didn’t take much longer to realize that this was in some nebulous way different from how his own parents gave him anything he wanted.  Sirius had grown up surrounded by the kind of ostentatious wealth that brought anything a child might desire into reach, but this…  This was different.

James had never been the type of child to ask for expensive toys or stylish clothes.  Instead, his parents would move heaven and earth to indulge his wildest flights of fancy, from permitting him to fly his broom in the house and climb around inside the air ducts, to filling a room with sand and salt water to make an indoor beach, to constructing rope bridges connecting every tree on the property, to turning his whole bedroom upside-down for two months so that he could “experiment” with the effects of living like a bat.  Sirius’ chief take-away from his first visit to the Potters was that prior to meeting James he had been suffering from a severe lack of imagination.  Whatever James could cook up in that crazy mind of his, his parents had been thrilled to help him achieve.  Monty and Mama Effy made it clear that their indulgence extended to any friend of James as well, but Sirius had never gotten up the nerve to ask for anything.

They’d embraced the challenge of hunting down a showing of a specific muggle movie the same way.  They were, apparently, deeply impressed with Lily Evans’ system of recording movies for a wizard audience.  Monty had sent three rolls of parchment raving about her potion—its simplicity!  Its genius!  Sirius’ eyes had rolled back in his head from the sheer boredom of reading about potions for rolls and rolls, but James had poured over every word.  Perhaps he was hoping to use some of his father’s know-how to impress Evans later—something about how to add color back to the images?  Or possibly (Sirius gagged) James was far gone enough to enjoy just listening to other people praise Evans.

“Why are you making that face?” said James, frowning at Sirius’ cup, as if mentally calculating how many drinks he’d had.

“The face is a natural biproduct of being in your presence,” said Sirius with dignity.

As James started to protest, Sirius changed the subject to something he was sure would wind James up.  He was feeling a little too fond of everyone here for comfort, and it was time to stir the pot.  “So this Bruce Lee fella.  He your type, Evans?”

As predicted, James sat straight up at this, dislodging McKinnon from her position asleep on his shoulder.  She grumbled but slept on, her head wedged uncomfortably between the wall and the back of his arm.  That James would take the bait was obvious, but to Sirius’ surprise, Evans gave a blushing little giggle, as if they were twelve year old girls at a sleepover.

“Really, Evans?  My interest in this movie grows by the minute.”

“No—no that’s not it… whoops!”  Her drink sloshed and would have spilled if James hadn’t been there to steady it.

“Unbelievable,” muttered Remus in his ear.  “If only he paid that kind of attention to Peter or you, I would have spent several hundred hours of my life NOT cleaning beer off our carpet.”

“Here’s what I don’t get,” James was saying.  “Now—this is not to malign the bastion of global cultural relevancy that is Little Whinging—”
“—it’s Cokeworth—” said Evans, still giggling.  “And malign away.”

“But where did you see a kung-fu film from Hong Kong?”

“There was this girl I went to primary school with…” she started.

“Gay,” said Sirius, prompting Lily to make a face at him.

“ANYWAY, her name was Cecilia Cheng, and we were best friends.  And she had this older brother—he was in college, and he was so dreamy.  Oh, Tommy Cheng,” she sighed.  “He had this ponytail, and he knew all about music, and he’d even been to Woodstock in America…”

Meadowes interrupted her this time.  “Not to agree with Black,” (uncalled for), “but the heterosexuality is starting to drag.  Get to the point.”

“Her mother used to watch us, a lot, and Tommy would when he wasn’t in class.  He would take us to movies that he wanted to see in Chinatown—movies we were WAY too young for—and we saw all these kung-fu films.  And during the summer holidays from Hogwarts me and Cecilia would still get together sometimes and go see one, just for old times’ sake.”

She turned to MacDonald, who was sprawled on the step below her.  “Remember, Mary?  We met up with them when I visited you in London.  We all went to see that Bond movie together?”

“Oh my gosh,” squealed MacDonald, “but Tommy was so gorg, I swear—I didn’t pay attention to a single minute of that movie…”

“You can relax, Potter,” said Meadowes wryly, underneath MacDonald and Evans’ reminiscences.  “Tommy’s married.”

“Yeah,” snorted Remus.  “Because that’s what’s standing in the way of this, and not James’ appalling lack of game.”

“Gameless.  Devoid of game,” added Sirius, helpfully.

“Hey!  I got game!”

Meadowes and Sirius turned skeptical gazes on him.  Behind Sirius’ head, he could feel Remus doing the same.

“I’m making moves!  Gestures!  I’m laying the groundwork!”

“Oh really?”  Meadowes, as always, was merciless.  It almost made him want to hang out with her more.  “Potter, I’ll bet you a hundred galleons that Lily hasn’t noticed a single one.”

“Were you talking to me, babe?” said Lily innocently.

“I am under no obligation to stay here and be mocked.”  With that, James began the painstaking process of extricating himself from the group.  It took a long time, since he first had to lay McKinnon’s head down gently on the stair (he really was a pushover), and then pick over other people’s legs and hands in order to get down to ground level.  “I,” he said with dignity, “will be going to get myself another drink.  And I will not be taking any orders!”

The inevitable chorus of orders rang out.  Get me a butterbeer, there’s a love.  I could use a top-up.  Punch, anyone?  Two?  Three punches?  If that elven wine is still around bring us the whole bottle…

“I will be taking orders,” he corrected himself, “but know that I will be drinking out of everyone’s glass on my way back!”

~

The movie night was here, the Great Hall all arranged, the (surprisingly large) number of attendees all seated, the movie actually playing, and Lily still couldn’t really believe that it was happening.  Maybe because it had lived inside her for so long as an idea, she couldn’t adjust to seeing it made into reality.

