**Disclaimer: The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.


"London's burning! London's burning!
All across the town, all across the night
Everybody's driving with full headlights."
The Clash
"London's Burning" (1977)

Chapter 08: Everybody's Driving with Full Headlights

"I believe her. She said she gave it to Rosier without any leading. I didn't even say his name until she did," Narcissa told Snape in hushed tones. They were standing in the foyer of Malfoy Manor, speaking to each other as lowly as possible to try to avoid the inevitable echo. The ceiling was three stories high and the whole room was lined in white marble. "I don't know what good it does us, really. It's her word against that of a trusted servant, and she's clearly lost her grip on sanity."

Snape's expression was pensive. "I think you're underestimating the value of your visit. If Lucius had given Alida the note and she had not delivered it, the blame would be on him and there would be little we could do. But that's not the case. She delivered it to Rosier, which means that he is lying for some reason and is a strong enough Occlumens to avoid suspicion."

Narcissa worried her lower lip. "What if I talked to him?"

Snape goggled at her. "The Dark Lord?"

"It might make a difference—"

But Snape was already shaking his head. "No it wouldn't. All it would do is make him aware of you and your knowledge of his dealings. He'd either kill you or force you to take a Dark Mark. Lucius has gone out of his way to keep you from that, and with good reason." There was something tight, strained in Snape's features as he spoke. She saw it sometimes on her husband's face as well, and wondered at it. She was very aware of Lucius' desire to keep her clear of Death Eater business, and she was still trying to think of the best way to confess to him that she had gone to Azkaban to speak with his cousin. Snape continued, "Not only that, it wouldn't help Lucius at all. The Dark Lord is not going to trust your word or Alida's over Rosier's."

She was becoming frustrated. "Then what can be done?"

Snape motioned silence at her and she glowered at him. "I'm thinking."

"Mistress?" the tiny, squeaky voice of a House Elf intruded into the conversation. When she looked at the creature, it continued. "Master Lucius is calling for you, Mistress."

She turned back to Snape. "If you'll excuse me, I'm needed elsewhere. Cobble will show you out. Contact me if you ever finish thinking of a way out of this mess." She meant it in the most insulting way, but Snape was smiling in a practically triumphant fashion.

"I believe I have." He gave her that slight bow of his that always seemed on the border between sincere and mocking, and lifted his pointed hat to sit upon his head. "Don't fret, Narcissa. Everything will be all right. We have the truth on our side." And with an enigmatic grin he walked to the door with the House Elf and was gone.


"I don't understand why we're the ones doing the cleanup."

Lily looked disapproving. "Because we're the ones who made the mess."

James raised an eyebrow. 'We' wasn't really the correct term. Lily had cooked dinner in Sirius' flat for the three of them, she had made the mess. His fiancée had prepared all of his best mate's favorites: pork roast with root vegetables and brown bread. That equaled a lot of dirty dishes, more than enough for three people. Besides, Padfoot had reaped the deliciousness of the dinner—shouldn't he be here to help at least?

Lily correctly read the look on his face. "Stop whining. At least you have a wand. You're forgetting that you are talking to someone who had to clean the Muggle way for years. You get no sympathy from me, Mr. Potter." She kissed him, pressing her whole body against his, which was overkill levels of coaxing. "Now, help me scrub these pans."

"I'll just go get Sirius to pitch in," he said.

But she grabbed his wrist and pulled him up to the sink beside her. "No, you will not. He's had a lousy day. Leave him be."

James sighed and drew his wand. Yes, Padfoot was certainly in a funk, but James wasn't sure he liked the way Lily had taken to mothering their friend. It indulged Padfoot's darker moods too much.

He also didn't know what he thought of this Marlene. Lily seemed to adore her, and James had never seen Sirius this way over a bird before—even Maggie when the two of them were just starting out—but James wasn't sure he trusted her. Oh sure, he was fairly certain that she was a good person. Probably. He hoped.

But she was also intense, odd, and…anti-magic almost. She was still mourning the death of her husband, still wearing her goddamned wedding ring. Marlene was emotionally tied up, she had baggage, and that made her likely incapable of giving as good as she got in a relationship. The woman had a kid, for fuck's sake. Sirius was seeing a woman with a kid! That was insane in ways he would never be able to articulate.

It would all be hilarious if Sirius weren't so miserable. He'd been moping all evening like a lovesick puppy, and James couldn't even bring himself to take the piss about it.

James turned to look at Lily, and his thoughts briefly derailed. That happened more than he would ever admit to another living soul. He'd be thinking about one thing, catch site of Lily, and she would politely escort all other things besides her off a cliff and out of his head.

Her vibrant green eyes were focused on her task, and her nose was scrunched up in her concentration. Ah, hell…. Fuck it.

