Hi there all! Well here we have it, the last part of The Lump as it has officially been christened XD It's longer than the other parts because we work up to the climax of Sirius' sub-story and of course we end on a very important cliff hanger. But it's about the Malfoy sub-plot that I want to talk to you first.

First Off: WARNING! DARK MATURE CONTENT! DO NOT READ IF UNDERAGE! Yes I'm insisting but I do think I might have applied it a little heavily in this chapter, (though hopefully still tastefully), even though everything I write comes under the M Rating. Please do not come and tell me you're offended later 'kay? Right, moving on…

This is the first time we've seen the Malfoy's in AOA and to any readers who aren't already aware, these are the same characters from Tears Of Gold. Of course All Over Again is set roughly four years after those events so anything I write will be technically a spoiler for the other story, but I've tried to do it in such a way that it doesn't stop people wanting read TOG. Obviously we learn a lot about what has gone on between Narcissa and Lucius and we know that they love each other; the detailed events however are only vaguely hinted at in the hope that it will leave you all wanting to fill in the gaps ^^ That's the plan anyway. We have a very detailed insight into Lucius and Narcissa's relationship past and present and in that respect it quite fun to write but also very difficult because it means a lot more plot-working-out of Tears of Gold than I usually can be bothered to do for my stories. I'm notoriously impatient and tend to write first and work out the consequences later. ^^ Also we learn a lot about Lucius' secrets than we'll do for a long time in TOG, because of course it's following more Narcissa's thoughts than Lucius'.

Then we move on, back to our favourite couple and of course we're finding out about the past more and more. Specifically here, MJ's family, though not quite the whole story, just glimpses and hints. AND of course it's not QUITE all perfect because of course this is James and Lily and well, I'm just mean like that XD

AND we have the cliff-hanger, one I've been waiting for for AGES! It's been one of the major plot-steps since the beginning of the story lol so to actually get here, it's quite exciting so forgive my squeals XD XD XD

Anyway, must stop babbling,

PLEASE READ, ENJOY AND REVIEW!

Luv y'all

Lili

X x x x x x x x x


In the silence of the brightly-lit, clinical, white-painted room, death seemed to smother all like a shroud of mist.

The man standing with his broad back turned to the door was no stranger to death; he had looked her in the eye many times and dealt her to his victims many more. On the road he walked; she was his companion and his ally; albeit a treacherous one. Never before had he feared her; with each brush he threw himself out over the precipice willingly, mockingly; hers to catch if she willed it so. So far, she had always let him fall.

She was his first love; he had fallen into her intoxicating arms and drowned himself in the wild, glorious ecstasy that accompanied their meetings before his seventeenth year. That first kill had been for his father's approval; the next, the mudblood's pretty whore, had been to prolong that delicious, trembling, feverish sensation as long as possible.

He had had her first. Abraxus had smirked that deadly Malfoy smirk at him, offering the suggestion with gentle simplicity. The words had sunk in slowly; a minute had passed, a minute of blood soaking his white shirt and dripping from his throbbing fingertips. Splatters covering his handsome face, running down his chin almost vampirically, the scarlet too strong, a sickening contrast against the stark white skin. His steel grey eyes wide; stricken and yet fanatical, lost in the horrific frenzy. Then the light had come into them, oddly enough darkening the piercing irises. His head had turned, that phantom stare fixing on the girl barely older than himself, cowering on the tarmac of the deserted alley-way.

It was the first time he'd ever taken a girl by force and that night, in the seductive darkness, under his father's gleaming gaze, he'd discovered in himself such a taste for it that had shocked him even in his semi-madness.

Even when he'd spent himself inside her, when his father had held out the knife wordlessly, when he'd drawn in with relish across her sobbing throat and listened to her final gargling screams; something in his mind cowered in fear at this nightmare he'd let out of himself. A monster with neither restraint nor any vestiges of humanity. And even as he'd dropped the knife, heart pounding with the desperate desire for more, more blood, more pain, more domination, something in him cringed away, in the sudden terrible realisation that he had found his own greatest weakness.

In the five years since that night, he'd never allowed himself to loose control like that again. Every kill, murder though it surely was, had been swift and painless. He would not give in to the temptation; even though it burned his blood every second of every day. In truth he dared not. His self-restraint was rigid; his love for her had made it vital.

Because she had been his greatest temptation of all. As she was still. The need, the desire to break, to crush and to destroy had never consumed him so terribly as in that single moment of setting eyes on her pure, innocent loveliness. If it hadn't been for the old fool's meddling…

The man swallowed, his jaw clenched so tight it threatened to crack asunder. The tension in his beautiful face looked as though it might shatter the glass he was staring through so fixedly.

Yes, that much at least he owed the old muggle-lover. If his demon had not been chained so absolutely, he did not think, no he knew, that her pride mixed with that delicious fragility, would have pushed him over the edge within mere weeks. Never again had he forced a woman; not only because he had no need. The sadist in him slept, uneasily it was true but the pleasures of physical love had been great enough for his younger self to somewhat ignore the crawling desire in him for other's pain. But she had stretched his control and his sanity to breaking point. Too many times, each of them close enough to give him nightmares still. Nightmares of her face, of her cries, that last terrible day when he'd so nearly…

The chill ran down his spine like a premonition and he screwed his eyes briefly shut, in an effort to block the image of her sobbing form, the bruises from where he'd pinned her down, the mark on her cheek from where his hand had, for the first time ever, been allowed to express his rage. Another mistake, one he would never make again and yet should never have been made to begin with. But that day, the truth, the hatred and fury of everything in his world crashing down upon him, Merlin knew it had almost destroyed him completely.

It was the single light in his dark memories that even that day, pushed to the very brink, he had not been able to. With the blood boiling in his veins, anger, hatred and rage of betrayal, lust that had been repressed and denied for so long as to become agony, jealousy that had ached all the more because of the faint tendril of hope. He had had her naked, defenceless and shaking with convulsions, hatred and tears, and her pitiful weakness only made him burn for her even more. Each sob caused his lips to part in panted triumphant, his member throbbing so hard it was a physical agony. Every instinct in him had screamed at him to do it, to punish the bitch completely, to throw her away with nothing, to take everything she had and then kick her back to the piece of shit she obviously preferred.

The moment he realised that he couldn't do it, the knowledge that he'd lost, that he was hopelessly, agonisingly in love with her, it had finally broken him.

It seemed so far away now, but that single instant of mercy was what had brought them here. That single moment was what had kept her from fleeing. Despite all the pain, all the hatred, she hadn't run. Neither to him nor from him. And when he'd needed her most, needed her so badly, she'd made her decision, stepped to his side and had never left it again.

