A/N: I always feel like I have a million things to say in these over the course of the month & then forget all of it...Thank you to Corina for your wonderful help beta'ing this story and making it more readable! Thank you to everyone who reads and reviews! This one's a bit later because I've been drowning in trying to sort out structural problems with chapter 10, but they've been resolved! And I'll have a new chapter up in July on schedule.


Dating was the world's greatest time suck.

After Lily's strangely intimate encounter with James, she would have preferred a little distance to set her head on straight, but the opportunity never presented itself. With James' tacit approval of their relationship, Sirius had thrown open the doors to Lily, and she'd been seamlessly integrated into his day-to-day life, Lily expected to slot into his world with zero consideration of him doing the same with hers. More than a week had passed since the fish prank – the talk of the school after the Ravenclaw Quidditch team went for a post-workout soak, the water foaming and opaque, and found themselves unexpectedly sliding up against a school of lake-water fish – and Lily had spent more time with James than she had with her own thoughts.

Every part of her schedule was suffering for it. She'd had to skip Sunday's meeting of the Astrological Society to hang out with the Marauders in the common room. Her Monday Charms essay had been illegible and sure to earn a failing mark. Her sleep schedule had tightened to a grisly four-and-a-half hours a night. She walked around the school like a zombie in the mornings, only making up for her zapped energy with a mid-morning nap in class.

Marlene's loud blathering about her Grindylows knowledge only presented another demand on Lily's time. The demonstration of inside knowledge had sent Marlene skyrocketing up Lily's suspect list. The obvious course of action was to follow Marlene's every move for clues. Trailing the Marauders had so far been a bust, but they were cunning and clever where Marlene was trusting and, well, dim. Unfortunately, Marlene's schedule was nearly as frenetic as Lily's, though she packed her hours with socializing rather than exploring the mysteries of the world. Unable to keep up, Lily had turned to her mates for help, and that was how Mei-in had earned the job of trailing Marlene whenever Lily was absent (read: constantly).

It had only been two days since Mei-Lin took on her new assignment, but she looked joyful at having escaped her charge for a few hours. They were in Defense for their last class before lunch, a subject that Marlene had dropped after her OWL. Mei-Lin was so grateful for the reprieve that she hadn't even complained when Lily partnered with Sirius for the practical portion of the class, cheerfully joining Dorcas instead.

Lily smiled fondly at the image of Mei-Lin giggling at something Dorcas had said. It wasn't easy for Mei-Lin to relax around people, people who never lived up to the expectations and dreams that Mei-Lin concocted in her never-resting head, and this comfort with Dorcas was well-fought for, practically new. Already, Lily missed her life from before, not the least of which because she was set to duel Sirius and he was probably going to slaughter her by mistake. Debacle after debacle yet her classmates still overestimated her abysmal defense skills.

As Sirius got into position, he managed a quick sip from the flask hidden in his robes.

Lily only saw the flash of hidden leather, but it was enough to have her hissing, "Don't you dare! If you get blitzed and accidentally kill me, I'm going to haunt you for all eternity."

"Sounds like a love story," Sirius snickered. When Lily continued to glower, Sirius held up his flask in protest, "It's water. See, sniff. No smell."

"It's vodka," Lily said darkly. "Now put it away. I don't want to die."

She'd fallen for the vodka-water trick earlier that week. After a bite of potatoes went down the wrong pipe, Lily had been hacking her lungs up at the lunch table, bug-eyed and arms windmilling, like she was trying to fend off an attacker. Quick to help, Sirius had offered her his flask of "water." Lily was so lucky to have such a sweet boyfriend. Lily had taken a substantial gulp of what was really vodka, and then set to sputtering anew, her unprepared throat seizing up and her gorge strongly protesting. Lily hadn't tossed up the potatoes and vodka in Sirius's face, though it had been a legitimate risk, and he'd howled like he'd never seen something so funny in his life.

Sirius was laughing heartily again now as he repocketed his flask. He was in a good mood that morning. The Clash had released a new album at the turn of the month, and, last night, Sirius had snuck down to Hogsmeade with his mates for a listen. There was a shop on the very edge of the village, Mallory's Musical Mansion, that allowed students to play records – one sickle if you brought your own music, two to borrow from Mal's expansive collection. Magic was banned on the premises to prevent interference with the record player, and it was a common sight to see Mal brandishing a griddle at neighbors who cast enchantments too close to her storefront and threatened her livelihood.

The album had left an impact. All morning, Sirius had been humming the heavy chords and strumming his fingers over his abdomen, like he was the lead bassist. Lily had incorrectly assumed it was an air guitar, and Sirius had been quick to correct her. Cheerfulness on Sirius was unnatural somehow, and the sight of him smiling pleasantly made Lily jittery, expecting a Levicorpus to send her flying into some elaborate trap at any moment.

"You know, I always thought you had some kind of secret death wish, but you're shockingly stable," Sirius said. He raised his wand.

"Me? A death wish?"

They exchanged a few half-hearted spells. It was a simple matter for both of them to just step to the side and evade every burst of color. He was going easy on her. Some girls would have been offended.

Lily could have kissed him for it.

"Sure. You're a muggleborn who spent all her time with a Slytherin death eater git. You brew the most volatile potions, and you skip meals constantly. Plus, remember that enormous tree in Hogsmeade? I think you scaled it in what, third year? Why do it if the fear of falling didn't turn you on?" Sirius said.

Lily was so stunned by his twisted evidence that she didn't even snap at him for his highly illegal mention of Severus. The tree in question was a hundred-year-old oak that grew near the perimeter of the Hog's Head. Its winding branches extended out over the rooves of the residents of Bread Crumb Way like a sheltering blanket. Lily had taken one look on her visit to Hogsmeade and known that she had to work her way to the very top. Her entire afternoon was lost to shimmying from one perch to another, nails digging with terror-induced strength into the wood and vertigo nipping at her senses.

But she hadn't been driven by a perverse death wish. Peering through the thick foliage, Lily had looked out with awe over the landscape, eyes stretching for leagues before mountains impeded her view. She'd drunk in the sight, every bit as beautiful as the celebration within her as she basked in the accomplishment. Because that was what had led her to the tree. The intoxication of achieving something few or possibly no one else ever had.

Sirius's perspective was rather sad, and Lily didn't know how to clarify her motives to him.

Instead, she said, "You're lucky I don't have a death wish because I have a full-proof way of convincing you to off me, and then, you'd be in Azkaban, so…"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes, just picture it. You've just gotten your hands on the new Judas Priest album. You take it down to Mal's for a listen, pop it in the record player, only to discover," Lily paused dramatically, "that I've replaced it with KC and the Sunshine Band."

"You villain!"

"Oh, yes! Nothing but disco for you. I'm sure you'd be shaking your booty in no time," Lily teased.

Sirius grew very still, very suddenly. Like he was approaching a spooked horse, Sirius said in his smoothest voice, "Hey, Lily, what is your taste in music, anyway?"

It had only just occurred to Sirius that Lily came from muggles and would have her own opinions about their music. Possibly the wrong opinions.

Truthfully, Lily's musical taste wasn't particularly developed. She'd been a kid when she left home for school, still parroting her sister's answers to the question and gagging over anything that let her strain out a high note in the car. Then, she'd been isolated from music at Hogwarts. Come summers, she'd only listen to Petunia's collection of albums, and her sister was stingy, only buying a few per year. Lily was woefully behind and wouldn't be surprised to learn Sirius had outstripped her.

"I don't know. I like Abba. The Carpenters. Oh! Elton John writes such beautiful songs. David Bowie."

Sirius alighted upon her final answer, repeating David Bowie to himself like a prayer, her only acceptable answer. As he murmured about Ziggy Stardust like a mad man, they continued their passive dance of spellcasting, never escalating and merely spinning a few degrees to the right to avoid a shivering charm or tickling spell.

