- Chapter 9: Two Faces -

Obviously, life on the playground post-Severus Snape became problematic for my eight- and recently-nine-year-old self. Noah was kind about it and kept quiet, though winkingly so - but I wasn't so lucky with the other children. Edwin teased me mercilessly, proclaiming to the entire football crowd - every day, every single time I played - that Severus Snape and I had been seen sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love! Then comes marriage! Then comes Lily with the baby carriage!

"You don't even know where babies come from," I shrieked one damp spring day as Edwin laughingly stole the football from me and began dribbling it down the field. "You still think babies come from the stork! Sodding git!"

"Nope, babies come from your mum's box! And yours too!" he cackled, stumbling over the ball as I lunged at him and shoved as hard as I could, missing him and throwing myself headlong into a pile of half-melted snow. "Lily's going to squeeze little Snape babies out of her box! Hoo-hooo!"

"Edwin - O'Neill!" I yelled, slipping in the mud as I clambered to my feet, "You stop talking about me and Snape like that!"

Still laughing, Edwin ran the ball down to the goal and, with a hoot, kicked it clear over the goalie's head. The other boys on the field sniggered as I wiped my hands on my jeans and stormed off to the swing set.

I hardly noticed the figure on the swing at the far end of the set until it stood up and moved to the swing beside mine. Jolted, I looked up; it was Severus Snape.

"Oh God, it's you," I groaned.

"I'm not going to do anything," he protested.

"You've already caused me enough trouble and you hardly even talked to me."

Snape flinched as if I'd hit him and looked away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Well, I know you didn't," I said awkwardly. I found his contrition worryingly disarming. "I mean, just don't - make them think we're going to get married or anything."

The mat of overgrown hair hiding most of Snape's face twitched - maybe he had laughed? "Don't worry," he said, and his voice carried a note of what I would later come to recognize as mirthless irony, "I'm not interested in making your life miserable."

"Thanks." I rose off the swing and turned to leave.

"Hey," he said. I paused. Cheeks reddening, he continued in a rush. "You can at least call me by my first name. You seem nice."

I stared at him, taken aback. "Really?"

Severus nodded vigorously, cheeks redder than ever. From across the field I heard Edwin hoot in our direction again, making obscene gestures and shouting something about how I was going to let Severus see my knockers.

I picked up a dirt clod and flung it in Edwin's general direction. It landed about six feet away from me. "I don't have knockers yet, you bloody berk!"

"Ignore him."

Startled, I turned. Severus had been watching me with great intensity, but when I met his gaze, he looked away. "Just ignore him," he said again, this time with less relish. "He's not worth your time."

"Oh, what are you going on about? He's my friend."

"Doesn't seem like it. All he ever does is go around having a good laugh at you. And you put up with it! How can you not see that?"

"I just - he's a stupid berk is all," I blushed. I ground my toe into a bit of loose dirt. "We call each other names all the time. It doesn't mean anything."

"But he always does it first. You never start it. He picks on you and you - you just take the bait."

"Why do you care so much?" I demanded. "This isn't any of your business!"

"I - I just think you're too good for him. Besides, you're - " Severus stopped. He looked abashed.

"I'm what?"

"You're just not like the rest of them," Severus finished, clutching the chains of his swing painfully in front of him. "But you don't understand that now. You think you're like all these other dunderheads."

He looked so utterly convinced of this - and so shrinkingly pathetic, wobbling like that on the dirty chain-linked swing - that I almost wanted to give him a pat on the shoulder. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"Someday you'll see," he said fervently. "You'd just - you'd just never believe me if I told you now."

I blinked. The chains of his swing were twirling slowly, the toes of his shoes dragging in the grass. "Told me what?" I asked finally.

Digging his foot into the ground, Severus stopped twirling and gave me an expression I could not decipher. Then he looked away. "You have special powers. I can tell."

There was a long pause. Then I laughed, a high, sudden, girlish sound. I wasn't sure if I was amused or plain disgusted. "That's what you wanted to tell me?"

Severus stared at me in confusion. "So you know?"

"No wonder people think you're strange."

Now he practically recoiled. "As if I cared what they thought!"

"Nobody said anything about caring," I shrugged. "I don't care what they think either."

Suddenly Severus's expression brightened. "You don't?"

"No way," I lied. "Why should I?"

