"Any volunteers?" the man with the clipboard had called, and by some ridiculous stroke of luck James had been chosen. He stood there, on the bright morning of the last day of December, in the middle of the stadium, the crowd screaming and chanting all around him, every seat taken, every eye on him. He could barely make out the faces of his friends, sitting halfway up the stands. For a charity event, it was being taken very, very seriously.

"Thanks for choosing me," James said, shaking the man's hand.

"I didn't really choose you. You just screamed and ran onto the grass when I asked for volunteers."

"You looked at me and pointed."

"Because you were screaming and running onto the grass. The guards wanted to stun you."

A roguish grin. "Well, I'm James. Pleased to meet you."

After a moment of looking unimpressed, the man sighed, lifted his clipboard. "Alright, kid. Surname?"

"Potter."

The double-take. The quick once-over, shoulders straightening, forced smile rising. "That's, well, that's excellent! This way, if you please. Let's get you ready, eh?"

Wimbourne stadium was massive. Tucked into a mountain, far away from prying Muggle eyes, it was one of the biggest Quidditch stadiums in England. The stands rose high into the air, the open dome sealing them all in while still allowing the sunlight to stream down, taking the edge off the frosty winter air. The grass was dewy. Charms had been cast to prevent snow from building up. It was due to one of professional Quidditch's many odd rules. The ground must be a hard, bone-breaking consequence. It supposedly built character and encouraged better flying.

"Mr Potter, meet the Wimbourne Wasps!"

Before James were seven British heroes, tall and proud, good-looking and immensely talented. He reckoned he fit right in.

"Alright, mate?" said Ludo Bagman, the Ludo Bagman, the man with his face splashed on the front of every Witch Weekly, every sports page, plastered on the bedroom walls of every young boy or girl who gave a toss about Quidditch.

James shook his hand, opened his mouth to say something funny, but the man with the clipboard cut him off, his voice magnified and carrying to every corner of the stadium. "Okay, folks! Our first lucky volunteer, Mr James Potter, will now take a crack at playing with the Wimbourne Wasps! Do you think he'll do alright?"
The crowd's roar picked up, deafeningly loud. James couldn't tell if they were being supportive or abusive. From the few words he could make out, it was a mixture.

"You ready, James?" asked Ludo. "We're going to run an arrowhead with you at the front. I'll pass you the Quaffle, and you take a shot at the posts. Think you can do that?"

"Of course," said James, grinning easily and pretending his hands weren't shaking like crazy.

"You'll be shooting against me," said Emmeline Jones. "I'm the Keeper."

A few years ago, James would have fainted to have Emmeline Jones even look at him. The dreams he had had of this woman… they were not flattering. He cleared his throat. "I know. Ma'am. Miss. Em- Emmeline. Emmeline Jones."

Ludo sounded amused. "Great. You're the first volunteer of the day, Potter. Try to start the New Year's Eve celebration off well for us. It's for charity, after all."

Frankly, James didn't care what it was for. He was about to play with the Wasps.

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Lily didn't think playing with the Wasps was such a big deal, but everyone else in the stadium seemed to. "I don't think playing with the Wasps is such a big deal," Lily said.

The spectators around her, friends included, gave her dirty looks.

"Lily," said Marlene, "I love you, but I think you should shut your mouth and wait for someone to ask for your opinion."

"Marlene!"

"No, she's right, Evans," said Sirius gravely. "Shut it."

People were still glaring at her. Alice, sitting next to her, nudged her slightly. "They take this stuff quite seriously," she whispered.

"I'm picking up on that now, yeah."

"I agree with you, personally," said Remus, on her other side. "But it's all about tact, Lily."

"Yep. Noted."

"I agree, too," said Alice quietly. "But sharing interests is a big part of friendships. Even if we don't care about a thing, we should still care that they care about the thing."

Lily noticed that Alice's eyes drifted over to Frank, who had a pair of omnioculars over his eyes and was jumping excitedly. She smiled slightly. "I see."

Alice saw her smile and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You still like Frank."

"Of course I still like Frank, Lily. I wasn't just going to stop."

"Well, Alice, he likes you."

Alice nodded like Lily was slow. "I already know that."

"Then… why aren't you together?"

Alice sighed. "I've been asking him the same thing for weeks. He has all sorts of dumb reasons."

"Like?"

She made a face. "Well, we were best friends for years, weren't we? Then he got with Amelia Fawcett, I got mad, we drifted apart, I realized I like him, he broke up with Amelia, and now he's scared. Romantic stuff has damaged our friendship. He doesn't think we should take the next step."

"He's…" Lily hesitated. "He's not wrong, is he? Those are some good reasons."

Alice looked frustrated. "I just don't see why two people who clearly like each other shouldn't be together!"

"What if it's not up to them?" asked Lily, feeling her face start to color. "What if they're not right for each other? They're too different, and they fight all the time?"

Alice frowned. "That doesn't really sound like me and Frank."

She liked him.

"And they finally get along, so why ruin that?"

She liked him so much.

"Frank and I have always gotten along. We were best friends, Lily, weren't you listening?"

She hadn't done anything about it, though. Why not? "Not when you were fighting. You didn't get along then." That's why.

"Whose side are you on?"

"What if you do get together, and then you break up and it's never the same again?" That's why.

These thoughts, having recently occurred to her, festering in her mind over the last few days, sprang from her mouth without control.

Alice looked incredulous. "Merlin, have you and Frank been talking about this?"

"No, of course not. I'm only saying, Alice," Lily said carefully, not even looking at her friend, "just because two people like each other, it doesn't mean they have to be together. If you like something, I mean really, really like something, wouldn't it be best to just leave it be? I mean, it would be so easy to ruin that thing. And you like it so much so… what if it's best to just stay away?"

"Lily, you were the one you was pestering me just now, saying that Frank and I should be together because we like each other!"

"I still think you should be together," said Lily quickly.

Alice rubbed her eyes. "Then what are you trying to say?"

"Just that," Lily bit her lip, "in some situations, people just shouldn't be together. That it wouldn't work."

Alice looked at her expectantly. "But...?"

"But," said Lily, "you and Frank are not those people. You're absolutely good together. Some people aren't, that's all. So I was arguing your point. About people liking each other. For argument's sake."

