Author's Note: Thank you all for taking a peek at my little story. I know there have been many Marauders/James/Lily fics over time, but I hope you will enjoy mine nonetheless. First of all, I want to say that I'm very sorry if there are any typos, as I wrote the first 3/4 of this in first person, then decided it would sound much better in third, so please leave a review as to where the typo is so I am able to fix it (I also don't have a beta!). Secondly, there is a narrator in this story. I don't say who it is, and won't until the very end (which might not come for quite some time), but I just wanted to clarify. Thirdly, there seems to be no strike-through text enabled on this site anymore, so in the one instance I used it, it will instead be illustrated to you in brackets ([]). Last but not least, in the few paragraphs after the prologue, I purposely use pronouns instead of actual names, so just bear with me. Thanks.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe as it all belongs to the Queen, JK Rowling. This is my writing and my ideas, but not my characters or my world.
PROLOGUE AND SUMMER LIGHTS
(Highs and Lows Included)
If you asked anyone else, they'd say it was an epic love story. That it was one for the books. If you asked Marlene McKinnon or Sirius Black, they'd say it was the most frustrating two years of their sorry, pathetic lives. If you asked Remus Lupin or Emmeline Vance, they'd say it was beautifully written and quite possibly the most entertaining of the goings-on's at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If you asked James Potter, he'd tell it in all the over-evangelical glory that it wasn't. But, if you asked Lily Evans…well, she'd say it was merely another story. One out of millions that could, had they gotten the chance, be told so fantastically. Theirs was typical, predictable, and, in their eyes, anything but ordinary.
If you asked anyone else, they'd say it started in fifth year. If you asked Marlene McKinnon or Sirius Black, they'd say it started right before Christmas break in sixth year. If you asked Remus Lupin or Emmeline Vance, they'd promise they kept out of that sort of gossip and be kind enough to pretend it started when it actually started. If you asked James Potter, he'd say it started with Day One. But, if you asked Lily Evans, she'd say it started when it ended. Irony, it seems, is one of her stronger suits.
In other words, I could spend all day telling you what whomever would say if you were to ask which question, but I figure I'll save you that terrible fate and tell you myself. Now, you're probably thinking something along the lines of how can something start when it ends? Be patient, young readers, and pay attention, for irony may as well become a fair aquantience of yours in the future.
So, I'll start with the end…
I'm done.
The simple words intruded her thoughts as something offensive. Such a phrase of simplicity, often times used when one's mealtime has expired or the last period of an essay has been long since dotted on a crisp piece of parchment. It's hard to believe that it all began with words such as "I'm done" because, by all intents and purposes, they were expressed to do exactly the opposite.
It happened on Platform Nine and Three Quarters of Kings Cross Station in London, England, Europe, World, where witches and wizards were rummaging about searching frantically for their families or whoever it was that would take them away for summer vacation. That day had always been her least favourite of the year, the day she went from being top of the class and a respected prefect to, as her sister, Petunia, would inevitably later say, a freak. But she did not despair as that summer would be like none other. That summer would be the first of many that she would be allowed to legally use magic as she pleased—within the law, of course.
However, in that moment she wasn't looking for her parents like so many others buzzing around because Muggles weren't allowed on that side of the barrier. She wasn't basking in the fact that she was finally of age or worrying incessantly about Petunia's expected fits when she returned home for far too many weeks than she would have ever allowed, had she merely been given the choice. No, she wasn't thinking about any of that. Mostly because someone had dragged her behind a pillar and babbled on and on about this and that and she couldn't exactly remember anything of their short conversation at the moment because the stupid, impossible words "I'm done" had only just rolled painstakingly out of her conversation partner's daft mouth. Because, surely it couldn't mean what she thought it meant. Could it? As I stated before, "I'm done" could very possibly be interpreted in a number of ways.
"What," she started weakly, then cleared her throat before she forced the word out more audibly. "What?"
"I'm done," he repeated again, calm as the ocean on a windless day—which, by the way, is non-existent. The words, she soon realized, did not sound any better the second time around.
"I'm not sure I understand," she stated quietly, urging him to elaborate on this whole I'm done business.
The sigh that came from his chest was a deep one; a defeated one. "With you," he said. She had to refrain from kicking him because he was quite possibly the most elusive bloke on the planet. Her brain must have decided her body needed more blood in certain places quickly because not a second later was her heart beating as though tiny wings had sprouted from it and was given immediate commands to get the hell out of there. She was also seriously contemplating entering her stomach in the category of Gymnastics for the next Olympics because it did about five flips in a row, sticking the landing somewhere near her knees.
A laugh escaped through her lips, though she had no idea where it came from. "Not being my mate, surely," she said airily, though it was only as light because it was forced.
Her companion shook his head and set his hands atop her shoulders, stepping close enough to her that she could smell the peppermint on his breath and the slight second-hand smoke he carried around from his best mate Sirius Black. "Yes, and no," he started, eying her intensely, yet there was an uneasy expression that twitched on his pale lips. "We've made our peace, yeah?" he asked, to which she nodded slightly, unsure of whether or not the question required an answer. Of course they'd made their peace. This daft bloke standing in front of her, hunched over so she could hear him properly while his glasses sat crookedly on the bridge of his nose and the wind ruffled his hair like an invisible hand, had become one of her better friends over the past year despite it all. Much had changed in the last year, and drastic times tend to force an untimely maturation upon the fragile shoulders of teenagers. "And, Lily, know that when I say this, it doesn't mean we aren't going to be mates, it just means…what it means. You know?"
She felt the confusion scour her features, her brows pulled together in a tight furrow. "No."
Another sigh. "Right, well, then I suppose I need to explain?" It didn't seem like a question, but she ended up nodding anyway because she wanted so badly to understand whatever was going on in that thick head of his. "I'm over you." The words were forced out, she could tell, but said nothing of the sort, keeping her lips pressed tightly together. "Well, not exactly in present tense, you know, if we're being technical, but I'm working on it. Merlin, you know I fancy you, but I've decided to take this stalemate upon my own shoulders. You obviously don't reciprocate these feelings and I never really acted on the urge—I know, shut up—because you're such a bloody great mate and I really didn't want to scare you away or get you cross with me again. So, starting next year, I won't burden you with potential dates and snogs and—"
"Inappropriate trips to broom closets?" she interjected, a smile smoothing over her pursed lips. He hadn't realized his rambling.
He laughed. "Yeah, that too, although I do have to credit Sirius for half of that one. So, I'm done. Happy birthday."
She cocked an eyebrow up at him. "My birthday is in January."
He thought about this for a moment. "Then, happy belated birthday," he tried. "I don't believe I got you anything." His hands fell from her shoulders and he tapped the end of her nose with his left index finger. "You're welcome." She wasn't quite sure of what to do then as the seconds wore on, their newfound silence weighing heavily on her shoulders. So, on an impulse, though she usually refused to act on her impulses seeing as they're normally mad, she stood on the tips of her toes and wrapped her arms around her mate's neck, pulling him in to a fierce hug. She didn't normally care to admit things like this to herself, much less anyone else, but this particular mate of hers gave just about the best hugs in the world, aside from her father, and she wouldn't dream of telling him such a thing. He'd insist on meeting this bloke who gave his daughter greater-than-life hugs and on her list of Things Never To Do, that was number one. At first, the hug was sort of one-sided with her doing all the work, but after she tugged a little harder and pulled him a little closer, a sigh left his lungs on his next exhale as he wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned into the embrace. For a few brief moments, they shared the air that surrounded them and their warmth exchanged into each other, turning to a low burn before the nostalgia set in, putting the licking flames out like dirt.
"I'm going to miss you, Lily Evans," he said then, burying his face in her loose hair. The ends danced in the wind, tickling her own skin as they embraced, a spot on her neck suddenly burning from the heated air of his breath. The fingers of her right hand found their way into the mess atop his head that he had the nerve to call hair and she ran them methodically through the impossibly silky stuff, a gesture she found comforting for him and, oddly enough, herself.
"You say that as if you'll never see me again," she said lightly in an attempt to lift the heavy fog that had settled resolutely around them.
She felt his grip loosen as he pulled back enough to look into her eyes. He had nice ones, on the mahogany side of Hazel with gold specks swimming haphazardly around the iris. They were only centimeters away, close enough to breathe each other's air, close enough to kiss if one of them had moved in only the slightest bit.
