James eyed Sirius as they pushed their trollies through King's Cross Station, their Christmas break having finally come to an end. His friend did not look happy.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

Even without their large trunks and caged owls, the two boys would have drawn plenty of prolonged stares. Eyes lingered and eyebrows quirked wherever they would go. There was a magnetism to the way they walked, a flair in their steps, and an unmistakable, irreplaceable importance in their eyes. Or at least a healthy sense of self-importance.

"Well, I'm going to talk about it, so you can feel free to just listen."

"I'd really rather you didn't."

"Marlene is engaged."

Sirius sighed and looked up at the high ceiling, as though searching for a reprieve from the messy haired boy.

"And she's engaged to a bloke called William." James looked closer at him. "William, Padfoot."

"I am aware of his name."

"William Ärger… that has to hurt."

Sirius grunted.

"I hadn't even heard of a Pureblood name like Ärger before. There must be a few Muggles in there somewhere. Good for them."

Sirius said nothing.

"But you're a Black," James added, looking thoughtful. "It doesn't get much purer than that."

Clenched jaw.

"And you lost to an Ärger."

Sirius whirled on him. "Prongs, are you trying to make me hex you right now? What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to make you talk about it," James said, crossing his arms. "I know how you get when you stew on things."

"Yeah? How do I get?"

"Dumb."

"That right?"

"Last time you were like this, Padfoot, you told Snape how to get into the Whomping Willow." Sirius closed his mouth. "Almost killed him, potentially getting Moony locked up."

Sirius' face had colored a little. "I may get a little dumb, I suppose."

"Marlene is engaged, Sirius. And you like her, don't you?"

Sirius nodded with a jerk of his head.

"Then what are you going to do about it?"

The grey eyed boy held his gaze for a few seconds, then looked away to the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. "I'll just have to move on, won't I?"

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"Mr Dearborn," said Propositus Crinkle, a thin man with a bow tie and a polite smile, "you have an urgent meeting to attend. If you would please follow me."

Caradoc's brow furrowed. Propositus Crinkle was an administrator of some sort. He was mainly seen doing jobs befitting an assistant for various ministers around the place, and Caradoc had had little to do with him in the past. Now, having the man greet Caradoc first thing in the morning, the moment he stepped into the Auror Department for work, was at least a little surprising.

"What kind of urgent meeting?" Caradoc asked, matching Crinkle's brisk pace as they marched into a thin corridor adjoining the entrance to the Auror Department. "Do you know?"

The same polite smile. "I do not."

Caradoc frowned. "Okay."

Two men were ahead of them, standing still and expressionless. As Caradoc and Crinkle approached, the two turned and smiled brightly.

"Caradoc, Propositus, fancy seeing you here," greeted the first man, brown haired and blue eyed.

"Hello, John," said Crinkle. He nodded to the other man, with gleaming white teeth and waxy blonde hair. "How are you, Jack?"

"I am well," said Jack, flashing his bright teeth with a smile. "John, are you well?"

"I am well," said John.

"We are well, Propositus. Say, what brings you here?"

Crinkle inclined his head towards Caradoc. "Escorting Mr Dearborn to a meeting."

"Is it an urgent one?" asked John.

"It is."

"Then we'll come with you."

Crinkle nodded his head, showcasing his polite smile once again. Caradoc eyed the two as they matched his and Crinkle's pace down the corridor, but he said nothing.

"So, how are you, Caradoc?" asked Jack, after a few seconds of silence but for the sound of their footsteps.

"I don't recall ever meeting you before," said Caradoc, ignoring the question. "Either of you. How do you know my name?"

"Everyone knows your name," said John cheerily, putting a hand on Caradoc's shoulder. Caradoc shrugged it off, and John withdrew his hand so easily he might never have extended it in the first place. "You're Caradoc Dearborn. Joined the Auror Department five years ago, at the age of seventeen. Made quite a name for yourself very quickly, put away a lot of dangerous people. Then of course, as if your reputation could get any more awesome, you teamed up with Ferox Goodman, and the two of you were an instant force to be reckoned with. The pride of the Auror Department, some say."

"Indeed they were," said Jack. "But then Goodman up and disappeared a few months ago, without a trace. Quite mysterious. I don't suppose you know what happened to him, do you, Caradoc?"

"Stay down, Ferox," Caradoc called desperately.

Blood gushed. Bone protuded.

A whispering, wheezing breath.

With a flash of green light, the noise stopped.

"No," said Caradoc, his face impassive. "I haven't a clue."

All three men were looking at Caradoc. Their eyes were alert. Caradoc stared back, and a corner approached, and when they took it the three men looked away finally. They each gave easy smiles, and it was like they had left all the tension behind them.

"I hadn't thought so," said Jack lightly. "No one seems to know."

"Maybe he went on holiday," Caradoc offered.

Jack's smile became tight. "Maybe."

"We're here," said Crinkle.

Ahead of them was a metal door. Two Aurors stood guard in front of it, Acustus Proudfoot and Hestia Jones. The two had only joined the department recently, and Caradoc had spent two days showing them the ropes a few weeks back. They stood stiff, their backs straight - either a great work ethic, or the tell-tale signs of nervousness.

Caradoc nodded to them. "Alright?"

Hestia's eyes flickered to him, to Crinkle, and then back to staring resolutely at the wall in front of her. There was a bead of sweat on her forehead.

Neither of the young Aurors responded to him.

"They have strict instructions not to engage," explained Crinkle, waving a hand. The two moved out of the way, and Crinkle beckoned Caradoc towards the door.

