It all could have been avoided if I'd just turned the git down. Or if I'd had something better to do on New Year's Eve. Or if I'd gone into hiding with my family like Christian. Or a million other alternate realities, I suppose. I'm not complaining; not really. It hardly matters anyway, because as it was, the small part I played in the fight for the soul of the wizarding world began when I was 19 and on a date.

A first date to be exact, and yes, on New Year's Eve. In general, I wouldn't have risked the greatest party night of the year with a stranger, but I was up against a wall. At the time, all of my friends ranged in relationship status from obnoxiously in love and unopposed to showing it, to shacked-up, married, and popping out spawn. Being Mommy and Daddy, or even Wife and Husband before seeing 20 candles on your cake sounds shocking now, but war has a way of speeding everything up.

When Maria and her fiance invited me to their party, I had no problem with the idea of going stag. At least not in the literal sense. It was everyone else's reactions that I dreaded, and Maria's reassurances were not reassuring. "It'll be a big shindig," she told me. "Lots of Jason's single friends that I've been dying to set you up with."

Ignoring the notion that anyone who uses the word 'shindig' probably has no business throwing one, I plastered a maniacal smile on my face and assured her I wouldn't miss it. I tried not to think about being paraded around like a show dog to all the brainless lout-types with which Jason seemed to enjoy associating, (being one himself.)

I suppose I can't really blame myself then, when I jumped at the chance to bring my own date, unknown stranger though he was. Although, looking back, he shared some unmistakable similarities with the aforementioned tossers I was trying to avoid. Hindsight and all that. I claim temporary insanity/blindness/desperation.

He was a big man, towering over me and me no petite flower. And he was attractive in the generic way that meant you'd likely forget his face as soon as he was out of your line of vision. Ted was his name, he told me in an overly-confident, let's-do-this-thang tone of voice as I sipped my caffe americano to have something to do with my hands.

"...and I know it's New Year's Eve and you probably have plans…"

Maybe it was the way his voice dipped toward self-consciousness at the end, as if perhaps he weren't quite as obnoxious as he was letting on. Am I grasping at straws here? Nevermind. It doesn't matter the reason because the next words out of my mouth were, "I do. Have plans, that is. But not a date. You interested?" The words were out of my mouth before I could think about it, and briefly I wondered if there were some way to shove them back in. (Why isn't there a spell for that yet?) But the shocked and self-satisfied expression on his face told me I had, in fact, spoken English, and that he hadn't gone temporarily and conveniently deaf. He reassured me in a way that somehow made it sound like he was doing me a favor-which I suppose he was-that he'd love to be my escort.

I regretted my hasty invitation instantly, and must have glanced at his card, ("Ted Michaelson of Gubler, Gardner, and Belz Law Firm. We get you PAID!") a hundred times trying to devise a worthwhile excuse to bow out; that was until I talked with Maria and mentioned that I'd be bringing company that night.

"Oh no, really?" she said, her face contorting into a ridiculous hangdog expression. "But Nelson has been asking about you for weeks. You remember Jason's friend? You met him at the bar last month. I thought it could be kind of a double-date thing."

Deciding not to point out that both parties need to be aware of and agree to a date for it to be considered a date, I consoled her while describing Ted's, (Tim's? Tom's? Taco's?) wonderful attributes. ("He has such nice teeth!" and "I've always liked blondes." Though I couldn't remember if he was actually blonde or not.)

I was feeling less than enthusiastic about the whole mess, but at least it was a chance to break in a dress that I had no other occasion to wear, dance with my friends, and possibly drink enough to find Mr. Ambulance Chaser interesting. Doubtful, but maybe I could get a nice, sweaty romp out of it, the kind of which I was sorely needing. I hated to think how long it'd been since I'd gotten laid, (Francis Finnster; 8 months, 1 week, 2 days. Right before he broke up with me via a note tacked to my apartment door.)

So, with that less than encouraging thought on my mind, (what if they've changed it? 8 months is a long time!) I stepped out into the chill of London-in-wintertime, and pointed my stilettos toward the nearby coffeehouse of our first meeting where we'd agreed to rendezvous.

