On Christmas Day, the sun rose at eight in the morning. As far as Lily was concerned, it was long overdue. She had gotten up at five, bright-eyed and wide-grinned, and shaken Marlene awake.

"You're not my best friend until at least nine," Marlene had mumbled, before rolling over in a huff and drifting back off to sleep.

Slightly offended but with her spirits still intact, Lily had raced from her friend's room and danced about the long hallways to an imaginary tune. Marlene's house was the typical Pure-blood abode, with high ceilings, fancy ornaments, portraits of long-dead relatives, and a rich history about the place. Not quite as grand as James' manor had been, but ridiculously big nonetheless. She smiled at the house-elves, avoided eye-contact with the more grumpy looking portraits, and steered clear of Marlene's parents' living quarters, as the middle-aged witch and wizard had made it quite clear to Lily over the years that they did not take well to being woken up early. It occurred to Lily that the trait might run in the family. She also longed to one day call her own bedroom a 'living quarters'. What a nice life that would be.

On the dot of nine, Lily shook Marlene awake again.

"You're not my best friend until t-"

"Nope," said Lily, pulling the covers off and drawing the blinds. "Happy Christmas, Mar!"

Light crashed into the room like a bowling ball through the window. Marlene screeched, really screeched, and covered her face with her hands, writhing about on the bed as though in immense pain.

"The weather is quite nice," Lily called over her friend's screeching. "I think you'll really like it."

"I hate the weather."

"Oh, come on," said Lily. "You haven't even gotten to know it yet."

Marlene gave her a filthy look and slowly sat up, straightening her top and scratching her head.

"Happy Christmas," Lily tried again.

Marlene made a sound through a closed mouth.

"What?"

"Hpy Chrstms."

"I'm sorry?"

Marlene sighed and stood, stretched. "Happy Christmas, Lily."

Lily beamed. "Thanks!" She held out a wrapped box in her hands. It was hand-wrapped, painstakingly so. Marlene took it and shredded the paper without a thought, making Lily wince a little before grinning widely again as the present emerged from its wrapping.

"Rock and Roll and Grindylows - Volume Two, by the Fortuna Majors," Marlene read aloud. She looked genuinely impressed. "How did you know I listen to the Majors? I'm sure I've never mentioned it before."

"Well, I wrote a letter to your mum, who directed me to your Auntie Tilda, the one you went to that Quidditch game with, and she told me your cousin Lucas buys you music, but when I tried to contact him I could only reach his ex-girlfriend Mindy, so I-"

"I love it," said Marlene. She pointed vaguely to her desk. "There's yours."

It wasn't wrapped, but Lily hardly cared. She picked up her present and smiled widely. A first edition copy of Bathilda Bagshot's, Beauxbatons: A Less Rich But Still Impressive History. The title had raised some eyebrows in the international community, and its clear bias towards Hogwarts had boosted its popularity and sales by no small margin. Copies were rare and Lily had been dying to read it. She looked at Marlene with a toothy smile and hugged her. "Oh, I love it, Mar! Thank you."

Marlene groaned, still rubbing her eyes, and patted Lily on the back. "Yes, yes, any time. Can we get breakfast now?"

"I've already eaten," Lily said. They left Marlene's room and started the treck through the hallways and corridors on their way to the dining hall. "But I can watch you eat, if you'd like."

Marlene sighed. "I'd forgotten what you get like at Christmas. It's only been a year, but somehow I'd forgotten. Must be a repressed memory."

Lily pretended not to hear her. "I'm looking forward to the party."

The other girl grimaced. "I told you, I wouldn't call it a party. All the Pure-blood families getting together to eat dainty, fancy little toothpick foods, showing off their expensive dress robes and jewellery, making connections and networking with other filthy rich people so they can laugh about how good they all have it - not a party, Lily."

"Well it sounds like a lot of fun. There's an orchestra, right?"

"Yeah."

"And dancing?"

"If you count the waltz."

"So food, music, dancing… any drinks?" Marlene nodded. "Well, that sounds like a party to me."

