A heavy hand pounded on the door to the shady, ostensibly closed-down Knockturn pub. Everyone inside froze. Anyone who knew what this place was – who had any right to be there – knew better than to come to the front door, or to knock. The patrons, if they could be called patrons, shuffled awkwardly, until one was shoved out of their mass and up against the boarded storefront.
"It's the aurors! Everybody run!"
§
It started out so innocently.
She had been interested in ritual magic, runic casting, weather-working, the outlawed healing spells that had become restricted and even banned over the course of the past fifty years.
She had been young and naïve the first time she had ventured into the Nameless Bookstore, Severus at her side, both under the influence of an ageing potion, with her distinctive hair dyed black and her eyes hidden behind blue-tinted muggle sunglasses. She had boldly told the proprietor, an old man called Anomos, that she didn't see any reason she shouldn't be allowed to study whatever magic she liked.
He rolled his eyes and muttered, "Ravenclaws," but she could tell he liked her.
§
There was a mad scramble as everyone either tried to gather up the merchandise they had brought to sell, or else attempted to distance themselves from it entirely. They began to panic as they realized that the Aurors had set up an anti-disapparition, anti-portkey perimeter.
"Do not attempt to flee!" a magically magnified voice called. "This is Senior Auror Moody! We have the building surrounded!"
Fuck!
§
They returned several times over the course of that summer, catching the Knight Bus from Cokeworth to Diagon Alley and furtively assuming their disguises in shadowy corners before setting off into the depths of Knockturn in search of forbidden magic.
The next year, Severus was not at her side, after their fight by the lake. She went alone, hunting down more exciting, more advanced ideas.
The year after that, they went together only once, for old times' sake. Severus had been surprised, she thought, when he realized she had continued to visit without him. "Careful, Irony," he muttered as Anomos puttered away toward the back of the shop. "People are going to think you're darker than I am, if you keep this up."
§
Lily had no illusions that Alastor Moody would let her go, just because they were both members of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix; if anything, he would treat her more harshly as a traitor to the Light.
The man she had been talking to shoved the collaboration grimoire she had been examining across the table toward her. "More'n my life's worth," he muttered as she snatched it up and shoved it into her rucksack. He looked around furtively, then turned into a bird with a distinctive pop and sped out a broken window at the back of the shop.
Several others faded into the shadows, or dissolved their corporeal forms into a thick smoke and fled through the walls and ceiling. For the first time, Lily cursed herself for never learning any of the more esoteric, dark methods of transportation.
§
Just because Severus had only gone with her one time during that summer before their seventh year, didn't mean she had only gone once.
On the very next trip, Anomos had made her an offer, when he caught her commiserating with another patron about the paltry selection of texts referencing the Primordial Dark – not just at the Nameless Bookshop, but anywhere: "Y'know, missy, if it's the really dark stuff you're after, there's a bunch of… let's call them connoisseurs. Private collectors, you know. Meet up once or twice a month to trade face to face. If you're interested…"
§
There was an inhuman shriek and she rushed to the window to see a snarling lion Patronus leap through a shadow, dragging a humanoid figure out of it and down to the ground.
Okay, maybe it's just as well that's not an option, she reconsidered. But that still didn't solve her problem of how to get the fuck out without going down for trafficking in class-seven non-tradable goods. The book in her rucksack was supposedly linked to one at Miskatonic, and she had seen at least three references to anathema topics just flipping through it. If she was caught with something like that in her possession…
Well, the man who had foisted it on her was right: it was worth more than either of their lives.
And she had touched it – spent considerable time examining it, in fact: the aurors would be able to track that, even if she left it behind. Fuck!
§
She had accepted the offer without hesitation. Everyone knew that all the truly rare and valuable books were in the hands of private owners – mostly Old, Dark families with enough political power to prevent their confiscation over the centuries.
Not coincidentally, those were the same families from which most of the Death Eaters were recruited.
She was aware that attending any such swap-meet would bring her face-to-face with some of the worst elements of Magical British society – the ones who would kill her as soon as look at her if they knew who and what she was.
But she was confident no one would recognize her.
§
She sank into the shadows at the back of the shop and crawled under a table. If she was lucky, she might be overlooked, and then she could just leave.
