CHAPTER THIRTEEN: No More Games, This Is War

5:30 am. Day One Hundred and Sixty-Seven of official employment. Current mood: slumbersome.

Lily couldn't wait for Quidditch season to be over, and it hadn't even begun.

Her enchanted alarm clock was especially peppy that morning. It seemed to have taken Lily's previous threat that she and James couldn't be a second late to his Quidditch practice to heart, as it had starting ringing a good two hours before they were due there. Lily groaned and swore under her breath as she blindly groped her bedside table for the clock. Where was it? This wasn't the time to be playing hide and seek. Lily swore again as she knocked something and heard it fall to the floor with a clatter. Brilliant. She was ninety percent sure that was the half-empty mug of yesterday's double-strength skim mocha cappuccino. Ignoring the fact that it would most likely stain the carpet if she left it there, Lily continued to search sightlessly for the source of the endless, annoyingly high-pitched ringing, finally locating the culprit just beyond arm's reach at the far edge of the table. The cold air was torture for her arm, and Lily hastily punched the 'off' switch and threw the clock to the floor before returning her limb to the safety of the warm bed. Her ears still rang as she rolled over and snuggled deeper into the duvet. She was in no state to leave any time soon. In a moment, the body beside her began to stir and speak in barely coherent sentences.

"What time…is it?" yawned James. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, apparently content with letting her deal with the alarm-clock catastrophe alone. Lily grumbled and grudgingly stuck her arm out into the chill again, scooping up the now irritable alarm clock from the floor. She opened her eyes barely long enough to spot the time.

"Five-thirty." Lily replied, tossing the clock carelessly back to the floor. It yelped as it hit the coffee-stained carpet, but she ignored it, instead wrapping the duvet tighter around her and James and settling back into a state of semi-sleep.

"What is your clock doing, waking us up…." he yawned again mid-sentence, "at this hour?" Lily almost didn't answer; she didn't have the energy to, she was stuck somewhere between sleep and reality, unable to sense or hear properly. It was too early for bickering. Too early for anything. She needed another hour or so before she could do anything productive.

"I don't know." Lily yawned too, "We'll use your one next time. The one that goes off late and then swears at you until you throw it across the room." The corners of her mouth would have twitched into a smile if she had the energy or the willingness. But at this ungodly hour, the best she could do was a half-hearted smirk. James didn't seem to notice. He didn't seem to be completely on his game either, as he simply – and childishly – replied,

"Well at least my alarm clock knows to wake you at a decent hour." Her amusement won over her lack of energy and Lily felt herself break into a grin as James' arms wrapped themselves around her and pulled her closer. Now this, this she could deal with at this ungodly hour. Lily leant her head against James' chest and let sleep begin to drag her back into its clutches once more.

BANG.

Lily's eyes shot open at once. It was as loud as a gunshot, and it sounded close. Had something happened down on the street? A firefight, perhaps? No, what was she thinking? It couldn't be a gunshot. She and James were in her bedroom, in her apartment, in Diagon Alley, a magical community. Wizards didn't use guns to kill each other. James had sat up immediately; he already had his glasses on and was desperately turning his head left and right in search for the source of the chaos through the pitch black. He was going to get whiplash if he kept doing that. Lily copied him, although slower, and felt her heart slowly sink back down from where it had lept to her throat. After a moment, her eyes fell on the curtained window to her left, and the shadows of two small claws on the outer side of her bedroom window. James followed her gaze. Was that…an owl?

A deep hoot from the shadows confirmed her suspicion. They'd been woken by the bloody post owl. Who in Merlin's name was writing to her at this hour? James gave Lily a little shove and wordlessly reminded her that she was closer to the window by slumping back under the warm covers, eyes tightly shut. Once again, Lily found herself forced to brave the relentless cold. Gritting her teeth, she sprinted over to the window, forced it open a crack, snatched up the note from the stupid owl, slammed the window shut again and jumped back under the duvet. That was it; she was not leaving this bed ever again. It took a few minutes for her eyesight to sharpen enough to read the lettering on the front of the envelope. It wasn't addressed to her. Lily sighed, reminding herself to force the lump next to her to survive the cold next time.