Even now, she knew the danger she ran, every time she took him in her arms. His instincts for cruelty, his pleasure in other's pain, his desire and bloodlust; she knew them all too well. His love for her was like a glass shell, containing the overwhelming darkness within but so terribly, frighteningly fragile. Consciously he would rather die than let any harm come to her; unconsciously, the urge to break her into pieces crawled under his skin every waking moment. Part of her flirted with the danger; she'd always been reckless, always stubborn. But the other, greater part knew that it was precisely the trust she showed in him that prevented the unleashing of everything she most feared. If one day that faith waned, nothing else would keep him from surrendering to it completely.

She showed it to him as they made love, letting him relax just a little of that control, encouraging him to bite, to nip and to take her as he wanted, even enjoying the game of submission they played secretly by night. Trusting him to never let it go beyond, never spill into the daylight hours, trusting in his love to restrain his own baser instincts, the darkness in him that she acknowledged and accepted. And when he'd brutally rode out his own need, he would thank her in the way he knew best, pleasuring her and her solely until sunlight streamed in through the Malfoy green drapes.

He would allow her anything, even brook her defiance and her stubbornness in a way that no self-respecting pure-blood would ever imagine. She offered him her public obedience; he gave her complete private mastery. It was the unspoken contract they had made. She allowed him his dignity and his self-respect amongst his chauvinistic peers; it return she demanded his expressed affection, his trust and his complete honesty. Every sordid act he committed she would demand to know, every murder, every injury she would hear him out in silence before granting him silent absolution and making love to him until the scars and the nightmares faded away for a few sweet hours.

If death was his first love, she was his true one. A tainted love to be sure; too much had gone before, too much hatred, humiliation and hurt for it not to be. Part of them loathed each other still; the control that love gave them over the other was too powerful, too unwanted and too restraining for two such free spirits; they hated it, the bond, the need. Hated the dependence on another being, the frightening truth that each made the other weak and truly vulnerable. In the Dark Lord's service it was unwise to have a weakness and he cursed the fear that filled him every time he bent his knee; not for himself but for her.

The fear. So strange, so vile; for the first time he looked upon death as his enemy. Beside him she seemed to raise a cynical brow. His old friend now turned deadly foe. Because if she took her, with all the spite and jealousy of a spurned and neglected woman, he didn't know what he would do. He fancied he heard his old companion laugh, mocking him, mocking the Great Lucius Malfoy now turned whipped and desperate spouse. It was so ironic. How many wives have you killed Lucius, she seemed to shake her veiled head, how many mothers and daughters and loves have you stolen?

"I will not let you take her." he growled under his breath, and again that ghostly laugh rang delightedly in his ears.


The sound of the door behind him opening made him tense. He hesitated, before revolving slowly on the spot, the faint sneer set firmly in place, his posture oozing arrogance and nonchalance. He would not give the brat the pleasure of seeing his weakness.

De Belle-Isle glided into the waiting room first, hands folded demurely in her lap, the very picture on innocence and a deception that in no way fooled him. His lip curled slightly in intense dislike, despising the intoxicating effect she had on his mind and his libido with just a waft of her perfume. Nothing could exceed his dislike for Veela and their unnatural power of persuasion. Even if the cub was less dangerous that the lioness. He forced his body to remain relaxed, repressing the urge to gape at her impossible loveliness. The days spent in her company had largely accustomed him to her power, but it was still there, lingering, coaxing below the surface. Why else would he have allowed the family turncoat within a hundred miles of her.

The brat himself had developed a height and breadth enough to challenge the term. Lucius allowed his steel gaze to wander nonchalantly over the younger boy, noting his expression of cold fury with malicious enjoyment. He flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his flawless black robes before allowing his full, beautiful lips to curve into a smile of pure mockery.

Sirius met that evil smirk with a clench of vicious rage. To see the bastard standing there so damned arrogantly, as though he wasn't responsible for this, as through he wasn't a fucking murderer, it made his blood boil. Hatred flashed in those forget-me-not blue eyes, hatred and disgust and the desire to kill the piece of shit, to rip apart limp from limb, to clamp his jaws around his throat and tear out the fragile jugular.

"Well well. If it isn't the White Sheep" he lilted sardonically over the syllables. Sirius snarled at him, hand automatically reached into his robes but suddenly Mademoiselle Charis strode forward.

"Assez! You stupid Imbeciles!" she snapped, glaring from one youth to the other, "You are here for Cici, non? Alors le laisse le passer, Diable!"

Malfoy ground his teeth silently as she rebuked and ordered him to let the boy pass, his icy gaze never leaving Sirius' face. Then with a mocking bow he stepped aside, the very courtliness of the gesture an insult.

"By all means, salve your conscience, Black." he rose, the sneer abruptly vanished. His eyes glinted with cold promise.

"Upset her, and you will find yourself extending your stay here…permanently."

Sirius growled, fighting the urge to mangle the bastard's pretty face. Instead his swung on his heel and marched toward the second door, the one to enter the room separated from them by the large window. He wrenched it open, shot one last sneer back at the two occupants and stepped into the ward without a word.


The room was luxurious even for Saint Mungo's. Malfoy was obviously paying through the nose for it. As he should, Sirius snarled inwardly; all of this was his fault! All of it!

It took a few moments to calm himself sufficiently to close the door with slamming it. Sirius' head was thrown back, eyes tightly shut, chest rising and falling as he fought for the control that had never abandoned him. When even his fists had loosened their white-knuckled grip, he finally turned, scared of what he might see.

She was as pale as a ghost, as white as the crisp sheets drawn up tidily under her delicate hands. Lovely as an angel in slumber, with golden curls falling like snow against the pillow. For a moment his brain was puzzled; she look peaceful, perfect and the picture of health.

The smell that assaulted his nostrils told the true story.

Sickness filled every corner of the room, sour and cloying despite the faint fragrance of the many bouquets of flowers decorating both the small table on the left side and the floor around it. It clawed down his throat, turning his stomach. He fought the urge to retch and swayed slightly as he stepped silently closer until he stood, torn and at a loss by the side of the bed.

His first glance had been deceptive; the smell had warned him of that, but not even the vile odour of death could have prepared him for the sunken hollows that made up her features. Her lids were purple bruises, set into dark shadows so deep and so heavy they could have been black eyes. For a moment he thought they were, and he was half-turning to go and punch the life out of the son of a bitch when the more rational part of his brain pointed out the matching shadows under her cheekbones. Her lips were dry and cracked, so pale they were almost bloodless. But that was to be expected, he registered blankly, she had suffered a miscarriage, losing so much blood they had feared for her life. Pints of it, now staining the Malfoy Manor floor. Regulus had said she was six months gone, that after a number of false alerts the pregnancy showed promise. Hah!

His snort of derision rang louder than he'd expected and a look of something a little like guilt twisted his handsome face as a movement from the bed brought his gaze snapping round.