She quickly began casting a series of disguise and concealment spells: Severus' Cone of Silence (she still loved that name) to hide the sounds of her casting and breathing and heartbeat from supersensory charms; disillusionment and collective translucency charms on herself and her bag – in the low light, she should be all but invisible; a delightful little curse that would foil hominem revelio, at least for a few minutes, though it made her feel like throwing up as long as it was working; a locking spell to help resist Finishing charms; a third-class Unobtrusive charm, to subtly deflect attention from any abnormalities created by her presence.
Moody blasted down the doorway before she could do anything else.
§
The sharp, enameled nib of a blood quill pinned an oath to the back door of the burnt out factory where the first swap-meet was held.
'I swear by my life's blood never to reveal by word or by deed or by any other means, any activities witnessed this night in this place, or the identity of any person or persons involved in said activities, to anyone not present. I swear to keep the peace and honor any agreements made this night. I affirm my understanding of these vows, and swear to abide by their spirit with no attempt at circumvention, lest my blood boil in my veins.'
A line of brownish 'x's marked the page below the oath.
Lily read it three times and performed a diagnostic charm to ensure that the drop of blood could not be used to track her down, or for any other reason than the stated oath, before she warily added her own. The magic of the quill bit viciously into her hand to make her mark. She waited until the blood was dry, and therefore bound to the oath and useless for any other purpose, before jamming the quill back into the rotting planks and pinning the page back in place.
§
There was a short, pitched battle between those few Dark wizards who hadn't tried to escape and had no means to hide, and the aurors who stormed the door.
The Dark wizards were desperate, and more willing to do serious damage, but the aurors knew their business: they swiftly incapacitated their targets. A swap-meet regular who called himself Balin cast fiendfire at the advancing aurors. Lily cursed the fact that it was between herself and the door – otherwise, she thought, it would have made an excellent distraction to escape.
Moody, clearly in charge of the operation, countered with an elemental water charm to isolate the demonic flames while his companions focused the full force of their attentions on Balin. He fell quickly, under an onslaught of spells – several more than the hidden witch really felt were necessary to subdue him. Without his magic backing the flames, the curse on the fire dissipated, and Moody's standing wave crushed it with a great gout of steam.
§
A young man came to show Lily the hidden entrance built into the palings that warded the swap-meet.
"You're new," he observed drily.
"What makes you say that?"
"Only the new ones hesitate over the oath," he shrugged. "Constantine."
Lily hesitated. "Asphodel."
"Pretty name for a pretty girl," Constantine winked at her. "Who told you where to find us?"
"Anomos, from the bookshop. I have an interest in the… rarer texts."
The man grinned broadly. "Well, any friend of Odysseus'. Come on, I'll introduce you to Morgen. She's in charge of all this."
§
The Senior Auror slumped against the wall, exhausted. Lily was impressed, despite her predicament. It took a great deal of power to do anything with fiendfire, especially when it was cast by someone else, and containing it was almost unheard of, at least without tapping an external power source.
Exhausted though he clearly was, Moody was equally clearly still focused on completing his mission. He growled and barked orders to his subordinates, sending three of the four out of the building. One returned with a pair of twisted golden artefacts and a very excited-looking Sirius Black, who had a Secrecy Sensor of his own.
"Wands at the ready," the auror growled. "And mind you don't touch anything unless it's been thoroughly tested. Y'get all kinds of dangerous shit at these things. Once saw a lad's eyes burnt out trying to take a book into evidence. An' you can bet your balls there's at least one slimy little pissant hiding ready to hex you and make a run for it! Constant vigilance!"
§
Morgen was an old witch, wizened and white haired, with beady black eyes and scars on her hands and face that marked her as a werewolf.
If the scars hadn't given her away, the way she scented the air as Lily approached would have done.
"What've you brought me, Connie, my lad? A fresh-faced babe, this one is!"
"Not so fresh-faced as that, grandmother," Lily snapped. Constantine hid a smirk behind his hand, as though he wasn't sure whether he was permitted to laugh, but Morgen did.
"May I present Miss Asphodel, Lady Morgen?" Constantine asked formally.
She waved the proprieties away with a neglectful hand. "Asphodel… Asphodel… Death's flower, hmm? Did de Mort send you here?"
§
Lily wasn't the only one hiding. Two others had neglected to counter hominem revelio, and one made a break for it as the two aurors with Secrecy Sensors advanced on her position. Lily crept out from under her table and edged toward the door as Sirius approached her spot. He stopped as she did, and turned slowly, his Sensor alerting him to her movement, and vibrating more violently as he closed in.