Her friend sighed. "Trust me, Lily. It is not a party."

They walked past the ballroom. House-elves bustled about, setting it up for the party. Caterers streamed in and out too, looking crazed and manic in their efforts to prepare the place, even though the party wouldn't actually start until evening. The ballroom was massive, and charms were put in before Lily's very eyes to make it even bigger, grander, more breathtaking and impressive, until it was fit to hold a king's banquet and still seem a tad much.

Marlene and Lily walked on and, despite herself, Lily's mind wandered. "Will every Pure-blood family be here?" she asked.

Marlene shrugged. "All the big ones. The Sacred Twenty-Eight, as they like to be called. Plenty of other important names too, that just aren't quite as pretentious, but every bit as ancient and respected. The Potters are a good example."

Lily's heart shuddered and roared to life, like a key had been turned in the ignition. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, they're the good sort. Although I'm sure you know that by now."

"What's that mean?"

Marlene rolled her eyes at Lily. "Come now, I know you have your grievances with James but you can't deny, he's a good guy. Even if you didn't think so a few years ago, which you were wrong about, these days he's especially good. I don't know how you don't see it, Lily. He does so much for others, he's matured, and he's almost never in trouble any more. Not to mention how much taller he's grown. And his physique has really set, too. Now that I'm on the team I can tell you, our exercises at practice are intense. And in the locker rooms? Merlin. He's pretty well-built, Lily."

Lily's imagination had been unruly enough as it was these days, running rampant with James and his wind swept hair and stupid grin. The last thing it needed was Marlene's very provocative description of the boy. It took her mind to sultry places, and she felt herself blushing. She spoke quickly before the silence grew too prolonged, hoping Marlene wouldn't look at her face. "He's an arrogant toe-rag."

"Not really. Certainly not anymore, at any rate. In fact, I reckon the two of you are quite similar." Lily scoffed and Marlene looked at her seriously. "Really, Lily. You're both hot-headed, you're great leaders, brilliant students, passionate, brave, caring - everyone respects and likes you. The two of you go together so seamlessly in everyone's minds. James and Lily, Lily and James. At this point, you're more alike than anyone else I know. No one suits you better than each other."

Lily stared. "Where did all that come from?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you sound like our biggest fan. I didn't know you cared so much."

Marlene snorted. "Wait 'till you here Black go on about it. He's a hopeless romantic, as it turns out."

A coy smile reached Lily's face. "Is that right?"

"Yeah, he-" Marlene looked at her and rolled her eyes, quickening her step to try and leave Lily behind. "No. You are not turning this on me."

"Tell me more about how romantic Sirius Black is, Mar!"

"Shut it, Lily."

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Taureau Barkley sat still on the edge of his bed while the boat rocked to and fro. His body refused to give into momentum's urges to rock along with it. His prison cell didn't have much to offer the eyes, aside from his bed. A dirty sink, a hole in the ground, rust on his cell bars. There was a mirror on the wall, at least. From that, he found some way to pass the time.

He looked at his reflection, his dark skin, his sharp cheekbones, his deep black eyes that he'd trained to stay expressionless. His aviator sunglasses had been smashed. The prison guards had taken his pinstriped suit, replaced it with these prison rags, torn and essentially colorless, a grey and brown medley of filth.

From the cells around him, he heard clanging, frantic and desperate voices from his fellow prisoners. Once the boat reached Azkaban, they would never be free again. Of that there was no doubt in anyone's mind. They had until the boat reached land to escape, break out, and no way of knowing how much longer was left.

Taureau Barkley didn't join them in those futile attempts. He was not one to panic, nor to beg for and cling to freedom. If he was thrown in an Azkaban cell and left to rot, then so be it.

