Disclaimer: we dont own any of this stuff lolz. so like we are kind of criminals. maybe we should go to jail. (That was our brother. We recruited him for this chapter's disclaimer and apparently this is what we get.)
Chapter Nine
Guiding Star
The day following the concert was nothing short of completely bizarre. Between a throbbing left temple and unshakable fatigue, Lily couldn't even be certain she was awake until she went to sleep again that night. The others didn't fare much better; Peter was in the bathroom for hours, Sirius winced at small noises, and Petunia only made it halfway down the stairs before sinking down and spending the rest of the day comatose on the landing. Nobody had an appetite for breakfast—had Lily even been willing to cook it—and activity, for the most part, was limited to dragging one's feet to the kitchen for water, exchanging terse conversation with anybody one happened to collide with, and shooting Remus murderous looks when he said things like "Football, anybody?" and "We could use some light in here."
And then there was James.
Lily almost wished she couldn't remember the three-A.M. serenade, but she did. Vaguely. Fragments of James' song floated through her memory like infuriating, slippery little ghosts, and she could recall feeling immensely confused as she had fallen asleep. But she couldn't be sure if she was remembering correctly—and worse still, she had no way of knowing if James remembered at all. This made it ridiculously awkward whenever they happened to cross paths.
"Oh, sorry," James had said, around midday, after they'd mistakenly brushed arms for the sixth time in the kitchen doorway.
"It's okay."
"Any better?"
"Nope, still looking for a hole to crawl into."
He laughed politely at her dismal wisecrack. "Crazy night, huh?"
"Yeah."
There was a spell of dubious eye contact that was intensely uncomfortable all around.
"My head's a mess from all that music," James then said rather slowly. Was he hinting at something? Lily didn't have the energy to decode his meaning.
"Yeah," she said instead. It was the truth after all. "...So's mine."
James caught her eye for half a moment, and the two shared a very brief glance that was nothing but frustrating in its ambiguity.
"Well, anyway, I don't want to interrupt your search for a hole..." He frowned, and squinted, "...to climb into. God, that sounded better in my head, sorry."
Lily, too, squinted, although it was more of a defence mechanism against the glare that was coming through the gauzy curtains. "Yeah, thanks," she replied dazedly. "I reckon I'll be shut up in the pantry if you need me."
"Bad luck, I'm pretty sure Sirius has been living in there all day. Something about not having to move every time he needs a 'medicinal tea cake'."
"Sirius?" Remus, who had been passing by, threw in. "Yeah, I went looking for some honey for my tea earlier and he almost combusted when I opened the door. I'm mildly worried about him."
"Oh god." Lily deadpanned. "Guess I'll try the cupboard under the stairs, then. Knowing my luck, Peter's probably got that all staked out."
"Well, you don't know that, though," James said. There was a forced awkwardness to the words, and he immediately looked as though he regretted them.
Lily froze for a second, as the words dragged up a loose memory of lyrics and a soothing tune. What you don't know is that... She looked up intently—that was a hint, wasn't it?—but James was already looking past her with a blank expression.
It was all in her head. James was hungover and not paying attention to what he was saying, and she was looking pathetically for meaning where there was none.
"I guess I don't," she told him stupidly. "Er, see you later."
With that, she had brushed past him and into the hallway, entirely missing the way his eyes followed her all the way out.
And the day continued in this awkward, aggravating manner. Every time they were forced to exchange pleasantries, it seemed like he was dropping tiny clues. Lily made a few subtle references for her part, but these only caused James to go rigid, eye her suspiciously, then mumble an excuse and wander off shaking his head. In the end, Lily gave up entirely and locked herself in Bob's office for the remainder of the daylight hours.
When she emerged around suppertime, Petunia had finally conquered the last of the stairs and was milling about the living area, trying to clean things up from last night. She wasn't making much progress, mostly due to the fact that she was working on her knees and had to curl up in a ball every metre or so.
Lily, who was slightly better for wear after indulging in a bag of cheesy puffs she'd found in Bob's closet (silently thanking him for this work of clandestine genius) decided to help her out. She began to rearrange the furniture, shoving the sofas back into place and dragging odds and ends back to their respective rooms. It was only when she came to retrieve Bob's rolly chair that she noticed how icy the atmosphere had become. She glanced down to find Petunia just sitting there, not even trying anymore, just glaring at Lily with stony eyes and a bratty pout on her face.
"What?" said Lily, who couldn't think what might've sparked this sudden hostility. After all, hadn't they been getting along uncannily well last night?
Petunia said nothing. She jerked her head away from Lily and started plucking tiny blue beads from who-knew-what out of the carpet.
Lily wondered if Petunia blamed her for spiking her Vitamin Water, or at least for the way things had gone down last night. She was probably upset about looking like an out-of-control idiot in front of her future husband, or something along those lines. Not that she needed to be inebriated to accomplish that.
"Do you need water or something?" Lily offered grudgingly.
Once again, Petunia did not respond. She gathered up the beads in one hand and pelted them at the waste bin on the other side of the room, missing fantastically.
"Right then," said Lily, "enjoy your hangover." And she left Petunia to her devices.
However, as the house was small and everyone seemed to be doing a lot of aimless wandering today, it was impossible to avoid either James or her sister, and the frustration of both situations became intolerable. For the sake of distraction, Lily threw herself into making a semi-passable dinner that was mainly composed of bread and canned soup, then tossed it on the table along with an assorted stack of bowls and cutlery.
"Dinner," she called out half-heartedly to anyone who might have been listening.
Unsurprisingly, Remus was the only one who responded to her summons. He shuffled through the doorway, took his seat with a small nod of acknowledgement, and helped himself to some minestrone.
"Sorry it's nothing special," Lily offered dully.
"Lily, it's food. Trust me, I'm not complaining."
They both ate in silence for a moment, utensils clinking against bowls. Lily found herself staring across the table at her company with a critical gaze. Finally, she set her spoon down. "You know, you're far too nice to be a Marauder."
Remus lifted his brows; a half smile pulled at his lips. "I didn't realize there was a strict meanness quotient we had to fill."
"Not meanness necessarily, just..." She paused, trying to figure out the best way to put what she was thinking into words. "I feel as though the fame hasn't gone to your head quite as much as it has the others."
At this, Remus let out a short burst of laughter. "Not really saying much, is it?" he quipped, and Lily spared a laugh. "But, thanks, I suppose. I've got a pretty good support system to keep me grounded, is all."
"Support system," Lily repeated, picking up on something in the way he'd said it. "...of the female variety?"
"Something like that," he admitted.
Lily smirked. "So, not as 'single and ready to mingle' as the magazines would have your fans believe, then?"
"Boy Band 101," Remus told her very seriously. "All members must be perpetually single and 'willing to date a fan' in order to maximize album sales. Trust me, it's one of the key elements of success." The self-parodying nature of his analysis reminded Lily once again of why he was her favourite Marauder. "That and I like to keep my private life away from the mad clutches of the paparazzi as much as I can."
"I don't blame you," she replied earnestly. There were a few seconds of silence, and then her eyes narrowed. "So what's her name, then?"
Remus hesitated only very slightly. "Marley." Some distant trace of a smile graced his eyes when he spoke the next words. "Well, Marlene, but call her that and she'll physically hurt you, guaranteed."
Lily laughed. "She sounds lovely."
"In all honesty though... she is. You'd get on with her."
Lily's smile faded a little. "You must really miss her."
"Yeah." Remus nodded. "I do."
"Well now I'm curious," she said in an attempt to try and dispel some of the gloom. "I don't suppose you have a picture?"
"Honestly, people only carry around photos in those terribly clichéd romance movies," Remus responded. As Lily made to open her mouth, he pulled a small square of worn paper from his pocket and sighed. "And in real life, when they're on the run from murderous Russian billionaires. Here."
Lily reached across the table to take the photograph.
Marley was very pretty. She had blondish hair that fell to her shoulders, a smattering of freckles and a big, blinding smile. In the picture, she had her arms slung around the neck of a Remus who was immeasurably different to the Remus that Lily knew. His eyes were bright, his grin genuine and carefree. A blue sky blazed behind them, white-lit by a flash of sun that caught in their hair and the sand of a tranquil beach.
"Last summer," Remus offered.
"Don't take this the wrong way," Lily handed back the photograph, "but you look so happy."
Remus smiled ruefully as he tucked the thin slip back into his pocket. "That was about two months before I was diagnosed."
"Ah. I'm sorry."