And that was the first time - one of the very, very rare times - that I heard Severus Snape laugh. It was a quiet sound that shook him by the shoulders and pulled his mouth into the most uncontrolled smile I'd ever seen; and once he'd started laughing, I learned, it was hard for him to stop. I assumed this was because he laughed so rarely that, when he did, those pressurized kernels of joy at the pit of his stomach just came bursting out of him, and that joy was one of the few emotions he'd never had much occasion to practice controlling. And now, with him seeming almost to be having a seizure because of it, I felt as if I'd been granted some strange, rare honor - I had made this sad, spiteful little boy not only smile, but laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" I asked after a long pause. I giggled nervously. "You look like you're going mental."

That only set him off again. He clutched the chains of his swing, his slight shoulders trembling, and twirled again - side-to-side, chains creaking. "Sorry," he said at last, with great effort. "I'm sorry. This isn't funny." He took a deep breath. The grin was still plastered across his face, partially hidden by his overgrown black hair. Finally he controlled himself and looked at me seriously. "I was just - glad you didn't care."

A quiet sense of determination settled over me now, and I sat down on the swing beside him. "You need to have more fun in your life, Severus," I said. Then, with a kick and a pump, I launched my swing into the air. "See if you can get higher than me!"

x.x.x.x.x.x

The next morning dawned gray and rainy. I had tucked James into my bed shortly after we'd finished in the shower, and seeing that he was still unsteady on his feet and somewhat nauseated, I had placed a bucket beside the bed and stayed up, typewriter before me, to keep an eye on him. To my relief, he fell asleep and stayed asleep from thereon out, so after writing for two hours I got into bed beside him and allowed myself to fall into a dreamless sleep.

When he woke up, however, he was in a foul mood.

"Why are the curtains open?" he groaned, shoving his head under his pillow. He pulled at the covers, yanking them off me. "And why the bloody fuck is it so bright in here?"

"It's seven in the morning, James, why did you think?" I shivered, yanking the covers back. "And quit hogging the blankets, it's freezing in here!"

"I'm not hogging the blankets." He peered over the edge of the bed. "Wait, what's the typewriter doing there? Were you up late?"

"Not really. I just stayed up a few hours to keep an eye on you. I did some writing while I was at it."

James sighed. "I was fine. You should have gone to sleep."

"You were kind of pale."

"I'm always pale. This is your bed, anyway; why did you leave me alone in it? It's like you thought I was just going to keep you up all night."

"Oh come on. You've had worse."

James snorted. He massaged his temples. "True. I don't have dicks drawn all over my face. At least, I don't think so." He raked a hand through his hair and squinted at me; then he slid back under the covers and rested his face in my lap. "What did you end up writing?"

"Possibly an obituary," I lied.

"Whose?"

"Orion Silverman."

"Oh yeah. I knew that guy. Sort of."

I paused. "He's dead, James."

James was silent for a moment. Then he groaned. "Fuck. Okay. That's my hangover, starting right now."

"You should get some more sleep," I said, rubbing gently at his scalp. "Take it easy and I'll get you some water."

"Can you stop doing that? It's making my head hurt."

I took my hands out of his hair. Blowing out a breath, James sat up, looking paler than he had a moment earlier. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Orion is actually Aidan Silverman's older brother."

"Aidan…wait, who?"

"New Chaser on the Quidditch team last year. Fourth year now. Orion introduced the kid to me at King's Cross beginning of our, uh. Our seventh year. When I captained."

Tentatively I reached out and touched James's shoulder. He was tense and breathing sharply through his nose. "I liked Aidan. Got to know him a bit. Kid had spunk," he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "I'll be right back." He dashed into the bathroom. There was a long pause, followed by the sound of the toilet flushing, and then the faucet; then spitting, and a toothbrush being crushed against the inside of a cheek. Then silence.

A few minutes later James shuffled back into the bedroom, raking a hand through his hair so that it stood up. His lips were pale; he collapsed onto the bed beside me. "I swear to God I have food poisoning."

"Not just sick from the alcohol?"

"I don't know. Probably. Fuck it. Anyway, I'm going to Headquarters before I start crying."

Gently, I pushed him back down and pulled the covers around him. His face was contorted.

"You don't have to be there until half-past eight," I said, stroking his cheek. "Try to relax, okay? Sleep another half hour. I'll make you some tea and we can try to head off this hangover before you have go to and duel with Moody. I'll join you after you have an hour or so to practice."

James rolled over and buried his face in my pillow.

"You alright?" I said softly.

"I'm fine."

I bent down and kissed the back of his neck. "I'll go get that tea started," I whispered. "Take it easy."