Narcissa was stirring. Sirius couldn't move, simply stood there frozen as little by little she returned to the world of the living, her long lashes blinking blearily with the lingering vestiges of sleep. As the world began to make sense, she became aware of someone standing at her bedside, and with a wince at the effort even such a simple movement took, she managed to shift her body slightly to angle it upwards towards the visitor

"Lucius…" she mumbled, before her tired eyes began to focus and as they did a light frown creased her brow in confusion.

"Sirius…?" bemused, unconvinced, as though wondering whether her mind was playing tricks on her. Sirius racked his throat for saliva, but finding none, his reply came out as a tense croak.

"Yes."

A faint smile lifted her lips as she gazed blearily up at him,

"You've grown."

It was such an random, gentle comment that Sirius was at a loss. He stayed silent, hoping reverently that she would begin to regain her wits. She did so, memory began to return and her frown deepened accordingly

"What are you doing here?" she asked, eyeing him in a mixture of confusion and concern. "Wait a minute,…does Lucius know, you didn't fight with him…?"

"He knows."

But she was waking up fully now, and she had never been slow of thought. Her cobalt blue eyes narrowed at him, and she said with her old frankness

"He can't do. You're alive." she said flatly

Part of him almost laughed, the other part plunged deeper into anger, hating the open acknowledgment of her husbands murdering ways. It was the rage that won out, and he snapped coldly back

"Oh, I'm sure that his death-eater buddies are probably on their way."

Immediately her expression closed up, retreating behind her public face, behind her dignity and pride.

"I'm sorry, was there a reason for your visit?" she inquired coldly, as though dealing with a rude guest at one of her weekly galas. Sirius struggled with his temper for a moment and only when he had it tightly under control once more did he take a deep breath and answer.

"Yes."

He exhaled through his clenched teeth. Narcissa regarded him silently, her expression still haughty but in her eyes, a sad understanding flickered.

"You don't have to." she said softly.

Sirius finally raised his eyes to her face. They burned purple-black with the all-too-familiar strangled madness that recently seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her sister's fierce gaze. His expression was as torn as his heart and mind, twisted between too many emotions, hatred and guilt the two foremost. Narcissa felt something in her chest convulse, remembering that look, that wild, trapped stricken gaze. The past reared up like a tidal wave between them, shared hurts, old sufferings, unspoken grudges and thanks alike.

"I do." the words broke in the silence, in his convulsing throat, "I never did."

Her lips curved into a faint half-smile.

"Neither did I." she hesitated, the smile becoming just a touch more rueful, "We're not very good at thanks in our…"

"You are not my family!"

The denial was sharp, fierce and instinctive, spat from his lips with years of practise. For a moment he almost looked guilty but Narcissa didn't flinch, nor did the smile waver. She nodded a little sadly, the look in her eyes was more affectionate than insulted. There was a long silence, that neither made the effort to break. Then he made an odd movement, a strange shudder going through his entire frame.

"I have to say it. I think it'll drive me mad if not." he turned away from his glaring at the flowers on the opposite side of the room, and came closer to the bed, until the two cousins were mere inches apart.

"Thank You."

Stiff, unwilling and yet Merlin knew how heartfelt. Narcissa held that painful gaze and bowed her head slightly.

"And I thank you, you and the others. Especially James Potter. Tell him for me. That I haven't forgotten."

Sirius nodded, a curious lump in his throat somehow preventing speech. Then he struggled to his feet, with a haste that could have almost been rude if the object of the rudeness had not been smiling with such rueful comprehension. He stood as straight and rigid as a poker, his fiery gaze once more boring a whole into the white plastered wall. The girl in the bed was also lost in her thoughts, a faint smile on her lips as she stared at her hands, as though considering their pale fragility.

"I never understood."

Narcissa lifted her gaze to his face, curious and wistful, she waited for him to continue.

"I was too childish. Too proud to see. I hated you, for offering to do it. Liking it. Enjoying it. I didn't see the truth until you…"

Understanding gleamed, her lids fluttered closed as she sighed inaudibly.

"We were all children. You hated me as I hated Bella and Bella hated Andy. But it didn't matter; I knew, as they did, that the truth would come, in time. And as for enjoyment…" her half-laugh rang out cynically, "None of us enjoyed it. No," she said as he made to sneer, "Not even Bella."

His mouth snapped shut; Narcissa glanced at him before looking down at her hands again sadly.

"She adored you, you know. Deep down, I think she still does."

The tall youth snarled, his rage and hatred too great for words.

"She couldn't accept it. That we'd lost you. Didn't want to admit that you deserved better."

"Stop…talking….about that bitch." he swung suddenly on his heel, his beautiful face seething with loathing and fury.

"She was one of the ones who attacked the train, did you know that? That she tortured three children? Tortured them while laughing! That she asked Regulus to round any muggle-born first years he found into that last carriage! And he did it, the stupid fool! He and Crouch!"

Narcissa stayed silent, pain creasing her lovely face, the horror in her eyes obscured by the pale bruised lids.

"Dammit Narcissa!" his hands were balled into fists, his teeth bared, his eyes flashing with either tears or rage.

"You shouldn't be here! You're…you're not like them! Why do you pretend to be?"

Her eyes flashed open and her voice was cold as frozen steel.

"Enough."

He broke off, they stared at each other in silence, tension rippling throughout the room, cracking, sparking. The woman in the bed took a deep breath.

"Leave Sirius. Leave…and don't come back."

For a split-second she saw the hurt fill his expression like water. Then, just as she'd intended, his face closed up, the doors slamming shut with iron chains. The sneer curled his lips, only contempt flickering in those beautiful eyes she'd always envied. She could see it, the last shards of hope shattering and dying a cruel death. As it had to be. However painful, however cruel, Merlin knew it had to be this way. He mustn't be dragged back into the darkness, not even by his own conscience. She hadn't freed him for this.

Sirius, the boy who once upon a time had been her favourite little cousin, gave a stiff nod. Then he swung on his heel and marched out of the room without looking back.


For a few minutes the private ward was silent, as she waited patiently for him to come. And he did, just she'd known he would, striding into the room with all his natural swagger. Her eyes were closed, her golden head laid back on the pillow but he marched to the bedside and waited too; he knew she did not sleep.

With a sigh, she shifted and turned towards him, meeting his harsh steel gaze with that same, faint smile. He did not return it; she hadn't expected him to. But she and she alone could pick about the tiniest softening in those eyes that glared so icily down at her. The sneer was evident in his voice when he spoke, but they both knew how much of an act it really was

"Well, ma'am. Did you withstand temptation or has your Chevalier simply left in search of a stretcher to bear you away?"

Her lips lifted, and the spark of mischief in her eyes turned the smile into something resembling her old, mischievous grin.

"And Thou art the dragon, Lucius?" she teased, finally allowing her hand to reach out for him across the gap. After a moment's hesitation he took it.