"No worries." He shrugged easily. "It's not just that, anyway; it's Marley. She's just one of those people that it's impossible to be unhappy around."
Lily remembered the bright blue eyes, the sunlit smile; it wasn't hard to believe. "Well, here's hoping you get to see her again soon."
"Yeah. Oy, you'll have to meet her. I'm not joking when I say you'd get on. You two think exactly the same way, I swear. Only she's a bit less... cynical." He caught her eye with a half-smile. "No offense."
Lily let out a wry laugh. "None taken."
Dinner ended up being fairly brief. Remus helped to clear things away as the sun set outside the sliding doors, and by the time the leftovers were all packed up, the backyard had already disappeared into darkness. The glass doors shone with a bright reflection of the kitchen interior.
"I'm headed up to bed, I think," Lily told Remus, ignoring the pathetically early time displayed on the stove clock. "Er, feel free to watch telly or something."
"Sure," he replied. "Sleep well."
Her legs may as well have been made of lead for how they felt as she dragged them up the stairs. When she finally crested the landing, all she wanted was to quickly brush her teeth, throw some pyjamas on, and collapse into bed. The bathroom light was shining, which was strange, but Lily didn't think twice about it until she shuffled in and saw the blonde-haired figure stooped over the sink. Her sister was standing in front of the mirror, hair pulled back under a pink headband as she scrubbed her face vigorously with a washcloth.
Petunia stiffened momentarily, but otherwise made no sign of recognition. She carried on with her cleansing routine, deliberately ignoring her sister as she slipped in behind her. When Lily made to grab her toothbrush, however, Petunia's body shifted minutely as though to block her reach. Wondering what on earth had gotten into her, Lily twisted around until she could grasp the handle, yanking it toward her and giving her sister a what the hell look through the mirror. Petunia finally caught her eye, offering a frosty glare and then turning the water on full blast to rinse her face off.
As she waited for the sink to be free, Lily put a glob of toothpaste onto her toothbrush and stood there impatiently. It took almost a full minute, but Petunia finally spun the taps off and reached for her towel, making a show of patting it all over her cheeks and forehead. With great annoyance, Lily made a break for the sink, but found her path obstructed yet again. Petunia had grabbed her hairbrush and was continuing to monopolize the mirror space.
"Can I just..." Lily motioned for the faucet, irritated.
Petunia ignored her. She pulled the brush through her hair in jerky motions, face tight and jaw clenched.
That was when Lily snapped. She was tired, her head hurt, and all she wanted to do was to bloody brush her teeth and leave. Not sparing a thought to the consequences, she stepped forward, pushed her sister aside, and bodily shoved her way through to the sink.
Surprisingly (or perhaps not, given her sister's current state), Petunia held her ground. She let out a growl and elbowed back, and the skeletal joint was like a knife. Lily gasped in pain. Then, she returned the gesture, sending Petunia staggering sideways into the towel rack.
"Argh!" Petunia reeled, holding a hand to her shoulder. In less than a second, she turned around and used her palm to slap Lily's toothbrush out of her hand. It clattered to the floor, paste-side down.
"What the hell?" Lily burst out hysterically. "What is your problem?"
Unfortunately for all parties, Harry chose this moment to come trotting into the bathroom. He leaped up onto the counter with a loud meow and brushed against Lily's arm, staring at the scene with sharp green eyes.
"Get. Him. Out." Petunia's voice was trembling.
But Lily was incensed. "No!" she said. "Not when you're being such a—"
"GET HIM OUT!"
"Bloody hell, NO!" Lily snatched the cat and held him indignantly. "Why are you so angry at me? What did I do? Seriously, please tell me, because I have no sodding idea."
Petunia inhaled so sharply that her nostrils flared. There was a long beat of silence. "I saw you, alright?" she spoke in a strained whisper.
Lily's mouth sprang open in automatic retaliation, but she stopped cold when she realized she had absolutely no idea what Petunia was on about.
"Saw me?" she barked, more out of confusion than anger, before lowering her voice. "Pray tell, Petunia, what did you see me doing?"
Petunia blinked furiously at the wall, cheeks reddening. "You bloody well know what I'm talking about," she hissed. "You... James... consorting... in your bedroom. He was singing..."
A nasty shock burst through Lily's chest at the revelation. If Petunia had witnessed the episode, that meant it wasn't just a product of her demented dreams. But much worse than that, if Petunia had witnessed it... "I— It was— How do you even know about that?" she demanded.
"Doesn't matter how I know," snapped Petunia. She met Lily's gaze steadfastly. "How could you, Lily? You know how I feel about him."
Lily adjusted the weight of Harry in her arms. She wanted to be angry, to shout at Petunia how petty she was being and now it was none of her bloody business, thank you very much. But she didn't, and she couldn't. She realized right there and then that, by some completely bizarre turn of events, she actually felt guilty. Perhaps reading Lily's mind, Harry squirmed out of her arms and leapt to the floor as if to say: You're on your own with this one.
Petunia was still staring, channelling hatred and hurt across the space between them. Lily sighed.
"Okay, look," she said firmly. "It wasn't even a big deal. For starters, we weren't consorting... I don't even know what that's supposed to mean. I barely even remember what happened—I was asleep, and then he just walked in and— and—"
"Serenaded you with the most beautiful song he's ever written? Yeah, no big deal, Lily."
"He wasn't— God, Petunia, it's not like I asked him to do it anyway!"
"But you liked it, I'll bet." Petunia's voice was very small now. "You'd have to be crazy not to."
Lily was silent, staring off at the ceramic soap dispenser. She hadn't really thought about it until now; she'd been too absorbed with the had-it-really-happened to consider the how-it-made-her-feel. Had she hated it? Well, of course not. But had she liked it? Had it made her fall in love with him? That was the real question. She gritted her teeth with exasperation, unable to form words to express emotions that weren't even coherent themselves.
Petunia read her silence as shame, and tears began to spill from her eyes. "I've seen it, you know. The way he looks at you. The way you look at him. I'm not stupid. I just never thought you would—you know, after everything you said about him before he got here." She sniffed. "I thought you hated them all, Lily."
Strangely, it was precisely those words that cleared Lily's vision for a moment. She saw the sheer helplessness in Petunia's eyes and at last found an answer to her question. The encounter with James... it had made her insides tickle, that was all. There might be something between them, but it wasn't necessarily big enough to make an ordeal out of it. It was possible, she realized, that the confusing array of emotions she felt for James Potter were merely a result of his being so dramatically different from what she had pictured. Of course he was surpassing the bar when she had set it so low in the first place. But that didn't mean she was in love with the bloke. It certainly didn't mean she should steal her sister's happiness and throw it out on the freeway.
Lily pressed her palms to her forehead for a brief moment, took a deep breath, and looked at Petunia. "I did," she said. "Hate them, that is. I still think they're mostly gits, but I guess I was pretty wrong about them."
"We both were," Petunia surprisingly admitted.
"Yeah. About last night though, I just... Of course it was nice—flattering and all—but it wasn't... I don't feel that way about him, alright? He's a better bloke than I expected but that's all. Doesn't mean I'm going to join your stupid Marauderland fan club and definitely doesn't mean I'm out to marry him. And even if I was, you've had dibs on him for what, ten years or something?" She laughed; it didn't feel forced in the slightest, and she felt then that she had convinced not only Petunia, but herself as well.
Petunia also cracked a smile. "So you're saying..."
"Nothing is going to happen between us," Lily said emphatically. "I promise."
While Petunia's tremulous smile grew even wider, Lily noticed Harry standing by the doorway. He was staring at her in a manner that could only be described as sceptical.
Wait a second, that was ridiculous. Her guilt was clearly manifesting itself in very odd ways, she decided, when Harry seemed to shake his head before turning around and walking back out into the hall.
"Lily that's—I'm so relieved—I just—" Petunia was hyperventilating. The tears in her eyes began to spill over again.
"Petunia," Lily said in exasperation, "there's nothing to cry about."
Her sister used her facecloth to wipe away the tear tracks. "I know it's stupid," she said, sniffing. "I wish I didn't like him so much, you know? But... I can't seem to stop." She sniffed again. "Sorry about your toothbrush."
Lily glanced down; she had momentarily forgotten about its fate. "It's alright. Nothing a bit of soap and disinfectant can't fix."
"Ew, no!" Petunia looked aghast. "Here, take this one." She rifled through her side of the cabinet and pulled out a brand new toothbrush, still in the packaging.
"Er, thanks," Lily said, accepting the offering.
