A/N:

LADIEEEEES AND GENTLEMENNNN!!!!! IT IS TIME FOR THE LOTTERY RESULLLLLTSSSS! THANK YOU TO ALL PARTICIPANTS – I LOVE YOU ALL. *sniff*

AND NOW!!!

FOR THE GRAND, PRIZE WINNER – RECIPIENT OF A FRESHLY BAKED ONE-SHOT BY YOURS TRULY….

DRUM ROLL PLEASE…

THEMARAUDERSANDLILY!!!!! CONGRATULATIONS! We shall be in touch soon.

Yay! But wait – there's more!!

THERE ARE RUNNER UPS, WHERE YOU EARN A STORY-CENTRIC OUTTAKE/SNAPSHOT OF YOUR FAVORITE CHARACTER AND/OR MOMENT. THESE WILL BE INCLUDED IN THE STORY AND DEDICATED TO YOU *wink*.

THE OUTTAKE WINNERS AREEEE

BOOKCRZGIRL , BLUEBERRE, THE BLOND ONE AND POWWO.

YAY!! THERE'S GOING TO BE ANOTHER ONE OF THESE SOON, SO KEEP A LOOK OUT!!!

Chapter 25: Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

The room was silent as a grave, save for the grandfather clock in the corner. It was quite a nice clock, but really, no one was paying attention to it at that particular moment.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

"Um," said James. He was sitting across from his parents, next to Lily. For some reason, they were holding hands, which had made him feel better, until he realized that his parents seemed to be staring at their clasped hands with something akin to horror.

"So, err… Well, I have something to tell you, Mum, Dad…"

Mrs. Potter rubbed her forehead miserably, as Mr. Potter sighed heavily.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

"Its quite alright, son. We… already know. At least, we guessed."

James blinked. "Oh. Oh! Really… Really? I mean, um, wow. Wow!" he exhaled with a small laugh, looking back at Lily, who smiled at him encouragingly. "What about that! So…" he looked worried again. "Are you mad?"

Mr. Potter muttered, "Well, the deed is done now, so there's really no point."

Still relieved, James quipped with a small laugh, looking at Lily. "Well, it's definitively done, you're right! Repeatedly," he added, thinking of his numerous Quidditch matches.

Color leached from Mrs. Potter's face.

But James babbled on. "Well Sirius, Remus, and Peter all got involved– "

"They knew?!"

"Well, of course," replied James accompanied by an eye roll. "They watched. Sometimes they gave it a go."

Appalled, his parents could only gape at him.

"Yup, they almost always came," he added cheerfully.

His father could only shake his head in utter disbelief.

"Bu- But –" Mrs. Potter stuttered, addressing Lily. "Did-didn't that ever… bother you?"

Lily shrugged. "Oh, not particularly. " She smiled at Mrs. Potter kindly. "After all these years, I'm quite used to it." She turned to James with a mischievous smile. "I have a lot of experience in that area, after all."

His mother covered her mouth with one of her hands, eyes wide.

Head still reeling, Charlus addressed his son. "When did this… start?"

"I was about… I dunno… thirteen or so?" James frowned at Lily. "You too, right?"

"Err, well, I think I was about eleven. But I only got really good at it when I was about thirteen too."

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

"Yeah… But I have to say, I'm quite good at what I do. Lily as well! I mean, we've both practiced a lot – on the pitch, on stage, whenever we could, really –"

"But it's never interfered with our schoolwork! I won't lie, sometimes, we've had to skip class, but those times were necessary. For emergencies.

Mr. Potter was aghast. Emergencies? There really were no words.

"But what are you going to do?"

"I dunno. Keep going at it, I guess."

Keep going at what? Wanted to ask Mr. Potter, and yet, a tiny voice in the back of his head was screaming, telling him, Don't do it! Don't ask! You'll be scarred for life! For the love of God, listen for once in your miserable existence!

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

He didn't ask.

Looking at the two of them, Mrs. Potter burst out, "Now you'll have to get married!"

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

"… What?"

Lily and James froze, their hair standing up on the back of their neck. The whole conversation had already been more than a little dodgy, what with the Potters reacting so oddly, torn between revulsion and terror at every thing they'd uttered. But at this point in the conversation, it was quite apparent that somewhere along the way, something had gone terribly, horribly wrong.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I follow," said Lily nervously.

Mrs. Potter gestured wildly towards Lily's midriff. "You can't be selfish anymore! You must think of what's best for the baby!"