"I think a bit of reeducation is in order," Sirius announced. "Next Hogsmeade, I'll take you to Mal's, and we can get you acquainted with some real music."

"Were you going to dump me if I said the Bee Gees?" Lily asked.

"Who knows what I would have done," Sirius replied honestly.

In faux-outrage, Lily sent a quick succession of hexes his way, spread wide enough that he'd have to make use of a shield charm for once. They were still relatively simple spells and slow-moving, so Sirius had plenty of opportunity to raise his defenses. The start of a blue shield emerged, shimmering, from his wand, but then, it sputtered and died, like a candle flickering in the wind.

Lily's level-six stinging hex collided directly with his chest. The follow-up spells Lily had cast before realizing his shields were failing soared into him as well, knocking him backwards into a row of desks. Sirius toppled to the ground with a groan.

"Lily! Did you just beat Black?" Mei-Lin shouted from across the room.

Mei-Lin was like a proud parent at Lily's success, and soon, she and Dorcas were clapping at her victory. Half the class joined in. Their professor even nodded her approval, looking surprised to the point of rudeness at Lily's victory. Everyone was shocked by Lily's sudden improvement; not least of all, Lily herself.

Once in a blue moon, Sirius would stroll into a session of the Dueling Club, hands in his pockets and posture relaxed. His casualness belied the truth: he was dangerous. All of the Marauders had their dueling strengths. Peter was ace with shields, Remus had an expansive knowledge of spells to utilize, James could move, sinuous and beautiful, and dodge just about anything sent his way, but Sirius! He fought instinctively, viciously, casting too fast to follow and wearing his opponent down to the edge of reason. Sirius's spells moved faster, hit harder, and lasted longer. Some chalked it up to his heritage, murmuring out of earshot about how his family had raised him steeped in the sticky muck of dark magic, but Lily disagreed. She thought all that intensity was driven by rage and rage alone.

"I don't understand what happened," Lily said as she offered her hand to haul Sirius up off the floor. None of those spells should have hit you! You'd have blocked them, but your shield just…"

He didn't accept her offer of help, as she might have expected from a seventeen-year-old bloke if she'd considered for a second. Instead, he leveraged one of the desks to return to his feet. The faintest blush of embarrassment colored his cheeks.

"New wand. Haven't quite figured out how to work it yet. Good for offensive spells, but it only ever wants to attack," Sirius said. He gestured to his unexpectedly stubby and rigid cedar wand.

"When did this happen? How?" Lily demanded.

"Dunno. Two weeks ago? Maybe three?" Sirius said casually, like replacing his wand was something he did on a monthly basis.

Two weeks ago they were already dating. Lily was flabbergasted that he hadn't thought to mention it. When she asked now, Sirius hemmed about having sat on his wand and broken it in half.

Wandlore was one of Lily's favorite magical subjects. The relationship between wizard and wand, the unity between physical and spiritual, had always intrigued her, so she knew a great deal about Sirius's wand from a simple look. Unicorn hair meant he bought it from Ollivander's (which made sense), a stable core useful for general magic. Cedar, on the other hand, was relatively rare outside the Americas. It was attracted to loyalty, fierceness, stubbornness.

It was also too short. A discrete, elegant wand worked well for discrete, elegant people. Sirius may house aspirations towards elegance, but he was too big a personality and needed a long wand to guide his flourishes. Lily couldn't fathom how Ollivander let him walk out of the store with such an imperfect fit. The wandmaker had kept her in his shop for nearly three hours on her first visit to Diagon Alley before they settled upon a wand that actually suited her.

Maybe Ollivander had finally gone full-batty.

After class, Lily headed for a meeting of the newspaper, another of Will's dreaded lunch meetings. Mei-Lin had darted off the moment their professor had dismissed class to scout for Marlene – the world's most dedicated if unwilling spy – so Lily took her leave of Sirius and made her way alone.

She didn't make it far before another set of feet fell into step with her own. Flat-heeled and still several significant centimeters taller, Mary padded near-silently beside Lily. When Lily started at her unexpected companion, Mary gifted her with a measured smile.

"You're not going to lunch?" Lily asked. They were walking in the opposite direction of the Great Hall.

"No, I have a question for my Runes professor. Thought we could walk together since you're heading that way," Mary replied.

It was simultaneously a very practical and very unlikely answer.

Mary unsettled Lily in a way that none of her other dormmates could. Mary was too withdrawn, able to remain silent for hours at a time, while everyone else couldn't suffer the tyranny of silence for more than five minutes. They'd blab their darkest secrets, make a show of their most embarrassing foibles, while Mary kept preternaturally still, kept preternaturally mum. The only reason she didn't blend in with the furniture was because her beauty threw her into stark contrast with the dull world of the inanimate. As a result, Mary always kept Lily guessing. There was nothing Lily loved more than a mystery, but she loathed the unsolvable.

So, Lily couldn't begin to interpret Mary's decision to walk alongside her to the Ancient Runes classrooms. Casual companionship or something more? Lily couldn't tell. Nervous in the face of the unknown, Lily filled every minute of their walk with the kind of babble anathema to Mary's very being.

And, because she was herself, Lily chose one of the most boring topics in the world: the four-color theorem.

"No matter what kind of map you want to make, any area in the world or some other imaginary world, you only need four colors to fill out each region with a different color so that no two adjacent regions are filled with the same color," Lily prattled. Mary barely blinked. "Which, I guess isn't all that interesting on its own as cartographers have been making maps forever, but what's really neat about it is that they proved it with a computer! I mean, some mathematicians don't want to accept it because it's like, impossible to check by hand, but that's what makes it so amazing. Just imagine if we could use computers to do all the grunt work in research!"

Lily quailed beneath the severity of Mary's non-reaction, swallowing a thought about muggles outstripping wizards with this new technology. In Mary's place, Emmeline would have had the decency to look at Lily like she was mad. Marlene would have inspected her nails with boredom. If Mary so much as blinked, Lily didn't catch it. Lily was foundering.

"Of course, I'm sure this is boring. Not like you care much about computers. Not exactly magical," Lily rambled. "So, um…hey, why don't you tell me a little about yourself? Your parents are muggles, too. What do they do for a living?"

"My mum's an artist and my father's a professor."

"Oh! A professor of what?" Lily asked, newly intrigued.

"Computer sciences."

It wasn't the most pleasant exchange of Lily's life, and she found herself desperately hopeful that there would be no repeat occurrences of Mary's aberrant…friendliness.

That night promised more uncomfortable interactions when Lily attended the weekly meeting of the Potions Society. The meeting was prototypical to the extreme. They all met in the Potions dungeons as if for class, the agenda was scrawled on the board, and Slughorn had completely abandoned the planned meeting points in favor of gossiping about his successes. The only times the conversation drifted to potions was when Lily or one of the other more academically-inclined students led them there, Slughorn kicking and screaming all the while. Figuratively speaking, of course.

Despite the tenuous connection between these society meetings and any educational value, Lily enjoyed them. Lily might have remained ignorant of wizarding culture forever if Slughorn hadn't plucked her up for the Potions Society.

Only a month into her first year at Hogwarts, Slughorn had already picked her out of the lot of buck-toothed young wizards and witches for special attention. She hadn't been the best brewer in the year – that honor was shared by James and Severus – but she had been spirited and willing to learn.

He'd first extended her an invitation after he overheard her ranting about Bartimeus Blackwell, a Hufflepuff second-year. Lily had been outraged when Blackwell insisted he'd never so much as heard of Edward Heath, asking if Heath was a greengrocer or muggle racecar driver. Lily, convinced he was taking the mickey, had been incensed. She didn't appreciate being made a fool of, even from a second-year with hair like Shawn Cassidy.

Gently taking her aside, Slughorn had explained that it was actually likely that Blackwell, a pureblood, had never heard of the muggle PM. He had encouraged her to come to the next Potions Society meeting, which he then kindly dedicated to an in-depth explanation of the Ministry and how it coordinated (or didn't) with the muggle government. Until that day, Lily had still believed every wizard was bound by the laws of parliament.