On the way over, I gave myself a peptalk. I'd been wrong about Ted, obviously. We'd have a great time. Not only was he not the enormous douche-monster I'd originally taken him for, he was actually quite charming. Funny, smart, kind, and probably really great in bed.

"DAMN, you look fine."

Or not.

He grasped my hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it as I felt my eyes glaze over and my teeth grind together ever so gently.

Ted was, as far as I knew, a muggle, and unaware of the secret magical world of which I was a card-carrying member, (we don't carry cards,) so we took the tube to Maria and Jason's apartment. The hosts were both from magical families, but Jason had grown up in a predominantly non-magical neighborhood and had many muggle friends. Rule #1 of the party was no magic talk, so I wasn't overly concerned with Ted overhearing something he shouldn't. As we walked in, I had a brief respite from my date's droning, ("...youngest ever to win such a high priority case…." "...big, fat raise…") when Maria caught sight of me and pulled me to the side after introducing herself.

"Not exactly your type, is he?" she asked, eyeing Ted's back skeptically while he chatted up a new conversational conquest, a slightly alarmed-looking red-headed man who kept throwing furtive glances around the room and finally mumbling an excuse before barely restraining himself to a walk as he escaped.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

She didn't take her eyes off the man in question, but raised an eyebrow at my feigned innocence. "He's quite a bit older than us, isn't he? And did he say he's a lawyer? I don't know, Shan, seems a bit of a pompous-ass."

"He's successful, sure," I said, having no idea why I was defending him as I'd already cooked up 8 different schemes to make a getaway similar to ginger's. "And he's only 27."

Maria pursed her lips and was about to comment further when Ted made a terrifyingly abrupt reappearance at my shoulder.

"Here's a drink, babe," he said, holding up a cup filled with ominously purple liquid. "I made something special for you." He leered between Maria and me until I took a first coughing swallow.

"Good, huh?" he asked, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet a bit.

"Brilliant," I managed to respond while trying to stop my eyes watering.

"Erm, I have to go," Maria said uncertainly, gesturing to several new couples who had just walked in. "But it was nice meeting you, Ted. Oh Shannon, there are a few here from school. I'm sure you'll find each other."

The night would end in death.

I knew it with certainty. I would rain fiery pain down on everyone at that god-forsaken party until nothing was left but ash and rubble. They would talk about that night in hushed, terrified whispers for years to come. Little children would sit at campfires, staring in awe at the bravest of their friends who would dare to recount the tale of New Year's Eve, 1979, when Shannon Duffy, insane with rage and boredom, turned her friend's lovely party into a hideous bloodbath, the likes of which London, nay, the world had never seen before nor would again.

Because within one hour, I made the horrifying discovery that Ted Michaelson was the single most awful thing to ever happen to the human race. Not only was he not charming, not interesting, not funny, and not nice, he was also completely not aware that I actively wished him dead and was doing everything in my power to escape him. The man was a leech bent on sucking the life from me in a neverending, monotonous drone of unimpressive accomplishments and uninteresting anecdotes. My only breaks came when he'd notice my empty cup and scamper off to replenish it. New drink, (comprised mostly of starter fluid judging by the taste,) would go promptly down the toilet the moment I had a chance. In principle, I've always stood firmly against the waste of alcohol, but allowances have to be made.

Others seemed to be having a wonderful time, although I could hardly remember what that meant anymore. I could no longer remember my life before Ted had glommed onto me and I doubted the possibility that I'd ever be free of him. I'd go through the rest of my life; meetings at work, push-ups at the gym, watching the telly at home, dinner out with friends, all with Ted at my shoulder murmuring an eternal hum of dullness.

But yes, I was semi-conscious that the people around me seemed to be enjoying themselves, and if Ted hadn't sapped me of the ability to feel anything, I would have envied them. A group in the living room in particular seemed to be especially raucous. My face was propped on my fist, knuckles pushing my cheek up until I couldn't see out of my left eye, but I dimly became aware that I'd been staring unseeingly in their direction for quite some time. Excited muttering and laughter was punctuated by tremendous applause and cheers.