She was sitting behind everyone, cross-legged on the Gryffindor table where it had been pushed to the very back of the hall to make room for the rows of seating.  She was supposedly there to work the projector, but it didn’t take much work once it got running.  Really, she was there to watch the crowd.  It was bigger than she’d expected, and so far everyone seemed engrossed in the film, but… she still worried.  The action on screen must have managed to distract her from scanning the room, because when James Potter hopped up on the table he came as a surprise.

“What is it?”  She hoped that the breathy quality to her voice could be attributed to needing to speak quietly, and not to the flutter her heart gave whenever he caught her off guard.  “Is it our turn to patrol?”  (Relieving Alice and Frank, who were currently making rounds outside of the Great Hall as a precaution against saboteurs).

“Wait wait wait—”  James hushed her, flapping his hands.  Onscreen, Bruce Lee gave one of his spectacular flying kicks, sending a bad guy reeling backward.  James’ rapt expression brought a private smile to her face.

He couldn’t possibly have seen her smiling at him like a fool, but almost as if he’d felt it he glanced over his shoulder.  “I brought the map.”  He tapped his pocket conspiratorially.  “We can just use that…”

“I don’t know…”  It was tempting, but Lily hesitated, thinking of Frank and Alice.  “It feels a little like cheating…”

“Come on, Evans.  It’s your movie night!  You should at least get to watch!”  He turned away from the screen, facing her more fully.  “If you’re worried, though… I get it.  I can round without you.”

The offer, reluctant though it might have been, was completely sincere.  But before she could answer him, something on screen made up her mind for her.  “Oh my god,” she said.  “Oh my god, I’ve never seen this fight before!”

“What?”  James frowned, glaring at Bruce Lee’s elaborate nunchaku routine.  “Did I get the wrong one?”

“No, no, you got the perfect one!  This fight must have been censored in the version I saw!”  She could tell he was confused, and she started to explain.  “Foreign films get censored a lot before they’re released in England.  All martial arts weapons get automatically cut out of the film or it can’t be shown…”†

“All weapons?”

“Nah, of course not.  Just Asian ones.  Guns, of course, are fine.”  James rolled his eyes next to her, and she knocked her shoulder into his supportively.  Or at least, she hoped it felt supportive.

They had to lean in, heads together, to scan the map for any suspicious movement, and when they turned back to the movie James was closer than he’d been before.  She didn’t move, and neither did he.  While Bruce Lee met with his fiancée in secret, and started fights with Japanese thugs, all Lily could think about was James Potter’s arm pressed all along the length of her arm, his face right next to hers, close enough to whisper stupid commentary in her ear.

The light from the projection flickered across his face, giving it strange shadows and drawing her eye away from the movie to study it.  So much about him felt like a mystery to her, still.  Here, at the back of the Great Hall in the partial darkness, her heart pounding away in her chest, it seemed like she should be able to figure some of it out.

“Potter,” she started, her smile sneaking back across her face.  “Where did you get the movie?”

“Ah ah ah, Evans.  That’s classified.”  He winked.

On screen, Bruce Lee leapt into the air, framed against the sky as if he was flying, the “No Chinese Allowed,” sign shattering under his feet.  Lily had hoped, when she chose this movie, but the sheer volume of the cheers that went up was astonishing.  Up in the front, she could see Sirius, jumping up and down and pumping his fist, while Remus tugged futilely at his arm to get him to sit back down.‡

“I think it’s working,” said James.

“It’s working better than I hoped.”  It felt risky, to admit those hopes out loud, but here, in the dark… she knew James wouldn’t laugh at them.

He didn’t laugh.  “It’s easier, I think, to use an allegory like this.  Makes the point without people realizing what you’re doing, so they don’t get defensive and ignore it.”

“Yeah.  That’s kinda what I… yeah.”

“First year, when Sirius was still walking around practically brainwashed, and I really didn’t know what to do with him, Ma and Dad sent him a whole bunch of books about muggle history.  World War II and stuff like that.  It was kinda a trick, almost—he wanted to learn about history because we were still trying to find ways to make Remus talk to us, and… well the point is that it worked.”

They were quiet, letting the movie play out.  Lily was thinking about eleven-year-old James Potter, writing to his parents about his new friends, about his worries for how to talk to Sirius, and how to make friends with Remus.  She’d always thought things like that had come easily to him.  It gave her a protective feeling to think about him back then, only a kid himself, but taking on the challenge of pulling his friends into the world he lived in.

Of course, not everyone was Sirius.  She almost didn’t dare to ask the question, but if anyone could predict the strange ways that the Hogwarts student body would move, it would be James.  “Do you think this will work too?” 

James looked out across the students in front of him, considering.  “Not on everyone, no.  But… it’s a start.”

Chapter Text

The end of the school year came with a rush.  Exams, which no one had been paying any mind to, appeared as a nasty surprise, a reminder that time continued to pass, and teachers continued to grade, no matter how many traumatic events a student body might experience.  The final two weeks of term were a sleepless haze, while Dorcas and Remus attempted to cram the curriculum Lily had been ignoring for the past nine months into her brain at light speed.

Whether they succeeded or not she wouldn’t know until the summer, but she was pretty sure she’d scraped a pass in all of her classes, even Defense.

“No thanks to you,” said Remus, limp and exhausted at the other end of her library table.  “It’s as if you haven’t attended a single class this year…”

“Oh, I know,” said Lily, in the cheerful voice of someone whose exams are already behind her.  “Any NEWTs I get will be your doing as well, I’m sure.”

“Put that unseemly cheer aWAY—some of us still have Arithmancy AND Ancient Runes to get through.  I don’t want to see a single human being smiling until I’m done.”

