A/N: Here we are! I just want to preface this a bit by saying that I will not be ignoring Peter, and I will not be writing him as a stupid, useless rat. He was a Marauder, and I will treat him as such. Other than that, I hope you like this chapter! Especially the end segment, because that was completely a last-minute decision; I was going to end it with the second one, but... you guys are awesome. So! Enough of my rambling. An enormous, loving thank you to all my readers and reviewers and my supportive beta Zayz, and to Viv, who is just fantastic.

Please read; please review!
As always,
Mina :)

FOUR: LILIACEAE

"Peter?"

He was out of breath when he jogged up to us. A slight sheen of sweat shone on his forehead and his green t-shirt stuck to his stomach. The falling sun caught the gold in his hair as he doubled over, panting and grabbing his knees.

I was motionless in surprise. Peter?

"Stand up so you can breathe," Dorcas said, moving to him. The height difference between them was comical: Amazonian Dorcas and small, stout Peter. She rubbed slow circles on his back as he struggled for air. "You crunch up your diaphragm when you bend over like that."

The dog was bigger than what you'd expect a normal dog to be, with soft, inky black fur and bright silver eyes. It lay down with its head on my knee, and my hand automatically went to pet its head as Peter unfolded himself, clinging to Dorcas' arm.

"I don't – know what that – means," Peter gasped.

Dorcas shook her head, hiding an amused eye-roll. "It means that you breathe better when you stand up straight."

"What are you doing here?" I finally asked when the surprise released its hold on my mouth. It was so strange to see Peter, of all people, at my house. And if this was Potter's dog, I thought, my hand still petting his head, did that mean Potter was around? Did he come to finish our row? To tell me he never wanted to speak to me ever again?

With sudden anxiety, my next question came out in a rush. "Are you alone?"

Dorcas raised an eyebrow, but Peter just shook his head, oblivious. "No? I mean, yes! Yes. It's just me and him. Snuffles. My dog. We, ah, we were in the neighborhood. I didn't know you lived over here. I live a ways that way," he rambled, pointing in a vague direction across the street. "Funny, really, how close we live. My house and your house. Yes."

Snuffles buried his muzzle underneath his paw.

We were quiet then, Peter's hoarse breathing mingling with the gradual introduction of cricket song as the sky turned a rainbow of colors, the sun sinking lower into the sky. I pulled my wand from the bun in my hair, hoping nobody would happen to look out of their windows, and conjured Peter a glass of water from the kitchen. Snuffles had my leg captive, so I had to levitate the glass across the few feet of glass separating me from Peter.

The poor kid drained it in a few seconds. He smiled sheepishly, held it out to me, and I banished it back to the kitchen.

"Thanks, Lily."

Dorcas sat down again, satisfied that Peter was not going to pass out, and bumped into me with her shoulder. The look she gave me conveyed our shared relief that Peter was, indeed, alone, and our confusion that Peter was here, alone, in the first place.

"So," she said, motioning to Snuffles. The awkwardness was painful. "This one's a rascal, then?"

"Yeah." Peter glared at the dog. "Stupid prat. Got away from me just as I turned the corner."

Snuffles gave an indignant bark.

I laughed, scratching him behind the ears. He spun onto his back and I bent down to rub the soft fur on his neck. "Don't give him such a hard time," I mock-whispered to him, doubting my sanity only a second for talking to a dog. "Peter's such a little thing."

Peter sighed, allowing that, then flopped to the ground in front of Dorcas and I. His attempt to settle was a bit alarming; Peter and I have never been close –I've always steadfastly avoided the Marauders, save for Remus, and though Peter is a nice guy, we've never exactly had a real conversation before – so to see him make himself comfortable like he was actually about to try to talk with Dorcas and I was disconcerting. What on earth would we have in common besides school? He had to be here to talk about Potter.

