Otherwise known as: How Luna tore apart the fabric of reality so that her friends could get decently laid, and accidentally saved the world in the process.

A/N: Hello! Welcome to Chapter Fifty-Four! Let it be known that I actually quite like snakes, as long as they're not trying to kill me.

I had no idea what to do with this chapter - I started and re-started it so many times over the past week that I had about five different starter-phrases when I came back to it yesterday, and still no idea what to do, but then a lovely commenter on AO3 spurred me to write this piece, and I think I like it? Even though a wild Lily appeared about two thousand words in and to this day I'm not sure how she finagled her way into this chapter. Damnit, Lily!

Enjoy!

Love Always,

Eli x

Disclaimer: I do not own the works herein, all characters from the Harry Potter Universe belong to JK Rowling, and all characters, storylines, situations, plots and the like do not belong to me. I make no money from this work.

Warnings: Rated M for situations, SO MUCH swearing, violence, sexual scenes... The whole lot, basically.


Iacta Alea Est

Chapter Fifty-Four


They poured out in a rising tide of hissing and snarling, at least a hundred of the things shoving their way up through the floorboards and toppling down the stairs. Immediately, Ginny knew they weren't British – she associated British snakes with sweet little creatures, smooth and pretty with shy personalities and the panicked rustle of grass as they rushed away. These were massive; aggressive and fanged in a multitude of colours. Several were as thick as her forearm, more even thicker, and far from being retiring they instead rushed forward in a wave.

Lavender's vicious growl preceded her first Incendio, catching one of the fore-runners on the nose and whipping it backwards. Some of them flinched at the attack, but the majority carried on undaunted. Ginny tried not to recoil as she felt the floorboards beneath her feet buckle and quake with the onslaught.

She moved quickly, shooting strategic slicing hexes into the fray, taking the opposite side to Lavender and forcing the range wide so that she could catch as many as possible with just the one spell. Lavender threw out large swathes of fire, but they burned out quickly, forcibly reminding the three of them of her weakness.

"Lavender, get out," Ginny shouted over the sinister, whispering hisses. Automatically she flinched back as a viper swung upwards towards her face, snapping over where her nose had been. Snarling, she threw out her arm, the bright orange of her spell neatly decapitating her attacker.

"No!" Lavender shrieked back, her dying flames reflected in her eyes. "Hermione!"

Swinging around, a shield just barely protecting her, she finally saw Hermione. Their girl, their indomitable leader, was frozen solid, the blood drained from her face. Her eyes were glassy, wand held loosely at her side as the snakes undulated about her feet. She lunged forward to – she didn't know, shake her out of it? – at the same time as a sand-coloured reptile with brown knots on its scales appeared to notice Hermione's undefended state. It rippled backwards, dragging its body onto the top of the sea of snakes, and then surged, its whole body propelling itself through the air with speed. Ginny's scream tore through the constant susurrations, snapping Hermione into reality, but the other girl's wand barely made it half-way up before the creature's fangs were buried in her throat. Lavender's roar of fury followed their friend down as she was smothered by the tide, her wide, terrified eyes the last Ginny saw before she was swallowed by snakes.


Luna knocked on the door; her secret knock, the one her father had taught her when she had been only a baby. 'The Lovegood Family Knock', he'd called it with a grin. "You use that on any of your relatives, my love, and you'll always find a home."

She wanted a home. It made her feel selfish and ungrateful and dirty, but she wanted her home, and her mother, and her father, and – oh, Gods, she was drifting again. She should have brought Regulus. She missed him to the point that it ached.

Glancing around, she checked the windows beside and above her. There weren't many differences between this house and the one she'd grown up in; fewer signs by the gate, yes, but there were still Dirigible Plums growing wild by the fence, and the apple trees her father tended so carefully despite their low nutritional value bloomed with yellow-orange berries, several of which lay crushed and sticky beneath her feet.