"Oh," said Alice, letting out a laugh. "We're arguing about nothing, then."

"Yes." Lily looked out at the flying figures in the sky with pursed lips, but not really seeing them. "Absolutely nothing."

They were quiet for a few seconds. Eventually, a cheer went up all around them. "James just scored," said Remus awkwardly.

Lily nodded, spotting the messy haired figure in the sky and forcing herself to find interest in the sport. "Fantastic."

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After scoring, James landed on the ground and hoisted his broomstick in the air, lent to him by the man with the clipboard. It was the latest, most expensive broomstick on the market, and it had been amazing to fly with. He handed it back to the clipboard man with great reluctance.

While the clipboard man was calling to the audience for the next volunteer to keep the show going, Ludo landed beside James and clapped his shoulder. "You've got moves, Potter. What year are you?"

"Sixth."

"Hm. The scouts we send to Hogwarts are usually only looking for Seventh Years. I reckon I can put a word in, though - see if we can't steal you away. What do you think?"

James wasn't keen on the idea of leaving Hogwarts before Seventh Year for Quidditch, but he didn't articulate that. "Maybe. Thanks."

Ludo grinned, made to lift back off the ground. "Don't mention it."

Before the sports star could fly off, James cleared his throat and spoke fast. "Hey. Do you reckon you can do me another favor?"

"Other than a Quidditch career on a silver platter? Sure, Potter. What is it?"

James didn't bother looking abashed. "I hear there's a party tonight, here in Wimbourne. To ring in the new year."

"Yeah?" Ludo sounded amused. "What about it?"

"Well, it's all anyone's talking about. I heard it'll be the who's who of parties. Everyone worth mentioning will be there."

"Yes, they will," said Ludo. "And a lot of people have already tried talking to me about it. Let me guess. You want me to let you, a seventeen year old boy-"

"Sixteen."

"-into a party full of the rich and famous, and alcohol and other adult things that you shouldn't be near, for which invitations are extremely sought after? You want me to let you in there?"

"And my friends," said James.

"How many friends?"

"Seven."

"You and your seven friends."

"Yep."

Ludo sighed. "And why should I do that?"

James grinned. "Because I know people. Have you heard of Caradoc Dearborn and Anton Windstrum?"

"The auror and the teacher? Sure, Windstrum was a big deal in the Ministry a few years ago, but they're hardly notable now."

"Yes, but they're good friends with Sawyer Hughes. I'm sure you've heard whispers that he'll be our next Minister of Magic."

Ludo nodded, looking interested now. "Of course."

"Well, I can reach him, through them . So after all this Quidditch business is over and you retire, should you want a Ministry job, I'm a good person to know."

Ludo's eyes narrowed. "How do you know I'd like a Ministry job after retirement?"

"You said so in a Witch Weekly interview," James said quickly, his ears reddening. "So, what do you say?"

Ludo looked at him for a while. "You really reckon you could reach Sawyer Hughes? And he would listen to you?"

"Definitely."

"Of course you'd say that, though."

"Well, yeah. I'm not going to say no, am I?"

"But you're telling the truth? You're really in with the future Minister of Magic?"

James nodded.

Ludo looked torn. "I shouldn't, Potter."

"Go on."

"There is every reason not to."

"But what is your heart telling you?"

"Not to."

"Oh."

After another few seconds, Ludo sighed and scratched his head. "Fine. Damn it, fine. Talk to me in a couple hours. I'll get you in."

James beamed and nodded. "Yes! Thank you, Ludo."

"Go tell your seven stupid friends," Ludo mumbled, kicking off the ground and flying over to the man with the clipboard.

James clapped his hands together and set off to do just that.

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At eight'o'clock, the group of teens stood on a beach, cold and confused and staring at the side of a cliff. Its peak loomed high above them, indiscernible in the darkness, but they could make out the rough and jagged surface of the cliff's face before them.

"This is the place?" Frank asked James.

"This is the place," James confirmed.

Frank frowned at the wall of rock, looked hard at it, but it didn't spontaneously turn into the raucous party in a mansion they had been promised. "Well it doesn't look like the place."

James walked forward and placed his palm against the rock. He pushed. Nothing happened. He pushed again. "Bugger."

"What?"

"I thought it would be like Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, where the wall is invisible and we just walk through."

"You don't know how to get inside?"

"Ludo didn't tell me that part, okay?"

"Then what did he tell you?" asked Marlene.

"He told me I have good moves," said James.

"Quidditch moves?"

"Yes."

The other seven groaned and started walking away. Frank shook his head at the boy and shoved his cold hands in his pockets.

"Wait!" They paused, turned cautiously. "I think I've found it!" Slowly, the group walked back and peered at the wall, where James was poking his wand into one of the crevices. He wiggled it a bit and closed his eyes, and a section of the rock wall in front of them slid open cleanly, like a sliding French door. On the other side was a cavern, with torches hung on brackets sitting on its stone walls. And the cavern was filled with people. Perhaps forty young witches and wizards lined up, dressed in their best dresses and robes and dress robes, and shouting and pleading towards someone deeper in the cavern.

The eight teens glanced at one another, James spared a moment to look at them all smugly, and they walked into the cavern. James didn't even seem to consider waiting at the back of the line, as he strutted through the cavern and past all the waiting hopefuls with the same easy confidence and puffed up chest that he'd walked through the corridors of Hogwarts with for the last six years. He'd toned it down in recent months, but for this walk he'd clearly chosen to tone it all the way up. Frank certainly couldn't fault his conviction.

At the far end of the cavern, standing in front of a concave wall with a wooden door built into it, was a heavy-set man wearing glasses and holding a long roll of parchment that trailed down to skim the ground. He didn't seem impressed that the group had skipped the line, and held up a meaty hand to stop them before they even reached him.

"We're on the list," said James confidently. "Look under Ludo Bagman."

The man looked at James for a few long seconds, before slowly checking the list. "Names?" They told him their names and he nodded and looked back up at James.

"You're on the list. But you all look a little young to come in here."

James nodded. "That's really nice of you to say. Can we come in now?"

"I need to ask for some identification, I'm afraid."

"Do wizards even have identification?" Lily whispered.

"I do," said Frank, stepping forward and pulling his apparition license from his pocket. "Here you go."