Lily could sympathize, but not enough to keep her own face appropriately grave.  “Remus,” she cajoled.  “I came to say goodbye—I’m leaving today.”

This actually got Remus to raise his head and look at her for the first time that morning.  “What?  Term isn’t over until tomorrow—”

“I know,” Lily scowled.  “Petunia’s wedding is tomorrow though.  She says there was a discount for Fridays, but I think she picked the last day of term on purpose.”  Remus still looked confused, so she explained more thoroughly.  “It’s just close enough that I might miss it, but I could make it, so she gets to have me not be there and criticize me for not caring about her wedding.  Win/win.”

“Ah.  So, what are you doing instead?”

“My exams finished already so I spoke to McGonagall, and she’s letting me leave today instead of tomorrow.”

“Oh.  Oh—you won’t be taking the train back with us!  Lily—”

“I know, so I came to cut your hair now, since I can’t do it on the train.”

“In the library?”  Remus was scandalized.

Once he and Lily had found a secluded enough corner for Lily to risk turning his study session into a barber shop, Remus spoke again, deliberately casual.  “You say goodbye to James yet?”

Lily was grateful that he couldn’t see her face.  “I said goodbye to everybody,” she said stiffly.  Before Remus could make his question unavoidably clear, she kept talking very quickly.  It might be an obvious distraction technique, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth a try.  “I said goodbye last night—I can’t believe you didn’t notice!  Frank insisted on having a party even though his last NEWT was that day, and then he fell asleep on the couch before it was even nine…”

“Lily…” Remus was laughing at her.  “Lily, you’re going to regret not saying something.  You’re going to regret it, and then I’ll be the recipient of angsty, tearstained letters on two fronts this summer…”

“Hypocrite,” she snapped, and then regretted it when Remus stopped laughing.

“That’s different.  It’s different and you know it.”

Lily patted his head in clumsy apology.  “I said goodbye to everyone.  Well, everyone except Sirius, but then I don’t need to say goodbye to him…”

Remus turned, and she cut a crooked, too-short line across the side of his head as he craned around to look at her.  “What do you mean, you don’t need to say goodbye to Sirius?”

“Because he’s my date to the wedding.  Didn’t he tell you?”

“He—”  Remus started laughing again.  It was his full laugh, the helpless, snorting one that he tried to avoid letting out in public.  “Oh, that’s too good.  Oh, wait until James—”  Lily waited with dignity for him to control himself and let her continue cutting off the last of his mohawk.

“Lily.  You know how unfair it is that all this entertainment you’ve provided will be playing out while I have to study for exams and can’t enjoy it?”

“Serves you right,” she scowled.

~

Remus hadn’t been wrong.  When she went up to McGonagall’s office that afternoon to catch her portkey to Kings Cross, it was with a sense of… not regret, but of having forgotten something.  No matter that she’d packed and repacked her trunk four times, and checked the common room both normally and with magic, or that she’d made Mary promise to keep an eye out for any lost items and return them to her this summer… she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something important she was leaving behind.

McGonagall made the unsettled feeling even worse by patting Lily’s scarred hand, her voice less brisk than usual as she said her goodbyes.  The last thing Lily saw before the portkey snatched her away was Professor McGonagall’s eyes, uncharacteristically bright.

When Lily landed in King Cross Station, on the empty platform 9 ¾, it was to a sense of disorientation so powerful that for a moment she wondered if this was what splinching felt like.  She’d never seen the platform empty—it was eerie.  There wasn’t so much as an empty bag of crisps blowing around on the tracks to prove that there had ever been people there.

The unsettling stillness of the platform drove her back through the barrier before she’d had much of a chance to gather herself, or to calm the nausea that portkey travel usually caused, and the crush of people on the muggle side of the station was dizzying.  She’d forgotten the way that the muggle world pounded on regardless, just on the other side of that barrier.  Sometimes it was reassuring, to know how little her magical school mattered back in the real world, but sometimes she resented it for not noticing or caring.

Speaking of which, she could see her mother waving at her, jumping up and down on the wrong side of the platform.  She was shouting, with her strawberry-blonde hair coming undone from its pins, and heads were inevitably turning to look at her.  “Mum,” she hissed, knowing that her mother couldn’t hear her across all the people.  “You’re embarrassing me…”  She sighed.  There was no point.  She waved her arms, hoping that her mother would understand her gesturing, and dragged her trunk over to the end of the platform to meet her.

“Lily, darling—oh, look at my baby girl!  You look so beautiful!”  She did not, but she let her mother smother her in kisses anyway.  Together, her mother teetering in her heels, they hauled her trunk out of the station and into the bright midday sun.  Outside of Scotland the summer had arrived with a vengeance, sunlight reflected back from the glass and steel of the buildings in a way that seemed to make it twice as bright.

Her mother dropped her end of the trunk to wave again.  Lily squinted against the sun.  “Is Petunia here too?”

“Of course!”  Lily could see her now, moving slowly toward them as though with deep reluctance.  Despite herself, Lily was glad to see her.  It was reassuring to know that some things didn’t change.

Decidedly less welcome was the looming figure of Vernon Dursley, who walked a step or two behind her, clearly even more reluctant than usual to approach Lily.  Petunia must have told him, then.  Lily braced herself to be snubbed—Vernon was nothing if not resentful of anything unusual or different—but he surprised her by volunteering to wheel her trunk to the car.  An outdated form of chivalry, but it was more friendly than she’d expected of him.

Lily was feeling almost warmly toward Vermin as the group of them walked toward the car.  He was making dull but inoffensive conversation about how difficult it was to find street parking this close to the station, and how he hoped the heat wouldn’t wilt the flower arrangements they’d picked up beforehand.