So Lily enjoyed the society meetings with Slughorn, the closest person to a mentor she had at Hogwarts. The close proximity to Severus once a week? Less so.

She watched Severus throughout the meeting, still hung up on his unexplained absence at the beginning of April and his even more inexplicable Grindylows invitation. Two unlikely circumstances in such a short period of time struck Lily as suspicious, though; she had started to attribute every strange happening in the school to the Grindylows since the beginning of the investigation, and she was beginning to forget that the unexpected was guaranteed at wizarding school.

It was odd to give Severus so much attention after having pointedly ignored his existence for a year straight. Everything about him was so familiar. The lips quirked into a half-sneer was a sign of pride; it meant that Sev knew the fact Slughorn had just shared and was pleased with his own knowledge. The way he bent low to the desk so that his nose nearly skimmed the parchment was because his vision was deteriorating, but he was too vain to consider glasses. (Lily always thought this had something to do with James.) Even the way he parted his hair – straight down the middle because he couldn't be arsed to style it – was familiar.

She could tell a lot about him with one hard look, but the secret of his Grindylows membership was hidden from her. Several times throughout the meeting, Sev sensed her eyes on him and whirled around to face his voyeur. Lily was quick to turn away each time. Not even the prospect of unveiling the secret of the Grindylows was worth giving Sev the false hope that she'd forgive him.

He might try to, and God it was horrible, talk to her again.

Against the odds, Lily managed to avoid discovery by Severus for the whole of the meeting. Her attention to old friends didn't go entirely unnoticed, however. To be a successful sycophant and social climber required acute skills of human observation, and Slughorn noticed everything. From the front of the from, Slughorn watched her with his pale green eyes, moustache positively twitching in sympathy.

He asked Lily to remain behind after the meeting. It was past ten and time for her to return to the dormitories, but Lily graciously accepted a cup of tea instead. They retired to his office, Slughorn laughing cheerily about 'making room in his little water closet.' It was a tight fit, and Lily crossed her legs to take up as little space as possible. Slughorn needed the rest of it.

"You were quiet this evening, Miss Evans," Slughorn said. "It's unlike you. I hope you're not moving towards a burn out. There's only so many hours in the day and some of them need to be devoted to fun."

Lily nodded her agreement, assured Slughorn that she was more social than ever now that she was dating Sirius.

Slughorn studied her. "You now, I was reading about the most fantastic discovery in the news recently. It seems a few muggles identified rings surrounding the planet Uranus. They were studying a star in the atmosphere and realized that the star kept disappearing from their view. The only explanation is that a few narrow rings – they think at least six, but possibly more – are circling the planet itself."

"Rings?"

"Yes, rings. Completely changes the field of astronomy as they know it. Completely changes the field of astronomy as we know it. I think the centaurs already realized. Some of their more cryptic predictions hint towards it, but it's impossible to know when those chaps are being concrete or abstract. I always thought it was rather metaphorical," Slughorn explained.

"That's a great discovery," Lily said sincerely. She was a little low from ruminating over Severus, but she couldn't help her excitement at anything new.

"Yes, it is. Completely extraordinary. And to think they managed it without magic. These muggles, never held a wand in their lives, invented the technology –" Slughorn, like many wizards, stumbled over the word, like it was something foreign, "and they invented so many uses for it. I truly believe some of the most brilliant, inquisitive minds belong to muggles. Truly, I do."

It took Lily a moment to piece together Slughorn's intentions, but she was able to make the connection before the silence stretched on too awkwardly. Having noticed her gaze lingering on Sev and knowing the source of their estrangement, Slughorn was trying to comfort her. He was far from the most politically sensitive wizard in the school, but he didn't despise muggles, and he cared about Lily.

Lily smiled tightly, not because she was insincere but to mask a pit of vulnerability, the part of her that ached whenever an adult or authority figure acknowledged the weight of pureblood supremacy that rested heavily atop the shoulders of every muggleborn, day in and out. "Thank you, sir. I know what you're trying to do, and I really appreciate it."

"Well, I suppose we may dispense with the subtleties," Slughorn said with a laugh.

"Severus missed the meeting a few weeks ago. I guess I was fixating on the why," Lily explained. "I know you're not supposed to care about what someone does once you're finished with them. I'm supposed to scoff and say he can kiss his own arse – pardon me, professor, but you know what I mean. But I like to know his…progress. Is he getting any worse? Has he hurt anyone? You know, all of it."

In times when she was less emotionally invested, she enjoyed the chance to watch purebloods react to examples of blood bigotry. Their varied responses were fascinating. With a clinical eye, Lily had noted almost all of them. There was sympathy, perhaps the most common, and ranging from Madam Pomfrey shoving a dozen lollipops into Lily's hand, a tear at the corner of her eye to McGonagall's pained grimace followed by bracing advice on how to best muddle through. Others feigned sudden deafness or made excuses, like Professor Chester. Lily's favorite of all were people who vibrated with incandescent fury. Her friends like Mei-Lin and Dorcas had often become angry on her behalf, but whenever James heard an example of bigotry, he shook like he might tear off his own skin in rage, like he wanted to tear the entire wizarding world apart. It was gratifying to know she wasn't the only one furious.

Slughorn was a fidgeter, a sub-category of the group that made excuses with a dash of sympathy for flavor. Lily almost couldn't blame him. It would have been impossible to lead Slytherin House while also soundly condemning prejudice. His restlessness soon infected her, and Lily's foot jangled back and forth, knocking into Slughorn's chair on every other pass.

"Well, I don't profess to know much," Slughorn said, "But I do know that the only thing a person should be judged on is their merits, and you, Miss Evans, are an extraordinary witch."

Lily smiled, bashful in spite of herself.

"Do you consider character when you recruit people for the Slug Club?" Lily asked.

"Are you asking why I extended an invitation to Mr. Snape?"

"No, no!" Offending Slughorn by criticizing his special soirees was not the way to engender honesty. It was time to lay her cards on the able. "Just…I think Severus might have missed the meeting at the turn of the month because he's joined up with the Grindylows. I understand that he's a prodigy when it comes to potions, but I don't understand how they could overlook his proclivities. Shouldn't a person's character count for something?"

Slughorn's color darkened when she mentioned the Grindylows, and he sat ramrod straight in his chair. "In confidence, Miss Evans, I've never much cared for the Grindylows."

His tone was so flat that Lily believed, for the first time since she began her investigation, that an authority figure was being perfectly upfront about the society.

"Why not?"

"The Grindylows were already an institution when I was a student here. My sixth year, the group was particularly rancorous. We had a number of incidents: vandalized property, students publicly humiliated, peoples' exams disrupted. The tone wasn't frivolous. It was awful for every non-member, walking the halls and never knowing whether you were about to have your homework stolen or be pantsed in front of the girl you fancied."

They sounded like the Marauders, back when their mischief had erred to the side of torment.

"I'll admit that I recruit to my little club based on the same criteria. I'm looking for the brightest and most interesting students. And, no, character does not often come into play. But the difference is that I never shield my students from the consequences of their bad behavior. Mr. Snape may attend my parties, but if he hurts someone on the basis of their blood, I'll see him before Dumbledore to explain himself. It's not like that with the Grindylows. Any hurt caused under the auspices of the society are completely written off by the powers at this school. It's been that way for hundreds of years."

Lily wasn't much of a philosopher. She'd read a few of the classics: Plato and Locke and Cordelia the Crying Countess. The words always zoomed past her; she'd seek the final, concrete answer after hundreds of pages of speculation, only to find that the final conclusion was that human beings knew nothing and likely never would. It was beyond frustrating. Lily's approach to discovery often included a healthy dose of appeal to authority. She was, after all, a teenage witch and couldn't be expected to make every great discovery herself. To the most meaningful questions in the universe, however, the best the experts could do was shrug their shoulders and concede defeat.