When James didn't answer, I knew I had judged him correctly - he wanted to be alone. I took my cue and quietly left the room. Knowing he'd be out in ten or fifteen minutes, I busied myself with filling the teakettle and - for the first time in a while - making breakfast: Two eggs, one for James and one for me.

x.x.x.x.x.x

James looked like an unmade bed that morning, shirt untucked, jeans wrinkled, hair standing up in four different directions, eyes bloodshot and sporting the darkest circles I'd seen on him in years. He forced down his egg and toast at my coaxing, drank about a liter of tea, and spent the rest of the morning either peeing or, much to my puzzlement, attempting to read The Daily Prophet as though it would convince him he didn't have a raging headache. Sensing that he didn't want to talk, I occupied myself with puttering about the kitchen while he sat with his forehead in his palm, staring unseeingly at the paper.

"You should probably interview Aidan," he said at last. His voice was hoarse. "He's still at Hogwarts. You'd have to go there to see him. So you could speak to Dumbledore while you were there."

I looked up from the stain I was scrubbing off the counter. "My first thought was to interview his parents."

"No. I mean - whatever. You could." He glanced wearily at the clock and stood up. "I'd better go."

"James," I sighed. I went to him and gently straightened his collar. "You knew Aidan that well?"

James gave me a strange look. "You're acting like I was having a love affair with him."

"You're just obviously upset. It's setting off my woman's intuition."

"I'm hung over. And of course I'm upset. I care about the Quidditch team."

"I know." And then, before I realized what I was saying: "Don't be next, please."

"Oh, Lily." He kissed me and pulled me close so I couldn't see his face. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like how?"

"Like you do," James replied softly. He kissed me again, still not meeting my gaze. "I'll see you at Headquarters in a couple of hours. And I'll make sure to kill Moody if he throws you up against the wall this time."

And then he was out the door, it seemed, as suddenly as he had ever come in, taking the warmth of my flat out into the rain with him and leaving me with nothing but the muffled click of the lock.

Oh, how poignantly you ache, sneered a voice in my head. Go and write another obituary. Go and write another eulogy. Go sell it and collect your goddamn fucking paycheck.

Suddenly I was reeling from rage and disgust, knees weak, fingers and toes electrified - and with a yell I slammed my fist into the door. Crushing, white-hot pain shot up my arm and through my shoulder, and I stumbled back, skidding on the tile floor. I wondered briefly if I'd fall and fracture my skull because the soles of my overly-soft, overly-worn housewife's slippers weren't suited anymore even to domestic life. My fist was pulsating. A tiny rivulet of blood had found its way out from under the skin.

Focused by the pain, I walked back into my bedroom and yanked open the bottom drawer of my desk. Snape's coins clinked and rattled as I plucked them out, one - gold; two - silver; three - bronze, and then went silent as I clenched my bleeding fist around them. I tore off my pajamas with my free hand and threw on jeans, boots, and a tank-top. I snatched my wand and cloak and - just before Disapparating - turned the silver coin over five times.

x.x.x.x.x.x

They are on to you. Expect a trap.

The words seared white before the coin vaporized in my palm, burning as it left me nearly blinded with vertigo. I had almost Apparated into a solid wall. Stumbling, I clutched the windowsill of the small alcove we used as an alternate entrance point to Headquarters and held it until the room stopped spinning.

They're on to me, I thought. About what? And why the hell would Snape of all people be telling me something like that, if it weren't a joke or part of the trap itself?

A ruse? There was no way. Severus Snape did not pull pranks. If he wanted to hurt me, he would do it more earnestly. Therefore he was either trying to lure me into some Death Eater trap. - Or - he's not actually a Death Eater, and I've been basically hallucinating for the past couple of years?

It was obvious that he knew I was writing obituaries based on interviews with the bereaved - if for no other reason than nothing else I'd done in the recent past had drawn any kind of notice whatsoever. - Or so I hoped. I wracked my memory. What had I been doing in the recent past?

- Sitting in the train station in a multiplicity of disguises. Bitching about the meaninglessness of my life in poetical form. Shuffling envelopes in the mail room. Staying up all night with a mechanical typewriter.

Someone had probably bugged the home of one of the people I had interviewed, I realized with horror; after all, it would have been too easy not to. How many unregistered Animagi were hiding amongst the Death Eaters? How many innocuous pieces of furniture, paintings, mirrors, or lace doilies had been turned into spying devices and hidden within plain sight? How could I have been stupid enough not to realize that if the Death Eaters could find one member of the family, then surely they could find the others?