Lily and James looked at each other, dumbfounded. "What baby?" asked James blankly.

Mrs. Potter fairly screamed, "The baby your teenage girlfriend is pregnant with!"

Oh. My. God.

Lily jumped as far away from James as possible, as if he were on fire. Normally James would have taken offense to such actions had he not been in the process of getting just as far away from Lily himself.

"Who-ah! Bloody hell, no!"

"I'm not pregnant!"

"We're not even – "

"I would never – "

"This is so wrong – "

" – Completely impossible for that to happen – "

"Not my girlfriend – "

"Not my boyfriend – "

"Oh my God, Mum!"

"Oh my God."

Mrs. Potter looked from one to the other. "So… you're not pregnant?"

"No!" shouted James and Lily together, James very pale, Lily very red.

"We're not even dating, for Merlin's sake, Mum!"

"I can assure you," Lily said stiffly. "That such an occurrence would be quite impossible."

"Now look what you've done," hissed James. "You've offended her. What is with you two?"

Relieved, mortified, flustered, Mrs. Potter could only flap her hands, saying, "Oh! Oh!" Suddenly tears sprang to her eyes and her mouth wobbled.

"I didn't mean – oh, I'm so sorry – I don't know what to say – " She sniffled.

Immediately the three people in the room gathered around her.

"Dorea, darling, don't cry – "

"Oh, please don't, Mum, I didn't mean it – "

"Mrs. Potter, don't be upset, I'm not offended, I understand – "

Dorea looked up to Lily with big, tearful eyes. "I can't apologize enough. We jumped to conclusions, and I – I – " She teared up again.

Lily, who normally wasn't extremely affectionate with strangers, plopped down next to Mrs. Potter and wrapped her arms around her, who hugged her back.

"Don't worry about it," said Lily, voice slightly muffled. "It's not a big deal."

"Are you sure?" sniffled Mrs. Potter.

"One day, we'll look back on this and laugh."

"Do you really think so?"

"Absolutely. Maybe. Well, probably. Someday. …It could happen. Eventually."

"Yeah, in a hundred years, maybe," muttered James. His father shot him a dirty look that James mirrored. He mouthed, This is all your fault, to the Auror who rolled his eyes but turned pink at the truth in his son's words.

Mrs. Potter pulled back from the hug and opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then squinted at her. "I know you!"

"Err, well, you might, yeah."

"But from where?"

Lily squirmed. "Erm, I sing, so – "

"Oh, my Merlin!" gaped Mrs. Potter. "You're that Flor girl! You're famous!" She turned to her husband. "She's famous."

"For what?" said Mr. Potter blankly.

Mrs., Potter waved him aside. "Never mind him. Oh my goodness, what an honor!" She patted Lily's hand. "I love your songs. Always listen when they come on the radio!" Mrs. Potter sighed happily, bound and determined to put her social faux pas aside. The girl wasn't really pregnant, so really, where was the harm? "I'm a bit too old for music like that, but I can't help it. I've always found you so very talented. And you're Jamie's friend? Oh, my. Wait till I tell Mrs. Abbott." She glowed. Ironically enough, for an Unspeakable, Mrs. Potter could sometimes be a bit of a gossip. Product of not being able to talk about anything else, James always theorized.

Lily ducked her head. "Well, thank you. I came along to, err – support James. Today." The redhead glanced back at James.

James swallowed. "Yeah. Right."

He sat on the coffee table across from the couch that housed his parents and his fellow Gryffindor.

Time to come out with it. Mr. Potter was frowning, as Mrs. Potter, still holding Lily's hands, blinked at him.

"Err, you know Ric Lyon? That Quidditch player?"

"Yes," growled Mr. Potter, his expression turning thunderous.

"I think so, yes." Mrs. Potter puckered her lips. "What team does he play for? Are you his friend, too?" She then gasped. "Are – are you – in a… relationship with him? Because I'll support you no matter what - !"

"Mum." James glared.

Mrs. Potter simply shrugged uncomfortably, muttering, "It could happen, always surrounded by those three boys… You never know…"

"ANYWAYS," sighed James. What was with them today? Well, at least he knew where he'd gotten that ridiculously overactive imagination of his. Pregnant and gay all in one day. Maybe being a Quidditch player in the end would actually be… anti-climactic.

"Back to Ric Lyon. I'm not 'in a relationship' with him because I am him."