He dropped his wand on the counter and kissed her. It wasn't a hungry or lustful kiss, but it was heartfelt. It was a kiss to tell her that she was adorable, that he loved her, that he appreciated every moment that he got to spend with her. He felt the lips under his pull into a quick smile before she returned the kiss. God, he loved her.

"Really? I can't leave you two alone for five minutes. This is my kitchen, you know," Sirius' voice intruded into their moment.

Lily burst into giggles while her mouth was still against his, and James was grinning when he pulled back. He kissed the top of her head before he looked at his best mate. Sirius seemed to think that James should account for himself, but he just shrugged and wrapped his arms around Lily when she tried to move away.

The look on Padfoot's face called them idiots, but they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Sirius shook his head at them one more time before he moved to answer it.

James indulged himself with one more peck before reaching for his wand again. Voices began to drift toward them.

"What are you doing here? I didn't even think you knew where I lived," Sirius' voice sounded like it was trying to be hard, but there was no bite.

A woman's voice answered. "Lily told me you live across the hall from her."

Lily perked up and immediately moved to the doorway separating the kitchen from the main room to eavesdrop.

James rolled his eyes. Marrying a little sneak, he was. He pocketed his wand and strode up behind his girl, scooped her up into his arms, and carried her around the corner.

The door came into view as Marlene was saying, "I don't need Benjy Fucking Fenwick to tell me how much I love or don't love my husband, and what you and I are doing is none of his business either." She seemed startled to see Lily and James walking toward her.

"Hi Marlene," Lily waved.

"We'll be next door, so that you two can have some privacy," James said, and Marlene stood aside so that he could carry Lily by her. He gave Sirius an encouraging smile as he passed. "Get the door, love," he whispered in Lily's ear as they approached their flat, and she obliged.

When the door closed behind them, James continued walking rather than putting Lily down.

"Where are we going?" Lily asked.

He nuzzled her earlobe and then nipped it. "To the bedroom, so that I can make love to you."

She made a noise in her throat at his words, a noise he recognized. He knew from experience that if she had been standing, her knees would have gone slack. James loved it—always randy, his girl. Always ready.

But her words said something else. "No, wait."

"Why?" He gave her a love bite at the nape of her neck.

"James, put me down."

And because he could tell that she was determinedly fighting her arousal, that she was in fact serious, he did as she asked.

She was unsteady on her feet and collapsed more than sat on the sofa. He gazed at her, smitten, while she struggled to compose herself. Lily looked up and him and patted the seat beside her.

James shrugged and sat. He could make this work; it would hardly be the first time they shagged on this particular piece of furniture.

Pumpkin jumped up onto the cushion beside them and made to climb into Lily's lap, but he waved the cat off. Lily's lap was his, for the next few hours at least.

"James! Don't be mean to her." She spoke to the cat, "Oh you poor baby, you can come back."

"No she can't," he caught Lily's eyes. "We're going to talk about whatever you want to talk about, and then I am going to—"

Lily clapped her hand over his mouth. "Oh my god, stop!" she was half pleading and half laughing. "I need to apologize to you, and it needs to be respectful and sincere, and I can't do that when you're trying to get into my knickers."

That sobered him a bit. "Apologize? For what?"

Her brows knit as she reminded him. "Dumbledore's office this morning? The invitation to join his organization?"

James' smile was officially gone now. He'd tried to forget about that, at least for today.

"You were right," Lily said. "We're partners now, and we make decisions together."

He sighed and shifted his position so that he was facing forward rather than looking at his soon-to-be wife. He unconsciously rumpled his hair before he spoke again. "You were right, too. We're fighting this war. Whatever this group is, of course we're joining."

"I'm still sorry."

"It was just unnerving," James continued, "how quickly you agreed. How gung-ho you were about the whole thing."

"Oh James, of course I feel passionately. People are dying." She reached out her hand to caress the side of his face, and his gaze swung her way again. "People are being hurt," and it was clear that by 'people' she was specifically thinking of him. "We're not just starting a marriage, James. We're starting a family. I don't want our children to grow up in fear like this."

He heart stopped beating. "You want children?"

She looked at him as though he had three heads. It was a silly question, and this was a conversation they probably should have already had. Wasn't this sort of thing supposed to come before a bloke gave his girl a ring?

Lily chewed her lower lip. "Honestly…?" and she seemed to lose her words for a moment. Instead she shrugged. "It's not something I thought a lot about growing up. I mean, some girls know, always have known, that they want to be mothers. I've been…ambivalent, I guess. But, since we started dating, and especially since we decided to get married, I've been thinking. I'm still pretty lukewarm about the idea of children in general, but the thought of your children, the thought of raising them with you?" She gave a shy, unsure smile. "Yes, I want kids."

Was there any acceptable response to that besides a kiss? His heart was soaring.