Who is Cygna Mallard? My hands were shaking. Who on the inside is an informer?

Breathing erratically, I made my way into the breakfast room, head high and shoulders back to hide my fear.

"All right, Lily?"

I almost fell over. I had nearly walked into Alice Pearce. She was standing in the entrance to the breakfast room with a cup of tea in her hand. A whiff of steam told me it was Earl Grey. My nerves tingled.

"How's it going, Alice," I said, as evenly as I could.

"Fine. No Dementors this morning. What's got you? You have a mad look in your eye."

"I'm that obvious, am I?"

Alice raised an eyebrow, and then took a very measured sip of tea. For a moment the corner of her lip quirked upward in an almost imperceptible smile. Her eyes softened the tiniest bit. "You've also told me before to stop with the big-sister crap. On pain of being punched in the face."

My shoulders loosened, but my stomach didn't. It took a moment for me to realize what she meant. "If you were an informer, hearing you say that would only worry me more."

She continued to look at me measuredly. "But at least it tells you I'm me and not an impostor."

I shuddered.

"Lily, what's wrong?" Alice asked in a low voice. "What happened?"

I glanced around the room to make sure no one was listening. Then I dropped my voice to a whisper. "Snape gave me a coin with a message on it. I - need your opinion."

Alice's eyes hardened. "What did it say?"

"'They are on to you. Expect a trap.' - Is he fucking with my head? Because I can't bloody tell."

"When did he give it to you?"

"I sold him a cup of espresso while I was on shift with the recruits. He paid and shoved the thing at me. Then he got in my face and told me to trust him."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Don't trust him. Prepare for the worst and then make him believe you trust him. Then he'll screw up and you'll find out what he's really up to."

Her words felt like a knife being twisted in the small of my back. "So you think he's trying to hurt me?"

"No. He wants to fuck you and take you back before you marry James. Which is fine because he'll fail. What's dangerous is the fact that he's in the Dark Lord's circle. I've been keeping tabs on him. He has the Dark Mark."

I recoiled as if I'd been struck.

"Oh, come on," Alice said disgustedly. "Don't give me that. You knew."

"No," I shot back. "I suspected. I didn't know. I never bothered to confirm. I haven't spoken to him in over a year."

"You still care about him and that's going to be your biggest problem. I'll tell you that straight off. He is fucking with your head, Lily. I don't think you'd have the heart to kill him if you had to."

"Who said anything about me killing anyone? You're the one whose job that is!"

Now Alice was the one to recoil. "That's not the point."

"Whatever," I said harshly. "So you think Snape is going to give me trouble. Okay. Help your friend. What do you think he's going to do?"

Alice set her jaw for a moment, her lips pressed tightly together. Then she drew a breath and took an even sip of tea. "He hasn't established his loyalty yet. Voldemort doesn't take him seriously. So if he's serious about being a Death Eater, he'll do anything to get in Voldemort's good books. But don't ask me what he's plotting. I don't know."

"What, no suspicions?" I asked, a touch snidely.

"Listen, if you're still hung up on Snape, I suggest you work it out, but don't drop it all on my head," Alice said, the color rising in her cheeks again. "Like I said, I don't know what he's planning. Just use your head. He's a Death Eater. He still has a boner for you. He also has some serious Mummy and Daddy issues. Don't touch him with a ten-foot pole. That's all I can tell you."

That stung. I looked away. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She leaned wearily against the wall. "What brought this on, anyway?"

"I - " I paused. "I don't know. He just gave me the coins. I guess I assumed it was related to what I've been, you know, doing."

Alice's brow furrowed. "Why, whose obituary are you writing now? How could Snape possibly know, and why would he care?"

I looked down and shuffled my feet a bit. "The Muggle brother of a fourteen-year-old kid who plays on the Gryffindor Quidditch team," I said in a low voice, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "I think - "

"What's the name of the person who died?"

"Orion Silverman."

Alice's body went rigid. "Ah. Yes. Frank was on that case a couple of days ago. The Death Eaters have been killing Muggles who get friendly with Wizarding types. Silverman was just one of a load of them. I want to say you should stick to interviewing his brother, because the Death Eaters are still after his parents. You don't want to get in the middle of that. At least his brother is protected at Hogwarts."

"Which Death Eaters are after the parents?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Alice licked her lips. "Dolohov. And one we haven't identified yet. We think they just like torturing Orion's parents. They haven't really made a move to kill them, at least not that we saw when we got to the murder scene. We have the parents under a load of protective spells right now anyway."

"But they still killed Orion."

