A/N: Many thanks to Anna my beta!
2. Lost Dog
(Fifth year)
When Lily enters the Gryffindor common room to find an impressive crowd huddled round James Potter, she knows he is plotting something. She's seen throngs of people gathered suspiciously around James Potter all day; in the Great Hall, in the corridors, even in the library, a place she was quite sure he must have entered by mistake thinking it was a toilet. James Potter simply didn't do libraries.
If James is plotting, Lily is in danger. She thinks if James plotted hard enough he could take over the Wizarding world and make up silly rules like underwear being illegal and replace armchairs with hammocks.
...the hammock idea sounded jolly good fun, but that was beside the point.
She can't just pass the large crowd gathered in the common room, either. Not only are they blocking the exit (two rather large seventh years standing arm-by-arm in front of the portrait hole, on purpose, no doubt), but she has stubborn curiosity at the worst of times. Sighing, she makes her way over to James sitting on one of the armchairs in front of the fire, looking thoroughly miserable.
"What's going on, oh pain in my rear?" she asks with folded arms. James doesn't even look up, worrying Lily. Usually James always stole opportunities to ogle at her. "What's wrong with him, Remus?" she asks one of his acquaintances nearby.
Remus makes a rather painful sigh in turn. "He's lost something very dear to him."
"I'm afraid you can't lose arrogance over night, Remus."
"No," he shakes his head, "no it's not his arrogance, or any other annoying personality trait he possess—"
James' head pops up to glare at Remus. "Oi!" he says, miffed.
"James' pet dog is missing," Peter explains.
"Potter has a pet dog?"
Remus sighs and nods.
"His name is Padfoot," James says sadly.
"Padfoot?" Lily repeates with a frown. "Isn't that what you call Black?"
James laughs nervously. "Coincidences are charming, aren't they?"
Lily narrows her eyes at him, but the sound of an elbow thumping into someone's stomach catches her attention. She studies Peter elbowing a fellow fifth year in the stomach at least five times until he snaps out of his daydream. With a firm look from James, the fifth year looks down at his hand beside his thigh, reading something off his palm.
"Pa… Pa… Padfeet?" The boy attempts to read as he squints at his hand, trying to crack the code of the smudged ink. "Padfeet is a great…doog?"
"Dog," Peter corrects him out of the corner of his mouth. "And it's Padfoot."
"Sure," the boy nods, reading on, "Padfoot is la... loo... loved? "Yes, I think it says loved. Padfoot is loved by everybody. He didn't have fleas. And he was a hit with the lady… doogs."
"Dogs," Peter corrects him again.
"Sure," the boy stuffs his hands in his pocket and looks up at James, "Can I have my galleon now—?"
"ANYWAY," James cuts across him when Lily is about to interrogate him on what their classmate is being paid for, and why he just read an illegible essay off his hand. "My dog. He's missing."
"Again, since when did you even own a dog?" Lily asks him shrewdly.
"I have photographic evidence!" James informs her with an overenthusiastic grin. He brings out a photo album, obviously prepared, and shows it to Lily.
"This is me and Padfoot in the park," James says, pointing to the magical moving photograph. Lily finds it very strange for a dog to attempt travelling down a slide and James pushing a dog on a swing. He flicks to another photograph.
"This is me and Padfoot on holiday in Cornwall," he says, pointing to a photo of a beach. Again, Lily finds it very strange for a dog to be wearing swim wear, with sunglasses, posing on a surfboard.
"There's Padfoot running away from a horny Labrador," he laughs, showing her another photograph. Lily looks away before she witnesses humping of any kind. When James turns to another page of the photo album, her eyes nearly pop out of her head in shock.
"What is that?" she demands, pointing to what appears to be Padfoot again in a forest of some kind, accompanied by what looks to be a werewolf.
"HALLOWEEN COSTUME," James lies before shutting the album with a slam. He ignores the way Lily's eyes narrow at him, begging, "I need your help..."
Lily knows what James is going to ask her.
"Forget it!"
"Oh come on Lily, please?"
"I am not helping you find your stupid dog!"
She spins on her heel and heads towards the portrait hole a second time. But te burly seventh years guarding the exit are still there, scary as ever, forbidding her from escaping. "Is this some kind of conspiracy?" Lily says.
James attempts yet again, with the sort of saddened look you would see on a homeless child, "Lily, please? Pretty please with a mango on top?"
"A what on top?"
"I don't like cherries," James says, as if that will explain the peculiar phrase. "Pretty, beautiful, dazzling please?"
Lily sticks her nose up in the air and replies, "And what if I don't?"