“Not that I know anything about flowers, myself—”

“Of course not,” Lily agreed demurely.  “Flowers are women’s business.”  (Petunia poked her in the side for it, but even her bony elbow wasn’t as sharp as it could have been.)

Either way, Vernon didn’t seem to notice, continuing, “well, of course not.  But it’s important to Petunia, and she mustn’t be disappointed on her big day…”

Petunia nudged Lily again, this time as if to say, see?  Lily was on the verge of conceding the point—perhaps Vernon had some positive qualities—when a young, pretty Asian girl stepped into their path.

“Lily?  Lily it is you!  Oh my gosh—what are you doing in London?”

“Cecilia?”  Lily broke into a grin, dropping Petunia’s arm to lift Cecilia off the ground in a hug.  Over Cecilia’s shoulder she could see Tommy, still ponytailed, smiling and waving at her.  “I’m just back from school—got in to Kings Cross five minutes ago!”

“You should have told me you’d be in town—”

“I would have, except for it being Petunia’s wedding tomorrow—no time for anything—”

At that, Cecilia looked around at the rest of the group for the first time.  “I’m being so rude—hello Mrs. Evans—congratulations Petunia—and is this…?”

“Yes, this is Vernon, Petunia’s fiancé,” seeing as her mother was too busy examining Cecilia’s new handbag, Lily began to make introductions for everyone in her place.  “Vernon, this is Cecilia and Tommy Cheng, and…”

“Good to meet you,” said Tommy politely, holding out his hand.  Vernon didn’t take it.  The polite smile froze on Tommy’s face.  Cecilia and her mum were still chatting, oblivious, but apprehension reared its sickening head in Lily’s chest.  Petunia was tense and silent at her elbow.  Lily could see what was about to happen as if from miles away, and was still powerless to stop it.

Vernon nodded curtly.  “Ching, is it?  Petunia’s never mentioned you.”

Lily turned to Petunia expectantly, waiting for her to explain.  “Oh,” Petunia gave an anxious giggle.  “Well, they’re more Lily’s friends than mine.”

Lily took it like a punch in the gut, but Tommy’s expression didn’t change.  “We won’t keep you, then,” he said.  He reached out and grabbed Cecilia’s arm, just above the elbow.  “Cecilia.  We’re leaving.”

“Oh—but—  Lily—”

“They’re busy,” said Tommy.  “Congratulations on your wedding, Petunia.”

“Congratulations!  Bye Lily!”

And then they were walking away.

“Shocking, the number of foreigners they’re letting in nowadays,” said Vernon jovially, hefting Lily’s trunk once again.  “Car’s just up ahead.  Got a new car for Petunia as a wedding present—she tell you that yet?  Well, I’ll tell you, it’s a good thing I don’t work in London anymore—no place to be starting a family.  Never any good, men like that…  Lay-abouts—come here and don’t work, only complain.”

“Tommy works at Queen Mary,” said Lily.  Her lips felt numb.  “He’s going to be a professor.”

“What’s that?”  Vernon turned back from opening the car, frowning at her where she was still standing on the sidewalk.

“He’s from Cokeworth.  Cecilia went to school with us.”

“Well!” Vernon chuckled, clearly unsure where this conversation was going.  “Just goes to show, then.  Foreigners everywhere these days.”  He turned back to fumble with the car keys.

“They’re my friends.”  Her voice was louder now.  Even her mother seemed to have noticed something was wrong.

“Lily,”  Petunia snapped, looking tense.  “Don’t make a scene.  Just get in the car.  I’m sure Vernon didn’t mean anything by it.”  Lily, betrayed, stared at Petunia.  They’d been her friends too.  But Petunia turned away from her accusing eyes, opening the car door pointedly and sliding in.

“Are you girls fighting already?”  Her mum’s anxious voice joined the fray.  “Oh please—not right before the wedding.”

“Come, now, Lily.”  Vernon was attempting to maintain his air of good cheer, but his frustration wasn’t entirely hidden.  “Lot of fuss about nothing, this is.  I’m sure your friend, Ching, wasn’t offended!”

“It’s Cheng—”  Lily started, but Petunia cut her off, sticking her head back out of the door.

“Lily, just get in the car!  If the flowers wilt before tomorrow, I’ll never forgive you.”

Lily squeezed over Petunia into the back seat, crushed between her sister on one side and the flowers on the other.  The cloying sent of lilies surrounded her—Petunia had chosen a fragrant variety, and in the small car it was overpowering.  “I don’t want the middle seat.  I’ll be sick.”

“Grow up, Lily,” said Petunia.  “You haven’t been sick in a car since you were a baby.  You just use it to get out of being in the middle.”

When Lily crushed some of the flowers halfway through the journey, crawling across them to be sick on the side of the road, she didn’t even feel a little bad about it.

~

By the time Lily came down for breakfast the next morning, a new crisis had distracted Petunia from how embarrassed she’d been yesterday.  She was in full swing, ranting across the kitchen table while their mother made non-committal sympathetic noises whenever Petunia left her an opening.

“Can’t make it—found a better offer’s more like!  I sent these Save the Date’s out months ago!”

“Petunia, dear, he has appendicitis,” said their mum, with the absent-minded air of someone who has said the same thing several times, and does not expect it to be any more effective this time around.

“Well, he could have planned it better.  Now there’s uneven members of the bridal party!  Who will walk with Vernon’s sister, I ask you?”

Lily took a swig of her mum’s tea before adding, helpfully, “I bet Vernon found out about you kissing him in sixth form, and poisoned him in a fit of mad jealousy.”