"James…" Lily whispered, kicking him under the covers to grab his attention, "it's for you." Warily, he took the envelope from her hand and ripped it open with eyes half-shut. Part of the parchment inside was torn along with it. Clearly he needed another hour or so in bed too. There was a moment of silence as he skimmed over its contents.

"They can't do this!" The lump next to her suddenly sounded a hell of a lot more awake. James had sat up again, jolting upright as if he'd been shocked, gripping the letter tightly in his hand. Lily's heart again lept to her throat and she also sat up once more. She winced slightly; the icy chill of the morning had been forgotten in his excitement. James' eyes had not left the letter. She was about to ask what the commotion was when there was another loud bang to her right. Another owl had crashed into her window bearing news. James continued to whinge as she repeated her previous actions and slammed the window shut a second time, "They can't do this!"

Lily ignored him as she ripped open the second envelope. What was all this chaos that had gotten her out of bed at 5am?

Prongs, have you heard? Whose idiotic idea was this? I bet Montrose and that Baxter bastard are behind it. There's a conference this afternoon – all teams have to be there – we'll find out more about this dragonshit then. See you at training.

-Sirius

Lily was just as confused as she had been before. Montrose and Baxter were behind what? What was this "idiotic idea"? Was it as ridiculous as the one that involved waking her up at this hour? James had lept out of bed – evidently oblivious to the cold – and begun pacing up and down the room. She reread Sirius' note, wondering if she could make sense of it. She remained puzzled.

"James, what's going on?"He apparently didn't hear her; he continued to pace, muttering to himself. Lily caught only a few words, "think they are…cold…Baxter git…". After many minutes of this, and it became clear that he was not going to enlighten her anytime soon, her patience wore thin. Lily scrunched up the parchment with Sirius' note in her hand, and carefully aimed for the moving black mess of hair. The paper ball flew through the cold morning air, and easily hit its target. James quickly snapped out of his daydreams.

"Care to tell me what's going on?" James seemed torn between indignation and awe that she had managed to hit him. Lily too, had been pleasantly surprised, but he was not to know that. His obsession with his own letter faded, and his hand ghosted over the spot where the paper ball had made contact. They locked eyes again, and James relaxed slightly.

"Doesn't that tell you?" He questioned, gesturing to where the projectile had fallen to the floor, "Some idiot has decided to move all our Quidditch games from night to day!" Lily stared blankly at him. Was…was he serious? Of all the possible things that James could have been moaning over, it was a change in Quidditch match times? This had to be a dream, it must be. It made absolutely no sense.

"I-I don't understand." She commented, shaking her head. "What's the problem? The League Board wouldn't have changed anything serious this close to the season. And you train in the daytime, anyway! Won't it be better? Easier for you?" James looked outraged.

"Are you insane, Lily? Montrose is the only team that has won a daytime Quidditch match in the last century!"

"So?"If it were at all possible, James looked even more incensed, and began pacing again. Lily felt herself shrink slightly under his heavy gaze.

"They can't win night matches! They're the only team that benefits from this! Whoever suggested this must be from Montrose." He stopped dead. Realisation dawned on him. "They've gotten someone on the Board! Th-they must have. Baxter would do something like this…they were picked to win last year…until we beat them in the semis. The charity match was just the beginning…this is Baxter's doing."

Lily sighed; every word that James said seemed less and less plausible. She felt like a mother listening to her toddler tell her a great story, one about fighting dragons, dueling house elves and then discovering a lost treasure, all between lunch and dinner. James look quite deranged in his anger; his glasses were askew on his nose, his hair stuck up in all directions and his heavy breathing was the loudest sound in the room. She swallowed, making sure she chose her next words very carefully or set him off once more.

"James, I think you're overreacting." He went to protest, but she shushed him, "Montrose can't have gotten one of their players on the Board. No one who is associated with a team can be. "No member of the Board should be related to, by blood or marriage, any member of a team, or have been associated with a team themselves." Even I know that." Lily drew a deep breath, trying to keep her tone from growing sarcastic, "You're overreacting, I'm sure of it. Montrose may be pissed about losing the League Cup, but they already had their revenge at the charity match. They're not going to resort to corruption and sabotage!" She tried to soften her gaze, to calm him down further, but he shook his head, still as disturbed by this as before.