"I'll lick my finger and then stick it in your ear—yes, James Potter saliva may possibly travel down your auditory canal."
Lily gasps, "You wouldn't dare—get away!" She climbs across one of the armchairs in the room when James licks his finger and comes towards her. "Get that finger away from me, Potter!" She screams and grabs hold of his wrist seconds before his finger touches her earlobe. "Alright, ALRIGHT! I'll help you!" she gives in at long last.
"Works every time," James grins, wiping his finger on his shirt. Lily looks away with displeasure.
James cups his hands around his mouth and yells "PADFOOT!" at the top of his lungs for the billionth time. "WHERE ARE YOU, PADFOOT?"
Lily is this close to ripping out his spleen. She agreed to help search the castle for James' dog. She did not agree to him damaging her eardrums.
"PA—"
"Potter, can I stop you right there?" Lily cuts in politely, fists balled. "If the dog were here, it would hardly be able to shout 'oh yes, I am here!' back, would it?"
James considers his answer. "But he'd bark back," he says firmly.
"You're sure about that, are you?"
"Positive as a pickled egg."
Lily rolls her eyes, "What is the point in saying weird made up phrases like that? No one understands them but you."
"All phrases have to start somewhere, Lily. One day my phrases will be in the phrase book, and you'll be seething with jealousy."
"Oh sure, I'll be jealous that 'positive as a pickled egg' is in some sort of official phrase book and I hadn't created it," Lily says, unable to conceive anything he is saying. "You know, your brain—"
"Oh yes, I do know my brain. Lovely chap. We dined in Hogsmeade just the other night—"
"Your brain," Lily continues, speaking over him, "works likes a garden shed. You stuff it with useless rubbish until it overflows, implodes, and you're left with pieces of thick wood—"
"Can you hear barking?" James asks her unexpectedly.
"I'm in the middle of slandering you, don't interrupt me!"
Quickly, James grabs her hand and pulls her down the corridor in the direction of the barking.
"Oh Merlin, the finger that you previously licked is touching my now contaminated hand!" Lily tries to wrestle her hand free but persitently James drags her down the corridor. "Let go of me!"
"I can hear the barking, can't you?" James asks.
"Apparently your dog's barking is only detected by the owner because all I can hear is my contaminated hand burning from your saliva—" Lily shuts up when she notices they're facing a broom cupboard.
"The barking is coming from in there," James says, gesturing to the broom cupboard, trying terribly hard to hold back from waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"No it's not."
"Yes it is."
"No, it's not."
"Trust me, it is."
"I'd rather trust a baby holding a wand than trust you." Lily eyes him sceptically. "I want you to think very carefully before you even consider dragging me in that broom cupboard."
"Okay, I'm thinking about it," James says, looking up pensively for a moment. Then he pulls her inside the dark broom cupboard as expected, banging the door shut behind them.
"Why am I not surprised you just did that, Potter? You are a buffoon, and I hope that garden shed head of yours gets set on fire by antisocial teenage arsonists."
"Can you see Padfoot?"
"Can I see—can I see your stupid dog? If you hadn't noticed already, it's pitch black in here!"
Suddenly James lights up his wand and shines it over his face, light illuminating his features in a creepy fashion. "Boo," he grins.
"WAAAAH!"
James looks offended by her reaction. "Merlin, surely my face isn't that scary?"
"I beg to differ, but that wasn't the reason for my scream. There is a giant spider on your face—"
"SPIDER?" screams James girlishly. "HOLY MOTHER OF MERLIN!"
He quickly scrambles for the door knob and they tumble out of the broom cupboard, James whacking his face for spiders at the same time. After two minutes of Lily watching James slap his self continuously in the face, he stops with a scowl.
"There was no spider, was there?"
"Nope."
"Evans. Evans, I think I know what happened to Padfoot—"
"I'm going to tell you before you even begin your hypothesis: it's not what happened."
"But you haven't even heard me out!"
"Go on, then."
"Padfoot could be kidnapped by Lord Voldemort—"
"You're an idiot."
"Aha!" James says, as he and Lily arrive at their newfound destination: the kitchens. Why they're at the kitchens, Lily doesn't know. Perhaps for a snack break?
"What are we doing here?" Lily asks, watching James tickle the portrait of fruit.
"Padfoot could be in there."
Lily doesn't look at all convinced.
"He likes to eat," James says. He climbs through the portrait and Lily follows him with a deflated sigh. They're met with house elves and a delicious waft of food.
