I've been itching to write a Marauders fic for quite a while now, so instead of doing any work, I've been writing this.
If I manage to finish this, it'll be a really big deal - I think I'm what's clinically referred to as a chronic giver-uper. That said, I've never researched a story quite as thoroughly as this one - Mugglenet/HP Lexicon have been the best things ever in the whole world for research - so fingers crossed this baby won't die quite as soon as the others. I'm trying to make it as canon as humanly possible, so if you spot any massive anomalies please please please let me know.
All the usual legal stuff applies: I very much wish I was JK, but am not, so everything belongs to her (except the things that belong to me).
Reviews = cookies/love/rainbows and unicorns. Please feel free to be critical and nasty. The more Rita Skeeter-ish the review, the more cookies you get.
Last, but not least, I hope you enjoy!
Lily Evans was sitting at the kitchen table with her knees propped up against the edge of the table. A forgotten bowl of cereal was balanced in her lap, the cornflakes slowly disintegrating in the milk, utterly unnoticed. At first glance, there was nothing out of the ordinary about this scene. Had Mr Bennett, the nosy man who lived next door, peered into the kitchen under pretence of trimming his immaculate hedge, he would have seen a teenage girl reading a newspaper. Closer up, however, things began to get strange. The picture on the front cover of the newspaper, which took up at least a quarter of a page, showed a frazzled middle-aged man holding a hand up to shield his face from the flash of the camera. The problem was, not only was the man wearing a funny sort of dress, he also seemed to moving. The articles, too, were littered with nonsense words like muggle and Wizengamot, words that had no business being in a serious newspaper. A few adverts were flashing (actually flashing) in the corner, bearing slogans such as "Eeylops Owl Emporium Sale – Puffskeins now only 10 galleons!". Had Mr Bennett seen all of this, he would no doubt have assumed that his wife had finally driven him mad.
Luckily for Lily Evans, it was raining so hard that Mr Bennett was forced to stay inside that morning, meaning that she could read her paper without worrying about what the neighbours would think. For none of these bizarre anomalies was a trick of the mind: Lily Evans was a witch, and a very good one at that. The tip of her wand was just protruding from her dress pocket, hidden enough that her sister wouldn't make any nasty comments but close enough at hand that she felt news was not good – and it hadn't been good for a frighteningly long time. Her green eyes were moving in a blur as she skimmed the closely printed lines and she was worrying her lower lip with her teeth. The headline (Werewolf attack – Minister has 'no comment') announced the death of a small child in St Mungo's that morning after a violent werewolf incident, and although the paper hadn't said so, she was fairly certain this new tragedy was connected to the others. Lily's summer holiday had been somewhat marred by the increasing frequency of horrible events, some of which had even been reported on muggle news (although, obviously, the story had been slightly altered to protect the secret existence of wizards).
Before she could spiral into any darker contemplation of the danger the world seemed to be facing, her father and mother came into the kitchen. Robert Evans had his arm around the waist of his wife, who was giggling like a schoolgirl and blushing prettily as he whispered some sweet nothing in her ear. They caught sight of their youngest daughter and looked guilty. She rolled her eyes at their antics, but grinned as she watched them make breakfast together. She still marvelled at how in love they were, after all these years. Her mother hummed as she fried the bacon on the hob, swaying in time to the song that was playing in her head. Her father picked up the tune as he pulled the eggs from their little cardboard nests.
"Lucy in the sky-y with diamonds," he belted at the top of his voice, as he attempted to juggle the eggs. "LUCY IN THE SKY-Y WITH DIA – oh," his song was cut short as one of the eggs splattered all over the floor. Instead of berating him, Linda Evans laughed. Her laugh was so infectious that all three Evans were soon gasping for breath.
"Here, I'll take care of it," Lily said, abandoning her newspaper. Now was not the time for morose thoughts about the darkness that lay ahead, she told herself. She extracted her wand and flicked it at the yellow goo on the tiled floor, remembering to think tergeo as forcefully as she could. The floor was sparkling in the blink of an eye.