Lily chuckled, and when they broke apart she said, "I take that to mean you want kids, too?"

He nodded into her neck and pressed his lips to her throat before pulling back.

"Not now," Lily clarified, her eyes watching his face closely. "Not until after this war is over."

James nodded. "Of course."

She sighed as though relieved. He took her hand in his. Back to the subject at hand. If there was to be a future for them after this war….

"You're angry, Lily. I am too, but not like…. Don't think I haven't noticed." Her eyes had narrowed and she tried to pull her hand back, but he didn't loosen his grip. "You have reason to be—we all do. Just…please, don't do anything rash. When I see you fired up the way you were earlier, it just makes me worry. Lily…I can't do this without you."

Her face softened as she studied him.

"I'm okay," he reassured her. "They hurt me, but I'm okay. You're the reason that I'm okay. So, I'm just asking…be careful."

Lily fought back her tears and then blurted, "Marry me, James."

Startled laughter sputtered out of him. "I thought we'd already agreed to do that."

Her face was a little pink from embarrassment. "No," she scrambled to explain. "We agreed to do that sometime in the future, at an unset point in time. I'm saying I want to now."

James blinked. "Right now?"

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously not. But soon."

"How soon?"

She shrugged and suggested, "Next week?"

James shook his head. "That's not enough time."

"Time for what? We're not planning an invasion, James."

"Don't you need to get a dress? Bridesmaids and all that? A cake?"

The look that came over Lily's face was so dejected that James immediately regretted whatever he'd said that hit such a nerve.

"What bridesmaids? My sister hates me. Pilar's in Spain, Hestia is doing her Magical Creatures fellowship in Australia, and Mel…"

James swallowed, definitely feeling remorse for his words.

"I hate buttercream icing, white isn't really my color, and flowers make you sneeze. I have no father to walk me down the aisle…" she trailed off, then looked at him earnestly. "Honestly James, all we need is you and me."

He forced a smile. "Actually, I think the law requires that someone perform the ceremony in front of witnesses."

She glared at him like he was being difficult for the sake of fun.

"And I'm fairly certain that my mother will never forgive either of us if she doesn't get to be one of those witnesses," he continued.

"So, let's invite your parents, a few friends, and do it in an afternoon. I know the priest of my old parish would be willing to work us in at a moment's notice."

This gave James pause. "You…want a religious ceremony?"

"I want to get married in the same church that my parents did," Lily clarified.

He considered that, and then nodded his agreement. It was a small concession, and it didn't make much difference to him either way, but it was clear it mattered to her. There was something else, though, and considering what she'd said about bridesmaids he wasn't sure how she would react to it. Nevertheless, he had to tell her. "I already asked Sirius to be my best man."

She didn't seem surprised by this information, and her next words elaborated. "He told me, and I had already assumed that he would be anyway." She didn't seem upset, but she did look pensive.

"What is it?"

Her tiny smile was back, and she seemed almost reticent as she spoke. "I was thinking the other day, after Sirius told me, about a maid of honor and…." She shrugged. "James, I think within the past year, Sirius has become the closest thing to a best friend that I have, too."

James cocked a brow. "So you asked him to be your maid of honor then, did you?"

Lily laughed, and Merlin he was glad that he had made her laugh, wiped the sorrow of a few moments ago right off her face.

"No, of course not."

"We can share him," James declared magnanimously. "So it's settled. We're getting married…next Thursday. How does Thursday sound?" Thursday was far enough after the full moon that Remus would be able to attend.

She beamed. "Wonderful."

"Are we done talking?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes," she granted.

"Thank god," he said. He lifted her like a sack of potatoes and carried her to their bed, where she bounced into a position of half-sitting and half-reclining. "For future reference, an apology doesn't need to be a serious talk—it can involve sex. Personally, I think the bedroom is a great place to apologize. In fact, I'm still hurt. I might need some more apologizing."

Lily giggled and rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll suck you off."

"Really?"

"You can just ask, James. I know it's your favorite thing—you don't need the elaborate hinting."

He didn't know about favorite, per se, but it was fucking brilliant. She knew him so well.

Lily seized him by the buckle of his belt and pulled him toward her. She had that sexy, devilish expression as she looked up at him and unfastened his trousers. Bloody hell, he was a lucky bastard.


The dining room was candlelit and shadows were cast eerily against the walls while House Elves walked back and forth serving food. The mahogany table was polished and added to the atmosphere of the room—no lightness of color seemed to be permitted, and the furniture was so sparse that there were whole cold swaths of empty space in the room. The only décor were grim-looking portraits of dead ancestors dressed in black.

It was fair to say that the Lestranges were not cheery people.