"Engage," Caradoc repeated slowly, not moving.

"Talk to you," said Crinkle. "To anyone, I mean. Strict orders."

Jack had taken a few extra steps. John stood in the direction they had just come, his shoulders wide, his gaze wandering around the corridor innocuously, and Jack mirrored his stance on Caradoc's other side. In front of Caradoc stood the two young Aurors, on either side of the door. Beside him was Crinkle, who beckoned once more towards the door. "Your urgent meeting awaits, Mr Dearborn."

Caradoc nodded. "Thank you."

Around him, each of the figures' hands drifted that little bit closer towards their wands. Caradoc eyed them all, stone-faced. He had always found the calm before the storm to be-

"Caradoc Dearborn!"

A figure approached. All heads turned, watched a small man, red in the face, sprint towards them looking harried.

"Who are you?" snapped Crinkle. "What are you doing here? The entrance is supposed to be sealed! Leave at once."

Caradoc frowned. The entrance was sealed?

"I have an urgent message," huffed the small man, bending over and sucking in deep lungfuls of air, "for Caradoc Dearborn." He held out a torn piece of parchment. "From Alastor Moody."

With a raised brow, Caradoc took the parchment. Read it.

WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, BOY? GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE

Caradoc looked up from the parchment. All faces stared at him. The small man was still panting. The others seemed alert, their eyes probing Caradoc for any signs of imminent movement. Crinkle's smile had run dry of politeness and now looked incredibly forced.

Crinkle opened his mouth-

"Stupefy," Caradoc yelled, and Crinkle flew into the wall. As his head smacked against the plaster, wands were raised in a split-second all around Caradoc, and lights and yells filled the air.

Stunning spell missed, binding spell dodged. All he could see were flashing lights and weaving bodies, and a stinging hex hit him on the forearm. Caradoc almost dropped his wand before deflecting a body-bind curse and he shot three jinxes back, which were promptly dodged. Blue light and white light and Caradoc blocked and whirled.

A purple light and a yellow light and Caradoc flicked his wand, and the walls ruptured and plaster rained upon them all and, as one, after a brief lull as the figures scattered, their wands all raised again. Smiling, Caradoc timed it perfectly.

"Protego!"

The spells of all his surrounding opponents bounced back at them, and they were hit by their own jets of light. They all dropped to the floor. There was suddenly quiet.

"Oldest trick in the book," said Caradoc with a smirk, pocketing his wand.

The small man was on the floor too, having long since been taken out of the fight that he hadn't even seemed to know was coming. Dust settled.

Caradoc leaned down, picked up the limp form of Acustus Proudfoot by the collar. "Enervate."

Proudfoot jerked awake, focused his gaze on Caradoc, and immediately started thrashing around, trying to break free.

"Stop struggling."

"Get off me, Death Eater!"

Caradoc frowned. "Death Eater?"

"We all know what you are," spat Proudfoot. "Evil scum."

"Mate, I don't know what you're on about. I'm no Death Eater."

Proudfoot laughed. "You're lying. I saw the evidence with my own eyes in a pensieve. Someone's memory of you, at the battle of Síla. You were wearing your fancy Death Eater robes."

Caradoc stared at him. "Oh."

"Yeah," sneered Proudfoot. "Oh."

"Oh, no," said Caradoc quietly.

"Yeah," said Proudfoot, less enthusiastically. "Oh, no."

"Look, mate. I'm on your side. I can't explain why-"

"Of course you can't."

"-but I'm not your enemy. And I don't want to hurt any of you."

Proudfoot looked around. "Well, you've done a great job so far."

"Look," said Caradoc through gritted teeth, "I don't- Oh, why am I bothering?"

He stunned Proudfoot again, and dropped him to the floor. He could hear footsteps from down the corridor. With a long, pained sigh, Caradoc pocketed his wand and set off down the corridor at a jog.

"If this is what I get for being on the good side," he muttered, "I almost wish I was a real Death Eater."

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There was an awkward air about the compartment, and James reckoned they could all feel it. Frank and Alice were cuddled together in a corner. She was somewhat on the Head Boy's lap. Peter sat between Marlene and Sirius, blissfully unaware of recent developments. James and Lily sat beside each other. Their shoulders touched. Remus sat closest to the door, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"So, the break was fun," James tried loudly.

Mumbled responses.

"Yeah," said Lily, matching his tone. "Heaps of fun."

Alice and Frank weren't paying attention. Marlene and Sirius were looking anywhere but at each other.

"It was alright," said Peter reasonably. "It's not like anything significant happened."

The rest of them stared at the ground.

"Remus," said Lily with a smile that was too bright, "how was your break?"

"Good," the boy said, eyeing the rest of the group with suspicion. "After midnight at the New Year's party, I couldn't find any of you." They all looked at the ground with renewed interest. "Eventually I just went home."

"I had stuff to do," James mumbled. "Chores and stuff."

"Me too," chimed in Lily.

"I was wasting my time," said Sirius matter-of-factly.

Marlene looked at him with a dropped jaw.

"Merlin," James said under his breath.

"Is that right, Black? Wasting your time?"

"Yes."

"Doing what, exactly?"

"You don't have to tell us," said Lily hurriedly.

"No," said Marlene. "I want to hear it."

"I don't think he should tell us," said James.

"Shut it, both of you. Tell us, Black."

"Why do you want to know so badly?" asked Peter, frowning.

"I'm interested in how he wastes his time," said Marlene with a clearly false smile.

"Everyone does it differently, right?" said Alice, joining the conversation. "I like to read a book."

"I play Quidditch," said Frank.