"D'you know, I think the floor's never been that clean in all the time we've lived here," her dad said with a mock-thoughtful expression. Linda hit him playfully with a spatula, before turning back to the sizzling bacon. Lily smiled again, snuggling into her dad's side as he draped his arm around her. Absentmindedly, Lily drew patterns in mid-air with a golden thread of light that faded almost as soon as it left the tip of her wand.
For a while, there was no sound other than the gentle bubbling of the bacon in the frying pan, and contentment settled across the little family. Then the door to the kitchen opened to reveal the missing Evans daughter, Petunia. Lily noted that Petunia had taken special care of her appearance that morning, wearing a new dress and having curled her hair. It meant that she was off to see her boyfriend again. Vernon Dursley was, in Lily's mind, the closest to pig a human could get: he was very round, with no neck and tiny little eyes. She could have sworn she'd even heard him oink once. He'd been officially introduced to the family at the start of the summer holidays and Lily had spent an incredibly dull evening pretending listening to him boast about his steady income and his newly acquired car, while in actual fact she'd been thinking of spells and potions. Lily berated herself, again, for thinking badly of the man. After all, her sister seemed to see something in him, although she couldn't for the life of her work out what his attraction was.
Petunia had frozen abruptly just inside the kitchen, a look of disgust twisting her pointed features as she stared at her younger sister. Lily dropped her wand hand immediately, tucking the offending object behind her back and scrutinising the floor so as to evade the horrible look on Petunia's face. Her father spoke at last, with a steely tone of determination that hadn't been present in his voice before.
"Show me that bird spell again, Lilypad." Lily looked hesitantly up at her father and then at Petunia, whose distaste was still evident. She felt her father's hand squeeze her shoulder ever so gently, and she took a deep breath.
"Avis," she said, pointing her wand directly at the ceiling. A flock of custard-yellow canaries erupted from the tip of her wand in a flurry of feathers and circled the kitchen, tweeting joyously. Lily tried not to notice the door slamming shut behind her sister, concentrating instead on causing the birds to fly in different formations. It was only when the birds began to circle her mother's head, forming a feathery halo and earning her a laugh from both of her parents, that the atmosphere returned to normal.
It didn't stay normal for very long, however. A tapping at the window, which had become a familiar sound over the years in the Evans household, announced the arrival of a post owl. Lily stood up, her heart rising in her throat when she saw the Hogwarts letter attached to the owl's leg. She hurried over to the window and let the soaking wet, bedraggled creature into the kitchen where it perched on the table and lifted its leg obligingly. Lily untied the letter and sat down heavily, her palms sweating slightly. Her father fed a crust of his toast to the owl when his wife wasn't looking, and it departed through the open window, hooting happily. Lily barely even noticed.
She slid her finger under the flap and broke the Hogwarts seal. Her heart sank in disappointment as the letter that greeted her was nothing more than the usual supplies list that the school sent every year. Annoyed at herself for having the arrogance to get her hopes up, she threw the letter down on the table where it landed with a distinctly unpaper-like clunk. Her heart did a funny celebratory dance in her chest as she reached for the previously discarded envelope and saw the second letter inside.
Dear Miss Evans,
Let me be the first to congratulate you on your appointment as Head Girl of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. As you are an exceedingly bright witch, this should have come as no surprise to you. Then again, perhaps because you are as modest as you are intelligent, you did not see this coming. In which case, surprise! Throughout your years as a pupil of Hogwarts, you have demonstrated responsibility, kindness towards others, patience and a great deal of courage. I would expect no less from a girl of your calibre. There are, naturally, still things which you must learn and which Hogwarts can still teach you (or you would not be returning to us in September), but these are few and far between. It is my hope that, in capacity of Head Girl, you will be as rewarded as you are rewardable.
You may have gleaned from the Daily Prophet and even, I am told, the muggle newspapers that the wizarding world is facing threats as never before. It is therefore doubly important that you and your fellow Head Boy put the privileges and responsibilities bestowed upon you to good use. There is nothing more important than unity in the face of great difficulty. Therefore, I would ask that you lead by example.