If there was one belief that Lily shared with most of the major philosophers of western history, however, it was that truth out to be pursued regardless. And if there was one thing she'd taken from the Newtonians, it was that every action bore a consequence. So, it was no small exaggeration to say that the fatalistic tone in Slughorn's voice as he spoke about the Grindylows in terms that challenged the very tenets of Lily's belief system – that they'd continue to operate in secrecy without oversight forever – drove Lily seven kinds of mad. Mad enough that she didn't filter her words as she ranted.

"It's just not right! The things they get away with, and I can't even begin to fathom how. Did you know that a bunch of students went missing on the first, just didn't go to their classes. I spoke with Professor Bukhari, and he has a clear memory of them all attending, even though I have witnesses who swear the opposite. It's obviously the Grindylows at work, but if they're to the point of…I don't even know, cursing the professors, then, I don't know how the school doesn't step in and put a stop to it!"

Slughorn glowed at her rant. He tapped a finger to his nose, conspiratorially, and glanced around to make sure they were truly alone. It was so much like something out of a noir film that Lily grew giddy. She knew the signs. He was about to give her the scoop.

"If you were to look at my attendance records, I'm sure you'd find much the same as Professor Bukhari…however, my memory's sharp, and I seem to remember that there were two absences that day from my sixth-year class."

"They didn't get to you," Lily breathed.

Slughorn was quick to correct her. "Perhaps, or perhaps they never needed to get to Professor Bukhari to convince him to say what he did. The foundations, they run deep, Miss Evans."

"I really appreciate you sharing this with me," Lily said.

There was so much to do with this new intelligence. She needed to figure out which sixth-years had Potions on the first and see if there were any obvious candidates there. With her lead on the Marauders and now this, she was slowly but surely narrowing in on her target. Soon enough, Sirius would slip up as well, and then, she'd have everything she needed to break this thing open. First would come truth. Then, consequences.

"Of course, Miss Evans. Like I said, I don't much care for the Grindylows," Slughorn said, and then, slyly, "Besides, they didn't see fit to recruit me."

Lily had never so appreciated man's ability to hold a grudge.


Late evening on a Friday night typically saw all the Gryffindor girls gathered together, only so that their paths could diverge come nightfall. For Mary, Marlene and Emmeline, Friday evening signaled the time to prepare for a night out, and they spent them fighting for counter space in the loo. For Lily and Mei-Lin, Fridays were a chance to pal around with Will in one of the abandoned classrooms on the third floor or to let loose in their empty dormitory. They savored these moments of freedom, where they were guaranteed a shield from judgmental eyes. Friday nights had seen Lily and Mei-Lin dress up in all their clothes and strut across an imaginary catwalk, dance parties, frank conversations about sex, and many belted renditions of Dancing Queen.

As per usual, Marlene and Emmeline were in the lav. The smell of burnt hair wafted through the dormitory as Emmeline liberally employed a straightening charm to her shiny auburn hair. Mei-Lin lay on her stomach across her bed, a sketch pad in front of her, fast filling up with doodles of the Gringotts goblins. Occasionally, she'd lift the pad up so that Lily could admire her more realistic drawings.

Lily sat cross-legged on the floor, never so desirous for a desk. She'd stacked her books one atop the other to create a makeshift surface on which she could write. Painstakingly, she'd written the name of every sixth-year and was assigning points based on their popularity and accomplishments. From there, she'd ascribed each student a probability of membership to the Grindylows. It was far from scientific, but it didn't need to be. There were only about forty students in their whole class and nine members of the Grindylows, which meant that nearly a quarter of the names must be members.

The girls' dormitory at night was lit by two lanterns that automatically flared to life after the natural sunshine through the windows faded. One had lit about fifteen minutes earlier, so Lily had to squint slightly to make out her own hasty handwriting. A shadow fell across her parchment, darkening it further, and Lily somewhat deliriously wondered if the magic in the lanterns had run out.

"What are you working on?"

At Mary's voice, Lily swept the parchment to the side, hastily shielding it and in the process knocking over a bottle of blue ink. Deflecting, Lily said, "Why aren't you getting ready with the others?"

"Are you suggesting I don't look good enough to go out, Lily?" Mary said blandly.

It was the second time Lily had stepped in it that week with Mary, and she was strongly considering a muzzle to prevent any future faux pas. Of course, Mary didn't require the same mirror time as everyone else. Mary rolled out of bed in the morning looking divine: bright olive skin and still half-closed eyes that were somehow seductive rather than exhausted. Even her tangled hair could be thrown up in a bun and would look healthy rather than slobbish, like Lily's equally hasty morning hair routine.

"Sorry, my brain's just unfocused," Lily said sheepishly. "I'm working on an essay for Divination."

In six years, Mary had never stepped foot in a Divination classroom. Marlene took Divination, however, so perhaps that was why Mary reached for the parchment all the same. Desperate, Lily slammed her palm down on the edge, earning a raised eyebrow from Mary. The other girl tugged. Lily pulled. That quickly and they were in a standoff over a piece of parchment, all while Mei-Lin hummed, oblivious and useless, a few meters away.

"Are you crazy? Let me see," Mary said.

Lily was not afraid of being labelled 'crazy.' Far from it. In her opinion, most of the best women were. Still, she drew the line at gnawing Mary's wrist to force her to release the parchment, and after a few more moments of tugging, Mary pulled away with the prize. Lily dived forward to reclaim it, but Mary flipped it over, seeing everything.

"What the fuc*, Lily?"

Trying to spin a story to match the Divination essay lie might have worked – Lily could say she was trying to predict which of her classmates would meet an untimely demise – but Marlene could debunk it in a second. Lily's habit of carefully labelling her work made it fairly obvious what she was trying to do: narrow in on the most popular, accomplished students in the school. Internally, Lily berated herself for not thinking to transcribe her work in code. The decoder ring she'd pulled from a crackerjack box at age six would never be more apropos, and she'd wasted the opportunity.

Despite her unforgivable lack of foresight in preparing for an eventuality where someone saw her list, the necessary lie came smoothly, "I'm trying to figure out who's going to be Head Boy and Girl next year."

"And you think the best candidate is Potter?" Mary said. Beside James' name, Lily had marked a probability of 99%.

"Well, you know, he's gotten a lot better, and his marks are amazing. Maybe Dumbledore will give him the post so that he keeps the other troublemakers in line," Lily said.

Mary looked at her like she was an idiot. "And you think Sirius is the third most likely candidate for the job. A 90%, Lily? Really? Has he snogged you senseless or is love just that blind?"

"Um…you know that Dumbledore…he's a kook," Lily supplied weakly. "Okay, you're right. I'm still trying to work out some kinks in the methodology."

"Have you considered giving extra points to the prefects? History says Dumbledore normally pulls from those," Mary said, and there must have been something gratifying about seeing someone else's stupidity because Lily swore there was a chuckle in Mary's voice.

"Good call. Prefects. Alright, then, the prefect with the highest score on my list is Danyal Shafiq. I'm placing my bets now. Thank you for your help," Lily babbled, because that was all she seemed to know how to do when faced with Mary's stoicism.

"I wouldn't put my money on Danyal," Mary warned. "It's totally going to be Emmeline."

Privately, Lily had her doubts, though she wisely kept her own confidence for once. Emmeline was the Gryffindor prefect, and she did alright in class, but she wasn't showy. There was nothing that particularly stood out about Emmeline when she stood beside her gorgeous and bubbly friends (read: Mary and Marlene in that order). Besides, Emmeline was only a castoff prefect, given the opportunity after Lily burnt out. List aside, Lily was going to march to Dumbledore's office in a fit of indignation if Rita Slughorn didn't nab Head Girl. She was the Hufflepuff prefect, a member of the Chess Club, a member of the Charms club, a member of the Potions Society, and, of course, a member of her uncle's Slug Club. In comparison, Emmeline sporadically attended meetings of the Dueling Club.