"You never know," he said, "what with the brewing war and all."
"Oh, well in that case…" Once again she found herself standing on the very tips of her toes, but this time her lips caught his cheek as she pressed a kiss tenderly against it. It was the first kiss they'd ever shared, and quite possibly the one that started it all. His skin was soft—he'd just shaved that morning—and his hair smelled of cinnamon along with the second-hand smoke from Sirius. "I'll miss you, too, James Potter."
"No, Mar, he did!" Lily exclaimed into the receiver of her house phone late one Saturday night, the first one of the break. If we're being technical, it wasn't her house phone, nor was it her house. They both, of course, belonged to her parents, along with the furniture, the car, the telly, even Petunia and herself.
"I don't believe it," Marlene replied after a moment's hesitation, to which she most likely devoted the conundrum of James Potter ever in the darkest day being done with Lily Evans. "You're sure that's what he said? Positive?" It was the fourth time she'd asked the question. Lily sighed loudly into the phone, twisting the cord around her finger lazily as she laid upside down on her bed, straightening a crooked picture frame with her toes. Many things in her life seemed to be crooked lately. Picture frames, sisters, eye-glasses on certain blokes…
"Like I said before, yes. He said it twice, actually," Lily clarified. "Then he said 'I'm over you'." Which prompted yet another round of really?-yes-sure?-certainly-positive? "For Merlin's sake, Marlene I'm positive!" The enthusiastic interjection quieted Marlene long enough to recount the rest of their conversation behind that pillar on Platform Nine and Three Quarters at Kings Cross Station, London, England, Europe, World, minus the kiss, of course. There was no doubt in Lily's mind that it would be taken in the entirely wrong context and she wasn't completely sure she was ready to take the blows Marlene liked to issue to her so often. They were friendly blows, but blows nonetheless.
"It just doesn't sound like him," Marlene stated as if Lily wasn't already well aware. Then, "Do you suppose he's playing hard to get?" she asked.
"What?" Lily said in immediate response. Because she was a bit daft when it came to these sorts of things and hadn't an idea what Marlene was on about. "What does that mean?"
"Oh honestly, Lily," she sighed. Lily could clearly picture her rubbing a hand over her eyes like she did when Lily simply didn't understand Arithmancy, as if the answer was right in front of her the entire time. "You know, when someone, erm…how do I put this? When one party is interested in another party, the first party, the interested one, wants the other party's attention. So, erm, the…first party ignores the second party in hopes that they, the second party, will find the first party mysteriously intriguing or something. It's mostly a bloke thing."
"Wait," Lily said, "So the second party…no, I mean, the first party doesn't…you have successfully confused me, Mar," she told her.
Marlene sighed again. "How can someone so brilliant be so daft?"
"I can't help it!" Lily pouted, resting her feet on the headboard of the bed. "Try again." And so Marlene did, but this time she used blokes and birds instead of the first party/second party nonsense. "Oh," Lily said after a moment. "So you think James is trying to…what was it you said? Lure me into his mystical aura of mysteriousness? Doesn't sound like him." Lily knew James Potter fairly well and, well, he usually tends to go for a more straightforward approach. He's not a let's-wait-and-see-what-happens kind of bloke, but more of an I'm-going-to-make-this-happen-watch-and-learn type of bloke.
"Well, from what it sounds like," Marlene said, "this is your last—insert coins—oh, bloody hell." There was a scuffling sound coming from Marlene's end as she opened the phone booth door—her family, being purebloods, surely didn't have a phone in their house. Lily had taught her and all her stubborn glory how to use a phone booth last summer—a painful experience, to say the least. But no one can argue that it's much quicker to give someone a ring than write twenty letters back and forth. "Louie," Lily heard her say, though it sounded like she was a good distance away from the receiver. "Louie, loan me a fifty pence—insert coins—oh shut up you retched thing." There was some clinking, then, "Happy now? Merlin. Thanks, Louie. No, I'm almost done. Alright." Her voice came in clearer the next time she spoke. "Lily? You still there?"
"Who's Louie?" Lily inquired as a response.
"He's…erm," Marlene stammered, "an aquantience, I suppose. Makes a call the same time every Saturday night, Muggle, loaded with extra coins and he'll help a girl out if she's nice to him."
"How nice?" Lily wondered, a sly smile on her face she was sure Marlene could hear. It's not that Marlene was a slag, by any means, but she certainly wasn't the prude Lily was. Not that Lily was a prude, either, but…oh, bother. She's absolutely daft when it comes to things like blokes, have I mentioned that?
"Shut it," Marlene retorted. "He's like thirty. Ew."
Lily laughed. "Moving on to older men, are we?"
"Very funny. And don't try to get out of your situation, missy. We're talking about this. But, ah, it seems I don't have much time at the moment, my apologies. I'll write, okay? An owl will be at your window tomorrow, I promise. And I'll try to ring again, if I can scrounge up enough Muggle money from the streets. But, you know, I wouldn't count on it."
"Always one for honesty," Lily told her. "Thanks, Mar. Talk to you later, alright?"
"Alright," she agreed. "Ta."
"Bye." And they hung up. "Hm," Lily wondered out loud, "James Potter paying hard to get…" Because it made no sense to her. It wasn't likely for the scenario to work out in his favour, surely, but maybe he was merely running low on ideas. Still, she wasn't sure what to think of the whole thing. He did seem awfully determined to discontinue fancying her once and for all. But this was James they were talking about here.
"James Potter's doing what now?" a voice from her doorway said, startling her upright. It was her mother, of course. She was dressed in a pink silken nightgown covered by a floor length robe, the kind one usually finds at a spa of sorts. That's how her mother usually was, though, the epitome of nonchalance. With her dark hair drawn up in curlers, the slightest bit of mascara still gracing her lashes, coolness radiated from her.
Lily set the telephone back on the chest beside her bed where it belonged, not in the lap of a teenager girl it had grown so accustomed to as of late. "Confusing me," Lily told her. Her mother was someone she could tell anything to, it seemed. She never got heated or angry. She listened when you wanted her to listen and spoke when appropriate, not always taking your side but nonetheless having your best interest at heart.
"Young love," is all she said as she stared dreamily at a piece of ceiling across the way.
"Definitely not," Lily corrected, attempting to manage the blood that was fiercely crawling up her neck and into her cheeks. "We're friends, mum."
Her mother laughed lightheartedly. "So you've told me." Lily picked at a loose string on her shirt, avoiding her mother's gaze. They were nice, her eyes, steely blue, almost electric, but they seemed to have a sort of sixth sense when it came to reading others and, incidentally, Lily happened to be a very familiar piece of literature. "You should take a walk," she told Lily after a few moments spent in silence. Lily gazed quizzically at her, but she merely half-raised a shoulder and turned into the hallway. "You haven't been outside since you've been back. I think a bit of fresh air would be good for you. Besides, it's a nice night." Then she left.
Lily glanced to the clock on her bedside chest, which read 9:03 pm. It was true, what her mother had said. It had indeed been a few days, at best, that she'd chanced a visit to the outside world, excluding the morning her dad forced her to retrieve the mail—his argument being the fact that she never had to get the mail because hers came so conveniently to the kitchen window. He didn't like to admit it, but she got the feeling her father wasn't incredibly fond of owls.
It was late and predictably not as nice a night as Lily's mother had made it out to be, but she decided on a walk regardless because her mother was usually right about things and, let's face it, Lily's prone to karma-induced events. So she slipped on her rainboots and coat because even though it wasn't presently raining, small drops had been tapping against her window sporadically that day and, well, in England one never really knows when it's going to rain. Always better to be prepared, so, just in case, she grabbed an umbrella on her way out of the house.
It was relatively warm that night for that time of year, but she was indeed glad she'd chosen a slightly-more-so-than-normally insulated raincoat for the evening's endeavors because even though it wasn't raining, per se, it was misting thickly, a chilling breeze cutting disturbingly through the summer air. Her feet wound themselves down the slippery sidewalks of Cokeworth, England for a good fifteen minutes, around the abandoned mill and timeworn fishing shack before deciding to ditch the pebbled walkways and instead take on the waterlogged grass. The air smelt nice that night—they'd just cut the grass that morning—and she found herself breathing it in deeply, catching a whiff of cigarette smoke from a gentleman walking briskly in the opposite direction down the other side of the street. He looked like something of an enigma in the foggy light of the flickering streetlamps that donned the edges of the road.