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

"Ric Lyon is me. I'm Ric Lyon. I play professional Quidditch. I've been playing professional Quidditch for three years now."

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

"So… Yeah."

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

There was a sound from the far side of the couch. All eyes turned to Mr. Potter.

He got up – James did as well.

Mrs. Potter got up too. "James," she murmured, pale and drawn. "What possessed you?"

James turned towards his mother – his father's expression was so enraged, so tortured, that James couldn't face him right then.

"It's my life," he said. "And I was given an opportunity. I took it. You can't shelter me forever." He turned towards his father. "I'm not Uncle Hars, dad," he said softly. "I'm not crazy like he was."

Mr. Potter shook his head. "No," he growled. "You're worse. Even Hars didn't join until he was nineteen! You were thirteen!" He grasped his son's shoulder. "You're sixteen, James! Are you crazy? Do you want to die?" He shook him once – not hard, but enough for James to tense.

James could have gotten mad. He could've stamped his foot, screamed, shouted, delivered a dramatic speech about being free before storming out - but he didn't. He saw the raw fear in his father's eyes, the broken look he'd glimpsed in their grey depths as he saw Charlus Potter rushing to his little brother's body, too late, unable to save him. He saw that same look there today.

So he didn't say anything.

"How could you! You know how we feel about this! So you've been lying to us for three years?" His face tensed and he shook his head, looking lost for words, desperate and furious. "Do you know what it would do to us if you died? How long we wanted a child? Did you even think what it would do to your mother? How could you be so irresponsible, so selfish! You're just a little boy, no matter what anyone says! You're a baby! You turned sixteen last month! I can't believe this." He release James and stalked to the end of the room.

Lily was silent, eyes on the floor. She'd expected something like this, and had felt it was necessary for James to have an ally in the room. But it was not her place to say anything – one of the reasons she, not Sirius or Remus, had come – they'd be unable to hold their silence. Besides, as co-conspirators, they could have incurred the Potter's wrath. So Lily sat, expression neutral, waiting for the storm to pass.

"Oh, James," sighed Mrs. Potter heavily. "Why? Why would you go through all of this? I – I don't understand."

"Mum," the teenager started. "Mum. It's not that I don't respect you or care about you – I do. But like I said, it is my life. And it started on a whim – I didn't think I'd get it – but then I did, and just – I just had to, you know? I mean, it's like choosing between being a Magical Transportation clerk and an Unspeakable. Yeah, it's dangerous and hard, but, seriously, which would you pick? Which one did you pick?"

Mrs. Potter, shook her head, biting her lip. "It's not the same," she whispered. "I was of age when I joined the Department of Mysteries."

"Yeah, but I can't wait, can I? When I graduate, I'm not going to have time to play Quidditch. I'm going to be fighting."

James swallowed, feeling the same sense of helplessness crushing his weight whenever he thought about graduation and what would come after. The Quidditch thing had started so innocently, just a heady childish adventure. But now it had become so much more – it was his escape, his chance to live the life he would have lived had Lord Voldemort stayed in the darkest pits of hell from whence he came.

James tried to find the words to explain that feeling to his parents. "There's a war out there – and it's only going to get worse, no matter what people in the Ministry say. You know that – you've said it enough times. I can't do much right now, being in school or anything. So… now's my chance. It's really now or never for me, you know? Before I have to go out there and fight."

Mrs. Potter sat, wringing her hands. "Are these my choices?" she asked miserably. "Quidditch player versus dark wizard catcher? Why couldn't you pick something safe?" She rested her forehead against the heel of her palms.

James sat down next to her. "Maybe it's because I'm a Potter – because I'm your son. It's not in my genes to pick the easy way."

Mrs. Potter sniffed and looked up. She cradled her son's face in her hands, looking deep into his eyes, so like his father's, perhaps not in color, but in shape. "Oh, my baby. I am not happy with you."

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

"I know."

Mrs. Potter let him go with a kiss on his brow. She stood up and grabbed Lily's hand, hoisting the petite teenager to her feet. "Come on, darling," she said with forced cheer. "Let's get the tea."

Lily looked back at James uncertainly, who nodded at her with a smile. Sure, apart from the whole pregnant thing, he had felt a lot better knowing she was on his side. But now he had to talk to his father. Alone.

Lily looked at Mrs. Potter as she closed the door behind her. Seeing the girl's inquisitive eyes, she smiled and slung her arm around Lily.

