The Lily Evans Guide to Financial Success!

By The Kat

Chapter One: Old Habits Die Hard

"Most of us adore spending. I myself have been known to pick up an extra pack of Drooble's Best every now and then. But there must be a limit. For example, purchasing a bag of newt tails is positively essential- one needs them for everyday uses. However, purchasing a year's supply of Fizzing Whizbees-- not so essential."

-Lily Evans, A Guide to Financial Success

"Padfoot! PADFOOT!" James Potter was waving his friend over excitedly, slapping the front page of the Prophet's classified section in glee.

James' taller companion passed by, a cup of tea in one hand, wand in the other, tie between his teeth, and a plate of buttered wheat toast hovering obediently behind him. "What?" He groaned, his disinterest audible even through the mouthful of striped fabric.

"Get. A load. Of this." James held out the wrinkled page for his friend. "Sirius, for only six monthly installments, I can own a year's worth of Fizzing Whizbees! Isn't that brilliant?"

"That's excellent, James." Sirius took a bite of toast and began putting on his tie in front of the cracked mirror on his wall. "And what exactly are you going to do with all of those? You aren't fifteen anymore."

James pouted a moment. "Well...for nostalgia's sake, I suppose."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "You know, for a twenty-year-old wizard, one could swear you were just putting on the bleeding sorting hat. Look, I've got to be off. Some of us have careers."

James waved Sirius off with a hand, still absorbed with the adverts. "Pick me up one of those sandwiches on your way home."

"Yes, James," Sirius rolled his eyes as he tossed in a pinch of Floo Powder, "darling of mine." And he disappeared into the green flame, leaving only a wisp of smoke and ash.

James continued to flip through the pages of the Prophet. He stopped short at the Galleons section and frowned. Gazing back at him with a winning grin was an elegantly dressed redheaded witch. The headline beside her read, "ASK LILY- A New Weekly Column by the Famed Financial Expert, Lily Evans." Her teeth sparkled and she winked.

James snarled and crumpled up the paper. Was he ever going to escape her? Now that she was some big shot, he was seeing her sodding face everywhere!

Suddenly the door buzzed. James reluctantly dropped the Prophet and sauntered over to answer it. A tall, slender blonde with a pointed nose greeted him. Her hair was wrapped tightly in a bun, and her blue eyes were sharp, examining him with distaste.

"Hello Astrid," James sighed and flopped down on the couch, opening up a magazine.

"James," she said stiffly. "Don't you have a home?"

"They don't want me." He flipped a page. "Is there something you needed? A soul, perhaps?"

"Well aren't you a punch in the gut?" She shot him an icy glare. "Is Remus here?"

"Of course. He's asleep. What do you want with him?" James frowned.

"Hilarious. Really. You're too funny." Astrid lifted her designer heel to step over something sticky and melting into the shag carpet. "Ugh. REMUS!"

Just then, a tubby young man rounded the corner and went straight to the kitchen. "Astrid," he nodded on his way, not bothering to stop.

"Peter," Astrid said primly. "I don't suppose you could tell me where my fiancé is?"

Peter didn't respond. He was slamming drawers and rummaging through cupboards. "James. JAMES!" He yelled irately. "Did you eat the last of the bloody cereal again?"

James frowned from his spot on the couch. "I told you I'd replace it."

"That was three months ago!" Peter had re-emerged from the kitchen, and was fuming, red in the face.

Astrid was getting quite fed up. "Excuse me-"

"Look, I said I'd do it, and I will!" James stood up.

"Cuz it's not like you don't have the money," Peter mumbled.

"What was that, mate?" James growled, throwing the magazine down on the couch.

"I said you've got plenty of money. Some of us aren't trust fund babies, and yet you still bloody mooch off us!" Peter yelled.

"Well some of us feel that friendship equals sharing!"

"Sharing requires sharing back, Prongs!"

The door to a bedroom creaked open just then and a shaggy, sandy-haired young man shuffled out, massaging his temples. "What is all the racket about?" he groaned.

"Remus, James has to go. Now," Peter said.

"What? Please, this is ridiculous." James folded his arms.

"Yes," Astrid interrupted, strolling lithely over to Remus, whom she immediately wrapped her arms around adoringly. "It is ridiculous. So thank goodness you've arrived so we can leave, darling."

Remus smiled weakly and accepted her kiss on the cheek. "Look, I've got to dress and go. Astrid and I have an appointment with the confection shop for cake tasting."

"Mmm, cake," Peter said sarcastically, "That sounds delicious. I'm starving here, since, you know, Prongs here has eaten us out of house and bloody home."

"I haven't!" James yelled. "That's it. FINE. You want me out? I'm gone! Good luck finding another friend who'll get you Rowdy Ridgeback tickets!" He threw on his cloak and tossed a fist-full of Floo Powder into the fireplace.

As he was disappearing into the green flame, he could hear Peter yelling, "Good! I hate their new singer anyway...!" But the words swirled into darkness and the deafening beat of the flames drummed against his skull as he tumbled past unidentified hearths.