They stood there for a few seconds until the moment started to fade out and the inevitable awkwardness began to float in.
"Well, goodnight." Petunia avoided her sister's eyes as she replaced her washcloth on the towel rack.
Lily nodded. "Goodnight."
Standing there on her own beneath the fluorescent lights, she glanced down at the toothbrush in her hand. A strange feeling of unease rose in her stomach as she listened to Petunia's light footsteps travelling down the hallway. Suddenly a bit ill, she tore the packaging off with a moderate amount of effort. Then, after glancing down at the pile of cardboard and plastic in her hand, she crumpled it all up and dropped it into the bin.
Strange noises had become so common in the Evans household that Lily barely took notice of the discord of shuffling, clanging and hushed voices coming from the kitchen when she woke up. In fact, she was so detached from the racket that when she was accosted by Peter on the lower landing, she nearly screamed.
"Bienvenue a Cafe Marauder," he said, offering a bow. "Table for one?" He gestured through the doorway to the kitchen table, where an ugly arrangement of dandelions sat amidst the place settings.
"Umm..." Lily, whose tired brain could not quite process what was going on, made a quizzical expression which Peter seemed to take as an okay. He looped his arm through hers and led her into the sunlit room.
It was like she had entered some parallel universe. The boys had completely taken over the kitchen, which was alive with the smell and sizzle of bacon, the sound of toast popping, and the clang of Remus' spatula against the frying pan. The sandy-haired Marauder was expertly separating a pound of bacon at the stove.
"Lulu! Our first customer of the day!" Sirius called out happily. He strolled over to the stove with a carton of eggs under his arm. "Poached, sunny-side-up, or scrambled?"
"Translation," James said, not looking up from the bag of bread he was opening. "Scrambled, scrambled, or mutilated beyond recognition?"
Lily could not help but smile. "Surprise me," she said as Peter steered her toward the head of the table.
"Milady." He bowed once more and pulled her chair out, then gallantly offered her a pile of tissues she assumed was standing in for a serviette. Lily thanked him with a tiny nod and he scampered off into the kitchen to fetch a pitcher of juice.
Unsure what to do with herself, Lily toyed restlessly with a ring on her index finger and kept a close eye on the Marauders. Sirius met her gaze and smirked.
"You doubt my culinary expertise," he called out over all the sizzling and popping. "I'll have you know I am quite the— Gads!"
He jumped back in alarm as his questionable egg solution hit the frying pan and erupted in a torrent of steam.
Lily itched to jump up from her chair, but Remus stepped in calmly and fiddled with something on the stove. "Might not want to have this turned up all the way, mate," he said. "And gads? What are you, a sixty year old woman?"
"Nah, 'cause he'd be good at cooking then," said James. Sirius narrowed his eyes and, brandishing a spatula like a weapon, shouldered his way back to the stove.
"I'll show you all," he grumbled, prodding at the egg.
As it turned out, Lily's breakfast was surprisingly adequate. When Peter placed it before her with a flourish and a "Bon appetit", she glanced down to see two slices of buttered toast, a generous helping of crispy bacon and a pile of scrambled eggs that was more or less passable as actual food.
"Wow," she said, duly impressed. The Marauders were standing around her eagerly, awaiting the verdict of their efforts. James hung back a bit, and Lily suddenly became aware of lingering awkwardness between them. Apparently, two nights of sleep had still not managed to clear the air. She cleared her throat. "Er... you didn't have to do this, you know."
"We figured it was about time we started pitching in with breakfast," Remus offered with a shrug. "Especially considering you and Petunia did most of the cleaning up yesterday."
"Well... thanks," Lily said, and then stuffed a piece of bacon into her mouth.
She had forgotten how good food tasted when you didn't cook it yourself—or perhaps there was a certain tender, loving care with which only a teenage boy could fry a pound of bacon. Either way, it was delicious.
The boys joined her at the table with their own heaping plates, and at around nine o'clock, Petunia wandered into the kitchen wearing jogging shorts and a tank top, guzzling down water from her hot pink bottle and breathing audibly.
Sirius raised a hand in front of his eyes and grimaced. "You're ruining the taste of my bacon," he griped. "Go be all health-conscious somewhere else, Twiggie."
Petunia swivelled her head mid-sip, swallowed, and set her water bottle down on the countertop. "Mock me all you want, Black," she said. "Your opinion means less than nothing to me."
"Don't mind him, he's just bitter," Remus supplied, meriting him a sharp glare from the Marauder in question. "Being cooped up inside is doing horrors for his marathon training regime."
Sirius sighed. "Shut it, Moony."
"You're a runner?" Lily asked interestedly.
"Was." He poked moodily at his breakfast. "Reckon I'd be lucky to get through a couple of kilometres now, what with the lack of training."
Lily shrugged. "We havegot a treadmill in the basement, you know."
"A Revolving Apparatus of Boredom?" Sirius deadpanned. "Brilliant. And while I'm at it, I'll paddle around in the bathtub for a bit and then say I've gone for a swim."
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning," Petunia remarked in an undertone.
Sirius did not miss her comment. He stiffened as his eyes slid to her bony back. "Actually, I was just fine until you arrived," he growled.
"Funny, so was I before you invited yourself in for the summer," said Petunia. Her glare faltered as she realized her insinuation, and she hurriedly amended: "Of course, the only thing I regret is that you had to tag along. James knows I'm quite happy to have him here." She batted her eyelashes so quickly that it must have felt like a seizure from her point of view.
James lifted one corner of his mouth half-heartedly. "Er, thanks." He coughed. "But you know, we're kind of a package deal. There's a fat chance we'd ever end up in a shithole barn, no offense or anything, if Padfoot hadn't had something to do with it."
Sirius snorted."I think what my mate here means to say is—to quote the goddesses of British pop—" he leaned into the centre of the table and spoke very matter-of-factly now "—if you want to be my lover, you've got to get with my friends."
Peter stood abruptly on his chair and picked up the chorus. "Make it last forever, friendship never ends!"
"Get down, you git," Remus good-naturedly chided, although nearly the whole table was laughing.
"Come on, Moony," said James with a wink. "You just want to end this before we get to your part."
Remus chuckled and shook his head.
"Do we even want to know?" said Lily, sharing a baffled look with Petunia.
Sirius stood immediately. "Yes, you do. Moony, where's the camera? Haven't we got this on tape somewhere?"
"Oh god..." Remus put a hand to his head. "Why you're so proud of that performance is completely beyond me."
"Sorry for your comprehension failure, mate. Seriously, where is it?"
"Somewhere in the basement. C'mon, let's get the dishes done first and then we'll have time to embarrass ourselves into the next century." He stood up and grabbed his plate, along with some nearby knives and forks.
Lily made to follow suit, but Remus wouldn't have it. He pulled her plate from her hands, stacking it on top of his own. "No," he said. "You've done way more than your share. Let us do the washing up today."
Lily considered for a millisecond. "Well I can't exactly argue with that."
"You lot enjoy," Sirius said, moving rapidly in the direction of the basement staircase. "I'll just be looking for the camera. Let me know if you need any help." And with that, his footsteps could be heard galloping down the creaky wooden stairs.
"Git," James muttered. Then, he raised his voice to a panic-stricken volume. "Sirius! Come back! We're in desperate need of your help!"
"How are we supposed to load the dishwasher without a fourth person?" Remus chimed in.
When there was no response, Peter crossed his arms and shouted: "Get up here, you idiot!"
Nothing. Eye rolls were exchanged all around, and then there was a very delayed reply from downstairs. "Sorry guys, very important mission here. Can't exactly leave. You'll have to go on without me."
"You're a prick!" James yelled back.
Resigned to their bandmate's negligence, the remaining Marauders set about clearing the table. Lily took this as her leave. When she reached the top of the stairs, she turned right and headed for her bedroom without specific intentions. However, she stopped in her tracks when she heard Petunia call her name from the hot pink void.
Wait, what?
Lily paused, glanced around for hidden cameras, and started uneasily toward the half-open door on her left. Petunia was at her desk, stationed behind Dudley. She looked up when Lily's silhouette appeared in the doorway.
"You called?" said Lily, tentatively nudging the door open.
"Yes," said Petunia. She stood up and moved toward the foot of her bed. "You can come in, you know."
Lily stepped hesitantly inside. This was, after all, a mostly unprecedented occurrence. The last time she had been in Petunia's bedroom without motives of anger or property destruction, she had been thirteen years old and operating under Teresa's orders to deliver a bowl of soup.