"Rather the devil; does the Veela not call me Diable?" he said sardonically.

Her face clouded briefly, he cursed inwardly and sought for another topic of conversation.

"Your cousin would have the babe as the dragon, I believe. My way of keeping you locked in your tower. No doubt he is relieved at your freedom from it."

The words were as ever laced with that faint undercurrent of sarcasm Lucius Malfoy was famous for, but only his wife could pick out the bitterness hidden deep beneath it now. She gripped his hand as tightly as her weakened strength would allow and the pressure made him bring his gaze obediently back to hers, the sneer still curling his lips. Narcissa ignored it, her expression suddenly worried and unsure

"I will give you a child, Lucius. Please…have faith in me."

Lucius stared into her huge, intensely blue eyes, reading the silent message there. Do not divorce me, she was whispering, pleading. And in pureblood society he would have grounds to do so. The healers had admitted her chances of ever carrying a child to term were slim and a barren wife was as useless to the Malfoy line as a squib heir. Many other men would be seriously considering the question, he knew, as did she. His handsome face darkened, the beautifully carved features sharpening in anger.

"Don't be a fool." he enunciated coldly. Her eyes widened with shock. It only served to enrage him further, and his tone was icy as he continued.

"We will not try for another child until you are fully recovered, be it weeks, months or years. I will not lose my wife to gain a son."

So much that was left unsaid nevertheless was understood in those two simple lines and Narcissa's face turned peaceful once more as she leant back against the pillows. She stole a glance at her husband through her lashes, and his expression of distain brought a laugh to her lips. His eyes flashed, he made to pull away but she tightened her grip on his hand, leaving him the choice of either pulling harder and perhaps toppling her from the bed, or staying where he was. His full lips set into a grim line at her trap, but he made no further movement, not even when that naughty, knowing grin slipped out again.

The minutes passed in a sweet silence and the scene would have astonished any unsuspecting onlooker. Lucius Malfoy was not generally considered the man to sit by his wife's bedside rubbing gentle circles over her hand. He did not smile; that dazzlingly angelic beam was a tool to deceive and dissemble rather than any true expression of mirth. Instead his face was closed, his eyes resting on his wife's face, with an intensity that denied the seeming boredom of his posture. And after a while she spoke again, drowsily, as she wavered on the verge of sleep

"Thank you."

"For?" he said caustically. Narcissa settled more comfortably into the pillows, her eyes drifting shut.

"Not hurting him."

Lucius was silent for a moment, before replying quietly.

"I do not break my word. And now my angel, it is time to fall…"

Her lips lifted at the old, familiar words. His curved upwards for the first time as he pressed her palms to them, one after the other.

"…asleep."


Somewhere in the distance a clock chimed, it's melodic toll indicating the lateness of the hour as surely as the fading light as the sun made its weary way towards the shadow of the forest that made up the horizon. The boy lounging peacefully on the swing in the centre of the ornamental garden stirred and turned his head away from the bleeding sunset. He settled back against the rough texture of the painted wood, his foot resuming the leisurely push against the grass it had abandoned some time earlier, causing the swing to rock gently back and forth once more.

The girl in his arms sighed in her sleep and clung to him a little tighter. James smiled, an odd mixture of triumph and rueful amusement, as he reached up to thread his fingers amongst her startlingly vivid tresses. They seemed to match the gold and crimson rays that merged across the sky and he wrapped one lock around his index admiringly, before leaning back and staring up at the dying day with a faint sigh of contentment.

The day had gone perfectly, perhaps too well for the hours had slipped by like minutes. They had danced till their legs had given way beneath them and then picnic-ed under the tree's on the feast that Mrs Flipsy, bless her, had prepared. They'd laughed and talked and bickered and laughed some more until the grounds had echoed with Lily's light-hearted giggles and his deeper chuckles.

He had taken her to the stables and introduced her to the pegasi and the horses, grinning as she cooed over each and every one, even his Dad's formidable chestnut Aethonon, Sylvester, not that he told her so. The Head Groom Riddian and his many underlings had been given strict instructions concerning their visit and thankfully, besides the odd grin or wink, none of them made the mistake of calling him "Master". The presence of Salamanca and Cloud also had to be explained to his love's satisfaction, a feat that used up all of his ingenuity. Finally however Lily had accepted that the majestic black stallion and the pretty grey mare did indeed belong to his mother, but that the owner of the Manor housed and cared for them due to his parents being rarely at home, and made no further demur, simply delighted to see her old riding teachers again.

Cloud was equally pleased to see her and demonstrated her joy by making know her wishes to be taken out for a ride most forcefully. James had always preferred brooms to horses but no one could resist the pitious appeal in those huge emerald eyes and so he had agreed, praying to God that his mother never found out that he had saddled and mounted her horse.

Salamanca was at his most docile, much to James' relief as he placed the bridle over his head, and seemed pleased for a chance to stretch his legs. Of course he should have known better. Scarcely were they out of the stables when the magnificent animal launched into a full-pelt gallop and the boy astride him could only be thankful that over two years without practise had not diminished his horsemanship. Once Salamanca had rode out his energy, James pulled him back round and cantered back to where Lily was watching with awed eyes. He'd brought the black horse abreast of Cloud and they had ridden over the grounds for another exhilarating two hours.

Later, having handed the two horses over to Riddian, James had taken Lily to see some of the ornamental gardens, including his favourite, the one they were now sitting in. James stretched his legs out lazily, smirking a little as he remembered that particular triumph. Lily had fallen in love with the mini-maze just as he'd know she would. The swing they were sitting on was at the very centre of the knee-high hedges and he'd told her stories of how much he'd loved finding his way through in his younger years, on visits of course.

James grin twisted a little ruefully. After all his commands to the servants, he'd been the one to slip up the most today. It had been so easy, losing himself in the childhood memories to forget that Lily wasn't supposed to know he'd lived here all his life. She would be stunned, even troubled by such unfathomable riches. She knew of course that he had money, the entire Wizarding world knew and envied it. But the sheer size and scope of the fortune was something the Potter Family did their best to keep out of the public eye. James was society's most eligible bachelor without correcting people's already huge expectations.

There had been so much he'd had to hold back today. So many times he's had to bite his tongue and pull back the recollections or family jokes hovering on his lips. There was a huge amount she didn't know amount him, and whole lot more she'd never guess about his family.

Just like when she'd asked about the music.

If she'd asked for the name of the composer, she would have recognised it immediately. Who wouldn't? It was created by the Greatest Wizarding composer this century and bookworm as she was, Lily would have come across the name a hundred times in her studies. Most people would never make the connection with his family; his mother's maiden name was a closely guarded secret and had been for years, for reasons he'd never really found out. But Lily hadn't met MJ Potter; she'd met only Moniqua Monroe and he was sure that, if the name Cicero Sonatra Miguel Monroe was ever uttered in her presence, clever as she was, she would pick up on it immediately.

