Minerva McGonagall stared down at the pink, blobby lump in Lily Evans' hair. Behind her, Sirius Black appeared engrossed in his notes.
Minerva sighed. "Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Black. Miss Evans, you have bubblegum in your hair again."
There was very little space unoccupied in Remus' heart. Lily surmised that Potter and Black owned about a third of it, Pettigrew an eighth. His parents might deserve a whole half, but Remus was so secretive about his family, it was hard to know. Still, that left...not much more space for other people.
They turned into a third floor corridor in companionable silence.
"Why Marauders?" Lily asked, teasingly. "Was Potter re-living a Viking fantasy?"
Remus laughed. "Actually, it wasn't James's idea."
"Black then."
"Nope." He was grinning now as he walked, his head turned slightly towards her.
"Peter?"
"Close. He inspired it. James stole some biscuits and Peter chased him around the dorm yelling about thieves and looters."
The portrait of Wendell the Insane laughed along with Lily. "You?" she said finally, clapping her hands to her chest. "Prefect Lupin?"
His eyes fell. "More Marauder than Prefect, I suppose."
Lily hesitated for a second, watching his profile. "Is that- I mean, would they...like you less the other way 'round?"
His wand hand swung in a long arc away from them; his profile darkened to a silhouette. "Yes," Remus said.
On the days she insulted Potter, she found rat droppings in her bed. Lily thought she was going mad at first, but no, it really was just the days she insulted Potter.
She didn't know how to tell anyone, so those nights she slept with the sheets bundled into a hard little lump at the foot of her bed.
The little plant on Potter's desk was shrivelling, almost withering; it was a few seconds from drying out completely.
He tapped it lightly and Lily watched time rewind: the stem slid back upright, leaves unfurled and the sickly yellow at its base melted to vivid green.
She turned back to the seed on her desk and frowned in concentration. From seed to stalk, she had to make it grow.
A few moments later, Lily had a healthy little shoot about four inches high, curling around her wand-tip. She smiled, exhilarated.
Potter was still playing with his plant, absent-mindedly, maturing it in stages. He looked up to see her watching him, and Lily flushed when he winked. She turned away quickly.
When she looked back twenty minutes later, he was still watching for her and the plant was dead.
Severus had grown. The skinny child she remembered was taller than she was, though some things stayed the same. She could have told him that his beaky nose and worn clothes didn't matter, except they did, now that they were no longer friends. He ignored her in Potions and watched her at Prefect meetings, when he thought she couldn't see.
Lily thought she had chosen a long time ago, at the end of fifth year to be exact, but as it turned out, she hadn't. In Snape versus Potter, she still couldn't bear to let Potter win.