"Oh, look what we have here!" James says, sounding awfully rehearsed, and Lily really doesn't want to look. "Someone has left two sets of delicious candlelit meals!" He points to the pair of three-course meals set on the table by to two lit candles, fancy napkins, and the best silver cutlery. It looks all very romantic. "How strange!" James strokes his chin.
"Indeed," Lily agrees with suspicion.
"Wait, sir," a house elf intrudes, "I thought you asked us specifically to set the food out—"
"SSSSSHH," James hushes the elf. "Well, we can't let the food go to waste; there are Muggles starving in Africa! Let's eat!"
Just as Lily is about to decline, James forces her to sit down and pushes the plate of food in front of her nose. She plans wringing his neck as he takes the seat opposite, tucking a napkin into his collar and cutting up his chicken.
"Wine, miss?" a house elf asks, gesturing to her empty goblet.
"Oh, yes please—wait a second. This looks like a date!"
James looks back at her with innocent eyes. "No it doesn't."
"Would you and your date like to move on to dessert, sir?"
Hot chicken is promptly thrown in James' face. By Lily. At much speed.
When James and Lily arrive at their next destination to search for Padfoot, the Prefects Bathroom, it's clear James has lost a lot of enthusiasm to find his beloved pet. Having hot chicken tossed in his face had not put him in the best of moods.
"Why are we in here? I thought dogs didn't like water."
"You never know,"James responds with a shrug.
Lily can only seeing a bath full of football-sized, lavender bubbles. No dogs.
"I don't see your dog - can we go?"
Lily looks up from a bath and finds James dressed in a bathrobe. She can see a glimpse of his chest peeking through; he's definitely naked. Lily is impressed by how quickly James got undressed…
Mildly.
"What are you doing?" Lily sputters in horror. She tries hard not to blush but it's simply not viable.
"Well, I thought, while we're here and that, and I'm feeing especially unclean today, why not have a bath?"
Lily accepts his answer; he's allowed to have a bath. Lily can leave so he'll have his privacy and they can search for his pet later--
"Together!"
Lily throws him in the water.
James waits for her to jump in after.
She doesn't.
"My hair's all soggy now—"
"Oh shut up, you big girl's blouse."
After having a chicken lobbed at his face and being thrown into a bathtub head first, James is hanging by a thread. His plan is not going as intended. Maybe he was just a little too optimistic (or delusional, whatever word you prefer) in thinking Lily Evans would dine with him, and Lily Evans would even bathe in the same water as him.
"PADFOOT!"
He and Lily are in Hogwarts grounds searching for Padfoot. It's so dark they can barely see where they're going, even with their wands. It's late now. A half moon glows and stars glitter prettily down at them.
"PADFOOT!" James yells again, pointing his wand around wildly.
"Potter," Lily whines, "Potter, I want to go inside. It's late and I'm cold."
Wordlessly, James hands her his robes and continues to search, bounding over rocks and grass. "Pads!" he calls.
"Potter," Lily starts gently, grateful for his robe to wear as a second layer, but cautious on wearing it (the pockets are moving as though they're filled with living things). "This is pointless. I'll tell you what, why don't we go back in the castle, have a nice hot drink, and we'll look for your dog tomorrow?"
"No." Lily watches his shoulders slump sadly and he stares up at the sky. "No, I don't want to look tomorrow," he tells the heavens. His resolute determination in finding his pet dog intrigues her slightly.
"I don't want to leave you out here alone in case you end up falling in a ditch somewhere." She uses casual tones, an effort to sound as though she doesn't care; she doesn't want to give him the wrong impression that she cares about him or anything... "I'm going inside," she decides.
"Don't go."
Two simple words that make her change her mind.
Without warning, James stretches out his arms and starts spinning on the spot while looking up at the sky with the silliest smile on his face. Lily laughs absurdly at his behaviour.
"What are you doing?"
"Try it," James says, still spinning like a madman. "Focus on one star and spin."
How inane, Lily thinks, but she thinks, what else has she got to lose?
"Which star?" she asks James curiously.
He stops spinning to point at a star in particular. "That one," he says. "That one right there."
Lily shakes out her arms and legs and pulls her head back as far as it'll go to look upwards. Like the wind, she twirls, gradually experiencing light-headedness.
"Faster!" James soon challenges her.
"I feel sick!" Lily complains, but she's laughing, because this is the most fun she's had in ages.
Eventually overcome with such dizziness and disorientation they can no longer stay upright, they collapse back into the damp grass in a fit of giggles and hilarity. Lily knows she's going to get a damp bottom and people are going to ask her why she's got a damp bottom and if she tells them it was James Potter's fault it'll sound very shady indeed. Watching the stars, Lily recalls the term 'star-crossed lovers' and wonders if she has one. She sits up on her elbows and studies James bathed in moonlight.
