Leaving
Thursday, September 30, 1977
Dear Lily,
Thank you for your letter. I appreciate your honesty and I wish you only the best. I must confess, my feelings have not changed. I would like to remain friends. That would be nice.
Thomas
ooo
"Here, Lily, take this!"
"Why would I want a flag?" Lily grunted slightly as she sat down between Marlene McKinnon and Alejandro Marquez, Isabella's little brother. She shivered; why did they have play Quidditch on the coldest day of September? "Marlene, you're not even in Gryffindor!"
Marlene smiled cheerfully, her brown eyes large and dark and rather intense in such a small face. Lily often thought that Marlene had rather pixie-like features, what with her cropped blonde hair and pert little nose. A menacing pixie, though, the sort that pulled your hair and bit you. In other words, a real pixie, not one of the ones from Lily's childhood storybooks. "If Gryffindor wins, we get to beat 'em up next week. I'd rather fight them – I've got a bone to pick with Black." Marlene was the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain – last year, she'd gone head to head with Gryffindor, and, well, needless to say, the Cup was currently in Ravenclaw's possession.
"Be careful with that one," Lily said lightly, though what she really wanted to do was run and warn Black. Marlene frightened her. "He might cry." She thought a moment, then added, "He also has cronies." She scanned the skies, but she couldn't pick out either Isabella or Fiona. "When did they start?"
"About fifteen minutes ago. Where were you?" Marlene said, handing over the small, red-and-gold flag, which glittered when Lily waved it experimentally.
"Erm, finishing up an essay for Mc-what's-her-face," Lily replied absentmindedly, still craning her neck. She heard Michelle Lockwood's loud voice over the din of the crowd. "AAAANNNNDDD…POTTER'S IN POSSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE, AND HE'S – WAIT FOR IT – WILL BONES BLOCK THE SHOT?" The crowd roared its appreciation and Lily gave up on looking for Isabella, turning her head to look for Potter instead, catching him just as he flipped upside down, waved at the crowd, and flung the Quaffle neatly through the center hoop. "TEN POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR! AND MARQUEZ IS IN POSSESSION, BUT – WAIT – OOOH!" and so on and so forth. It was all the same, people flying back and forth, throwing a ball around. Lily tuned out Lockwood's nasal boom and pulled out a book. She'd never really liked Quidditch games. It wasn't that she minded the game itself; it was just that she usually ended up going alone, since Fiona was the Seeker and Isabella a Chaser, and Emmeline hated going to these things but always loved the after parties.
In fact, where was Emmeline today? Lily wrinkled her brow. Down by the lake? In their dorm? But then she remembered, and so relaxed. That's right. She was with Fabian Prewett, walking in Hogsmeade, probably. Rumor had it that the Prewett brothers were at Hogwarts this weekend on business for Dumbledore, but rumor didn't know what for, exactly.
Marlene poked her in the shoulder, hard, yanking her from her thoughts. "Finishing up an essay? And now you're reading?" She sounded horrified by the very idea. "Lighten up, Evans."
"I have a ton of work this weekend," Lily replied, cracking the book open. She didn't usually watch Quidditch – as long as she was here, she figured that counted as moral support for Fee and Izzy, right? With a faint sigh, Lily ran her finger down the lines until she found where she'd left off. She used to be one of those girls who absolutely threw a fit when people did things to books (cracking their bindings, leaving them out, etc.), but now, out of sheer laziness, she dog-eared books all the time (not that she ever let Fiona know it – Fee was still mad at her about that time in sixth year when Lily had lectured her and taken away her book).
"But Evans, you've got the whoooooole weekend! It's Friday, for Merlin's sake!" Marlene wrenched the book away from Lily before the redhead could stop her. Next thing she knew, Marlene was sitting on the damn thing. Double damn. "Live a little!"
"But I've got this application for a job –"
"McGonagall got to you, did she?"
"Yeah – doesn't Hufflepuff have these Career things too?" In the last couple of weeks, Lily had gotten interested in what all her friends were doing with their lives. For some reason, nobody was being very vocal about it all.
Marlene nodded. "I sent in my applications for the Department of Mysteries last week."
"You can apply to the Department of Mysteries?"
"Yup. But I don't think I'll get the job. Hey, do you want some Butterbeer?" She pulled out a flask.
"How did you get Butterbeer?" Lily sipped it gratefully, glad of the warmth. On her other side, she knew that Alejandro was probably staring at them, wondering what the two seventh-years were doing with a flask. Marlene thought she was hip; the rest of the school just thought her strange. But that was Marlene for you – too cool for Hogwarts, and frightening to boot. Lily had often thought over the years that Marlene was left alone because students simply didn't know how to handle her bleak opinions and fierce passion for Quidditch as well as anti-discrimination acts for magical creatures. Nonetheless, Lily always went out of her way to talk to the other girl. It was refreshing to be around someone who was bluntly honest and completely without tact.