Petunia didn’t laugh, but she did stop talking, sitting down to glower at the seating chart in silence instead.  Lily’s mum poured herself a new cup of tea, before turning to Lily and asking, “Lily, sweetheart, this really isn’t the best time, but we’re just dying to hear how the rest of your year went!  You hardly wrote all spring…”

Lily struggled to remember the contents of her few scattered letters to her mum through April and May.  “Sorry, Mum… I got really busy.  Exams, you know?” she offered feebly.  Across the table, Petunia’s eyes narrowed, possibly at the nerve of Lily and their mum to turn the conversation topic away from the all-important proceedings of the day.

“How about that party you were going to, at least,” continued her mum, blithely unaware of how frozen Lily’s face had become.  “Was that boy you like there?”

Just that fast, Lily could feel herself collapsing like an empty puppet.  She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t make any sound come out.  All she could think about was the way blood steamed in cold night air.  The way it pulsed across her hands with every beat of his heart.  And this time she didn’t have James with her, to shake her out of the memories.

“I’m sorry,” said her mum, winking obviously at her.  “I mean, that boy you don’t care either way about.”

“Mum!” Petunia interjected loudly.  “Aren’t you supposed to be picking up the cake?”

“Oh!  Oh, of course!  The cake!”  She jumped up, flustered.  “Lily, dear, I’m so sorry, but school news will have to wait.  We have all summer!”  She gave both girls a distracted kiss on the tops of their heads, and then she was out the door in a swirl of scarves and perfume.

For the first time, Lily was grateful for Petunia’s single-minded focus on wedding preparations.  But when she raised her head and met Petunia’s steely gaze across the table, she realized she’d misjudged the situation.

“What aren’t you telling us.”  It was flat enough to barely be a question, but Petunia’s eyes made it clear that she expected an answer.  Lily had none.  She stayed silent.

Keeping quiet had been a mistake: she’d given Petunia the opening she’d been looking for to launch into her catalogue of Lily’s suspicious behavior.  “You’ve been keeping secrets all year—first about that Snape boy, which didn’t seem serious, but you’re still doing it!  And don’t think I haven’t noticed that hideous scar.  What happened at that party?”

Lily fell back on the old standby of fights with Petunia, where she argued around the point instead of addressing it.  “If you were so worried, why didn’t you say anything last summer!”

“Because I thought you’d snap out of it!  I assumed he finally got up the nerve to say something about being in love with you, and obviously you weren’t interested.  You can do much better than that—”

“What?  Snape’s not in love with me.  If he was, he…  Wait, what do you mean, ‘I can do better’?  Is this about him being poor again?  God, you’re so snobby—”

“This is about him being a creepy little freak!  And don’t change the subject.  Usually you can never shut up about school.”

“Maybe I was being considerate of you!”

Petunia laughed.  “Please.  No, you’re not.”

After a moment, Lily laughed too.  It felt normal again, like they were just having an argument over Lily eating something Petunia had been saving for later, or borrowing a shirt without asking, or sliding her dishes into the sink while Petunia was already washing them.  Mundane little things.  “No, I’m not,” she agreed.

The laughter faded, but not before it had gentled Petunia’s face.  It wasn’t an accusation when she asked again, “Lily.  What’s going on?”

And for a brief moment there, Lily considered it.  Telling the truth.  Starting from the terrible beginning through to the nightmarish end, and handing it all over to her big sister, so that she could fix it just like she used to.  She meant to say it, but when she opened her mouth, what came out was, “Do you have to marry him?”

Petunia’s patient expression froze on her face, turning rigid.  “That’s what this is about?  You don’t like Vernon?”

Lily had a lot of things she didn’t like about Vernon, but Petunia had a way of ruining her train of thought, so that all of her arguments felt little and stupid.  She couldn’t muster any of them, just hung her head and looked at the table top, while Petunia started in on a long tirade about Lily and what right she had to judge anyone.

Lily could feel her chin start to quiver—Petunia always made her cry in a particularly babyish way—but she couldn’t stop herself.  “Don’t marry him.”

“What do you expect, Lily?  What do you think this is going to get you, exactly?  I’m just going to leave him standing at the altar, in front of all our friends and family and neighbors, because you say so…”

“It’s not about them!”

“It’s not about you, either!  What’s your problem with him, anyway?  I love him and he loves me.  Don’t you want me to be happy?”

It was so much more complicated than Petunia getting to be happy.  “Pet, he’s horrible—”

Petunia’s face went white and pinched, like it did when she was trying not to cry.  “So you think I’m horrible, too.”  She stood up.  “Don’t bother with your Maid of Honor speech anymore.  Just sit in the pews with mum.”

Lily was crying in earnest now.  “Pet, no… please…  I’m sorry!”

Petunia smoothed her dress, her expression smoothing out along with it.  “Well, that will solve the problem of too few groomsmen.”  She sidestepped Lily’s hand and walked out of the kitchen.

~

Sirius didn’t make it before the ceremony started.  Lily knew that he wouldn’t—knew that was why she’d left a day early, herself—but sitting in the pew next to her weeping mother, when she should have been standing next to one of Vernon’s awful cousins in her hideous bridesmaid’s dress, was very lonely.  He didn’t make it by the time the ceremony ended, either, and when they all car-pooled back to the Evans’ for the reception he wasn’t waiting on their little porch.

“Didn’t you say you had a date for tonight?” asked her mother, innocently.

“I do,” snapped Lily, more irritated than her mum deserved.  “He’s from school—he was never going to be able to make it in time for the ceremony.  His last exam was this morning.”  Petunia, unfortunately, overheard this conversation, and was wearing her most irritating what-did-you-expect face.

At first she’d volunteered for door duty, leaping to answer it whenever it rang, but after the first dozen times that it wasn’t Sirius, she gloomily handed the task over to her mother.  Instead, Lily busied herself with refilling the punch bowl, chatting with elderly aunts who asked winkingly when it would be her turn for the altar, and clearing away crumpled napkins that their dickhead neighbors shoved into plants.  It didn’t do much to help the minutes pass—time settled in for a long, miserable crawl to the end of the party.  She’d almost given him up when she heard her mother’s exclamation from the door.

