Petal in the Rain
Chapter 25—Castle of Glass
Bring me home in a blinding dream,
Through the secrets that I have seen.
Wash the sorrow from off my skin,
And show me how to be whole again.
-Linkin Park
Inconspicuously tucked away in one of the dungeon's lonely, dank corridors, the potions cupboard was one of Severus Snape's favourite haunts at Hogwarts castle—next to his beloved library, that is. Though the vicinity was usually crawling with young Slytherin students either heading to or departing from their cherished silver-swathed Common Room, the dungeons were sparse and quiet now, the autumn semester not commencing for another two weeks. As Snape perused his potions stores methodically, scribbling down notes concerning overstocked or missing ingredients on a piece of tattered parchment, he silently dreaded the upcoming school year.
Although he was a professor at Hogwarts and had been for nearly three years, Snape did not take much pleasure in teaching the school's snobbish, aristocratic pupils—most of whom regarded him with an air of indignation and disdain. He grimaced irritably, plucking discarded bezoars off of the cabinet's freshly-swept floor and meticulously depositing them on their correct shelves: What did the heirs and heiresses to pureblood fortunes need potions lessons for? Very few—if any—would graduate to become healers, alchemists or inventors, the magical world already at their disposal. They had no need of fame, fortune or respect—all of which they had been privileged with upon birth.
Some days Snape wanted to throw in the towel; simply march up to Albus Dumbledore's office and announce his resignation. How could he be expected to teach these wealthy numbskulls when they had no desire to learn and held no respect for their half-blood tutor? In his mind, they didn't deserve to be there; they shouldn't be allowed to attend at one of the most prestigious wizarding schools in the world. But, though these entitled children were not worthy of the opportunity presented to them, nor his vast knowledge and counsel, they would always be permitted to remain.
Shouldn't my exceptional talents be put toward more principled, impressive disciplines?
There was no denying that he was a remarkable potions master at his age, having attempted and executed brews that were so dangerous—so difficult—that they could not be included in standard textbooks. He scoffed, slamming down an ampoule of powdered unicorn horn: Though Snape had always been top of his potions classes, Professor Slughorn had never invited him to join his infamous Slug Club—an association of intellectually gifted, affluent or well-connected students he believed would bloom into the leaders of tomorrow. He was well aware that Slughorn formed the superficial club in order to gloat about his connections later in life; however, it still stung not to be included in the club despite his obvious academic endowments. He supposed his exclusion had something to do with his lack of social prowess and pure blood.
Like I would have accepted an invitation to join that group of dimwitted dunderheads in the first place…
The only wizard who had ever recognized Snape's remarkable magical talent had been Lord Albus Dumbledore; yet, even the elderly wizard seemed hesitant to wholly embrace him. When Snape had first requested to work at Hogwarts, he had been denied the position he had initially applied for: Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Even more dazzling than his capacity for potion-making was his propensity concerning his favourite subject, Defence Against the Dark Arts. There was no denying his skill: He had received top marks in the field, ranking high in the famed International Dueling Games during his seventh year at Hogwarts and even pioneering some spells of his own imagining. Nevertheless, Dumbledore had not awarded him the position, instead appointing him Potions Professor.
His yearning to become Defence Against the Darks Arts Professor was only matched by his bitter disappointment at being denied it. Though he had accepted the Potions position—an alternative which meant he could live at the only place he had ever considered home—he was resentful of Dumbledore's ruling, unable to pinpoint the logic behind it. Snape had been clandestine concerning his decision to understand the very art he was studying to defend: dark magic. How better to recognize how to overcome the dark arts than to practice dark magic? He'd done so quite diligently for years; pilfering books from the 'Restricted Section' of the library during his Hogwarts days and practicing in empty classrooms at night; furtively maneuvering Knockturn Alley and experimenting with cursed objects; altering his appearance and slipping into shady pubs located on the outskirts of magical hamlets in order to converse with vampires. Could Dumbledore have become privy to his rather disgraceful behaviour? Snape surmised that if the great wizard had knowledge concerning his felonious activity, he certainly wouldn't have allowed him to teach young, impressionable children. So why, then, did he exercise caution concerning the Defence Against the Dark Arts position?
Everything I have done has been to better myself…in the pursuit of knowledge and comprehension…
As Snape reached the top rung of his rickety ladder his foot slipped, causing the left side of his body to slam into the wooden shelving and shatter one of the items in his cloak pocket. Growling at his gaucheness, he easily slithered to the bottom of the ladder and produced his wand, offhandedly muttering "Reparo." The tip of his wand glowed red as the bottle in his pocket repaired itself. With another flick of his wand, it obediently floated out from its place in his robes and eased into his open hand. Snape turned it over in his palm, reading his slightly smudged, curly cursive on the flagon's label.
Wiggenweld.
Depositing the small bottle back onto its proper shelf, Snape's eyes shifted to the fresh batch of Calming Draught he had prepared earlier that afternoon. As he peered into the copper cauldron to judge the colouring of the potion, he silently wondered how Aurora had managed at the party: Had the Calming Draught he had administered to her provided her with enough confidence to mingle with the multitude of partygoers she so feared? Her admission still surprised him: He had never met an aristocrat afraid of a posh party. Rather, the ones he had encountered thrived in such environments. What could such a beautiful, clever girl like her have to worry about? Her relation to the most intelligent and well-respected wizard in the United Kingdom was enough to carry her through alone.
Snape grit his teeth: The young society men would certainly be tripping all over themselves trying to impress her. They hadn't a clue who Lady Aurora Rockford was or the extraordinary magical talents she possessed—and likely they wouldn't care—but they undoubtedly wanted her for themselves. She had beauty, prestige and a pure bloodline; attributes that amounted to the perfect trophy witch. Snape knew that whichever pompous wizard greedily scooped her up first would likely not allow her to develop her academic interests—a fact that angered him immeasurably. To him, unexploited talent was a terrible crime.