The man glanced at it and nodded. "And the rest of you?"

"It's alright," Frank said with an easy smile. "They're with me."

"Saying they're with you is not going to get them in," the man said.

The wooden door in the rock wall opened up behind him, and Ludo Bagman poked his head out. "There you are, Potter." He looked at the man. "It's alright, they're with me."

Exhaling heavily through his nose, the man stepped aside, looking pained. Ludo ushered them all in. Sirius nodded to him eagerly, and Marlene was red-faced and not meeting his eyes. But Frank wasn't the type to get starstruck. He kept himself level-headed and calm.

"I love you," he blurted.

Ludo hesitated and opened his mouth.

"I've loved you since the World Cup in seventy-four. I have posters of you on all the walls in my room back home, I used to cut out all the headlines from the newspapers every time you won a game, I-"

"Alright, Longbottom," said Alice, grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him on. "This is sad."

Torn between agreeing with her and wanting to turn back to bow at Ludo's feet, Frank eventually nodded and mumbled, "Okay."

There was no shortage of other things to look at. The teens had walked into the high-ceilinged entrance hall of a mansion. It had to be a mansion. Frank had grown up in a Pure-blood household, he had seen Potter Manor, and Prewett Place, had even glimpsed the legendary Selwyns' residence and Malfoy Manor, but still he found himself taken aback by the decadence on display before him. The floors gleamed like they were sweating, the walls rich with magical artefacts worthy of museums and moving paintings so vivid and obscure and stupid that they had to be worth millions of Galleons. The chandelures were shiny, and so sharp, so filled with precious gems, that if they were to fall they could be re-used to fight wars with dragons and giants.

Juxtaposed with the elegance and class of the place, countless rowdy witches and wizards crowded the large hall, spilling their drinks, laughing, knocking over priceless items on pedestals, staining the walls, and throwing a true and proper party for the ages.

"Wicked," Frank murmured.

There was Celestina Warbeck, giggling away as she ran at the top of the stairs, dragging along a handsome man wearing a hastily unbuttoned shirt and a silly smile by the hand. They were heading for one of the many arched doorways leading to some other glamorous part of the manor, and Frank could only guess what they intended to get up to.

Emmeline Jones, Keeper for the Wasps, was playing a game of drinking mini-Quidditch with some of her teammates, a favorite party past-time albeit a terribly complex one. The lead singer of the Fortuna Majors was leaning against a pillar, green-faced. Sports stars and politicians, war-time heroes from the Grindelwald era and famous musicians streamed in and out of the hall, running through the doorways or chatting amiably to one another, and Frank could only stare in wonder.

"This," said Alice quietly, "is unreal."

"Yeah," said Frank, his voice vacant. "Overwhelming to say the least. Should we even be here?"

Alice looked at him and took his hand. "No." So she led him right into the thick of things, not caring, walking past the most famous faces in the world without even looking twice.

She had changed so much, and he had put this off for so long. Frank found all his thoughts, all his feelings for the girl come surging to the forefront of his mind, and he couldn't wait any longer to say what he reckoned he should have long since said.

He tugged her hand. "Alice."

She stopped, looked at him and smiled. "Yeah?"

"I…" So familliar, so beautiful. So important to him. "I really care about you."

She reached out and took his other hand. "I really care about you, too, Frank."

He nodded, hesitated, and-

"Party," yelled Marlene, coming from behind them and grabbing them both by the shoulders.

"Party," Sirius concurred with glee, running ahead of them towards Emmeline Jones and the drinking mini-Quidditch table.

Frank could only spare Alice what he hoped was a smile that somehow told her what he was thinking, before they reached the table and the professional Quidditch players turned to look at the four teens.

"Rules," Emmeline said loudly, her voice slurring slightly as she surveyed them piously. "You must down your drinks before sitting at the table!"

"Uh," said Alice, "we don't have any drinks."

She blinked, and turned to look at the top of the stairs, where the drummer from the Brazen Hinkypunks was chatting to a lady in an elegant dress. "Get these kids some damn drinks!" The man looked down at the group in surprise and frowned slightly. "Yes, I'm talking to you, Vincent! Cece's not interested, stop flirting and go get us some drinks!" She looked back at the teens and smiled warmly. "Won't be a minute, loves. What are your names?"

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"My name's James," James said loudly, and all those at the drinks table down the corridor from the entrance hall cheered and clapped him on the back.

"James," roared a wizard with a pointy black hat on his head.

"James," chorused the rest of them.

"Go on, James, drink with us!"

He pretended to think about it, then beamed. "Alright. I'm going to drink with you!"

They all paused and looked at each other, then they cheered again, louder, and raised their drinks, spilling froth on the floor.

"Try this one, James," said Barnaby Walsh, Beater for the Tornados, sliding a fat glass of dark brown liquid across the table to him.

James sniffed it. "What in the world is this?"

"Whiskey!"

"Just… whiskey? Not firewhisky?"

Lily was by his side, leaning against the table and looking amused. "It's a Muggle drink, Potter. Different from firewhisky."

He peered down at it. "Just whiskey, huh? Does it taste nice?"

She shrugged. "Depends who you ask."

"I'm asking you."

Lily grinned and shook her head. "It's awful."

James loved seeing her grin. She grinned at him quite often these days, and James dreaded the day it stopped having this effect on him. He very much doubted that day would ever come, though.

"So are you going to drink it?" she asked.

"Yeah," called Barnaby Walsh,"go on, James!"

Without letting his eyes leave Lily's, James lifted the glass to his lips and downed it in one. He shuddered. "That's awful!" The rest of them cheered. James nodded to Lily. "Go on, Evans. What about you?"

Reluctantly, she smiled and indicated to Barnaby. A glass full of whiskey slid over to her, and she lifted it, looking James hard in the eyes now.

"Wait," said Barnaby urgently, "what's your name?"

"Lily," she said.

James grinned, and joined the rest of them in what he knew was coming. "Lily," they all yelled, raising their glasses and spilling their drinks.

Some short hours later, James dazedly found himself in a large room down one of the many lined corridors of the mansion. He stood at one end of a long table, and all those crowding the walls of the room cheered and watched eagerly. At the other end of the table stood a man called Clarke, a columnist for the Daily Prophet. Resting on James' end of the table, right in front of him, was his wand. At Clarke's end was a glass full of Heidelberg mead.