At last, he tumbled out of the fire into a fabulously extravagant Great Room and dusted himself off.

James helped himself to a chocolate truffle in one of the crystal dishes on an end table as he plodded down the marble hallway. He finally reached his bedroom where he plopped down comfortably onto his four-poster. He sank lovingly into the feather blankets and pulled out one of his Quidditch magazines. The Wasps whizzed across the cover, and two of the teammates began fighting. One ripped off the other's gear and tossed him off the broom.

James sighed. "If only…" His dream had always been to be a Quidditch player. He had it all worked out. His father had contacts with the coaches of several teams, the Wasps being one. If James could simply work his way into a practice, the coach would ask if he'd like to take a spin on the Cleansweep, he'd blow them all away with his Chaser skills, and, well…the rest would be history.

He grinned to himself, but the smile quickly faded. Of course, that was all only possible if his father chose to contact the coaches. Which he would do only when Merlin rose from the dead.

"Master Potter?" a deadpan voice travelled through the thick, hand-carved wooden door.

"Yes, Billings?" he sighed.

"The Sir and Madame Potter wish to see you in the red office, please."

James frowned. "Now?"

"Yes," Billings drawled, "Now, Master Potter."

"Fine." James leapt up and tossed the magazine carelessly over his shoulder. He followed Billings, a thin, balding old man with a prominent snaggletooth, down the decorated halls. The majority of the décor consisted of old, fraying tapestries that were centuries old, along with shimmering suits of aged armor.

They finally reached the large, gold-embossed door. The red office was his father's main business hub. It was where he held all of his main meetings.

"James," a deep voice boomed as the door creaked open.

Billing bowed and took his leave, leaving James to fend for himself. "Dad."

"Look at you, you're filthy!" His mother bustled over, licked her thumb and began roughly scrubbing a spot on his cheek.

"Mum, please!" he swatted her away. She was an aging woman, with thick white hair and a stout body. She was dressed in layers of silk, and strung with pearls to match the hair combs in her French twist.

She frowned and trotted back over to where her husband sat, fingers interlaced on the surface of the desk in front of him. He didn't bother to rise and greet James. He simply motioned to an empty chair in a very business-like fashion. He too had greying hair, and the skin around his eyes and mouth was beginning to sag. He truly had been handsome once, like James. They both had similar bone structures, and the same warm hazel eyes, the only inviting thing about the man.

"Have a seat, son," he said, motioning once more to the large leather chair.

James frowned, but complied. "What's this about?" He looked to his mother for a clue. Bless her heart, she just couldn't keep a secret.

Suddenly she burst in to tears. "Oh, Darling! Must we do this?"

His father sighed and patted his wife's hand. "Yes, it's for his own good."

James shifted uneasily. "What's for my own good?" He was getting a bit irritated. They were talking about him?

"Son," his father looked sternly into his eyes, "I think we can all say you've had your share of indiscretions."

"Yes…well…we were all kids once!" James chuckled.

"That's," his father frowned, "…well, that's the problem."

"What to you mean?"

"Darling," his mother sniffled, "It's time for you to grow up!"

James didn't understand. "What in the name of Merlin are you two talking about?"

His father furrowed his brow and interrupted his wife's sniffles. "Son, we're cutting you off."

---

"Lily, you must taste this!" Astrid lifted her fork and stuffed the bite of cake into Lily's protesting mouth. "It's fabulous. I- er- Remus and I chose it."

"That's lovely," Lily smiled, wiping the bit of frosting off her chin. "Er…so when's the date again?"

"December. I want a fabulous winter ball!" Astrid twirled in her imaginary dress, clicking her designer heels together.

Lily turned her focus back to her quill, furiously scribbling notes into a journal.

"What are you doing now?"

"Well," Lily pulled off her reading spectacles and set them aside. "I'm trying to sort through your previous purchases and record them in your Gringott's bankbook. You know, that's one of the most essential financial basics. You really should keep up with it."

Astrid laughed and swatted Lily on the shoulder. "Please, darling, that's why I pay you the shiny Galleons!" She laughed all the way down the hall and into her kitchen, which Lily thought was a tad excessive. It wasn't that funny.

Lily sighed and went back to work, sorting through the pile of receipts. There were all sorts of ridiculous purchases…ten pairs of Gladrags pointed-toe lace-up boots? Twenty-five jars of Powder Me Perfect? Sixteen cauldrons of Hag-Be-Gone Hair Serum?

"Astrid?" Lily called, furrowing her brow at some of her calculations. "Are certain that nine flats of pickled herring belong in the 'Essentials' pile?"

"There was a sale," she yelled. "Tea?"

"Sure," she called back, then turned to mumble to herself, "I'll be here all night the way we're going."

Astrid strode back into the room, balancing a tea tray with her wand.

Lily sighed and glanced at her watch. It was getting late. Perhaps she should call it a night. After all, she had to get home and work on the column. She sipped her tea gratefully and stood up. She'd been sitting for hours in that bloody wooden chair. Astrid didn't have anything comfortable in the entire flat. You'd think someone as skin-and-bones thin as her would need some extra padding.