The door thumped, or something on the other side thumped, and Luna turned back to it curiously. As she watched, a little door at the top flipped open and a little feathered head poked through, eyeing her warily. She met its queer grey eyes guilelessly with a smile. "Hello, Alf," she greeted it. "Can I come in?"

The owl cooed shortly, impatiently. He had never been a very good host, Luna had to admit. He hated guests, but always insisted on answering the door if he was inside. In her time, they'd generally left him perched on one of the trees, where he could snack and glare at his leisure, but he was only a fledgling now. They'd learn.

"Who's that?" A familiar voice asked from inside. Alf turned his head to face the newcomer and clacked his beak together three times. The voice hummed as though he quite understood, and the door was pulled open. "Hello," a young Xenophilius Lovegood said, his head tilted. "You used my knock!"

"The Lovegood Family Knock," she corrected him gravely.

"Of course, of course!" He gestured down the hall with a grin. "Come in, come in! Can't leave kin on the doorstep, can we, Alf?"

Alf hooted contemptuously at the idea that he was obliged to entertain anyone, never mind kin, and with one last derisive glare at Luna hopped down off of his perch to claw-walk off down the hall. Xenophilius turned back from watching him with an expression of faint apology, but mostly the big smile Luna so missed to see. "He's in a mood," her father explained, ushering her in and closing the door. "'Dora – that's my wife, see – used the last of the Gurdyroots this morning to make pie-crust, and that'll be the last we see of them 'til November comes 'round again. Dreadfully picky bloomers, those Gurdyroots…"

"You might try shade," Luna suggested softly as she looked around the house which had so recently been her own. Her handprints were missing from the wall, and there – in the corner, where they'd measured her height scrupulously from year to year, instead stood a table laden with Quibbler drafts. "They're more confident in the shade, and if you sing to them you might even convince them to bloom year-round."

Xeno stopped to gape at her, before letting out a booming laugh. "That's what my 'Dora says!" he cried happily. "'Dora, come hear this. Tell us again what to do with the Gurdyroots!" He disappeared around the corner to yank Pandora Lovegood's arm excitably, and she drifted in with indulgent obedience. Luna caught her breath at the first sight of her.

She was beautiful, of course, but also pale – shaded. There was a translucent quality about her that suggested she was neither present nor missing, only there and yet not. Luna had never met anybody who so embodied the disconnect she felt with the world, but looking at her mother now, she could understand how she had been produced. Xenophilius didn't seem to notice, but Luna could see. Pandora's hand flit up to rest on Xeno's shoulder, her muttering something lowly that had him belting out another laugh, but as she did the ray of sun that shone through the window behind her seemed to penetrate her skin, lighting it, and she cast no shadow.

"Hello," she said with a sweet smile, the sort of smile Luna had forgotten she had. It was an inherently maternal smile; warm and soft, giving the impression that she might smell of cookies or bread, something motherly. Her bright blue eyes were knowing as they travelled over Luna's body from head to toe, and Luna had the uncomfortable realisation that this must be how her friends felt when she spoke to them. "Luna Lovegood," Pandora tasted the words slowly, tipping her head. "Yes, just the name I'd choose."

"Oh, is that it?" Xenophilius asked with his natural exuberance. "Luna? Yes, yes, very nice. And you look just like her, petal!"

"Well she is our daughter," Pandora said serenely, still eyeing Luna. "Look, Xeno, she has your ears."

A self-conscious hand came up to touch her ears beneath her fall of hair, and Xeno, despite the fact he could certainly not see Luna's ears from there, nodded happily. "And my mother's nose," he cooed.

Alf hopped up on a chair behind Pandora and ruffled his feathers scornfully. Pandora tutted. "Hush, Alf. She does." To Luna, she explained, "he doesn't think you look at all like either of us, but he's just jealous. We'd promised him we wouldn't have children for at least a year after he came to live with us."

"I know," Luna said, feeling unaccountably irritated. "I heard him."

"She certainly did!" Xeno said happily. "My daughter!"