As Snape leaned against the cupboard's ladder, his mind suddenly preoccupied with the erogenous image of Aurora in her purple gown, helplessly begging him for his potion provisions, a piece of pale parchment magically shaped in the form of a bird flitted in through the open doorway and peaked at his ear urgently. Annoyed by the intrusion, Snape snatched up the flapping paper and tore it apart with his long fingers: Who in the castle would send him a memo at one o'clock in the morning?
Severus,
Bring your stores of powdered bezoar up to the Hospital Wing immediately. Dumbledore's niece in critical condition following a venomous sting. Do not delay.
-Madam Pomfrey
Snape's black eyebrows furrowed; venomous sting? Did he read Madam Pomfrey's cursive correctly? What plant or animal in attendance at the Hogwarts Gala could possibly have stung Aurora? Snape's mind buzzed with the incomprehensible probabilities as he glided to the opposite end of the cramped cupboard and extracted a glass phial labelled 'Powdered Bezoar'. In what felt like seconds, he had pocketed the medication and torn out of the dungeons like a deranged bat, flying up the magical staircases and down the third floor corridor toward the Hospital Wing's double doors.
As Snape neared his destination he heard voices hovering in the distance. Slowing his pace, he winced, suddenly realizing whom some the voices belonged to. Before the approaching wizards could stumble upon him, Snape covertly ducked behind Gunhilda of Gorsemoor, the statue of the one-eyed, humpbacked witch, and pulled his heavy woolen cloak tightly around his shoulders. Sinking into the shadows, he secretly sneered at the wizards unknowingly passing him by, carefully attuned to their conversation.
"Is this really necessary, Longbottom?"
"It certainly is, Potter. Wouldn't you agree that the circumstances surrounding your reappearance are just a tad odd?"
"Look, James had no idea Aurora and I—"
"You keep out of this, Black."
"I recommend you watch your tongue, Longbottom. If you think you have any authority over Sirius or I, you are sadly mistaken."
"And Irecommend you check your arrogance, Potter. Neither of you realize the damage you could have done tonight."
"I never thought that a harmless trip to the Ministry—"
"Clearly you weren't thinking, Black. As you can see, your lack of consideration has landed Aurora in the Hospital Wing with burns, broken bones and poisonous stings!"
"Yes, and Ishould be with her! She needs me right now—"
"I'm not letting you get anywhere near her until Dumbledore and I have been given an explanation as to what the hell is going on!"
As the ireful tones of Lord Frank Longbottom, Lord Sirius Black and Lord James Potter gradually waned, the wizards having begun to ascend the magical staircases toward Dumbledore's office, Snape took a brief moment to ponder their strange conversation: What were Sirius and Aurora doing at the Ministry of Magic? How had Aurora received her curious injuries? And why the fuck did that gormless toe rag James Potter think he was entitled to remain at her sick bed? Wasn't Longbottom the one courting Aurora Rockford?
Attempting to brush aside his contemptuous feelings towards James Potter—the pompous prick he had despised ever since his first year at Hogwarts—Snape slipped out from his hiding place and spirited towards the Hospital Wing. As soon as he had thrust open the heavy double-doors Madam Pomfrey was at his side, sweat beading on her forehead and dark crimson stains dotting her hands and arms.
"What took you so long?" the flustered healer declared upon his arrival, immediately leading Snape to a bed concealed by a patterned curtain, located at the end of the stone-walled Hospital Wing.
When Madam Pomfrey pulled back the angora curtain, Snape blenched, the lady he had seen only hours ago—eyes glistening, cheeks rosy, hair shiny and pined back, lips luscious, and ripe breasts swelling beneath a tight corset—much different from the sallow, ailing girl before him now. Her brown hair was loose, curls sprawled across her pillow, and her face was ashen—whiter than the first snowfall of the year. Dressed in a flannel nightgown, the unconscious girl lay motionless in her bed, thick sheets pulled up to her chin.
"What's happened to her?" Snape inquired monotonously, determined to mask his concern.
"Lord Dumbledore said she ventured into the Forbidden Forest with some of the party guests. So thoughtless of them! Lord Black described the accosting creature as an enlarged scorpion—a skrewt, likely. He suffered burns as well but refuses to let me treat him until he has spoken with the Headmaster." Madam Pomfrey clucked in disapproval, gently smoothing what Snape recognized to be bruise-removal paste over Aurora's left cheek, "Quickly now, the ingredient I requested!"
Snape swiftly pulled the phial of powdered bezoar from his cloak pocket and passed it to Madam Pomfrey; she uncorked the bottle and poured the contents into a glass of water, stirring the contents with her wand. Once she was satisfied with the concoction, the healer placed her wand on the bedside table and gently eased the elixir into Aurora's mouth, parting her blue lips to allow the liquid entry. Though Aurora did not stir, Madam Pomfrey seemed pleased by her efforts, visibly calming after she had administered the medication.
"I told Dumbledore that she should be treated at St. Mungo's, but he refused. If you didn't pride yourself on keeping an impressive potions cupboard, I don't know what I would have done…there, her colour should return to her in no time. I expect she'll be fully recovered by morning."
Paying no mind to Snape's attentive, eerily sensual regard for the sick girl, Madam Pomfrey sailed into her windowed-office muttering about sutures and dressings. Reflexively, Snape sank into the chair beside Aurora's sick bed and side-glanced her crowded bedside table. The surface was covered in bottles of varying shapes and sizes, containing rudimentary medications like blood replenishing potions, bruise removal and burn-healing pastes, deflating draughts and Skele-Gro.
That's what happens when you get involved with prats like Sirius Black and James Potter…
Snape grimaced, suddenly feeling a pang of jealousy: Why would Aurora stoop so low as to fraternize with the likes of Black and Potter? He had thought her better than that. She wasn't some common aristocratic trollop who worshiped at the feet of arseholes like them, was she?