The dining table was seated to capacity with Death Eaters of Voldemort's favor, of which Severus Snape had barely made the cut due to his recent brewing of the Emerald Potion. The Dark Lord sat at the head of the table, naturally, even though this was not, strictly speaking, his home. To his right sat his old friend Alan Mulciber, and beside Mulciber was Antonin Dolohov. To the left of the Dark Lord were Aurelian Nott and Tacitus Rosier. These four had been with Voldemort from the beginning, from Hogwarts, along with Stockard Avery, who was not in attendance due to a mission. The sons of Nott, Mulciber, and Rosier were the next seated. This group included Evan Rosier, the target of Severus' plot for the night.

The Lestranges were seated at the other end of the table, along with Travis Gibbon, Augustus Rookwood, Richard Avery, Igor Karkaroff, and Festus Wilkes. Severus was jumbled into the anonymous middle of the dining table with the likes of Walden McNair, Hornby Travers, Carpus Crabbe, Stephan Goyle, and Wendell Jugson. No one took note of him, and he was barely spoken to.

Severus was doing his utmost to project an outward air of calm. What he planned for tonight was an even bigger gamble than his delivery of the Emerald Potion. It could very easily go the wrong way, but Severus had at least taken steps to protect himself if tonight did not go as planned.

The inescapable truth was that Severus had hitched his wagon to Lucius Malfoy early on. If Malfoy became disgraced, they would go down together. Severus was not going down. At the very least, he'd take that arrogant twit Rosier with him.

The meal passed in low conversation. The meeting would not properly begin until after. The men with graying hair at the Dark Lord's side of the table were eating meat still dripping with blood, and Severus found he could not watch. McNair was telling a story in which he compared the finer points of butchering of horse for meat to the butchering of a human body for disposal, and Severus found he could not listen.

He ate his greens, but they had no taste. He had a few spoonfuls of soup, but did not touch his beef or wine.

Jugson kept trying to start a conversation, but Severus did not engage or encourage him.

He pushed everything into its proper place in his mind. He closed all the doors and visualized locking them. He put them at the bottom of the ocean. He began to build his wall. None of his weaknesses had any place at this table tonight.

It was nearing time; the meal was concluding and the House Elves were clearing the plates.

When the snifter of after-dinner brandy was placed before him, Severus managed to keep his breathing even. His muscles did not clench, and his eyes did not betray recognition at the sight of the trio of hawk shaped decanters that were now pouring glasses for the entire table. He waited patiently.

Voldemort rose from his place of honor and gazed down the table at his followers. His glass was filled with snake blood and venom, as was his habit, not the brandy. He raised the glass and toasted their most recent successes, but Severus was not listening to the words at this point. Anticipation was getting the better of him and his gaze was affixed to Evan Rosier; his pulse began to race.

The Dark Lord drank, and in so doing, signaled for the table to follow.

Severus fortified his mind with one final breath, and sipped the brandy.

In that ever so small window of silence after everyone had taken a single swallow, before Voldemort could speak again, Severus Snape took his life into his hands.

"Evan, nasty business about that safe house. What do you believe happened to the Dark Lord's orders?"

All eyes swung to Severus—unfriendly eyes, shocked at his presumption.

And then….

"I don't know for certain. Alida Ackerley gave them to me in the Mosses' billiard room on behalf of Lucius Malfoy and I put them in the left pocket of my waistcoat," Rosier was speaking, the truth, against his will. "When I reached for the note later in the evening, after my midnight wank, it was gone. I asked Fest and Rob about it, because they were there when she gave me the orders, but they had no notion of what had happened. The only explanation I can think of is that they were stolen, possibly by Sirius Black and James Potter. Those two bumped into me in a very suspicious fashion in a hall at the party." Rosier's face was white. His eyes, wide with horror, darted first to his forbidding father, then up toward the Dark Lord.

Before anyone could properly take in Rosier's confession, Robin Mulciber and Festus Wilkes were corroborating story, tripping over themselves and their words, but still compelled to continue speaking.

And then the table erupted. Gibbon began talking about a time that he had lost orders as well, but had managed to muddle and lie his way through the mission anyway. Goyle confessed to knowing about that. Travers blurted that he had a habit of leaving his orders out where his wife might read them, and then Julian Nott said that accidentally left his Death Eater mask in a prostitute's suite and had to go back for it the next day. Avery said that he remembered that. Jugson smiled with relish while he recounted that he loved to kidnap girls from pubs, tell them about the people he killed in detail while he raped them, then Obliviate their memories—at the same time that Crabbe started an exhaustive account of all the things he asked for when he went to see prostitutes. Goyle added that his mistress knew he was a Death Eater and was blackmailing him into debt. McNair stole mints from Voldemort's study every time he visited.

These were just the things that Severus heard—more truth was being vomited at either end of the table than could be made out above the din. But he kept his head, his mouth stayed shut even as he felt the Veritaserum burning in his belly. His breathing was even, and instead he studied the others.