Ludo Bagman stood by the middle of the table, swaying and unsteady. "Three. Two…"

They waited.

"Two."

James frowned, looked at Ludo.

"Three."

James and Clarke sighed, the tension leaving them as they-

"One!"

James snatched his wand up as Clarke grabbed the glass and lifted it and- "Expelliarmus!"

The glass flew through the air, James caught it, and downed the mead in one big gulp. He slammed the glass down on the table.

The room erupted.

"That's the fourth one in a row," Sirius yelled from behind him, ruffling James' hair.

"One," repeated Ludo, stumbling a little and waiting for something to happen.

"You're on fire, Prongs," said Remus, grinning, a little red in the face.

"That's our James," warbled Peter.

Emmeline Jones gave him a thumbs up from across the room, and James almost fainted.

"I'll handle him," said a tall man, unshaven and long-haired. He was an auror, from what James knew. Phillip, or something of the sort.

James grinned at the challenge. "You're on, mate."

The crowd around the room called out approvingly at the continued entertainment, placing their bets in the currency of voices. James put his wand on the table again, and a full glass was placed in front of Phillip.

Barnaby replaced Ludo, who was talking to the wall.

"Three. Two… One!"

James grabbed his wand. "Expelliarmus!"

The glass soared through the air and he caught it, looked at it triumphantly. It was empty.

Phillip smacked his lips. "That's good mead." The crowd roared, beside themselves at the upset. People clapped and patted Phillip's back, while James glared at the auror and folded his arms. Phillip looked over at him. "Alright, Potter. It's your turn now."

With his eyes narrowed, James pocketed his wand and Phillip rested his own wand in front of him. A glass of mead appeared in front of James.

"Three," said Barnaby. "Two… One!"

Just as soon as James could lift his glass, it was plucked front his hands and caught by Phillip. The crowd went wild again. James didn't bother watching them congratulate the auror, sighing in frustration and turning to his friends instead. The crowd was done with him.

"Tough luck, Prongs," said Sirius, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"Yeah," said James. "But I don't even care-"

"Hold that thought, mate," Sirius said, looking off to the side with a quickly. "I think McKinnon wants to talk."

James watched with a frown as his friend joined Marlene at one of the small tables lining the walls. He turned to Remus and Peter to see what they made of that, but they both only smiled sympathetically at him.

"It's okay, James," said Remus, nodding and rubbing his back. "It's going to be okay."

James slapped his hand away. "Why are you so nurturing when you're drunk?"

"There, there, James," said Peter, offering him a simpering smile.

James groaned and left the two of them, making his way to a small table with a spare seat. It was no coincidence that the table's only other occupant had rabid red hair.

"What's wrong, Potter?" asked Lily. "Did you realize you're not actually the best at everything?"

He smiled appreciatively at her. "Yeah."

She smiled back. James looked away, back at Sirius and Marlene. "Hey, do you reckon there's something going on between those two?"

She turned. "Who, Black and Mar?" She shook her head and laughed. "No."

"But-"

"Trust me. There is nothing."

"Evans," James insisted, "they sure seem to act like there's something going on. Look at them!"

Sirius and Marlene were both leaning in over their table, and making rather strong eye contact in James' opinion.

Lily shook her head again. "Potter, believe me, even if those two liked each other, nothing would ever happen."

"Why not?"

"Sometimes people liking each other just isn't enough."

"You don't think Sirius is good enough for her or something?"

"That's not it."

"Then what?"

She grimaced. "I can't tell you. Sorry."

"Evans," James said, feeling frustrated, "why shouldn't two people who like each other be together?" His words brought a small smile to her lips, which only frustrated him more. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head once again.

James sighed and leaned back in his seat. Phillip was playing against someone else now. The game was fondly referred to as Quickdraw, and was rarely played at Hogwarts, due mostly to the school's strict policy regarding the use of spells on other students. James, of course, cared very little for the rules, but finding a willing partner that wasn't Sirius, Remus, or Peter often proved far more difficult. Phillip won again, and his next opponent stepped up soon after. Again and again Phillip won, and James felt a scowl capture his face, deepening with each win. He really was a very sore loser, he'd be the first to admit it.

"Potter."

James turned to see Craig Bunnings, a member of the Wasps' coaching staff, beckoning him over. He hesitated, glanced at Lily quickly, before getting up and approaching the man, who nodded to him.

"How do you do, Potter?"

"Great-"

"Great. Now, Ludo was talking to me earlier. Before he… lost his focus. He reckons you've got talent."

James nodded. "I do."

"Good. Ever thought about playing professionally?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good. You've made quite an impression on the team, and we'd love to have a chat with you about a variety of things. This isn't an offer, by the way. We will still have to scout you, check out your games at Hogwarts. But if you're good enough, we can steal you away as early as next season."

James stared. He was good enough. He had no doubt about that. And yet… "I don't know, sir. I want to finish my education."

Craig surveyed him for a few seconds, before shrugging. "We'll talk regardless, eh? We're not desperate to have you, make no mistake. But finding and cultivating talent is my passion, and I've got a good feeling about you. I can't guarantee this offer will still be on the table by the end of your Seventh Year, but... we'll discuss that later." With a curt nod, he strode off.

James watched with wide eyes as he left. Bad decision? Perhaps. But he was sure it was the right one. He wasn't ready to leave Hogwarts. With a sigh, James left the room, thinking hard. Was Quidditch really even all he wanted to do with his life after Hogwarts? Was it significant enough, would it satisfy him enough? James wasn't sure.

He emerged into the corridor, saw movement to his left, and turned. Then he stared, jaw dropping. Sirius and Marlene were wrapped around each other, wrestling on the spot, snogging furiously. James grinned and clapped his hands, and they paused and looked at him. "I knew it! I knew you guys-"

"Prongs," said Sirius, in a husky voice that James never wanted to hear again, "bugger off."

Marlene's expression said the same.

After a moment, James nodded and turned on his heel. Still smiling to himself smugly he walked the other way, quite pleased. He had absolutely predicted it. Sirius liked Marlene, and Marlene liked Sirius. Lily was wrong.