Snape tore his eyes away from the befallen form of Lady Aurora Rockford and suddenly rose to his feet. He knew it would not be long before either Dumbledore or Longbottom returned to check on her medical progress: The thought of either of them discovering that he had a soft spot for the girl was too much to bear. With a furtive look toward Madam Pomfrey's office, Snape quickly pressed a clammy hand over one of Aurora's fair ones in a gesture of amity—an emotion that felt foreign to him—before stealthily skulking out of the Hospital Wing and into the contiguous corridor.
It certainly was not the first time James Potter had been called to the bellows of Lord Albus Dumbledore's bureau. Located on the 7th floor, carefully disclosed behind the statue of a pensive-looking gargoyle, was his spacious, circular office. The room was lined with gabled windows which usually provided spectators with dizzying views of the mountains surrounding the castle; however, tonight James could only see stars, the landscape shrouded in midnight. Though the moon was bright and clear, its silver light reflecting on the calm waters of the Black Lake, it provided him no sense of calm.
It had taken James and Sirius almost an entire hour to regale the occupants of the office with their account of events. As they spoke, Dumbledore sat quietly behind his highly-polished desk, tapping his wand thoughtfully on the thickly-papered surface. Still attired in his dress robes and amber rings, he was flanked by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody, two high-ranking Order members who appeared perturbed to be awake at such a late hour. Lingering near one of the windows overlooking the Hogwarts grounds was also Frank Longbottom, visibly stewing in his expensive tuxedo. Throughout James and Sirius' explanation concerning their recent activity and association with Lily, only Frank seemed dismayed by the news; a fact that had not gone unnoticed by James.
What's his bloody problem?
The palpable silence that followed James and Sirius' narrative was filled by snoring portraits, whizzing and whirling silver instruments which occasionally emitted opaque puffs of smoke, and the fussing of a recently reborn phoenix. While Dumbledore contemplated their words, James and Sirius exchanged a private look, both unable to predict the Headmaster's reaction.
"Kingsley, please send a patronus to Remus Lupin. As he is also aware of whom Lily really is, he must be included in this discussion." Dumbledore finally declared, propelling Kingsley to exit the enigmatic office to collect the young werewolf.
Within ten minutes, a humble knock sounded on the office door and in strode a haggard-looking Remus Lupin, his blonde hair long and unkept and his roguishly handsome face lined with freshly-healed scars. When the occupants of the room turned to look at the bedraggled Order member, his eyes widened in quiet surprise.
"Prongs…you're back." Remus commented tranquilly, smiling as he crossed the room towards his Hogwarts friends to envelope him in a brotherly hug, "You had us all worried."
"Not my intention." James replied, gladly accepting Remus' embrace before pulling back to assess his emaciated state, "Rough transition the other night? You look like hell."
"He always looks like hell." Sirius smirked, throwing an arm around Remus' shoulders and giving him a spirited shake.
"Let's just say some of my…kin…are rather uncooperative concerning our campaign." Remus smiled tiredly, regarding his best friends warmly.
"Prefer to communicate with their claws rather than their words, eh? How unruly!"
"Hilarious as per usual, Padfoot. Regardless, it's good to have you back, Prongs." Remus concluded, turning toward Dumbledore and bowing respectfully, "You called for me, Headmaster? Surely you had more than a familial reunion in mind for us all?"
"Quite right, Mr. Lupin. Please, won't you all have a seat? This restless pacing is thoroughly unfurling poor little Fawkes." Dumbledore said softly, referring to the pet phoenix rolling around in its own ashes behind him, "Let me procure some seats."
Without waiting for the group's reply, Dumbledore gracefully waved his knobby wand in a counter-clockwise motion, causing four plush, ruby-red armchairs thick with cushion to materialize out of thin air and scoop up the four young wizards in the room—James, Sirius, Remus and Frank. The alarmed men fidgeted awkwardly in the overly-plush furniture, unimpressed that Kingsley and Moody were allowed to remain pacing behind Dumbledore's desk.
"There, that's more comfortable." Dumbledore smiled knowingly, tucking his wand into the front drawer of his elaborate desk, "There is much to update you on, Mr. Lupin, but before that, I must inform you all about my intentions for our Miss Lily Everard."
"Everard? I thought you said her last name was 'Evans', Prongs?" Remus piped up, ever the one for recalling convoluted details.
"I thought it was…" James trailed off, blankly looking out the window and into the darkness.
"You see Mr. Lupin, Lily's true title is Lady Lily Everard. Her father was Lord Marquis Everard, son of former Hogwart's Headmaster Emmett Everard. Surely you've heard of him?" Dumbledore asked the three dumbfounded boys casually; Frank slouched in his chair, still silently seething.
"The Everards are a famous pureblood family." Sirius pointed out, smirking as he side-glanced his best friend, "Told you your mother would be pleased."
"Lily's a pureblood?" James inquired hollowly, bewilderment illuminating his features.
"Not quite—halfblood." Dumbledore replied calmly, folding his hands in a business-like fashion, "Not that such a thing matters. Her mother was a muggle—a highborn lady named Esmeralda. She and Marquis married a few years before Lily was born."
"Fascinating…" Remus mused aloud.
"An interesting background indeed. Unfortunately, Lily's story is not a particularly pleasant one." Dumbledore continued, turning serious, "Before Lily was born, and around the time Voldemort began recruiting death eaters, Cassandra Trelawney recited a chilling prophecy—one that spoke of a young halfblood girl who would one day vanquish the Dark Lord. Through Karkaroff, the prophecy reached Voldemort and he began to hunt for young witches who matched the prophecy's description."
"You're not insinuating that Voldemort truly believes she is the witch the prophecy speaks of?" James suddenly demanded skeptically, heat rising around his neck, "There are thousands of witches that could meet a seer's description."
