Here it is, the first of the last. This should have been finished and posted on the eighteenth, but some things that were out of my control occurred and this has been my first chance to write or post. I read Deathly Hallows in a ten-hour marathon, and I'm largely happy with it, although (and I assure you I would be making this comment whether Harry lived or died, so those who have not finished need not fear spoilers) I miss him very much already.
"Abbot's here, Donahue, Doherty, Ling – ah, there's Ling." Lily ran through the list of prefects in front of her, marking their names as she confirmed their presence in front of her. As she reached the end of her list, James began assigning different prefects to compartments and corridors.
"Remember, just because term's over doesn't mean everyone gets to do whatever they want. Make sure you guys assert yourselves, alright?"
Once the prefects had filed out to tend to their assignments, James looked at Lily. She was running back over the list of names and assignments and didn't catch his gaze. "Alright, well, I'll oversee the back compartments if you'll oversee the front." James smirked. "What?"
"You're not usually one to make requests on this sort of thing. Meeting friends for a last rendezvous?"
"Rendezvous, what a big word." He glared at her and she smiled. "Sort of."
He nodded and opened the door for her, letting her go ahead. "Have a good summer."
"You too, Potter."
Their shoulders brushed as she walked past him, and she paused for a moment before exiting the compartment, leaving a silent Potter behind.
As she strode smartly from the front compartment to the back, she saw the joyous celebrations of another year ended and couldn't help but smile herself. Truthfully, Lily was hoping that she could salvage the remains of a final year that, she thought most would agree, had largely gone up in smoke. If this secret admirer, whoever he was, was a halfway decent bloke, maybe she could exit the train with a smile on her face and perhaps the looming uncertainties of autumn and the adult wizard world would seem less daunting.
She thought over the list of boys she knew, boys graduating this year and with whom she had had contact – Severus, Sirius, Peter, and so the list went on, although she couldn't decide on a name. The only two men she had ruled out for certain were Stephen, whom had possessed no possible reason for hiding any affections he may have held, and James Potter, whom had rarely bothered to try. And yet there was still something familiar in the messy, yet tidy, scrawl. It was a scrawl that she had seen before; she knew it, if only she could figure out where. Perhaps it belonged to…
"Remus?" Lily stared ahead of her in shock as she opened the door to the end compartment of the Hogwarts Express, her eyes meeting an empty caboose with the exception of a shabby and tired-looking Remus Lupin. It wasn't possible, of course. No crony of James' would betray him as such. "Erm, have you seen any other blokes around here? Anyone, say, pop their head in for a look-see and leave?"
"Lily, I promise you that I'm the one you're looking for."
"Then you…you sent the letters?" It all seemed rather odd and unbelievable, not because Remus was unpleasant or unattractive, but because he was so close to the boy whom had declared himself so in love with her years before.
"Merlin's beard, no. I'm merely the delivery bloke."
"The delivery…?"
Remus inclined his head toward a rather large burlap sack perched next to the seat he had recently vacated.
"I'm sure they explain themselves, Lily."
"'They?' So you're not…you're not my…?"
Remus laughed. "Lily, my good friend," he said while clasping his hands on her shoulders, "you're simply not my type."
He walked out and Lily walked toward the bag, slightly apprehensive of its contents. If Remus was in on it, surely this was a clever trick or prank devised by Black, one last hurrah before they left Hogwarts. By the odd way the bag lumped, she was expecting something foul and possibly alive, but when she gazed inside she merely saw several stacks of letters, each of them addressed to "Lily Evans, The Red Caboose, The Hogwarts Express" and dated in the same familiar handwriting. Reaching in, she found that the first letter of the first pile was dated for the first of September, the day the Hogwarts Express had left from Kings Cross nearly a year ago. Peeling up the wax that sealed the parchment, she unfolded the letter carefully, smoothing out the creases with nimble fingers before she began to read.
"'Dear Lily, It's me James…'"
Lily decided she needed to sit down.