However, despite the darkness that might face us, there is always time for celebration. Do not let future troubles obscure present joys – there is a time and place for worrying and, for you, it has not yet come. Once again, many congratulations on an extremely merited appointment.
Yours truly,
Albus Dumbledore
P.S. It may be advisable to bring with you a set of formal dress robes this year.
Thoroughly puzzled by her headmaster's cryptic words that seemed to at once echo and assuage her greatest fears, she tipped the envelope upside-down and caught the gleaming badge that fell from it. Her mother squealed happily and her father choked on his tea as he tried simultaneously to swallow and congratulate her.
"Oh, I'm so proud of you, my little Lilypad," her mother said with a voice that was thickened by tears of joy. "Head Girl… oh!" Linda had dropped her fork on the floor and bent to pick it up. She spent a rather longer time picking it up than was usual, and Lily heard muffled sniffling from under the table. Her father, meanwhile, had picked up Dumbledore's letter and was reading it over and over again. His green eyes, exactly the same as his daughters, were shining with unshed tears of pride. Her mother emerged from under the table without the fork which she had apparently been retrieving.
"I'm going to make you your favourite breakfast!" she declared, half-rising from her chair before Lily placed a stilling hand on her arm and reminded her that she'd already eaten. "Lunch, then. In fact, we'll go to lunch in Diagon Alley and get you a present while we're there. Robert, love, go and put some clothes on."
Her father jumped up, planted a kiss on his daughter's forehead and one on his wife's mouth and ran out of the room. Lily could hear him bounding up the stairs and she shared a fond smile with her mother, who was clearing the plates and surreptitiously wiping her leaking eyes with a tea towel.
"We don't have to go to Diagon Alley, mum," Lily said as her mum poured washing up liquid over the dirty plates.
"Oh yes, we do. Only the best for my little Head Girl! Besides, it says you need dress robes – do you suppose Madame Malkin will do them?" Lily smiled at her mother's enthusiastic prattling and didn't reply; she knew that her mother was only thinking out loud. Robert tumbled into the kitchen, still doing up his shirt.
"Leave the washing up, Lindy-loo, let's go!" He grabbed his wife's hand, soapy rubber glove and all, and twirled her around the kitchen floor. Lily laughed as her father grasped her hand too and pulled her up from her chair. The three of them danced towards the kitchen door, giggling like children. It was only when they reached the foot of the stairs that they sobered up in unison.
"Should we –"
"What about –"
"Is Tuney –"
They all spoke at the same time, each asking the others the same question. What to do about Petunia? It seemed unlikely that she would want to come to the central wizarding area of London and spend an entire day submerged in magical culture. Nor would she think that Lily's appointment as Head Girl was anything to celebrate, since all mention of Hogwarts was met with frosty silence and usually the sound of a door slamming behind her as she left the room. Still, it felt wrong to be celebrating without her big sister.
For a while, the three Evans looked at one another without saying anything, each trying to read the expressions of the other two. Thankfully, their question was answered: Petunia flounced down the stairs clutching a purse. She seemed rather shocked to see her entire family frozen at the foot of the staircase, but made no comment.
"I'm meeting Vernon," she said, by way of goodbye, and shut the front door behind herself. Lily took a deep breath, which unfortunately came out as more of a snort and her parents dissolved in peals of laughter, the tension broken. The three of them piled into the car, Lily squashed in the backseat, and they hurtled off down the road towards London and Diagon Alley.
When she was sure no one was looking in her direction, Lily leant casually against the barrier that separated platforms 9 and 10 and with the reassuring sucking sensation (which would not normally be expected from a solid brick wall), she melted through and emerged on the other side. Platform 9¾ was throbbing with life as it always was on 1st September. The shining red steam engine emitted periodic puffs of steam which enveloped the families saying their last goodbyes on the platform. As usual, there were first years (who seemed to get smaller and smaller each year) clinging to their parents in floods of nervous tears. The rest of the students, however, were worming out of their mothers' grips and running off to find their friends and secure themselves a carriage.