Lily stopped abruptly when the street sign standing tall before her read Spinners End, the poverty-ridden neighborhood where one Severus Snape lived. In all honesty, she hadn't meant to walk there—she hadn't even started that way—but for some strange reason one would usually call habit, her feet found the familiar path where she had many times met her former best friend. The neighborhood wasn't a particularly nice one—none were, in Cokeworth—with litter strew more densely along the streets, packed into the gutter so the water had nowhere to go save the cracked cobblestone roads where it collected centimeters at a time. She didn't walk into the neighborhood, she had no desire to, and instead turned down the path that would lead her straight back to her own house not two blocks away.
However, she didn't particularly feel much like returning home, so she turned down a rocky, child-made trail she knew so well that led her right to a large willow tree, the branches hanging low like curtains, swaying slightly in the breeze. A river resided a few meters past the tree, but it was a thing of filth and smelt strongly of the dirty, black water that ran through it. Cups and wrappers and other random pieces of rubbish caught along the bank in the algae that grew there and the sight was not one she enjoyed. So she sat on a bench located a few feet or so from the overhanging branches of the willow, taking up a generous amount of space as she kicked her legs up on it and leaned back on her hands to look at the sky. Because of the smog and rain or mist or whatever the weather felt like doing that night, stars were a rare occasion. And suddenly she felt herself melting into wistful memories of the night sky at Hogwarts and how clouds rarely graced them, save during the harsh months of winter that brought the relentless snow each year. Looking at the same sky from Cokeworth was not as grand. A small cluster of stars were visible in the dense light of the moon, but it was much less satisfying than she'd expected it to be. Actually, it was a bit depressing.
Noting this and the sudden wind chill, she had only just gotten up when she heard a branch crack under what was no doubt a foot. Her head swerved on her neck abruptly toward the sound, her eyes scouring the shadows in the dark. On instinct, she felt around the inside of her coat for her wand, grasping it firmly as the smooth, familiar piece of wood met the damp skin of her palm.
"Who's there?" She asked. It came out rather timidly, her voice shaking slightly as she felt her heartbeat speed up. She was surely the only witch around for miles, but one couldn't be too cautious. If it wasn't a homeless person or someone who had every intent on robbing her, she had every right to believe it might be a death eater or possibly worse…
"Who's there?" She asked again, louder, her voice slightly more steady, but not much. She'd already begun sliding her wand from her coat when a shadow stepped out from the brush near the river. She recognized him immediately with the black hair that hung low on his shoulders, uncombed, the too-big button-up shirt that swallowed his tall, thin frame. A black leather jacket covered the shirt, and it was even bigger, scuffed and burned with holes around the elbows. He'd obviously been out there much longer than her; stray pieces of hair were plastered to his forehead and water droplets dripped onto his shoulders from the rest of it. Lily could tell he was shivering, and it took all of her willpower to not offer him her umbrella—much good that would have done, regardless.
"Evening," Severus said simply, nodding to her as if they'd just passed on the street; as if he hadn't just about given her a heart attack.
She dropped her hand from where her wand remained snugly in her coat pocket and used it to wipe away the moisture that had collected on her forehead. "Bloody hell," She said on a sigh, "you gave me a right fright. What on earth were you doing back there?"
He shrugged, stuffing his hands in the pockets of the oversized leather jacket. "Nothing, I suppose."
"Hm," she hummed, pulling a pair of gloves out of her pocket and onto her numb hands. She sniffled. "I'm sure."
"Not much of anything to do nowadays," he replied.
"Right," Lily said. She didn't much care for a heart-to-heart with Severus Snape at the moment, or ever, for that matter. "I'll just be going, then." She turned on her heel to leave before he spoke again.
"Lily, wait," he said, taking a few steps towards her, which she reciprocated by taking the exact amount of steps in the opposite direction. "So, we're…we're never going to be friends again?" Defeat dripped from the words.
She shook her head resolutely. They weren't having this conversation again. "No," she told him simply. "We're not." And she walked briskly away then. Not briskly enough, however, because not four seconds later did he catch up with her. He tried to grab for her arm, but she rounded on him, glaring and jerking the appendage out of his reach. "Stop," is all she had to say. He knew the word was loaded.
"Hold on," he told her. "Lily, I've apologized a hundred times! You're telling me you're never going to forgive me?"
"Pretty much, yeah," She said without hesitation, crossing her arms over her chest. It might sound ridiculous because people are supposed to forgive and forget, right? But, she didn't know, what he did was something that was unforgivable. It's not like she was holding a grudge or anything, either, but simply didn't want to be his friend anymore. Unfortunately, he didn't see it the same way.
"But I didn't mean—"
She waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, Sev, I've heard it all before. Now, I'd appreciate it if you left me quite alone. I need to get home. I'm tired and cold and you should be getting back as well because, frankly, you look like a very good candidate for pneumonia."
"What?" He was puzzled.
"Pneumonia," she restated. "It's where…never mind. Just, please, go home." As soon as Lily started away again, the rain picked up, droplets of water materializing from the thick fog that hung heavily on the air. She opened her umbrella and glanced over her shoulder where Severus Snape stood rooted to the spot where she'd left him only moments before, his hands in his pockets and the rain pouring down over him like it was trying to wash away his sins.
Marlene hadn't lied about sending an owl the next morning, for when Lily sat down across from her father, who was reading the morning paper that was soaked on one end, causing it to droop sadly over his bagel, a familiar tap tap tap came from against the thin glass of the kitchen window. There, Marlene's tawny brown screech owl waited patiently to be let in on the ledge of the window, a damp envelope fastened to its foot. When Lily opened the window for it, the thing hopped just inside to the counter as it had done innumerable times before, water droplets falling to the ceramic surface while she untied Marlene's letter. The ink was a bit smudged, but legible. Under the counter they kept a container of snacks for owls—they couldn't leave them out, Merlin, they'd attract attention—so she gave him some, which he nipped happily at while she read.
Lily,
This whole James thing has been itching on my mind but I regret to inform you that I have not come up with a viable hypothesis for his actions/words and therefore cannot give any [helpful] advice to you at this time. On the other hand, Emma's coming down for a weekend on the 17th and I would love it if you could pop over for a few days. Mum's having a party of sorts and I'm in desperate need of fellow teenagers to make fun of those [old coots] lovely friends of hers. Mum says hello, by the way. Think about it, will you? Save me from this inevitable torture, I beg of you.
See you in a few weeks,
Marlene
After folding the letter with new creases—Marlene was aggressively anti-symmetry—Lily informed her parents of the invitation.
"Sounds like fun," her mother answered, a silent question directed at her father. He gazed Lily's way over his soggy newspaper while she stood petting the owl's damp feathers, allowing it time to finish its snack.
"How might you go about getting from our place to hers?" he questioned. Her father disliked driving almost as much as he disliked owls. It was too far, anyway, and the Underground would only take her within miles of where she needed to end up.
"Uh, magic," she replied simply. Apparation, of course, was the most obvious answer. Besides Floo powder, but she hadn't a single grain of that.
Her dear sister Petunia waltzed into the kitchen then, groaning as she poured a cup of tea for herself, adding a generous amount of sugar cubes, if I do say so myself. "Can we please talk about anything else?" she demanded. It was all Lily could do to contain her laughter when Petunia all but spilled her drink down the front of her robe at the sight of Marlene's owl on the counter. "I'll be in my room," she stated turning vigorously on her heel and padding out of the kitchen with her tea and a muffin. The poor thing looked suffocated as it sat clenched in her sister's pale hand.
"As I was saying," Lily started again, quite used to Petunia's fuss about any mention of magic, "I'm of age now and, well, I was thinking I could just apparate."
"Ah, yes," her father nodded. "Right. Apparate. Uh, what might that be, again? The Santa Clause act with the chimneys? Because that didn't go so well last time, from what I recall…" he trailed off, but Lily knew what he meant. Over Christmas holiday she had attempted to Floo to Marlene's place, but a bit of dust got into her very fragile lungs and she sort of coughed out her destination, resulting in landing her a few fireplaces too far so that she appeared in the den of a household of fine Muggles, from the look of it. Luckily, the family must have been on vacation because the house was quite empty. She made her way quietly out and no one would have known she was ever there save for the few spots of ash that collected on the bit of carpet nearest the fireplace.