Without consciously deciding to, I stood abruptly and walked away without realizing that I should probably make some excuse for cruelly inflicting Ted's own company upon himself. "I'll just go fetch you another drink, shall I?" he called after me.

A particularly loud round of cheers and whoops greeted me as I approached the circle and I vaguely began to remember that this was what fun looked like. Slithering between strangers when I could and elbowing others out of the way when I couldn't, I eventually made my way to the front of the crowd. The scene that greeted me took a moment to digest in my brain.

A tall, dark-haired man was standing, legs spread wide and flourishing a dull-looking hand saw in a dramatic and decidedly dangerous manner. In front of him was Maria's coffee table, obscured by a red-headed woman lying horizontally inside of a large cardboard mailing box. Her head and feet poked out of both ends and she looked distinctly irritated.

"...can't believe I agreed to this," she muttered under her breath. And more loudly, "This is incredibly sexist, James. Why is it always the woman who's sawed in half?"

"Lily, darling, it's not like that at all!" he said and patted her cheek. "Now be a lamb and hush up while I perform wonders never seen before! Only kidding dear, only kidding!"

Avoiding her attempts to kick his shins, he gave the saw a few more alarming waves in which I was sure he'd fling it through the nearby window or on top of the head's of one of his enthralled fans. Instead he brought it straight down on to the box's-and thus Lily's-middle and began hacking back and forth. The sound of cutting cardboard alarmed many of the audience members, but Lily stared up at the ceiling with weary annoyance and said nothing more as James continued to saw down through where her belly ought to have been until he reached the surface of the coffee table.

He looked up at his audience, who seemed to be holding their breath as one, and grinned devilishly, before pushing Lily's two halves apart from each other.

"TADA!" he bellowed to enormous applause and an indecent amount of vocal adulation. I clapped along with them but stood fast as he shooed the others away, claiming he had to 'clean up' his wife.

"Duffy," he greeted me pleasantly while sliding Lily's pieces back toward each other across the table. "How are you?"

"Isn't this the most embarrassing thing you've ever seen?" Lily cut in before I could answer. "He insists we do this at every damn party if any muggles are around. I've been telling him it's grounds for divorce, no question."

"Afraid she has a point there, Potter," I agreed sympathetically, although I couldn't help grinning. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Come on, it's all in fun," he said as he glanced around before surreptitiously drawing his wand and muttering the countercharm. Lily sprang up intact, tearing the box open, and punched him hard in the arm.

"Never again, James Potter," she said in a low, and frankly terrifying growl, planting a long finger 2 centimeters from his nose. "Never. Again."

He quailed before her, nodding, rubbing his arm, and saying nothing. But when she'd gone to retrieve a drink he turned back to me with a smile. "She says that every time, but she always comes round. Right, Pads?" The last was directed over my shoulder and I turned to find Sirius Black with a lopsided grin on his face. It slid off presently though and he turned serious as he considered his friend.

"Don't know, Prongs. She looked pretty ruffled about this one." He took a long swallow of an amber-colored liquid. "Could find yourself being served papers tomorrow."

"Nah," James dismissed him with a wave of his hand and repeated, almost to himself, "She always comes round." But then he was silent, staring at the kitchen door through which his wife had departed.

"Oi, Lily? You're not really mad, are you?" he called, his voice disappearing along with himself through the door.

I laughed and turned to face the newcomer, though my eyes lingered on the door a bit longer. "Didn't know they'd gotten married already."

He nodded, taking another drink. He looked steady, eyes not glazed nor bleary, but he was sure going through his drink with a purpose. "Last month. At her parents' house. Great do, why didn't you come?"

I looked at him with confusion. Although we'd all been in the same year at Hogwarts, I'd rarely interacted with Lily Evans or any of the self-styled Marauders outside of class. We were friendly, but certainly not friends.

"Not invited."

If he was embarrassed at his faux pas, he hid it, merely nodding and turning to look me full in the face for the first time.

"Your date looks the entertaining sort."