His mind wandered back to the circumstances of his capture. He remembered fighting, his opponent a blurry figure he couldn't quite put a name to, and he remembered a wand against his head before things went dark. He'd woken up in a cell much like this one, his only company a smattering of those crude and unpleasant Death Eaters. The fingers on Taureau Barkley's wand hand twitched, itching for a chance to let loose against his captor. He concentrated, trying to see in his mind's eye that blurry figure, trying to picture the face. He couldn't. A memory charm, no doubt. This only vexed him more. The thought that his opponent, after besting him in single combat, went as far as to alter his memory of the event was embarrassing, infuriating. Was he even remembering the events correctly? Did he really lose that fight? He had no way of knowing, and likely never would.

These thoughts occupied his mind for most of the boat ride. They cleared from his head at the sound of footsteps. Light and easy. Carefree. They stopped. A figure was standing at the bars of his cell, watching him from the other side. He didn't turn, kept looking into the mirror. After a few seconds, the figure spoke. "It's time to go."

He turned then, looked curiously at his employer. The man went by the name of Blithe, and Blithe smiled in at Taureau Barkley like they were good friends. They were not. "You're breaking me out?" Taureau Barkley asked.

"Yes," said Blithe, tapping his wand to the bars. His cell door sprang open. "I can't have you put in Azkaban. I understand you are a powerful Occlumens, but even the most headstrong and determined individual cannot stay that way after five minutes with a Dementor. The Ministry's Legilimens will crack you eventually, and that would be… unfortunate."

Taureau Barkley stood and walked out of his cell. He took the spare wand Blithe offered, tested its grip. "How gracious of you."

"I agree." Blithe started walking, clearly knowing he would follow. In the cells surrounding them, prisoners begged, pleaded, holding their arms through the bars with desperation leaking from their voices and faces. The two ignored them. "The easier option would have been to kill you, of course. But good help is getting increasingly difficult to come by. Instead, consider this an offer to renew your contract with me."

"And if I refuse?" There were a few seconds in which Blithe looked at him and said nothing, and after a moment Taureau Barkley nodded. "I accept." Blithe looked away, expressionless. They turned a corner, walking fast. "I suppose we should consider ourselves fortunate, though. What would you have done if they'd Floo'd me to Azkaban directly?"

"You think they have fireplaces in Azkaban?"

A snort. "Good point." They approached the next corner. "I must say, this is surprisingly easy. I know you're a big deal and all, but it is still rather impressive that you can just turn up and release a prisoner with no questions asked."

They turned the corner and two dead bodies lay spread-eagled on the ground. Guards, lifeless eyes, no spilled blood. Their faces were calm. They hadn't even known they were about to die before they'd been killed. Blithe didn't slow down, but gave a wry smile as they stepped over the bodies. "I ran into a few complications."

"I see that." Taureau Barkley held his wand a little higher from then on, ready and alert. They approached a set of stairs.

"These lead to the deck," said Blithe. "There should be about ten of them up there, raring for a fight."

"Wait," he said, frowning. "Why don't we just apparate?"

"If anyone could apparate on and off this prison ship, what use would it be?"

"Well what's the plan, then? How are we supposed to get off this damn thing?"

"We jump."

"Excuse me?"

Blithe sounded impatient. "We jump off the ship. Anti-apparition is only active on the ship itself. If we jump off and apparate before we hit the water, we should be fine."

"Should?"

"We'll be fine."

Taureau Barkley wasn't so sure. "We might need another plan."

"Well we don't have one." Blithe started climbing the metal stairs, his footsteps clanging along behind him with each step, and with an inward groan Taureau Barkley followed. He didn't even bother trying to mask his own footsteps. If they were heard, then they were heard.

The two emerged onto the deck. It was dark, raining. Storm clouds roiled and tumbled into each other like fighting bulls. Each foamy wave of the restless, angry ocean rocked the boat as they slapped against the hull. Twelve prison guards stood on deck and stared as the two men walked casually off the metal stairs.

"Ten?" Taureau Barkley whispered from the corner of his mouth.

"I said about ten," Blithe snapped.

"You shouldn't be up here," said one of the guards dumbly.

Blithe smiled good-naturedly. "We're breaking out."

"You're… what?"