His thoughts clouded at that. Something about the way she had phrased her words… James had thought, had dared to allow himself to think, with all the changes in his relationship with Lily, that maybe the time was right. Maybe he should finally jump in the deep end, put everything on the line. Because he was sure she liked him. And if she did, why shouldn't they be together? Surely, he was reading all the signs right. He had to be.

As he walked, footsteps approached from behind him. Witches and wizards started overtaking him through the corridors, hurrying past excitedly. When he spotted Frank and Alice passing him, he stopped them. "What's happening?"

"We're all heading out to the beach," said Alice, grinning from ear to ear. "There's going to be a show!"

"Come on, James," said Frank, draping an arm around Alice's shoulders without seeming to even think about it. Alice looked at him in surprise and her grin widened further still. "You'll miss it at this rate!"

The two set off ahead of him, leaving James to trundle along after everyone hurrying out to catch the new year. When he reached the entrance someone tapped him on the shoulder, and James turned to see Sirius and Marlene, arms round each other's waists, dilated pupils, ruffled hair and slightly unbuttoned and loose clothing, panting in front him.

"We're off, mate," said Sirius, looking very, very pleased with himself.

"You're not staying until midnight? It's not far off."

"Nah, we have urgent things to do." Marlene sniggered and Sirius nudged her. "So, happy new year and all that. I'll be back home tomorrow, I reckon. I don't know."

James smirked. "Right. Well, happy new year to you, too. And look after him, McKinnon!"

Marlene saluted, and then broke into a fit of giggles. Sirius giggled alongside her. Oh, they were quite drunk.

The two left, and James stood in the entrance hall as everyone rushed around him, feeling very sober, and unusually lonely.

"Chin up, Potter. Haven't you heard it's a party?"

He turned, and Lily was there. Suddenly, he felt tired of playing games. "Do you like me, Evans?"

She stared. Opened her mouth and made no noise.

"I need to know. Do you like me?"

"Potter…"

"It's a simple question."

She shook her head. "It's not a simple question. It's more complicated than that."

"What's complicated, Evans?"

"People, Potter! People are complicated. They fight, and they hate, and they hold grudges over the silliest things! They're proud and they're arrogant, or they're prissy and misjudging!"

James frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

She stomped her foot in frustration. "Everything. Good things are ruined because people are dumb. Things that are really, really good. Really. Do you understand what I'm saying, Potter?"

He hesitated. "I think so. I think I get your point. But what stands out more to me is what you haven't said. I asked you a question, Evans, and though I tentatively think you've tried to answer it, you seem to be refusing to say tell me outright. Evans, do you like me?"

Why wouldn't she just say it? She looked torn, incredibly torn as she held off responding for as long as she could, and then she looked sad. "I can't answer that, Potter. I won't ruin- I won't answer it. I can't let myself."

He nodded. He didn't allow himself to be swallowed by the raw feelings that threatened to envelop him. "Okay," he said. He turned and followed the crowd outside. Idiot. When he emerged onto the beach, there were already hundreds of people there, not all of them celebrities. Stupid idiot. Someone was doing a dance performance in front of a bonfire and everyone clapped when it finished. Bubbles flew into the air, impossibly large bubbles the size of wrecking balls, changing color as they drifted higher and eventually popping softly, sending down the tiniest of colored droplets that faded into nothingness when they reached the ground. Everyone ooh'd. Stupid bleeding idiot. The background singers of the Brazen Hinkypunks sang a song about having a good party. Everyone cheered. Before long, the countdown was upon them.

"Ten!"

Grins all around, people finding those they cared for most in the crowd.

"Nine!"

James sighed and looked around disinterestedly as Eight, Seven and Six were chanted out.

At Five, he spotted Lily. They made eye contact, and he looked away, stared instead at the bonfire. Stupid idiot.

"Four!"

He was regretting coming to this party, around then. Regretting the whole day. It was dumb.

"Three!"

Everyone had coupled off by that point. Almost everyone, James corrected with a snort.

"Two!"

He shoved his hands in his pockets. And things had all been going so promisingly.

"One!"

Ah, well.

"Happy New Year!"

Fireworks went off, loud, vibrant things that James barely glanced at. Frank and Alice kissed, finally, wrapped up in each other's arms and holding on like they intended to never let go, and James spared a moment to at least be happy for them. He turned, walked past Ludo Bagman and Emmeline Jones snogging like teenagers, past countless famous couples who would no doubt be in the papers the next morning, and strolled back into the mansion.

There were a few people still inside. Many of them were kissing. He smiled, nodded at those who weren't, wishing them a happy new year. He could have done with a bit of happy, he reckoned.

So he sought happy out at the drinks table, for where else could it be hiding? Unsurprisingly, he was not the only one who seemed to have had this idea. He nodded to the other poor sods, and poured himself a glass of the 'just whiskey'. A man appeared right next to him, far too close, despite all the room around the table. James tried to ignore him, but the man was humming to himself and staring at the ceiling, not at all seeming to want to pour himself a drink. James looked at him. He wore a wide-brimmed hat, had a long beard, glasses, and a large, round nose.

"Hello, James," he said, and James' eyes widened.

"Caradoc? Caradoc Dearborn, is that you?"

"Quietly, boy, are you crazy?" He turned, peered side to side from under his hat, and looked back at James. "But yes, it is I. Caradoc Dearborn, in disg-"

"You look dumb."

Caradoc glared. "I am in disguise!"

"You should have chosen a less dumb-looking disguise."

"It is not dumb."

"That is the fakest face I've seen in my life."

"Stop insulting my disguise," he hissed. He looked side to side again. "I'm here undercover."

"Right."

"You might be thinking to yourself, why is Caradoc always undercover?"

"I'm not."

"Undercover as an auror, undercover as a Death Eater, you must be wondering how I manage to do it all!"

"I'm really not."

"And it's tough, James," said Caradoc, nodding somberly. "It's a really taxing lifestyle. But do you know what my goal is when I get out of bed each morning?"

"Caradoc, why are you here?"