I narrowed my eyes at him, and my lip curled up just the slightest bit. My gaze slid over his shoulder to where I could see that Ted was, shockingly, prattling on to some unsuspecting guest who was nodding her head politely. I wondered if she already felt the pieces of her soul starting to turn black and die away. Above the pleasant hum of conversations, I heard him tell her, "Yes, I'm here with someone. Tall girl, dark hair. Don't know where she got off to." And he started searching the crowd for me.

"Shit," I said, ducking down behind Black's silhouette. "Shit, shit shitshitshitshitshit!" He looked down at me with ill-disguised amusement.

"Not very polite," he said. "He's probably a lovely bloke. Come on, we'll just call him over." And, raising his voice at the end, he actually turned to sign my death warrant. I grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him roughly to the nearest hallway.

"Are you crazy?!" I hissed, peeking my head around the corner and whipping it back in an impressively accurate Ethan Hunt impression, (if I do say so myself.) Ted had not noticed us, but he was now on a mission to find me and regale me with the tale of how his last girlfriend chewed her own foot off to get away from him. Or something.

"Where the hell did you find this guy?" Black asked, sticking his own head out to assess the situation and not being nearly covert enough about it if you asked me. Ted was now cornering every person in the living room in turn and asking my whereabouts, to be given vague answers and hand gestures in return. But he was drawing steadily closer.

"Oh god, oh shit," I said, clutching the sides of my head and pulling down in what I'm sure was a grotesque face of horror. "I can't spend another minute with him, Black, I can't! He's a social vacuum! He'll sucks the life out of me, you have no idea! I can't listen to that nasal drone for one more second, I just fucking can't!"

"Alright, alright," he said, taking hold of my upper arms. "Deep breath," and he took one himself to show me how it was done. "You're really going to owe me. Remember, I'm saving your life." He turned me toward the bedrooms that I knew were down the hallway in which we'd been hiding and gave me a shove between the shoulder blades. When I got my bearings enough to be offended and I'd turned around, he'd already disappeared around the corner back to the living room.

I ignored his rather cryptic actions and tiptoed silently back the way he'd gone. I heard his voice much too close to me.

"Yes, she's horribly ill. Spewing all over herself, probably drank too much. Poor girl, it was coming out both ends, actually." I made a fist and promised to kill Sirius Black the first chance I got. "She asked me to tell you that she had to run for home. Didn't want you to see her in that state."

After some mumble-mumbles from Ted and a sincere sounding apology from Black, their voices became more and more distant until I couldn't hear them at all over the din of the party. I waited several more minutes, not daring to hope that I'd escaped Ted's presence without causing or sustaining permanent damage.

Black's face appeared suddenly around the corner, covered in a wide, self-satisfied smirk. "You're welcome."

Forgetting my flinch at his unexpected reappearance, my eyes widened at the tantalizing hope that I might be able to enjoy the rest of the evening. "He's gone?" I whispered reverently.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets and saying nothing, Black merely nodded smugly.

"WAHOOOOO!" I yelled at full volume, startling him and effectively paying him back. "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSS!" And I pelted out of the hallway and back into the living room, hugging the first person I came across who was, incidentally, a stranger and a muggle to boot. He seemed quite scandalized, but I turned to his friend and grabbed him by the shoulders, gazing fondly into his unfamiliar face for a moment before hugging him to me tightly as well. We had weathered the catastrophe together and we were now more than just survivors; adversity had made us friends.

"Shannon?" Lily approached me warily. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, Lily," I said tearily. I walked over to her and laid my forehead on her shoulder and my arms around her middle. "It's over. Oh thank Merlin, it's over. We made it."

She patted my back awkwardly and I felt her shrug at someone to my left. I turned to see Black leaning against the wall and looking amused, if a little bewildered. "Was he really that bad?"

I didn't answer, but released Lily and let me head drop back. "Blessed freedom," I said, sucking in a deep, cleansing breath.

When I looked back up, Lily was regarding me with a wide, amused grin. "How about a drink, eh?" I grabbed her face and kissed her full on the mouth.