"Oh, I have my ways…" She grinned wickedly, taking the Butterbeer back and stowing it in her coat.
"You are a clever girl." Lily leaned back on her elbows, resigning herself to actually watching the game for the first time in a couple years. "Is it that passage by that one-eyed witch?" The wind whipped her hair into her face and she, irritated, brushed the red strands out of her eyes. When had her hair gotten so thick and wavy? There was just so much of it; she wondered if she looked even passably attractive today. Probably not. Several seconds of silence had passed. Lily turned her head slightly, only to find Marlene staring at her, mouth open. "What's wrong?"
Marlene narrowed her eyes. "How do you know about that passage?" Lily cast her a warning look and jerked her head towards Alejandro, on the other side of her (The last thing she wanted was for the little fourth years to find out and start running off to Hogsmeade. She definitely didn't want to be responsible for the fourth years' decision to skive off class and dash to Honeydukes). Marlene lowered her voice, but the volume and intensity of her voice seemed to have an inverse relationship. "Lily Evans, Miss Head Girl, what do you know about secret passageways?"
"I'm afraid my reputation is shot, McKinnon." Lily watched as James earned another 10 points for Gryffindor. He really was an incredible flyer, easily dashing circles around Bones. Poor Isabella, having to play against her bloke. She was a better Chaser than he was a Keeper too, according to Marlene. "How did you find it?"
"No, I asked first." Her voice took on a whining tone. "C'mon, Lily, or else I'll never give your book back!"
She relented. "It was fifth year. Alice Prewett and I were running from the Head Boy that year…what was his name?" She could see him in her mind, all crisp uniform and impeccably done hair. "Ah, yes. Podmore. Sturgis Podmore. And that Head Girl, whoever that was."
"Why were you running from Podmore?" Marlene made an unpleasant face. "I remember him."
"Erm…oh, yes. Her cousins –"
"Gideon and Fabian, right? Hey, aren't they somewhere on campus right now?"
"Yeah. Those two. Anyway, they asked us to distract the Heads so that they could implement a Plan. So we did. And then we literally ran into the statue and Alice was babbling, and all of a sudden it opened." Hufflepuff was in possession now, but Sirius Black had wonderful aim as a Beater – their Chasers were in for it.
"My story is much more boring," Marlene confessed.
The wind had quieted, and now the sun was out in full force. Lily smiled. "What happened?"
"I overheard Black and Pettigrew once last year. Back when they had that fallout?" Lily remembered that one – last November, Remus had spent hours in the library and with other people (such as Lily and Emmy), while Pettigrew had alternated between trailing Potter or Black. And then, after break, they were fine again, though the number and variety of their pranks had since diminished. Not even the Hogwarts rumor mill had much light to shed on the subject, though she remembered hearing that they were all poofs and Remus was in love with Potter and Black was angry, while Pettigrew was in love with both Potter and Black. She didn't think that particular sordid affair was true (though stranger things did happen at their school). "Had to see for myself. Hogsmeade is bad for my Gringotts account."
"You're right." Lily stretched. "I am far more interesting than you." Potter really was an incredible Quidditch player. He flew with both speed and grace, and threw with remarkable accuracy (or maybe Isabella and that George Darcy were just good at catching). There was something profoundly elegant about the way he moved when his feet were off the ground.
"You're also right about that."
Lily turned her head to face her. Not that it mattered – Marlene was generally glued to the game, memorizing tactics and learning strategy. "What? Marly, I was kidding. Of course you are a terribly interesting person. Just too interesting for Hogwarts, methinks."
Marlene shook her head and – briefly – looked into Lily's eyes. In a soft, serious tone (which was frightening – Marlene was never this serious and grave) she said, "You are more intriguing than I will ever be, Lily Evans." And then her attention shifted back to the game, and her eyes began to follow the movement of the Quaffle once more.
At that, it was Lily's turn to stare, mouth open. Why did the blonde sound so serious? She'd never been – she'd always thought that – well, basically, Marlene had always been the most complex and fascinating girl ever. Here was a girl who always spoke her mind, whose opinions varied from topic to topic but never wavered in and of themselves, who knew about cotillions and Minister balls but could also whack you upside the head with a Bludger if necessary and never miss, and was also inclined to get good marks in everything she did, without even trying terribly hard. Who wouldn't be fascinated by a girl like that? "Marl, if that was a compliment out of your mouth, I swear, I'll- " But what she would've sworn, she'd never know, because at that precise moment, Marlene jumped up, screaming with the rest of the fans. Gryffindor must have done something spectacular. Lily stood up shortly thereafter, staring back up at the sky. Damnit. Had she missed something important? Were Isabella and Fiona involved? There would be hell to pay for that if Lily had missed it.