Lily tried to suppress the pang of sadness that twisted her stomach as she surveyed the scene. Her family had said their goodbyes the previous night, unable to come to wave her off for her last year at Hogwarts. They had left early that morning to meet with Petunia's wedding planner for an appointment which Petunia assured them had accidentally been booked to coincide with Lily's return to school. Lily wasn't so sure there was anything accidental about it, especially given that the wedding wasn't until Christmas so there was an excess of time for planning it. At least, she tried to console herself, you don't have to sit through another talk of flower arrangements and amuse-bouche. It was hard for her to plaster a false smile on her face as she watched her older sister prepare to marry Vernon, a man as odiously average as his name. In fact, to Lily, the announcement had come as a shock – she hadn't known her sister was serious about him. Then again, Lily didn't exactly know much about her sister. Since her letter of acceptance to Hogwarts had arrived, Petunia had made every last effort to sever familial ties between the two of them and marrying Vernon Dursley would no doubt cut the last one. Petunia had made it very clear that she despised her freak of a sister, and now that Lily was Head Girl (or Head Freak, as Petunia saw it) she was regarded as beyond redemption.
Lily touched the smooth scarlet and gold badge in her dress pocket, drawing some sort of strength from it. It was cold and hard, not nearly as comforting as her parents' soft, warm hugs, but it was enough. She stepped out of the way as a family emerged from the barrier behind her, and went to load her trunk onto the train. Her owl, a congratulatory present from her parents that had been greatly resented by her sister, hooted softly in her cage.
"I can't let you out yet, Alida," Lily murmured close to the bars of her cage, where her little owl was staring at her reproachingly with great amber eyes. "When we get to Hogwarts, I promise. I just don't want you getting lost." Alida ruffled her feathers, affronted, and turned her back to Lily who sighed in exasperation. She boarded the train quickly, levitating her trunk behind her. Gone were the days where she had to lug the blasted thing behind her as she tried to find a carriage. She made her way to the head of the train, where the prefects' carriage was located, and stowed her belongings in the overhead rack. She was the first one to arrive, so she rummaged around in her trunk for her book and curled up on the seat by the window to wait for the others.
Gradually, prefects began to trickle in and she greeted them all with warmth. All of them were quick to congratulate her on her appointment as Head Girl, and most of them seemed unsurprised.
"Knew you'd get it," Stephen Walcroft, a sixth year Ravenclaw told her as he shook her hand. "You're top of your year by miles – there's no one better for the job than you." There was a general murmuring of assent around the carriage at his words, and Lily felt a blush of modesty rise to her cheeks. Before she could argue to the contrary, a familiar jolt caused her to stumble slightly. The train had lurched away from the station and was gathering speed. Waving families seemed to slip backwards out of view. Lily turned away from the window to face her prefects. She scanned the room for the badge that was the twin of hers unnecessarily – she knew very well that she hadn't seen it on any of the seventh year prefects. In fact, she hadn't seen Remus Lupin either. She put two and two together and assumed happily that the intelligent, modest boy had also received the appointment to Head, but was running a little late. No doubt he was caught up trying to talk Potter and Black out of yet another ridiculous, trouble-making scheme. She grimaced at the thought.
"Well, I think we ought to make a start. Remus will probably be a while in extricating himself from his…friends," she said to the carriage of attentive faces, the distaste obvious in her voice as she spoke of James Potter and Sirius Black. A few people laughed and, worryingly, she caught dreamy smiles on the faces of a few younger girls. She cleared her throat and they blushed guiltily. "There's not too much to say, really. Same drill as last year, for those of you who were here. For those of you who weren't, all you need to do is poke your head out of your carriage door every so often to check no one's hexing anyone. I'll let you all know when the first meeting is and we'll discuss everything properly there. I guess the only thing I have left to say is: welcome home!" She smiled widely and most of the prefects smiled back. A couple even whooped and clapped. She was engaged again in friendly conversation by Hector Jones, a Hufflepuff of her year who spoke to her with hesitant pride about his work experience with Gringott's over the summer. By the time the conversation drew to a close, most of the other prefects had trickled out to re-join their friends. Three girls, who had obviously been waiting outside for the meeting to finish, slipped into the warm carriage and installed themselves comfortably on the seats around the central table. Charity Burbage was re-tying the red headscarf in her brown hair, which she wore in the style of a muggle housewife. Dorcas Meadowes had already changed into her school robes, sign of her excitement to be leaving her home behind her and Mary MacDonald, a year younger than the other girls, was sitting cross-legged next to Lily, nose buried in a Vogue fashion magazine. Lily smiled fondly at her friends, leaning her head on Mary's shoulder to better read the article.
