She couldn't sit still. She tried to read, but couldn't focus. She made more rounds than she needed to, checked each compartment three or four times. She jiggled her legs. She tapped her fingers against her thighs in a rhythm no one could hear. She tried to pay attention to her friends' conversation and couldn't stay in tune with that either.

"Lily!" said Sirius, jarring her out of her little trance. "Snap out of it."

"Sorry," she sighed. "Just nervous, I guess."

He snorted. "Lil, the Potters are the least nerve-inducing people on the planet. Seriously, they like everybody. They'll love you. Chill."

"As much as I hate to say it," Remus teased, "Sirius is right. Plus I'll be there starting the day after Christmas. If on the off chance you're unhappy there, we can hide out in the woods somewhere and read."

"You can always visit me," volunteered Peter.

James squeezed Lily's arm reassuringly. "We'll all meet up in London one day, Peter. Grab lunch and all that. Lil, don't worry. Mum's already written me about how excited she is to have you and how you seem great."

She smiled and leaned into James. In truth, it wasn't the Potters she was worried about. Well, not specifically. She was worried about food... but then, wasn't she always?

She would figure it out when she got there, she decided. Somehow.

Her stomach knotted itself when they arrived at King's Cross station. Her parents wouldn't be meeting her here, as they always had before. They had understood why she wasn't coming home, and expressed that they were looking forward to meeting James at the wedding. But she knew they missed her, and the same went for her. This summer, she'd find a way to get them out of Cokeworth. She owed them that.

She had seen James's parents before, she supposed, but at a distance. Still, Mr. Potter wasn't hard to spot; he looked just like James, but with blue eyes and hair that was nearly all white. Her first impression was that they were older than she had expected; her second impression was that Mrs. Potter was soft and very warm, as she was pulled into a hug even before the greeting.

She felt the knot loosen. No, she wasn't going home, but this was good enough. It had to be.

"Lily!" said Mr. Potter pleasantly. "We've heard so much about you. For years," he added with a sly wink in James's direction.

The younger boy blushed. "Shut up, dad," he muttered.

"Tsk, tsk, mouthing off to your father," said Mrs. Potter teasingly. "We'll have to shut your hands in the oven for that one. Or perhaps force you to eat flobberworms instead of the pork roast and chocolate pie we've got for dinner."

Lily laughed freely. "Years, huh?" she asked Mr. Potter, more at ease by the moment. "I hope mostly good things, although I imagine you've heard a few of the names I called him in the earlier days."

"Him, and others," he chuckled. "I admit I like 'toerag' the best." These were definitely the coolest old people she had met in her life.

Lily blushed, laughed with them. "I haven't had to use any of the good ones for most of the year, though. Without being able to torture James by ignoring him, my year's been rather boring."

"I can imagine," teased Mrs. Potter. "Now, let's get home. Dinner's waiting."

The home was gigantic. She supposed she should have expected that. It didn't quite fall into mansion territory, but she imagined it was close. James gave her a quick tour ("Put her in one of the bedrooms on the opposite side of the house to yours," insisted Mrs. Potter) and Lily was relieved to find that her "room" was in fact more of a suite, with (yes!) a private bathroom. There had to be at least ten bedrooms. Who would ever need this much house?

Oh yes, she thought wickedly. Petunia would absolutely die if she knew.

Dinner was, indeed, put on the table less than fifteen minutes after their arrival. Lily found it easy to pretend to eat: With all the conversation being tossed around the table, no one was paying too much attention to what was on her plate. So she cut her pork into the tiniest of pieces, putting one in her mouth only on occasion, and pushed the rest around her plate. By the time the meal was finished it looked as though she had eaten substantially more than she had. She was, in a way that she knew to be sick, quite proud of herself.

Dessert was much harder. How did you pretend to eat pie? "I'm really not sure I can eat any more," she insisted to Mrs. Potter as she started to serve Lily the first slice. "I'm sure it's wonderful, but I'm quite full."

"You didn't eat anything on the train," James said to her. "Nor for breakfast. Your stomach probably just can't tell it's hungry because of all the excitement today. Go ahead, have a small slice at least."

Shit. "Oh, all right, but really just a small one, please."

"Of course, dear," said Mrs. Potter. She handed Lily a plate with what looked to her like a huge slice. It was substantially smaller than the first piece, which Sirius was now delightfully inhaling, but it made her stomach tense.

She took it bite by bite. By the fourth bite she was full. By the sixth she wanted to throw up.

She finished her slice around the same time as everyone else; she was very careful to pace herself in that way. She couldn't bare to be the one to finish last, with eyes on her. And to finish first was even worse.

Lily was going to offer to help with the dishes, if only to have something to get her mind off of her stomach, but Mrs. Potter merely cleared them with a wave of her wand and the group continued to chat over the table. She tapped her fingers anxiously against her thigh. She knew her breath was going ragged, despite her best efforts to control it.

"Are you okay?" James murmured into her ear while the others were absorbed in conversation about broomstick regulations.

"Yes. No," she whispered back. "No probably not, but maybe. I can be. Maybe not. I don't know." God she felt stupid.

"Shh," he soothed. "Come on."

He stood, gently tugged her up with him. "I'm going to show Lily the grounds," he announced. The men gave absent nods, caught up in fierce debate over whether foot rests should be permitted in Quidditch; Mrs. Potter smiled and waved them away.