As she cheered with the rest of her House (and Marlene), she slid a sidelong glance at Marlene, who seemed to have snapped out of that weird mood and was now carrying along like nothing was different, nothing had changed.
But something had. Lily just wasn't sure what.
ooo
She should've placed a bet with Marlene, because Gryffindor soundly thumped Hufflepuff in just under three hours. From what she understood from Marly, Fiona had had a hard time finding the Snitch because Hufflepuff's Beaters had concentrated on her. The assumption seemed to be that if Hufflepuff could hold out long enough, before Fiona caught the Snitch and ended the game, then they could maybe beat Gryffindor. This was a mistaken idea.
Now, Lily was trailing after Marlene towards the general direction of the Gryffindor locker room. She usually waited to congratulate (or console, but that really was a rare occurrence) her friends when they were back in their room (and Fiona had procured some alcohol), but Marlene had convinced her to, just this once, go back there and see the whole team.
So here they were, in the back of a throng of fellow students, crowding around the Quidditch team, who had their backs to the door. Lily thought she glimpsed Fiona's bright hair at the front of the group, but she couldn't be sure. She'd never find her or Isabella among this lot. Beside her, Marlene was shouting louder than anyone else.
This was ridiculous and absurd. Why did Gryffindor have so many supporters? Or fans, really – teenagers were such a hormonal lot. Lily was sure that most of these pretty young girls were here to see Potter and Black, while the boys were definitely around to fawn over Fiona or Isabella (although surely Edgar Bones was lurking somewhere). She fit neither category and felt rather displaced, actually. She turned to leave.
She'd always thought that she was good at disappearing, mostly because of all the practice she'd gotten. Fiona would drag them all to a party or even, and then she'd meet a cute boy and start chatting him up, while Emmeline was off with a boyfriend and Isabella always found "family acquaintances" (aka, fellow old pureblood families) that had to be attended to, which often left Lily there by herself. This was hardly Fiona's fault; Lily just didn't like to make unnecessary small talk and her attention span was very short. So she was good at just vanishing when she wanted to leave.
But apparently someone else was unusually good at appearing, because she only got a couple of steps away from the crowd before practically running into someone. "Looking for me?" It was like he'd Apparated, that James Potter. Here he was, in all of his freshly showered glory, all damp hair and clean smelling in a set of school robes. He'd never be as broad-shouldered as Sirius, but he exuded a lean and tall confidence that more than made up for it.
Wait. Was she thinking of Potter as an attractive bloke?
She'd never thought like that. The rest of the girls in this school definitely thought he was cute, but she…
But he wasn't a bad looking bloke at all. He had a thin blade of a nose and large hazel eyes, with a strong jaw and large hands. She could see a bit of his collarbone peeking out of his robe and she wondered if –
She was staring at him. She, Lily Evans, was staring at him, James Potter.
And he'd noticed. Fuck. "Something the matter, Evans? Have I got dirt on my robe?" He checked, which gave her a chance to resume her composure and think about something else. Pull yourself together, Lily.
"Not at all," she said coolly. "Congratulations, Potter."
"Thanks!" He gave her a cocky grin and hoisted his broom over his shoulder. "Did you come down here just to congratulate me?" It was strange that nobody had noticed him back here yet, seeing as that crowd was clamoring loudly to see Potter and company.
Before she knew it, her mouth was spitting out words. "Wanted to give George Darcy a kiss, actually. But I don't feel like waiting," she said, but she smiled so that he knew she was joking. She hoped.
"That Darcy!" He looked outraged. "Are you secretly a bit of a cougar, Evans?"
"He's only, what, two years younger than us?" Lily laughed brightly. "He played rather well."
She spun on her heel and kept walking back towards the castle, but he caught up to her. "Darcy? But I'm the one who kept passing to him and I'm the one who scored all those points! Darcy's just –"
"Oh, do relax, Potter. I saw you up there. You did well," she conceded.
He kept pace with her brisk walk. "Back to the Tower, then?" She nodded, and he said, "I'll walk you back."
"You don't want to hang out with your adoring milieu down there?" She cocked her head and he shrugged offhandedly.