Charity broke the comfortable silence first. "Mary and/or Lils, as my resident experts on all things muggle, what do we think of me?" She stood up and twirled obligingly, displaying her denim overalls, her print shirt and her housewife-like hair. For the first time, Mary and Lily had to admit that she'd got it right. Normally, Charity overshot her attempts at muggle clothing, coming from a family of wizards who didn't exactly encourage the girl's fascination with the non-wizarding population. Last year, for instance, she'd shown up wearing a 1920s flapper dress complete with cigarette holder. Lily grinned at the memory.
"Perfect," she said to Charity, who squealed with pleasure. Mary nodded enthusiastically, and Dorcas rolled her eyes. Charity caught the movement and stuck her tongue out at the blonde girl who retaliated in kind.
"Oh, that reminds me!" Mary exclaimed, snapping the magazine shut and pulling out her wand. The other girls looked at her quizzically. "I learnt a new spell over the summer, I've been dying to try it out. Right, let me see…" The corner of her tongue poked out as she screwed up her round face in concentration. She took a deep breath and said, "Simponia!"
Muggle music filled the carriage and both Lily and Mary began to sing along, to the obvious hilarity of the other two girls who'd never heard the songs in their lives. There was no denying that the tunes weren't catchy, however, and soon all four girls were dancing around the prefects' carriage (having first drawn the blinds, of course). Maybe it was for this reason that they were utterly shocked when the door burst open to reveal one of the fifth year prefects who was utterly out of breath and looked as though he'd been trampled. He clung onto the doorframe for support while he caught enough breath to speak. Lily murmured "finite incantatem" and the music stopped.
"There's…a zoo…penguins charged me… first years said… something about a lion…" Lily nodded as he trailed off into more heavy panting, outwardly calm. Inside, however, she was livid. This bore the unmistakable mark of Potter and Black. She should have seen it coming.
"Right, lead the way," she said to the boy, and they marched off down the corridor. They didn't have to go far, however. A hippo the size of a large cat had cornered a second year and was rolling on her toes, stubby legs waving ridiculously in the air, making snorty trumpeting noises. The second year looked up at Lily pleadingly.
"It wants me to scratch its belly, but then when I stop it chews my robes until I start again. Look!" she said, showing them the hole made by tiny hippo teeth. Lily bit back a laugh (it was really rather cute) and vanished the offending animal immediately. They pressed on, vanishing three miniature elephants that were spraying pumpkin juice all over laughing fifth years. No one seemed particularly terrified by these miniature zoo animals, each no bigger than an average-sized Corgi dog, but Lily was forced to vanish them anyway. She didn't think it would be a particularly good start to her career as Head Girl if she allowed the Hogwarts Express to become a petting zoo. As she passed carriages containing prefects, she gave them instructions to vanish the rest of the animals.
"Where are you going?" Julia Sandlewood, one of the sixth year prefects, asked her as she made to push her way through a crowd of first years who were stroking a leopard.
"To find Potter," she replied through gritted teeth.
She found him, as she knew she would, in the endmost compartment of the train. He was lounging, feet up on the seat next to him, lazily drawing a monkey in thin air. The monkey solidified, dropped to the floor and ran chattering between Lily's legs. Potter, whose eyes had followed the monkey's journey across the compartment, looked up at Lily's blazing face. Peter Pettigrew, who was huddled up in the corner, sat up a little straighter as she stormed into the carriage. Black smiled lazily, as though he knew exactly what was going to happen. Remus, she noticed, had the good grace to look guilty. Not Potter, though. An expression of supreme arrogance spread across his features, and he permitted himself to run his eyes up and down her body.