"Yes Lord Potter…he believes Lily is the witch the prediction speaks of. The prophecy describes the girl as 'blooming'…like a flower…with startling emerald eyes. Not long after the prophecy, a halfblood infant with the most staggering pair of green eyes was born, named after a flower."
James and Sirius were speechless; it was Remus' probing curiosity and thirst for knowledge that perpetuated Dumbledore's explanation, "How did she escape? We all know that once the Dark Lord has set his sights on something he becomes obsessive—near unshakable."
Dumbledore sighed sadly, "The Everards made great sacrifices for their daughter. First they staged a fire; Emmett helped to perpetuate the story that the little family had perished in an inferno at their manor. He even threw a funeral for them."
"But surely not…?" James sputtered in puzzlement.
"It t'was a ruse, yes. Marquis and Esmeralda abandoned their life, packed up the baby and went on the run, hoping Voldemort had been fooled by their plot…but he had not been fooled. It was a game of cat and mouse, and the couple knew they could not outrun the Dark Lord forever…so they made the ultimate sacrifice. They dropped Lily off on the steps of an orphanage, leaving nothing with her except a locket and a letter instructing that she was to be taught at St. Madeline's when she came of age. They then proceeded to wipe each other's memories…so that when Voldemort finally caught up with them, they could never be compelled to divulge her whereabouts."
The room lapsed into silence; no one seemed to know what to say, prompting Dumbledore to continue, "It was only last month that Voldemort became privy to Lily's whereabouts. The locket her parents gave her acted as a shield for her untamed magic, disclosing it from those who were looking for signs of an undiscovered magical youth. I venture that Lily was experiencing some emotional heartache a month ago—likely a combination of the war and your departure, Lord Potter—and unknowingly smashed her only protection. She managed to evade the deatheaters who came looking for her that night—who we now know to be Wilkes and Malfoy. Before they could apprehend her the next day, Frank, Kingsley and Alastor retrieved her and brought her to Hogwarts to stay with me."
"Malfoy?" James suddenly spat, seeing red, "He came after her?"
"So that's it, then? We have confirmation that Lucius Malfoy is a deatheater?" Sirius queried sharply, his curiosity interrupting James, "Cissy won't be far behind…that'll be two of my cousins who have joined Voldemort's ranks now. I'm sure Regulus will feel simply inspired."
"We'll be keeping a close eye on the 'lot of them from now on." Moody growled from the background, idly playing with a brass instrument located on one of the many shelves in Dumbledore's office.
"So what's your plan, Dumbledore? After everything you've just told me I'm having a very hard time understanding why Lily is being paraded around Hogwarts when she should be in hiding." James demanded suddenly, his eyes intensely focused on Dumbledore, "It's not safe for her here."
"I must disagree, James: Hogwarts is the safest place in the world for her." Dumbledore countered peremptorily, leaning forward on his elbows in order to keenly return James' passionate gaze, "There were a few options I considered for Lily, and the one I chose allowed her the most room to breathe—to live."
"How so?" James insisted vehemently.
"You see, I decided the best way to disguise Lily was to hide her in plain sight—the last place Voldemort would think to look." Dumbledore continued serenely, "He likely believes I have bundled her off to a remote location in order to teach her how to harness her powerful magic; however, I have instead placed her at the heart of high magical society, claiming her as my own niece. This may seem dangerous to you, and it is—this is why the Dark Lord will never suspect it to be true."
"That's genius." Remus declared, causing James to eye him incredulously.
"It's clever, I'll give you that…but how is Lily meant to pull this off? She hasn't been raised a highborn lady…she doesn't know the first thing about magic." James maintained practically, prepared to steal away with his love in tow if it meant her safety; escape to a far-off country where they could live incognito.
"That's where Frank comes into the picture." Dumbledore started slowly, his clear blue eyes determined, "Frank has been teaching Lily about high-born magical society since she arrived at Hogwarts, and Lily has also been receiving countless hours of magical education per day. I must say, her progression has been remarkable thus far."
"And you believe she knew enough to convincingly attend the Hogwarts Gala?"
"Certainly—she was doing a lovely job of it, too, until she left for the Ministry with him." Frank finally spat, his tone slick with acrimony as he glared sullenly at Sirius.
"I already apologized for that…" Sirius mumbled dourly, Remus raising an eyebrow at Frank's divulgence and looking to James questioningly.
"We'll fill you in on the rest of this sordid tale later, Mooney." James replied before resolutely turning back to Dumbledore, "Well now that I have been made privy to this plan, I will take over Lily's training. I can teach her whatever subjects you'd have her learn, and help to acquaint her with the magical aristocracy. This being the case, I suppose we should discuss how Sirius, Remus and I are going to factor into your elaborate ruse: Should we pretend we have all been acquaintances for some time? We will need some explanation as to when Lily and I started courting and how we knew each other previously…"
Frank's face was as red as a radish.
"You are getting ahead of yourself, Lord Potter." Dumbledore interjected gracefully, firmly folding his spindly hands, "We have already begun executing on a plan which achieves Lily's disguise. Of course, had we known that the three of you knew her, perhaps it would have been a different plan…but alas, she has already been presented to magical society on Frank's arm."
James leaned forward disbelievingly, his face wrinkling in bewilderment as he contemplated Dumbledore's words; Sirius and Remus exchanged alarmed looks, both wary of the veins now bulging on their best friend's neck.
"That would explain why I saw them dancing together…" Sirius muttered tensely, watching James' jaw clench tightly.
"Lily and…him?" James sputtered, his eyes darkening with envy as they sharply turned on Frank.
"Is that so hard to believe?" Frank taunted, his anger getting the better of him.
James rose to his feet violently, sending his chair backwards; Dumbledore rose as well, his tone steady, "Settle down. There is no need to get upset. Let me explain the situation."