"So tell me, Lily," Astrid crossed her legs and tapped the spoon on the rim of her cup exactly four times. "Are you seeing anyone special?"

Lily froze. "Oh yes, er…he's lovely!" Lie. "I really haven't stopped dating since Hogwarts." LIE.

Astrid smirked. "So who's the lucky bloke these days?"

"Er…his name is…Herman." Lily struggled. "Perhaps you've heard of him. He works in Accounting at the Prophet. "Herman…er…Melville." Yes. That's a perfectly respectable name.

"Huh," Astrid furrowed her brow. "That name sounds so familiar."

"Does it?" Lily chuckled. "How strange…perhaps you two have met and didn't even know it!" Come to think of it, the name was familiar to her as well…but where from…?

"Well congratulations, Lily. We should really get together. Double date, you know! You and Herman, me and my darling Remus!" Astrid tittered.

"Heh heh! Er… yes! Well…we shall see." Lily cleared her throat awkwardly and attempted to change the subject. "Well it's getting late! I'd really better get going. I'll owl you this week, yes?"

"That'll be fine," Astrid smiled as warmly as possible with that icy stare boring right through Lily.

Lily snatched her coat and Astrid ushered her out.

"We'll get together," Astrid kissed her on the cheek.

"Of course!" Lily grinned happily as the door slammed shut.

Damn. One more boyfriend to conjure. Maybe this time she wouldn't have to hire him.

---

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

"My life," James moaned, beating his head against the table, "Is over."

Thunk. Thunk-

"Stop that!" Sirius smacked James on the back of the head. "Look, your life is not over. I'm sure I'll be able to get you a job at the Ministry."

James glared. "Do I look like the working kind? No. I think not, Padfoot. This body was clearly made for Quidditch."

"I assume this means we won't be getting our cereal replaced," Peter frowned and folded his arms.

"Shut it, Wormtail," James hissed. "Can't you see I'm in the middle of a crisis? Some friend you are."

Remus sighed and set down his tea. "James, you know you're welcome here for as long as you need."

Sirius nodded as well, and Peter somewhat reluctantly.

Sirius shook his thick black layers of hair. "You know, James, I love Quidditch too, but some things have to be left in the past. That was a great time we had in school, but it's over now."

"And what if I don't want it to be over!"

"You sound like a petulant child!" Sirius yelled. "James, it's time to grow up!"

"Why," James gritted his teeth, "Does everyone keep saying that to me? I'm twenty years old! I'm perfectly capable of caring for myself!"

"Then prove it," Peter folded his arms.

James glared challengingly. "I will."

"Alright then," Sirius said, hold out his hand. "We'll swear on it. If you don't shape up and get a job in the next two weeks, you're out."

James thought it over a moment, then shook. "Deal."

"Well, this is going to be interesting," Remus took a drawn-out sip of tea.

---

"Get out."

"But why?" James pouted. "I've still got two weeks."

Sirius massaged the bridge of his nose. "James. Just look at all this garbage."

"It's not garbage!" James hugged a towering pile of miscellaneous items that were littering the living room. "They're my things."

"And how exactly did you pay for all these things?"

"Er…"

"Exactly. Get out."

James darkened. "You're going to kick your best friend out on the streets?"

"Yes. Get out."

"Padfoot, you can't be serious!"

"Look, James," Sirius sighed. "I have a job, and I can't come home and deal with this, nor can I support you!" He lowered his voice a bit, "As it is, Pete and I have to make up for what Remus can't chip in."

James eyed his feet. Suddenly he felt ashamed. One of the Fizzing Whizbees went off in the background, and it dropped unceremoniously at James' feet with a whimper. "I…didn't think about that."

"I know you didn't. Which is why you have to go. You've made it perfectly clear you aren't going to job hunt, and you've already blown off two meetings I set up for you at the Ministry."

"I'm sorry about that, but I don't want to work for the Ministry!"

"Well, James, you'd better start looking harder, or at least lowering your standards, because so far, no job has been worthy of James Potter! Do you understand the concept of supporting yourself? Living on your own, and paying for your own things?" Sirius looked equally vexed and concerned.

"Of course!" James said defensively. "I'm trying, you know!"

"Well it's not hard enough. Look, you can stay on one condition."

"What's that? Anything. I'll do it."

Sirius looked James in the eye. "Promise me."

"On my Marauder's honor."

Sirius sighed. "Bring her in."

Remus rounded the corner, and with him was a neatly suited young woman, thick red hair pinned loosely in a flattering bun. She peered over at James and smirked. "Hello, James."

James blanched and turned to Sirius, hissing, "No. NO. Anything but her!"

Sirius shook his head. "James, you promised. Lily can help you get your life on track."

"But…" he looked pleadingly from Sirius to Remus. "But…Lily Evans?"

Lily smiled primly and adjusted her collar. "That's me. So where shall we begin?"