"It's quite simple, my friend. You see…"

Taureau Barkley tuned them all out. Though he knew his employer was really a Death Eater, a double-agent among the Dark Lord's enemies, the mysterious man still carried himself like one of Albus Dumbledore's henchmen. The witticisms, attempts at banter before a battle.

Taureau Barkley had little patience for such things.

He raised his wand and cast the spell he prided himself on most. Between the twelve guards and the two men, a small orb about the size of a marble came into being, hovering at waist height. At first none of them noticed it, but then it pulsed, and drew in all eyes. It pulsed again, and in a split second it grew in size exponentially, becoming as big as a wrecking ball. Taureau Barkley turned away, Blithe took the cue to cover his ears and turned too. Neither saw the next pulse, but there was a flash of light like thunder behind them, and a deafening boom. Taureau Barkley felt his ears pop, and a rush of air behind him forced him to take a step, then another, struggling not to be blown off his feet. The pressure behind him stopped suddenly, the noise and the light vanished, and he turned around.

The guards were scattered across the deck, on their backs, on their fronts, folded over railings. None standing. Blithe looked at him. "Good job."

He shrugged. "If I had done it with my own wand, it would have been far stronger. Any chance you know where I can find it?"

"Your wand?" asked Blithe, walking towards one of the guards who was struggling to get back to her feet. "It'll be in the Ministry somewhere, being examined. I could probably get a hold of it, but that would raise some questions."

"What are you doing?"

Blithe glanced back at him, firing a killing curse at the guard without looking. The guard hit the deck, dead. "I can't leave them alive, unfortunately. They've seen my face." He walked on to the next guard, who was still on the ground.

"Just wipe their memories. This is unnecessary."

"For a mercenary, you are strangely squeamish about death."

"As a mercenary," he said through slightly gritted teeth, "I don't kill if I can avoid it. Especially not if a simple Obliviate will suffice."

Blithe looked at him again, killed another guard without looking. "Memory charms can be broken, Mr Barkley."

He cocked his head, watched Blithe kill another, and another. Memory charms could be broken. He would have to remember that, the next time the blurry face of his captor passed through his mind. He had been beaten by someone, and he intended to find out who. "What about the prisoners?" he asked. "Some of them have seen you."

"There will be no prisoners." Another green flash of light. Another dead body. "I wandered about the ship before I reached your cell. With this lot dead, there is not a single living guard on board. I've adjusting the ship's course. In about five minutes, we will run aground of some very sharp, very ship-sinking rocks."

Taureau Barkley stared at him. Even Blithe seemed distasteful about this course of action. "I see." He walked over to the edge of the ship, gripped the railing, and looked down at the churning waves. "We jump right off, then?" Blithe nodded. "And do you have anywhere in mind?"

"I will not require your services for some time," said Blithe. "Go wherever you want. I believe it is Christmas. Find someone to spend it with."

"Understood."

"Anyone special for you, Mr Barkley?" Blithe was smiling, and there was a look in his eyes that Taureau Barkley didn't like. "Any loved ones? Significant others, perhaps?"

He gave Blithe a look, a look that he hoped conveyed his exact thoughts in regards to the question. He did so loathe familiarity. If his expression said mind your own business, then Blithe seemed to take the hint and said no more. Taureau Barkley turned back to look over the railing. He took a deep breath and jumped off.

Falling, falling falling. Air rushing past his face, drops of water running up his cheeks, frothing, crashing ocean getting closer and closer.

He spun. Deliberation. Determination. Destination. Compression, expansion, space pushing and wind hissing, and with a pop, he was home.

He could smell chicken cooking.

"Is that you, Taureau?"

He smiled, walked into the kitchen, and kissed the person that made him feel so lucky.

"Yes."

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It wasn't a party, Lily had to admit. Though music played, very lovely music from a very talented orchestra, no one was dancing. Though food was served, it was paltry food, not even snacks really. Little balls of meat on the ends of toothpicks, fancy crackers with bitter, fancy dip.