"For heaven's sake, I'm not going to gas you," said Petunia when she noticed the proximity Lily maintained to the doorway. "Come here, I need to show you something." And then, miracle of all miracles, she patted the folded quilt on her bed for Lily to sit.
Lily did so, instinctively bracing herself as she did for "Gross, you probably sat on the bus in those exact same pants!" which, thankfully, did not arrive. Petunia just turned around and opened her closet.
"So, er, what's going on?" Lily asked awkwardly. She would have liked to be more direct but didn't want to jinx anything at this stage, so she held back.
"I wanted to ask your opinion on something," said Petunia as she returned from the closet with two tops on hangers. "Which do you think James would like best?"
Lily was flabbergasted. "You're asking me for fashion advice?"
"Not fashion," Petunia scoffed, eyeing Lily's faded Greenpeace t-shirt and frayed shorts. The cynical gesture was almost comforting. "I just want to impress James. Green or black?" She held the tops up side by side for Lily's appraisal.
The sea green halter top and black ruffled singlet were so far out of Petunia's usual pastel palette that Lily could hardly picture either of them on her. However, she answered honestly: "Black looks nice."
Petunia held the garment against her narrow frame, nodding as she turned to the mirrored closet door. "I thought so as well." Their eyes met in the reflection and they both looked away, sharing a moment of awkwardness as they realized they had just agreed on something.
Petunia cleared her throat. "I've had this thing stowed away for ages because the colour is absolutely garish," she said. "But I've decided it's time for a new look. A bigger and bolder Petunia, I say." She cocked a hip. "Well, without the 'bigger' part."
Lily laughed. "You know, um, the clothes you normally wear are fine," she said. "Besides, don't all your sappy magazines warn you against 'changing yourself for a man' or something along those lines? Not that I've read those or anything."
Petunia sighed wistfully and draped the tops over her computer chair. "Then tell me," she practically begged, turning to Lily. "What can I do?"
"What are you asking me for? You know I'm terrible at all this."
"Because, Lily! He likes you, so obviously you're doing something right."
The words rang through the room, and Lily blinked. "The only thing I'm doing 'right'," she said, framing the word in dubious quotations, "is doing nothing at all. I don't want him to fancy me."
Petunia's face fell a little. She bit her lip, examining the two shirts now hanging on the back of her chair.
"...But," Lily added hastily, "Maybe that's what it is. Maybe James is into the whole... thrill of the chase thing. Blokes seem to go for the girls they know they can't get, right?"
"That's it." Petunia clasped her hands together, eyes lighting up with inspiration. "I'll play hard to get! I think there was an article in last month's Quibla about this..." And suddenly, she was flinging open her meticulously organized closet again and extracting a purple plastic box labelled 'Magazines'. "Ah, here it is," she announced, pulling out a glossy edition of Quibla. "Treat them Mean; Keep them Keen." Her eyes skimmed over the pages eagerly. "And it's by Rita Skeeter, too. She's an absolute genius with this sort of stuff."
Lily allowed her to read for a minute, sitting awkwardly on the bed as her sister's hungry eyes drank up all of Rita Skeeter's "Tips and Tricks".
Finally, Petunia lowered the magazine. "What do you think? Do you suppose it'll work?"
"Er, I guess it's worth a try," Lily reasoned. "But don't take it too far. I'd say just, well..." She tried to find the kindest way to phrase her advice, "...tone things down a little. If you can."
"Yes." Petunia nodded. She looked determined and happy. "Yes, I'll start being a bit more subtle. Coy, even."
"Brilliant," Lily said. "Well then, good luck." She stood up and made to leave.
Behind her, Petunia was already taking the magazine to her desk and using a highlighter to pick out important pieces of information. "Thanks, Lily," she said distractedly as she traced a pink heart around the entire article.
It was enough to make Lily stop momentarily in her tracks. She escaped to the hallway, wondering all the while if she had indeed slipped into some parallel universe. The Marauders downstairs doing the dishes, Petunia making a genuine effort to get along, thanking her... it was like a very demented episode of The Twilight Zone.
As she wandered into her room dazedly, a pair of green eyes shone in the shadows from the other end of the hallway. There was a blur of movement, and Harry slunk out of the darkness, padding down the stairs.
"Success!" Sirius' shout echoed from the lower story. The basement door slammed shut behind him. "I have located the video camera."
"Nice work, mate," James deadpanned. "So glad it took you the exact amount of time it took us to finish the washing up."
Lily, who had been on her way down the stairs at this point, continued into the kitchen and came upon all four boys scattered around the linoleum area. Peter was placing the frying pan back into the cupboard while Remus loaded up the dishwasher with detergent. James, meanwhile, had a tea towel draped over his arm as he stared darkly at his best mate.
"Weird, right?" Sirius said, using his thumb to turn the camera on. "Oy, Lulu," He flicked his eyes over to Lily's stationary figure, "D'you mind if we plug this into the telly?"
The Marauders all spun to face Lily then, notified of her presence in the kitchen. She raised her eyebrows and was about to respond when a tiny 'Ahem' sounded from the doorway.
There was silence.
To say she looked like a different person would have been a tad extreme, but the Petunia Evans that had appeared in the doorframe was almost unrecognizable. Standing nonchalantly with a hand resting on her hip, she was clad in the top Lily had approved along with a pair of dark wash jeans—a gift from an Aunt two Christmases past that had been immediately banished because they were 'too punk-ish'. Her usual gold bracelets had been replaced by a green-beaded hemp affair and her hair was loose and unstyled (by Petunia standards, anyway) around her shoulders.
To put it plainly, she looked, well, rather Lily-ish.
There was a general accord of raised eyebrows and dubious glances among the Marauders, which Petunia seemed to take as a sign that she had quite blown them away. She smiled smugly and did a contrived little hair flip all while determinedly avoiding looking at James.
"Hello, boys," she said, and addressed them one by one; "Peter... Remus... Sirius." The muscles in her jaw twitched with effort as she met James' eye for a second, and then she pursed her lips and walked off into the sitting room.
"What the hell was that?" Sirius mouthed, looking downright disturbed.
Lily shrugged. She chanced a look at James; he actually appeared relieved, if a tad confused.
The group followed in the Anti-Petunia's tracks and arranged themselves on the sofas. Lily located the necessary cables and helped Sirius hook up his camera, then took a seat and watched the screen as he flicked through footage.
The first image to appear, rapidly rewinding, was dark and strange and seemed to contain a lot of flashing lights.
"Is that...?" Lily's voice was full of dread. Sirius released his finger from the rewind button, slack-jawed as the video began to play.
"WOOOOOO!" On screen, Sirius and James were positioned at the top of the basement staircase. They were sitting one behind the other on what appeared to be an upside-down ironing board. Both were using their hands to inch forward off of the landing.
"I'm telling you," Remus sounded highly amused from behind the camera, "this is not going to end well."
Sirius hit pause.
In the sitting room, five heads whipped around to stare accusingly at the sandy-haired Marauder.
"Mate," James said warningly. "Please tell me this isn't footage from two nights ago."
"Wish I could," Remus told him, choking back laughter as he stared at the freeze frame, where James' glasses were glinting stupidly as he strained to push the board forward and Sirius' mouth was hanging wide open.
"Moony," Sirius slapped his leg, "this is brilliant!" Bursting with excitement, he unpaused the reel.
"Push, Prongs. PUSH!"
"'M trying, 'm tryin—HOLY—!"
The ironing board tipped forward suddenly, both boys sliding forward as it went shooting down the stairs like some bumpy, out of control rocket-toboggan. Combined on film, their screams became a crackling buzz of high-pitched sound.
And then the board became lodged on a step and the pair of them were flung off of the haphazard sled, landing in a heap on the carpet where they dissolved into drunken, snorting laughter.
On the other side of the screen, the hysterics were mirrored. All six of the viewers were in stitches from the utter ridiculousness of what they had just seen.
"What the hell is wrong with my hair?" James said, coughing as he straightened up. "It looks like some sort of demented bird's nest."
Sirius looked over. "Hate to break it to you, but that's its natural state."
"It is not. Is it?"
He nodded gravely. "You're going to have to deal with reality now that we no longer have the magic of Photoshop, mate."
"Remus," Lily cut in. Her tone was both accusatory and anxious. "Just how much of that night did you get on camera?"
"Well, there's quite a bit more where that came from," he admitted. "It's nothing horrible, though, I promise. Just thought it'd be a laugh. I was really, really bored."
"You're a genius, is what you are," Sirius proclaimed. He settled back on the couch cushions. "Let's watch this instead."