This was an opportunity.

Veritaserum was powerful, but not infallible, and it revealed much about those who drank it. The effects of the potion could be quashed, and not just by antidote. Evidence obtained with the truth serum was not admissible in a criminal trial for the simple fact that it could be overcome, it could be fooled, especially when a person knew it was coming. People strong in Occlumency, strong in mind and will, could master the potion's impulses.

Of course, the people who sat at the table with Severus just now had not known that this was coming. There was a window, a small window, between when everyone drank the potion and when they figured out what had happened and started to fight back. And there would be powerful motivation to fight the effects: the Dark Lord was watching. Their leader was a powerful Legilimens, but many in this room were also skilled Occlumens; this attack was insidious and devastating because it was unprovoked, unanticipated, and came from that little upstart Snape whom everyone had underestimated.

Severus relished the chaos even as his eyes swept the group, taking in the data. Not the secrets—those were now known and thus without value. No, Severus was interested in who managed to work through the dilemma fastest, who identified the cause of the outbursts and were able to stop themselves from talking.

Rookwood was the fastest, and Severus took note of that. The old mages down by Voldemort also managed it rather quickly, and so did most of their sons, including Evan. Richard Avery couldn't seem to help himself, however, and prattled and prattled. The Lestrange brothers and their father were next to pull themselves back, but Rodolphus had to reach around and clamp his hand over his wife's mouth for a few minutes before she was able to contain herself. Severus wished that he hadn't heard what she's had to say, and judging the look on her husband's face, he wasn't alone in that.

Some were hopeless; Crabbe, Goyle, Jugson, Gibbon, and Wilkes would probably all be uncomfortably honest for hours until the potion worked its way through their system.

Finally, Voldemort's voice could be heard above them all. "Enough!"

Silence fell, and then after a beat a few began to speak again, obsessively, though under their breath as they tried to keep their voices as low as possible.

"Out!" Voldemort yelled. "All of you!"

There was frantic scrambling as everyone pushed their chairs back and clambered to their feet.

"Except you, Snape." The cold, shrill voice carried over the noise, even though the Dark Lord was no longer shouting.

Severus had been expecting this. He had not moved to stand, had in fact not moved a muscle since calling out his fateful question to Rosier. As his colleagues rammed into each other, pushing their way out of the dining hall, Severus finished building a wall, brick by brick, in his mind. It was a strong wall, the strongest he had ever built. He'd been nurturing it for days. Voldemort would not get through. Severus was safe and there was no reason to panic. He breathed in, and out, and believed that. His pulse was steady, and when he looked up at the enraged red eyes of his master, he was not afraid.

Silence hung in the room while the echoes of the retreating faded.

"What was the meaning of that little stunt?" Voldemort hissed.

Severus did not flinch. "I should have thought it obvious." He reached into his robes and withdrew a flask of Veritaserum. He placed in on the table between himself and his master, who was standing across from him. He pushed the flask toward the Dark Lord. "One of your servants was lying to you. I knew that he was lying and that he was too skilled at Occlumency and too trusted to be caught."

"So you thought to make fools of us all?" the Dark Lord's voice somehow managed to become colder.

But Severus did not falter. "I made a fool of him, my Lord. If one of us takes advantage of your trust, it's bad for all of us. It's bad for the cause."

Voldemort's lip curled in a snarl. "You expect me to believe that's all there was to your motives?"

"I drank the potion, too."

"Are you not also a skilled Occlumens, Severus Snape?"

"I am," Severus admitted baldly. "But I'll wager you are a more skilled Legilimens." He gestured his hand in invitation toward his head. "By all means, my Lord."

Voldemort studied the young man, shrewd eyes raking over every inch of him. The Dark Lord was no fool, and this time he would not simply mosey into Severus' mind, this time it would be complete, proper. At full power. He drew his wand, pointed it and cast, "Legilimens!"

Severus let him right in, without fuss. There were no doubts about the cause, no squeamishness about killing or hurting people, no lies that he had told his master, repeatedly. There was no Lily Evans. Those things were so far away, and so heavily fortified that Severus had forgotten them completely. They did not exist.

Instead, he showed Voldemort the squalor and poverty of his childhood, the fists and steel-toed boots of his father. He showed him how brilliant he had been in school, but also how persecuted and looked down upon, within his own House and without. The half-blood Slytherin, the poor boy Slytherin. The Dark Lord went forward and backward in time. He looked at memories and fantasies, dreams and nightmares, contemplations and ambitions. It went on and on, for what felt like hours. Severus did not become anxious or impatient.

Through it all, the wall held firm and remained invisible.

At last it ended, and the Voldemort that considered him now was a calmer animal. Severus had a sense that he had never had before—a sense that his master was taking him seriously.

"You do not care for the privileged position of many of your peers, do you Severus?"