"This is something Baxter would do. He's planning something, I'm sure of it." James went back to pacing, shaking his head at his girlfriend's foolishness and naivety. Lily sighed again and collapsed back onto the bed. There was no reasoning with him at this hour.

6:23 pm. Day One Hundred and Sixty-Seven of official employment. Current mood: dubious.

In James' obsession over what was surely Montrose's great revenge, the ten-hour training session flew by faster than ever. Lily found herself growing more skeptical with every thought spent on this stupid Quidditch-match-time fiasco, and by the time they were due at the British and Irish Quidditch League headquarters, she had come to the conclusion that if one more word concerning Baxter or Montrose's involvement left James' lips, she would most likely hit him with a disciplinary Bat-Bogey Hex.

Lily had never been to the headquarters before. She hadn't needed to, as James hadn't been called there once for a disciplinary hearing or suspension warning since she'd been working with him. It was quite a grand building; ten stories high and decorated with wrought iron around every window. She was quite impressed.

She and James followed a dense crowd through the entrance hall and down several other passages to a main atrium, where a small stage had been set up and several bearded, elderly men sat and surveyed the turnout. Apparently attendance was not just limited to the press and Quidditch teams, but just about anyone who cared about the game at all. Lily took note of the bustling atrium, and knew at once that she had just walked into the Hall of Fame. The magnificent chamber was covered from chandeliered ceiling to marble floor with portraits of beaming men and women, dressed in several shades of Quidditch robes, who smiled and waved at their successors to their teams. Lily fought the urge to return the gesture – now was not the time for childish behaviour. The meeting was to start in seven minutes, and they were yet to find their seats.

In the crowded atrium, Lily recognised the robes of several other teams sitting together. The Chudley Cannons sat towards the front, the Falmouth Falcons in the back-right corner, the Holyhead Harpies on the far side, and of course Puddlemere, front and centre. Fans of each of the teams sat nearby, and the atrium had been effectively turned into a rainbow of team colours. Montrose, however, was nowhere to be seen. Lily fought back a smirk. James had been definitely overreacting, and here was the proof. If Montrose had been involved, which they were obviously not, they would have made sure to be there tonight, to relish in their imminent victory.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The conference will start in five minutes." As they approached the sea of navy and gold, James was quickly swallowed up by his teammates, leaving Lily to sit alone with the other women who had accompanied their significant others tonight. Some she recognised from the charity match; a circle of gorgeous twenty-somethings, who, last time she saw them, were dangling their refilled champagne glasses from their red-fingernailed hands, although this time they lacked this. However, they were too engrossed in their conversation to include the new girl, the girl who stole James Potter from the lovely Alison Stern, so Lily remained alone. In a few moments, the atrium's noise hushed to a silence. The bearded man who sat in the middle of the stage had risen, and begun to address the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Board thanks you for attending tonight's announcement." There was a short applause – what, were they actually congratulating themselves for attending? "In the past ten years, we have witnessed some magnificent games. Some, we held our breath for. Some, we crossed our fingers. Some, we knew that it was a certain win. Some, we couldn't see what was going on." The latter drew a murmur from the audience.

"I had no problem seeing. If they had trouble, they should have gotten better seats!" The witch sitting beside Lily whispered to her friends, who nodded briskly in agreement.

"The Board believes that attendance at our matches in the last ten years have decreased greatly due to a number of causes." The murmuring in the atrium got progressively louder, "One of which, is the time of the matches. The Board believes that, in order to inspire a new generation of Quidditch players, children must be able to see the game in action." The Quidditch teams had known this – Puddlemere certainly did – so why were the shrieks of outrage coming from the Harpies and the Falcons? Perhaps hearing it officially made it worse? The old Board member carried on, glaring at those who had interrupted the loudest, "It is therefore, in the interest of the game's, that beginning this season, we shall move all British and Irish League Quidditch matches from seven o'clock on Saturday evenings to noon, Sunday afternoons."