The rest of them didn't have a say in the matter, it seemed, and so they braced themselves for the rest of the reel. The sketch-like snippets continued in much the same manner: Sirius belting out Dancing Queen to the mop in his left hand; an attempted five-person pyramid with completely illogical weight distribution; a two-second clip of Petunia flopping off the sofa. Some were longer. In one, a disastrously crooked red carpet had been installed across the room and James was strutting down its length, waving up at invisible fans.
"'M here all week," he shouted, taking a bow. "Plenty o' James Punt— Pit— that is, Potter to go 'round!"
"Over here, James! Give us a smile!" Peter squealed, holding up a TV remote to his eye. "Ungh," he said when it jabbed him in the forehead.
Remus chuckled from behind the camera. While all this was going on, Petunia was nowhere to be seen. Sirius stumbled across the frame with his shirt over his head. Meanwhile, Lily was slumped against the far wall, launching Teresa's spoons one by one at James and yelling "GEDDOFF THE STAGE, BOZO!"
"Oh, god" was James' reaction from the sitting room. Lily put her head in her palm and very determinedly did not look at him.
The next clip featured Peter, standing on two stacked chairs, facing the wall. He had one hand on his chest and was soulfully reciting the garbled lines of a poem.
"This I sat engulged in guessing, but no sssss… slabical espresso
Took the foul fried pies now burned'in my oven's core;
This an' more I shathiflysine, wi' m'bed a tea's reclining
Neither can live whi' the other surviveth, the lamp-light gloatedor,
But whose velvet violet servant will break free n' set out to rejoin,
His master, ah, nevermore!"
Lily sat up on the couch and coughed several times, attempting to recover from her hysterics. "Blimey, I think Edgar Allen Poe just rolled over in his grave."
James and Sirius, meanwhile, were still dying. "Finally," James gasped. "Videographic evidence."
"C'mon mate, not even you could claim to have been sober there," Sirius agreed, wiping tears from his eyes.
Peter grunted. He was staring at the screen with an odd sort of expression on his face, almost fearful, but mostly as though he was trying very hard to work something out.
"I really think we should write these down," Sirius continued as his breathing came back to normal, "and compile them into a poetry anthology. That is some deep shit."
"Yeah," Remus snorted, "'The tea's reclining'. Absolutely profound, that."
"Well it makes about as much sense as real p.." Sirius trailed off as his eyes caught what was now playing on the screen. Horror began to creep over his features.
A very inebriated Petunia was staggering around, about one footstep away from collapsing onto the tequila-stained carpet, when Sirius zoomed into the frame.
"Twiggie," he said, sounding concerned. Just as she began to topple forward, he stuck out his arms and caught her round the middle, hoisting her body toward his and allowing her to lean deliriously on his shoulder as he rubbed her back. "I'ss kay. Here, c'mon..."
As the brief clip faded out, the atmosphere in the sitting room became downright painful. Petunia's eyes were bugging out of her head where she was perched at the end of the sofa. Sirius, meanwhile, was determinedly avoiding all eye contact and glaring at the television screen with such loathing it might have gone up in flames. The rest of the group stared at one another, not daring to speak.
Lily had never been so thankful to hear the doorbell ring.
Or, at least, that was her first instinct when the loud ding dong bounced around the house. Very quickly, she remembered their current predicament and began to panic.
Petunia sat up ramrod straight, eyes wide and fearful. "Don't answer it," she hissed.
No one dared to breathe in the window of silence. The Marauders were frozen in a variety of equally uncomfortable looking postures as they waited and waited.
Just as Lily's breath was beginning to escape in a sigh of relief, the sound blasted again.
She turned urgently to Petunia. "D'you think it's Vernon?"
"Please no..." Her sister looked terrified at the thought.
Outside, there was a strange rustling noise, and a female voice became distinctly audible. "I'm going round to look in the window. She can't hide from us forever..."
Petunia gasped. "Fliss!" she exclaimed.
"Shh!" Lily said, clapping a hand over her sister's mouth. She turned frantically to the Marauders. "Get down!"
Just in time, the four boys ducked down behind the coffee table. Lily chucked a pillow over Peter's exposed back as a face appeared in the sitting room window. A blonde girl had her nose pressed to the glass, hands framing her forehead as she peered into the room with shrewd, heavily-lashed eyes.
"I knew it!" she mouthed when she caught sight of Petunia's awkward, hunched figure on the carpet. "Petunia Evans, open up the door."
As if to reinforce the girl's command, the doorbell rang again. Lily and Petunia exchanged a quick glance, and a second later the elder sister was rising to her feet and hurrying to the front hall.
"Who was that?" Sirius whispered. He was glancing appraisingly around the side of the coffee table at the girl who had just marched away from the window.
"One of Petunia's bone-headed friends," Lily said in exasperation. "Not the time, Black."
As quickly and quietly as possible, she ushered the Marauders through to the kitchen, keeping a lookout for anyone else who might have been snooping. When at last they were all safely out of the sitting room, Lily flung the basement door open and urged them forward.
"Don't come up until I tell you," she ordered, and then slammed the door shut.
Female voices were projecting loudly from the front hall, and Lily followed them until she was tucked behind the coat rack, a silent observer acting on pure nosiness.
"Would you like to explain where you've been all summer?" said one high-pitched, indignant voice.
"We've been worried sick about you!" another chimed in.
"And what are you wearing? Is this what happens when we leave you alone for a couple of weeks? Honestly..."
There were footsteps and the sound of the door closing. A moment later, the whole brigade had barged into the kitchen and Lily had hurriedly thrown herself into a chair to avoid being caught snooping. She looked up and saw them enter: Felicity, Sophie, and Gemma, otherwise known as Petunia's airhead cronies. They were all blonde (or profusely highlighted, as in Gemma's case) and on the odd occasion she didn't immediately flee from their presence, Lily had difficulty telling them apart for their near identical wardrobe choices and their mutual commitment to being as obnoxious as humanly possible.
Felicity entered first, with her long platinum ponytail, snotty expression and upturned nose. She made a sort of growly noise when she caught sight of Lily, who simply ignored her. All three girls carried armfuls of magazines, make-up cases, curling irons and the like, and had the look of being on a very important mission. Petunia stumbled along being them. She looked entirely out of place with her rebel-chic getup and panicky expression.
Felicity stopped abruptly and about-faced; the others followed suit.
"Well, Petty?" she demanded. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Under less tense circumstances, Lily would have been hard-pressed to keep from laughing. She had always thought their nickname for Petunia rather fitting, and certainly no less ridiculous than the others; individually they went by Fliss, Soapy, and Gem-Gem, and together the four of them made up the Charismatic Quartet. It was all rather sickening.
Petunia was at a complete loss for words. She kept opening her mouth and glancing questioningly at Lily, who was equally bewildered. All Lily could do was look meaningfully at the basement door and shake her head.
"Did somebody cut out your tongue?" said Sophie, not entirely joking. She grasped Petunia's arms and said: "Speak to us, Petty!"
There was a tiny cough as Petunia seemed to come back to life. "I've been a bit sick, is all," she said weakly. "Not anymore," she clarified when Sophie dropped her forearms and took a huge step back. "I couldn't leave the house, and all my clothes were contaminated so I've had to borrow some of Lily's."
Felicity folded her arms, eyeing Petunia shrewdly. "Well why didn't you call us then? Or at least reply to our texts? You haven't been on Facebook in almost five days. We thought you'd died!"
Lily stifled a snort which did not go unnoticed. Four blonde heads swivelled to face her, three of them wearing expressions that indicated she was not taking this seriously enough. Fortunately, the Triple Death Glare was such a common experience for Lily that she had all but become immune. Petunia had trained her cronies from a very young age to treat her sister as though she was stupid, inherently evil, and to blame for every single thing that went wrong.
And so the younger girl simply rolled her eyes in response. Felicity sniffed and turned her attention back to Petunia. "You missed Tim's party," she said shortly.
"Yeah." Gemma adopted Felicity's cross-armed stance. "And sushi nigh—"
"He was asking after you," Felicity carried on. "Tim." She raised her eyebrows meaningfully at Petunia. "And then I had to tell him you were totally awol. Do you know who he hooked up with at the end of the night, Petty? Gina Hathwell. Gina Hathwell."
There was a long silence, and then Petunia said: "Oh."
"That's all you have to say? You've been arse over elbow for the bloke since about year five."
"Shh!" Petunia's eyes shot toward the basement door. "Keep your voice down, Fliss, please."