"Why don't you bring us some drinks, Xeno? I think she'd like to speak to me." Pandora smoothed a hand over Alf's head and then deposited him on an owl-stand in the corner. She gestured to the sofa. "Please, sit."

It was odd, Luna thought, though it took quite a lot to make her consider anything odd, to be here sitting opposite her mother, who was presently only a year or two older than she was, feeling like a guest in her own house. Pandora had been dead for ten years in Luna's time, and while she loved her mother, she'd filled the space she'd vacated with other things; her father being both mother and father, helping with the quibbler, running the garden and keeping the man from blowing the place up.

As a child she'd spent a considerable amount of time looking after her mother anyway. As she'd thought earlier, if Pandora had been around when Luna had been a teenager it was likely the majority of her time would have been spent stopping her from blowing herself up, rather than studying, which Luna rather preferred, all things being equal. Book-learning was an oddity in their house, Luna being the only person who'd kept a personal library that consisted of anything other than journals written by eccentrics in Eastern Europe who sold perhaps three copies a year, and so it hadn't been a great priority for either of her parents to give her time to read.

Still, she'd always adored her mother beyond measure, which is why it made no sense that she was feeling prickly and out-of-sorts.

Gods, she wished Regulus were here.

"So," Pandora said, settling herself on the opposite sofa. She was wearing a muumuu made of Acromantula silk that slipped across her skin like water, and Luna found herself caught up in the image of Loony Lovegood's Loopy Mother picking her up from the Hogwart's Express in something so sheer, or, perhaps, nothing at all, because the Gods knew she'd spent most of Luna's childhood nude. Something that hadn't bothered her at the time, but she now realised would have perturbed her at least a little come school. "What's the future like?"

"Wonderful," Luna said, nodding. "I miss it."

"Of course, you would," Pandora said with a sympathetic smile. "We all miss what we know, but it's the unknown that is rather more fun, don't you think?"

Luna didn't reply because she wanted to agree, and that irritated her. Who was this stranger who was her mother? Pandora looked up as Xeno entered with the drinks, sharing an intimate look with him that made Luna's lips twitch in a reluctant smile. He loved her. Whatever reservations she had about her mother were nothing compared to the effect her father's happiness could have on her.

But then, Pandora had taken that away, too, hadn't she?

Conflicted, Luna shook her head and reached for a cup, looking up when she felt eyes on her. "I'm soory, how uncomfortable for you. It must have been a long time, and neither of us look the way we will, do we?" she let out a laugh, ruffling Xenophilius's flyaway hair affectionately. "You'll have less hair, won't you, love?"

"You'll be as beautiful as always," Xeno reassured her, patting her hands absently, eyes still focused on Luna. "Did you need us?"

"Yes," Luna said. If she stuck to one syllable words her throat didn't stick as much, which was helpful. "I need you… mama."

"You need me?" Pandora asked, visibly shocked. She took a moment to scan Luna before giving a decisive nod. "Yes – I think you do."

Luna nodded, too, trying to relax even as she felt the other pull at her. It often did when she was stressed, coaxing her to return to another plane, to play in the unreality of reality. A quick escape from things she didn't want to deal with. "My friends have a cursed ring," she said, and at once Xeno and Pandora's eyes lit up.

"Friends!" Xeno squawked. "Did you hear that, my love? Our Luna has friends!"

"Wonderful," Pandora hummed. "Oh, I'm so glad – I always thought our daughter would be lonely."

"Brilliant minds often are," Xeno nodded solemnly.

"We thought you could help us?" Luna continued, channelling Hermione. Hermione would know what to do. Hermione wouldn't be upset, or emotional. Hermione was sensible and professional and could handle anything. Luna'd always watched her with interest when she worked so it wasn't hard to pull up that sort of mask, even if she had no idea how the other girl accomplished anything with so little emotion involved.

"Yes," Pandora brightened drastically, her ethereal vibe lessening until she looked almost like a real person. "I would love to help you, Luna. With anything. Just bring it here, and we'll fix it." Her eyes locked on Luna's, and she reached out to press a powdery, weightless hand against Luna's. "Together."


