It was hard to believe the differences in Wizarding England compared to Muggle England. In Muggle England, punk rock was being born, a rally against the psychedelic era that had prevaded much of the earlier decade. The Muggle economy was struggling through a rough decade, though some sparks of life were beginning to show. People were angry, but you could see the light of life on every Muggle's face. They were fighting.

Wizarding England wasn't concerned with fighting any status quo. A crafty Minister of Magic, Ian Richards, had secured their spot as one of the world's premiere Wizarding nations, and a global Wizarding currency helped ensure a prosperous financial status for their nation. Their complacency, however, had undermined them. In a decade where much of the Wizarding population was worry-free, it had left its underbelly exposed, with enough room for a conniving, powerful Dark wizard to sneak through the cracks.

The attack in Manchester, an attack that was wildly public and impossibly out in the open, suddenly showed how big those cracks had become. As Muggle England was beginning to show signs of life, Wizarding England was having the life sucked out of it. The attack was a demoralizing blow for the populace, one that was willing to write off the recent rash of disappearances and strange deaths as something less than sinister, and forced them to come to grips with the reality of dark times ahead.

Young people are always more willing to see things changing than their older counterparts. The dread mood that had hung over Hogwart's since the beginning of the 1975/1976 school year was a precursor, a foreshadowing, of the war that was coming. For a short while, the Marauders had lifted the deadened spirit of the school. Not enough to change the world outside, but enough to ignore it, until a black envelope - a color that would come to signify death for those inside the castle - was dropped surreptitiously in front of a red-headed, muggle-born, Gryffindor prefect.

The mood came crashing down and, for those who knew anything of the two worlds, it was hard to believe the differences between the two.

* * * * * * * *

Lily stared at the two records, incredulous. They were both new releases, one from a Muggle band, one from from the Wizarding world. The idea that both kinds of music could be around, be in people's mind, at the same time, seemed ridiculous. The Sex Pistols' Never Mind the Bollocks was full of personality, fire, quick and angry retorts. A will to fight, even if, especially if, there was nothing to actually fight. The Bubble Charms' Different Shades of Grey sat next to it, a record whose tone was both trying to ignore the hardships of the time, yet still wholly lifeless because of them.

The fact that both belonged to James Potter was surprising to Lily, to say the least.

Their late night meetings had accidentally become a sort of silent routine. Every night that Lily couldn't fall asleep in her dorm, she'd come out to find James, staring at the fire. The night immediately after their fight, she was frustrated to find him there again. It felt, somehow, that he was invading her space, though he was actually there before her. Lily sat down again on the couch, too stubborn not to claim her own stake of the Common Room.

The two had sat in silence, acknowledging, yet not acknowledging, the other. After about an hour of silence, James had slouched in his seat, his eyelids drooping heavily. He stifled a yawn as he had made to pull the chair out into a recliner.

"You were right," Lily had said quietly, interrupting his action.

"'Course I was," James had mumbled sleepily, "'Bout what?"

"Other people have problems, too, and-" Lily had began.

"Merlin, Evans, you choose then, of all times, to listen to me?" James had said, rolling his head back onto the chair, "Your parents died."

Lily stiffened, still unused to James abrupt tactlessness when dealing with the situation, "I think I know that, thanks," she had said, turning away from him.

"Bloody hell, you know what I mean," James had replied, "That you should have just wrote it off as me being a prat and left it."

James comment was met with silence. Lily did her best to not feel awkward in the space their words were occupying a few seconds ago, but found she couldn't do it.

"Thing is," She had began, her tone softer, "For once, you weren't being a prat."

"Well, whatever," James had said, his tone acknowledging both aspects of the back-handed compliment, "It's over. Let's just enjoy the fire."

With that evening, the ritual had begun. Lily spent only two or three nights a week sleeping in the Common Room, but she suspected that James had been spending every night there. She also began to suspect that his friends didn't know. Every morning at about four, James would wake up and sneak back up to his dorm, inevitably prompting Lily to do the same.

The dorm had turned into an awkward place for her. While she had many friends among the girls, she avoided talking about the situation with any of them, even Michelle. For their part, the girls let her have her space, offering words of encouragement or simply a smile.

The mood around Hogwart's, however, had darkened. The Marauders had stopped their games in the wake of the black envelope and the morale of the castle had suffered as a result. The whispers and paranoia that had cropped up over the course of the school year had returned in spades, more aggressive for its short hiatus.