"If you have laid even a finger on her, Longbottom…" James threatened Frank menacingly, ignoring Dumbledore
"Then you'll do what, Potter?"
"Perhaps I'll remove them."
"I suppose I shall rely on my lips, then."
"What did you say?"
"After all, she didn't seem to protest the last time we kissed…"
James lunged forward, but not before Sirius and Remus could catch his shoulders to prevent him from making a mess of Frank's face.
"You're a fucking liar, Longbottom!"
Dumbledore brandished his wand, swishing it towards the furious lord and sending him barrelling backwards into the squishy chair he had once inhabited, "I will not tolerate this any longer. Alastor, Kingsley, please show Lord Longbottom out of my office. Lord Black, Mr. Lupin, please leave as well; I should like to speak to Lord Potter privately."
Frank stormed out of Dumbledore's bureau without another word, Kingsley and Moody hot on his tail. Before Sirius and Remus followed in the wake of the Order members, Sirius squeezed James' shoulder supportively, flashing the elderly lord an apologetic look on his behalf. When Remus clicked the bureau door shut, conversation ensued again.
"Was that quite necessary?" Dumbledore asked James softly.
His eyes were still afire with emotion: "Is it true? Lily is courting Longbottom?"
"Yes—but for appearance's sake only. I encouraged it; they now have an excuse to be together at all times. This allows Frank the ability to spend a great deal of time teaching her and the ability to keep an eye on her at all social functions and parties. Should she ever slip up on her disguise, he will be there to rectify it. Besides this, presenting them as a couple keeps eager suitors who may endanger our plans far away from Lily. I'm sure you agree that my logic is sound; Frank is instrumental to Lily's disguise at the moment."
"Be that as it may, I'm here now. I can do all of that for Lily—and we will be so much more convincing, as we actually are in love. Do you seriously expect me to stand aside and let Frank strut about society with my girlfriend?" James demanded heatedly, his pulse racing.
"If you love Lily as you say you do, yes." Dumbledore returned firmly, "What would it do to her reputation if she traded Frank for you now? What would it do to her aristocratic disguise? You are clever, James…you know I'm right."
James growled, slamming a fist down on Dumbledore's desk in frustration, "Damn this plan. Finally we are together again, and now we are forced to hide our feelings for each other!"
"We can adjust the plan once we have put some distance between us and the Gala...but for now, this will be your task. If I cannot entrust it to you…your involvement in Lily's protection will have to change. Can I depend on you this time, James?"
Swallowing his injured ego, James nodded his head painfully, Frank Longbottom's injurious revelation about kissing Lily still knotting his stomach uncomfortably: "I would never do anything to hurt her…I will do as you ask."
And I will hate every moment of it.
By the time Lily finally awoke it was late morning. Surfacing from a medically-induced, dreamless slumber, she squinted awkwardly, the summer sun that poured in from the arched window above her wrought-iron bed causing her eyes to protest. Once they had adjusted, Lily peered at her surroundings: She surmised by the rows of pale-green, unoccupied beds and towering rock walls that she was in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing. Though she had never been there before, the space perfectly matched the stale description included in Hogwarts: A History.
Lily sat up and rubbed at her tired, red-rimmed eyes: How had she ended up here? She could vividly recall last night's events—the Hogwarts Gala, the Ministry of Magic, reuniting with James Potter—but what had happened after their fairy-tale meeting? Lily shifted in her sickbed, anxious to get out of the hot woollen gown that uncomfortably clung to her figure and determine where James had disappeared to.
I thought he'd be here with me…
As she planted her bare feet on the cold stone floor, Lily secretly feared the previous night had been a figment of her overactive imagination; however, as she climbed into an upright position and her left leg spasmed tenderly, she knew the blast-ended skrewts she had battled last night had been all-too real. Biting down on her lip as she fought through the pain, Lily yanked the paisley hospital curtains closed and changed into a clean dress that had been laid out for her over the back of the chair beside her bed. After painstakingly pulling the gown on, Lily impatiently pulled at her rumpled hair to inspect its state, intent on moulding it into a braid in order to tame it. Looking down at her long locks irritably, she immediately noticed its colour: a deep shade of russet.
I suppose my eyes have been changed back to blue as well…
Slipping on a pair of leather shoes, Lily yanked open the curtains, ready to figure out what was going on; she recoiled in surprised when she came nose-to-nose with Lord Albus Dumbledore.
"Out of bed already?" the old wizard inquired lightly, his cerulean eyes stark against the grey backdrop.
"L-Lord Dumbledore!" Lily exclaimed in astonishment, clutching at her beating heart due to his unexpected presence, "I thought I was alone!"
"I'm sorry I startled you; I only just arrived. You have many friends who wished to remain at your side while you slept, but our dear Madam Pomfrey was adamant that you be left alone to recuperate from your injuries. " Dumbledore explained nimbly, motioning for Lily to take a seat on the edge of her bed, "Won't you sit a moment? I should like to talk to you before everyone arrives to inquire about your health."
Lily obligingly sank onto her hospital bed, the springs groaning under her weight as she collected her hands in her lap and flourished Dumbledore with a sheepish glance, "I suppose I do have quite a bit of explaining to do…but…James…is he still here? Does he remain in the castle?"
"I doubt I could have removed him even if I had tried." Dumbledore replied blithely, settling himself into the wobbly chair across from Lily's bed and patting the top of her hand gaily, "My word, such a revelation last night turned out to be. I assure you I am quite taken aback by how smitten Lord Potter is with you, my dear—though I can hardly blame him. You'll be interested to know that I taught Lord Potter throughout his entire Hogwarts career, and I do not believe I have ever seen him so beguiled with any one person."
Lily blushed deeply, a single butterfly fluttering naïvely in the pit of her stomach. Though she was relieved to hear that James was still in the castle, she felt bashful about having to speak to Dumbledore—a wizard whom she respected and felt indebted to—about why she had so recklessly jeopardized his careful plan.