Lily was in the kitchen when it happened.

She'd not been doing anything special or particularly strenuous; just arguing with Fritz because the stubborn elf wouldn't let her make her own sandwiches (what part of 'lactose-intolerant' did they not understand? Was that not a thing elves had? Did wizards not have it? Great, because what she really needed was just another thing that set her apart from the rest of her bloody race-) while ignoring James's constant tugging at her hand (he was starting to get antsy because she hadn't mentioned the wedding in about a week. As if not talking about it meant she'd just gone and forgotten the biggest event of her life, the bloody idiot, couldn't he see she loved him? If she didn't, she certainly wouldn't put up with his weird separation anxiety, and definitely not his friends). Just your usual low-level stress in a Potter household; she'd not gotten worked up or upset.

And yet it happened. One second she was explaining what lactose was to a bewildered elf while holding her fiancé at arms-length, the next second she was lying on the floor, an electric-buzz running from her head through her body, nearly bending her in two. All of her synapses appeared to be firing at once, and the overwhelming message was something bad is happening something really bad something bad is happening.

She might not fully understand all of the rules of magic and all their weird pureblood laws (the whole 'trust in magick' thing sat so badly with her; no matter how you sliced it, it still sounded like semi-sentient fairy dust, and she didn't like to think it might be smarter than her) but she wasn't stupid, and she knew a cry for help when she heard one. Sort-of. It was really more of a feeling but semantics weren't a priority. Instead, she stretched a hand out to Fritz and grabbed the elf's leg, ignoring James's frantic questions and panic.

"Take me to them," she demanded, clutching its ankle (did House-Elves have ankles?) for dear life. The creature sent an apologetic look at James but grabbed onto Lily's ear all the same and popped the two of them out of the kitchen.

The buzzing let up the second they touched down, freeing her body for movement. It was helpfully replaced by an influx of adrenalin which propelled her to her feet in record time, her wand springing to hand with a thought. Fritz disappeared again, clever creature, and Lily turned to face the music.

It took a second to make sense of the scene, since so many things were happening and so very few of them made sense. Lily liked to think of herself as an open-minded kind of girl, but some things even her brain froze up about – not murder, not magic, not dragons or the like, but due to her frightfully weak constitution, she did have a paralysing fear of two things: spiders.

And snakes.

So when she heard that jumbled mess of screaming, shouting and hissing, she didn't comprehend what was happening. Her brain didn't want to believe, so it provided an alternate explanation, like the gas was leaking and she was the only person who could save them from a nasty explosion, or maybe Hermione had pissed the wrong person off and it had caused a really quiet bar-fight. Stranger things had happened.

But it hadn't.

First, she saw Hermione. Paled out, on the ground, eyes closed as a mass of writhing bodies smothered her. There might have been one snake or a hundred, but either way they were thick, muscular, and definitely not of a breed native to the UK.

Then her eyes found Lavender, following her arms up from where she was tearing and shredding the snakes claiming Hermione as their own. She'd abandoned her wand at some point, and was now down on her knees, snarling with wild eyes and blood spattered over her face and hair. Around her lay the remains of other snakes, ones she'd gotten through first before reaching her friend.

Ginny was giving off a constant low-level scream that Lily didn't think she knew she was doing, stood with her legs on either side of Hermione's prone form, up to her ankles in snakes as she sent haphazard slicing hexes through the teeming mass. Seriously – her face was a mask of infuriated terror, and she was no longer being clean about her kills, blood from both her hexes and Lavender's primal tearing spattering her face until she looked like a seventies, low-budget Boudicca.

Why am I here? Lily asked whoever was listening. She didn't like snakes, she wasn't any better at defensive spells than the three of them were, and she wasn't great at offensive magic either. All the same, Lavender looked up and spotted her, her eyes exhibiting some sort of feral relief. Those monstrous scars at the side of her face melded in with the rest of her flesh as a snarling sound ripped from her throat – words, they were words, only they came out mangled by the simple fact that Lavender had suddenly sprouted fangs.

