A/N: So this school year is eating me alive just a little bit. I'm really sorry for the lack of updates. I've already turned in over a hundred written pages to my economics teacher in free-response assignments this year . . . which is what I've been doing instead of this. (There are 19 more questions due Tuesday, but I wanted to get this up.) So I can no longer promise any regular updates, but I hope you'll stick with me. There's a second chapter coming tonight.

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns it all.

"Merlin, James, I don't know if I'm ready for this," Lily said as she checked over her shoulder to make sure that she wouldn't run into the door frame while walking backward with one of the tables that was to be used for serving drinks at the night's party. The idea had been that it would be easy to move the tables by levitating them, but it turned out that none of the teens was good enough at spellcasting to avoid banging the tables into walls and door frames throughout the house. Mrs. Potter, who still didn't approve of the New Year party at all, was refusing to help set up but had informed the group that she was adamant about her walls and woodwork remaining in the condition they were in that morning, which was why the tables had to be carried.

"Of course you're ready, Lily," James insisted, attempting to smile despite grimacing due to the weight of the table. "It's just a party. Relax. It'll be fun. You've got me."

"Yeah, but I don't know how to dance."

James let out a breath. "I still can't fathom that." He hoisted the table higher. "Don't worry; you'll be dancing with me and it'll be fine."

"Will it?"

James set the table down abruptly, leaving Lily to feel like her arms were being yanked out of their sockets as all of the weight of the table was left to her. Then she let go of the table, which dropped with a bang that Lily ignored as she rubbed her shoulders and flexed her fingers. "Sorry," said James, wincing as he watched.

Lily shrugged, though she was still grimacing in pain.

James pulled his wand out of his pocket and flicked it at the radio in the corner. "Come on." He grabbed Lily's hands and started pulling her this way and that, somehow always seeming in time with the song.

After a minute or so, Lily pulled away, brow furrowed. "What?" she said, confused as to what, exactly, they were even doing.

"It's easier when there are more people around."

"Yeah, but . . ." Lily twisted her hair around her finger. "That's supposed to be fun?"

"Can you have a bit of an open mind? Please?"

"I don't want to dance."

"Would you have a few drinks, maybe, and give it another try?"

Lily's gaze turned dangerous. "You did not just suggest that."

"Come on, Lily, it's New Year's."

"James."

"What?"

"Do you remember the three things my dad told me about this winter break?"

"Something about . . . not getting pregnant?"

Lily's face flamed against her already fiery hair. "Okay, that's one."

"Um . . . don't be stupid?"

"That's two."

"The third was about alcohol, wasn't it," James said, frowning.

"Correct."

"It's one time, Lily. And not just any one time. It's New Year's."

"I'm not drinking, James, and you are not going to get me drunk just so you can—"

"Don't go there, Lily. Don't you dare go there. Do you really think that's what I want to do?"

Lily tossed her hair. "You just suggested that you want to get me drunk—what am I supposed to think?"

"That maybe I think you need to loosen up a bit for once?" James yelled back. "Merlin, Lily, I didn't say you should get drunk. I just a few—"

"A few drinks, right, which, in a female who's five-foot-four and has no experience with alcohol—"

"Oh, give it up already!"

"Why should I? You're trying to compromise me!"

James's knees suddenly seemed to fail and he crumpled to the ground, nearly banging his head on the table he and Lily had been moving. Lily's anger dissipated as she saw her boyfriend on the ground, and she rushed to him, knocking her hip against the table, and knelt, banging her elbow. Ignoring the pain, she put a hand on James's shoulder and cupped her other hand under James's drooping chin. "James," she whispered.

James looked up at her, guided by the hand on his chin. There were tears in his eyes. "Is that what you think of me, Lily?"

"What?" Lily had already forgotten what, exactly, the argument had been about.

"That I'm just going to . . . take advantage of you? That I'm . . . that I want to . . . to ply you with alcohol, just to . . . ?"

Lily sat next to James, pressing her side against his and putting her arms around him. Stupid girl. She should have been more careful with him—with her James, who had always been hard to keep from worrying and was by no means done with grieving. "No—no, James . . . I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said—"

"I shouldn't have, either."

"But really, it was stupid. I don't want you drunk. You're in control, always in control, and I don't know what to do with it because it's so unlike Padfoot or Wormtail or me and even Moony looses control once a month but not you, never you, and it's beautiful. And I don't want you drunk, not now, not ever, because of the control but also because that's stupid—so stupid—oh Potter, you idiot . . ."

"I'm . . . sorry?" Lily asked, unsure what this last part was about.

James frowned. "I suppose I have to explain this part. It's my mum. She . . . she's like me, you see, with the . . . well, whatever you want to call it. We hate ourselves sometimes, she and I, and—"

"Muggles call it depression."

"Yeah, that. But Mum—her response is alcohol. And it took me years to figure that out and I'd already had my first drink by the time I realized—you know, Padfoot and me sneaking around in about third year or something, wondering what it would be like—and . . . I don't see myself going her way because you cheer me up enough that I don't need anything artificial and I'd be responsible enough to get some potion or other if I needed it, rather than drinking, but—it's not like I stay as far away from alcohol as I maybe should, what with Mum and everything. There'll be firewhisky tonight, and I might have some, and Sirius definitely will, and probably Peter, but Remus won't. And I know you'd like dancing better if you had some, but I don't want to push it on you, and I'm sorry for what I said. I know what drinking can do and I—I mean, I'm not making this a dry party, but—I will definitely respect your limits. I'm sorry."

Lily didn't know what to say, so she hugged James long and hard.

"I'm sorry, Lily."

Lily kissed James on the forehead. "It's all a bit much, I know."

"Still—I should be better than this."

Lily kissed James full-on. "I love you." She stood and helped him up, whispering as she did so, "Good luck with your mum."

James gave a thin smile in return. "Thanks. We should probably get this table into the ballroom."

Lily nodded, rubbing the various parts of her on which the table had taken its toll. "Yeah, all right."

A/N: I've been having massive writer's block with this in addition to being busy, so feedback would be very much appreciated. I really don't know where I'm going at this point.