“Oh how lovely!  Lily, darling, come to the door!”

Lily dropped her plate and raced to the door, Petunia, nosy as ever, following behind in a way that she probably hoped was inconspicuous.  Sirius was framed in her doorway, wildly incongruous against the Evans’ dingy front porch, movie-star handsome in a dark muggle suit, hands full of flowers.

Lily jumped on him.  Relief to see him made her impulsive, and she’d been moving before she’d realized it.  He froze so briefly that probably only she noticed it, but then he was lifting her up off the ground in an enormous hug, skirts and flowers flying around.  He set her down with a thump, and Lily, grinning big enough to split her face, slugged him in the arm.  “Where the hell have you been!”

“Language!” said her mother, in the background.

He grinned back.  “Had to get the suit, didn’t I?”

“Girls, just look what Sirius has brought me…” her mum took the massive bouquet from Sirius’ hands, turning it so that Lily and Petunia (who was looking like she’d sucked on a lemon), could admire the blooms.

“And what did you bring me?” asked Lily.

“Myself,” said Sirius.

Lily stuck her tongue out at him.  The party suddenly felt like it had a lot more potential than it did five minutes ago.

~

“Give me a leg up, and then I’ll pull you.”

“If my mum sees us,” Lily warned, conspiratorial laughter bubbling up in her throat, “all that work you did with the flowers and the arse-kissing is going to go right out the window, you know…”

“Come on, hurry up,” said Sirius.  “The operation hinges on speed.”

“God you’re heavy.”  She staggered underneath him.  “What have you been eating, concrete?”

“I’m a growing boy.”

Sirius’ legs waved above her head for a moment before disappearing over the edge of the roof.  “Okay,” she whispered, “pull me then.”

His head popped back into view.  “Pass us up the champagne.”

“I know better than to trust you with that!  You get us both or you get nothing.”

Eventually they were situated comfortably on the roof, leaning up against the wall under Lily’s window.  Sirius popped the champagne—the cork flying off to god-knows-where—and took a generous swig before passing it over to Lily.

“I tried to sneak out this way once or twice,” she said.  But I figured I’d never be able to get back in on my own, and Petunia’s such a snitch.”

He hummed in agreement next to her.  “Tricks like this need a partner in crime.”

Lily passed the bottle back to him.  She’d never really liked champagne—the bubbles always went up her nose—but there was something about drinking it straight from the bottle that made it infinitely more delicious.  “Is this what you guys get out of breaking the rules?”

“What, a cheap buzz?  Sure.  Wish we had pot.”

“We’d never get that past Petunia.  She might not notice I’m gone, but she sure would notice that particular odor floating over her wedding reception.”  Lily scoffed.  “As if she’s never smoked up here.”

“Besides,” she added, wrinkling her nose.  “I’m supposed to be on hostess duty.”  She glanced down at the party.  The mediocre local band her mother had loyally hired was arriving, and she should really be helping them set up.

“But you are!  You’re hosting me!  And I am not easy to hostess…”

“Okay,” said Lily, settling back in next to Sirius without putting up much of a fight.  She’d really missed him.  “What are the reviews of my hostessing so far.”

“Bang up job, Evans.  Real top shelf stuff.  Only one complaint so far…”

“Don’t say there’s no pot—”

Sirius snatched the champagne back and spoke loudly over her, “There’s no! Pot!”

They made quite a dent in the bottle while Sirius caught her up on everything that had happened in the twenty-four hours she’d been away.  Something about a smuggled love potion making the rounds on the train home?  As with most of Sirius’ stories, fact and fiction were haphazardly thrown together into something entirely untrustworthy.  Before long they shifted to laying down on their stomachs, peaking over the ridgepole at the party moving below.

“The band is incredible,” said Sirius.  “Their mastery of their instruments rivals the greats.”

“The band is shite,” said Lily.  “But they went to primary school with me, so Mum can’t resist hiring them for things.”  “Plus,” she added, wincing as a particularly fervent power cord split the air, “they have the best sound system in Cokeworth.”

“A Sound System,” said Sirius, turning the words over in his mouth.  “Whatta concept.”

Lily looked at him, slapping his hands on the roof in an approximation of the beat, clove cigarette dangling precariously from his mouth as he sang along (making up his own words when he didn’t know them), and suddenly felt terribly guilty.

“You know, not everything about muggles is good,” she said abruptly.

It was apparently enough to make him stop drumming and look at her, so she sat up and turned away, sliding back against the wall of her house.  After a moment he followed, pushing himself up next to her and leaning back next to her, champagne balanced between his knees.  Lily continued, in a confused way, to try to explain herself.

“Yeah, we don’t have blood purism, but it just means we come up with other reasons to hate and kill each other.  To treat other people like they’re not worth anything.”  Next to her, Sirius was silent.  She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Stuff like where you’re from, or how dark your skin is… I mean,” she gestured wildly down at the party.  “That song they’re playing right now!”  (The band was butchering No Woman, No Cry, while people enthusiastically danced slightly off beat.)  “That’s a protest song, about poverty in Jamaica, and Bob Marley was almost killed for his work, and here they all are, playing his music and pretending not to hear any of that in it…”*  She hunched over her knees.  “We’re all hypocrites.  It’s no different from the wizarding world.  It’s just about different stuff.”

Instead of answering, Sirius held out his cigarette to her.  Lily made a repulsed face at him, and he stubbed it out on the roof, offering her the champagne instead.  She accepted but didn’t drink it, just sat holding it, feeling the solid weight of the heavy glass in her hands.