"Frank says it was an accident, sort of," Alice said, her mouth curling into a mirthless sneer. "Apparently the Killing Curse was directed him, not at Orion. Orion just happened to jump in the way at the wrong time. The story goes that he was running after Dolohov with a chair, trying to hit him. Dolohov and Frank were dueling. Orion got underfoot."

I blew out a breath.

"I hate it when people do stupid things like that and die," Alice said flatly.

A strange twisting sensation was forming in my throat. "Do they do it often?"

"All the bloody time. I can't stand it."

"If you're getting down on heroism, you're one to talk, honestly."

"I'm comfortable with my hypocrisy. And Lily," she added, giving me deathly serious look, "don't go looking for Orion's parents. Do not be that stupid person. Don't be like me."

x.x.x.x.x.x

The first thing I felt upon pushing open the door to Moody's dueling lesson was a blast of warm, sweaty air. The second thing was the doorknob being abruptly pulled from my hand. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Welcome, Lily," he said, gesturing for me to enter the room. Hesitantly I stepped inside.

"Incarcerous!" someone shrieked; I nearly jumped. Glancing around wildly for the source, I was greeted by a scene I had not been prepared for: There were at least a dozen people darting about the room, all of them stripped down to t-shirts, shorts, and socks, ducking and weaving about each other as spells flew in every direction, thudding with finality into the enchanted floor. Huge mirrors levitated along the lengths of all four walls, reflecting a dizzying infinity of explosions and whirling bodies. I gawped.

"We're practicing," Kingsley stated with a note of amusement in his voice. "I'll take a wild guess. You've never done anything like this before."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words never left my throat. At the far end of the room, dueling fiercely with a shirtless Sirius Black, was James - also quite brazenly shirtless. Sirius was a fluid blur, his movements oblique and dangerous, his mouth twisted with something that looked like laughter - but James seemed completely unruffled, striking with his wand hand squarely in front of him, purposeful, effortless, arrogant. His every step and dodge was perfectly timed. Quite contrary to the way he had looked this morning, he seemed to be in his element.

"Yeah, Sirius is flashy," Kingsley said, snapping me out of my trance. "The only reason he can pull that off is because he's so bloody athletic. I keep telling him to quit with all the stupid spinning and jumping."

"I wasn't looking at him," I murmured.

"Oh, right. Of course not." Kingsley smirked and leaned casually against the wall. "Does that look like the James you know?"

"Not really - " But then I stopped, as James had just sucker-punched Sirius with a hex I hadn't seen him use since our Fifth Year; and the spell would have landed, too, if Sirius had not somersaulted out of the way and sent a fountain of blue sparks flying in James's direction. Bouncing back onto his feet, Sirius said something and James burst out laughing.

"Actually, yeah," I amended, watching as he and Sirius slapped hands before raising their wands again. "That's him."

Kingsley made a noncommittal noise. "James fights like an arsehole, a little." He rubbed his chin. "But anyway, let's get you started. You're going to want to take your shoes off."

My stomach twisted a little, and I did as I was told; I gripped my triceps and felt diminished and out of place. James and Sirius were beautiful, and I was torn between wanting to fuck them both and loathing myself for so being so totally clumsy and weak by comparison. There were so many beautiful boys here, all with their shirts clinging to their broad shoulders and muscled chests, bare ankles and sinewy calves moving with crude masculine grace. I was one of the few women in the room - and, looking at myself in the endless tunnels of mirrors, I saw that I was the only one who had not dressed for the occasion.

A lace bra, I thought hopelessly. I could have worn a sports bra. But today, of all days, I had to pick the lace one. The seams and color were faintly visible beneath the thin fabric of my top, which was peeking through the opening of my cloak. I felt like an overdressed stripper.

"If you're squeamish about getting sweaty, you're in the wrong place," Kingsley said. He was giving me a funny look.

"Oh no," I replied dryly. I yanked off my cloak, wadded it up, and tossed it onto a floating shelf next to my boots. One of the young men in the room turned and stared at me for a moment; I drew my wand. "Not at all."

"Good. Come with me."

"So how long have you guys been doing this?" I asked as Kingsley led me toward the small cluster of female duelers in the corner. "Because if you've been training people like this all along without letting any of those young kids on sentry duty hear about it, you're tyrants."

"We've been doing this for a week," Kingsley replied coolly. "The Death Eaters are getting stronger and we're stretched too thin. Everyone who can fight is going to fight now."