"Quidditch is never a waste of time," James snapped.

Sirius nodded. "I can confirm that I was not playing Quidditch."

"Great," said Marlene, glaring daggers at Sirius. "At least you know something."

"I regret speaking at all now," said Remus.

The door slid open.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?"

The teens all looked at the trolley lady, her ever-present, kindly smile on her lined face.

"I'll take a Chocolate Frog, thanks," said Remus quietly, passing her some Sickles.

"Anything else?"

"A Pumpkin Pasty for me, thanks," Lily mumbled.

"Of course, dear."

The rest of the train ride passed only with short, stunted passes at conversation.

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"I guess this was bound to happen," said Lily. She turned back to look at James, who walked a few paces behind her down the corridor.

"It was inevitable, looking back," James agreed.

"Do you think Black will try to win Marlene over?"

He shrugged. "Who knows?"

"It's not like he'll be able to, either way. Do you reckon he'll try anything dumb?"

James shrugged again. "Who knows?"

"Clearly not you," she chided. She turned back around to face forward. "What a mess. An inevitable mess. This is what happens when a group of friends starts becoming romantically involved with one another. Complete chaos."

He caught up with her and flashed her a smirk. "Are we romantically involved, Evans?"

She hid her smile well, and quickened her pace. "Who knows?"

He laughed from behind her. "And so the chase continues."

"And so it does. Now, how far are these kitchens? You better not have been lying when you said you know where they are, Potter."

"Evans, would I ever lie just to spend time with you?"

"Indubitably."

"Indubitably indeed. I'd do just about anything to spend time with you."

She bit her lip and quickened her pace further. She would not let him see her blush.

"But I really do know where the kitchens are. We're just going the wrong way, that's all."

"What?"

She turned around, just in time to see him disappear down an adjoining corridor.

"I did say I'd do anything to spend time with you, didn't I?" came his teasing voice from down the corridor. "Come along now, Evans. I'd hate for you to get lost."

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Sirius tapped the map as James closed the dormitory door behind him. "How's Evans?"

"Same as always. Red haired. Rabid. You know."

Sirius smiled as James sat on his bed and kicked off his shoes. "I bet. Your dots on the map got rather close throughout the night."

"That's… unsettling. Oi, Moony!"

"Yeah?" called Remus from the bathroom.

"Why didn't you ever raise the issue of privacy when we were making the map?"

"I did. I believe your response at the time was, Oh, shut it, Moony."

Sirius sniggered.

"Well," said James, "I think we should take another look at the matter."

"Overruled," said Sirius immediately.

"Overruled," came Remus' voice. "You need to deal with the consequences of your actions."

James looked at Peter, who was getting into his pyjamas.

"Sorry, James," said Peter. "It's already two to one."

"You can make it two to two!"

Peter smiled apologetically. "Sorry, James."

James threw his head back. "You always side with the majority when we take a vote, Wormtail."

"It's the smart thing to do," Peter reasoned.

"Well, not for me. I love uphill battles," said James. "Makes things fun."

"That explains why you're still stuck on Evans," Sirius chuckled. "It's an uphill battle for you that will never end."

James smiled widely. "Is that right?"

"Well, yeah. I reckon so."

"Because," James continued, "you've just reminded me that there are a few things I need to catch you boys up on…"

They all settled into their beds as James brought them up to speed on the events of the last few days.

"You and Evans kissed?" Sirius exclaimed. "You kissed and you didn't tell me?"

"When should I have told you? When you'd just learned Marlene is engaged, and looked ready to punch someone? Or when you were moping about it yesterday? Or when you were moping about it this morning?"

James couldn't see Sirius from his bed and in the dark, but he knew he'd be glaring.

"I was not moping."

"More importantly," said Remus from his bed, "you kissed Lily, James?"

"What was Sirius moping about?" Peter whispered.

"Yeah," said James.

"I was not moping."

"We kissed. Then we went back to the party with Caradoc, and Lily left shortly after. I stopped by her place the other day for a chat, actually."

"Did you kiss again?"

"No. But things were good. We raided the kitchens just now and had another chat. Things are really good."

The boys were quiet for a few moments.

"Can you believe the position you're in right now?" Remus asked.

"No," said James immediately. "When she left the party, I ran to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror for ten minutes. I didn't think it was real life."

Remus laughed.

"Do you reckon she likes you?" asked Peter.

James wrinkled his nose. "All evidence points that way."

"As far as ways to show someone that you like them go," said Sirius, "kissing them is probably near the top of the list."

James nodded, as if the rest of them could see him. "That's what I reckon, too."

They were quiet for another few moments.

"So," said Peter eventually, "what next?"

"What next?" James repeated. "Mate… I have no bloody clue."

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Breakfast was less awkward. Perhaps, thought Lily, all the group needed was time to acclimatize to the fact that almost all of them were seeing one another in some shape or form.

Was she seeing James in some shape or form?

"I suppose," Lily said.

"You suppose what?" asked Marlene. "Pass me the butter, will you?"

"Just talking to myself," said Lily, handing her the butter dish. "So, you talked to Black yet?"

Marlene raised an eyebrow. "In the twelve hours since we got off the train? No."

"Will you?"

"In the one and a half years that we have left at Hogwarts?" she asked. "No."

"Come on," said Lily. She glanced two seats down, past Frank and Remus, to where Sirius was sat, deep in conversation with James. "He looks to be in a better mood."

"He's frowning."

"Which is already an improvement on yesterday."

"Lily."

"Baby steps, Mar. Come on."