“Lily,” he said.  “James already knows that.”

She didn’t bother pretending that this wasn’t about James.  “It’s different,” she said tightly.  “It’s different knowing and… and knowing.  It’s different when it happens to you.”

“How can I ask him to…” she trailed off, hands twisting over the neck of the champagne bottle.  Her thoughts crept back to a different conversation, in a Hogwarts corridor, and she felt the guilt slide around inside her stomach.  “I don’t want him to ever know what that feels like.”

It was quiet—the band must have been taking a water break—and Sirius was quiet next to her.  She knew he was thinking of the same conversation that she was.

“I know,” he said finally.  “But it’ll be different, because he’s not going into it alone.  He has you.”  He looked at her, a rare serious expression on his face.  “Right?”

She hadn’t been alone either.  She’d had her best friend with her—her best friend who’d said it didn’t make any difference being muggle or magic.  And when she realized she didn’t have him, not really, she’d never been more alone.

She looked back at Sirius, at his now so familiar face.  The bowtie, pulled haphazardly loose around his neck, his suit jacket crumpled next to them with appalling disregard for the material.  His shoulder was warm against her, even as the evening started to cool.  “Yeah,” she said at last.  “It makes a difference.  Not being alone.”

The band came back to scattered applause and started up a turgid, laborious cover of ‘At Last’ for Petunia and Vernon to orbit the yard to.  Lily leaned her head on Sirius’ shoulder, and he didn’t put up much of a fight about it.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully.  “I think I can dance to this one.”

Lily groaned.  He grinned down at her.  “Whatta ya say, Evans?  Wanna rejoin the party?”

~

“Where did a pureblood learn to waltz?” said Lily, as Sirius spun her around the yard with astonishing competence.  “The only wizard dances I’ve seen are pattern ones—older even than this!”

“France!”

“You hate France!”

“Yeah, but dear old mum was up its arse—most purebloods are.”

“I see.  So you hated France with a passion born of experience.”

“Precisely.  They’re all obsessed with the ‘culture.’  And French purebloods are a little more modern and ‘out there’, ergo, I know more scandalous dances.  I can even tango,” he punctuated this by spinning her out dramatically.

“Prove it,” said Lily immediately upon return.  “Let’s go, right now, request ‘Fernando’—oh!”  Sirius dipped her without warning.  From her vantage point upside-down, Lily could see her mum giving her an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“Thank God you’re here,” sighed Lily as Sirius swung her back upright.  “Otherwise Mum would make me dance with all of Vernon’s horrible cousins, and all of the neighborhood boys who used to put worms in my hair.  But she won’t if she thinks I’ve trapped myself a man.”

“So what I’m hearing,” said Sirius, twirling her.  “Is that I’ve saved you from a fate worse than death, eternal gratitude, you owe me your life, you’re going to buy me my own record player, etc. etc.,”

“Yeah,” grinned Lily.  “Pretty much.”  And she wasn’t even that sarcastic when she said it.

Indian Summer

The Doors

The party was winding down—Petunia and Vernon had left, in their new car with an elaborate “Just Married!” sign that Lily had made fixed to the back.  Petunia had been glowing with happiness.  All of the shrewishness seemed melted away, however briefly, and Lily wished that she could feel an uncomplicated happiness for her sister.  Instead, she just missed her more.

The front garden was dark, with the only light coming from the electric fairy lights that Lily and her mother had strung in the hedges that morning.  As the rest of the party moved back around the house to finish things up, to eat one last slice of cake, have one last dance, Lily lingered, watching the taillights of Petunia’s new car glide away into the distance.

It curved around the cul-de-sac, past the Stevenses, at number eight, the Montgomerys, at number nine, and the new family at number ten.  Past the cars parked haphazardly on both sides of the street, evidence of the number of people still at the wedding reception.  It slowed, and at first she thought something was wrong, but it was just navigating the pothole at the end of the street, apparently as poorly maintained as it had ever been.  The car paused at the mouth of the road for a long moment, then turned and sped into the dusk out of Lily’s sight.

She looked instead at the golden lights nestled among the leaves.  Real fairies would have been nice, like they had at Hogwarts parties, but these looked beautiful too—flickering like little candles.  The wires linking them blended into the hedge in the dark, so that if she squinted it was almost as if they were floating.  She looked more closely.  They were floating—lights moving slowly and gracefully up and off of the hedge, swirling into the sky like sparks from a fire.

Transfixed, Lily stepped closer, reaching out her hand, and the lights circled her wrist and fingers in greeting.  She wondered why she wasn’t afraid—it wasn’t as if charms were common in placid little Cokeworth—but instead of fear, she felt something ease inside of her, as though she was greeting an old friend.  A fond, familiar feeling.  Lily almost laughed.  She didn’t even need to turn to know he was there.

“Hi, Potter,” she said.

“Hey.”  She did turn, then, and he stepped forward to meet her, still half-shrouded in the darkness of the street.  He released whatever charm he’d been using, and the lights settled back down into the leaves with a quiet rustle.

“Doing magic outside of school, Potter?  Be a shame to bring the ministry down on your head over one silly trick with party lights,” she said lightly.

“It’s Ma’s wand.  Said I could use it to pick up Sirius, since he’s banned from the Knight Bus…”

She could hear the band struggling gamely through a Beach Boys cover, and the rest of the party chatter and low conversation spilled out from the lighted backyard, blurring altogether in the background.  It felt just as make-believe as the floating lights had been.  None of it seemed as real as the impossible boy standing in front of her.

“Banned?  Sounds like quite a story…”

James grinned, with a flash of white teeth.  “A terribly embarrassing one, which is why I’ll save it for a time when he’s here to appreciate the telling of it.”