I must seem like just another love-sick school girl…
"Lord Dumbledore…please accept my sincere apology. I know I shouldn't have left the Gala to go chasing after James. I swear I don't usually act so wildly…it's just…for months I thought he was dead. When Sirius told me that he hadn't perished in the war—that we were both of the magical world and there was a chance we could be together again—well, that just wasn't an opportunity I could bear passing up…"
Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, quietly contemplating Lily's words. He looked at her curiously, as if something had suddenly become blatantly apparent to him. With an enigmatic twinkle in his eye, he very seriously questioned: "Do you really love him, too?"
Lily blinked, startled by Dumbledore's fearlessness, before sincerely replying: "Yes…I do very much."
The aged schoolmaster clasped his aged hands together definitively: He did not seem disturbed by her answer, "If that is the case, there is nothing else that needs to be said. I cannot fault your heart for overruling your head. The circumstances surrounding your original encounter and eventual reunion with Lord Potter…well, a wise man once said that we should accept the things to which fate binds us."
Following a short pause, Lily finally mustered the courage to blurt out: "So…that's it then? I'm not in any trouble?"
"No harm done…this time." Dumbledore responded mischievously, affection tinting his voice as he patted Lily's arm in a grandfatherly manner, "Perhaps the venomous sting of a blast-ended skrewt is punishment enough. I would advise, however, that you exercise greater caution in the future, and I will ask you to strictly adhere to any instruction I give you moving forward."
"I promise." Lily replied vehemently, regarding Dumbledore loyally, "Whatever you ask of me!"
"Excellent. There is only one more thing we need to discuss, then." Dumbledore said on the sly, his eyes clouding conspiratorially.
"What's that?" Lily inquired nervously, suddenly uncertain about her unyielding pledge.
Dumbledore smiled sympathetically: "My dearest, please understand that we only just presented you and Lord Longbottom as a couple last night at the Gala. It will significantly besmirch your reputation within high society if you immediately trade his arm for Lord Potter's. Though it is clear to me that you and Lord Potter are very fond of one another, the pair of you must be unquestionably inconspicuous about your feelings. For a time, it is best that you continue to appear on Lord Longbottom's arm."
Lily stiffened, her expression betraying her shock and dismay: Was Dumbledore instructing her to continue to court Frank for appearance's sake? She and James were finally reunited after agonizing months apart, and they were charged with spending their rekindled time separately? Not only did the idea seem unfathomable to Lily, but cruel as well.
"You mean…you mean to keep James and I apart?" Lily echoed feebly, misty-eyed.
Dumbledore squeezed her arm, his wizened facial features compassionate: "Not apart, my dear. In the public eye you may present as friends—good, close friends; however, it is preferable that you have other acquaintances—namely Lord Black or Mr. Lupin—with you at the same time. In private I cannot stop you from being together; but the pair of you must swear to me that—in the name of your protection—you will remain discreet."
This is so unfair!
"How does this charade you'd have us carry out protect me?" Lily countered sharply, the fatalism inherent to her character rearing its defensive head.
"Think of it this way: No aristocrat would ever commit the type of social suicide that you and Lord Potter would so easily disregard in the name of love. I know that social banishment means very little to you—and I cannot blame you for that—but for a typical socialite, it is likened to death." Dumbledore elucidated patiently, taking Lily's hand and sheltering it in his own, "You must do this for authenticity's sake. You did a splendid job at the Gala last night, but this disguise cannot be ensured by one social gathering; it will take constant work to uphold."
Lily frowned, disgruntled by Dumbledore's sound logic. She could not argue with him; she would continue to see Frank publicly in order to sustain her delicate camouflage. Besides Dumbledore's sensibility, Lily imagined that breaking things off with Frank in order to be with James would also humiliate and taint her friend's noble image—something she knew she could not so easily do.
Frank's has been a wonderful friend. I can't do that to him…
"Once we have put some distance between you and the Gala, we will orchestrate a quiet parting and you and Lord Potter can determine what to do from there." Dumbledore continued benignly, providing Lily with a fragment of hope, "Lord Longbottom is aware of this arrangement and has agreed to it for your well-being. I assure you he is doing so quite selflessly."
"And James? What did he say when you told him?" Lily inquired hesitantly, wondering how he had reacted to the news that he would have to share her with another man.
Somehow I don't imagine him being as rational as Dumbledore about the matter…
"Lord Potter…has been rather vocal about his distaste for our plan, though he has reluctantly agreed to it. When I advised him that I would have him escorted from the castle should he disobey, he came around to my way of thinking." Dumbledore tittered gently, though Lily knew he was quite humourless about the issue, "I believe deep down Lord Potter knows it is the right thing to do."
"Perhaps…but you know how stubborn he can be." Lily sighed, smirking despite the newfound inconvenience of their romance.
"It will all work out; you'll see." Dumbledore smiled amiably, suddenly rising from his chair, "Now, shall we open up the Hospital Wing to the rest of your friends? They are all eager to see you in good health."
As Dumbledore crossed the room to thrust open the Hospital Wing's double-doors, Lily's heart began to thump fiercely against the walls of her chest: How was Sirius feeling? How would James fit into the complicated portrait that was her disguised life now? What was Frank going to do when he discovered her feelings for James?
The incessant questions buzzing about in Lily's head immediately vanished when into the Hospital Wing strode James Potter, his pace hurried and deep worry lines etched across his debonair face. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the handsome lord, the feelings that had carried her through her last months at St. Madeline's swathing her like a warm blanket. She rose from her seat on the bed and immediately slipped into her place in his strong arms; the missing piece of an unfinished puzzle. James cradled her head against one of his shoulders, pulling his hands through her silky hair and kissing her forehead tenderly. They remained entwined for a prolonged moment, both blissfully content to reacquaint themselves with the feel and smell of the other. When Lily finally pulled back to stare up into James' russet eyes, he smiled quietly. Though he was glad to be with her, she sensed something was amiss with him.