The ballroom was crowded, though. Packed full of important people in expensive clothes, chatting and laughing and drinking and conniving their way through the night.

"So I was wrong," she said.

Marlene grinned. "Yep."

Marlene's dress was exquisite. Silky and elegant as it flowed off her frame, but slim and form-fitting. Lily reckoned hers was better though. It belonged to Marlene, of course, but she felt like it had really been made for her. Silver and smooth, hugging her body like a second skin but feeling more comfortable than any she'd worn before. She wondered what James would think. Then she berated herself for caring. Then she wondered what he'd think again.

"There are the MacMillans," said Marlene, pointing to a friendly looking group of people chatting by the drinks table. "And the Abbots. Oh, and there's the Greengrasses. Wow, and some Weasleys, too. Never seen them here before."

"That's nice, Mar," Lily said, scanning the crowd for any real familiar faces.

"Urgh, the Parkinsons. Why were they invited?"

A man and woman prodding each other and sniggering to themselves caught Lily's attention. Something about the woman was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't put a finger on it from this distance. The man, though, was surreal to look at. Put quite simply, he was an older James Potter. Messy black hair peppered with grey, a lop-sided and lined grin, the glasses, the twinkle in the eye, it was uncanny.

Lily's seemingly uncontrollable feelings for the prat of a boy made her head feel light. Obviously, it was James' dad. She therefore felt very weird about the way a lot of the man's features made her feel. It was a rush, a soaring heart, and then she stopped and just felt somewhat gross about the whole thing.

"The Potters!" Marlene grabbed Lily's hand and dragged her to the couple, who looked over as they approached and beamed.

"Marlene," said Mr Potter jovially. "Why, I haven't seen you since you were sixteen!"

"I'm sixteen now, Mr Potter."

"That's the spirit!"

"Marlene," said Mrs Potter, smiling at her. "So lovely to see you, dear. And your friend, of course," she added, turning to Lily and grasping her hand. "Euphemia Potter. And this is my husband, Fleamont."

"I'm her husband," said Mr Potter.

"Hello," said Lily, struggling to control her smile. Oh, she wanted to impress them. She really wanted to impress them. "I'm Lily." Good job, said a voice in her head.

"Lily goes to school with us," said Marlene. "I'm sure James has mentioned her."

Mrs Potter frowned. "Should he have?" She looked at Lily again. "Oh my, you're his girlfriend, aren't you?"

"No," said Lily. She was so close to saying not yet instead that she almost bit her tongue. "No, we're just friends."

Marlene frowned. "Black hasn't said anything about Lily?"

"He might have," said Mrs Potter thoughtfully. She was clearly thinking back, looking deep in thought.

"Will you marry my son?" Mr Potter asked Lily, smiling politely.

"What?"

"He's not that bad, really. Sure, there's his face and personality to work around, but once you get over that he can be quite charming."

"You look just like him, dear," Mrs Potter sighed. "Face and all."

"But his personality, Euphy, it's just terrible-"

"Excuse my husband," Mrs Potter told the girls. "He thinks he's funny."

"Well the apple certainly didn't fall far from the tree," snorted Marlene.

"The apple fell so far from the tree," said Mr Potter, "it's in another orchard."

"You don't have to marry our son," Mrs Potter told Lily. "We'd love for you to take him off our hands, but we can hardly throw the boy at you."

"Don't worry," said Lily. Her voice was too high. "I don't intend to."

Mrs Potter's smile thinned. "Are you saying there's something wrong with my boy?"

"Oh dear," said Marlene.

"What?" said Lily, horrified.

"You think you're so much better than him?"

"No!" This was going terribly. "No, no, no, I don't think that at all! Potter- J-James is amazing! Honest, I think the world of your son right now, in fact I wish I was-"

Mrs Potter grinned widely and put a hand on Lily's shoulder. "Only joking!" Lily's jaw dropped. Mr Potter guffawed and clapped his hands. Marlene was sniggering beside her. "Really, you might be too good for our son, dear," Mrs Potter continued, looking quite sad. "Fleamont, maybe we should start looking for dumb ones. I heard the youngest Parkinson girl is quite pretty."