The thought of his Grandfather brought a slight pang to James' chest. It had been five years now since his death, six since Mami had gone before him. As James sat there, swinging the seat lightly back and forth, he couldn't help but wonder what they would have thought of Lily. His gazed dropped to rest on her copper head, still nestled into his shoulder, and he briefly pressed his lips to her hair before straightening up once more.

Mami Marie would have adored her, he was sure. She would have had them dance together, clapping and tapping her foot to the world-widely famous music, while Grandpere would smoke his pipe, grumbling in his armchair, but nevertheless watching with a eagle-eye under his brows for the even smallest fault. Mami would smile lovingly, shaking her head before telling them to ignore "the old man", "he knew nothing and start again." because if anyone was the judge on dance it was Mami Marie.

The story was still his favourite, and James tilted back his head, eyes closed and his mother's, warm, spanish tones echoed in his mind, lulling him to sleep as they'd done all those years ago. Even now he remembered it word-perfectly, the rebellion, the treachery and the flight. The return many years later, the thirst for vengeance, and then every plan undone by a girl's ability to dance and to steal away a heart.

The last of the all-but-forgotten Ronaldo line smiled a little ruefully, and stroked his love's head. Would he ever find a time to tell her the family legends? Would she whisper them one day to their own children, only in English rather than Spanish, with a little French dropped in here and there to bring the words alive. Would they ever take their offspring to his other homelands, drag them up the Pyrenees, chase them along the Mediterranean coast, dance to their Great-Grandfather's music until night came, the Spanish sun slept and the stars danced along with them.

He hoped so. But who really knew.

Lives were lost so easily in war, and secrets and memories with them.


As the sun sank below the tree's the temperature dropped noticeably. Lily had changed out of the magical ball gown and into her own clothes before embarking on their outdoors adventure, but even the black jumper and jeans couldn't quite keep out the chill. She shivered slightly, and buried her face into the warm chest and the arms around her tightened immediately. Blinking blearily, she lifted her head to find James grinning down at her, his teeth very white and even in the fading daylight.

Lily returned the grin a little sheepishly.

"How long was I out for?" she asked, sitting back away from him to stretch her arms over her head with a yawn. James smirked.

"Hmmm only about two hours; at least that's how long the snoring lasted." he teased and Lily eyed him balefully.

"I do not snore." she announced with a sniff, "And you will not provoke me into arguing about it."

James opened his eyes wide and nodded obediently, the very picture of innocence.

"Of course not." he agreed meekly, "It must have been the pegasi snorting. Sound carries incredibly far over the grounds." he blinked at her with bright beaming smile and despite her best efforts the silly expression tugged her lips upwards in answer.

"Idiot." she shook her head at his smirk of triumph and settled down back into the warmth of his arms, her head resting comfortably on his broad shoulder.

James let that pass, the smirk still floating cockily on his lips, and resumed playing with the long strands of red hair blowing and tangling in the slight wind. He began to swing the seat once more, so that it moved gently back and forth and Lily was closing her eyes when his voice, low and curious made her turn her head to look up at him.

"How do I score then?" her creased brow betrayed her confusion and he explained, grinning down at her teasingly

"As a date. Good enough to get a second?"

Lily broke out into a loving smirk, tilting her head to the side consideringly. He waited, still smiling down into her pretty face, enjoying watching the way her nose crinkled and her teeth pulled on her lower lip as she thought it over. Then her bright green eyes flashed back to his.

"Hmmm, a little…unoriginal." she shrugged.

James' jaw dropped. Lily choked and burst into giggles at the pure indignation on his face, the way his mouth hung open in very un-sexy disbelief. After a moment the expression disappeared, it's place a dark look of determination that had her eyes sudden widen in fear,

"James,…"

James' lips stretched into his most evil smirk and suddenly he was tickling her unmercifully, brown fingers racing up and down her wriggling sides until she was almost screaming for forgiveness.

"STOP…please, NO!" again laughter overcame her and she tossed and turned in his grip, trying to escaping, shaking with helpless giggles.

She could feel his chest vibrating with low chuckles. Her fingers snatched wildly at his t-shirt, pushing him away and at the same time clutching at him helplessly, causing the smooth black material to ride up over his abs and stretch down at the collar. In the end it was this that saved her. Unable to bear any more damage to his already torn and hastily repaired old favourite, James stopped his assault to remove her grip before the shape was stretched out of all recognition.

He shot her a mocking frown, carefully fixing the t-shirt back into place while she recovered her breath, cheeks still flushed, hair mussed and streaked across her face. Staring up at him from his lap, chest heaving, the silly smile still just touching her mouth, she looked ridiculously desirable and before he could stop himself he had bent down to quickly capture her parted lips.

She returned the kiss readily, small hands slipping up to tangle in his shock of hair, using her arm around his neck as leverage to pull them closer. He could feel her smile and a moment later her pink, pointed tongue ran tantalisingly over his lower lip. He grinned at the unspoken challenge and took the hint, pushing he lips roughly apart and exploring her mouth with a deep, contented male growl.

Tongues battled and danced, their grip on each other became more frantic, more frenzied, until somehow he could feel her fingers ghosting over his back, teasing up his chest, everywhere at once in a way that was making his skin burn and sizzle with heat. His own hands were equally pleasurably occupied but such was her effect on him that it took him a few seconds to remember where they had roamed to whilst his brain had apparently decided to go on holiday. He found them fiercely engaged in working to unhook her bra-strap, the other hand enthusiastically squeezing her breast through the material.

Shock and sudden overwhelming guilt made him almost drop her, and Lily gasped in surprise and made a grab for him to save herself from tumbling to the grass. A half-laugh was on her lips but the overriding emotion was confusion, and she blinked up at him in bewilderment. James wouldn't meet her eye. She lifted a brow and sat up on the swing beside him, crossing her legs with a huff and an expectant looked. And there she waited.

James' head was thrown back, his eyes shut and his swollen lips muttering things to fast for her to catch. He was obviously berating himself, knowing him for his lack of self-control. Lily pouted impatiently; her love was seriously starting to irritate her with his noble intentions. Her arms folded grumpily, she glared at the pretty flowers around them as though the rejection could be laid at their door. Eventually James stopped insulting himself and turned to face her, his handsome face the picture of remorse.

"I'm sorry Lils. I shouldn't have let it get that far. When it comes to you my brain seems just to fly out the window but I will, I WILL keep my word, I swear."

To his surprise, instead of being gratified at this manly pronouncement, his love raised clenched fists to heaven and exhaled in frustration.

"ARGHHH!"