There was no sense in lying when they both knew the truth. Voldemort had been in his head, he knew Severus' attitude toward these snobbish rich boys who took their place in the world as a matter of course. "No, I don't. Power should earned or taken, never given or inherited."

To this, Voldemort said nothing, merely stared. Then he reached out and took the flask of potion that his servant had offered.

"You may go."

Severus rose from his seat and bowed. His footsteps echoed off the flagstone floor as he walked to the door.

When he opened it, Bellatrix Lestrange was waiting for him on the other side. Her natural beauty was obscured by the violent fury on her face, and the still-healing chemical burns that had obliterated most of the hair on the left side of her head.

"He left you alive!" It was a shriek more than a question.

Severus inclined his head. "We had a nice chat."

"Mark my words, you little shit, I will—"

But Severus cut her off. "I wouldn't, not when it seems to be the Dark Lord's will that I live. Unpunished at that." He smiled. "Did you do something new with your hair? It suits you. Thank you for dinner. You were a lovely hostess."


"I don't know about this Fergus. I just don't know," James told the bartender at the Hog's Head. He was watching as people entered and assembled. The room had been filling up for the past half hour, ever since the clock had struck two in the morning and the Hog's Head officially closed to paying customers.

James had arrived with Lily and his mates right on time, but it seemed some of Dumbledore's friends had loose definitions of punctuality. There was a wheezy-voiced old man by the door, directing invitees as they found their way in. James didn't recognize him, but he knew Sturgis Podmore, the old Ravenclaw stick-in-the-mud Quidditch captain from his fourth year. The tosser would get along great with that git Frank Longbottom, who had raised an eyebrow when James walked in. The two of them were talking in the far corner while nursing Butterbeers with Frank's wife Alice. What a waste, that. Alice was fun; James had no idea what she saw in Frank.

Speaking of people who thought they were better than everyone else, there were two witches talking to each other in low voices by the fireplace who hadn't said a word to anyone else. One was tall, middle aged, wore green Healer's robes, and had her blonde hair pulled back into a rather severe-looking bun. James had caught eyes with her earlier, and her gaze had been scathing. He hadn't even said a word to her! The woman's companion was a willowy looking younger witch with chestnut colored hair, a tiny turned up nose covered in freckles, and eyes the color of ice. She kept sending Benjy Fenwick and Marlene McKinnon scowls.

Lily had informed James that Marlene and Fenwick would be at the meeting about eight hours previous, when she herself had found out. Sure, they were familiar faces, and Sirius, Lily, Remus, and Peter were sitting with them at a table just now, but James had yet to make up his mind as to whether or not he felt it was a good thing that his best mate's bird and his fiancée's boss were here.

James turned back to the barkeep. "You got anything stronger than this back there, Fergus?" He swilled his Butterbeer to illustrate.

The white-bearded man just stared back.

"Of course you do," James insisted.

Stoic silence.

"Let me guess, Dumbledore said to keep the good stuff locked up for the meeting?"

The patron shrugged as though it was all out of his hands.

James downed the rest of his Butterbeer in one long guzzle. He plunked the glass bottle onto the bar, and shuddered as he swallowed. "It's all right, Fergus. I forgive you. You're just doing your job."

"What are you doing over here?" Sirius demanded as he approached.

James spread his palms. "Just wetting my whistle."

Sirius studied him for a moment, then knit his brows and looked at James like there was a pustule growing on his face. "You're nervous," he accused.

James' eyes widened. "I am n—shut it!" He whipped around and looked back at the barkeep. "Another Butterbeer, old chap."

Sirius leaned against the bar beside James facing the opposite direction, out toward the room. "You're not actually intimidated by these fucks, are you?"

James opened the bottle of his drink rather than answer.

Sirius was mocking him. "Merlin you've gone soft. Now all it takes to make the great James Potter feel inferior is a job."

"You noticed that too, did you?" James said as he took a drink.

"What?" Padfoot tried to pretend that he didn't understand his mate's meaning.

"That these people all have jobs. They're professionals and bloody grownups."

"We don't even know these people, Prongs."

James glared. "We know Podmore—we both know he works in the Department of Magical Transportation. We know Alice and Frank are Aurors now. Alice got a sodding medal just last week for bravery in the field."

"Yeah," Sirius said with a grin. "Alice was always pretty cool. Wouldn't go for me though, even when I promised her I'd give her pie a good eating first."

James choked on his Butterbeer. "Jesus Padfoot! She was like everyone in the House's big sister."

"She's also sexy. You telling me you never thought of her that way?"

"No!"

"That's just your Lily Evans tunnel vision talking."

"Lily also has a job now, you know. A real one, not some juvenile, part-time bollocks."

"Yeah, she told me," Sirius said carefully. "Moony and Wormy are gainfully employed as well. Are you telling me that you're awed by them?"