"Erm, not exactly," Lily told him. "That's the Floo network. It takes one through a series of fireplaces and…the point is, apparation is much easier. I don't know exactly how to explain it, but I just sort of spin and disappear from the place I started to reappear at the place I want to be."
He nodded again. "Interesting." The ink from the top of the newspaper had started to bleed down to the legible section, the steam coming from his tea did not help the sagging thing. "And this, uh, apparation business. It's safe?"
She nodded immediately, despite the gruesome images that popped unwarranted into her mind from serious splinching accidents during practice. "Oh, yes, very. I took my test in February and passed on the first go. It's not hard, look…" she very suddenly turned on her heel, all the while thinking of the three D's—destination, determination, deliberation—and felt the unpleasant feeling one goes through when attempting apparation, as if her body had been turned to rubber and dragged through a tight tube much too small for the entirety that was her mass. Not a mere second later, however, she appeared on the other side of the kitchen with a slight pop and smiled triumphantly at her father, who sat wide-eyed in his seat at the head of the table. Lily's mother seemed unfazed as she sipped on her tea near the stove where her kettle rested.
"See?" she said, holding her arms out and turned in a complete circle to entail to her father that she was indeed unscathed. "All limbs attached." She was smiling, but at the same time thanking her lucky stars that all her precious appendages were just that.
"Who's going to be at this party?" he asked next. Her father, always the interrogator.
She shrugged and waved the question off. "A bunch of old—erm, I mean, adults. Marlene invited Emmeline Vance, also, you remember her? Mousy brown hair, curly, short-ish, witch?" He nodded, but Lily could tell in his eyes that he hadn't a clue who this Emmeline Vance was or if she was a good influence on his daughter. "She's a prefect, like me," she told him in an attempt to sway his opinion her way. "It's a really fancy party, dad, Marlene's mum has one every year and I've heard all about it. Boring as it gets, she says, formal wear, black tie not-so-optional. I assure you it's nothing to worry about."
"Alright, then," he said, fishing his hand down his back pocket. "One last issue of discussion, though." He pulled out his wallet, searching through the bills inside. "I predict you'll be needing a dress for the occasion?"
Lily decided then that she had the best father in the world.
On the evening of June 18th, Lily found herself standing in front of Marlene's floor length mirror, looking herself over with something between awe and hesitation. She'd bought the dress, courtesy of her father—black, floor length, one shouldered—a day before with the aid of her dearest mates Marlene and Emmeline, but she was beginning to think it was a bit much. The only jewelry she donned was a thin pearl necklace that rested high on her collarbone, her earrings a matching set. Lily's hair looked a darker red than usual, done up in a French twist with a few curls hanging down by her face. Merlin, her face…
She wasn't one for much makeup, usually. It takes far too much time to put on and she always figured she could be doing something more productive with the minutes it took to coat her light lashes in mascara. But tonight, there was no arguing with Marlene as she sat Lily down in the vanity light and started what she would later call a complete-Lily-makeover. Lily was surprised that someone like Marlene would even own as much makeup and hair-styling products as she did. But one should never underestimate the power of a girl. And so she had no choice but to sit still and smile when she was told to smile, blink when she was told to blink. What felt like hours later, her back aching and her lungs complaining that all traces of oxygen in the room had been pushed entirely aside by the decidedly unhealthy amount of hairspray that settled like smog around them, Lily was finished.
"I think it's a bit much," Lily said to her reflection for the third time as Marlene put the finishing touches of blood-red paint on her own lips.
"For the thousandth time, Lil, you look great," Marlene replied automatically. Lily had reason to believe Marlene was becoming annoyed with her. "Besides, look at what I'm wearing."
She was right. She wore a red thing that fell in soft waves to the floor, a slit cut up to her right knee. The top was a sweetheart cut with thin straps and an open back, showing off her northern region in a way that would no doubt make Lily's father keel over in horror. Don't get me wrong, it looked bloody fantastic, but then again Marlene looked about twenty five years old instead of her young seventeen, especially with her blonde hair cascading in lose curls down her back.
"At least you won't be underdressed," Emmeline said from her seat on Marlene's unmade bed. She had on a navy blue dress that stopped mid-calf, tight around her top with a high neckline and fanning out from the waist. Her shoes were beige heels, strappy things that made up for her usual height. And she was right, it wasn't fancy; it was cute. But it was so incredibly Emma.
"Shut it, both of you," Marlene snapped, popping her lips after finishing a coat of gloss. "We all look fabulous and we're going to have a right good time tonight, got it? Ah, I can already taste the firewhisky…" She looked dreamily to the corner of the room, tilting her head as a smile pulled at the corners of her lips. "Anyway, we'd better go see if mum needs any help before the guests arrive."
"I'm sorry, 'we'?" Lily questioned.
The glance Marlene gave her was a rather stupid one. "Of course. We're in it together tonight, my dears."
Lily gazed to Emma, who'd stood from the mess that was Marlene's bed and now resided by her side. "I didn't sign up for this," Lily told her, a smile gracing her lips.
"When it comes to Marlene," Emma replied, "we're automatically on the VIP list."
"Glad you see it that way," Marlene quipped, strutting out of the room, her hips swinging wildly as she walked in her heels. She threw her long hair over her shoulder and sent a wink at her friends. Merlin, Marlene could go from One of the Guys to Queen of Sexy in about a minute. All she needed, it seemed, was the right getup. Quidditch robes or a formal, if not a tad slaggish, dress. A hastily pulled back pony tail or curls. Seven in the morning versus seven at night.
After asking ever-so-politely if Marlene's mother needed any help and being equally so declined, the girls ended up waiting in the den, nipping on bits of caviar—which, you know…yuck—and watching the door for the first sign of company—which arrived not ten minutes later. Marlene's family had an amazing home. The den alone was big enough to fit two of Lily's entire house. The ceiling rose almost to the height of that which belonged to the Great Hall, rafters angled with hanging ivory, candles dancing around each other in midair. The second-story balcony ran along the upper perimeter of the room, the railings decorated with gold ribbons, winding down a grand staircase that entered elegantly into the living room. Enormous doors to the back patio area remained open—the night was warm and finally felt of summer, a salty breeze blowing softly through the courtyard. Guests roamed on the freshly cut grass, sat with drinks on a fountain's ledge, some even venturing further down a worn path where the beach lay half a mile away, small waves lapping at the sand's edge.
And so the party went, though Marlene ditched answering the door after claiming her right to a paycheck at the end of the night if she was to keep that up. Needless to say, her mother relieved her from the duty. As ten o'clock rolled around, Marlene started getting a bit antsy, but for what reason Lily didn't know. She and Emmeline queried their worries to Marlene possibly a dozen times before Lily got rather tired of watching Marlene glance to the door every other second like a leprechaun would burst forth at any minute, handing a free pot of gold to the first person to spot him.
"I'll be off to the loo," Lily stated, setting her wine glass down on an end table.
"What? No," Marlene said, her head whipping to Lily, abruptly stopping her departure.
Lily laughed, not positive of the degree of Marlene's seriousness. "I'll just be right back," Lily assured her.
Marlene looked torn, glancing once more between the door that remained firmly shut, the clock on the mantel of the fireplace that read something like 10:03, and Lily. "Uh, right," she said. "Well, uh, alright then." Lily flicked an eyebrow up at her before rolling her eyes and making her way upstairs to Marlene's personal restroom. Merlin, she was an odd one at times. The question remained, though, who was she waiting so anxiously for, and why did she want Lily to be there to greet them? Three guesses as to who it would be, but Lily didn't feel much like venturing into that territory.
Upstairs, after finishing her business in the restroom, Lily took a seat in front of the vanity mirror and kicked off her shoes, resting her sore feet momentarily. The counter of the vanity consisted of beauty products she hadn't previously known existed, let alone sat long forgotten in the bedroom of one Marlene McKinnon. She rifled through a few things while sitting in the cushy chair, reading labels and ingredients even though she knew little of what the stuff was. There were a few sorts of things she recognized relatively easily—sorts every girl has, despite their lack of show—like powder, mascara, eye shadow and lip liner, but other things amazed her. For instance, primer. Who knew one needed to prime one's face before caking it with such chemicals? What did it even do? A good cold morning washing usually did it for Lily, but she supposed everyone's different.