"Oh, shit," she gasped, stumbling out of the door and into the woodland surrounding her. Her first instinct was to run, wait until she was far enough away to be safe, then send a Patronus for help. Her second was that that was a stupid plan, and by the looks of it Hermione would be dead by the time any of their men arrived.

Dead.

Lily shivered despite the heat. She didn't want that fate for herself, but she was a Gryffindor, and she couldn't leave someone – an ally, if not exactly a friend – to suffer if she had the ability to help them. And while she didn't really have the ability to do anything other than what Ginny was doing – that is, stand around and scream while throwing hexes haphazardly into the melee – it felt like logic wasn't supposed to be ruling her head.

Except – well, gut instinct appeared to be ruling those three in there, and it wasn't doing them any good, so maybe what Lily could bring to the table was that vital logic they all lacked? She didn't have much time to do so, but she was the original Brightest Witch of Her Age for a reason, and like Hell was that changing just because some bushy-haired brat appeared in her backyard.

She thought for a moment, built up a half-cocked plan in her mind, and then went for it without thinking it any further through. What did she have to lose, after all? Either it worked, or it didn't, and if it didn't the outcome could hardly be worse than what it was looking like, now.

Sparing herself a second to curse the Sorting Hat for putting her in Gryffindor - she was convinced that if she had been in Slytherin with Sev she wouldn't be doing anything so idiotic – she marched back towards the disgusting little hovel before she could change her mind.

Same scene as before – Hermione on the floor, Lavender with fangs (fangs!), Ginny being the bad-ass Lily had always sensed she was. This time, however, the scene was sharpened, she could see the diamonds on the back of snake skin, every glint of the afternoon light off of their scales, hear the gasps of breath leaving Hermione's lips.

Her wand moved quickly, throwing snakes every which way as she blasted her way through to the woman who had been the bane of her life this past few months. Her hair had lost its curls in the wake of slime and dust, her braids crusted with grey-brown grime. Lily blasted herself an empty area around the woman's shoulders, revealing as she did so a nasty seeping wound on her throat.

Copperhead, Lily recognised clinically, glancing around and noting the prevailing breed as her Healer instincts called to mind fang-sizes, bite-radius, symptoms with ease. She'd never treated the wounds before, their kind being native to North America, but she knew it was not fatal and they had universal antivenins that would clear it up easily. The problem here, then, was both the loss of blood from the raggedy gash and Hermione's obvious allergic reaction.

"Lavender!" She called, snapping her fingers to get the girl's attention. "Grab her feet, angle her upwards!"

She slotted her own hands beneath the woman's shoulders and lifted her clumsily into her arms, Lavender following her example by hefting Hermione's ankles onto her shoulders. Lily gained Ginny's attention with another shout. The redhead, far from stupid, got the message immediately and jumped into formation behind Lavender. Together, the three of them pulled Hermione out of the shack and into the cover of a close-by tree. Immediately, Ginny threw a beaded bag at Lily and got up again. "Anti-venom is in there," she gasped, her eyes fixed on the shack. "She has a bunch – I thought she was paranoid but…" she gestured towards the house, where the windows were covered by snakes crawling across them from the inside. "I'll be back with the ring."

"Oh, no you don't!" Lily shouted, jumping up to grab Ginny. "That place is a death trap!"

Ginny gave her a look that questioned her sanity, which Lily did not appreciate. "The Horcrux is in there," Ginny told her slowly. Lily grit her teeth and thanked the Gods that the 'duh' remained implied. She didn't fancy breaking a fist on a Weasley's abnormally hard face today.

"I know that," she said patiently. "But you can't go back in."

"Watch me!" Ginny snarled.

"Don't be an idiot!" Lily spat, tightening her grip on the other girl's bicep. Ginny looked from Lily's hand to her face slowly, her eyes glinting dangerously. Lily ignored this, which was likely another symptom of her ingrained Gryffindor stupidity. "Those snakes will kill you if you go in alone," Lily explained with strained patience. "You're lucky they didn't get you already!"