"Not really in the mood. Besides, I'm sure Padfoot is throwing a party tonight, so I'll see everyone then." They were at the doors now, and he chivalrously pulled the left one open for her before following her inside. With the closing of the door, the sounds of the crowd died away.
"I suppose." She sighed, and they lapsed into a companionable silence. She listened to their footfalls, the heels on her maryjanes clicking on the stone floor.
He must've been in a rare contemplative mood, because he didn't break the silence until five minutes later. "What are you doing in Hogsmeade tomorrow?"
She almost giggled, because it had been at least a couple of weeks since he'd asked her anything of the sort. But she managed to maintain a serious and calm face. "Are you asking me out?"
"Maybe." He ran a hand through his hair and it stood up in spikes in the front. "Are you saying yes?"
She was about to answer him when they turned the corner and saw Severus, alone on the other end of the corridor, hunched over and brooding inside that greatcoat that she knew his uncle had given him on his sixteenth birthday, over winter holidays. She knew, because he had come running down the street hours later in order to show her, despite the fact that they'd been having a rocky year. She missed that Severus, the kind and almost sweet boy (and definitely awkward) that he used to be.
Lily couldn't help it; she flinched. It had been months since she'd encountered Severus alone, and she didn't know how to react. Would he say hello? Would he glare? Would he just avoid her altogether? Potter hadn't seen the other boy yet; he seemed lost in thought and-
Too late to think. They were a foot away from Severus now, and she realized how this must look to him – she was with his worst enemy, and they'd been laughing and talking and now Severus was speaking. "Switched sides, Evans? Fucking Potter now, are you?" What? These accusations were absurd, weren't they? Just because she was with Potter right now (and yes, everyone else was still out on the field or by the lake because it had warmed up a bit) did not mean they were dating. Didn't Potter go walking around with girls sometimes?
Only when he was dating them.
It didn't matter – Potter's wand was already out, his broom clattering to the ground at his feet. Merlin, they moved fast – she'd never been such a quick draw. "Move and you're dead, Snivellus," Potter spat out between gritted teeth, his wand aimed unwaveringly at the other boy's nose. "I mean it."
"Oh?" Severus sneered, his wand aimed right between the eyes. Lily, from where she was standing next to Potter, felt a twinge of nervousness. She knew both boys well; Potter was the stronger, but Severus had always been sly and quick. "From here, I believe you're the one that better be careful."
War. This piecemeal concept that hovered at the peripherals of everyone's vision, just out of sight but definitely present. Besides this, however, nothing was really different. Walking in the hallways, Lily occasionally heard a snatch of conversation about the war, often about the handful of students had not returned this year. But in general, students were gossiping about Quidditch tryouts and couples and mundane, normal things. Was this mysterious war one that would not be acknowledged at this school? She didn't know. But it was easier for her not to have to confront the realities of war when she could hide behind her friends, who seemed to just ignore the claims of the Death Eaters and this Lord Voldemort.
So she forgot about the war; she went to class and haphazardly studied for NEWTS and attempted to improve her leadership abilities and work with Potter and sometimes she even went to things like Quidditch games; she tried to be happily normal.
But sometimes…sometimes she remembered. Like today, in this moment, she remembered why Potter and Snape had never liked each other.
"Apologize," James warned, a mad glint in his eye that meant that he rather hoped that Snape didn't.
Lily tried to find her voice but couldn't. There must have been a thousand tiny spats like this in the past, but this particular one reverberated with her somehow. Maybe it was because, in the grand scheme of this war, Potter and Snape had clearly chosen opposing sides. Or maybe it was because she was caught in the middle of their private feud. Or maybe, maybe what really struck her was that, in the past, the last time she'd ended up in the middle of such a spat, it had been fifth year. The last time, she had come to the aid of Severus against Potter, only to be rebuffed by a cruel word that meant much more to Snape than it ever had to her.
"Go on, Potter. Hex me and I'll tell everyone about –"
"Oh, do shut up." James scoffed, and Lily found herself staring at his face, unable to recognize him in that cruel and contemptuous look. Where was the cocky but genial boy she'd seen just minutes before? "You can't, and you know it. Sirius told me what Dumbledore did."