"Are you alright? I was so worried—Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let me stay by your side. That woman has unbelievable resolve." James recited frantically, looking down at her guilty, "It was torturous waiting out there all night."
"Look at me; I'm perfectly fine now. I wish you hadn't agonized over me—you look like you haven't slept in months." Lily returned gently, stroking his chin as she took note of the dark bags under his eyes and the stubble lining his jaw.
"I'll be sleeping more soundly now that we're together again." James whispered, taking Lily's hand and kissing the top of it.
"Oi! What are Remus and I? Chopped liver?" Sirius sang out from behind James, shattering their loving exchange by suddenly appearing at their side, a customary grin lighting his face.
"Sirius…" Lily breathed earnestly, throwing her arms around his neck caringly; he half groaned, half chuckled in response to her relieved embrace: "How are you feeling? Has Madam Pomfrey treated you?"
"Yes—though I didn't need treatment. She just likes to have her way with me." Sirius jested, releasing Lily from her skin-tight hug, "Looks like she patched you up nicely, though. I told all of these barmy worry-warts that it would take more than a blasted-ended devil to take you down."
"From what Sirius has told us, you put in an impressive effort at the Ministry." Remus Lupin added serenely, side-stepping from behind Sirius to make his presence known to Lily.
"Remus?" Lily questioned curiously, taking in his familiar reedy frame and gaunt—yet strangely alluring—features. There was something wild and mysterious about his existence that Lily couldn't quite place; yet when he smiled to affirm she had identified him correctly, she laughed softly, "You're a wizard too, I see? Nothing surprises me anymore."
"I undeniably am. Might I say, it's lovely to see you again, and in improved health. Perhaps our next meeting won't be in a hospital room?" Remus quipped smartly, referring to the last time he and Lily had met—several months ago when Sister Agatha had pushed her down a set of stairs at St. Madeline's.
"Clearly I have a propensity for attracting trouble." Lily joked wearily, her heart leaping when James stole her attention back by slipping his hand over hers.
"Then it's a good thing you have all three of us to look out for you now." James returned gravely, brushing his lips against her temple, "Sirius in particular has promised to protect you rather than endanger you."
"They are never going to let me live down last night, Lils. They're trying to suck all of the fun out of our lives. You let me know when you've grown bored of safety and you're ready to run away with me." Sirius winked, earning a half-hearted shove from James.
Lily laughed as the three boys continued to banter back and forth, attempting to interject some light into what could have been a very dark situation. She felt contented as she watched them, amused by the playful way they regarded one another; the sardonic retorts and mocking laughter. Though James had not spoken at length about Sirius or Remus to her, something about them made Lily think they had known one another a long time—that their friendship was an old one. The idea of them both comforted her and made her heart ache with remembrances of Roxanne, the best friend she had ever—and likely would ever—come to have.
Clueing out to Sirius' raucous retelling of James' beheading of the Ministry's centaur statue, Lily absentmindedly watched as Dumbledore exchanged words with Madam Pomfrey near the open doors of the Hospital Wing. She squinted as something in the distance suddenly caught her eye; she spotted a tall male figure swiftly departing from the scene, the back of his blonde head gleaming with the morning's sunbeams.
He didn't come to check-up on how I'm doing…
"My dear, I'm sure you're eager to leave your hospital bed for the comfort of your own room. Shall I escort you back to the dormitory? I've arranged for the house-elves to bring you breakfast there." Dumbledore appeared before Lily again, his smooth voice jogging her from her sad musings about her absentee friend, Frank Longbottom.
"No—please allow me to walk her there, Lord Dumbledore." James responded earnestly, his hand instinctually finding the arch of her lower back, "I promise I won't keep her awake long; it'll be straight to bed to rest."
Dumbledore quirked a wry smile, his eyes sparkling as he examined James and Lily from above the curve of his half-moon spectacles, "If you insist. Please don't be long, Lord Potter; an Order meeting has been called for early this afternoon. I should like you to use the time to explain your whereabouts to the rest of our inquisitive group. Lord Black and Mr. Lupin will be joining us as well, of course."
James groaned regretfully, earning a curious glance from Lily, "I suppose I must face them at some point…well alright then. I will meet you in the Great Hall as soon as I've seen Lily to her room."
"Sporting. You will take the day to rest, won't you, my dear?" Dumbledore instructed caringly, taking Lily's dainty hand and kissing it; his white whiskers prickled her skin, "I've informed your instructor that you are unwell."
"I suppose if it's already been decided." Lily agreed affably, though the prospect of being cooped up in her room without James or her tutor to entertain her seemed rather dull.
"We'll be off then. Are you sure you'll be able to walk?" James asked Lily, his voice full of concern, "I could always carry you there…"
"Don't be silly; of course I can walk." Lily whispered shyly, blushing at Dumbledore and waving off Sirius and Remus before allowing James to lead her out of the sterile Hospital Wing and into the adjoining corridor, nattily trimmed with polished suits of armor and thickly-woven tapestries.
Once the couple was safely out of sight, James sneakily pressed Lily's hand to his lips, the kiss lingering on her skin pleasantly, "I thought we'd never shake him…"
"You've been out of Dumbledore's sight for under a minute and you're already breaking his rules." Lily declared, smiling up at her beau quietly, her cheeks flushed with whispered delight, "Surely he bestowed upon you the same speech about being inconspicuous?"
"He asked us to be discreet, love. I know there is magic in this castle, but I hardly think the portraits will snitch on us to the headmaster." James breathed cleverly, his glib, bright eyes like molten chocolate as he stopped to gather Lily in his strong arms, "Unless you care to give them something worth talking about?"