"Thanks for the advice," Lily repeated.

Mary didn't move to leave, instead crouching down so that she was closer to Lily's level. Mary fraternizing with Lily was unheard of, and the surprise move made Mei-Lin gape over her sketchbook. Since Wednesday, Mary had been weirdly present in the dormitory – present in the mental, not physical sense, since usually she laid about not engaging with anything Lily said and only humming along to her friends' chatter. Tonight, she'd sought Lily out for a conversation, and she seemed interested in continuing it.

"Any special plans tonight?" Mary asked.

And just like that, Lily saw Mary's motives for what they were. She was jealous. Her snark about being snogged senseless hadn't been a well-aimed joke but a telling barb about her own feelings.

Lily edged away, nervous that Mary might suddenly devolve into some jealousy-struck beast and tear off her head. Plainly speaking, Lily had stolen Mary's pseudo-boyfriend, and this was the kind of offense that caused girls to turn on one another all the time. She heard it in stories whenever she visited the loo, girls complaining about their ungracious, so-called-best-friends, who flirted with their crushes and accepted invitations to Hogsmeade that ought to have been turned down on the spot. Unlike those girls, Lily wasn't even close with Mary, so she didn't have the shield of fond memories to protect her from her dormmate's wrath.

Mary never lunged. The tension slowly eased as Lily realized Mary only wanted a civil conversation. Mary may have been jealous, but she wasn't evil. Maybe Lily had only hoped for a vicious reaction because in the wake of her realization, Lily's second reaction was guilt. Unwittingly, she'd interrupted a relationship that was real, all so she could construct something fake in its place. Yes, Mary and Sirius had been toxic for each other by all accounts, but at least Mary genuinely cared whether he was dating other girls. Lily couldn't say the same beyond how it would impact her ability to wring secrets from him.

Lily sprang to her feet, "Actually, I'm going to go find Sirius. Mei-Lin, I'll be back later."

Both girls waved at Lily as she fast-walked out the door. Passing Marlene and Emmeline, Lily vaguely processed their startled voices.

"What on earth's gotten into her?" Marlene asked.

"Probably the usual Lily nonsense," Emmeline replied.

Lily might have been offended, except she was known for barreling through the halls at top speed. The time it took to dart between classes or from the loo to the Great Hall were wasted seconds that could have been better spent. There was nothing she loathed more than her sluggish classmates, who clogged the corridors with their slow-paced conversations and even slower steps. The intersection between DADA and Charms was overwhelmed every Tuesday as double classes let out, and Lily was always tempted to whip out her wand, not to hex anyone, but simply to nudge them along with the sharper point as they stopped dead-center in the hall to lace their trainers or shout insults at their mates several meters ahead. If she wasn't sure it would end with her laid up in the hospital after a heart attack, Lily might have considered a career as a traffic cop.

Besides, she couldn't worry about Emmeline's flip-flopping opinion about her when she was too busy lamenting Mary's jealousy. Lily recalled how only a few weeks ago, Sirius had been desperate to make Mary jealous. He'd sounded so eager to hear her reaction to him snogging Charlene Rivera. If Mary was jealous now, Sirius deserved to know.

He deserved to know because maybe he'd chuck Lily on the spot and rush off to be with the girl he truly loved. It would be a blow to Lily's story, but she couldn't come between two people who genuinely cared for one another in good conscience. Technically, she couldn't do anything lately in good conscience, but there were limits even in the name of investigative journalism, and Lily had just rubbed up against one.

Lily made a vow to herself. She would tell Sirius about Mary's jealousy, arming him with the information to make his own decision. If he wanted to stay with Lily after that, she would forget about Mary's strange behavior, chock it up to too-little-too-late from Mary, a girl who had given Sirius nothing but the cold shoulder for a month now.

Finding Sirius was an event, one Lily should have anticipated given his penchant for gallivanting with his mates. For some reason, she'd envisioned finding him in front of the fire, cozied up with a book. It was laughable really. Instead, she checked what felt like every room in the castle in her pursuit of him: the dormitories, the kitchens, the empty Ancient Runes classrooms, and the Astronomy Tower.

If she'd been a typical girlfriend, she would have known where to find her boyfriend on a Friday night. Normal girls would have asked. The idea of keeping up with his movements hadn't even occurred to her, and now she was suffering for it.

Exhausting the castle, Lily marched out the sturdy oak doors of the Great Hall, intent on canvassing the grounds. It was the part of spring, towards the beginning of the season, where the weather couldn't make up its mind. That afternoon, the sun had swelled to a crescendo of yellow heat and students had flocked to the courtyards to sunbathe. Nearly dark now, the air had cooled enough that Lily pulled her robes tight, suppressing shivers as she scanned the grounds.

She happened upon her target near the Clock Tower. Lily was surprised to see him, though she rationalized that Sirius had to, of course, turn up somewhere. He was dressed in all black so that she nearly missed him in the murky half-dark of evening. And, he was alone.

"Sirius!" Lily called. He didn't turn around at the call, so she tried again, "Sirius Black!"

This time, he turned around.

Having a name, which was a synonym to an obscenely common word had trained Sirius to completely tune out all calls of his first name. Too often in his early years, he'd jerked around suddenly only to find that a student was exclaiming about something entirely separate. The same held true for his surname alone. To gain his attention, students and professors both had to shout out his full name for it to saw through the fluff between his ears and process in his brain. The only person who could call Sirius's first name alone was James. She'd seen Sirius turn around immediately at that, like he was always listening for James.

"I was hoping to run into you," Lily called in greeting. Sirius continued walking, but slowed so that she could catch up with him. Even with his adjusted pace, Lily had to walk in double time to compensate for his height.

"Enjoying the warm weather?" Sirius asked sarcastically.

"Positively freezing," Lily answered.

Unlike Lily, who had worn a robe to shield against the elements, Sirius was dressed in one of his leather jackets and a pair of bike gloves. Everything was more glaringly muggle against the magical background of Hogwarts, more of a statement. Lily didn't have an eye for fashion, so she'd only discovered through dating him that Sirius owned not one but several leather jackets. They all looked alike – black, cut short before reaching his hip, and rough-shodden, like they'd been used thoroughly. One durable jacket should have been enough, but Lily was fast learning that Sirius's eye for sartorial detail far outstripped her own.

"Since it's Friday night and all, I thought you and I could maybe spend it together. To talk," Lily said. "We could go for a walk since we're already outside or maybe play some gobstones…"

Wholesome fun probably wasn't the best way to lure Sirius Black. Lily struggled for a suggestion more tailored to Sirius's interests, but social creativity had never been her strong suit. She wasn't a complete freak – derogatory statements from Petunia aside – so it wasn't like she spent her Friday nights holed up in the common room reading her biographies or studying the encyclopedia. On Friday nights, she liked to have fun like the rest of the school. Only, Lily's idea of fun was talking with Will and Mei-Lin for hours on end. They didn't really do much of anything at all.

"I know! We could light a fire and dance naked beneath the pale moonlight, really give credence to those witch stereotypes."

It dawned on Lily that Sirius might not recognize the muggle phrase and take this as an invitation. She held her breath. If worst came to worst and Sirius expected her to strip naked, she could just asphyxiate. Problem solved.

"We've already danced together beneath the moonlight, but I like the new nudity addition. Yes, just the kind of enterprising thinking your generation needs."

Sirius laughed, and Lily breathed again.

"Really though, Lily, I have plans already," Sirius said.

"What plans?'

"Don't worry about it," Sirius said, which Lily interpreted to mean 'plans that don't include you.'

"I'm your girlfriend," Lily said plainly.

"Water's wet."

Lily rolled her eyes. "My point is, well, isn't this the kind of question that girlfriends get to ask? I mean, I haven't had a lot of experience dating, but I think it is."