Caught up in looking at him, Lily forgot to respond.  It should have been stranger to see him here, half in and half out of her driveway, standing between her mom’s BMC mini** and the enchanted hedge.  She could invite him in, she thought.  She could picture it, like she’d never been able to before—James Potter, stepping around the side of her house and into her back garden.  James Potter, meeting her mother, charming her aunts, dancing with her to the middling band, eating banoffee pie off of paper napkins.

All she’d have to do was ask.

Lily glanced back over her shoulder at the party.  She thought she could pick out Sirius’ laugh from among the party chatter, as familiar as if she’d loved it all her life.

James could evidently hear him too, since he nodded in the direction of the noise.  “So how’s he been?  Behaving himself?”

“He’s been a perfect menace.”  She didn’t have to say out loud what it had meant to have Sirius, with his fierce loyalty and his terrible jokes and his new muggle suit, here with her today—James already knew.  She didn’t have to invite James in either, not tonight, anyway.  It was enough to know that he would come.

“James,” she started…

“Who’s a menace?” said Sirius, summoned from the backyard by whatever sixth sense told him that other people were having a private conversation.  He was holding a slice of cake in each hand, one of which he was eating, and the other which he held out to James, as an afterthought.

“I thought you went to get me a drink,” said Lily tartly.

“Yeah, and then I didn’t, keep up.  Prongs, are you here to spring me?”

Lily scowled at him.  “Spring you?  It’s a wedding, not prison—”

“Whatever.  Alright, Prongs, let’s blow this popsicle stand!”

“Evans, you gotta stop letting him watch American movies,” said James.  “He’s incomprehensible…”

“Don’t listen to Prongs—he’s just jealous—”

“Say, Padfoot, why don’t you tell Evans why you need a special escort and can’t just catch the Knight Bus…”

Sirius made a rude gesture, sending what was left of his cake flying.  “Sure thing, Jamie… and of course, you were forced to be that escort against your will, your parents being too old and infirm to get me themselves… nothing else going on there…”  Sirius’ words were cut off as James abruptly shoved his own slice of cake into Sirius’ laughing face, his taunts smothered by a particularly large icing rose.

Sirius thus dealt with, silence fell once again.  Now that the conversation seemed to be at an end, Lily was at a loss for a way to draw it out.  She felt, again, that things weren’t finished, and she missed, again, the space the long train ride would have provided.  A space for her to find the right words, before the summer arrived and all her chances went with it.  Chances at what?

James had hardly looked away from her face the whole time, as if he was waiting for her to say something.  Lily was waiting too!  Had been waiting for weeks—there was something on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t know what.  She wished he’d know, without her saying it.  She wished he’d tell her what it was.

Sirius made a noise as he emerged from under a mask of wedding cake, and James wrapped a threatening arm around his neck, eyes still on Lily.  “So…”

“So,” she agreed.

“I guess I’ll see you in September, Evans.”

“Yeah.  I guess.”  It felt like a horribly long time.  She cleared her throat.  “Or.  Or, you might see me sooner.”

“Might?”

“Could.  You could see me sooner.  You know, if you wanted to.  You could… drop in.”

“Drop in?”

Her cheeks were hot again, but James’ eyes were dancing with laughter.  “It’s not like you don’t know where to find me.”

“Swing by?”

“Pop in,” she smiled back at him.

“Pay a call.”

“Visit,” she said.  “You could visit.  If you like.”  There was something soft in his eyes, as he looked at her.  It was nice to know that she wouldn’t be waiting until September to see it again.

“I’ll be visiting,” said Sirius loudly.  “Rosie simply couldn’t do without me all summer.”

Lily was feeling unexpectedly benevolent, enough to ignore his insistence on calling her mother by her first name.  Or at least, she was, before James said delightedly, “Rosie?  Aww, Evans, are you all flowers?  That’s so cute!”

Lily blushed again.  Her benevolence toward Sirius vanished as quickly as it had arrived.  “Black?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Get out of my house.”

Sirius, to her surprise, wrapped her up in a slightly sticky and very overwhelming hug.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m going, Evans.  Don’t get all wound up.”

Sirius and James, loudly, slowly, and with more doubling back for forgotten items and farewells than two people should have been capable of, made their way out of the Evans’ drive and into the street.

“If you go left,” Lily instructed, “you should reach the football field—you can disapparate there.”  They gave their last, hushed goodbyes, and then they were gone, all of that noise and energy slipping away into the dark of the street.

She stood and watched the lights in the hedge, all still now and back in their places again.  The band had stopped playing; they must have finished up while she was still distracted by James and Sirius.  She could hear the guests in the back garden more clearly, making bustling, good-natured departure noises as they gathered their things, and flower arrangements, and leftovers.  Soon they would be trickling out into the front yard, and down the driveway, and into their cars.  She should really go back and help her mother, but…

Instead she stepped closer to the hedge, and gently touched one of the fairy lights with her finger, where it lay against the dark leaves.  She looked up, and into James Potter’s face, standing on the edge of the driveway.

“Potter—” she started, surprised, but before she could get his name out he’d leaned across and kissed her.

The moment stretched out around them.  Just her eyes fluttering closed, the barest touch of his fingertips underneath her chin.  His lips were warm and soft, and achingly gentle, and then it was over.  Barely even a kiss, but it left Lily as light and floaty as a soap bubble.  So that was it, she thought.  That was what I wanted to say.

She blinked at him.  His eyes were just as warm as his kiss had been.  “Bye, Lily,” he said softly.  “I’ll see you soon.”

Then he was really gone.  The sounds of the people swept back in, along with the distant rumble of the motorway.  Around Lily, the lights lifted off of the hedge again, golden and humming with magic.