James flinched back in alarm before very quickly resuming his previous position with a frown at himself for being so damn whipped. Pansy, a voice in his head mocked. James growled and put on his most nonchalant smirk, lifting his chin and lounging back lazily. Then the look on Lily's face chased all thoughts of his ego and endangered manliness out of his head.

His love's eyes were spitting sparks at him and even on her pretty face, the expression was so murderous as to make him gulp, pathetic or otherwise. Sirius could try facing that look; they'd soon see who was whipped!

The tiny redhead was sitting rigidly upright, glaring at him as though he just announced his intention to join Voldemort. Her small index finger suddenly bounced off his chest, hard enough for his hand to come up and cover the painful spot reproachfully. Lily ignored his pout with all the contempt it deserved.

"James…Henry…POTTER!"

Damn, he knew he shouldn't have told her his middle name… AIE!

"Enough with the poking!"

"This is getting ridiculous!"

James glared at her sulkily but the look that usually couldn't fail to drag a grin out of her had no effect today. Lily looked ready to kill; the treacherous, very dumb part of his brain wondered if she had her…you know, things! James shoved the thought quickly aside, guessing quite correcting that his love would possibly object to such an assumption and he did his best to look innocently bewildered.

"What?"

Inwardly he rolled his eyes. SO eloquent, Prongs!

"THIS! This running away with your tail between your legs every time we get even CLOSE to each other!"

James stared at the seething redhead blankly. Then he snuck a glance down at the area in question that hadn't quite settled back down again, eyeing it in confusion.

"Muggle's call it a tail?" he hazarded, all at sea. Lily's hand slapped into her face, and her lips formed an "o" as she breathed out and forced herself to remain calm and collected.

"No, just…what I mean is…" she frowned at him, her expression suddenly more serious. A flicker of hurt lurked in the back of her green eyes and it was this that suddenly brought James' mind fully to attention. His brows lowered in worry, already threatening himself with bloody murder for whatever he'd done, whatever he'd said to bring that look of disappointment into his love's eyes.

Lily stared at her crossed legs for a moment, and the boy in front of her waited, his gaze fierce and intense and fixed on her face. When she finally looked up, it was with a shyness that surprised him all the more. Her teeth chewed on her lower lip, a sure sign that she was uncomfortable, and when she spoke the words came out in a rush

"You're…allowed…to touch me." Lily blushed bright pink, fingers gripping the fabric of her jumper tightly. She peeped up at him through her lashes, unsure of his reaction but the sudden closed look on his face made her frown in exasperation. Shyness was forgotten, for Merlin's sake this was the twentieth century and if she wanted her boyfriend to feel her up she would bloody well tell him so!

"I love you!"

She dropped her hands to the seat before her, leaning forward earnestly, her brows still frowning in irritation at his making her say the words.

"I love it when you kiss me, I love it when you touch me, James! I want you! There, I said it! My Grandma is probably turning in her grave right now but, so be it! It's true! I want you, you want me! And don't you dare insult me by trying to tell me that you don't, the truth was poking me in the back not five minutes ago! What is there it that that's so complicated?"

James's face was completely expressionless, impassive. Sirius could have told her that this mask was inherited, a defence mechanism against those he loved to well to hurt with either his wand or his biting sarcasm. In truth it proved just how much he cared for her, that he forced himself into lock-down rather than lose his admittedly nasty temper and say something he would later regret. Finally he spoke, in a low tone void of any emotion.

"I told you, I'm not going to do this while we're not…defined. While our relationship isn't defined."

It was cold, almost clinical and it immediately set her back up even more. She unconsciously moved away from him, her chin lifting defiantly, a militant spark in those emerald eyes.

"So you're telling me this is just blackmail material? Until I give in and go back out with you?"

James turned his head, his mask cracking slightly under the lash of her half-mocking, half-bitter tone. Part of him knew she was deliberately winding him up, trying to make him lose his temper and his control, but it was working. He ground his teeth, trying to push aside the anger and resentment flaring up at her unfair words.

"You do have a low opinion of me, don't you Evans. Any attempt I make to treat you with respect has to have an ulterior motive! Anything I do to try and convince you that I changed only damns me all the more! I just can't win with you can I?"

He jumped to his feet, standing with his back to her with his fists clenched and held forcefully at his sides. His white, even teeth were gritted so hard they threatened to grind away to nothing, his hazel eyes had darkened to treacle, flashing dangerously with rage.

Lily followed him stubbornly, arm's still folded across her chest, ignoring their difference in height and the disadvantage it put her at. She glared at him just as fiercely; she was SICK of this, sick of getting everything she wanted only to have it pulled away at the last second! Sick of him making her doubt herself! She knew he wanted her, but Merlin! any girl would agree that the rejection when he pulled away still stung.

It wasn't reasonable or logical! Somewhere in the more rational part of her brain, a voice pointed out that he was being noble, and mature and respectful. He was trying his best to win her forgiveness and prove that she wasn't just another conquest. So yes, she was being unreasonable; did he think she didn't know that! But still, the frustration every time he left her hanging, every time his lips seemed to promise what they wouldn't afterwards fulfil.

"I want you to respect me! I know that you do! But I also…Merlin James, I've thought about you every night ever since we…we fell apart! I've wanted you , every night, even though I hated it! Even though I hated YOU, it still didn't stop me thinking of how you kissed me, touched me,…."

She trailled off a little bittterly. She hadn't been like him, shagging girl left-right-and-centre for the past year; all the desire, the longing for him she'd locked up, eating her up inside like a cancer. She couldn't even think of any other boy touching her like that; it had to be him and that knowledge alone bothered her. And the fact that he didn't seem to have the same problem had made the pill even more bitter to swallow.

He read her thoughts as though they were written on her face, the ones that hurt her the most all too audible despite their being left unspoken. Frustration, guilt, shame, they all mixed together and made him spin round and face her. With an expression so dark, so intense Lily almost cringed away, he locked their gazes and said almost cruelly

"Right, lets play this cards on the table. You want the truth, Lily? Of course I fucking want you!"

He was close enough to touch, and dangerous enough to fear.

"I've wanted you since the first time I snuck into Prefects' Bathroom for a laugh and ended up trapped there watching you get fucking naked in front of me! For the past year every girl I slept with I had my eyes shut! Because if I didn't imagine it was you I couldn't even get it up! I wanked to you, your photo, your memory whatever! on average between once and five times a day! Even when I loathed you more that Voldemort himself it was bloody torture just to walk past you on the way to class and NOT throw you against the wall and fuck you till you screamed for me to take you back!"

She was pale in the fading light, his eyes flashed like forest fires.

"Just having you near me makes me want you more than I've ever wanted any girl in my life! And the more we touch, the further we go, the more damned difficult it is to stop!"

A bitter smile half-twisted his lips, he cracked out a laugh.