Mr Potter made a face. "I don't want to be related to the Parkinsons."

"The disgusting thing about Pure-blood families, dear," said Mrs Potter thoughtfully, "is that I think you already are."

Lily winced. Marlene tried to seize the conversation before it could go too far down that rabbit-hole. "Where is Potter, anyway? I can't see him and Black anywhere."

Immediately, Lily snapped her gaze to Mr and Mrs Potter's faces. The hope flaring inside her was shameful, but she couldn't help it. James being here would make her day. Merlin, it would make her Christmas break.

"I don't think they're coming," said Mrs Potter.

"I saw them getting dressed all fancy, though," Mr Potter said, frowning. "Maybe they'll turn up later."

Lily's heart plummeted. A drab night it would be, then. Surprisingly, Marlene's response captured a fragment of Lily's disappointment in her tone. "Oh. Well, alright then. We'll see you guys later, I suppose."

The Potters waved goodbye and left, with Mrs Potter lecturing her husband about something as they walked off.

"What now?" asked Lily, failing to reign in all of the misery in her voice.

"I don't know." Again, Marlene sounded just as downtrodden.

Lily looked around, wondering what the whole point of this stupid party was, anyway. She looked at Marlene as a random thought struck her. "Hey," she said cautiously, "you don't think… he… will be here, do you?"

Years ago, Marlene had confided in Lily and Alice a fact about herself that she had gone to great lengths to hide from the rest of their peers. There was a name Lily and Alice had been forbidden from saying, lest they suffer Marlene's wrath.

"Probably," said Marlene despondently. "This night just keeps getting worse."

Lily couldn't help but agree with her.

A house-elf appeared by their side suddenly, bearing a torn piece of parchment. "This just arrived for you, mistress," the house-elf squeaked.

Marlene took the parchment, and Lily thanked the house-elf before looking over her friend's shoulder. She recognized the handwriting immediately. She didn't know when she had learned his handwriting. Maybe it was during the many times she had watched him write lines in detention. She hadn't known she'd paid such close attention for so long. Merlin, for just how long had she really liked him?

She wasn't sure she wanted the answer to that.

Friends,

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs cordially invite you all to the Marauders' Feast. (Address is on the back). Moony wishes to request that someone brings Muggle money, as Messrs Padfoot and Prongs must confess to have none at all. Whosoever does bring money shall be handsomely compensated. Wormtail has - there, five pence was crossed out and replaced with ten pence - but we are not sure if that is very much or very little at this stage. We are cautiously optimistic, but please, do bring us some more.

Christmas is a time to be with those important to us, and at the risk of sounding like some Hufflepuffs, we include you lot in that. We want to see you. We have sent multiple copies of this out to you all - that is Frank, Alice, Lily, and Marlene, but Mr Padfoot would like to emphasize Marlene in particular. He wants to see you. Prongs doesn't think a group letter is the place for that, but Padfoot reminds Prongs that it is Christmas, which Prongs considers to be a fair argument. Evans. You had better come.

Regards,

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Marlene wasted no time. She looked at Lily and folded the parchment away. "Go grab your purse."

Lily's nod was swift. "Meet you in five."

They ended up meeting in two, such as it was, and met in the corridor leading to the ballroom. They apparated to London, navigated through the beautifully decorated Muggle streets, weaving through the hordes of people. The Christmas trees and pretty lights at any other time would have rendered Lily distracted and awestruck, but right then she didn't care. Or at least, she barely did. When they reached the place written on the parchment, the two girls looked at each other in confusion, thinking they'd read it wrong.

It was a takeaway shop, small and cheap looking. But inside, sitting around a curved booth by the window, were six familiar faces.

Marlene and Lily grinned at each other and walked in. Six heads turned, faces lighting up at the two girls, and the group cheered. Frank and Alice budged up along at the end to make space. Peter smiled at them both. Remus grinned widely. Sirius said something dumb to Marlene, and she reached across and punched him, a toothy grin of her own spreading quickly across her face.