"Dear girl," she started. "Sometimes it's best to let the boys deal with their problems at their own pace." She brightened as she steered Lily towards the kitchen.

"So," she said slyly. "How do you know James exactly? You know, I hear that he's single now."

Lily blanched.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Charlus couldn't think, couldn't speak. He was so… furious. At everything, everyone. At James, for being so goddamned stupid, for being such a, a… teenager! At the entire Quidditch league for not realizing that Ric Lyon was just a child. At himself, for not realizing that the brash seeker, whom he had held an interest in, was his own goddamned son - how had he not seen it? Hell, he was furious at the whole entire world. Old bile rose in his throat, and he felt his age-old anger come back, pushing from behind his eyes and pounding his head.

Anger at his little brother for being so – so reckless. So selfish! For dying – for a goddamned game – for leaving him. And most of all for dying in front of James, little James, who'd been white and horrified. He'd had nightmares for weeks. James, who never cried, but would crawl into their bed in the dead of night, his eyes red and his stuffed snitch (which he'd previously disdained as 'too babyish for him') wet with his tears.

Damn Hars for his self-centeredness, for his wild streak. For risking his neck without a care for his life, or for how his death might affect others. Who died in front of their godson? Who would do that, leaving little kids with visions of dimming eyes, thestrals and never-ending nightmares? Who would do that to a child? Little snitch, he'd used to call his nephew…

Little no more. At least, not physically. James was tall – as tall as him. He was fit; grudgingly, Charlus had to admit that if they ever got into it, James just might be able to take him. Well, maybe. He still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

But it was his eyes – his eyes that were old. As if they, too, were aware that James was definitively not little anymore. And in his eyes, Charlus could read the understanding.

"Dad," he murmured. "Please don't be mad. I just… I had to."

"No," Charlus objected fiercely. "You didn't have to."

"I did," responded James calmly. "I had to get my chance to be a kid too."

"By impersonating an adult man and playing a dangerous, potentially lethal sport? Besides, you play Quidditch in school!"

"I surpassed my classmates a long time ago – but you know that."

Charlus just shook his head and sat down. Damn, he was getting old. He just didn't have it in him to be mad anymore.

He remembered. He remembered…

"Ahh! This is all your fault, you bastard!"

Charlus ducked the jinx his wife just sent him. Calmly, the nurse wrestled Dorea's wand out of her hand, murmuring, "There, there, dear."

"You're never touching me again!"

A tasteful vase whizzed by Charlus's head to crash in the wall behind him. The same nurse coolly repaired the vase with a flick of her wand, and wisely put it out of her patient's reach.

"Aahhhhh! I hate you all! I want to go hooooooome!"

White as a sheet, Charlus could only stand in the corner, wavering, wanting to go to his wife when it was quite obvious that Mrs. Potter was not very taken with the idea of seeing Mr. Potter at the time.

Eight-and-a-half months – eight months since they'd found out that Dorea's stomach bug was an altogether different kind of virus. A parasite, his brother had called it.

"Hey," said Hars nonchalantly as he stuck his head through the Hospital door. "How are the parasite and its host doing today?"

Charlus glared at his little brother. "This is a bit of a bad time, Hars," he growled.

"Don't worry," Hars rolled his eyes. "It's gonna take her like, three weeks to pop that kid out. You've got time." And with that he wandered off to sweet talk some of the nurses.

Three weeks?

Charlus grabbed a nurse as she bustled by. "How long is this going to take?" he asked, eyes wild.

"Mrs. Potter is progressing nicely. She'll most probably deliver no later than tonight." And with that, she was gone.

"But it's nine in the morning!"

And then, to Charlus's utmost horror, Dorea began to cry.

"Oh my – Oh no, please don't cry –"

"I'm scared," she sobbed. "I'm too old. What if the baby dies?"

"No, no," murmured Charlus. "I won't let that happen, I promise."

"Please," said Dorea wetly. "You have to swear. You have to promise to always protect the baby, no matter what."

"All right, I will, I promise, but please, darling, don't cry. Don't cry."

Dorea sighed. "Please stay."

"Of course." He kissed her brow, and brushed hair out of her face. "Of course."

As it happened, James was in quite the hurry to be born. It didn't take very long, though to Charlus, they were the longest hours of his entire life.

In the end, he got kicked out of the room, though Charlus put up quite a fight. To no avail: the medi-witches were quite stern, and told him to go yell at some people – outside.