"It didn't take long for that infamous Potter charm to return, did it?" Lily smirked, standing on her tippy-toes to grant him an angelic peck. He grunted happily, though the kiss was fleeting and she began to drag him further down the hallway.
"Your hair and eyes may have changed, but you're that same teasing schoolgirl I made the mistake of leaving behind, aren't you?"
"I completely forgot…" Lily exclaimed in a hushed—if not cautious—tone, her hand self-consciously flying up to her face, "You haven't seen me like this yet…it must have surprised you when you came in this morning."
"I still recognized you, though you look different with brown hair and blue eyes." James said thoughtfully, fingering a strand of Lily's russet hair, "But you know, I don't think I will ever get used to calling you Aurora. I suppose Dumbledore is right on insisting we all get into the habit of calling you that, though…"
Lily looked up at him worriedly, "It's all quite a change, isn't it?"
James kissed her temple serenely, whispering sweetly: "You still look beautiful to me, my darling. Disguised looks, name change, it doesn't matter; you'll always be my Lily."
"With one key difference: magic." Lily beamed, matching James' happy expression, "Now come on, are you going to stall us in this corridor all day? Let's get to my room."
"Why my lady…I would have quickened my pace long ago had I known how eager you were to get me to your room." James grinned roguishly, earning an outraged exclamation from Lily as she released his hand and dove headlong down the hallway.
"What are you doing running? You're supposed to be ill!"
Once James turned the last sharp corner he came to an abrupt halt; standing before the Fat Lady—a portrait he had come to know well during his school years—was Lily, eagerly reciting a password Gryffindor students were informed of at the beginning of each school year. When the portrait swung open and admitted Lily into its gold and crimson belly, James was instantly filled with inexplicable gladness.
"So, what do you think about my new lodgings?" Lily asked lightly, waltzing over to one of the many red-velvet couches in the Gryffindor Common Room and sinking into its bolstering plush, a smile igniting her eyes.
"You never told me you were staying in Gryffindor Tower…" James said softly, his expression jovial as he took in the intimate surroundings: overstuffed furniture, ornate fireplaces and sooty hearths, rickety school desks and chairs, and high, banner-swathed ceilings advertising the unmatched skill of the House Quidditch Team.
"Were you a Gryffindor?" Lily perked up curiously, aware of the nostalgia turning James' features ductile.
"A proud Gryffindor. Go Lions." James winked playfully, closing the distance between them by sinking into the couch beside her, "Sirius, Remus and I were all Gryffindors. Come to think of it, my entire family has been in Gryffindor. I've have some splendid memories in this room…it is by far the best House at this school. Courage; that was our forte."
"I wonder what House I would have been sorted into…" Lily mused languorously, her head drifting to James' shoulder as his arm easily slinked around her back; it was as if they had never been apart.
"Gryffindor, surely. There aren't many young ladies who would so willingly face a blast-ended skrewt." James pointed out proudly, gently kissing her forehead, "I still can't believe what you went through to get to me…that we are finally here, together again. Fate has us firmly in its talons, it seems…"
"I must thank Fate someday." Lily breathed tenderly, the sound of her sultry voice—the heaviness of her lids—enticing James towards her lips. She did not protest when he pressed against her gently, his index finger drawing imaginary hearts on her ticklish neck and his eyelashes brushing against hers.
"I love you, Lily." He murmured in her ear, caressing it sensuously with his tongue.
"And I love you, James." She whispered back melodiously, her body both alive with anticipation and flushed with happiness as the words effortless lurched from her heart and tumbled across her swollen lips, "What are we going to do?"
"Let's not worry about what tomorrow holds. We are finally together; there's no one in the world—not even Dumbledore—who can keep me from you now." James breathed huskily, his voice heavy with ardor and unrequited passion, "I promise I won't leave you again."
Lily's eyes suddenly welled up, the prospect of losing James unbearable to her, "I was so afraid I'd lost you…"
James shrouded Lily in a secure hug, burying his head in her neck and clutching her tightly to him, "We've had enough heartache for a lifetime, my darling. Now is our time for happiness…I promise everything will be alright…you'll see…"
That's exactly what Dumbledore said…that everything will be alright…but will it?
"But Frank…my disguise…I will always have to be in hiding, James. And now you've been incorporated into this fake little plot. That red haired schoolgirl you fell in love with…she's gone. I'm now some blue-eyed heiress…the newest member of magical royalty, by the sounds of it…hunted by a dark wizard intent for my blood due to some untapped magical talent I purportedly have. Don't you see? Everything is different. My life before seemed positively simple compared to this…"
"None of that matters to me, Lily." James vowed once she had finished raving, a stern yet gentle persistence colouring his tone, "You hadn't a clue you were courting a wizard…a wizard who just so happens to be a member of a secret society intent on exterminating said dark wizard…did you? This may be a complicated situation, Lily, but finally we know the truth about one another—and despite the challenges, we can persevere together."
"You have such conviction…" Lily whispered timidly, boring into his eyes as she caressed his stubbled face affectionately, "I wish I had your strength."
"It's all because of you. I have faith now. You and I…I there is more to us than mere coincidence…"
I hope you're right, James—
Before she could convince herself that James Potter's powerful prose was all part of an elaborate, wonderful dream, Lily wrapped her arms around his neck and drank from him passionately, her world crashing around her blessedly.
—but I can't leave it up to fate. I have to take my life into my own hands now…
Author's Note
First off, thank you so much to all my dear reviewers! 200+ reviews for the big reunion chapter—made me so so happy and completely fueled the writing of this chapter! Also a shout-out to all of the lovely readers who joined my Facebook page—all 55 of you are gems! I hope you are enjoying all the little clues and bits of future chapters I've been posting!
So, I plan on dropping a delicious little plot twist during the next chapter, and I'm very excited about it. Let's just say it'll shape the rest of the story from here on out. Exciting stuff, I promise!
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