After a few minutes of looking at the various items of makeup—don't even get her started on the hair products—Lily started to feel quite suffocated. Not her, per se, but more her skin. She took a rag to her face and rubbed a layer of makeup off, though much good it did, seeing as there were about five layers to get through before her natural skin made any sort of appearance. Even so, after working a bit at the liner of her upper lid, she felt much better; more like herself. She even put her heels back on—though she wasn't exactly elated to be five inches taller once more—and pulled herself off the vanity stool, through the throngs of thongs (there were other items, of course, but I merely like the sound of that) spread haphazardly across Marlene's floor, and out into the hallway, which also happened to double as a balcony.
There Lily stood for a moment, taking in the party in all its enchanting detail, resting her elbows upon the ledge of the railing where candles flickered romantically. She started writing a sort of poetry in her head, then, though she couldn't remember what it was and was quite positive it wasn't very good. It just felt right, standing up there gazing down at the swaying guests in their best robes, all just refraining from tipping the wine right out of their glasses to the carpeted floor. Like she was an observer of the universe, chosen in that moment to witness and nothing more. A light breeze blew through the room, fluttering around the skirts of dresses and tousling the men's nicely combed hair. Or, for some, not-so-nicely combed. One bloke with messy black hair stood just in front of Marlene and Emma, his arm draped around a smaller girl's shoulders. Her hair was a white-blonde, long and what looked to be worn naturally, falling in soft waves over a floor length, sky blue dress decked out in sequins or beads, or whatever it was that made the thing sparkle like the bloody galaxy. Another light gust of wind flew across the room, skimming the curtains and ruffling the boy's hair like…an invisible hand…
Then she thought, wait a minute. I know that hair.
And just when it came to her, Marlene had caught her eye, gesturing up to Lily with a hand to where she stood on the balcony, her moment of being an observer of the universe knocked aside when who should turn around but James Potter, dressed in his best robes, bowtie and everything—not to mention his arm around the mysterious girl. Lily returned his smile as he waved up to her, wiggling her fingers and chuckling to herself because his unruly black hair was the only thing to distinguish him from the rest of the party-goers.
"EVANS!" Her name was called by another boy who pushed her three friends and Mystery Girl out of the way, a wine glass in his hand and dark hair falling chaotically over his face. He, too, was dressed in nice robes, but they looked rather out of place on him. When Lily pictured Sirius Black, she pictured him in a black t-shirt and jeans, a smoke dangling lazily from his fingertips, not the robes he donned tonight and especially not the bowtie fastened tight around his neck. She shot him a wave as well. "Get down here!" he shouted as if it were necessary to be so boisterous at a party like this.
Lily waved him off, straightening up and making her way down the grand staircase, taking her time—the last thing she had any inkling of a desire to do was fall as she was not used to walking in heels of any kind. Eventually, she made her way down and was instantly embraced by Sirius—he was unnaturally touchy—after which he kept an arm around her, escorting her back to where the rest of her mates-plus-mystery-girl awaited her return.
"I didn't know I'd be graced with your presence tonight, Black," Lily told him.
"Nice surprise, though, isn't it?" he asked, tilting his mouth to her ear.
She sighed, a smile gracing her lips. "Whatever you say."
"Having a good summer, then?" he asked her, then snapped his fingers as if just remembering something. "Oh, that's right, you're a fun-killer when there's studying to be done."
Lily turned to look at him, her mouth open in faux offense. "How dare you?" she asked, smacking him in the stomach. "I'm not studying tonight, am I?"
He stopped them about two meters away from their group, taking his arm away and glancing around, turning in a complete circle as he looked high and low around the room. "I suppose not," he murmured. Then he shot her a mischievous grin and winked. "Let's have a bit of fun tonight, then, shall we?"
In response, Lily grabbed his half-empty wine glass and drained it, shoving it back into his hand with zeal and grinned back at him. "We shall."
"I like party-mode-Evans," Sirius announced when they returned to their mates and Girl Random. "Can we keep her?"
She laughed and shook her head, retrieving her own glass of wine she'd abandoned for the loo. "Unfortunately, she's restricted to an annual appearance."
"Annual?" Marlene repeated. "More like once a century. I've never seen you drink," she added, nodding to the glass that rested precariously between Lily's thumb and index finger.
Lily offered a shrug. "That's because I don't."
"Until tonight," Emma supplied.
Lily nodded and raised her glass. "Until tonight," she agreed, bringing the glass once again to her lips.
Someone then coughed and said, "So, no hello, then?" It was James. In Lily's defense, however, he hadn't been listening to their conversation and was instead talking in hushed tones to the girl that remained nameless.
Her best smile instantly covered her lips and she held a waving hand up. "Hello, James!" Lily greeted enthusiastically. "It's been so long, I hardly recognized you. My apologies."
"You're forgiven," he replied instantly, bowing his head to her and holding a hand over his heart. "Now that you've remembered you manners, I would do well to remember mine and introduce you to my friend. Claire, this is Lily. Lily, Claire."
"How do you do?" Lily asked, holding her hand out for Claire to shake.
"I'm good, thanks," Claire said, shaking her hand timidly. It threw Lily off a bit when Claire spoke because, well, she had an accent. Not one from Europe, either, but from…somewhere else like America. Lily hadn't met many people from The States, but she was sure she knew what one sounded like. "You?"
Lily hesitated only a second. "I'm well." Her eyes danced then to Marlene and Emma, then to James and back to Claire.
"Claire's from The States," James supplied. "New York, to be exact."
"Oh, I've heard of that," Lily said daftly before realizing the stupidity of the response. "I mean, I've never been there, but, erm…it sounds quite nice. I hear it's a lot like London."
"In some places," Claire said. "There are a lot of touristy spots I know to steer clear of, like Times Square, for instance. But, I mean, the only way to really know what it's like to live in a place is to actually live there. I guess that's what I did. See, I used to live in Texas, but once I turned eighteen, I moved to New York because it was always more appealing to me. Big cities, lots of people…I never see the same person twice, even in my regular coffee shop."
"Oh, interesting," Lily replied, because when someone starts spilling their life story all over you, there's really nothing else to do but listen and act interested, even though people rarely like hearing others talk about themselves. "So you drink hot coffee, then?" Lily asked. She'd always wanted to know because it's a rumor, sure, but the idea of hot coffee or cold tea…it was a bit unnerving.
Claire laughed, shaking her head while pieces of her hair fell smoothly over her bare shoulders. "Yeah," she said. "We're not big tea drinkers. Iced tea, all the time, but, yeah, coffee is more my thing."
"Iced tea?" Lily repeated. "I don't believe I've ever had such a thing." Her suspicions, it seems, were correct.
"Oh, it's great," Claire said. "It's really big down in Texas. Like, more popular than water, probably."
"Hm," Lily said. "Interesting."
"Yeah, I guess so," Claire replied, smiling at her. Lily wasn't sure why, I mean, Claire seemed awfully nice, but just something about her put Lily off. Maybe it was her accent, maybe it was the way she showed up there looking drop dead gorgeous while Lily had been upstairs scrubbing layers of makeup off of her face, or maybe it was the way James had his hand wrapped around her waist, his fingers methodically massaging the material of her dress ever so gently.
"So where do you go to school?" Emmeline asked, her sweet voice cutting sharply through the silence that had settled around then. Lily pulled her gaze from where James' hand rested on Claire's waist and downed her second glass of wine. Stick her with Marlene and Emma at a fancy party by themselves and she might have half a glass, but throw a few Marauders into the mix and not five minutes in she's already had two-going-on-three glasses. Oh, yes, it would be a fun night.
"Salem Witches' Institute. It's in Salem, Massachusetts, go figure. It's named after the Salem Witch Trials they held in the medieval times or something," Claire answered, messing with a strand of that bloody gorgeous hair. Merlin, Lily thought, why couldn't my hair do something like that? No, even on a good day it was always between wanting to curl or straighten so it did both and not in a good way. She felt her cheeks warm, but she didn't know if it was from the hair thing or the alcohol thing, so she sipped a little on the new glass Sirius handed to her, promising to take this one slower. Lily had no idea where he was fetching this wine from, but she was not one to argue.
"So you like it there?" Emma continued.