"To save lives!" Caradoc grinned widely. "That was clever, you see, because it works on both fronts." James said nothing. "It answers your question, and it answered my one." Still nothing. Caradoc sighed. "Alright, fine. Morgan Bulstrode, Eugenia Jenkins' number two and the temporary Minister of Magic, is here at this party. I'm sure it has been relayed to you that he is a Death Eater affiliate. He's formed an alliance with the Head of the Auror Department, who is technically my boss, Emmett Fawley. Now pay attention, James, because this is where it gets complicated."

"I'm pretty sure I know all this already."

"Pay attention, please. A man called Blithe has been feeding Ministry information to the Death Eaters for months, and we suspect he is none other than Emmett Fawley."

"Yeah, I think Frank told me."

"Please, James, I'll answer your questions at the end. Now, Fawley and Bulstrode were both running for Minister, to be the real Minister, not just acting Minister. But when Sawyer Hughes, a great man who-"

"I met him. On Christmas Eve, last week."

"Excuse me, James. A great man who every sane person respects, started running for Minister, Bulstrode and Fawley were both instantly outvoted, and so they pooled their votes together, further validating the theory that Fawley is not on our side. Now it is only a matter of time before Sawyer does beat them out and takes the top job, but we want to quicken that process as much as possible. Opportunities to corner Bulstrode are rare, and we might not get a better opportunity to get evidence on Fawley. So I have taken it upon myself to go to… unofficial lengths for a confession. All I need is an accomplice. Are you in?"

James fixed him with a look. "You could have literally asked me that from the start, and I would have said yes. This entire conversation has been unnecessary."

Caradoc beamed. "Look at that. We have some team banter already." He turned and started walking, and James followed a step behind.

"How do you even know Bulstrode's here?"

"I've been following him since Christmas."

James made a face. "You've spent your break stalking a politician?"

"Justice never takes breaks, my dear boy."

"And why do you have to wear a disguise?"

"Because I'm about to threaten the acting Minister of Magic with violence, and that's not good for your health."

James nodded. "Right." They passed through a number of corridors. Caradoc walked swiftly and purposefully, his wand out, and James pulled his own wand from his pocket. "So what do you need me to do?"

Caradoc stopped by an open door suddenly, and James bumped into him. Caradoc peered in, James followed suit. It was a small, dark room, and inside was Morgan Bulstrode, pacing back and forth. "Guard the door," Caradoc whispered.

He rushed into the room, slammed the door shut behind him, and James heard yelling and crashing furniture and more yelling. James hastily put his back to the door and looked left and right. The corridor was empty. He held his wand aloft and listened.

"Who are you?" cried a voice, strained and alarmed.

"I'll ask the questions," roared Caradoc. There was another crash, and the voice cried out again.

"Someone will hear this," the voice yelled in pain. "Someone will come in here and stop you, and I promise that you will never see the light of day again!"

"Nonsense," said Caradoc. "I have my best fighter outside, guarding that door. I assure you, we will not be interrupted.

James' throat dried. From around the corner, he heard footsteps. He clutched his wand tighter, held it up. Licked his lips.

Lily turned the corner. James groaned internally, and she smiled unsurely as she approached. "There you are, Potter. Have you seen Marlene?"

James smiled back tightly. "She and Sirius took off not too long ago."

"Together?"

"Yep."

She reached him and winced. "No. Oh, she's going to regret that in the morning."

Despite himself, James scowled. "Why? What's there to regret?"

"I can't tell you, alright? I can just guarantee that she's really going to regret it."

James made to respond derisively, but a thud came from inside the room and he straightened. "Look, now's not a good time for this, Evans," he said, trying to keep his voice from sounding suspicious. Even after all these years, he still didn't know how to do that.

There was another cry of pain from inside.

"Answer me," Caradoc yelled.

Lily stared. "Potter, who's in there?"

He hesitated. "No one."

"Please," cried the voice. "Stop!"

The sound of a punch, hard. "Shut up, filth!"

Lily made to grab the door handle and James caught her arm. "Evans…"

"Let go of me, Potter."

"I can't let you in."

"I said let go."

"Promise me you won't try to open the door again."

"I promise to put you in St Mungo's if you don't let go right now."

"Evans, come on-"

"I'm dead serious, Potter, I will put you in the hospital."

He quickly let go. "Okay. Just don't open th-"

She opened the door. Saw Morgan Bulstrode bent backwards over a table, Caradoc holding him by the collar with his wand to his throat. The two men paused and looked over.

"Greetings," said Caradoc cordially.

"Help me," said Bulstrode frantically, trying to push Caradoc's wand from his neck. "I am your Minister of Magic-"

"Temporarily," said Caradoc, keeping his wand at his throat.

"-please, this man is attacking me! Help!"

Lily looked at James, speechless.

"There is a fantastic explanation for all this," James told her.

"I'm not explaining it all again," said Caradoc. "You didn't appreciate it the first time."

Upon hearing his voice, Lily peered at him. "Caradoc?"

Caradoc shook his head. "Nope."

Bulstrode peered at him now, too. "The auror? Caradoc Dearborn?"

"I am Caradoc Periwinkle. I am asked that all the time, though. It is a common mix-up."

Lily looked at James with a raised eyebrow. James nodded.

"Oh," said Bulstrode. "My mistake."

"Not to worry," said Caradoc.

They were all quiet for a few seconds.

"Can one of you please close the door?" Caradoc asked the teens politely. James closed it behind them, and the room went got darker. "Thank you."

Caradoc lifted Bulstrode and slammed him back onto the table. "Who is Blithe?" he yelled.

"Who the bleeding hell is Blithe?" Bulstrode spluttered.

Caradoc shook him. "Don't get smart with me, Bulstrode!"

"No," said Bulstrode, "I mean I really don't know who this Blithe is! I've never heard that name before, I swear!"

Caradoc paused. "Oh." He stepped back. "Lumos." His wand lit up the room, and James could see them all clearly now. Bulstrode got off the table slowly, straightening his collar. "Get back on that table," said Caradoc quietly.

Bulstrode immediately got back down, trying to get into the same uncomfortable position. "Like this?"

"It was more at an angle."

The Minister shifted. "This?"

"Perfect. Stay like that."

Lily cleared her throat.

Caradoc looked at the teens. "This simplifies things, I suppose. I just have a few more questions for him. Is anyone watching the door?"

"No."