"You're talking as though I want him to be in a better mood. I don't care, honestly."

"I don't believe that."

"That's nice."

"I think you like him."

Marlene looked at her sharply. "So what if I do? What do you want me to do, really? I'm engaged, Lily." She looked back down at her plate and stabbed a kipper with deadly force.

Lily looked at her friend sympathetically.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Sympathetically."

"I'm not."

Marlene gave an aggravated sigh.

"You like him," Lily said again after a few more seconds. "Don't you?"

"Lily, if you don't stop talking, I'm going to stab you with my fork."

Lily pressed her lips together tight.

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With a furtive glance cast behind him every few steps, Caradoc tread slowly down the narrow Irish street. Each footfall landed him several inches deep in snow. In the mere minutes since he'd been in the neighbourhood, the snow had already covered him from head to toe. He was soaked.

That was to make no mention of his injuries. A gash on his bicep, some cuts to his face, what felt like a dislocated knee, and some bruised ribs had been Caradoc's only companions over the night, and though he wasn't one to complain when he felt under the weather, he certainly had to admit that he had seen better days.

Another furtive glance behind him. Still no one. But they would come. He had learned these past twenty-four hours that they always came. It frustrated Caradoc to no end that the Auror Department only seemed to function competently when he was the one they were chasing. It was so typical.

He walked up a floral pathway to the first house on the street, and knocked on the door. When it opened, an elderly lady with glasses that magnified her eyes to the size of tennis balls poked her head out. "Yes? Can I help you?" Her accent was Irish and friendly.

Caradoc managed a smile. "Hello. I'm a weary traveller-"

She took in his appearance and her eyes widened even further. "Weary indeed! Look at you!"

He grimaced. "Yeah."

"Come in, dear, come in. Let's get you some biscuits, how about that?"

"That's very kind of you," he said, stepping inside with relief. "But I only wish to use your fireplace. I can't stay for long."

"Are you sure? I don't mind at all. Ever since my youngest got married it's been awfully quiet around here. I'd love the company!" She closed the door and led the way to her sitting room. The fireplace was already roaring, and Caradoc gradually felt warmth return to the tips of his fingers.

He rubbed his cheeks, getting the feeling back into them. "No, really, I'll have to be going soon. I just need to use the fireplace."

She nodded understandingly. "Oh, if you must, dear. Just until you get yourself warm, is it?"

"Something like that." He approached the fireplace, stood in front of it, and it was like the flames were caressing his face. Heavenly, after his trek through the snow. He hesitated and looked back at her. "Actually, I will take some biscuits. A plateful, please."

She beamed. "Right away."

The moment she left the room, he pulled a small bag from his breast pocket. Inside was a fine green powder. Caradoc opened up the bag, took out a fistful of the powder, and stepped closer to the fireplace.

"Would you like tea as well, dear?" asked the lady, poking her head back in. She looked at the bag of powder in his hands, and once again her eyes expanded like balloons. "What's that you've got there?"

"This?" asked Caradoc, looking down at the bag and his fistful of powder. "This is… drugs."

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Lily deviated between stirring the cauldron and chancing glances over to where he was sat with Sirius. The two were barely paying attention to their work, which was nothing new to Lily.

"It's a disaster waiting to happen," said Alice from beside her. "Giving a bunch of teenagers the means and the permission to brew love potions in class. Who thought that was a good idea? Really, Lily, who?"

"Who knows," said Lily absent-mindedly.

"Every year it happens. Did you know that? Every year, Slughorn will tell his Sixth Years to brew love potions, and they'll all giggle to each other about being able to smell one of their classmates in their potion, and flirt with one another senselessly in front of the class. It fuels the gossip around the school for days whenever it happens."

"Mhm."

"And for what? It serves no purpose other than to stir up our already hyper-active hormones, and that's not even mentioning the fact that every year someone will knick some love potion, or some Felix Felicis, and the whole school will go crazy. And the teachers are always so surprised, wondering how on earth that happened. It's every year, Lily!"

Lily looked at Alice shrewdly. "Do you smell Frank in the potion, Alice?"

The blonde girl lost some of the gusto she spoke with, and there was a red tinge to her cheeks. "It doesn't matter what I smell in it. I simply-"

Lily tuned her friend out, and took a deep whiff of the potion for herself. It didn't matter how basic, overdone, or uninspired Alice made it out to be. She could smell James Potter in the Amortentia.

So what did that mean?

It was a love potion. Lily was perfectly prepared these days to admit to herself that she liked him. But love?

Aside from its various other scents, the particular smell of her home, the fresh, papery smell of a new book, and a specific scent of vanilla, the potion provided Lily with the overpowering, alien scents of broomstick polish, pressed Quidditch robes, and the whiskey she had tasted on James' lips back in Portugal while ringing in the new year.

"Are you listening to me, Lily?"

"No."

Could she love James Potter so soon after she'd started liking him? And how could she be sure of the difference between the two?

"Do you smell Quidditch stuff in that potion?" asked Alice with a cheeky grin.

Lily looked at her sharply.

"You forget," said Alice, her eyes twinkling, "that James was my boyfriend for a little while there. Always smells like Quidditch, that boy."

Lily had forgotten. Her best friend had dated Lily's- James Potter. She certainly didn't want to try processing how this made her feel given recent developments.

"How," said Lily, torn between wanting to change the subject and her desire for an answer, "do you reckon Amortentia qualifies something as 'love-worthy', in order for one to smell it in the potion?"