"They did," Ginny said, hiking up the shredded leg of her trousers and fixing Lily with an unimpressed look. "Turns out polyester is not an appropriate choice for Horcrux-hunting. Go figure."

"Yeah, well, it's going to be an even worse choice if you go back in there," Lily said calmly, "because polyester is extremely flammable."

"What?" Ginny tipped her head in confusion. "What do you –"

"Fiendfyre!"

"- oh, holy fuck."

She spared a smirk for Ginny even as she kept her wand pointed at the hut, directing the one demonic hell-spawn she'd managed to conjure to devour the creepy overgrown worms that lived inside of it. Thankfully the heat disguised the sweat that had broken out on her forehead with the strain of controlling the beast – Fiendfyre had been a spur-of-the-moment decision she was undoubtedly going to regret, but after what Hermione had said about Horcrux destruction, it seemed like the wisest course of action. None of them could get back in there with the killer snakes on the loose, and finding a ring in the mess even if they managed to kill the lot would be impossible without touching it, and none of them were sure whether a simple touch would activate the curse.

No, this was better. Much cleaner, at the very least.

"Are you insane?!" Ginny was shrieking, her disagreement with that decision plain.

Lily twisted her wrist as the dragon she'd conjured threatened to make a break for the trees. "I'd say no, but these days that's debateable," she muttered mostly to herself. "Or maybe the world has gone insane. That must be it."

"How do you even know that spell?!" Ginny yelled then, not listening. "I don't even know that spell, and I had the fucking Dark Lord in my head for a year!"

"Why is it," Lily hissed, getting genuinely worked up now, which only caused her flames to roar higher, "that everybody conveniently forgets how before I was James Potter's future wife I was Severus Snape's best friend?" She shot a good facsimile of Sev's favourite sneer at Ginny and drawled haughtily, "not all darkness is evil, Lily."

The other girl stumbled a few steps back, her mouth falling open. "That is disturbing," she shuddered. Lily turned back to her work with a smile. The roof of the hut was properly aflame now, embers flying up when the second floor collapsed and having caught on the improperly laid beams. The dying noises of the snakes burst upwards in one massive, haunting death rattle, which Lily stoically ignored – she hated to kill so many living creatures, but it seemed they were confined to the house, and none of the girls had the time or skill to break whatever hold You-Know-Who had over them. Even if they had, God knows what sort of trouble all those venomous snakes might cause in the village, never mind the havoc they'd wreak on the ecosystem.

There was a low groan behind her as she kept a close eye on her little dragon friend, and she glanced back to see Hermione was moving once more. A flush of guilt shot through her when she realised she hadn't bothered to help her – she, the Healer – but in her defense, she'd been busy and Lavender had the hang of it just fine.

Plus, it seemed to have kept the woman occupied so she wasn't distracting Lily.

"Lily Evans!" Lavender suddenly shouted, seeming to notice the raging fire for the first time. The air stank of sulphur and brimstone, so how she'd not even looked up was beyond Lily's comprehension. At least the fangs were gone. "My God, you hid that dark side well!"

"You know, if you were a muggle, you could have said 'Jesus Christ!' then and it would have sounded much better," Lily said, wobbling a little. Ginny held her steady and she crinkled her nose, watching the dragon hunt for more food. There was a problem. "Erm - is this the best time to admit I have no idea how to get rid of him?"

"Let the bastard place burn," Lavender called, shaking her blood-soaked fist at the burnt-out husk. "Set him free! Let him plunder the village!" She shrugged when both Ginny and Lily turned to her in shock. "I've been used as a snake stress-doll, Ben pinched my arse and the sausage rolls are definitely cold by now – I'm not in the mood to be a hero. Besides, I'm only saying what we're all thinking."