Lily could feel the glances as she walked the halls. People fell into one of two categories, it seemed, those that seemed to treat her as glass, as if she might break at any moment, and those who, Lily thought, resented her for the returned awful Hogwart's mood. While many of the students who Lily mentally accused this of did not, in fact, feel this way, the perception of such emotions was beginning to drive Lily crazy.

It was this feeling that drove the night she had received the two vinyl records she was looking at now.

After a particularly difficult lesson, one in which she could feel the stares of students on her with an intensity she had never felt before, she had stormed into the Gryffindor Common Room, knowing full well that the Marauders had free period. Predictably, the foursome had been there, playing a rather uninspired game of Exploding Snap.

"What is your problem?!" Lily had demanded of the group in general, though looking at James specifically.

"Uh," James had began, "Hi, Evans?"

"Get over here," She had growled dangerously.

James looked back at his friends, questions playing on his lips. Sirius and Remus had shrugged, obviously unsure of what to make of Lily's outburst. Peter was simply watching, shrinking back a bit from Lily's obvious anger. James begrudgingly left the card game, allowing Lily to pull him into an alcove of the Common Room.

"I ask again, what is your problem?" Lily had asked in a deadly hiss.

"Evans," James had began calmly, trying to ignore their proximity, "I. Don't. Know. What. You're. Talking. About."

At the perceived slight on her intelligence, Lily had punched James in the arm.

"No pranks for the past week and a half," Lily had began, getting into a rant, "It's almost April Fool's and Remus told me on patrol the other day that you guys aren't doing anything. The entire school is looking to you for how to act and ever since my," Here Lily stumbled, "Ever since that blasted envelope, you've been acting... acting..." Lily searched for a word, but couldn't find one, "I don't know! But everyone is mad at me for how you're acting and I shouldn't have to bloody deal with that!"

"Merlin, Lily," James had said back in a low voice, "We put off on the pranks and games out of bloody respect," James stressed the word with a definitive hand gesture.

"Oh, please," Lily had scoffed, "You barely respect any of the teachers, let alone me."

"No one blames you for your parents dying," James had continued, ignoring Lily's interjection, "That's just you being crazy,"

"Crazy?!" Lily had exclaimed loudly, drawing some attention to their conversation. James, annoyed, cast a quick Muffiato, turning Lily around in the alcove and shooting an annoyed glance at the other Common Room inhabitants.

"Wow," Lily had continued, angrily, "Crazy. I'm in grief and you're calling me crazy. You're such a bloody wonderful person, James."

"You are!" James had hissed, "It's not our fault people around the school are looking at you like you might explode. Hell, Evans, you've barely talked to anyone about any of this-"

"And how would you know that?!" Lily had replied.

"I've talked to some of the Gryffindor sixth year girls," James had admitted, trying to gloss over the fact. Taking advantage of the shocked expression on Lily's face, he had continued, "And I've been in the library sometimes when Diggory or someone else tries to ask you about it. You're strong, Evans, but you can't keep it all inside."

"And how would you know about any of this?" Lily had demanded, again unwilling to acknowledge the truth behind his words. The idea of a James Potter who knew something about life, knew something about grief, was something she couldn't immediately process.

"Christ, Evans," James had spat, walking away without another word.

Later that night, again unable to sleep, she slipped down to the Common Room, somehow still surprised to see James down there. It was a form of Gryffindor bravery that drove her to sit next to him in what she had mentally come to call "her" couch, bravery to face someone who you knew you had upset.

"We're going to trade," James had said, startling her with his statement that had been, seemingly apropos nothing.

"What?" Lily had asked.

"I'm going to tell you how I 'would know about any of this'," James had said, using air quotes to sarcastically throw her words from earlier that day back at her, "And you're going to talk about how you're feeling about your parents."

"You can't just make someone talk about something, Potter," Lily had scoffed.

"This isn't a negotiation," James had said shortly.

"Fine," Lily stamped out.

James had not taken his eyes off of the fireplace since Lily had come down, but, after a quick moment of silence, he tore his gaze away from the everlasting flame and caught eyes with her. Lily didn't make any outward reaction, but she noticed quickly how intense his gaze was, and the sadness that lay beneath them.

"My parents are old," James had started simply.

He had paused for a few moments, trying to think of how to continue. In the awkward silence, Lily, not sure where this was going, had let out a half-chuckle, "What?"