Alice wrinkled her nose and shrugged. "You're the Potions expert, not me. But I doubt there's a proper answer for that one. Love is relative, isn't it? I've always loved chocolate cake, a lot of my best memories are on my birthday, so chocolate cake is one of the things I smell in the potion. I like pumpkin juice, but I don't smell it in Amortentia."

"Right," said Lily.

"That being said, the potion might also give us a whiff of something we like but might not necessarily love. How is the potion to know? Maybe I just like chocolate cake."

"Hmm."

"It's simultaneously the most complicated, and the most simple thing in the world. As I said, it's all relative."

"You're really not helping me a whole lot."

Alice gave her a knowing look. "Whatever you're smelling in that potion, think about it some more. Getting within close proximity to the source might help."

"Alice…"

"Whatever it is that you smell," Alice said, looking like she was fighting off a grin. "For all I know, it could just be pumpkin juice."

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"Where are you now?" asked Dumbledore.

"Ireland," said Caradoc Dearborn, his face poking up through the embers of the fireplace. "I'm borrowing a Muggle lady's fireplace, and she'll be back any moment now."

McGonagall stepped forward, feeling the urgency. "There is little time, then. We must know who leaked the fact that you're a Death Eater without them being aware that you are a spy."

"I think I know who," said Caradoc. "Taureau Barkley."

"The man we suspect of working under Blithe?" asked Anton Windstrum, stepping forward beside McGonagall. The three Professors bunched together in Dumbledore's study and peered down at Caradoc's flickering features. "Why would he expose you if he's in league with the Death Eaters? As far as he knows, you're on his side."

"I don't think it's accurate to say he's in league with the Death Eaters at all," said Caradoc. "I've come across him a handful of times now. From what I gather, he's a wand for hire. A mercenary. Aside from Blithe's direct orders, I'm assuming he does whatever he pleases."

"So you believe he has reason to work against you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh, I've given him plenty of reasons to work against me. It's simply a matter of whether or not he's figured them out yet."

"We have to know for sure," said Dumbledore. "Whoever this person is, they did this through a vial containing their own memory of you at the battle of Síla, marching with the Death Eaters, alongside the message that you are a Death Eater. They placed this message in the Auror Department the day before yesterday. This means we know where they were, and when they were there. We must uncover their identity, and ascertain if this is a new enemy, or old."

"There's a charm we use to collect foot traffic data," said Caradoc. "There should be a record of all who entered the Auror Department that day, and when they left. There's only one problem."

"Let me guess," said Anton with a grimace. "The records will be in the office of the Department Head."

Caradoc nodded heavily.

"Emmett Fawley," said Dumbledore contemplatively. "This could prove problematic."

"Yeah," said Caradoc, wrinkling his nose in the fireplace. "Fawley is our number one suspect of being Blithe, and we'll have to go through him."

"We can send Fleamont Potter," McGonagall suggested. "As Fawley's predecessor, he held that same office mere months ago. I'm sure he can make some excuse to stop by and pick something up."

"Not without Fawley peering over his shoulder," said Caradoc.

"I agree," said Windstrum. "We'll have to send someone Fawley will overlook. Someone with good reason to be in that office, but who won't raise Fawley's guard."

"Who do you propose?" asked McGonagall.

"Fleamont Potter's son," said Anton, the ghost of a smile on his face. "James."

"No," said McGonagall immediately.

"That's not a bad idea, though," said Caradoc. "I worked with Potter briefly on New Year's eve. He has a good head on his shoulders."

"How briefly?" McGonagall asked, her shoulders heaving with exasperation.

"James is more than capable, Minerva," Dumbledore said quietly.

"He's a teenager, Albus. A student!"

"And all he must do is tell Fawley his father left something in that office, he will rummage about for the records without Fawley being overly cautious, and then leave without raising any suspicion. No danger at all."

McGonagall couldn't believe what she was hearing. "With all due respect, Headmaster, you've never taught James Potter."

"Send him with another student, then," said Caradoc. "A responsible one. He's friends with the Head Boy, is he not?"

"He is," said Windstrum slowly, "but we don't want to arouse suspicion. Sending the Head Boy will make the two conspicuous. James Potter and Frank Longbottom will not go unnoticed traipsing about the Ministry."

"His other friend, then. Black."

"Absolutely not," said McGonagall.

"Ah," spoke up Dumbledore suddenly, his face brightening. "I know exactly who to send James with."

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"Potter, we have to follow instructions," said Lily crossly.

London was busy at this time of day. People walking hither and thither, straightfaced workers, excitable children and their hassled parents formed an endless flow of people bustling from street to street. To Lily, it was a terrible place to try apparating from.

"It's so much faster, Evans. I doubt Dumbledore will care how we get into the Ministry."

"Potter, we are not allowed to apparate-"

"But we both know how to apparate."

"So? Neither of us have our licences. Apparition classes don't even start until next week." She smiled politely at a passing business woman, and turned back to him. "Not to mention the fact that it's impossible to apparate from here without being seen."

"Is that so?"

"Yes!" An alley approached on their right, and Lily saw James eyeing it. She narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

He nodded towards it. "What's that?"

"What's what?"

"That," he said, changing their course towards the alley. "I'm sure I saw…"

Lily sighed as he entered the alley, and she stood on the sidewalk to wait for him to come back. When ten seconds passed, she poked her head in. "Potter?"

There was no response.

Biting her lip, she stepped in and-

A hand grabbed hers, space twisted and the air compressed, squeezed and tugged at her form, and as quickly as it started, it stopped.

"Welcome to the Auror Department, Evans."

A bustling world of robed figures and marble walls, flying paper planes and owls, and magic exploded around her. Beside her, holding her hand, was James Potter. And he looked smug.