Felicity followed her gaze, looking perturbed. Beside her, Sophie and Gemma exchanged worried glances.
"Alright," Sophie announced, "Clearly, you've been locked up inside for far too long, my dear. Consider this an intervention." She turned to the pile of things that had been left on the table and began rummaging through them. "We've got the latest Vogue, Cosmo and SHAPE, as well as makeover and mani-pedi supplies, and a little Bruno Mars." She extracted the CD from one of the pleather cases and waved it enthusiastically. "Also, yoghurt-covered raisins and this ginger and peach tea that's quite excellent. Gem-Gem, would you mind?" She handed the tin of tea bags over to Gemma, who took it immediately and headed for the kettle.
"It's all right," Petunia protested timidly, her eyes drawn like magnets to the basement door. "Really, girls, I'm fine— it's not necessary..."
Fliss just fixed her with a threatening look. "So you're going to send us away after all the trouble we went to for you?" Her pale eyes were like ice, and it was clear that Petunia was trying hard not to be guilted. The other girls glanced nervously between their two friends as Petunia stared back resolutely, then tilted her chin up and smiled.
"Of course not. It's just, you didn't have to go to all this trouble." She paused. "But I suppose I could use a little girl time."
"Excellent," said Sophie. "Shall we go to your room then?"
"Hopefully she's not hiding any dirty secrets up there," said Fliss, smirking.
Petunia giggled. "That's ridiculous," she said, still looking toward the basement.
"Good, let's head up then," said Felicity. "Soapy, bring the beautification equipment. Gem-Gem, you can join us when the tea's ready."
Gemma nodded and beamed enthusiastically at her friends as they gathered their things and drifted out of the kitchen. It was partly out of pity, but mostly because she wanted the coast clear before one of the Marauders did something stupid, that Lily stood and walked over to the counter.
"It's fine—I'll do it," she said, reaching to pull a tea tray out of the lower cupboard.
Gemma regarded Lily as if she were a nasty stain on the linoleum. "Whatever, freak," she spat before skipping off.
As soon as she was gone, Lily tiptoed to the basement door and opened it partway. "Pssst! It's Lily!" she called. Remus' expectant face poked around the corner. "No good," she hissed. "It's Petunia's posse—I expect they'll be here a couple of hours at least."
James' face made an appearance just above his bandmate's. "Good, I'll come up—I've got some dirty socks I wouldn't mind stuffing in their faces." He grinned, and it occurred to Lily that the Marauders had probably heard most of the previous conversation. She tried not to smile.
"Oi, can you get me that Fliss girl's number?" said Sirius, joining them.
"I'd like Gem-Gem's!" Peter chimed in. "She sounds really hot!"
Lily rolled her eyes. "Keep yourselves occupied and don't come up here," she said, and closed the door on them.
When the kettle had finished, Lily brewed the tea and arranged the necessities on the tray. She took it upstairs—deftly avoiding Harry as he scurried on down—and knocked on Petunia's door.
"Yes?" came a snotty voice that could have belonged to anyone.
Lily pushed the door open with her elbow. The Charismatic Quartet was sitting in a circle on the carpet, makeover supplies littering the central space. "Your tea," she said dully.
"On that end table's fine," Felicity snapped, not even meeting her eyes as she compared bronzer palettes against Petunia's skin tone. "Goodness, Petty, you've completely lost your colour. You look ghastly. None of these shades are going to work." In a huff, she dumped the makeup compacts onto the ground.
Petunia did not reply. Instead, she set about examining the spread of products. "You know who this one would probably suit?" she said, reaching forward and picking up one of the discarded bronzers. Her mouth twisted thoughtfully. "Lily."
The tea tray clinked and rattled as Lily dropped it onto the bedside table. She tensed, wearily preparing herself for what was likely going to be an insulting joke.
Fliss, Soapy and Gem-Gem seemed to be on the same wavelength. There was some tittering amongst them, and then Felicity said: "With that horrid ginger hair? Hah! Good one, Petty."
"No, I mean it," Petunia insisted, flicking open the lid of the case. "Lily, come here." She patted the ground beside her.
There was silence. Lily, on full alert, checked Petunia for any of the usual signs that a prank was about to go down. Surprisingly, there were none. Her sister's expression remained quite earnest.
The blonde henchmen seemed just as confused as Lily. They kept looking at each other, and then Petunia, and then back to each other again, apparently at a loss as to how to respond.
"Come on," Petunia repeated.
Despite her self-preservation instincts, and to the great surprise of Petunia's friends, Lily took a seat and allowed Petunia to dust a bit of the powder onto her cheekbones. She sat stiffly, aware that at any moment, they might burst into laughter and start chucking eggs at her or something.
"See?" Petunia said, leaning back to admire her work.
The most she got from anyone in the way of a reaction was the bewildered grimace that had contorted Gemma's face.
"Hair time," Fliss said bluntly.
Taking this as her leave (or rather, escape) Lily made to get to her feet but was stopped by Petunia. "Don't be silly," she said with some obvious difficulty; "you should stay."
The others gasped. "Petty!" Fliss exclaimed, outraged.
Petunia shrugged in a sort of apology. "Mum's ordered us to keep each other entertained." She glanced briefly at Lily, whose face did not betray the confusion she felt. "Besides, we can use her as a makeover case."
"Yeah, extreme makeover," Gemma sneered, emphasizing her overbite. She was largely ignored.
"I suppose it could be fun...," Sophie said.
"All right," snapped Fliss. She gave Lily a cold look but did not speak to her. "We'll just have to make sure we use all of your brushes on her, Petty."
And so Lily found herself participating in the most sickeningly feminine gathering she'd ever experienced, being operated on by three blonde buffoons who hated her on principle and one who—well, she just wasn't sure what to think anymore.
When the door was shut and bolted, and they had watched through the lace curtains while the over-glammed trio drove off in Felicity's car, Lily and Petunia turned and sighed simultaneously. Petunia's promise to update her Facebook at least three times per day and join them on their next mall spree had the Quartet satisfied enough to leave after a near three-hour visit.
There was definitely some residual awkwardness after Petunia's efforts to include her in the pampering session, but it was vastly overshadowed by relief. Despite the ridiculous updo on her head and the Tantalizing Tangerine on her chewed-down nails, Lily found herself eager to return to what had become normal life. Without saying anything, she and Petunia headed straight for the basement.
"Bloody hell," Sirius said upon seeing them. "What happened to you two?"
"Don't even ask," Lily replied as she clawed about fifty bobby pins out of her hair. "What have you lot been up to?"
"Eavesdropping, mostly," Sirius replied. "Did you know your registers have almost perfect sound transmission? It's quite phenomenal."
"Lovely," Petunia growled. "Did you know you're pathetic?"
Lily didn't bother to point out the utter hypocrisy in this.
Sirius, meanwhile, seemed to be itching to carry on. "The Charismatic Quartet?" he goaded, raising an eyebrow at Petunia. "And you all have nicknames. Funny, I wonder where you got the idea?"
"For your information," Petunia spat, "we've had those names since kindergarten."
"Actually, that explains a lot, Petty."
Again, were Lily in her usual frame of mind concerning her sister, she might have informed Sirius that he hadn't been far off in his accusations. Petunia had become quite obsessed with the similarities between her group and the Marauders a couple of years ago, culminating in an attempt to turn her precious foursome into a band. Needless to say, it had been the flop of the century.
"So did you get Gem-Gem's number for me?" Peter asked from the sofa, looking hopeful.
"Er, sorry. I forgot."
"Just as well," said Sirius. "Their attractiveness decreased every time they opened their mouths. Good god. Please tell me your mates aren't such bloody dimwits, Lulu."
This was the part where Petunia was supposed to snidely say: "Lily doesn't have any mates", but the line never came.
Lily did have mates, obviously. She had just never been one to stick with an exclusive collection of 'BFFs' as Petunia had always done.
Well, to be honest, that wasn't entirely true. Lily had had a best friend for several years—a quiet boy who'd lived on the outskirts of town—but in the end the relationship had been destructive. Bob and Teresa had never warmed to their friendship, and when Sev had become tangled up in the nasty web that was drug addiction, she had finally been forced to let go. He and his family had moved away two summers ago, and she hadn't heard from him since. Of course, Lily had maintained several casual friends in the wake of his departure thanks to her generally sociable nature, but there was nobody who would come knocking on the door just because she hadn't updated her Facebook in a few days. This, she reminded herself, was probably a good thing.