"What a lovely surprise," he purred softly, running a hand through his tousled black hair in a way that he obviously thought rendered him irresistible. The only person looking at him lovingly, however, was Peter. Lily glared at him, but turned to Remus instead.
"Couldn't you have stopped them, Remus? Vanishing miniature animals is really not how I wanted to start off my year – you know Ewan McAllister got trampled by a flock of penguins? And besides, it doesn't reflect well on you if the Head Boy can't even control his friends." She was satisfied to see that Remus' look of guilt intensified. Potter, however, looked delighted. For the life of her, she couldn't work out why he had such a strange expression.
Remus coughed quietly. "Er… I'm not Head Boy." Lily was shocked, but not so shocked that she didn't notice the odd emphasis he'd place on I'm. Dread, like molten lead, trickled into her stomach. She turned to Sirius Black who shook his head with a knowing smile. Desperately, she turned to Peter, although she very well knew that Dumbledore would not have appointed him. He chortled with barely suppressed glee and, in on the joke, shook his head too. Slowly, ever so slowly, she met Potter's gaze. He grinned and held up a crimson and gold badge, the exact twin of hers. Every fibre of her body seemed to scream No! and anger bubbled up inside her. She clenched her fists tightly in a desperate effort to control herself.
"Looks like we're going to be roommates, Evans," he said with a wink. Her fingernails bit into her palms as she exercised every ounce of self-control she had to stop herself from hexing him. Instead, she turned on her heel and left, slamming the door behind her.
As she walked away, she heard the boys burst into loud laughter and Black say, "Well, she took that better than anticipated. How much do I owe you, Remus?"
"Five galleons. Told you she wouldn't hex him. Pay up!"
The Sorting and Welcome Feast over, Lily led the new first year Gryffindor students back to their dormitory. The Fat Lady smiled warmly at her.
"Congratulations, my dear. The new password is Flibbertigibbet," and with that she swung open. The first years clambered into the portrait hole with excited whispers as they took in their new surroundings. Lily looked at the familiar common room fondly, remembering the first time she'd seen it. She loved the school, which had quickly become her home, and it made her sad to think that she would not be returning next year. She'd had her last welcome feast.
"Ah, Miss Evans, there you are. If you'll come with me, I'll show you your quarters now." Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor house, did not wait to see that Lily was following, but marched away down the corridor. Lily had to jog a little to catch up. They wound their way through the corridors of the school, moving deep into the heart of the building until they emerged in a courtyard that Lily had never seen before. This was not altogether surprising, as very few people could claim they'd discovered every inch of the school. Across the courtyard, Lily could clearly see a door set in a little tower.
"Mr Potter assures me he will be able to find his own way, so no doubt he will join you shortly," McGonagall said with what Lily could have sworn was a hint of fondness in her voice. She wasn't surprised that her head of house had a soft spot for Potter – he was, after all, a superb Quidditch player who'd never lost a match. And he was excellent at Transfiguration, McGonagall's own subject. It just irritated her that even McGonagall, who wasn't known for her warmth, found the stupid boy endearing. McGonagall disappeared back into the candlelit corridors as Lily stepped into the moonlight. She crossed the cobbled courtyard quickly and began to inspect the door. It was a plain door to look at, made of worn wood. The problem was, it had no handle.
She was contemplating how to enter when a voice breathed in her ear, "Boo!" She screamed despite herself, her arm flying in the direction of the noise until it collided with something soft.
"Ouch! Bloody hell, Evans, that hurt," a familiar voice grunted in the darkness.
"Lumos," she whispered, and her wand tip glowed. The light illuminated James Potter, clutching his arm as if mortally wounded. She made a noise of annoyance at the back of her throat and turned her back to him, hating herself for having screamed in front of him. No doubt he would find a way to use that to annoy her in the future.