Lily snatched her hand from his grasp and smacked him on the chest as hard as she could.

"Don't you ever," another smack, "apparate me," and another, "without my permission," one more, "again, Potter!"

He grinned, unfazed, and Lily pulled her arm back to smack him on the face this time, but he turned on his heel and started walking. Fuming, she ran after him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To Emmett Fawley's office. Dumbledore gave us instructions, afterall, Evans."

Lily fought to control her temper, and after a few seconds of walking beside him she trusted herself to speak. "Splendid."

He looked at her, amused. "That's all you have to say?"

"That's all I have to say that won't get you sent to St Mungo's, Potter."

He smirked, and she wanted to smack him again. The Amortentia reckoned she loved this?

"Can I help you?" asked a bespectacled lady sitting behind a desk.

"We're here to see Mr Fawley," said James. "He's expecting us."

She checked a note on her desk and looked back up. "James and Lily?"

"That's us," said Lily, forcing a smile.

The lady nodded. "Someone will be along to-"

"Don't worry," said James, waving her off. "I know the way."

He set off at a brisk pace into the heart of the department, and Lily smiled awkwardly at the lady before running to catch up to him. She didn't look back to see if the lady would protest. "Do you really know the way?" she asked.

"Yeah. When it was my dad's office and not Fawley's, I would come by to visit all the time. I wonder what he's done with the place… If it's true he's a Death Eater, this will likely be a very different visit from my previous ones. You're up for a fight, right?"

She smiled wryly at him. "You of all people should know, Potter, that I'm always up for a fight."

He smiled back. "Glad to hear it."

They reached what must have been Fawley's office, as James knocked on it and entered without waiting for a response. Inside was a neat little room, with a bookcase, a desk, and a straight-backed wooden chair. All papers were stacked tidily, and the floor was spotless. Emmett Fawley, the man from all the papers, looked up from his desk and raised his eyebrows. He had sharp features. His dark eyes were piercing.

"Mr Potter. Mrs… Evans, I believe?"

Lily nodded.

"You are early. I wasn't expecting you for another-"

"Yeah," said James, ignoring him. "We got let out of class early. Hey, I'm just going to grab what we came for and we'll head off, alright?"

Fawley gestured wide. "Be my guest. You're always welcome here. Your father was one of our department's greatest, after all. What is it of his that you need to collect? Surely he could have come to collect it himself rather than have his son travel from Hogwarts. I'd have loved to chat with him."

"He has a wedding to attend in the Alps," James said disinterestedly, as he rummaged through some files stacked away in the bookcase. "He left some of his own papers here."

"Papers? What kind?"

"Private," said James with a tone of finality.

Lily gaped at him, but Fawley nodded graciously. "Understandable. Where are your visitor's badges, by the way?"

"Somewhere," said James, shrugging.

"You didn't apparate in, did you?"

James didn't respond. He didn't even bother looking up from the papers, and Lily was torn between wanting to punch him again and apologize profusely to Fawley.

Fawley sighed. "Mr Potter, really. There is a process. You need visitor's badges. I should be escorting you from the Ministry right now."

"Found it," said James happily, pulling a sheet of paper from a folder and stuffing the folder back in the bookcase. He folded the paper and tucked it away in his pocket, before smiling at Fawley and taking Lily by the arm. "Always a pleasure, Mr Fawley."

Fawley pursed his lips. "Likewise, Mr P-"

James pulled Lily from the room and closed the door behind them. He turned to grin at her. "Easy as that."

Lily didn't know where to begin. "You- you're-"

"Brilliant?"

"You're insane, Potter. How could you do all that so casually?"

He shrugged. "Equal parts charm, confidence, and luck."

Lily could only shake her head. Whether for better or worse, he never ceased to amaze her.

And he was still holding her arm. She could smell him, and felt herself start to freeze up.

"Now, I know you just told me never to do this again, but-" the world twisted and distorted around them, and suddenly they were back in the alley, "it really is much faster than the visitor's entrance."

Lily didn't care this time. She could smell him, and they stood close, and she could smell him. Broomstick polish, pressed Quidditch robes. The boy really did always smell like Quidditch. The scents tangled with Lily's frustrations and affections, her memories, her recollection of their kiss. It all put Lily in the sky herself, flying hundreds of miles an hour, giddy and electrified. That was the effect he had on her, especially at this proximity.

James removed his hand from her arm, and Lily was back on the ground. Wide-eyed, heart pounding. She wanted to feel that again. "Now-"
Lily grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in, pulled his face to hers, and she kissed him, hard and firm. He chuckled against her lips, and brought a hand up to her cheek. His other hand found the small of her back, holding her, pressing her close.

Lily intensified the kiss. It was less feverish than their kiss on New Year's, more controlled and deliberate. Each movement, every swish of a tongue and press of a hand, elicited a new wave of emotion from Lily. She felt giddy, felt her knees weaken, and as their bodies pressed ever closer against each other her mind grew more and more fuzzy.

Lily pulled back a little, but didn't leave his embrace. Took a breath, let her heartbeat steady. She looked at him, their faces an inch apart. "This time we're both sober."

James smiled. His eyes were full of questions, and he asked what seemed to Lily as the most important one first. "What time are we expected back at the castle?"

Lily bit her lip. "I reckon in time for lunch."

"Well, what do you say we eat lunch here, and then head back?"

"Potter," she said, grinning widely, "that's the smartest thing you've said all day."

James smirked and pulled away. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and together they started walking. "Then clearly, you haven't been paying attention."