The Hall of Fame exploded. From every corner, every seat in the atrium, there were deafening yells of protest. The Falmouth Falcons were swearing loudly to anyone who would listen. The row of Cannons two behind Lily began to screech accusations of bribery and sabotage. One fan, dressed head-to-toe in green, began indicting them of heresy. At the base of the stage, the members of the press swarmed – demanding real answers to why this had happened. Lily did not envy the man, who had difficulty avoiding the flashes of cameras and the intimidation of several spiteful-looking Quick Quotes Quills. It was unlike anything Lily had ever seen of the magical world. Riots about Quidditch times? Really?

"How much did Montrose pay you?" shrieked a young Harpie, who was lost in the sea of journalists congregated out the front.

"'Ow come Montrose ain't here?" yelled another, whose quill almost stabbed the old Board member in the eye, "They too scared to face us?" There was a cheer of agreement, and the reporter's quill went for the man's face again. He began to lose his temper.

"We believe that this small change could very much increase attendance at matches and increase revenue to the League. And so, for the following season, as a trial period, these changes will stand!" He roared over the commotion. Lily crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, the only one in the chamber who hadn't spoken out about this massive alteration to the game of Quidditch forever. She hadn't expected such an occurrence this morning, when it was just James scaring her out of bed at 5am. Merlin, what she would do to be back there now; none of his match time nonsense, none of this commotion, no thought about this stupid game, just her and James. Clearly she wasn't allowed to have such a thing.

After a good quarter of an hour, the audience had eventually yelled itself hoarse and quiet returned to the Hall of Fame. A new speaker, one slightly younger than the first, who actually retained his hair and lacked horn-rimmed glasses, had taken to the podium. The audience stared up expectedly at him; perhaps these insane changes had been revoked, perhaps this was all someone's idea of an April Fool's joke. It was a different kind of quiet to the stony, out-of-breath silence given to the other wizard, one of hope. It soon became clear that the wizarding world was not in store for the abrupt announcement of an April Fool's day joke.

"Tonight, we not only announce these alterations to the season's games, but an alteration to the British and Irish Quidditch League Board itself. Sadly, as you may have heard through the Daily Prophet or Quidditch Today," he nodded towards two reporters who had abandoned their front-row seats, "we have lost one of our own, a truly inspiring member of the Board, Mr. Arnold Keating." Lily did not recognise the name, but evidently he meant something to almost all of the audience, who bowed their heads in honour of him for a minute. Almost all the audience.

"Oh, he was so cruel,that guy! Gave such harsh punishments!" The same witch had started whispering to her friends again. Lily tried to ignore her – what was this about an alteration to the Board? There was more murmuring echoing throughout the hall. It seemed that, for the first time that night, Lily was thinking along the same lines as the crowd. The new speaker continued.

"In light of Arnold Keating's death, the Board is has inducted a new member. I am proud to introduce Ms. Alison Stern!" Lily froze. The world seemed to slow to almost a stop as the familiar high-heeled, Muggle-dressed figure of Alison Stern pranced onto stage, a wide smile on her face. Again, the atrium was silent, the two hundred or so were too distraught from the first set of changes to protest about the appointment of this…dragon. Or at least, the two hundred bar Sirius Black.

"BAXTER'S GIRL?" He barked, jumping out of his seat. The sudden burst of noise broke Lily out of her trance as she, along with numerous others, turned to stare. James, who sat beside him looked just as mad, and he too stood from his chair.

"What happened to 'no member of the Board should be related to any member of a team, or have been associated with a team themselves'?" In a show of support, several other men dressed in navy and gold stood also, some crossing their arms, some clutching their wands, ready to shoot a hex at the woman on the stage. For a moment, James locked eyes with Lily, silently pleading her to join him, but she shook her head. Making a scene was only going to make things worse, and that was most likely what Alison Stern wanted. Most likely what she planned. Evidently hurt, he instead put his attention on staring down Alison. Only when the massive frame of Marvel had risen, did Alison Stern finally react.