Claire shrugged. "Yeah, it's alright, I guess." Merlin, Americans seemed to like to guess a lot. "I've never been anywhere else except for regular public school, and it's definitely a step up from that. Not to mention it's girls only. But, hey, I'm a witch. What have I got to complain about?"
"I don't know, Voldemort?" Lily murmured into her wine.
Claire glanced at Lily, confused. "I'm sorry?"
Lily froze. She hadn't anticipated anyone to hear the remark, it just sort of…slipped out. "What?" She asked. "Oh, I said I'm cold. Getting a bit chilly, don't you think? I'll just go and fetch my shawl. Left it upstairs, I believe…" Which was an enormous lie seeing as she never had a shawl to begin with. It's just that, to be honest, Claire wasn't shaping up to be her favourite person. It may have been the fact that she drank iced tea, or that she'd compared New York to London as if they had any similarities, or her strange accent, or her breathtaking beauty, or it very well could have been James' hand resting so casually on her waist. Lily didn't know, but also didn't care to sort it all out because she hadn't the slightest clue where these feelings were coming from and she knew good and well she had no reason to be feeling like that.
However it may be, when Lily turned, the stairway wasn't where she was headed, but those nice, big, open doors to the back courtyard. The wine was making her head fuzzy and all she needed was some fresh air. Yes, fresh air would do her good. There was just one catch.
"Lil, the stairs are that way…" Marlene pointed out as Lily took a step towards her escape.
"Wha—oh, right. I said upstairs, but I meant outside." It was a lame save, she knew it, but so, it seems, did Sirius.
"Merlin, Evans," he said, shaking his head and following in her wake. "Losing shawls, daydreaming on balconies…what's gotten into you? I'd better help lest you get lost on your way back indoors."
"That's okay," Lily started, but the protest was interrupted.
"Oh, no, I insist," he said, throwing an arm over her shoulders. "Besides, I need something to drink." He then held his free hand's thumb and index finger into a gun-shape and shot it at the others along with a wink. "See you loons later." No one bothered to respond, except Marlene, who'd made an audible mhm sound, though it sounded more skeptical than anything.
It took Lily a few more gulps to get through the third glass of wine, and by the time she was finished she and Sirius were outside, exchanging the empty glass for two more full ones off the trays scurrying around close to the floor. They looked to be floating, but they were merely balancing atop the heads of the few house elves of the McKinnon family.
"So, tell me where you left this nonexistent shawl of yours so we can start pretending to look for it," Sirius said, casually sipping from his glass. He looked suave as hell doing it, too. It was as if the glass belonged there, fitting as easily between his fingers as his usual cigarette did. Lily always forgot that he, being a pureblood, was taught proper etiquette when he was younger. It seems he unconsciously retained most of the manners out of habit, though he took care to purposely act out against certain facets of it when he could.
"Really, Sirius, I just need some air. You can go back inside, I'll be there in a minute," Lily told him in the hopes that he would take it and leave the situation alone. She should have known better.
"Are you kidding?" he asked, looking imploringly at her. "I can't go back in there, I'll be sick."
She stopped walking then. "Why?"
His arm slid off her shoulder as he took a step back to face her properly, brushing a few strands of hair out of his eyes. "You think you're the only one bothered by how James is acting with that Claire girl?" he asked.
There was part of her that wanted to deny the fact wholeheartedly, but there was an even bigger part that was bothered. Besides, once Sirius started on something like this, it was hard to get him to talk about anything else. "Yeah, about that," Lily said instead. "Who is she, anyway?"
"Like I know," he scoffed, glancing menacingly in the direction they'd come from.
"You know more than me," she told him. "How'd they meet?"
"James went with his dad to The States two weeks back. Ministry work or something, I'm not sure," he added when she'd raised her eyebrows in question. "And, well, you know James. He likes exploring new places, so of course he runs off and meets this bird who shows him the town, if not a good time. She showed up yesterday at the manor—"
"Wait," Lily cut him off. "Manor?"
"Yeah, the Potter's place," he explained briefly. "Anyway, apparently he'd invited her and, well, the Potters…they're not the kind of people who say no to things like that. So, here she is."
"And…" she started, hesitant to ask her next question, though she hadn't an idea what she had to be nervous for. "They're together, then?"
"Seems like it," Sirius replied grudgingly, a grimace overtaking the usual smirk that liked to hang around his lips.
"What, you don't like her?" Lily questioned.
"So?" he shot back. "You don't like her either."
"Well, I mean, I don't really know her…"
"Yeah," he caught the trailing end of her sentence with his own words. "Well, me neither. But I do know one thing."
Lily raised an eyebrow as well as the glass to her lips. "And what's that?"
"That stuff he said to you, on the platform? That's bullshit."
"I don't know…" she told him truthfully, torn between her desire to believe the words or to let them sink in. They hit her skin, sizzling like water on the burning flames until what was left was not coal, but ash. "He sounded pretty serious." The words curled off her tongue like the tail end of smoke fumes from charred cinders.
"And so you're going to let him trounce around with the first bird he can pick up?" The question shot out of his mouth harshly, a glare cutting into Lily.
She returned the look. "What are you implying?"
"Don't play daft, Evans," he said.
"Well, then maybe I can clear some things up for you," Lily told him, draining her fourth glass of wine in the last half hour—this couldn't end well. "James Potter is welcome to do what he wants, when he wants, with whomever he wants. I have no romantic feeling for him, and apparently he doesn't for me anymore, either. Maybe he did before, but he's made it perfectly clear that he's done."
"And you believe him?" Sirius questioned.
"Yes," she answered, "as a matter of fact, I do. And you would do well to respect his decision."
He scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. "Oh, I respect it all right. I just don't agree with it, that's all."
"And why not?" she asked.
This time, however, he merely shrugged. "You have your reasons, I have mine." The fire was gone completely now, not a lick of heat left in either of them.
"Well, my reasons just so happen to require my early retirement from these dreadful heels," Lily told him, kicking off the shoes and picking them up by the index and middle fingers of one hand. "I'm going on a walk."
"Stay out of trouble," Sirius said, his smirk returning flawlessly to his mouth as he sent a wink her way.
"You know me," she replied, the left corner of her lip quirking up in a smile of her own. "Sometimes I just can't resist."
So Sirius turned and Lily turned and they went their separate ways; him back to the ones who awaited them inside, Lily to the worn path that would lead her down to the sands and waves and salt. It only took a few minutes to get there, the bottom of her dress hiked up in one hand, her shoes in the other. She kept walking when her feet hit the warm, slippery sand, the granules wedging themselves between her toes and the crevices of her feet. The water was cold when it licked her skin, but she welcomed the feeling as goose bumps crawled up her legs, sending a shiver down her spine.
Somewhere along the shore, Lily discarded her shoes completely and wandered out into the freezing ocean until her dress was hitched up by her thighs and the waves were testing their limits under her kneecaps. It was a windy night, as all were down on the beach, and the air currents reached themselves between the fine tresses of her hair, tugging pieces free and allowing them to fall over her face and flap around the base of her neck. Before Lily knew what she was doing, she bunched the better half of her dress in one hand and the other found its way to her hair, picking out the pins and letting them drop into the water with soft plunking sounds that were swallowed up by the wind.
Her hair finally freed, it roared around her as the air played with the ends as though it had invisible strings manned by a puppet master. She basked in the sounds of the ocean, running her tongue over the salty residue the air had left on her lips. Her head felt fuzzy, but a better kind of distortion now that she was quite alone down in the water, the lower half of her legs slowly numbing in the current.
Lily didn't know how long she stood like that, facing the unforgiving vastness that was the coast, miles upon miles of crystal blue water stretching along the earth's surface, being held together by nothing more than gravity itself. And all of a sudden, it seemed unfair.
If, in that moment, she'd been asked what exactly was unfair about such a beautiful ordeal, she wouldn't have known what to say. She hadn't known why she felt the tears prickling against the ducts of her eyelids, she hadn't even known what it was that was so imbalanced. Lily felt small in that moment. Smaller than she'd ever felt, gazing across the sea into nothingness. Not half an hour before was she an observer of the universe, dreadful stanzas tangling in and out through the bends of her mind as she watched the world turn underneath her.
Lily wanted nothing more than to close her eyes—which she did—and fall back into the water—which she didn't. She wanted it to open its unforgiving arms and pull her into its depth where it was dark and cold and airless. But the wind was too choppy and the water was too stony and her father had bought her dress with his own money. So she opened her eyes and waded back to the shore, where the dry sand stuck all too willingly to her dampened feet.