Moody was still guarding the door. Hexing Sirius and making a run for it wasn't an option, no matter how appealing it sounded. She tried, one last time, to disapparate, but it was useless: the wards were still up.
With no other options, she raised her hands above her head and directed her wand at herself, dropping her concealment spells.
Sirius nearly dropped his Sensor in his haste to disarm her and conjure ropes to bind her.
§
"De Mort?" Lily asked, confused. The only de Mort she knew of was He Who Failed French: Sirius had told all of them long ago that that was the name he had used for semi-legitimate business with the Dark families when they were children.
"I've told him his politics are not welcome here. If you're an envoy of his…"
Constantine shook his head: "She claimed Odysseus."
The old werewolf harrumphed. "Well, that may be, but if it looks like de Mort and smells like de Mort…"
"If you're talking about the same de Mort I'm thinking of, I'm not one of his," Lily said, trying not to laugh aloud at the thought.
"Well, you smell honest enough about that, at least. Should make it easy for you to avoid making any recruitment speeches on his behalf," Morgen huffed. "Do your business, follow the rules, and we'll have no trouble, aye?"
§
"Sirius!" she hissed as he came closer to take her bag and cast the charms to reveal her disguise and discover any hidden enchanted items on her person. "Sirius Black!"
He looked up, startled. "Don't even think about appealing to my sentiments as a Black," he warned her, glaring fiercely.
"Wha…? Why would I…? Sirius, it's me – Li-Prongs' flower!" she whispered, darting a fearful look in Moody's direction. He was watching Sirius' processing of her arrest, but there was no sign he had noticed her speaking.
His eyes widened. "Lily?! What the…?"
"It's true!" She shook her head just enough that her glasses, enchanted to make her eyes appear a light shade of blue, rather than their usual bright green, slipped down her nose.
"Fuck!"
§
It took some time for Asphodel to become a familiar face at the swap-meets. The first month, she simply lurked around the edges of things, seeing what was available, and learning what she might have worth trading. At the second meeting, she offered to bind a curse into a ring in exchange for in introductory text on bioalchemy. By the third, word had gotten around about its effectiveness: she was approached with several offers before a witch who recognized how she was binding the enchantments asked her whether she would be able to design a ritual.
"Probably," Lily had answered glibly. "What would you want it to do?"
The witch edged closer and looked around fearfully before whispering: "I need to miscarry, I need it to look like an accident, and I need to be able to have children in the future. No questions, no traces. Can you do it?"
§
"Shhhh! Sirius, you have to help me get out of here!"
"Lily – I can't – are you out of your fucking mind? What are you even doing here?!"
"I promise – I swear to God and the Powers and Merlin and fuck, whoever you want – if you get me out of this, I will explain everything."
Sirius glared at her. "I can't, Evans! Can. Not. This is my fucking job – not to mention Moody would kill me!" he whispered harshly.
"Sirius, I am begging you. I will owe you. I will owe you indefinitely. I can't go to Azkaban!" He was wavering, she could tell. She pulled out the big guns: "Think what it would do to James!"
§
She did, in fact, do it. In exchange, the witch, Hyacinth, agreed to cover for her while she was at school, acting as an intermediary and agent in the months Lily was unable to attend the swap-meets.
The look on the older girl's face when she realized that she had submitted to a ritual invented by someone not yet out of Hogwarts was priceless. Lily would have helped her just for that – or because she could hardly leave her in her predicament. Honestly, asking her to cover and help build Asphodel's reputation while she was stuck at Hogwarts was the only thing she could think of demanding for a job she would have done for free: there had to be a reason for the stipulations Hyacinth had demanded, though she could hardly ask what that reason was, given that one of them was 'no questions.'
By the time she graduated, she had designed more than a dozen rituals on commission, each one earning her more texts, or rare potions and alchemy ingredients, which Hyacinth dutifully delivered over Yule and Easter. Lily released her from her obligation before taking delivery of the final cache, the day after graduation.
§
The Marauder's glare intensified, as if to say 'I know what you're doing.' She raised an eyebrow in a silent, 'Is it working?' "Fine! I can give you one opportunity. One. While we're transporting you. That's it. Best I can do."
Lily sagged in relief as Sirius levitated her out the door to sit beside the other prisoners.
"Everything alright, there, lad?" Moody asked as they passed.
"Yessir. Just reading the prisoner her rights."
"Good lad. Hand her over to Hensley and then help Drake and Morris finish the sweep."