"You love that dog, don't you?"
James smiles. A genuine, honest smile with no sly intention behind it, and Lily's stomach flutters.
"Yeah. He's like my best friend."
"This 'lost dog' doesn't exist and this has all been an elaborate scheme to make me fall in love with you, hasn't it?"
"Yes and I'm sorry," James apologizes like wildfire. "Can't blame a bloke for trying, eh?"
"No," Lily disagrees, "You can blame a bloke for trying, and I'm blaming you for still trying." A chuckle leaves James' mouth. "Seriously Potter, you need to stop with these schemes. It's unhealthy."
"I'm fine," he insists, "and I'm healthy." He seizes her hand and places it on top of his forehead to feel his temperature. "Feel that? Normal."
"You're as cold as ice-cream."
"Well, I was foolish enough to give my robe away."
"Well, who's to blame for that?"
"The girl who hasn't got enough fat on her to insulate and keep her warm."
"What am I, a seal?"
"Sorry, but can you take your hand away now?"
"Sorry," Lily apologizes, pulling her hand away in embarrassment.
"Actually, put it back. My forehead is cold."
Looking tremendously confused, Lily puts her hand back on his forehead, looking cautious. Her hand is sweaty and she hopes he doesn't notice.
"Your hand is sweaty."
And his eyelashes brush the curve of her hand. She thinks he's opening and closing his eyes on purpose.
"Stop that, it tickles," she reprimands him. His forehead feels warmer now. "Potter, I think I'm enjoying your company and it scares me."
"What's so scary about that?"
"Potter, I'm not joking."
"Bloody hell," James sits up, looking genuinely alarmed. "That is scary! Next you'll be saying you're contemplating kissing me! Wouldn't that be ridiculous?"
"Perhaps it's too late?"
"Really?"
"No."
"Then why are you so close I can feel your breath?"
"Haven't got the foggiest idea."
Perhaps it will happen after all, James thinks, as he draws close to Lily. Perhaps he didn't need daft ideas to win the girl all along? Just a patch of grass and a starry night. James puckers his lips and prepares to kiss the girl of his dreams...
Something is growling. Something is growling and gnawing at his foot and—oh god, pointy, pointy things are piercing his ankle.
James tells himself to ignore it. Just a little closer, he chants, his lips almost touching Lily's, until he can no longer ignore it when the pointy things tug at his trouser leg and he falls onto his back on the wet grass with a thud. He waves goodbye to Lily's lips and turns on the culrpit of whatever pulled him back to earth with a glare:
Sirius in Animagus form. Slobbering all over his shoes.
"I thought you didn't have a dog," Lily says.
"Neither did I," James grumbles, forming a plan to kill Sirius later for interrupting them. "Anyway, where were we?" Hoping to finish off where they left off, he sweeps down for a second chance to kiss her. Just as James is close enough to smell the strawberry balm coating Lily's lips, Padfoot digs his teeth into James' foot again, and James cries out in anger. He appears to be making a game of it as he wiggles James' foot in his mouth like it's a chew toy . Lily, someone partial to animals, finds it cute.
"Get off, you mongrel!"
She isn't partial to that.
"Lighten up, Potter," Lily's says sourly. "He's just having fun."
"It's not fun when you aren't able to feel your foot!" James jumps to his feet and moves his foot to fro violently and frantically, much to Lily's horror. However, Padfoot seems to have acquired a firm grip. "Padfoot, you twat!"
"Potter, don't do that!" Lily watches the dog practically floating in the air by James' trouser leg. "And don't shout at him either! You'll scare him!"
"He's used to it."
Lily gasps at him.
"Padfoot. Padfoot, let go! Do you want me to boot you in the face again?"
Lily gasps again.
"Potter, you make me sick!"
James stops trying to free his foot from Padfoot's mouth and responds with a bewildered, "What?"
"How can you treat your dog like that? It's cruel!"
Gently, Lily pries Padfoot's mouth off James' trouser leg, picks him up and settles him in her arms like a newborn baby. She strokes Padfoot's fur and scratches that spot behind his ears for him.
"I'm keeping this dog firmly away from you, Potter," Lily spits at James, holding Padfoot close to her chest. "And Black, too."
She throws him a dirty look before storming back to the castle. Padfoot is peeking over her shoulder. Dogs can't smirk, but this one can.
James decides neutering will be a suitable enough punishment for Sirius.