"So, any idea how we get in?" he asked, moving round until they were staring at the door side by side. She didn't reply, partly because she had no desire to talk to him and partly because she had no answer. Normally, the only way to access dormitories was to pronounce a password or, in the case of Ravenclaw house, answer a riddle. But they hadn't been given a password to use and in any case there didn't seem to be anything here to hear their answer, so it couldn't be a password-operated system. She put her hand against the door to try and push it open but drew it back in surprise when the area underneath it glowed with silvery light. The moment the connection between her palm and the wood was broken the light faded again and left no trace. Beside her, Potter's brows furrowed in confusion, but Lily had figured it out.
"Put your hand against the door on three." He opened his mouth to speak but she talked on. "Don't say anything, Potter, just do it. One…two…three!" Their hands came to rest on the wood which glowed again with that eerie, beautiful light. Lily couldn't help but notice that their hands were uncomfortably close – her little finger was a hair's breadth away from his thumb. Something squirmed inside her, but she was distracted as tendrils of silver metal blossomed from the wooden door, swirling together until they formed an ornate handle in the shape of a peculiar leaf that Lily did not recognise. Lily smiled triumphantly and grasped the handle. The door swung open to reveal an entrance hall, complete with coat hanger and umbrella stand, leading to a spiral staircase. Without waiting to see if Potter was behind her, Lily darted forwards and began climbing the stairs, fuelled by curiosity. The room wasn't large (nowhere near as big as the Gryffindor common room), but it was comfortably decorated. The walls were a light colour, closely matching the colour of the plush sofas and armchairs. There was a roaring fire in the grey-brick fireplace which cast a warm, flickering glow over the room. The windows overlooked the vast grounds and the lake and the bookshelves were stocked with interesting books. The armchairs were clustered around a low mahogany coffee table, upon which someone had placed a vase of calla lilies.
Potter arrived at the top of the staircase a few seconds after her and paused for a moment to take in the scene. He didn't seem as impressed as she was, presumably because he was used to much grander settings at home. To her, it felt odd that she could call this place hers and hers alone (if she concentrated hard enough on blocking Potter out). To him, no doubt, this was shabby by comparison. He paused to sniff the faintly sweet scent of the calla lilies before turning to her with a grin.
"Race you upstairs?" She rolled her eyes and, without warning, sprinted up the next flight of stairs before he'd realised she'd started to move. She could hear him thundering up the stairs behind her, drawing closer and closer, but her feet touched the landing a split second before his and she laughed triumphantly.
"For a fancy Quidditch player, you'd think you'd be faster," she taunted.
"You're a dirty cheat, Evans," he said, but his tone was more amused than bitter. She shrugged, buoyed by her victory, and began exploring the second floor. The door on the right bore her name in gilded lettering and the door on the left bore Potter's. She opened her door and gasped quietly. The walls were panelled in a duck egg blue, and the furniture and curtains were a slightly darker shade of blue. The wrought iron bed looked so inviting that she would have thrown herself down on it, had there not been one door left to explore. She gazed at her room once more, taking in the little writing desk, the bookshelves, the window seat and the balcony before closing the door almost reverently on it. Potter had finished exploring his room (which, from the glimpse she caught of it, was more extravagant than hers and decorated in shades of red and black).
Potter opened the last door, which turned out to contain a beautiful marble and mahogany bathroom. Unfortunately, the beauty of the bathroom was somewhat marred by the realisation that she would have to share it with Potter. He, apparently, had realised the same thing – when she caught his eye, he flashed her a smile that made her face hot.
"We'll, er, work out a schedule later," she said awkwardly. Potter said nothing but continued to grin suggestively like an idiot. She glared at him and hurried back to her room, tossing her flaming red hair over her shoulder as she left him standing alone in the hallway. She shut the door, murmuring a locking charm and a few anti-intruder charms just to be safe – the last thing she wanted was Potter bursting in on her in the middle of the night – and collapsed on her bed, suddenly utterly drained of energy.
It was going to be a very long year.