"Er, where's James?" said Petunia with a dismal attempt at nonchalance. She twirled a silky, shimmery ringlet around one finger, looking eagerly around the room. Lily, too, had not failed to notice the absence of the messy-haired Marauder.
"Just in the other room." Remus indicated the half-open bifold door on the far wall. Behind it was a tiny, cluttered room that doubled as a sewing space and an ill-equipped workshop, and which the Evanses rarely used for anything except its ultra-powerful lighting.
"What's he doing in there?" Lily asked.
"Being a humongous dorkface, I presume," said Sirius. "Said something about research before."
"We should check in on him," said Petunia. She started determinedly toward the door but then stopped, reconsidered, and dragged Lily forward by the arm. "Go on," she said. It wasn't difficult to read her motives.
Although momentarily annoyed, Lily wasn't bothered enough to argue, and besides, she was curious as to this strange behaviour of James'. She stepped over the sleeping bags and knocked twice on the door frame before entering.
James looked up. He was seated at the small folding table in the centre of the room, poring over a sea of papers.
"What the hell—" Lily suddenly recognized the red folder underneath all the white: her research project on DeMort. "Hey! I thought you said that wasn't any help."
James regarded her over his glasses, looking amused. "It still isn't, really. No offense."
Lily expelled an indignant snort. "Then why have you got its guts spread all over the sewing table?"
"I thought I might give it another look, see if there was something we missed. You know, for the sake of being at least a little bit productive."
"And?"
"And... I've got to hand it to you—you've managed to find about the shoddiest information ever on Val DeMort."
"Well, that's not very nice," said Petunia, who was hovering anxiously at Lily's elbow. It came out sounding so forced and awkward that the others just ignored it out of respect.
Lily was, in fact, somewhat offended, but tried not to let it show. She folded her arms. "Shoddy how, exactly?"
James retrieved a stapled bundle and made a face at it. "Well, for one thing, you've got his tattoo totally wrong. It doesn't look anything like this."
Narrowing her eyes, Lily snatched the booklet from him and studied the diagram she'd included of a skull and a twisted serpent. "No, that's the Dark Mark," she said. "He has one and so do all of his followers. It's like the creepiest and most basic piece of DeMort trivia out there."
"I've seen it in person, Lily, and I promise you that's not what it looks like."
"What are we quarrelling about in here?" Sirius cut in. He and the other Marauders had just appeared in the doorway.
"You remember Val's tattoo, don't you?" James appealed. "The one on his arm?"
"Sure," Sirius replied. "Christ on the cross, right?"
James made a face. "What? No. Wormtail, you've seen it properly, yeah?"
Peter blinked, hands curled up inside the sleeves of his jacket. "Er... yes. I suppose." It took expectant stares from everyone present for him to finally mumble: "I always thought it was an angel."
"Please." Remus, who had been shaking his head, stepped fully into the room. "Val's an Atheist. You're both mental."
"Thank you," breathed James.
Remus nodded. "I think Prongs will agree that it's clearly a mattock."
This, apparently, was not the case. "What the hell is a mattock?" James demanded.
"Sort of like a pickaxe," Remus explained. "Only more sort of... stout. Half of the blade is an axe and the other is an adze—"
"Adze?" Sirius wrinkled his nose. "Moony, how do you knowthese things?"
James stood up then, keeping his hands splayed on the table, and burst out: "How is it that none of you lot know what his tattoo actually is?"
"I do!" Sirius insisted. "It's definitely the crucifixion thing."
"Val isn't even religious, Sirius. That makes no sense whatsoever."
"Anyway," Remus cut in. "He doesn't exactly have it out on display, does he? The closest look I've ever gotten was across a table when his sleeve came up."
"True," James said. "But I've seen it up close. Once."
"Well then O Enlightened One," Sirius drawled. "Would you care to share your infinite wisdom with us?"
James looked at each of them in exasperation, seeming almost reluctant to share his theory for fear that it, too, would be completely rejected. "It's a bird," he finally said. "A dark one, like a raven. Only it's got something in its claws and... well, I'm pretty sure it's a person."
The suggestion hung in the air for a moment. Then Remus shook his head.
"Again, that just doesn't work. I mean, this is Valentino DeMort—if he's going to have a tattoo it's going to be a symbol of brute strength mixed with cunning. The mattock is really the only thing that makes sense."
"Does it have to make sense?" Sirius argued. "He probably got the bloody thing on some drunken escapade—"
"None of this makes sense," Lily cut in, shaking her head. "I just— how do you lot not know about the Dark Mark? It's on every single site I researched from—"
"Yes, but I think we can safely conclude all of your sources were conspiracists," said James. "One of your articles referred to him as 'Darth Valdermort.'"
"So? They got their information from somewhere."
Remus interrupted: "Sorry, Lily, but I think James is right about one thing—there's a lot of made-up hoopla about Val out there. On the other hand, I'm still quite convinced it's a mattock."
"Seriously, mate," said Sirius, "that sounds like made-up hoopla."
"Well, it's definitely not a crucifix."
"Why does it even matter?" said Peter suddenly. Leaning against the walls in one corner of the room, he looked altogether bored with the situation, albeit a tad on edge. The others just looked at him as if he'd asked the wrong question.
"Well we need to know now, don't we?" said James.
"I could go get Dudley," came Petunia's voice from behind the irate masses.
"Yes," said James approvingly, slapping the table. "That is an excellent idea, Petunia."
Lily couldn't see Petunia's face, but she could fairly well imagine the manic smile creeping up on it. She did a giddy little hop, and her blonde head bounced out of the room.
The atmosphere remained strangely tense and quiet until she returned and stationed herself beside James at the table, placing Dudley amidst the scattered papers and bending over to type in her login details. The others crowded around behind them.
"So," said Petunia as Google popped up. "What do I search?"
James opened his mouth to reply, but Lily cut him off. "The Dark Mark," she said. "Put Val's name in there, too. I'll show you what I mean."
James turned around in his seat. He and Lily shared a long, silent stare that was difficult to describe; competitive, angry and awkward all at once. Lily felt her skin prickle and forced her eyes away from his face.
Petunia, who was oblivious to all this, began typing. "How about 'Does Valentino DeMort have the Dar...'" Her fingers stiffened suddenly when the list of recently searched items appeared and the first option was 'Does water have calories?'. Blushing, she furiously sped up her typing to bypass the search history while the others awkwardly pretended not to notice.
The results appeared and Petunia coughed, cheeks still a bit pink.
"See?" Lily said triumphantly, leaning forward to point at the screen. "'The Dark Mark is a tongue-in-cheek name given to the symbol commonly tattooed onto the inner wrists of supporters of Valentino DeMort. The trend began several years ago when devoted fans began to copy DeMort's own tattoo in an effort to symbolize solidarity.'" She crossed her arms. "DeMort has the Dark Mark. Look; it says so on all of these sites."
"... It does seem to be fairly well documented," Remus admitted at length. "But I swear, that's not what it looks like. Even if it's not a mattock, it still has that sort of stretched-out cross shape."
"There's no way it's a bloody skull and snake," James agreed.
Lily's frustration only grew. "But why would all of these people get tattooed if they didn't have good reason to believe that Val had the same one?"
"Look here." Remus pointed to something on the screen. "It says that DeMort made the design available to the public after receiving 'thousands of requests as to the nature of his elusive tattoo.' That sounds pretty dodgy."
Lily digested this. "So you're saying Val lied about it?"
"It's a possibility."
"Alright, give me that," James said, reaching for Dudley and pulling him sideways along the table. Petunia looked momentarily horrified, reflexively lunging to pull her beloved laptop back. She caught herself quickly, retracting her arms and feigning casualness, but still seemed to be waging an internal war of sorts.
"What are you doing?" Lily asked.
"Looking up the raven," James replied, fingers flying over the keyboard.
Lily scoffed. "What, you think you're just going to type in 'raven holding human tattoo' and Val's arm is going to show up? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever—"
"That's it." James actually sounded quite shocked. He had clicked on something from Google Images, and as the picture began to load, Lily felt a strange shiver run down her spine. "I don't believe it. That's exactly what it looks like."
Despite herself, Lily moved in to have a closer look. A creepy-looking raven with hollow eyes stared out from the screen. Its enormous wings were ruffled and spread out horizontally, and its talons hung below, tightly clenched around the wrists of a bare-skinned man who hung limply in its grip. Streams of blood ran down the man's body, tracing small rivers all the way to his feet.
The image was macabre in a way that was almost disturbing. Even Sirius remained silent for a few seconds as he took it in.