Caradoc scratched his head. "Alright. I'll make this quick then, I suppose." He pointed his wand at Bulstrode again, the shadows in the room shifting as the only light source was moved. "How involved is Emmett Fawley with the Death Eaters?"

Busltrode's eyes bugged. "Emmett Fawley is a Death Eater?"

"You didn't know? Then why did you ally yourself with him? Why did the two of you pool your votes together?"

"He approached me," said Bulstrode. "I was surprised, too. As far as I knew, he hated me, and all those I associate with."

"Death Eaters."

"Traditionalists."

Caradoc snorted. "Keep your facade up, if you really must. But why did he approach you?"

"Fawley wants to be Minister, and even though he loathes me and my associates, or at least I thought he did before today, he will go to any lengths to get the job. Even if it means collaborating with me. Our relationship is anything but friendly, I assure you, although if I had known that he is one of us-"

"One of you?"

Bulstrode froze.

"Morgan," said Caradoc, smiling widely, "you are the Minister of Magic."

"Temporary Minister of Magic," Bulstrode whispered.

"Did you just confess to being a Death Eater?"

"No."

"I think I have sufficient grounds to arrest you, here and now."

"You aren't an auror," said Bulstrode, licking his lips.

Caradoc's grin widened. "You are going to tell me everything, and I do mean everything, or you can kiss your political career goodbye."

"You have no proof of anything. I said something silly, so what? I can't be convicted for that!"

"Perhaps not," said Caradoc. "But we can try. And when we do try, who will be temporary Minister in your place? If Dumbledore calls for a vote while you are being convicted, who will be able to stop Sawyer Hughes from finally becoming our real Minister? Fawley?"

Bulstrode suddenly broke into a smile, the first smile James had seen from him that night. "That is your plan? To keep me detained? Well, why didn't you just say so? I would have told you not to waste your time. Our meeting is at an end, I'm afraid."

Caradoc pushed the glowing tip of his wand into the flesh of Bulstrode's throat, and the room darkened while Bulstrode's throat glowed from within. "If you try to apparate from here, you will regret it. Trust me."

"You misunderstand me, Mr Periwinkle. I'm not going to apparate. I am the Minister of Magic - apparition is below me."

"Temporary Minister of Magic," said Caradoc, narrowing his eyes.

Bulstrode's smile grew. "I came to this party simply to show face, appear in a few pictures for the morning's paper. I am the people's Minister, after all. These things are important. But I am also a very busy man, and I have a very important meeting to attend quite soon. You will not be able to stop me, Mr Periwinkle."

Caradoc turned to Lily and James, as serious as James had seen him. "He has a portkey somewhere in this room. Find it."

James blinked and nodded, and he and Lily set about immediately, scanning the ground, the walls, for anything that could be a portkey. Caradoc lifted his wand from Bulstrode's neck, leaving an angry mark on the skin, and held it up, illuminating the room once more.

"It could be anything," said Lily, throwing aside a quill. "How will we even know when we find it?"

"There will be a special quality to it," said Caradoc, scanning the ground himself. "It will be close by to Bulstrode, too. Within easy reach."

Bulstrode was chuckling. "Time has run out for you, I'm afraid. I'm about to leave."

Lily looked up at him. "Caradoc," she said, "if the portkey is small, small enough to fit in his pocket, let's say, would he still have to touch it? Or would that be enough for him to be transported away?"

Caradoc looked at her for a few moments, his brow furrowed, and then he gazed at Bulstrode, who had stopped chuckling. "Grab him," he said.

The three lunged towards Bulstrode, the teens grabbing his arms while Caradoc grabbed him by the collar again, and Bulstrode struggled to break free. "Get off me! Get- off-"

"Will just holding him do the trick?" James asked hurriedly. "We're not touching the portkey."

"It should be enough," said Caradoc, tightening his hold on Bulstrode's collar enough to make the man gag.

And it was.

Suddenly, James felt a pull at his navel, and he felt his insides yanked as though caught by a fishing rod, and he shut his eyes tight, feeling his body flying through space, and his feet hit the ground hard and there was noise all around him and the yanking stopped, though his stomach still ached.

He opened his eyes. The four of them were in the middle of a city, with flashing lights pushing the darkness of the night off the streets, keeping it at bay to the twinkling stars above. Loud music played wherever James turned his head, and raucous, olive-skinned people were all around them. The writing on every shop and sign in the crowded city square were in a language James couldn't understand. Spanish?

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Portugal," said Bulstrode miserably. "I've gone and brought you with me to Portugal."

"It's your own fault," said Caradoc, looking around at their surroundings with interest. "If you had just shut up, we wouldn't even know about your portkey."

Bulstrode hung his head.

Caradoc's gaze settled on a spot further on and he set off, dragging Bulstrode along behind him. James and Lily followed. They reached one of the many bars lining the area, packed full of merry drinkers singing and prattling away to each other. One of the tables outside was empty, and Caradoc pushed Bulstrode down into a seat. He sat on the other side, and James and Lily joined him.

"So, Morgan, the way I see it you have very little choice now. You will give us all the information we need, sell out all your little Death Eater friends, or I make you an appointment with some Dementors and see where that gets us. Your political career will be the last of your concerns. What will it be?"

"I'll tell you everything," Bulstrode said immediately. "Whatever you want to know. I can even be a spy for you, among the Death Eaters. Because I am a Death Eater, you're right. Let's get out of here first, though."

Caradoc waved a hand. "We don't need a spy, believe me. And it's not as fun as it sounds.. No, we have plenty of information already. Something tells me, though, that you know some things that even I don't. Especially considering how trusted you are in these circles."

"I'll brief you on everything, I swear," Bulstrode said. "But we need to go right now. I'm telling you, if I'm going to help you guys then I can't be here."

"Too late, I'm afraid," came a deep and smooth voice from behind Bulstrode. A man approached. He had dark skin, and wore aviator sunglasses and a velvet tuxedo. Caradoc stiffened beside James. Bulstrode's face slackened, and he looked down at the table with the eyes of a dead man. The newcomer placed his hands on Bulstrode's shoulders and surveyed Caradoc and the teens. "My employer will be very interested to hear about this, you see. So we must be leaving."

"You are not leaving here with that man," Caradoc said quietly.