The two emerged from the alley and onto the busy street, crowded as always with-

They bumped into a man, who stepped back and looked at them. His skin was dark. He wore a white suit with gold pinstripes, and perched on the bridge of his nose, covering his eyes, were a pair of aviator sunglasses.

"You two," said Taureau Barkley, frowning a little.

James dropped his arm from Lily's waist, and the pair drew their wands in a flash.

"You," snarled James.

Around them, ordinary, every-day people continued going about their business, taking little notice of the wizards and the witch, no clue how close they were to danger.

"I have no quarrel with either of you," said Taureau Barkley, his voice measured. "Put those away."

"Hey, Lily," said James lightly, "want to know whose name I saw on the paper we just took from Emmett Fawley's office?"

The man's head tilted.

"Stop talking," Lily breathed.

"Taureau Barkley," James declared. "We know you're the one who leaked that Caradoc's a Death Eater."

A small smile from the man. "And have you wondered yet why I didn't also leak the fact that he's a spy on the Death Eaters? Because I know that, too."

James faltered.

"You all know I am under the employ of a Death Eater, I presume," Taureau Barkley continued. "It might interest you to know that I have told no one of this discovery."

Lily frowned. "You're lying."

"It is true," he said. "Not a soul. You see, my quarrel with Dearborn is personal. He runs for his life now only because I deem it so. Eventually, I will kill him. But you need not get involved. Put your wands away, and no one will be hurt today."

Lily bit her lip. Slowly, she lowered her wand and looked at James. "Potter, put it away. We can't fight him. Not here."

James didn't move.

"Potter, there are Muggles everywhere. Put it away now."

Looking frustrated, James lowered his wand too.

Taureau Barkley smiled, and nodded to Lily. "You are wise." And with that, he walked past them as though he hadn't been interrupted at all.

Lily let out a slow breath, and looked at James. His eyes were downcast. "Merlin," she said, nudging him. "That was-"

James whirled around and Lily watched in slow motion as he grabbed Taureau Barkley and dragged him into the alley.

"Potter!" She darted into the alley and saw the two wrestling on the ground, their wands discarded already. Lily pulled her own wand back out and levelled it at them. "Stop!"

They froze. The man had his forearm around James' throat. James' face was red, but slowly regained color as the man loosened his grip a little. "Let go of him," Lily said, scooping up the two discarded wands and tucking them into her pocket.

"I think not," said Taureau Barkley. "Not while you have a wand on me."

"This is not a negotiation," she said coldly.

"Oh, I know," he said. "I have all the power in this situation."

Lily frowned. "What?"

In one movement, the man lifted himself to his feet and held James' prone form in front of him. His grip tightened once more around James' neck, and James made a strangled sound. "Lower your wand," the man said quietly, "and roll mine along the ground to me. If I even suspect any ill intentions from you, your friend gets his neck snapped."

Lily's blood chilled. James' face was red again, and panic rose up inside her, seizing her limbs. She lowered her wand, and as soon as she did so the man loosened his grip once more, and James gasped for air.

"My wand, please. Slowly."

Lily pulled the man's wand from her pocket, being sure to keep her movements slow. Her hands were shaking. "Okay," she said, placing the wand on the ground. "Here it is." She gave it a gentle push, and it rolled towards him.

Taureau Barkley stooped and picked it up, but as he did so James swung wildly from his grip.

"Potter, stop!"

The man moved impossibly fast, slamming James against the wall. Lily raised her wand again, but the man raised his own, placed it right at James' neck, and she froze. "Put," he said quietly, "you wand down."

"Let go of him first," Lily said, angry now. "We had a deal!"

"We had no deal. And your friend has exhausted the last of my patience. Now, I will not ask again."

Furious, and still shaking, Lily lowered her wand one more time.

The man pocketed his own wand. Lily saw James' eyebrows furrow in confusion, and she begged silently that he would simply be still. Then the man grabbed James' arm, pinned his hand in place against a thin crack in the wall.

"What?" James mumbled.

Taureau Barkley pulled a knife from his pocket-

"No! Stop!"

-and plunged it through James' palm, right into the crack.

James screamed.

"Potter!"

Lily ran to him, the man took a step back, and James' voice cracked, was hoarse, and still he screamed. He threw his head back, his eyes screwed shut, pain etched onto his face.

"Potter, I'll- I'll take it out, okay? Potter, listen to me-"

There was a crack. Lily glanced behind her quickly.

Taureau Barkley was gone.

She turned back to James. Muggles started streaming into the alley, having heard the commotion.

"What's all this?"

"Oh my God."

"What happened?"

"Potter," Lily said, wrapping her shaking fingers around the knife's hilt. "I'm going to take it out now, okay? Potter, can you hear me? Potter!"

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Through the open windows of the Hospital Wing, the melodic trills of birds accompanied by a light breeze drifted in, floated around the room, and distracted James from being lectured by his Transfiguration teacher.

"You had one job," McGonagall was saying, for what must have been the fifth time since she'd laid her furious eyes on him. "Go to the Ministry, acquire the file. Not attack a trained killer in broad daylight on Charing Cross Road!"

James had stopped arguing back, and simply reclined in his bed and pressed his lips together tightly.

"I told Dumbledore it wasn't a good idea to send you. I told him!"

"I still got the job done," he grumbled.

"And you almost got yourself killed, almost exposed magic to the world, in the process! Do you even understand how much you risked by trying to be the hero, Potter?"

"I wasn't trying to be the hero," James muttered.

"Then what were you trying to be? An idiot? Because you at least succeeded on that count!"