"That will not be happening," Ginny said flatly. "We're the good guys, we don't …"

"Instigate a massive human barbeque? I don't see why not. You didn't have to talk to those people, Ginny, you don't get it."

"Shouldn't you be nursing or something?" She snapped, waving at Hermione. "Leave the big girls to solve this problem."

Lavender looked like she was about to start a fight, then suddenly flopped back, laughing. "Yeah, alright. I suppose Evans did put me to shame." She leaned over Hermione's face and tapped her cheeks. "Hermione, love…"

They turned their backs on their two friends, instead contemplating the Fiendfyre as Lily's dragon sniffed the air, observed the environment for a few seconds, then leaned down and swallowed a tree whole, leaving licking flames of hellfire in its place.

"I know this sounds stupid," Lily said with a small voice, "but maybe aguamenti?" There was a beat of silence before she looked over and saw Ginny gaping at her. "Yeah…" she grimaced. "I thought not. Worth a try, though."

"Bloody Hell," Ginny muttered darkly. "I can't believe you just saved our lives."

"Doesn't shock anybody more than me!" Lily replied brightly, though the problem of her new pet dragon was still pressing. "Shrinking charm? We could keep him in an unbreakable jar." She could tell without looking that Ginny was glaring again, and tried not to pout. "What? I'm becoming quite fond of him."

"Just call the damn thing back, Evans, before I do something I might regret."

Scowling, she tried to remember what Sev had said. He'd been a great fan of the Dark Arts, and this had been one of her attempts to understand what drew him to them so much. It turned out she was rubbish at most of it, but fiendfyre? Inexplicably, that she was great at. He'd not wanted her to even try it; he'd liked the idea of her dabbling with him but he, like James, preferred to keep her on a pedestal of sweetness and purity. Lily, however, had been drawn to the animals. She'd only been fifteen, and the idea of being able to conjure up a friendly little fire-pal, maybe a squirrel or a little kitten, was exciting. When she'd tried and only been able to conjure dragons and hellhounds, it had lost its appeal, so she'd done the Lily thing and locked away all of the information in case she needed it in future but never intended to bother with it again. The feel of it was awful, too; so dark and silky, like sex and chocolate had been melted on her skin and soul. Growing up in a conservative household, she knew to distrust that feeling and recognized the danger in it. That had been when she'd taken up against the dark arts, and she had also, unfortunately, from that day forward been unable to associate Severus with anything else.

But she remembered the theory and that one episode, so she pulled that information out and concentrated. Lily pulled back her wand as though it were a whip, closing her eyes; focusing on her centre. The pot of darkness she'd opened to conjure her dragon friend was spilling and spreading, but that was fine. She left it for now. While she had dabbled in the Dark Arts briefly, she was Light through-and-through, so she pulled easily on her store of bright, pure energy to absorb it until it was but a tiny pinprick. The dragon, with its access to her worries, fears, nightmares and darkest temptations cut off, sputtered out, taking its trail of fire with it. She pondered the scorch marks sadly. "That's another thing Sev said," she thought aloud, uncaring whether anybody was listening. "He said it takes the truly light to cut off the approach of darkness."

Ginny met her eyes, saw the sorrow there, and was blessedly silent.

Lavender, however… "That's bullshit!" she snorted. "That's how the big baddies get the good girls into bed. Though, actually… did it work? As a pick-up line, that is? Enquiring minds and all." Lily didn't speak but whatever Lavender saw in her face was enough because she whooped loudly. "Excellent! I'm using that! There's no way he can refuse me if I use one of his own trite phrases."

Lily rubbed her temples tiredly and swallowed back a growl. "Should have left her to burn."


A/N: As a naturally curious person who has read everything she could get her hands on from - oh, idk, like birth? I find it highly questionable that Lily Evans - and Hermione, for that matter - would take up arms against an entire area of magical study without at least researching it thoroughly first. Hermione dabbled with grey magic in her hex on the DA parchment, and I think Lily would have conceivably dabbled with Severus. That's my headcanon of the week - don't like it? Fight me.