So he sat in his seat and fumed as Hars grinned next to him. "Not everyday I get to see you manhandled by tiny ladies. Except for that one nurse. Man, she was huge! What was she, seven feet? And I even heard her name was Helga. Helga!" Hars shook his head in wonder and marveled at having found a living stereotype. "I think she liked you, by the way. Looked you over."

Charlus could only shake his head and bury his face in his hands. "I'm going to hex someone."

They were interrupted by a high, wailing cry (later, Charlus would compare the sound to marvel and joy, while Hars insisted that it had actually sounded like a dying alley cat).

In two seconds flat, Charlus flew to the delivery room, Helga vainly trying to hold him back ("Ach! You cannot go! It is Forbidden!"). There, he saw –

Dorea, red-faced but smiling, eyes bright and breathing hard. She looked up at the stunned Charlus, clutching a bundle to her chest. "Come greet your son," she said softly.

So Charlus went to his family's side, hands shaking, short of breath. In her arms, he saw a tiny red scrap of humanity, wailing with all the strength of his tiny little lungs. He had a shock of black hair, and though his face was screwed up, Charlus could see that the baby took after his mother.

"Hullo," he murmured, reaching uncertainly towards his son. "Hullo." The baby turned to look at him, and he quieted. The newborn, seeing something large and foreign come closer towards him, did the most logical thing he could think of and grabbed it, successfully catching his father's finger.

"What a grip," murmured Charlus, as Dorea caressed the baby's unusually hairy head.

"It'll be a Seeker for sure!" said a cheerful voice from being them. Hars came towards them, then grimaced. "Dear Merlin, it's red. Look at it! It looks so… weird. I thought babies were supposed to be cute."

Seeing the looks on his brother and sister-in-law's face, Hars wisely changed the subject.

"What shall we call him?" asked Dorea.

"James. James Harold Potter."

And as Charlus looked his son in his serious blue eyes, he remembered the vow he'd made to his wife, his son…

... and himself.

"I promised," began Charlus gruffly. "I promised your mother I'd keep you safe. That I'd… take care of you."

James sat down next to his father. "And you have. You did – you still do. And I do realize that joining a Quidditch team is a bit over the top, but… I dunno, I had a shot, and I went for it. And it's taught me a lot of good things, and I'd do it all over again."

Charlus shook his head. "Just like Hars," he said hoarsely.

"No. Not like Uncle Hars. Sometimes I take risks, but I won't die for a game – it's just not worth it. Uncle Hars taught me that much."

Charlus just shook his head. "I'm still angry," he assured him.

James nodded. "I know."

"You're grounded. Forever."

"…Except for match days, of course."

"…"

"…?" James raised his eyebrow inquisitively.

"Fine. Except for match days."

James grinned and thumped his old man on the back. "I'll get you tickets!"

Charlus grunted in guise of an answer.

"Thanks, Dad," James said, looking down.

"Yeah, well, it's a bit late now, isn't it?" Charlus shook his head in disgust. "Three years. I still can't believe this! How did I not see it?"

James shrugged. "I learned from the best."

"Don't try to flatter me, boy."

"It's not flattery if it's true!"

"That kind of bollocks doesn't even work on your mother."

Right then, Mrs. Potter came in, carrying a giant tea tray. Lily followed with a minuscule one, looking uncomfortable.

She sat down on an empty couch and tried to blend in with the furniture. Mrs. Potter, seeing this, shooed James off the other couch. "Scoot, James, that was my seat. Why don't you go sit next to Lily?"

Slightly puzzled, James obeyed, and sat down next to Lily, who glanced at Mrs. Potter, and seeing her duly occupied (pouring tea to her husband and chattering to him), Lily hissed at James, "She's trying to set us up!"

James frowned. "What?"

"Your mother! She's trying to get us together."

"…We are together."

"NO – together together."

"Oh. Oh!" James blinked. "Really?"

"Yes! I don't know what to do!"

"Hm."

"Can you believe it? Fifteen minutes ago she thought I was pregnant, you just revealed you're a huge Quidditch player, and now she's trying to play matchmaker!"

"Actually, from my mum, I can believe it. It's her coping mechanism."

"Setting people up?"

"No, focusing on small details while she chews over bigger problems. When I grew a tail one summer, she fussed over my hair the whole time we were at St. Mungo's. That's just what she does to be able to function."

"…"

Lily looked at James mournfully. They were both still in their school uniforms, and seeing the Gryffindor crest sewn into his clothes made her homesick. "I shouldn't have come," she muttered.