§
The tenor of the swap-meet had changed in the six months Lily had been absent, between the winter holiday and graduation.
Everyone was warier, less trusting.
They drove harder bargains, demanding cash or immediate barter – no favors to be cashed at a later date or products to be delivered.
Constantine caught her before she left and murmured a warning in her ear: "Watch yourself, pretty girl – Morgen's getting wary."
He pressed a kiss to her lips and disapparated with a roguish grin.
§
Lily wriggled fruitlessly in her bonds, under the watchful eye of Hensley and some auror whose name she didn't know. In point of fact, she had no idea which of the two was Hensley, but she couldn't really see that it really mattered.
There was a rather sharp rock digging into her arse. She was pinned between a stupefied Balin and another wizard she didn't know, unable to effectively scoot away from it, so she simply fidgeted, trying to relieve the pressure by shifting this way and that.
She wasn't even thinking of escape, yet, when the rope coiled around her went slack in the area of her hips. She couldn't quite free her hands without unwrapping it entirely (and very obviously), but she could, now, do that when Sirius' 'opportunity' arrived.
She wondered if he had done that on purpose. It seemed like the sort of thing he would do. Arse.
§
The second July meeting of 1978 was cancelled; when Lily arrived at the abandoned pub the group had appropriated for August, she discovered that it was because Morgen and her core of supporters had moved on. A few of the old regulars had elected to carry on without her, but it wasn't the same.
Lily herself almost left as soon as she reached the door, and found the oath-page missing – much as she had initially mistrusted the blood-oath and the old werewolf vetting each newcomer, she found she now missed the added security of those measures. The only thing that kept her from going was an issue of outstanding business: she had promised to perform a ritual for a vampire, and she could not bring herself to go back on her word with one of the few contacts in the club who likely had the means to track her down outside of it.
Without Morgen's influence, the meeting devolved quickly, and by the end, several of the regulars whom Lily knew to be marked Death Eaters were openly attempting to convince their younger and more impressionable swap-partners to come to a meeting at the Parliament. Lily herself was approached, but she rebuffed the recruiter – a wizard called Travers, who was old enough to be her father – with a glare that left him inexplicably quailed.
§
The aurors apparated their prisoners out in order of importance and perceived threat. Balin went first, despite being unconscious, for summoning fiendfire. Lily, who had surrendered peacefully, was nearly last.
"I'll take her," Sirius volunteered.
Moody chuckled. "First arrest is always a big one. You sure you're ready to solo, kid?"
"I've got it," the younger wizard insisted. Lily felt a little bad about setting him up to fail at such an important juncture in his career, but certainly not bad enough to go to Azkaban.
"Got her wand?"
Sirius patted his left pocket. "This bag's hers, too," he said, picking it up and slinging it over a shoulder. "I'll drop it at curse-check, make sure it's entered into evidence, all by the book."
"Alright. March her out, then," Moody nodded.
Sirius saluted, only half-mockingly.
§
Still, even without Morgen's presence, barring the Death Eater recruitment speech at the end, the swap-meet had gone smoothly – enough so that when the late August meeting rolled around, Lily decided to attend again – though she also decided not to make any commitments on commissions. She supposed she had caught the pervasive attitude that one should be ready to disappear from the scene at any moment.
Everything seemed to be going well, until a heavy knock fell on the front door of the ostensibly closed-down pub.
§
As soon as they reached the edge of the anti-disapparition wards – the spot where all the other prisoners had been apparated from – Lily leapt into action, releasing the loose ropes and stripping them off of herself; diving her hand into Sirius' pocket for her wand and grabbing her bag. He tried to stop her, grabbing her shoulder as she pulled it away, but she kicked him in the knee and apparated while he was too distracted to stop her, deliberately splinching his hand so that he couldn't follow.
She left the hand in a field in Norfolk for him to track down, stripping her disguise and heading for the Leakey Cauldron and its public floo. She floo'd to Fansif Alley, apparated back to Diagon, floo'd to St. Mungo's and from there apparated back to the Order safehouse where she had been living since graduation, utterly exhausted from so many apparitions in quick succession, heart racing.
The other residents of the Safehouse came running, fearing an emergency.
"It's fine – I'm fine," she assured them, breathing hard. "Just a bit of a close call."
Now she just had to figure out what to tell Sirius Black.
Inspired by the line "And now they're outside, ready to bust; it looks like you might be one of us." in the song Heathens by 21 Pilots.