Rather than answer directly, James said, "What are we doing with our lives, Padfoot? Are we even adults?"

"Yes. We're adults who have the means and privilege to enjoy our lives, without all that nasty back-breaking labor. Working is overrated."

The bartender grunted while he continued to wipe glasses with a dirty rag.

"See," Sirius said. "Fergus knows what I'm talking about." Sirius nudged James shoulder with his. "Besides, I'm more curious about the lovely little bite by the fire. Look at her, Prongs. Freckles, just how you like."

James glanced at the woman. She had a leather satchel, stamped with the Wizengamot seal. "I think she works for the courts."

Sirius whapped him across the back of the head. "Will you stop it with the jobs nonsense? Forget for two minutes that you're engaged and simply admire the scenery."

He glared at his mate. "No."

Sirius threw his eyes up toward the ceiling in exasperation, but Lily was in the room and James wasn't daft.

"Wormy, back me up," Padfoot spoke to their friend, whom James hadn't even heard approach. "The bird by the fire—fuckable, right?"

Peter sort of squeaked. "No, don't look at her!" He pushed his way between James and Sirius and lowered his voice. "That's Dorcas Meadowes."

"She scary?" Sirius asked.

"She's fucking terrifying," Peter declared adamantly. "And she's in a mood because Fenwick's here."

"They know each other?" James asked.

Peter nodded. "She used to be a friend of Marlene's from Hogwarts and she and Fenwick dated for years."

The mention of Marlene perked Sirius up. "What happened?"

"Fenwick can't keep his wand in his pants," Peter said at a whisper. "He fucked around on her with, like, five other women. Two of them were his own assistants. One was his main donor's wife. When the whole thing blew up in his face, Meadowes went a bit vengeful."

Sirius considered that. "Understandable."

"Well, apparently, she planted Class A Non-Tradable chimera eggs in his potions lab and got him arrested. That's why he has a Limited Apparation License—his criminal record."

"Morgana's frigid tits, that's cold," Sirius said with a whistle.

"She also got his research funding pulled for three years."

Padfoot clapped him on the back. "I think your story peaked with the arrest, Pete."

Wormtail's face colored. "Well, I just wanted to be thorough. I didn't even get to the part where one of Fenwick's assistants cornered Meadowes in a Ministry lift and threw a Tar Curse at her face. Meadowes broke the girl's wand in half and then used a Shearing Charm to cut off all her hair. It was so powerful, the girl's still bald."

James' eyes were wide. "Jesus, Peter! You're such a bloody gossip."

His face now beet-red, Wormy shrugged. "Farrah knows a lot about what goes on at the Ministry."

"And it just came in handy." Sirius rumpled their friend's hair. "I knew you were getting shagged—you always talk more when you're getting shagged."

Peter grinned guiltily through his pink skin.

Sirius' eyes found Marlene, where she was talking animatedly to Remus at a wooden table. "Everything's better when you're getting shagged."

James fought the urge to roll his eyes, somehow doubting that they were even discussing Peter anymore.

The old bartender hummed in his throat.

Sirius said, "Fergus knows what I'm talking about."

With a pitying sigh, Peter said, "Moony doesn't."

Padfoot made a face. "Too right. Bless him, but that stubborn bloke is going to die a virgin."

"We shouldn't let that happen."

"Of course we shouldn't, Wormy. We're excellent friends and we'll find him someone. There's got to be some girl, somewhere, who wouldn't mind being bored out of her mind in the sack." Sirius turned to the barkeep. "You know any birds with low standards, Fergus?"

"I know some goats," the old man said.

All three young men froze and stared. They hadn't expected him to speak—he never spoke!

After a moment, Sirius choked out a wicked laugh. "You're brilliant, Fergus! Brilliant."

Peter also laughed uproariously at the joke.

James cracked a smile, but found himself strangely out of the moment. His mind had snagged in the middle of that last conversation, and he was having trouble moving on. Benjamin Fenwick had a history of seducing his assistants. James couldn't help but note that Lily was currently Fenwick's assistant. He didn't like that, not one bit.

He turned around on his barstool and his eyes went right to Lily, as they were wont to do. She was talking to Fenwick now, and James was seeing the man with new eyes. He was good-looking, charming, and a potions genius; Lily had been known to settle for one out of the three.

James felt sick, and his eyes went to his lap. What was he thinking? He trusted Lily, didn't he? They were getting married in a matter of days. And she was so excited about this job. She was a gifted potion maker and she had been offered an opportunity to foster that potential. He couldn't really ask her to give it up, could he?

"Prongs? You all right, mate?" Sirius asked.

James sat up straight and nodded, but his friend still looked concerned.