"Huh…I don't know. Mary never asked, but that doesn't mean much," Sirius said, as stumped as she was.

"Speaking of Mary. I just spoke to her, and I really wanted to–"

"The last thing I want right now is to talk about Mary," Sirius said, smoothly cutting her off before she could launch into her revelations about Mary and her newfound lurkiness. "Listen, luv, I have to go. We can spend time together tomorrow night."

Before she could manage a word edgewise, Sirius leaned in to kiss her goodbye. His tongue ran against the unyielding ridge of her lips; Lily remained closed against him. When he pulled away, eyes hooded and kinder than before the kiss, Lily decided to try to engage him one last time.

"I'd really been hoping we could talk about something," Lily said.

"All the more reason for me to go."

He ruffled her hair, and it wasn't just a casual passing either, but an organized attack on any semblance of neatness, leaving a bird's nest in place of curls. If there was one thing Lily despised, it was when people touched her hair uninvited. Being ginger brought with it a host of unpleasant interactions with strangers at the pharmacy and other mundane locales. People had a habit of running their dirty hands through her hair as a way of announcing themselves, always followed by a compliment Lily was unable to appreciate because she was too busy recovering from the heart attack that accompanied a strange, old lady petting her in public.

Lily's father also had a penchant for tousling his daughter's hair. It was a move he saved for those moments when he needed to placate his daughter. Whenever he'd head off to work without preparing breakfast, a quick hair rumple. When he couldn't scrape together enough quid for a new school uniform, that same pat and shake of the head. On the nights he came home well after dark with the tang of beer on his breath, Lily's hair would be sent flying in every direction. It was a gesture of both apology and warning.

There was no use in trying to evade the hair muss either. Douglas Evans didn't much care for his daughters erecting boundaries, after all they were his kids. The last time Lily had tried to shy away was when she was fourteen. She'd known it was coming because her father had just announced he'd been called into work on Christmas Day and that the girls would have to spend the holiday alone. Meanwhile, Lily had known perfectly well that the factory would be closed tight on the twenty-fifth. Driven either by guilt or habit, her father had reached for her hair, and Lily had raised a shoulder to block him, arching away. Her father had sighed, asked why she was trying to punish him, and left before she could answer. When he returned home the next day, the first thing he did was give her hair a hearty ruffle.

Removing his palm from the crown of her head, Sirius said, "Now run off to bed like a good girl."

"Well, that was paternalistic," Lily said crossly.

As much as Lily disliked Sirius acting like her father, Sirius doubly didn't like being compared to one. His face gave a spasm so blatant that Lily didn't struggle to track it. Then, he closed up like a finished book.

"Good night, Lily," he said.

He walked away, continuing his trek towards the Quidditch Pitch.

Calling after his retreating back, Lily shouted, "You're really not going to tell me where you're going?'

With nothing separating them but empty lawn, it was impossible to pretend he wasn't ignoring her. Mary was the last thing on her mind, her suspicions about the Grindylows dinged. Lily wondered how the Marauders had gotten away with any of their shenanigans over the years because they were perfectly obvious when up to something. Sirius hadn't even lied to evade the question.

She could try to follow him, but ten to one he would notice her stalking him across the grounds. There wasn't a tree or hiding place along his path. Lily didn't understand what Sirius wanted out of their relationship as their time together hadn't been edifying, but she was certain he'd object to a clingy girlfriend. If he was going to chuck her, she wanted it to be for a good reason.

Figuring she ought to return to Mei-Lin, Lily retraced her steps. She didn't think she'd ever grown tired of walking the Hogwarts grounds after dark. There weren't any students in sight, yet the grounds teemed with life. Owls were as plentiful as stars in the night sky, swooping overhead at low-speeds, lazy after a daytime of slumber. Their emergence sent the small-mammal life of Scotland scattering, anything to evade sharp talons and even sharper eyes. Owls made for silent predators, and the only noise was the crunch of Lily's trainers disturbing the dirt, her own breathing, and the whisper of the lake.

Walking the grounds of Hogwarts offered Lily a freedom she couldn't find elsewhere. Lily had never felt comfortable roaming the streets at night. Rationally, she recognized that magic was her protection and that she could defend herself against any attacker, but there remained the shadow of panic dogging her steps after the sun went down, urging her pace faster until she reached the safety of home. At Hogwarts, she was free from fears of men lurking in the dark. The night transformed from something sinister to something soothing, and she walked the grounds wearing the starry sky like a blanket.

Lily's isolation was interrupted. A figure walked steadily towards her. Even from a distance, she could pick out the person's identify, solely by his gate, the way his arms swung busily with each step and his shoulders jerked to imaginary music.

"Fancy seeing you here, Potter. What are you up to?" Lily said. She tucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth to prevent herself from stating the obvious: that he was likely embroiled in the same mystery plan as Sirius.

"I'm just headed to meet…Actually, I could ask you the same thing," James said, as lacking in discretion as his mate.

"Oh, I'm just searching for my beloved boyfriend. Seen him?"

"Did you check the dormitory?" James asked.

Lily frowned. "Now, that's just an insult to my intelligence."

"Unintentional, I promise," James chuckled.

"If you're not out here to meet Sirius, why are you here? Hot date with Danyal?" With a little mental maths, Lily determined her question was born out of 10% sincere curiosity, 30% cover for her investigation, and 60% sheer pettiness. She wanted to see sweat drip from his brow.

"What? Where'd you hear–?" James stumbled just as she'd hoped through his response.

There was genuine satisfaction to be found in the few times she managed to gain the upper hand with him, and Lily relished it. "She told me she was your date to that party."

"Oh. Then, yeah, I'm supposed to be meeting her by the boathouse," James said.

He parted with this information unwillingly. James had been careful not to mention the name of his date when he rejected her, and he was obviously displeased that Danyal had blabbed. He shouldn't have cared. Since finding out, Lily had only been left with a crippling sense of inferiority compared to the statuesque Slytherin. Nothing for him to worry about.

"Best you don't keep her waiting then," Lily said, nodding in the direction of the boathouse.

She made to walk away, abandoning him just like Sirius had her, but didn't make it very far before James came jogging up behind her. "Wait, Lily! It's dark and late. Let me walk you back to the Tower."

"Um…It's Hogwarts. What could possibly happen to me between here and the Fat Lady? Do you think I'm going to collapse into a feminine swoon and not make it?" Lily teased.

"I just don't think it's smart for you to wander the corridors alone at night," James said.

"I'm noticing a lot of paternalism from the boys at this school tonight. What's up with that?" Lily muttered. James had fallen into step beside her, not needing an invitation to see her back safely even as she grouched. She glared at his uniform shoes, shiny under the moonlight because there was nothing second-hand for James Potter.

"I'm not patronizing you. Off-hand, I can name at least eight people who wouldn't mind seeing you bleed. Does that sound safe to you?" James corrected sourly.

"Last time I counted, there were only seven," Lily huffed and then paused. "Point made. Mr. Potter, would you be so kind as to accompany me to my dormitory?"

"Is that an invitation to follow you up?"

Lily ignored his grin, the mouth-watering smile that set her nerves awry, and gave him a dirty look as she said, "No."

It was probably smart that she yielded then because she could smell a lecture in the air. James was exactly the princely type who would rant and rave about "vulnerable" people taking undue risks with their safety. He got away with it too because his concern was not patronizing, like he said, and wasn't decided by gender or blood status. That he was right and she'd been too cavalier because of her fondness for Hogwarts and all it had taught her didn't do much for her spirits.

"I'll escort you as far as the portrait of our dear Fat Lady," James said gallantly.

He offered his arm, and Lily hooked hers through, so that their elbows nestled together. They compromised on the pace, James taking somewhat shorter steps than he'd have liked with his monster-bird limbs and Lily hurrying to accommodate him. The thrill of their banter picked her mood right up from the ground; they walked that fine line between clever conversation and flirting, and she trembled with the urge to stick her toe over that line, just to see what would happen.