"When you walk down the hallways in your little skirt, smiling at every one who passes, watching them ogle you as you leave! Knowing that I can't slam their faces into the wall or hex them till they can't see straight! When Mick, or Snivellus sit there drooling at you down their shirts, and I CAN'T punch them in the face for even thinking about MY girl that way! And then we get back to the common room and you smile and look like perfection itself, dammit Lily, it's all I can do not to drag you to my room and never let you out! So that they can't look at you, can't see you, can't have you!"

The anger was gradually seeping out of his voice, giving way to frustration, even weariness.

"Want you? I want you so much it scares me, Lils. So much that if I don't do something….some kind of control, I'd end up treating you like one of those dammed blow-up dolls the muggles use when they can't get any action,….and I WON'T do that!"

His jaw was set in stone, his expression so unyielding, so dangerously determined that at first Lily could only nod dumbly. James' face relaxed a bit, his words coming more easily.

"Just try to understand me on this. I want to do this the right way; like we did last time only without my major fuck-up at the end. Courtship, relationship and then sex! Just for a change." he quirked a little grin. "Every other girl I just skip one and two and go straight for three."

Lily sniffed, unimpressed by this modest and sensitive pronouncement, however true it no doubt was. She eyed him with a look of dislike, annoyed by the fact that he seemed likely to win this argument. In a last ditch attempt however, she stuck out her chin and said warningly

"I do, sort of understand your very twisted reasoning," she said reluctantly, "However…!"

James narrowed his eyes warily, mistrusting the expression of mischief fighting its way through her unsuccessful attempt to appear innocent.

"However…?" he prompted guardedly. Lily smile was sweeter than honey.

"However, what silly rules YOU choose to impose upon yourself, in no way has any effect what I do or don't do, correct?" James, glared at her in dawning comprehension of where this was going but she continued blithely without letting him speak,

"Therefore I think it only fair to warn you now that I will be doing everything possible to persuade you to…rethink your stance on this argument." she ended with the Potter smirk and little triumphant lights dancing in her eyes. James groaned. Lily crowed merrily.

"We'll see how long it takes for you to crack!" she winked at him, lips quivering in an effort not to burst out laughing. James tilted his head to the side, his trademark smirk tilting up the corners of his mouth consideringly,

"That, Evans, sounds suspiciously like a challenge." he said, an answering gleam in his eye.

"I suppose it does, doesn't it." Lily's laughter sparkled like sunlight on water. "Why? Is the Great James Potter not up for a challenge?" she taunted him shamelessly. Mischief bubbling on her lips, she danced closer, tantalizing him as he smirked down at her appreciatively.

"Stakes?" he said simply. Lily paused to think about it for moment.

"Well if I win, the prize is rather obvious." she grinned impishly. He rolled his eyes and Lily fought back the giggle, "If you win, well that's for you to decide."

James stroked his chin, fingers scratching the coarse stubble.

"What count's as me winning?" he asked shrewdly. Lily blinked up at him innocently through those long dark red lashes.

"You not jumping on me…before we are officially going out?"

James chuckled and folded his own arms across his broad chest, copying her favourite stance.

"Not on your life, Lils. Surely you don't think the Chief of the Marauder's is dumb enough to fall for that one? I want a definite time period, no vague 'until I decide otherwise' bullshit."

Lily pouted, then sighed theatrically; she'd known full well he wouldn't buy it. One can but try.

"Fine. Until…Halloween." she finished with a grin. "That's three weeks away? Think you stick it out that long?"

James tilted his head lazily back and proceeded to throw her his most arrogant smirk. The sun was completely out of sight by now, the sky a glorious shade of crimson. In the half-light his beautiful face was a painting of shadows and gold, somewhat tigerish, rather like that annoying self-satisfied grin.

"Like taking candy from a house-elf."

Lily smiled sweetly back, refusing to rise to the bait.

"It's a bet then."

She spun on her heels with a triumphant peel of laughter and began to run towards the West Side Entrance to the Manor, copper bangs streaking out behind her, her delighted giggles carrying over the breeze to the boy's ears. He didn't hear them.

James face was a picture of shock, tense, even stricken as the word made his entire body clench in a wave of guilt that almost brought him to his knees. It only lasted a moment. A second later the rigid control was back in place, and as he turned to follow in the red-head's wake only the bob of his adam's-apple as he swallowed one last time, gave any hint as to his inward turmoil.

He raced into the wind, depending on it's howl to drown out the dreaded word that still rang painfully in his ears.


The fire-whiskey spat and steamed as it vanished; it felt the hundredth during the six long weeks. She drained it to the dregs, smacking her lips theatrically, before snapping her fingers towards the bar for another.

Kenny Crook was waiting eagerly for just that sign, and the next steaming tankard was on the table before she had time to blink. Inwardly she laughed; with all the galleons she was throwing in the shit's pocket, he'd better give the best service a bar could offer. The pale, wet-mouthed man no longer lingered jealously at the booth after each drink for his dues. Instead he waited with his greasiest smile, tallying up the bill in his head as the nights went by and the empty tankards were filled and emptied once more. Six weeks of being his best customer had earned a little privacy at least. If only the poor man knew she was vanishing his best stock wandlessly every time she took a sip.

She came every night, under cover of a hopeless alcoholic, one no less dangerous after 10 drinks than after her first. The poor fools who had tried to pluck her at a game of poker had wriggled away cringing after only an hour, with empty pockets and glares of hatred towards the figure shrouded completely in black. The next evening the thugs had returned, this time with reinforcements and less savoury plan to get their losses back. It took all of her resolve not to kill them. No one had attacked her after that; the word had spread fast. That the newcomer in the cloak was as lethal with his wand as he was at cards.

Her quarry didn't always come. She hadn't expected them to; if she made an appearance every night it was to try and establish a pattern as to when they did come. This was a reconnaissance mission after, MJ repeated her husbands words with just a touch of loving irony.

So far she'd learned much about the pureblood youth's shady dealing but nothing that would hold up in court against sackloads of gold. To convict Bellatrix Black, she would need to find her in the arms of Riddle himself, and even that would mean nothing if she couldn't bring forth the evidence to prove it. The corruption in the Ministry still held as strong as it had almost twenty-five years ago.

Mais bon, if it hadn't been for that same corruption and greed, where would they be now?

Under the safety of her hood, Moniqua sighed ruefully, thinking back to the days when they young, stubborn and foolish. Mon Dieu, how they were foolish. She hoped James wouldn't take so long to see the truth that was staring him in the face. His face crept into her mind with a pang. An ache of love and longing. Her little one, her darling, her greatest gift. She'd never thought she could love another human being so much, so unselfishly. Even her love for Henry wasn't so fierce. Desperate, needing, eternal yes, but not so irrational and consuming. Motherhood had changed her as it changed all woman, she smiled remembering her own Maman saying those timeless words all those years ago.