Lily's eyes held James, and he grinned that stupid grin at her, and he was so stupid. And dumb.

None of this stopped her heart from skipping a beat. Her own dumb grin captured her face, despite her best efforts, and it felt like her blood was flowing faster. The others were all laughing at Sirius for something, but she and James took no notice.

"I referred to you as James, earlier today," she told him, her voice much more level than she felt.

"What on earth prompted you to do that?"

"Your mother."

"You met my mother?"

"And your dad."

"I'm so sorry."

"Yeah."

"Did they like you?"

She grimaced. "It's hard to say."

He smiled at her, a genuine, warm smile. "She would have loved you, I reckon."

Lily matched his smile. "Why's that?"

"You're just so incredibly perfect. Of course she did."

Why did he have to say that? Why? She had just started relaxing, but now she felt the color flood her face. She could not let him know how badly she'd fallen.

James was looking at her, his expression growing somewhat thoughtful, and his smile widened. "Yeah," he continued. "You'll fit right in, I bet."

"What does that mean?"

"What?"

"I'll fit right in. What, with your family?"

"I- I don't know."

She was relaxing again. Composure. Calm. "Really, Potter, what did that mean?"

"Nothing."

"It sounded like something." Just keep teasing him.

"Honest, Evans, it was nothing."

"I don't know, Potter. It sounded a lot like something-"

"What's something?" asked Frank. The rest of them looked at the two.

"Nothing," said James and Lily at the same time.

She flashed him a smile, met his eyes, and promptly felt her composure slipping again. Lily sat next to Alice quickly and put her hands in her lap.

"So," said Marlene, dropping down next to Lily, "why here, of all places? Surely not for the ambience?"

"We found this place last year," said Sirius. "We were dead drunk, and-"

"You were fifteen last year," Lily found herself saying.

"Good work, Evans," Sirius said encouragingly. "So we were dead drunk, and stumbling about the place, and-"

"And you found it," said Marlene shortly. "Is that where your story's going?"

"There's more build-up first," Sirius grumbled. "It gets really funny."

"I'm sure," said Alice dryly.

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, and Frank cut him off. "There's a party next week."

James perked up. "The Wasps one?" Frank nodded. "Good thinking, Longbottom!" James looked at the rest. "The Wasps, they're a Quidditch team, Lily-"

"I know that."

"Doubt it. But they're doing this charity thing for New Year's at their stadium in Wimbourne. The Falcons will be there, the Harpies, some Tornados players I think, too. The after-party is all anyone's talking about."

"You reckon we can get in?" Frank asked.

James nodded. "I'll find a way."

The others chattered on about the party. They would all attend, Lily among them, of course. She let her gaze wander as they sorted out the details. They were all squished into the booth, cosy and happy and, well, jolly. It was everything Lily could have wanted.

A radio sat on a windowsill by the counter of the little shop. It played Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, and Lily had to stop herself from singing along.

Instead she let herself enjoy the moment, watching her friends as they talked and laughed around her. To Lily, it was the perfect moment. She wondered how many more like it they would have.

Through the years, we all will be together-

Sirius smacked James on the back of the head, Remus and Peter and Marlene sniggered and pointed, Frank and Alice whispered to each other and laughed quietly.

If the fates allow…

Lily's gaze rested finally on James. It was strange how quickly she seemed to have changed her mind on him. But at the same time she suspected it hadn't been quick at all. Rather, it was a gradual feeling that she'd noticed now only because it was too big not to. Maybe she'd liked him for a while. Maybe she always had. Some part of her, at least. The rest of her had just caught up.

James made a joke and they laughed, and he ruffled his hair and winked at Lily.

Marlene nudged her. "Seriously, I hate to go on about it," she said, "but I still don't understand why you don't fancy him. I think you might really be missing out."

James was still looking at her.

"Hm," was all Lily could say.