"Thank you for your input, Mr. Potter." She said, with all the sly coercion of a teacher. And in the continued silence, one by one, the Puddlemere team sat. Staring around the atrium, Lily noted that not one person from any other team had joined the Puddlemere team in their stand. Clearly, the hatred held for Alison Stern was limited to only those who had had the displeasure of meeting her. Alison cleared her throat, "I am sincerely humbled by my induction to the Board. It is a real privilege, and I'm very honoured. I wholeheartedly support these changes in the interest of the game and possible future athletes. I also assure the magical community that this is only a trial, and that your input will be taken into account when the Board makes its final decision in November. Now," she grinned down at the press, "do we have any questions?"

At this, the audience began to move, and the Hall of Fame began to empty. Only when they were among the few left in the hall did James again approach Lily.

"Shall we go then?" He held out his hand, which Lily promptly took. With one last glance at her arch-rival, the two of them disappeared.

7:45 pm. Day Sixty-Seven of official employment. Current mood: perspicacious.

"What do you mean, I'm overreacting? You're under-reacting! Weren't you the one who was so sure that Alison Stern is out to get you?"

"I'm still certain she is."

They had skipped dinner; neither of them had felt like eating. The press conference had sufficiently caused their appetite to drop, even after the grueling ten hours of Quidditch training. As Lily kicked off her shoes at the door, taking special care to make sure she didn't drip onto the wood floor, James crumpled onto the lounge with both muddy Quidditch shoes on, groaning at how difficult she was being. It wasn't her that was being difficult, it was bloody Alison Stern. Did she not have anything better to do than make Lily's life catastrophic? Clearly this was the case, or she'd be spending her every moment planning every minor detail of her upcoming wedding like every other normal woman. Lily smiled warily and took up the spot on the lounge that James had not stretched out to occupy. He stared up at her affectionately, and she busied herself lightly pushing the hair out of his eyes. They lingered like that for minutes…hours…

"Why didn't you stand up?" He asked. She knew it had been coming, ever since that second-long expression on his face at the press conference. Lily sighed and stopped playing with his hair. She moved her focus to the window, analyzing how the raindrops landed on the glass panes. For some strange reason, she couldn't face him.

"You said it, I've gotten used to thinking Alison's out to get me. I'm quite sure she was hoping there'd be a scene, better publicity about her new role, that way. And what a headline it would be, "Puddlemere's Abhorrence to Montrose Bird"." There was a clap of thunder, it began to rain harder. It was too hard to track a single raindrop now; Lily and James met eyes for just about the thousandth time that day.

"Sounds like Alison. Maybe your paranoia is a good thing Lily; we can use it to predict her next move." She giggled.

"I wish I could, it'd make my life a lot easier. I just want to know what she's planning with this League Board thing." Lily swallowed, and for a split second her mind went blank. It was then that she began to realise exactly what Alison was planning, "It's like she's out to scare us, or something. Because if she marries Baxter, she's immediately off the Board. And she's certainly intending on marrying him, so why go to the trouble of getting inducted?" Lily paused, it began to make sense, "I don't think this is about Montrose getting the upper hand, James. This is a message to me, to us. She used you for recognition and fame. Then she used me as a crash dummy for when she wanted to move on. I was meant to fail and to bring you down into the mud with me. She made that clear at the charity match."

"So getting on the Board…does what?" Lily considered this for moment.

"She's psyching us out. Now she's done with the love story between you two, she needs the publicity to move onto her new relationship with Baxter. The more media attention, the more interviews, the more money for a wedding, the bigger it gets, the more the public become invested in it, the more positive feedback on her, Baxter and Montrose. And we, the couple who everyone loves to hate, who are also associated with Montrose's arch rivals, make for a good story. We're the threat for media attention." James gazed at her, caught somewhere between awe and confusion, "This is good, it means she's worried. And we can play with that."

Lily felt lightheaded with realisation. They had the upper hand now; for once they could play it to how they wanted. Alison's games, ways to pass the time until Lily and James' ultimate downfall, were no use now. They could fight back; they knew how to fight back. And the only way to fight fire was with fire. Alison Stern, this was war.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.

Sorry for the long time it took - it's much longer than usual if that helps!

Again, thank you for all the wonderful responses!

-xSymnia