"I'm supposed to talk to you," he said without segue. He glanced at Snuffles, who went still under my hand, before stumbling on. "I-I mean, it's not like anybody making me talk to you. I like you guys. We're friends."

It sounded like a question. We're friends? I wanted to laugh at the heavy discomfort in the air, but Dorcas pinched the skin on my wrist and nodded, smiling reassuringly. "Of course we're friends, Peter."

His eyes brightened. "I, uh, well. I don't know how to say this. It's… Remus was going to come, but he got sick, and –"

I felt a low growl underneath my palm and looked down to see Snuffles bearing his teeth at Peter. I frowned at the dog's sudden display of hostility and watched, bewildered, as Peter put up his hands, shaking his head frantically and trying to backtrack. "No, Remus is at home, you know, for the summer. With his mother. Who is sick. I was walking Snuffles because I live close, right over there, and, uh, I thought I would come talk to you. About yesterday? If that's okay?"

I sat back, leaning on my hands, and stared at Peter. Potter can't have sent Peter to come talk to me. It seems incredibly unlike him – and why would he send Peter, of all people? Unless Peter's telling the truth, and he just wanted to talk to me on his own? But when has Peter ever talked to me because he wanted to?

Dorcas must've been thinking along the same lines, because she said, simply, "What?"

"I was worried," Peter said, slowly, as if concentrating on what he was supposed to be saying. I raised an eyebrow at him. He started ripping up blades of grass and Snuffles, discontent with not being paid any attention, swaggered to Peter's side and sat like a sentinel. He nudged Peter's face with his muzzle and Peter continued, avoiding our eyes. "Because you looked… upset yesterday, and I wanted to see if you were, you know, okay."

"I'm fine…" I said. "Um, thank you, though, Peter. It's very kind of you to ask."

This whole situation was too surreal. I looked around, waiting for somebody to jump out of the bushes and shout, "Gotcha!" But it was just Peter, Dorcas, and I, sitting on my front lawn with a strange guard-dog watching us with those eerily sentient eyes. I was distracted momentarily by the porch light flicking on, and only then did I realize that the sun was sliding behind the trees and twilight was upon us. It was almost able to hide the blush spreading across Peter's pale cheeks.

My suspicion forced its question: "Did Potter make you come and talk to me?"

Again, he glanced at Snuffles before answering, "No. I was worried about you. I've never seen you cry before."

"Ah," I said. And then, because it was quiet, because Potter's voice was whispering Why, Lily? in my head with the rising shadows, because sometimes my mouth had no censor: "Is he, um, okay?"

Snuffles' head cocked to the side. I would've sworn his silvery eyes narrowed the slightest bit.

Disconcerted, I looked to Peter, who glanced between Dorcas and I, at the pile of shredded grass in his lap, then sighed. "H-He's doing okay. He was a little upset at first, but it's James. He bounces back fast." He shrugged. "At least, that's what Remus said."

We turned as one at the sound of the front door opening. Light spilled onto the porch and my mother scanned the yard to make sure Dorcas and I hadn't run away or something.

"Lily," she called out, skipping down the porch steps. "I burnt dinner past repair, so I'm just going to ring for take-out." She made it halfway down the walk before noticing the extra person on the yard and gasped a small, "Oh!"

I stood up, brushing the grass from my shorts, and motioned to Peter. "Mum, this is Peter Pettigrew. He's a Gryffindor in my year. He was just passing through the neighborhood and wanted to say hello. Peter, this is my mother."

Peter stumbled to his feet and grasped my mother's hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Evans."

She chuckled, giving him a kind smile. "And you as well, Peter. Would you like to stay for dinner? We were going to have a roast, but I got distracted in a book and left it in the oven for far too long, I'm afraid. You're welcome to stay, if you'd like."