She didn't know what they were talking about, but it sounded serious. Snape grew paler and tightened his fingers around his wand, glaring small pointy objects at James. That was a bad sign, she knew. Oh, she knew every bit of the young Severus, which sometimes shined through this new, cold exterior. He knew so much Dark magic now, how much of it would he throw at James? She had to get him away before Severus tried anything. She needed to do her blasted Head Girl job. Doggedly, she put a hand on James' arm and said quietly, "C'mon, James. Let's just walk away from this. We should just –"
"No." There was a sort of ringing finality in his voice. "I have been kind, Snivellus. I haven't hexed you since last November, despite it all, and –"
Severus uttered a short bark of a laugh. "You? Been kind? Yeah, right. You've been such a saint." His eyes flickered to Lily's hand on Potter's arm and she jerked away from James, eyes downcast. How often had he mocked Potter when they were young? How often had she even agreed, or done nothing about it? And yet here they were, the three of them, at the cusp of adulthood. And this was what it had come to. "And you, Lily. Isn't this just perfect. Head Boy and Head Girl, off to rule the world together. How political of you. And how magnanimous you are, Potter, a pureblood with a –"
"Apologize to Lily." There was a steely undercurrent to James' voice that frightened her. "Or I'll make you."
"You can't touch me." Severus said, and then in a move that she knew perfectly, he was waving his wand and forming a word in his mouth.
But suddenly her wand was in her hand and she was whispering the first thing that came to mind: "Langlock." His eyes widened – she knew perfectly well that this was one of his own curses. One of their own, really. For three months they'd worked on this one, taking turns, since ungluing your tongue from the roof of your mouth was rather painful. Pomfrey had seen a lot of them, back then. For good measure (he'd never been terribly good at nonverbal spells, but you never knew), she cast a Full Body Bind and watched as he fell over. She hoped it hurt. In all their years together, she'd never laid a hand on him, and now she felt a little sick. This was what it came to – this war, turning people against people, bringing her against her oldest friend.
It wasn't always good versus evil. There were strange shades of gray involved, too, and she didn't know what color Severus was, or what she was, or what they were becoming. Did everyone start out on one side or the other? Or did they all start in that fuzzy gray area and then stray to either white or black? She suddenly missed the years before Hogwarts with a deep ache, the years when it had just been her, Petunia, and Severus, hanging about the playground in jumpers and pigtails (well, not Severus, he would've looked a bit silly in pigtails). Sevvy and Lily had met when they were eight, and she'd never regretted that. They'd had a lot of fun when they were younger.
And then they had gotten to school, and suddenly Petunia wasn't speaking to her and Sevvy was in a different House and she was being told by red-and-gold students that she oughtn't to speak to people "of his sort." But she did, anyway, and she'd never thought of it as a statement about disregarding Blood for what Blood was.
It had just been about her and Severus. Until fifth year, anyway.
"That was brillia-" Potter had caught up to her again. She shot him a look, and he sighed. "I'm sorry, Lily. I just got carried away." She sniffed. Just because she was mad at Severu—Snape, now, didn't mean that she couldn't be mad at Potter, too.
Even if she was secretly glad that he'd stood up for her instead of making crude jokes.
"Lily…"
"What have I told you about batting your eyelashes?" Don't look at him don't look at him don't look at –
"You said it made me look incredibly sexy." It kind of did.
She stopped short, looked at him, and said, "Then you misquote worse than that Skeeter twit from Witch Weekly." She walked away.
"Oh, c'mon, Lil." He sighed. "It's just that…well, I can't really get into it, but last year there was some…look, I really can't say. But Snivellus –"
"Severus –" she corrected automatically, then halted when she realized what had come out of her mouth. She stared straight ahead, counting the number of portraits they'd passed.
"Sever—sorry, Snape, and I have a lot of history, and it's…it's complicated. I'm sorry."
She thought for a moment, mulling it over, watching him squirm. She didn't know what had happened between the two boys – Severus had never been really clear on why he hated Potter so. He'd generally just stuck to the "arrogant toerag" sort of namecalling. She'd never pried – it seemed to involve family, and if there was one thing Severus hated, it was his own relatives.
"Lily…."
They were in front of the portrait hole now. She paused, then said finally, without a smile, "I accept your apology. See you later." Then she said the password (Jelly beans) to the Fat Lady and climbed in, alone. As she crossed the common room to the girls' dormitory, she realized that she'd never answered his question. She didn't even know what her answer would have been.
Yes, Lily Evans was good at leaving.
ooo
Ministry of Magic
Application for Auror Training
(Page 1 of 12)
Name: Lily Evans
Age: 17
Hometown: Spinner's End
School: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Why you want to be an Auror (in 250 words)? Good question. When I find that answer…
Who recommended you for Auror Training? I was McGonigled…
What skills do you bring to the Auror field? None. Well. Being on time. So I'll be punctual for missions. And things.
ooo
A/N: Well, thanks for the reviews - hope you enjoyed the latest chapter. Drop me a line?
Oh, and apparently McGonigled , according to Urban Dictionary, means totally screwed.