A frown. "I'm sorry, have we met before? Your voice is familiar."

Caradoc said nothing.

"I'm assuming I've tried to kill you at some point. When was that, I wonder? Was it recent?"

Caradoc still said nothing.

"It must have been recent. You seem worried, my friend. Worried that I'll recognize you under that disguise? Because it clearly is a disguise."

James took his wand from his pocket, rested its tip on the table casually but obviously. "We won't let you take Bulstrode."

The man surveyed him, amused. "You're going to stop me, are you? Look around, boy. Are you prepared to turn this street into a battlefield? Prepared to break the Statute of Secrecy in front of all these people, expose magic to the Muggles once and for all? I am. I'm more than happy to change the world forever, here and now. Are you?"

"You'd do all that just to take one person?" asked Lily, looking at the man disbelievingly.

"Of course," the man said. "This is the Minister of Magic, after all."

"Temporary Minister of Magic," Bulstrode mumbled.

James looked hard at the man, then past him, at the Muggles all around them, counting them all, calculating how quietly he could take the man out. He lifted his wand.

"No," said Caradoc gruffly, staying James' hand. "We can't."

The dark-skinned man looked at Caradoc with intense curiosity. "This is going to frustrate me later, you know. I expect I'll realize who you are right when you're no longer in front of me." He sighed. "Regardless, I'll take my leave now. I do so despise idle chatter."

With a crack, he vanished into thin air, taking Bulstrode with him. The now empty chair rattled on the floor a little before settling. None of the Muggles seemed to notice the two men disappearing.

"Who was that?" James asked.

"Taureau Barkley," said Caradoc grimly, getting to his feet.

"And who is he?"

"Trouble. Always trouble." Caradoc let out a breath, and looked at Lily and James. "I'm going to contact Sawyer, try and see if he can authorize a portkey for us to get out of here. You two stay right there, I won't be long." He walked off, and was quickly lost to the crowd.

Lily was looking at James. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she bit her lip. "I was wrong," she said abruptly.

"Um…"

"About everything I said earlier," she explained. "They were all thoughts that have occurred to me over the last few days, but now... now I reckon I've figured it out. Things get ruined. I see that, and I reckon it's a stupid thing to try and run away from. When there's a thing that's really good, yes, it would be awful to ruin, but it would be even more awful, no, painful, to not indulge it."

James had to wonder why she'd insisted on speaking in riddles the entire night. He stared into her eyes, green and mesmerizing. "And what is this good thing that you want to indulge, Evans?"

Hey eyes twinkled, and her smile, confident yet shy in the most beautiful way, made James feel like he'd been seized by a portkey again. "Us," she said. "I want to indulge us, Potter."

And there it was. After all this time, this whole day, these last few months, these last few years, her words were the sweetest, most fulfilling sound to ever reach James' ears.

He was grinning, and he couldn't control it. His face was seized by the grin. He opened his mouth, but faltered when all the Muggles in the bar, in the street and all around them, suddenly grew excited, their chattering growing louder and uncontainable.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Lily was looking behind him. He turned, saw a clock hanging from a street lamp. "I think," she said, "it's not quite yet midnight here."

James' eyes widened. "Time Zones."

She nodded, biting her lip.

"Dez," everyone in the city seemed to yell as one.

James locked eyes with her, and he couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to. They'd been given another chance.

"Nove!"

His throat was dry, his lips were dry. His hands clenched on his knees.

"Oito!"

She blew a strand of hair off her forehead.

"Sete!"

"Seis!"

"Cinco!"

His knowledge of Spanish was poor, and how that translated to Portuguese was even poorer. Be that as it may, "Quatro!" was clearly four. He saw the recognition in Lily's eyes, too. Her inescapably beautiful green eyes.

"Três!"

She started leaning in, her face growing closer, and James matched the movement, engraving every detail of her face at this proximity into his memory. Every freckle and dimple, every crease by her eyes as she smiled at him.

"Dois!"

He could feel her breath on his face, could make out the individual flecks of green in the iris of her eyes. Their noses almost touched.

"Um!"

They both tilted their heads, leaned that last bit further in, their lips a hair's breadth apart, one twitch away, and then they paused for the final, exuberant beat.

"Feliz Ano Novo!"

Their lips crashed together, and it was like a man had been pushing the plates of the Earth's crust apart all this time before finally giving into the pressure, letting nature take its course, for their kiss felt violent, seismic, and inevitable. They pushed at each other, and pushed and pushed, just like they always had, incessantly and unrelentingly, and when they reached the breaking point their lips opened and their tongues clashed, swiping and tumbling. Lily's hand was in James' hair, and he took her by the waist and pulled her into him, their chests pressed against each other. She moaned against his lips, a release, and James pulled her even tighter against him, his tongue probing further. She tasted of the whisky they'd drank, and her hair, so red and captivating, smelled of the shampoo of hers he had once paid Marlene thirty Galleons to steal for him, on a particularly pathetic day in Fourth Year. The scent of pine and the sweetness of vanilla. He still hadn't told her about that.

He cradled the back of her head with one hand, relishing the chance to finally run his fingers through those red locks, committing every sensation, of her lips and her tongue, her nose and cheek and forehead pressed against his own, her hair in his hands and her breath in his mouth, to memory.

He knew her every movement, because it mirrored his own. He supposed it always had. So when it came to an end, the two broke the kiss at the same time, leaned back a fraction and looked into each other's eyes with the same intensity and passion, and though James was no stranger to being hopelessly in love with her, he had never before felt it more strongly than at that moment.

They both let out breaths, and then shaky laughs, and Lily leaned back further. "Happy new year, Potter."

James smiled, taking in her frazzled hair, dilated pupils, and red face. Oh, how he loved her. "Happy new year, Evans."

She seemed surprised that she was almost on his lap, and moved back further, sitting properly on her own seat. She looked at him and her eyes twinkled again, her smile radiant. "Definitely worth indulging, right?"

He had to stop himself from lunging back in to indulge again, and simply smiled back. "Definitely."

"A second new year," said Caradoc in bemusement as he emerged from the crowd with a brown leather shoe in hand. "Don't see that too often. Are you two ready to go?"

They shared one last look before turning back to Caradoc. "Yeah," said Lily. "I think we are."