"To be a mother is to become a lioness. To defend her mate she will kill, without pity or hesitation. To defend her cub she will die, with a smile of triumph on her lips."

The chill stole up her spine like an cold finger. How much longer; if she'd wondered once she'd wondered a thousand times. The decision she'd taken all those years ago, it was present in every aspect of her life. The idea of not knowing, the truth that time was slipping away. The knowledge that with every second that went by, two were being struck from her lifespan… It was frightening reality to live with. So many would have crumbled under it's weight and yet MJ Potter leaned back in her booth and smirked her famous smirk.

The words that had once seemed so ridiculous now made sense rigt down in her very soul; she would die, yes and she would also smile.

But not yet.

Moniqua sent another quick, watchful glance around the dingy pup, eyeing each table under the shadow of her hood. They were few in number tonight, and she wondered why. The Malfoy boy, the Blacks and the Lestranges were all conspicuous for their absences. The meeting had been planned for tonight, she was certain. But only two sat and drank at the table in the darkest corner of the room, neither of which she recognised. Poly-juice potion? No, it seemed unlikely. What would have put them suddenly on their guard. Why the sudden change of plans?

It was at that moment that the Pub door opened, blowing a gust of icy October wind into the grimy, low-celinged space. The bell rang, Kenny Crook hurried forward rubbing his hands together greedily but the stranger on the doorstep's expression made him fall back, mouth hanging open slightly in shock.

Moniqua stiffened, her entire body tense as a knife as her senses picked up the taste of magic. A taste so familiar that it send shivers down her spine and set her hands trembling as they grasped her wand under her cloak.

He was lingering in the doorway. Any movement might attract his attention and so Moniqua forced herself to remain rigid in her seat. The gall of the bastard, waltzing into a lieu publique as though he owned it. Again the urge to strangle Kenny Crook stung her fingertips. The slimy shitbag was actually harbouring the world most wanted man, and offering him whiskey. The danger she was in suddenly hit her like a tonne of bricks, and the first thought that came into her head was a desperate longing for Henry. Her love, her heart, her other half. Henry who perhaps alone on this earth that could defeat the demon before her.

He had paused on the doorstep; now he moved and glided into the room, fully aware that every eye was fixed upon him. The air around him seemed to die an agonising death, he gave off an aura that brought looks of fear into the faces of every man present, hardened criminals and murders though most of them were.

She daren't lift her head, nor lower it. Just as easily as she had picked up the flavour of his insanely powerful magic, so too she knew that one look in his eyes and he would know her immediately. He would pass her table to get to his own. If she could hold it together for just a little while…

Lord Voldemort glided closer until he was less than a meter away. As he drew level with her booth his tall thin frame checked ever so briefly. Moniqua waited, heart in her mouth, screaming silently for her galloping heartbeat to not betray her….

He moved on, reaching the furthest booth where the two men sat as obviously nervous as everyone else, and seated himself gracefully.

The minutes passed like hours. Moniqua forced herself to pick up the tankard before her and drain it properly. Any hint of magic and she was lost. It burned as it went down; she fought the urge to choke and splutter. Now she had to get out of here fast, before the mind-numbing s effects slowed her reactions and dulled her senses.

MJ stood up, trying to be both inconspicuous and at the same time giving the impression that she was unconcerned by the arrival of the newcomer.

Marching up to the bar, she forced herself to breath, her ears automatically listening for movement behind her. She reached into the pockets of her cloak, searching for the galleons crook was waiting for, his pale eyes darting from hidden face to the table behind her. She heaved out a handful of gold, putting them down onto the counter and turning to go, go and get out of there as soon as possible. Then Crook unctuous tones made her turn back, eyes flashing with frustration.

"Ma'am is...one galleon short, I'm afraid." he smiled that greasy smile, still watching the far table nervously out of the corner of his eye. Moniqua swore inwardly and forced herself not to do the same, fought to remain calm as she nodded curtly and delved once more into her robes for the one remaining galleon.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. Her fingers clasped over the smooth metal, and began to slowly, oh so slowly lift it out. She felt the hem of her sleeve catch on something, registered her mind screaming at her to stop. It didn't. Her fist came out and with it came the pistol, caught on the fraying material but only just, so that when it was free of the pocket, it fell.

MJ could only watch it hit the floor.

The bang shook the building. The bullet buried itself mercifully in the wall but by then it was too late. Before she even had time to turn, the wand was at her neck and that soft, hateful voice musing quietly in her ear.

"Moniqua Monroe… how long it's been."

Chin lifted stubbornly to the sky, Moniqua ground her white teeth and hissed back in tones of deepest loathing.

"Not…long….enough!"


OOOFF! Wow, that was definitely a heavy one! But we're getting there! =D =D =D I can't believe how excited I am about the next bit, because as I mentioned in First Steps, this is the part when everything starts to COME OUT! All the secrets about Henry, James, Voldemort, Moriarty, they all begin to link together in the next chapter! And I can't wait! Also because I've written the scene which you may remember from the boggart, you know with Moniqua and Riddle? Well I've finished the scene it comes from in first steps and it should be some where after the next Chapter. DAMN I'm excited! XD XD XD Sad isn't it ^^

Ask me questions, throw me ideas and theories, I love them all and I do try to get back to as many people as possible concerning them!

The gun! SOOOOO important is the gun BTW, I think I mentioned it before but I can't stress it enough!

One last thing I forgot to mention was a little note about Lily's character in this story. A reader messaged me a few days ago that while he liked All Over Again, he found Lily's representation not very well…Lily-ish basically.

Don't get me wrong this isn't a rant, but it was a valid enough point that I found it turning over in my own mind and therefore ended up wanting to explain it a little here.

In a sense it's true, most fics that I've read portray Lily as more of a bookworm, often uptight, rather like a female version of Percy until James comes along and gets her to let her hair down. I love loads of these fics and that "style" of Lily has never bothered me, but I guess in my own mind I've never actually imagined her that way. Maybe I'm wrong, I haven't re-read the books in almost three months so I could be, but I don't remember anything in them that ever indicated that Lily was bookish or a rule-freak. (As I said, if I've missed some crucial passage to tell me. ^^ lol if I'm making a complete fool out of myself here which is very possible, indeed probable. It happens quite a lot ;) )

Anyway, back to the point, I've always got the impression that Lily was spunky and fearless, with lot's of charm and humour, a strong sense of justice, exceptionally loving and kind-hearted, but stubborn a lot of the time and with one heck of a temper. Which is how I've tried my best to portray her, is what I'm basically trying to say. To explain MY reasoning behind her character but lets face it, when you read a book, you automatically create the characters in your head and so no-one's idea of James or Lily or any of them will ever be the same. Sorry for the ramble XD As I said, it seemed a point worth expanding on.

Anyway, please I want your thoughts on this one! READ AND REVIEW! =) =)

Luv ya!

Lili

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