James slung his arm around Lily, who turned all shades of red. He smiled widely at her. "Of course you should've." He reached for snack and offered it to her. "Crumpet?"

Seeing them sitting together, arms around each other (well, James' arm around Lily's shoulders), Mrs. Potter sighed happily.

"Look at them!" she whispered loudly to her sulking husband. "Aren't they simply adorable?"

Charlus frowned. "I thought you two weren't together."

"We aren't," responded James nonchalantly. He added with a smirk, "Yet." as his mother squealed, his father rolled his eyes and Lily squirmed.

The redhead glared at him. "You'll pay for this."

James only smiled.

An hour later, Lily was stomping towards the field where the portkey would be waiting for them.

"What?"

Lily whirled around, her clover green coat flapping. "What? What?! You want talk about that little show you put on back there?"

They were walking down the gravel path out of the Potter's mansion, both bundled against the numbing wind. The last hour had been anything but pleasant. Still in a bit of a shock over James' announcement concerning his "job", James had jumped on the golden opportunity of diverting his parents' attention.

Still mortified over having thought that Lily had been pregnant, the Potters had been overly nice to her… especially James. Foolish boy, validating his mother's silliness! It still boggled her mind. They thought she'd been with child, and now they wanted her to go out with their son? What, wasn't one pregnancy scare enough?

James shrugged. "It was entertaining. And it made my mum happy. Gave her something else to think about other than me flying around being followed by lead balls of death."

Lily just gave him a dirty look. "You're only messing with her for nothing. We are NOT going out."

James just smiled and brushed a strand of hair off Lily's face, tucking it behind her ear. She turned pink.

"You're right. We're not going out –" He bent down towards her, his face now scant inches from hers – "Yet."

Lily could only stand there, mesmerized, as he got closer to her, until his breath mingled with hers. Her heart almost jumped out of her chest and she thought wildly to herself, Oh my God, is he going to…?

There was a sound behind them. Startled, they jumped apart and turned towards the source of the noise.

Against the stormy grey sky stood a tall dark figure, wrapped in a black cloak. His boots crunched ominously over the gravel. His hood was up, barring his face.

Lily felt her hands go clammy. Her breath fogged up, and she started feeling light headed. Every single nerve in her body was screaming at her to go, get out, run –

She looked at James. He was clenching his jaw, and beads of sweat had erupted on his forehead. She could see he had gone pale, and he was clutching his wand.

"Who are you?" he called to the figure.

The man stopped. "My name is not important." His voice was so cold, it chilled Lily down to her very depths. She resisted the urge to shiver, and pulled out her own wand. In a commanding tone that belied her unease, she fired back, "What do you want?"

The figure turned towards her, as if mildly amused by her question. He turned back towards James, dismissing the redhead.

"I have come with a… message."

James shifted, tightening his hold on his wand. That man – he looked… he looked like the people that had attacked him in Hogsmeade, weeks ago.

He surreptitiously started edging towards Lily.

"From whom?" But Lily knew it was a useless question.

"I think you know."

James clutched his wand. A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead.

They were off the Potter property, and had been off of it for some time now. Too far away for help.

"Speak your piece then, and leave."

The man inclined his head, and hissed, "My master wishes to inform you that he has been… made aware of your reputations. Your, shall we say, skills."

"How?" asked Lily, feeling her hands grow icy.

"The Dark Lord has eyes everywhere. He knows everything. He knows of you, Miss Flor, and Mr. Lyon. Our Lord acknowledges your ingenuity, and recognizes talent when he sees it. He would like to extend an invitation to the both of you, even though – one of you – is not quite of our pedigree."

Lily glanced at James, unsure of what to say, still stunned and horrified. Unlike her, James had thought about the possibility of him being solicited by Voldemort, and had already prepared his answer.

"Thank you for the opportunity, but I am afraid we shall have to decline. Nothing personal, of course."

"Of course," the man answered. He paused. "But beware – there shall soon be consequences to your refusal." And with that, he disappeared.

The teenagers looked at each other for a horrifying moment. Then, they took off running towards the field where the broken tire iron laid waiting for their return, so close, yet so far away.

A/N: Phew! Looong chappie for you – in a week! I am so proud. You're lovely reviews totally floated my boat. Keep your eyes peeled, for the ONE SHOT GIVE AWAY WILL RETURN TRIUMPHANT SOOOOONN!!!

In the meantime, please please please read and review. :)