"So you're basically conceding that having recent Hogwarts graduates police the train station and Gringotts vaults was useless, but we could afford that waste until now."

Kingsley didn't seem perturbed by that. "I wouldn't call it a waste." Then he raised his voice. "Marlene McKinnon! I've got a new partner for you."

A pink-cheeked, shorts-clad Marlene lowered her wand and looked up curiously; with a little shock down my spine I realized she was wearing the same Chudley Cannons t-shirt she had often slept in when we shared a dormitory at Hogwarts. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a high ponytail that bobbed each time she turned her head. She had been dueling with a young blonde witch I vaguely remembered as a Hufflepuff who had graduated one year behind us. "What's up, Kingsley?"

"You know Lily, right?" Kingsley asked, lightly pushing me forward. "I want you to practice with her for a bit."

"Lily?" Marlene squealed, jumping forward and throwing her arms around my neck. "Bloody hell, where have you been? I haven't seen you in ages!"

"I've been around," I said faintly. Strands of Marlene's ponytail were stuck to my mouth.

She stepped back and gave me a look of wonderment. "Blimey. You're not ready for this, are you?"

Kingsley cleared his throat. "Focus on the step work, Marlene; I'm going to have her go with one of the boys later. If you have questions, come and find me." Then he gestured toward the young blonde witch. "Come with me, I'll get you paired up with another group of girls." As they turned, I heard him add, "You've improved a lot over the past few days. I don't know why more girls don't show up to these things."

"So what's been happening, Lily?" Marlene asked. She looked mystified by my very presence. "I sent you a couple of owls, but you never replied."

"Wait, really?" I was completely taken aback. Marlene and I had been friends at Hogwarts, but I'd always been much closer to Alice. "I had no idea! I must not have gotten them; I'd have answered them!"

"That's bloody weird," Marlene said. She raised her wand and took up a dueling stance. "But I guess we should catch up later. Practice ends in less than two hours."

Hesitantly I mimicked Marlene's stance and raised my wand. "Okay then. What do we do?"

x.x.x.x.x.x

We spent the next hour together, with Marlene patiently instructing me on how to measure my distance and "feel out" my opponent. "It's not a matter of consciously knowing every spell you're going to cast," she explained. "It's about reflexes, or at least that's what Kingsley told me. You think of your wand as an extension of your brain. You're supposed to be able to just imagine what you want to do to your opponent without analyzing it too much."

"How do you remember all those bloody spells?" I asked, my mouth dry. I was bouncing lightly, as Marlene had told me to do, so that I could "more easily jump out of the way" if a curse I couldn't block came flying at me. "Is that supposed to be reflex too?"

"Well, yeah. Don't worry though, it's hard. Everyone has trouble with it at first. I still do." Then she hit me with a Stunning Charm.

My biggest problem, I soon realized, was not that I didn't know which spells to cast - it was that I could never seem to cast them quickly enough. Dueling with Marlene in that loud, chaotic, sweaty-smelling room, and bumping constantly into the other duelers - I could not seem to calm down long enough to cast any spells at all.

"You're doing fine, Lily," Marlene said kindly, which only embarrassed me more. "Everyone sucks at first. We're all here to get better."

That was when Remus Lupin jogged over to us and tapped me on the shoulder. "Ready to go, Lily?"

I gave Marlene a despairing look. "You're fine," she nodded. "Just forget where you are."

I took a deep breath and nodded to Remus. He gave me a light pat on the back and led me to an open spot near the door.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll be gentle."

My eyes snapped up to his face. He wore an expression of patience, with his light brown hair falling easily about his temples; his eyes were calm and unreadable. Suddenly my fingertips tingled. "You're about to treat me like a baby, aren't you? You expect me to be afraid of you."

Surprise flickered across Remus's face for a split second, but then he straightened up a bit, rolling his shoulders back with an air of cockiness. "You should be," he said, very seriously. "I'm the big bad wolf."

Suddenly the room seemed to have gone quiet. I set my jaw. "Well, let's get on with it, then."

x.x.x.x.x.x

Dueling with Remus was quite different from dueling with Marlene. It was obvious that he sensed my nervousness, but unlike Marlene, he completely ignored it. He simply cast spells and gave me a moment to respond to them before casting another. He evaded my counterattacks with apparent ease but occasionally let me land one of my own.

"That was good," he nodded after I had hit him with a Stunning Spell, the enchanted floor glowing slightly where he had fallen. He stood and brushed himself off. "Now, why do you think that worked?"