"I know," James had acquiesced, "Dumb way to begin, but it's true. They're old. A lot older than most of the parents."

"Okay," Lily had prompted, still not understanding.

"A few years ago, second year it was, they both came down with Cardiactus," At Lily's confused look, he had continued, "It's a Wizard's disease. It affects the heart."

James had looked back towards the flames, unable to see the soft expression on Lily's face. He had been silent for a long two or three minutes, lost in his own world. She could barely make out his face, but Lily could see the fear in his eyes, something she had never expected to see from James Potter.

"James," Lily had finally said quietly, reaching out towards him.

Quickly, James had spun back towards Lily, causing her to quickly retract her hand, "I don't know if you've ever seen an older person with a Wizarding illness..." James had said, willfully ignoring the moment that had just passed, "Magic helps a person's body stay younger, yeah? So when they get sick like that, well, most Wizard's illnesses attack a person's magic. The first thing to go is their outward appearance."

Here James had taken an unnecessarily large breath, looking away again. This time, however, he didn't let the silence pervade for very long.

"I'm watching my parents die," James had said plainly, in the blunt, abrupt way that Lily was now coming to see was just a part of his character, "For four years, I've been watching them die. And, fucking hell, this sounds selfish, but I envy you. I envy you for not having to watch your parents slowly disintegrate. I hate watching them walk around and try to do things as if nothing is different, when it is. When they have to sit down after walking across a room. When they pour themselves wine but don't drink it at dinner."

"I'm sorry," Lily had whispered. She wasn't sure if he had heard her or was simply ignoring her when he plowed on.

"Sirius is moving in after school this summer," James had said, "They love him. He gets them to act a little bit stronger. But fuck," James cursed, his hand crashing down on his knee.

There was a long silence. James had, once again, turned his attention to the Common Room fireplace, finding some sort of solace there.

"I'm not sure where I'll go after school," Lily had said, snapping James out of his stupor, "My sister and I haven't been close ever since I got my letter from Hogwart's. In third year she wrote Dumbledore to see if she could get in, even though she was a Muggle, and I read his reply. I don't think she's ever trusted me again after that."

She had paused, looking at James, who was staring back at her, encouragingly. It was funny, she had taken a moment to notice, how it was James Potter, with his bullying insistence, his utter refusal to be tactful, was the one who finally was getting her to talk.

"So, it's like I don't have her, either," Lily had continued, "She moved in with her boyfriend on her 18th birthday. She was so angry with our parents for treating me like the precious daughter. She just wanted to get away. Sometimes I think it might be harder for her, having to have held all that anger in towards them and now never being able to deal with it properly."

Lily had sighed, thinking of how to continue, she had been slightly surprised that she hadn't started crying yet, "Sometimes I don't know what I'm supposed to do? How do you live with no parents? I'm doing it right now, but I still don't know the answer. I mean," At this moment she had looked at James directly in the eyes, a sort of helplessness in her features, "How do you act the way you do? So carefree and happy? With what's going on?"

James had smiled slightly, pulling a pair of square objects from his backpack that he had lying at his feet, "Figured it would come to that question," He had said, vaguely amused, "Listen to both of these, Lily," He handed her the two records, Lily taking them without looking at them. She was still looking at James oddly, as if to question what he was doing, "You gotta have both," is all James had replied.

He had walked back up to his dorm, then, leaving a flabbergasted Lily behind. She walked back up to her own dorm, looking at the records in turn. She hadn't heard either of them, but could see the duality even in their covers. The pink, gaudy cover the Sex Pistols record was a stark contrast the black and gray cover of the Bubble Charms.

When she listened to both of them, back to back, she understood what James meant. He wasn't just talking about moods, or music. He was talking, in a subtle way, about Muggles and Wizards, about ideologies and history and culture. But mostly, he was talking about his own personal life manifesto: You made it through by accepting that you couldn't always make it through. You fought even if there was nothing to actually fight, but even harder when there was. It was okay to feel defeated, as long as you weren't.

You had to have both.

Lily put down both the records, knowing that her free period was almost over. On her way out towards her class, she ran into Remus.

"Tell James that you guys should do your April Fool's prank. For me," She said, not stopping to see his reply or reaction. She walked, smiling genuinely and fully for the first time since the black envelope, to her class.

"Okay," was all Remus could say, even though she had already gone.