Up and down the shoreline danced the light of a few wands—couples strolling on the damp sand, stooping every now and then to point something or another out the other. Possibly a shell, or a small crab. Lily felt her own wand tucked away safely against her thigh, but she had no urge to pull it from its spot. She was safe there, in the dark with the sea standing guard at her back, broad and all-encompassing.
She didn't know how much time had passed as she wandered aimlessly around in the sand, kicking the little dunes that disintegrated as the wind carried them further down the beach until they were caught again by the other mounds. Eventually, the sand shed from her ankles as it dried, and she didn't walk out into the water again.
The sound of laughter pulled her out of her reverie, and she turned her head to see five figures no longer clothed in evening wear skipping happily towards her. Alright, it was Marlene and Sirius who were doing the skipping, a bottle dangling precariously from Sirius's hand as the liquid inside sloshed about with each jump. Emma, James, and Claire walked more calmly behind them, a lump of something tucked safely under Emma's arm.
Lily felt oddly out of place in her dress, sand still partially stuck to the bare part of her legs. Marlene and Sirius were singing incoherently to what sounded like Love Me Tender, though I don't think they particularly knew how it went. By the look of it, they'd had a few more glasses of wine than Lily.
"I figured you'd want to change," Emma said to her as she approached, untucking the lump of what happened to be Lily's clothing from under her arm.
"You're a saint," Lily told her, taking the offering generously. But before she could get away to change with a little privacy, Sirius seemed to notice her presence.
"Evans!" he cried, standing—swaying—a few meters away as his arms opened wide. "Where you going?"
"What, you expect me to stay in this all night?" she replied, gesturing to the dress that was still balled up in her hand.
He dropped his arms. "Then by all means, take it off." The bottle set safely in the sand, Sirius suddenly threw off his upper portion of clothing—shirt, sweater, all of it—and his hands ventured to his waist to work at the buttons on his jeans.
"None of that, now," James piped in, but not before Sirius kicked his trousers off, covering them in sand as he stumbled over the small dunes.
"What's wrong, James?" Marlene asked innocently, undoing the buttons of her own shirt—Merlin, when did she lose her pants? "Don't you fancy a swim?"
Emma laughed from Lily's left. "Are you joking? You'll catch pneumonia."
"Yeah, the water's freezing," Lily added in the hopes Marlene would refrain from undoing the last button of her shirt. The wind blew it open, a plain black bra resting just underneath.
In response to Lily's statement, Sirius ran to the edge of the shore where current pushed the waves onto the sand, each time higher than the last, and pulling them back out once more into the raw undertow. How exhausting it must be, to be the ocean. Always pushing and being pushed, pulling and being pulled. Like a constant battle within itself, stretching thin across the beach and seeping into the sand before returning to its body. A body that always beckons it to come back. How tediously consistent.
Maybe that, Lily thought, was the unfairness of it all.
"It's not that bad," Sirius stated, walking along the shoreline where the water touched his bare feet gently before retreating. That's far enough, the ocean was saying. Come back to me, now.
"What do you think, McKinnon?" he asked Marlene, who was now strolling to meet him in nothing but underwear.
Marlene stuck her toe gingerly into the water. "I've felt colder," is all she said before Sirius swept her from her feet and toted her into the water, a wave enveloping her as he let her go in the waist-deep water. She screamed as she was submerged into the cold, emerging with laughter bubbling from her slightly drunken lips.
"Who's next?" Sirius yelled as he came charging for the rest of his friends. They scattered, Lily clutching her clothes tightly in one hand, her dress and shoes in the other. She needed to get to a safe place to change and, preferably, hide. She, in fact, didn't fancy a swim.
She found a mostly secluded group of bushes behind one of the larger dunes near where the sand faded into grass. Fairly certain that she wasn't being followed, she stripped her dress off in one quick motion and slipped a bra over her exposed chest. And suddenly, she was pulled into a tight, wet, unforgiving embrace from behind as Marlene's shrill laughter echoed painfully in her ears.
"I got one, Black!" She yelled as she lugged a struggling Lily up the dune and closer to the beach, one foot stuck in the pocket of the jeans she'd been pulling on before the attack.
"Marlene, seriously, let me go!" Lily begged, fighting Marlene's surprisingly strong grip. She spotted James crouched in the tall grass behind some rocks off to her right, and she yelled for him. "Potter, you worthless prat, help me!" Their eyes connected and he shook his head, a characteristic gleam in his eye as the right corner of his mouth perked up into a smirk. He held a finger up to his mouth.
"You're rubbish!" Lily screamed, desperation evident even through the euphoria in her voice. "Emma! Help! You're all horrible! I'm gonna—no. Black, don't you dare. You stay away from—Ahh!"
Sirius had picked up her feet, him and Marlene hauling her along as she kicked and screamed, trying desperately to get away from them because, Merlin, that water was cold and she didn't appreciate the pre-show she was getting from the water dripping off of Marlene's soaked hair.
"I hate you, I hate you all!" She hollered as they waded into the water, the ocean licking her back, sending waves of shock down her body. "Don't you dare. No, pick me up, pick me up!"
"What was that?" Marlene asked, feigning confusion as she looked down amusingly at her distressed friend. "I thought you wanted us to let you go?"
"Yeah," Sirius agreed as Lily arched her back away from the reaching waves. "A bit contradicting, don't you think?"
"I hate—" was all she got out before, as if on cue, Sirius and Marlene dropped her at exactly the same time. The water wasn't that deep, but it was just as cold, and Lily's breath caught in her chest as it engulfed her, the cold seeping into her veins and twisting through her body. She was going to kill them all. But before she could detail her plan that so far consisted of four causalities, she was gripped tightly and hauled out of the water. She arose sputtering and coughing, her breath coming back to her, but almost leaving equally as quickly. The surface was no kinder, and the wind cut through her skin like icicles.
Assuming the arm that grabbed her belonged to Sirius, Lily punched him in the shoulder. Hard, muttering, "You bloody little piece of—"
She didn't finish the thought, because it wasn't Sirius on the receiving end of her punch. It was James, as she figured when he made an exclamation at her violence.
"Hey! That's no way to treat your rescuer," he said, almost dropping her back into the water. Lily's vision cleared, adjusting once more to the dark, and what she saw was James, gasses askew and speckled with bits of water, standing shirtless in front of her, his hands grasping her wrist and—dear lord—then her waist as a wave threatened to knock them over.
It was the first time she'd ever seen him without a shirt and—holy mother of Merlin. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the toned area, not able to convince herself it was from merely Quidditch, which for some odd reason triggered the imaginative center of her brain and she couldn't stop picturing him doing pull-ups and…it wasn't good. The warmth from his hands was seeping back into her bloodstream, replacing the icy sheath that covered the inside of her bones. Had she been paying attention, she'd have noticed the strain James was putting on his eyes, keeping them from wandering anywhere south of her face. She would have noticed that he wasn't breathing properly, a blush creeping onto his freckled cheeks. What Lily did notice, however, was how close they were standing then, reminding her awfully of their last conversation and this feeling started boiling in the base of her stomach.
I'm done.
The words flamed in her mind and she tugged herself out of his grip.
"Right, uh, thanks," she said, diverting her gaze back to the beach where Sirius and Marlene were back to singing their drunken rendition of Love Me Tender. Chills covered every inch of her skin as the wind whipped between them. Emma was walking back over a dune where she'd found cover, talking with Claire, the both of them towing bits of driftwood and kindling to the beach to prepare a campfire. Rolled up blankets had appeared sometime during all the excitement, scattered haphazardly across the stretch of sand they were occupying.
"Though I wouldn't have needed rescuing if you'd only helped me when I asked," Lily told James bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. It was then that she realized how exposed she was—wearing only a sports bra and all-too-revealing underwear. Fuming, she turned and stomped angrily up to the beach, droplets of water like little needles against her skin.
"What fun would that have been?" James teased, giving her a little shove on the shoulder from behind. Lily reciprocated the gesture by turning and pushing at his chest as forcefully as she could, reveling in his surprise as he tumbled back into the shallows where the dregs of waves had been inching forward as the tide continued to change. She ignored, though, the feel of his skin under her fingers, the muscles and the warmth of his chest.