Dorcas, who'd gotten to her feet, threw me an alarmed glance. Petunia hadn't taken well to Dorcas at all when she arrived yesterday, and I could only imagine how she'd react to bumbling Peter, whose magic – and mouth – oftentimes fell out of his control. More than that, though, I was afraid of her hurting his feelings and insulting what little pride he did have. I subtly shook my head at Mum, trying to warn her with my eyes. Not a good idea, Mum. Not a good idea. Not a good idea.

Thankfully, Snuffles had clamped his teeth into the hem of Peter's long shorts and started tugging him towards the road.

Peter huffed, pushing the dog off. "A-apologies, Mrs. Evans. I have to get home. My mum is actually making dinner and she n-needs my help. She's, ah, she's kind of sick."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Mum said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Maybe another time, huh?"

Peter looked staggered as he gently disengaged himself. "Y-yes, maybe another time. Thanks. Bye Lily, Dorcas. Mrs. Evans."

He started off down the walk. I followed Mum and Dorcas as they started inside, but was stopped at the first stair when Snuffles barked and gently nipped at my fingertips.

I turned to see him sitting at my feet, peering up at me with that silly, questioning tilt to his head. Feeling ridiculous, I knelt down and ruffled the fur on his neck. "Be nice to Peter," I told him.

He licked my face in response; I took that as an acquiesce, but as he pranced after Peter, I had the suspicion that the rapid wag of his tail was far too devious.

"Barmy mutt," I mumbled to myself, gripping the railing as I jumped the stairs. I was pulling open the door when there was another nip at my fingers.

When I turned this time, Snuffles nuzzled his nose into my palm before barking softly and sprinting off after Peter like a small, black bullet. I stood there, alone, twilight fading to night around the bright lights of my home, and had no explanation for the sudden rush of emotion in my heart. Because somehow, from an animal that seemed too damn intelligent for its own good, that simple gesture felt like an apology.

"Lily?"

I shook my head clear. No more whispers. Not tonight.

"Coming, Mum."

-QS-

"Well, today was interesting."

"Yeah."

Dorcas tossed a pillow at me. "Yeah. Peter's not a good liar."

I pulled my head through my nightshirt and stared at her. "You really think it was Potter's idea?"

"I don't think it was Peter's," she stressed, sitting on my bed and brushing out her hair. "I've never known Peter to take any account of how you're feeling. It was just odd."

"Yeah."

"I'm not saying James didn't have a hand in it, but then it doesn't seem like something James would do," she said. Then, frowning, "Unless it was Sirius or Remus, but I don't think they'd go behind his back like that, do you?"

"No."

Sitting her brush down, she sighed, obviously exasperated with my preoccupation, and pulled her journal and quill onto her lap. I knew I'd get a few minutes alone then, and as I tugged a pair of pajama shorts on, I eyed my small owl, Diana, sleeping on her perch in the corner of my room. I should send a message. I should.

Brave Lily Evans would, but it seemed like I had left her behind in a castle fortress of magic and was now the little girl who could fly off swing sets only sometimes, who walked around with bruised knees and scratched elbows. Even she had been daring, but I was too afraid to fall, now. At seventeen years old, I knew how hard I could fall if I jumped, how there wouldn't be any magic to float me gently to the ground.

He's doing okay. He was a little upset at first, but it's James. He bounces back fast. At least, that's what Remus said.

I didn't know what to make of it. Remus would make it sound nicer than it actually was, and I couldn't rely on his vague courteousness. I kicked myself for not asking more probing questions, but what was I supposed to have said? Hey, Peter, I fancy your best mate; care to go back home and owl him about it? No. If anybody was going to tell him, it had to be me. Eventually. Maybe.

I sat down at my desk. There was a stack of parchment already there from my last Christmas holiday, when I sat here to write Dorcas and Siobhan letters, organizing get-togethers and inquiring about their holidays. Picking up a chewed-on muggle pen, I stared out of the window above my desk at the pale sliver of moon and wondered how I should even start.

How does one go about groveling for forgiveness?