The main door banged open and four huge men entered. A tiny dark haired woman followed. James recognized the largest of the men—and he was largest by far. Rubeus Hagrid, the barmy gamekeeper at Hogwarts. James had only spoken to him once, but Sirius had a passing friendship with the man.

With him was a man with a bald head and a long sandy colored beard, and two beefy red-headed men who were obviously twins. The three of them were rugged-looking, with weather beaten skin. They were laughing as though there were some hilarious joke.

"Good lord," Sirius muttered, taking stock of them.

"Gideon and Fabian Prewett," Peter supplied. "They've been cited twice for illegal breeding and selling of magical animals. Which is crazy, because that man they're with? That's Gwythyr Hash, and he's Head of the Beast Division for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

Sirius clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Corruption in the Ministry. I'm shocked."

"Who's the little one?" James asked, indicating the woman.

"His wife," Peter answered in hushed tones. "Isaura Hash. She works in the Improper Use of Magic Office. They say she's part hag."

"Blimey, Dumbledore's got some weird friends."

The barkeep grunted in agreement behind them.

Remus was weaving through the tables and chairs toward his friends. "What are you doing over here?"

"Pete's gossiping like an old biddy," Sirius said with an expression of disgust.

Wormtail let out a noise of offense.

"We're all gossiping like old biddies," James corrected.

Remus looked like he regretted coming over.

"We were just talking about getting you some skirt so that you don't die a virgin," Sirius said. "Unfortunately, it looks like we have Marlene and Lily—which you cannot have; Alice, who's too good for you and married to bloody Frank anyway; a vengeful Valkyrie of Shearing Charms; a half-hag with a mountain troll for a husband; and a goat that Fergus knows." Padfoot sighed. "You may have to settle for the Healer with dust in her vagina."

Remus' eyes swung over toward the fire and woman standing there. "Emmeline Vance? She's lovely."

Sirius scrunched up his nose. "Tell that to her face."

"Fancy her, do you?" Peter waggled his eyebrows.

Remus didn't deign to respond to that.

"Fine!" Sirius sighed in exasperation. "You're a finicky one. The goat it is."

"I thought we were here to fight Death Eaters," Remus said mildly, motioning that he would like another Butterbeer and paying for it. "Sex isn't really part of that."

"It is if you're doing it right," Sirius disagreed.

Even James gave him a look for that one.

But Padfoot persisted. "Everything involves sex if you're doing it right. Especially heroic stuff—birds eat that shit up."

"Dumbledore's here," Remus announced, and he sounded relieved.

James, Sirius, and Peter turned toward the door to confirm. It was indeed Dumbledore, and he was flanked on either side with middle-aged men. One was a short, jittery wizard with a purple top hat, and the other even James recognized.

"Edgar Bones," Peter breathed. The Head of the Unspeakables Office.

"If we are gossiping old biddies, and I'm not saying we are," Sirius said they watched a lot of handshaking taking place, "then I feel it is our duty to discuss which old man in this room right now is wearing the stupidest hat."

There were a few to choose from, but Dumbledore dashed any plans of discussing the matter because he began to speak.

"I would like to thank you all for coming to the first ever meeting of the Order of the Phoenix."

One of the twins spoke up, "That's what we're calling it?"

Dumbledore fixed the man with his gaze over the top of his half-moon spectacles, but there was an affectionate twinkle there. "Yes, that is the chosen name." The Headmaster addressed the room. "We are about to begin, but first, if you require any refreshment, my brother should be able to help you." And then he gestured right at the bartender behind the Marauders.

The four of them turned to stare at the man who had been serving them alcohol for years, shocked to silence. There was something there, in or around the eyes—something familiar, and James wondered how he could have possibly missed it before.

Sirius seemed to be the only one of them who could muster words. "Son of a bitch…."


Author's Note: Um…I take no responsibility for the things that Sirius says. He starts talking and before I know it, I've written like ten pages and he's run away with the entire scene. I might be possessed. The Marauders calling Aberforth Dumbledore "Fergus" is an old joke that I resurrected from chapter 8 of BT&T. I just meant to toss it in there once, but then Sirius happened…and you know the rest.

There are a few reasons why the Order meeting did not include everyone that Harry saw in Moody's photograph (OotP), and why there were a couple of people that weren't in the photo at all. I don't want to go into it yet, because it could get spoilery, but I just wanted you guys to know that the inconsistency was done on purpose, and it's not going to be a departure from canon at all. I'm staying on script—I promise! In a later author's note I will explain more.

So, Snape's becoming a baller, right? Obviously, this chapter required research into Veritaserum, its effects and limitations. Rowling's interviews and the Harry Potter Wiki have a lot to say about it, but I tried to work the relevant details into Snape's POV. If you still have questions, feel free to do your own research or you can review/PM me—I always answer inquiries.

Hope you liked the chapter guys. Please review!