Instead, she smiled as he fell back into the water, and Lily took off towards the beach, grabbing a rolled-up blanket when she got there and wrapped it around her shoulders, shivers racking her body.
"That wasn't very nice," James grumbled when he made his way up to where the rest of them resided on the sand, grabbing a blanket of his own and glaring at Lily, who refused to meet his eyes.
Emma and Claire dropped the driftwood into a pile, Sirius and Marlene howling, "Love me tender, love me long, take me…" and trailing off when they didn't know the words, filling the missing lines with laughter and gibberish.
"And shut up, you two. That's horrible, just horrible," James continued, kicking some sand at where the two drunkards were lying. They hadn't bothered to dry off, the fine grains sticking to all the places that touched the sand—which was pretty much everywhere.
"Prongs," Sirius said suddenly, sitting up and looking dead at James.
"What, mate?" he asked, cleaning his glasses off with the blanket and shoving them back onto his face. Emma took out her wand and started the little campfire.
"Get on my level," he said, collapsing back into a fit of uncontrollable, intoxicated laughter and holding the half-empty bottle of firewhisky out to James. He shook his head, a smile on his lips as he glanced towards Claire, who had taken it upon herself to unfold another blanket and settle comfortably on top of it.
"This isn't a regular thing," James reassured her, which was an incredible lie. With that, he snatched the bottle from Sirius and plopped down next to her—awfully close, but was anyone really paying attention to that detail?
The answer is yes, but I won't dredge too much into that.
James took a swig, and they all passed the bottle around after that. The firewhisky warmed them, churning a fire in their stomachs. It left a cinnamon residue on their lips, a pleasantly sour taste on their tongues. Even Emmeline Vance drank—granted, not as much as Sirius or even Lily, but she drank nonetheless.
It was a peaceful night, and they didn't talk much as they finished the bottle, listening to the waves as the tide pushed them further and further out, but always returning. Don't go too far, the sea was saying. Come back. Come back to me. And they always did.
"I wish Moony an' Wormtail were here," James said, eyes drooping and words slurring together as the whiskey worked its magic.
"Agreed," Sirius said, his earlier enthusiasm gone as the fatigue set in. "I miss Moony's crappy sense of humor. An' Wormy's awkwardness."
"He's so awkward," James consented lazily, half-committed to the syllables.
"Do you mind me asking," Claire started, pausing in her task of drawing in the sand with a thin stick, "how you came across those nicknames?"
Naturally, Marlene, Emma, and Lily groaned. They'd been asking themselves the same question for years. By now, they'd figured that their dear friend, Remus Lupin, had been graced with the unfortunate fate of lycanthropy. Their theory hadn't been proven, but truthfully, it didn't exactly take a genius to figure the whole thing out. Missing during the days after a full moon, the scars, hell even the bloody name Moony. How obvious, Lily once wondered, could they have been?
"They won't tell, don't bother," Marlene answered.
"Top secret stuff, that," Emma supplied.
"We've been trying to get it out of them for years. Believe me," Lily interjected. "They're never going to tell us."
"Well," Sirius cut in. "That's not entirely true." He eyed Lily. "You remember our deal."
Lily returned his wink with a stony gaze. As stony as she could manage, at least. The alcohol had done a number on her focus. "Like I said, they're never going to tell us."
"There was a deal?" Claire asked, intrigued. "What was it?"
Lily sighed. "It was stupid."
"Okay, whoa now," Sirius said, holding his hands up in mock defense. "First of all, it's not stupid. And second of all, it's an 'is', not a 'was'. Still on the table, way I see it."
"Well let's hear it," Claire pressed.
"I don't know if that's necessary," James added. "Like Evans said, it was stupid."
"It is not stupid," Sirius exclaimed, offended now. "The deal was that if Evans would just go out with Prongs already, we'd let them in on our dirty little secrets."
James slapped a hand over his eyes as Claire processed the words, saying, "Oh. Wait, so—so you two—" She was gesturing between James and Lily, but was instantly cut off.
"No," Lily said, her head still spinning from the last drink. "No, no, no. Definitely not. No…no."
James sat up and sent her a glare. "That was an awful lot of no's, Evans," he said. "Am I that bad?"
"Yes," Lily said. "Yes you are." Then, to Claire, "But, you know, that's just me. He gets clingy," she added in a stage whisper, her hand held up to funnel the words out.
"I do not!" James defended. He turned to Claire. "I don't." She laughed, patting his arm.
"Oh, yes you do!" Marlene added. "You used to doodle your bloody initials—oomph! What was that for?" James had thrown a shoe at her in a desperate attempt to shut her up.
"That was a long time ago," James tried to explain to Claire, his face turning a flushed pink in the firelight.
Sirius laughed. "Your latest Transfiguration exam begs to differ!"
"You lot are bloody ridiculous," James stated, standing suddenly, thoroughly humiliated. "I need a walk."
"Awe, you embarrassed him, Black!" Marlene stated, slapping Sirius upside the head. "Why are you so mean to your mates? It's a miracle you have any to begin with."
"Me?" Sirius asked indignantly, sitting up from where he'd been resting on Marlene's lap. "You brought it up." James kicked sand their way as he passed, fuming. "Don't be like that, Prongsy!" He turned to Claire then, who looked utterly stunned by the whole ordeal. "He'll be back. Gets easily embarrassed."
Lily felt her stomach clench as she watched James stroll angrily down the beach. They'd changed before it got too cool, and James was nearing the water without bothering to roll up the bottoms of his jeans, his hands stuffed resolutely into the pockets. She'd experienced a flustered James before, but this seemed different. He wasn't merely ruffled—the way he used to get when Sirius had poked fun at him whilst attempting to flirt with Lily—he was downright irritated.
It was strangely irksome.
Without a word, Lily got to her feet, still a bit lightheaded from the aftereffects of the whisky, and followed in James' wake down the beach. He'd found an old piece of driftwood and with it was shooing a stray crab into the water.
"They were just having a laugh, you know," Lily told him.
James laughed humorlessly. "At my expense." He drilled the piece of wood into the soft sand.
"When is he not having a laugh at someone's expense?" she tried. "You of all people shouldn't be bothered. You've known him for six years."
James sighed. "It's not that," he said. "It's—it's nothing. I mean, the one time I—I don't know…" he trailed off. He stood with his back to her, one hand on his neck and one in his pocket.
"It's Claire," Lily supplied. "Isn't it?" She hadn't said it accusingly, but that it was merely a fact.
He turned to face her then, but it was too dark to make out anything written plainly in the features of his face.
"I'm trying," is what he said. It was all he had to say, for something to change in Lily. "I really am."
"I know," she replied.
She ignored the tide inside her as it rolled in, the icy water chilling her being and racking something deep in her chest. She didn't know what she felt at that moment—if it was the unfairness, the exhaustion, the unprecedented encompassment that was life. It was taken by the tide, the pushing and pulling and the come back's and the undertow that dragged away bits and pieces of mind she'd tried holding onto for too long. Like the sand in the little dunes, trying, grabbing for a hold on this dry earth only to be picked up unwillingly and blown back into the water.
"It's okay," she told him, reaching out for his arm. She didn't know if she was making things better or worse, but she simply didn't care either way. She pulled him into an embrace, and this time he didn't hesitate. Because she was like the whisky and he was like an alcoholic. His arms were strong, and she was warm despite the ocean as it swayed inside her.
I'm done.
The words were there again, but were disregarded as the farewell was set anew in both of them.
There was something that couldn't be held back in James any longer, and it slipped from his lips as he held Lily. Accidentally, of course. But it was picked up by the wind, carried out into the vastness of the coast and possibly lost forever in a labyrinth of nothingness.
It was okay, though. Because all the while his voice was carried, drawn away to where he could only hope it was kept safely, the ocean was talking. Whispering. Or maybe it was shouting, horse and worn by the time it reached them. Shattered.
Lily heard it.
James heard it.
And maybe it was all either of them needed to hear.
Come back, it said. Come back to me.
So, I hope you enjoyed my little drabble. I'm planning on making it a whole Marauders story, but there's no guarantee on anything. Thanks for stopping by though, I really appreciate it. I'm open to constructive criticism, so don't hesitate to leave a comment in the reviews. I love hearing back from my readers.
Until next time (though who knows when that might be?),
-LiterallyLiterary