"The beginning's always a good place to, you know, begin," Dorcas whispered. When I turned around to glower at her, she had her nose glued to her journal, her quill flying across the page.

I turned my back to her and started biting the end of my pen. "Could you not do that?"

"It's not my fault you're easy to read."

"It's not my fault I spend entirely too much time with you," I mumbled.

She didn't respond, and I took her silence to mean, Get to work.

I sat there for a while. A long, long while. Mum came in to bid us goodnight; Petunia stomped up the stairs and shouted that we needed to turn our profane, God-forsaken freak music down, though I could barely hear the song on the wireless, crooning about lost loves and broomstick flights above the clouds; and Dorcas finished writing in her journal and was now laying on my bed, reading the Prophet.

No. Nope. I couldn't do it. I hadn't even attempted to put the pen to paper – maybe that was the problem, trying to put a muggle instrument to wizarding parchment. I got up to dig through my yet-unpacked trunk for a quill when a modest, ruby-colored one flew across the room and landed in front of me.

I inhaled and closed my eyes. "You are getting on my nerves."

Dorcas laughed. "I'm going to bed, I'm knackered. You better write him tonight, Lily. Just write something. Write how you feel. And don't think I won't check with him tomorrow, because I will. Night!"

She closed the door behind me, and I was alone.

I scratched at my freckled legs as I sat back down. Diana made cute snoring-hooting noises on her perch, and I almost abandoned the whole idea so I wouldn't have to wake the poor thing up. She was a tiny, chocolate Pygmy owl, given to me for my twelfth birthday when Mum found out I was the only girl in my dorm without her own pet. She was a precious thing, always going on missions without complaint, preening when I gave her treats and flying around happily when I snuck her outside between classes.

"Why is this so hard?" I muttered to myself, burying my face in my hands. I shivered as a burst of wind shot through my window, bringing goosebumps to my arms and that stupid, stupid voice to my ears.

Why are you so afraid, Lily?

Because you scare me, I thought. Because you make me feel weak, like I'm just another victim of your charms. Because Dorcas can see through me. Because Severus hates you, and because now he will hate me even more. Because Siobhan will think I'm insane. Because I hate the look I put in your eyes, and because I don't know how to make it go away. Because I want to make it go away in the first place. Because this is new. Because you're there. Because you mean it.

Why can't you open your eyes, Lily?

Gripping Dorcas' quill, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and wrote:

James,
I'm sorry for lying when you asked me if things were still the same, I'm sorry for denying that I cared, and I'm sorry for not going after you when you walked away. I'm sorry that I'm afraid of you. I'm so, so sorry, and I just wanted you to know that you hadn't misinterpreted anything. I can see now.
Lily

And that was the extent of my courage. Maybe it was just enough for one last try. Maybe it would fix everything; then again, maybe it'd fix nothing, and it was far, far too late. Maybe I'd already done too much damage. Maybe he'd been too hurt to give me another chance. Maybe.

I planted a feather-light kiss on Diana's tiny head to wake her. She peered up at me, ruffling her feathers, and held out her foot obediently. I hesitated only a second, encouraged by the light in her gold eyes, before tying the parchment to her little leg and opening the window so she could carry away my confessions.

She hadn't come back when I fell asleep, hours later.

-QS-

"Lily! Wake up! Siobhan owled me this morning; she wants us to meet her at Florean's around four."

I felt like a sloth. I probably looked like one, too, when Dorcas pulled me out of bed and shoved me towards my dresser. My hair fell past my shoulders in tangled, chaotic waves, my eyes were hazy with sleep, and my clothes were rumpled and falling off their assigned body parts. I was so grateful that this mirror, at least, couldn't spew insults at me this morning.

"What time is it?" I grumbled, turning away so I wouldn't have to look at myself.

"Eleven."