"What's the matter?" he asked as soon as they were outside.

She shook her head. She couldn't explain it, couldn't tell him now and ruin the holiday. Ruin her for him. She was shaking, wanted to throw up and cry and run and hide and fall apart. She sucked in a trembling breath, and the cold air sent shards into her lungs.

"Here, sit with me," he said, gesturing to the steps.

She remained standing. "Actually I need a few minutes alone. Okay? I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She stammered it.

"Quit apologizing," he ordered gently. "I can go inside for a bit, or you can walk-the woods, just through there, are my favorite place to go when I need to be anywhere else but here."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

He took her face in his hand, tilted it toward his, kissed her gently. Amazing how calming his skin was to her.

Not calming enough to justify that monstrous slice of pie, but enough that she stopped shaking. She squeezed his free hand before she walked toward the woods where he had gestured.

Once she was sure he couldn't see her anymore, she broke into a run. When she was positive she was outside of hearing distance, she pulled back her hair and bent at the waist.

She didn't need to use her fingers, not when her belly was full and her mind racing; she merely clenched the muscles in her stomach and tried to blink away the sting in her eyes. Oh, she hated herself. She was humiliated beyond belief.

She pulled her wand out of her pocket, pointed it at the mess she'd made and whispered, "Evanesco." There was a hole in the snow now, where she could see the dead grass beneath.

She pointed the wand at herself now, nonverbally cleaned herself up as was her routine. Then she merely leaned against a tree, tried to remember what normal breathing was supposed to be.

Panic attack. Lily knew what they were, had had a few. But why now? The damn pie could've waited. But no, she'd had to embarrass herself in front of James. With no logical explanation to give him.

No point putting it off, she thought. She pushed off from the tree and began to walk.

"... and that's why I flipped out," Lily finished. She held her breath.

James only stared at her. "You had a panic attack," he said slowly, "because when you were little you choked on a bite of pie and now it makes you anxious."

"You know I'm a stress case," she said desperately. "And the entire day's been stressful. It was just the tip of the iceberg."

He nodded. "Okay," he said. She breathed out slowly. Was it as simple as all that?

"I feel stupid," she said honestly.

"You should," the boy answered and it felt like a slap across her face.

She raised her brows, her back up. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he answered. "Lil, you don't need to lie to me."

"I just-I-I um..." she stammered. "What?" No, no, no. Her hands shook. Blood roared in her ears. She was about to lose him, she knew it.

"I don't know what's going on," said the boy, sitting down on the front steps. "But I know when I'm being lied to. I care about you."

"I care about you, too," she whispered. "That's why I can't tell you." Her eyes started to fill.

"No no no, don't cry," he said, suddenly desperate. "Look Lily, you can tell me anything."

"But I can't." She took in a ragged breath, heard the tears in it as they started to fall. "Please understand. I don't want to lose you."

James ran a stressed hand through his hair. "I can't understand until you tell me, Lily. What could possibly be so bad that you can't tell me? You know how long I chased after you. Chasing me away won't be easy." He reached a hand up to hers, tugged her gently down to the steps. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

She shook her head. "Please just understand," she whispered, "this is so hard for me." Her world was crashing at her feet. She couldn't remember being this... this miserable, not since the intervention where her family had told her she was going to the clinic.

"You're not going to lose me," James said, his voice soothing now. He squeezed her gently. "I swear it. I care too much for you to let... whatever this is, tear us apart."

"Then please," she begged, "don't ask me to tell you. I swear it's nothing... against you. It's not hurting anybody. It's just..." There was no way she could think to explain it without giving it away. "Something I have to work on."

She shut her eyes, willing the tears to stop, willing her strength to come back. Her pulse fluttered fast as butterfly wings, pounded harder than a hammer. She was going to lose him because she couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell him or, she just knew it, she was going to lose him.

After a long, long stretch of silence, James nodded. "I trust you, Lily," he murmured. "Strange to say I trust the liar, but I do."

It stung, but it was meant to. "I'm not a liar," she defended. "Not in any other situation."

"That's why I trust you," he said in that soothing tone he was so good at. "Relax. Come here." He pulled her so she was leaning back against his muscular chest, held on to her tightly. She fought to control her breathing so the tears wouldn't come back.

They sat for a few minutes without making conversation. She calmed down gradually, aided by James's kissing the top of her head and murmuring reassurances in her ear. Somehow her mood leveled out; he wasn't going to leave her after all, and more, he had reassured her that she needn't walk on eggshells. She resolved to show her appreciation to him somehow soon.

"I'm sorry," she said at length. "Please understand that I can't tell you right now, but I will. When I can."

He nodded again. "I wish you trusted me the way I trust you," he told her. "But for now we'll let it lie. Why don't we go back inside? My parents go to bed right after dinner, so you, Sirius and I will have the house to ourselves."

"So much house," she chuckled. "We could probably scream at the top of our lungs at the entrance and no one in the kitchen could hear us."

"Except my mother," he teased. "She hears everything."

She pulled away from him, offered a sly grin. "I know a spell that could fix that," she teased, thinking of the Muffliato that Severus had invented. "We could be as loud as we wanted and she'd never hear a thing."

"Well, that's an idea," he said. "Come on. I'll help you unpack your things."