She sighed, "You know, it chafes, accepting help from my greatest adversary."

"I'm your greatest adversary?" James demanded. "I thought we just established that you have very real enemies at this school."

"Nah, they just hate every muggleborn. For a real nemesis, you need personal rancor. You and I have that in spades," Lily said, waving a hand imperiously.

James snorted, and the sound held enough judgment to fill an encyclopedia. "Firstly, I'm not your enemy. Bloody hell, Lily, let it go. And second, I wouldn't be so sure it's not personal."

Lily decided to glide right past his first point. She'd yet to receive an actual apology for the most humiliating incident of her life, and in the absence of one, she wasn't feeling particularly forgiving. To the second, she simply asked, "Why would those bigots hate me more than any other muggleborn?"

James had the decency to look away. "Well, there's no easy way to say this. I think there's something about your, er, demeanor that irks them. They find you, well…annoying."

"Those fiends! And here I thought they couldn't be any more dastardly!" Lily exploded.

"That's death eaters for ya," James commiserated.

"You know, they just can't handle seeing a muggleborn with such a secure sense of self, so they have to try to tear me down," Lily said, jabbing her finger accusingly in the air.

She imagined the smug, lackluster face of Desmond Avery. He was always preaching about blood superiority, but his face was doughty with baby fat, and he looked like a four-year-old when he smiled. Clearly, they were operating on different definitions of superiority.

"Well, yeah," James said.

"How exactly do I, specifically, annoy them?" Lily asked.

With his free hand, James rummaged through his hair. He'd been uncertain to admit that she was disliked before, but under the fire of her glare, he relented.

"Now, I happen to find all of these traits delightful, nay admirable, but they do rub some people the wrong way…"

"Don't hold back," Lily ordered.

"You're loud."

"Loud?"

"Let me put it this way, right before class starts, I can hear you and whatever you're telling Mei-Lin clear as day from out in the hall. You're the first voice I can pick out when I enter any room, actually, because you're, again, loud," James said.

"What else?" Lily asked.

James dropped her arm from his. He turned around, so that he faced her, and walked slowly backwards, never checking behind him for obstacles but relying on Lily for guidance. Gone was his former reluctance, and he smiled hugely at her as he prepared to verbally decimate her.

"You're always in a rush," James said. "I've seen you throw elbows in the corridors."

"Very true," Lily conceded without a hint of shame. "I've got places to be."

"Yes, you're very busy. They don't like that either, by the way, that you're so involved in everything. Imagine if someone hated you, just for a second. I know it's hard to picture. Now, imagine that this person couldn't join a single school activity or have a moment's peace because you're bloody everywhere. I swear, I think you have clones some days," James said.

"It is preposterous to picture," Lily joked.

James's smile impossibly widened as he peered down at her. "I agree, perfectly preposterous. Then, finally, there's the big one…"

"Which is?"

"You're a know-it-all."

Until then, Lily had taken her faults in stride because there was no arguing with the truth. She was busy and she ran through the castle like the zombie apocalypse had broken out on heels, and she could believe she was loud, even if she'd never fully considered it. But, but, she was not a know-it-all.

"I must have the lowest Transfiguration marks of any know-it-all in the history of the entire world," Lily said. "Honestly, I'm an idiot. Mentally deficient even. I don't know where they came up with that. A know-it-all?"

"Come off it, Lily. You're brilliant, and everyone knows it. And you can come off as a know-it-all sometimes. You tend to drop all sorts of inane…er, unexpected facts into conversations with people."

"But that's not because I think I know so much more than everyone else! It's just interesting, and who doesn't like to learn? If I read something fascinating, why would I keep it to myself?" Lily countered.

On rare occasion, Lily wondered whether a magical hat could use drugs and if so, whether the Sorting Hat might have been high the day of her sorting because she seemed pegged for Ravenclaw house. No one there would be confused by a person spouting off facts, wouldn't mistake the act as being for material gain, while the other houses looked for ulterior motives. The foundation of her friendship outside the paper with Dorcas was based in the girl's appreciation for learning. When Lily shared a random fact with Dorcas, Dorcas would listen thoughtfully, eyes averted as if sight might distract her ears from their task, nodding along when things made sense and rubbing her chin when her understanding caught on a snag. Dorcas nearly never asked follow-up questions, but Lily could watch as she internalized the information, spotting the moment it settled into her memory for safekeeping.

"Besides, claiming to be a know-it-all is just stupid. Because really, how much does any one person know? What I don't know is always going to far outstrip what I do. For example, think of all the rooms in the world! I'll never know the layout of even one percent of those, and that's one eensy-weensy thing! I know nothing," Lily added definitively.

"Lily, who's the philosopher that made the idea of knowing nothing famous?" James asked knowingly.

"Socrates."

James' lips stretched and moved as he exaggeratedly mouthed 'know-it-all' at her. Irritated, Lily took a swipe at him, but he dodged easily out of the way, snickering at how she'd walked into his trap. As he hooted and fell into step beside her, his eyes never left her face for a second.

"Lily, I never said I had a problem with you being a loud, frenetic, know-it-all. In fact, I find those to be some of your best qualities. Half-librarian, half-Tasmanian-devil? What more could a bloke ask for in a girl?"

"And what are you?" Lily challenged. "Half-blind and half-spider?"

"Spider?"

"You have freakishly long legs," Lily explained.

"Ah, yes. Again, what more could a girl ask for?"

Without breaking stride, James said, voice more solemn before, "But, seriously, Lily, don't change for a bunch of berks like them. You're perfect just as you are."

They arrived at the doors to the Entrance Hall, and James hauled the giant door open for her to pass. His arm was within reach, and it would have been easy to slip hers back beneath it, to gain back that press of warmth from when they'd walked arm in arm. Unsure, Lily hesitated awkwardly, while he closed the door. Like her arms might betray her and scream their desire to him, Lily folded them against her chest. James made no move to grab her arm, so they resumed walking with a respectful distance between them.

Lily chose not to comment on whether a girl could indeed ask for better than James Potter because her humiliating instinct was no, she could not. Instead, she returned to the subject of her apparent enemies. "You're right about the eight people who apparently find me annoying and have never heard of Plato. Personal rancor has been introduced. You're hereby demoted to my number two nemesis, but if you work really hard, I'm sure you can earn back your title."

"You're very quippy tonight," James commented.

Frankly, Lily said, "It's because I'm with you. You're always so clever with the things you say. It's like tennis. You're always serving these witty remarks. It makes me want to return the ball."

James stopped walking and just looked at her. Uncomfortable, Lily turned away, kept walking and forced James to catch up with unbroken strides. In the past, she would have interpreted that pause as carrying emotional weight, like her compliment had struck through to his very heart. Recent history had proven, however, that her understanding of James was shoddy, nonexistent even. For all she knew, James had paused to contemplate how any girl could be so pathetic as to still admire him after being so soundly rejected. She certainly felt pathetic.

"You see our relationship as very combative, don't you?" James said, returning to her tennis comparison.

Because you made it that way.

The time for honesty had passed, so Lily changed the subject, "Danyal's very pretty."

"Seriously?"

"What? I'm just saying, she's a good choice if you like pretty girls, which I imagine you do because why wouldn't you? She's intelligent, too. A prefect. How many OWLs did she manage?"

"Dunno, I think seven," James said, not giving the question much thought.

Seven to Lily's six.

"Whew! Seven! Now, there's the dream girl. Smart and lovely," Lily continued, voice lighter than air to contrast with the very real heaviness developing in her stomach.

"Why are you doing this?" James snapped.

"What? I can't help noticing what a catch Danyal is. I'm a real savant of dateable girls. You know, I've noticed Danyal is nice, too?" Lily continued.

"Stop. Please, stop. I'll pay you to leave off this," James pleaded.