Dorcas was nearly vibrating with excited curiosity as she perched on the edge of my bed. Her energy in the morning was unnatural and annoying and I moved around her, dragging a brush through my hair and twisting my wand into a sloppy bun at the back of my head. I would jump in the shower later, after some coffee hit my system. A few cups should take me from dead to merely tired, and maybe then I'd be able to deal with her.

But she was resistant to my grumpiness. "So you did send him a letter?"

It took a moment, while my brain woke up, to realize that Diana was not sitting on her perch. He'd kept her overnight? What did that mean? Lack of sleep made me irritated and just a bit more than annoyed, and I sunk onto the bed beside Dorcas, wringing my hands in my lap. What did that mean? Couldn't he have just sent his answer back yesterday?

"Diana's not back yet," I grumbled.

"I didn't think you'd go through with it."

"I did." I shrugged away from her when she tried to slide an arm around my shoulder. "What does it mean that she's not back?"

"She was hit by an airplane?"

"That is not funny."

"I don't know what it means, Lily. Maybe he's undecided, too. I can't pretend to know what's going through his mind," she said. After a pause, she stood up and took my hand. "Come on, let's go get you some caffeine. The kitchen's clear. Petunia went to Vernon's house already; apparently Marjorie's there to help her work on bridal plans or something."

"Have you been eavesdropping?" I asked her as we trudged down the stairs.

We entered the kitchen and I went straight for the pot of coffee. As I poured us two cups, Dorcas sat on the barstool and rolled her eyes. "You know she'd never talk to me voluntarily."

"I'm sorry if she's been vile to you," I said, handing her a mug. I poured creamer and sugar in mine, and she snatched the honey before I could get to it. The smell alone kept me from hexing her across the room. "She's – give it! – I won't excuse her behavior, but I think she's still sore about not getting a Hogwarts letter."

Dorcas nodded. I'd told her the story years ago, when the sting of Petunia's anger and jealously was still fresh. Since then, it was like Petunia had faded into a stranger while Dorcas gradually took her place. Instead of having a sister I was born with, I had a sister I chose, a sister who had been there for me, who proved herself closer than blood. I smiled at her, feeling the coffee working its magic already, just as my Mum came walking into the room on her lunch break.

She was also carrying a chocolate brown owl.

"Diana!" My heart picked up speed as I reached for her, letting her perch on my shoulder.

"She flew in just as you two came downstairs," Mum said, laughing, as she hooted softly in my ear.

Dorcas raised her eyebrows at me, sipping at her coffee. Well? her expression asked. I knew her well enough to know that she was just as anxious as I was behind that calm façade.

Mum gave me a mischievous smile as she pulled something from behind her back. I reached for it with a trembling hand.

It was a single white tulip, a ribbon the color of emeralds tied around its stem.

I could barely make out words. It had to be his response. It had to be. "Was there a letter?"

Mum kissed me on the forehead. "No letter. I have to get back to work before Smithley calls the boss again," she said, winking. She waved goodbye to Dorcas and was almost out of the house when she shouted over her shoulder, "Behave yourselves today!"

I murmured assurances to the closed door. I couldn't stop staring at the flower. Its petals were too soft, whiter than my legs in the winter, and I rubbed my fingers across them as I sat down next to Dorcas, my coffee forgotten. He couldn't be angry, if he had sent me a flower. But what did it mean that he didn't send a note? I didn't think it had gotten lost on the way, if he had sent one, because Diana would've let me know somehow. And it felt like this was a message on its own, with the green ribbon that was more beautiful than silk. A simple flower. A simple message.

I am not good at this caring thing, I thought, twisting the ribbon around the stem. Then, hesitantly, slowly, as if I didn't want to think it: He's doing this to me on purpose.

"Lily," Dorcas gasped. Her mug hit the counter with a thunk! "Have you studied flower meanings?"

Her suddenness forced my gaze from the flower. I couldn't read the look on her face. "Mum does. What do you – does this mean something?"

"White tulips," she whispered, "signify forgiveness."

It took me a long moment to remember how to breathe.