Because you gave it to me? I thought dryly. "I guess because I Stunned you while you were still recovering from the last spell you threw at me?"

"Exactly. I'd just finished a hex, which you ducked. I didn't anticipate you ducking it. You saw that and Stunned me before I could reset. That's the kind of timing you want."

I looked down at my feet. "Okay. Thanks."

"Sure. Let's go again."

We practiced for a good half an hour, and toward the end Remus began striking more forcefully, knocking me to the floor a couple of times. "Sorry about that," he said, holding out his hand after hitting me particularly hard. "Take it as a compliment."

Angry, I cut him with a Slashing Curse from where I lay, tearing his shirt open as he leapt out of the way; with a yell I scrambled to my feet and whipped my wand across his face, sending up a rope of flames - but Remus countered once again, and the flames fell and splashed harmlessly onto the floor, soaking my feet with cool, clear water.

That was the moment the door banged open. The lights flickered and the room fell quiet; all of the duelers had paused and were looking up with curiosity. Alastor Moody was standing in the doorway.

"What, you're all acting like you've never seen me before," he barked. "Get back to work, and switch partners for Merlin's sake!"

There was a short silence, but then the noise began to pick up again. Remus wiped a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead. "You'll be good at this with more practice," he said, giving my shoulder a light squeeze. "You're kind of jumpy, though. Try to relax more."

My hands were shaking. "And how am I supposed to relax when people are attacking me?"

"Just be loose. Stop thinking so hard." He took up his dueling stance again. "Shall we?"

Swallowing hard, I raised my wand, keeping my eyes trained on Remus.

"Lupin," came a rough voice. Moody was limping towards us, followed closely by a flushed and sweaty James. "I want a word with the lovely lady, if you please."

Remus raised an eyebrow. He stuck his wand back in his pocket. "Well, Lily," he said. "I guess that means I'm going to scram."

"Thanks for your help."

Remus merely saluted as he turned and strode away, yanking his torn shirt over his head as he went.

"All right, Evans," Moody said, taking Remus's spot before me. James was standing impassively beside him, his t-shirt thrown over his shoulder. He was still clutching his wand in one hand. "Potter wanted you to hear what I had to tell him, so here I am. And you can put your wand down," he added, glancing down at my trembling hand.

Slowly, I did as I was told.

"I'm sending Potter on his first mission with some of the senior Aurors," Moody said after a moment, giving James a pointed nod. "He's ready."

"And it takes you a year or more to train new Aurors," I replied. My voice came out higher than I'd expected. "Nice. I think I really see where you're coming from, sir."

"This is part of the training."

What? I looked disbelievingly from Moody to James, who now had the expression of a deer in the headlights. "Really, James?"

"Wait, hold up," James spluttered. "Since when am I an Auror? You said I was going for the field experience, and then I'd get to go independent!"

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, it's all the same except for the paperwork."

"What the bloody fuck are you even talking about?" I demanded.

Moody sighed and gestured for James and myself to come closer. When we were all huddled within arm's reach of one another, Moody said, "Potter's joining our group of unregistered fighters. The Ministry of Magic has no control over them and doesn't know who they are. They're our guerilla branch. Freedom fighters."

"Freedom fighters," I repeated incredulously. "You had him mopping up dead people in Gringotts and now, a month later, he's an unregistered Auror."

"Well, the kid's got talent! What do you want, Evans?"

"Stop," James cut in, taking my hand. Moody huffed. "You said you wanted to talk to Lily too."

Moody's magical eye flicked down to my wand hand. "I was just going to tell you not to try to follow Potter into the field. We've got a lot of work to do, Evans."

My cheeks grew hot; without realizing it I began to bare my teeth, fist tightening about my wand. James ran his fingers gently down my back. "Shh, Lily, it's okay," he murmured. I ignored him, sneering at Moody. "What, to prove to me how weak I am?"

He gave a crude laugh. "That would be the easy part, kid. No, actually what I meant is that we have different plans for you. Your place is more in the home, so to speak."

"Yeah. Pregnant, barefoot, and chained to the stove, right?"

Now Moody's face broke into a toothy smile. "No. I want you to be a spy."

Dead silence. James choked.

"Though if you were pregnant, it would be a good cover," Moody added as an afterthought.

James's jaw dropped. "Did you really just say that?"

But Moody was unperturbed. He plowed on: "You've been writing all those cute little obituaries, Evans. Obviously that puts you in an interesting position. You get to interview all these bereaved people. Now, we are constantly trying to figure out which Death Eaters killed whom, but we don't have a whole hell of a lot of resources or time. We peg about sixty-five percent of them and then we bottom out. The Death Eaters know who a lot of our detectives are and we need some new ones to fill out the ranks."