"I would have thought you'd be happy to brag about her. I mean, that's kind of what blokes do when they luck out with a girl like Danyal, right? She's just perfect. You must be so happy."

James halted in his tracks, once again, and this time, he forced Lily to do the same. They were halfway up the fourth-floor staircase, James in front, and she couldn't continue on without body-checking him to the side. He whirled around to face her. They were fast passing the territory of light banter. James was livid.

"You know, Sirius is such a swell guy. Every girl in school says he's just so fit, and he has that whole brooding, I could snap at any moment bad boy thing to his credit. You must be so happy," James said, mimicking her peppy delivery to the letter. The only difference was the way the veins of his crossed arms visibly bulged.

"I am," Lily said, just as pissy.

"He's so dreamy," James continued, like she had never answered his question. "I bet you can't wait for him to sweep you off your feet and give you your first proper stuffing. So happy."

Lily might have slapped him if he didn't choose that moment to wheel back around and continue up the stairs. Instead, she raced after him, figuring she might be able to grab a chuck of his stupidly messy hair and send him tumbling down the stairs.

"How dare you! That's just vulgar and rude and inappropriate, and I'm going to run out of adjectives for how much that wasn't okay!"

Buffeted by her indignation, Lily matched James' pace, drawing close by his side. His jaw was locked tight, and he'd grown as red as a beet. Anger did no favor for James in the personality or looks department.

"You're right, completely inappropriate. Just like you trying to punish me for not taking you to a bloody party is inappropriate," James said through clenched teeth.

Lily opened her mouth to retort but couldn't construct an argument that held up. He'd aimed to sexually humiliate her with his barb, but so had she when she blathered on about Danyal. Given a few more seconds of silence to rant, and Lily might have said much the same about James hoping to get in Danyal's knickers. Sometimes nothing seemed beyond her. Certainly, nothing got beyond James, who gave as good as he got, always; he didn't pull punches just because she was a girl or a Gryffindor or had a stupid crush on him that announced itself in goofy smiles, big as a billboard. When throwing the first hex, you couldn't turn around and be outraged when your opponent returned with one of their own.

Shrinking in on herself, Lily sank into the wall at the top of the stairwell. He was right. She was out of control, trying to provoke a reaction from him, not to punish him like he suggested, but because the only times she could tell what he was thinking was when he was red-blooded with fury. And alright, maybe just a little because she felt small and worthless at the thought of James and Danyal together, and it smarted her pride. Challenging their relationship, belittling it, reversed the tables, giving her a few moments to feel as if she were the strong one.

The pit that had opened up in her chest and was swirling with anxiety seconded James' call that it was time to stop. She ought to be better than this. She'd never been a moral authority on much of anything, but she also wasn't cruel for the sake of it. Remembering that James had feelings and wasn't just as a cut-out representation of her rejection had become a struggle, but it was one that a good person would take on.

"I'm sorry. I'll lay off," Lily offered quietly.

James didn't say anything for a long minute. Inside, Lily shriveled and languished in the agony of waiting, and when he did finally respond it was only with a stilted "whatever." Then, he resumed walking, assuming Lily would trot along after. She didn't, and James was halfway up the next flight of stairs before he realized that Lily hadn't followed. When he did, he whirled around, hands in the air, to glare at her.

"Come on," he snapped.

"It's a two-minute walk from here," Lily said quietly, but her voice carried, bouncing off the stone walls to James' waiting ears. "I can make it on my own. Thank you for your company."

James muttered something to himself, and the sound didn't drift downwards as clearly, but Lily thought she made out the word 'insufferable.' Then, he took the steps two at a time to reach her side again.

"Don't be stubborn," James said. "Come on."

Eyes fixed on the chipped stone of the landing, avoiding the hazel eyes that dominated her daydreams, Lily realized it was once again time for honesty.

Miserably, Lily said, "I was being a prat before because I'm jealous of you and Danyal, which doesn't make it right. I'm sorry. I really do think all those good things about her, and I hope you are truly happy dating her or whatever it is you're doing."

Long, weighty silences were becoming a habit between them. Lily knew James was looking at her, and she knew his expression would be as intense as it was inscrutable, so she simply didn't look.

"Lily…"

When she still didn't look up, James brought three knuckles to her chin, gently pressing upwards until she met his eyes. Whether he approved or not, her wounded confession had sapped the anger from him, and he no longer looked like he wanted to strangle himself to end the conversation.

"You shouldn't be feeling jealous of me while you're with Sirius," James said, like Lily needed something so obvious explained.

"I know."

"It's not right," James repeated.

"I know. I just need to get over you, I mean, it," Lily said.

"How about a trade? I'll forgive you if you forgive me?" James said, "It's only fair.

Lily actually smiled. "Nice try."

They shared a laugh. None of the tension dissolved. It still hung thick in the air, but clear as a yellow brick road, Lily could see the path out for the both of them. Step by step, they could crawl their way out of the morass of complications that had enveloped them and make their way to friendship.

"Come on, I'll walk you the rest of the way," James offered again.

Lily shook her head. "Thanks, really, but I can make it from here. You shouldn't keep Danyal waiting."

This time, James didn't fight her. He just gave her a smile, bittersweet and heavy with goodbyes, and then he turned his back to her. Lily lingered and watched him leave, counting her heartbeats until she no longer felt fragile as a paper swing.

For her own sake, she ought to head back to Gryffindor Tower, slide into bed beside Mei-Lin and talk about the newspaper and Will's ill-fated crush on Remus until sleep took her. She was emotionally exhausted, which was more tiring than forsaking sleep for a day. Unfortunately, Lily couldn't return to bed. There was still the matter of Sirius wandering the grounds with mystery plans, heading towards the Quidditch Pitch, which was in the same direction of the boat house. The same boat house where James and Danyal – both suspects – were purportedly meeting. She smelled the Grindylows.

Cautiously, Lily crept from the Great Hall, past the Entrance Courtyard. A path of wide stone steps led to the boat house, winding downward so that Lily feared that she might round a corner and bump into James every few steps. The lanterns along the walkway cast enough light to see only directly in front of her, and she nearly stepped on a mouse that scurried past her feet.

Near the bottom of the path, Lily heard voices and immediately launched into a crouch. One of the voices was distinctly male and very well could have belonged to James. The other, female, might have belonged to Danyal. The voices faded almost entirely when the door of the boathouse closed behind the conversers.

Careful to make as little noise as possible, Lily crept down the remaining steps. The wooden door didn't have a window, so Lily was reduced to peeping through the keyhole, an entirely ineffective strategy as it turned out. For a minute, Lily waffled, unsure what she ought to do. If she burst in, James would understandably take the interruption as a sign that Lily was still jealous and had learned nothing from their conversation, jeopardizing her relationship with Sirius and any chance at friendship with James, but, on the other hand, she might never have as golden an opportunity to spot out members of the Grindylows.

If only there was a place to the side of the path where she could conceal herself, Lily might have waited until their meeting had ended to see who left the boathouse, but there was no hiding place anywhere along the path. She'd have to sit in bold view of her targets on the stairs.

While the door was heavy, it occurred to Lily that she still ought to be able to hear some hint of voices drifting through from the other side, but she heard none. All was silent except for the occasional caw of a seagull soaring overhead.

Why go to a boathouse if not to commandeer a boat?

Lily pushed open the door without another second's thought. Sure enough, the boathouse was empty. At a run, Lily went to the water's edge, peering out over the dark water for any sign of a boat sailing away. She couldn't see anything, so she risked a lumos maximus. The spell illuminated the lake to its farthest coast. She could see out in every direction. There was no sign of a boat.

Desperate, Lily scanned the water several times over, and after that the skies, like they might have flown away, but the light revealed nothing but stars. Next, Lily checked the rafters overhead where the boats were housed. Each space was filled with its designated boat with none missing.

She'd lost them.