"That's horrific," Lily finally said.
"And you know what?" Sirius stepped back and folded his arms. "I reckon Prongs is right. I've only ever seen the bottom part in person, but it's nearly identical."
Even Remus seemed to be in agreement. "It's definitely the right shape."
"But what's this doing on the internet?" Sirius wondered.
James was already one step ahead of him. He'd clicked on the image source, bringing them to a web page that was all black and red and very outdated. A banner at the top named it "Lexicon of Occult Symbols."
"Occult symbols?" Remus sounded surprised. "That's odd. I wouldn't have thought..."
He trailed off as James scrolled down the page, glossing over a number of dark, obscure, and at times downright disturbing graphics.
The raven image ended up being right at the very bottom.
"The Grim Seraph," James read the caption very quietly. His brow creased as he took it upon himself to articulate the small blurb that was next to it. "Associated with the shamanic cult group 'Sons of Salazar,' whose beliefs revolve around The Raven as the almighty being governing human life and suffering."
A moderate pause; his words hung in the air.
"Reckon I just got chills," said Sirius. Lily could relate; she felt as though both the mood and temperature in the basement had plummeted well into the negatives.
"I still don't understand," Petunia spoke up. "What does any of this have to do with DeMort?"
"You don't think..." Remus let his implications sink in.
Looking uncomfortable, Sirius folded his arms over his chest. "C'mon," he said. "Val in a cult? That's not his style at all. I mean logically, I just can't see that ever happening."
"Yeah," James agreed. "It doesn't add up."
"But what on earth's he doing with the mark tattooed on his wrist, then?" Lily said. "If you lot are right and that's what it looks like, then it's way too specific to be a coincidence."
There was a round of fidgeting, but nobody seemed to have an answer to this. The question unnerved all of them.
"It could be...," Remus started; "it could be he knows somebody in the cult—or knew, I suppose—and he's paying tribute to them."
"Or maybe he just saw the design and thought 'Finally, a tattoo morbid enough for my creepy-arse public image'," was Sirius' suggestion.
"That's the thing, though," said James. "It isn't public. Obviously he's tried pretty hard to hide this thing from the world—if we're basically the only ones who've noticed it, and they've even got this 'Dark Mark' business circulating..."
Lily thought back to her project research. The Dark Mark had been a convincing motif due to its widespread occurrence; however, though she'd seen pictures of it inked onto flesh, she could not recall ever seeing it on Val's arm specifically. Perhaps James was right and it was simply a cover—but a cover for what exactly?
"I think we need to look into this a little more," she said, and reached for the laptop. "Do you mind?"
"Not at all," said James. Petunia looked like she might cry when Dudley fell into the hands of a second dirty stranger.
Lily spent the next few seconds running a Google search on 'Sons of Salazar'. There were surprisingly few results, and the first one was the same Occult Lexicon that they had just visited. As she scrolled down the page, however, the findings seemed to be following a similar format. They were all news articles.
Fire Tragedy in Knockturn. She clicked on this one, feeling that strange trepidation return as she waited for the page to load.
Ten are confirmed dead after an out-of-control blaze in the village of Knockturn this morning. Firefighters from the neighbouring town of Diagon arrived in time to protect the village's centre from flames that started in a forest reserve but quickly spread.
"Flames everywhere," commented Horace Slughorn, a shaken townsperson. "Yes, it was really quite a fright."
An investigation into the victims' identities revealed that they were all closely associated with a spiritual group dubbed "Sons of Salazar." Locals say they didn't know much about the group but suspected they were engaged in frequent drug use. No traces of the group remain, though it is unclear how many members there were originally.
"Queer sort of folk," said Slughorn. "Never had much to do with the town. Always off in their forest huts or what have you, dancing round fires and singing their dreadful songs. Quite frightening really—might even say we're all safer after the fact…"
Police continue their inquiry into the nature of the fire but with little hope of gleaning any more evidence after such extensive destruction.
That was all there was to it—no picture and not a single comment down below. Just this short cluster of text glaring out from a bright, white background. Despite its evident calamity, the whole thing seemed impossibly small.
Lily waited for the others to finish reading over her shoulder. The reactions were varied: Petunia took a sizeable step back and wrapped her arms around her middle; Sirius said "bloody hell" and James exhaled in a short whistle.
"Spooky," said Remus, "but still, what can it possibly have to do with Val? If he'd been involved, we'd know for sure. It'd be all over this page and everywhere else."
"When's it dated?" James asked suddenly.
Lily traced under the heading with one finger. "August 15th, 2003."
"Ah," said Remus. "See, there were at least fifty Val-Marts open by then."
"Wait, though," said Lily, noticing something else at the bottom. It was written, very faintly, in italic script. "Our records have been transferred online over the course of 2003. This article was originally printed July 25th, 1987."
"And that would make Val..."
"A young whippersnapper in his twenties," said James.
"Before people really knew anything about him," said Lily, starting to put the pieces together.
"No. No, this is ridiculous," Remus cut in. "Think about it, guys. We aren't just going to uncover some deep, dark history of Val's after five minutes of Google-searching."
"Says who?" James challenged. "Moony, think about it. That tattoo is one of a kind. Why would he have it if he wasn't associated in some way with these Sons of Salazar people?"
"Yeah, mate, but we know Val," Sirius reminded him. "Can you really imagine him buying into any of that rubbish? It'd be like... I dunno... finding out that Pete had a secret past as a ballet dancer or something."
At the mention of his name, Peter shifted. "Wait," he said. "...Wouldn't Val still have been living in Russia while all this was going on?"
There was a short silence.
"Damn," James said, raising a palm to his chin. "Yeah, I forgot about that."
"Why do I feel like the more research we do, the further away we get from actually figuring anything out?" Lily said dully.
James went back to scrolling through Google. "These results are all the same article," he said. "Don't you think it's strange that ten people died and it hardly got any media coverage?"
"But this was years ago, remember," said Remus. "Things were different."
"Yeah, but still..." He had clicked on yet another identical article. He scrolled to the bottom. "Look here: Article transcribed from The Daily Prophet, 1987. Full records available at the Knockturn library branch."
"What is this, the Dark Ages?" scoffed Sirius. "Who actually uses libraries anymore?"
"I know this is stupid considering we have basically nothing to go on," Lily spoke up suddenly. Her face was clouded with thought. "But does anyone else feel like there's just something... off... about this whole thing? I can't explain it, but..."
Lily was mildly surprised when it was James who answered her first, who turned to her with such unrelenting conviction and intensity that it was as though something physical passed between them. "I do," he said. "I think we ought to find out more about it."
"Now hold on, Sherlock," said Remus. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It's certainly pretty intriguing, but is it really something we need to delve into?"
Lily and James looked at one another. It was strange; much of the awkwardness between them had dissipated and in that moment their individual resolve locked together. Lily knew just by looking at him that they were thinking precisely the same thing.
"That's exactly what it is," James said, turning to Remus. "Don't you see? We already said it: if we're going to get Val off our tails, we need something incriminating that could potentially take him down."
"And this is about as incriminating as it gets," Lily acknowledged, pointing at the screen.
"So maybe it's worth looking into this a little further?" Sirius said hesitantly, looking back and forth between his mates.
Remus relented. "I suppose it couldn't hurt."
"What does that mean, then?" Petunia wanted to know. She looked at James' profile as she spoke. "If we can't find anything else online, then...?"
"Then that settles it," James finally spoke. He glanced up from Dudley, and his eyes were shining from the light of the screen. "We're going to have to go straight to the source. Who's up for a little road trip?"
A/N: Hey guys! Gollum here. sorry bout the wait bin prity bizee taykin drugzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzz Thanks, Will. But really, we are sorry and we know you're sick of hearing it. Life has changed a lot since we started writing this story two years ago, and it's becoming harder and harder to find the time to collaborate. But we promise to finish the story no matter how long it takes us!
The good news is, we're actually using our Tumblr now so head over there between updates if you get bored.
Last thing we have to say: Alright, so we feel like this chapter was kind of a letdown in the Lames department. But just so you know, now that we've crammed all the plot development into half a chapter, you can look forward to plenty of the good stuff in the next one! ;)
Sinseerlie,
Liz and Sam
(Seven Scribbles)
P.S. Sometime in the near future, we plan to combine the two halves of Chapter Eight into one chapter so that it matches up with our original plan. So if you get another notification for "Chapter Ten" later on, it means there is actually a new chapter! Sorry for the confusion, but it's just going to bother us otherwise. :P