James and I both stared at him.

"Y'see," Moody went on, his magical eye roving from my head to my toes, "you're a pretty, innocent-looking young witch. You don't look like you could hurt a fly. And you're always so earnest. No one would ever suspect you. That's why I want you to keep interviewing all those upset people. You could recover so much information about the killings that the Ministry isn't nimble enough to get without causing a stir. You could get away with anything."

"How does that make me a spy?" I said faintly.

Moody smiled. He sniffed; then his eye rolled toward the door, fixating on it. "If you can't figure that one out, you don't deserve the job. Now, if you'll excuse me - " He whipped his cloak around and made for the door. "I'll have you killing flies in no time, Evans." Then, with one foot already in the hallway, he cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, "ALL RIGHT! EVERYONE WRAP IT UP!"

And with that he was gone.

x.x.x.x.x.x

"A spy. He wants me to be a fucking spy." I raked my hands through my soaked hair, pulling it. I couldn't stop pacing; the sidewalk was gritty and sloshing with dirty water, as a hissing rain had begun falling the moment James and I had stepped outside. I ground my foot against the base of the streetlamp James was leaning against. "Whose idea was that? His? Is he off his bloody rocker?"

"I don't know. I thought it was his until I realized how weird that would be."

"I just - bloody hell, bloody buggering fuck!" I wrung my hands. "A spy. I am not ready for this. I can't even duel!"

"Hey, hey, let's not get all bent out of shape here," James said, grabbing my elbow. "You're fine. I saw you with Remus. You were fine."

"No I wasn't! He could have killed me, and he wasn't even trying!"

"It was your first day," James said, running his palms soothingly up and down my arms. "Everyone sucks on their first day. You were better than almost every other beginner I've seen."

"Not you," I replied in a strangled voice. "Not anyone else who's going to have to fight - "

"Shh, shh, Lily." James reached up and pushed my sodden hair out of my eyes. "Calm down. We've been dueling longer than you have. Moody's been riding us about it for weeks already."

I couldn't meet his eyes; I stared past him, unseeing, at the street before us that ran off into an indefinite and depthless gray. "And you're going off on a mission soon." I pushed my fingers against my brow for a moment. James responded by pulling me into his arms. "I think my head is going to explode."

"We're going to be a pretty serious power couple, aren't we?" he murmured.

I drew back and looked up at him. An odd little smile was playing on his lips.

"What…you don't think - "

"Moody really pisses me off most days," James said, trailing a finger over my collarbone and hooking it into the neck of my top, right above the valley between my breasts. He rested his forehead against mine and dropped his voice to a whisper. "But the thought of you as a spy is really hot."

"James…"

"We are probably going to die young," he said softly. "So can we not think about that all the time?"

"James," I breathed again.

"I want to fuck you so badly."

My breath hitched in my throat. "Wait." I stepped back and dug in my pockets. Then, having found what I was looking for, I opened my fist.

"Either face says you're on top," James said. His eyes were dark with lust.

I didn't reply. I threw Snape's bronze and gold coins high into the air and watched them fall. With two sharp little pings they landed before me; chest tight, I raised my foot and ground them roughly into the pavement. Then, with sudden violence, I kicked the coins down the storm gutter.

James held out his hand. "Let's get out of here."

"Yeah." My throat constricted. "I'm done."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Author's note: Hey all. Sorry about the extreme lateness of this chapter. Sometimes I'm in the lab until sunrise. Which I hate doing because it turns me into a headache-y, fake-drunk insomniac who loses the ability to drive without clipping dumpsters and curbs, but which I do anyway because I have poorly disguised ambitions of publishing a paper with my name on it.

Anyway, enough of that. Thanks for reading! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. To the anonymous reviewers I can't reply to via PM:

Cathy: I'm pleasantly surprised by your comments about Sirius! I actually have the worst time ever writing him. He's tough! :P Also, UNF? *Scratches head* Does that mean what Urban Dictionary says it means? Because if so, James's poor mother would be scandalized. …Or maybe I'm just seriously old and have no idea what all these new-fangled words mean. Bah humbug.

purplecrayons: Thanks! The writing style is something I've been working on for years, so I'm glad you like it. :)

Also thanks to ddgds and gf for reviewing.

Cheers,

- Silverspinner

P.S. I have a blog! The link is in my profile. Stop by if you like. :)