James glared at his bed sheets and said nothing.

"Dumbledore has finally agreed with me that it is foolish to send children on important missions."

"What? No, Professor, I'm capable-"

"Capable of getting yourself killed, perhaps. No, Potter. Until you and your friends finish your education, you shall play no further role in this war."

James sat up sharply in his bed. "I'm already playing a role in this war! My friends' lives are constantly in danger!"

"I understand that, Potter, but that isn't an excuse to throw your own life away."

"I can help!" James stood up, furious. "I made a mistake this time. Alright, I've learned my lesson. That doesn't mean you have to punish me!"

"Potter…" McGonagall sighed. "If you view this as a punishment, you haven't really learned your lesson at all." She turned and began to walk from the room, and James stared, his head pounding and his hand aching. She paused and looked back when she reached the doors. "Given the circumstances, you need not hand in your essay on human transfiguration. I do still expect to see you in class, though."

It turned out that McGonagall was not the only one James found himself on poor terms with. From the moment James and Lily had reached the Hospital Wing, she had suddenly started ignoring him. She'd simply explained the situation to Madame Pomphrey and stalked from the room, wasting not a second. James had initially thought that she simply had an aversion to blood, but when he turned up for lunch he found that she had decided to pretend he didn't exist.

"Hello? Evans, can you hear me?"

Stone faced, she looked only at her plate and ate silently. James looked at Alice and Marlene, frowning.

"She wants us to ignore you," Marlene explained.

"Marlene!" Lily turned to her and glared. "Really?"

"Oh, come on, Lily. You really wanted me to ignore him?"

"Yes."

"What are we, toddlers?"

"Hi, James," said Alice, smiling.

"Hey, Alice," said James, relaxing a little. Lily, at his voice, had gone back to eating in silence. "Erm, do you know why Evans is ignoring me?"

"Yes," said Marlene.

"No," said Alice. "She hasn't explained a thing."

"Whose side are you on?" Marlene whispered.

"Sanity's," said Alice.

"Are you sure?" Marlene raised an eyebrow. "He is your ex-boyfriend, after all."

"Quite sure."

Marlene turned back to James. "Clearly, you've done something stupid and Lily's cross with you."

"Is that what this is about, Evans? You're mad at me about earlier?"

"I was right?" asked Marlene, grinning. "Oh, I am good."

"It wasn't that hard," said Alice. "What else could it have been?"

Marlene shrugged. "I don't know. Hey, Potter, does it have anything to do with why your hand is all bandaged up?"

"Um," said James. Lily's eyes were on his hand now, but she said nothing. "Most probably."

"He punched someone," Marlene told Alice. "Really hard."

Alice shook her head. "I don't think that's it."

"Lily," said Marlene seriously, "did James punch you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Hey, do you two reckon you can let me talk to Evans alone?"

Marlene and Alice looked at Lily, who, after a few more seconds of staring at her plate, shook her head firmly. The two looked back at James apologetically.

"Alright," he sighed. "I guess I'll see you lot in class."

Not in class, not in the corridors, and nor in the Common Room would Lily look at or speak to James. It frustrated him to no end. He would approach her, talk to her, and she would maintain her position that he did not exist. The worst time over the next few days was when she had walked past James and Sirius in a corridor and nodded to the latter, saying, "Black," before continuing on her way.

"I tell you, Padfoot," James said as they walked down the stairs to the Entrance Hall, "it's like being in Fifth Year again, except worse. At least then she yelled at me."

"Women," said Sirius gruffly. "Waste of time, if you ask me."

"Right," said James slowly. "You talked to Marlene recently?"

"Why would I?"

"Because you're still friends, Padfoot."

"I don't want to be her friend."

"Right," said James again. "And you think this is a mature reaction?"

"It's the most mature reaction she's going to get from me, I'm afraid."

They entered the Great Hall, and James sighed. "We make a fine pair of prats, don't we?"

"It's one of the many things we excel at, my dear Mr Prongs."

Most of their year level was already assembled. Ahead of them all, standing atop the stairs to the teacher's table, was an elderly wizard with blue robes and a long beard. He was in the middle of what seemed like a lengthy speech, judging from the dazed expressions of their classmates.

"-your will to be in that space will manifest into the power to be in that space. From there, it is a simple matter of deliberation, and then," with a crack, the man appeared behind James and Sirius at the back of the crowd - the two jumped and turned to him awkwardly - and the man smiled, "just like that, you apparate."

At his big finish, the sixth years looked to the back of the room and clapped half-heartedly. James spotted Lily among them, who stared resolutely at the man.

They were all then given wooden hoops, and the simple instruction to apparate into those hoops. James and Sirius found Remus and Peter in the middle of the Great Hall, and as the rest of their year went about trying to apparate, the four of them relaxed, for once not seeking any attention by going and apparating on their first attempts.

They, of course, had long since mastered the skill.

"I haven't," said Peter. "I haven't mastered the skill."

"Just relax, Pete," said Sirius. "We'll teach you later."

"I think Peter should work on it now," said Remus. "In a controlled environment, with supervision."

"Ah, Remus, don't be such a Prefect."

James looked across the Great Hall to where Lily, Marlene, and Alice stood in front of their hoops. Alice and Marlene wasted no time in apparating into their own hoops, which was received by applause from the old man and some of the students. Around the room, only Snape and two Ravenclaws had also managed the feat. Lily, however, seemed to be perturbed. She stood in front of her hoop, frowning at it.

She knew how to apparate. James had seen her do it. So what was wrong?

"Hey," James said to his friends. "Is it just me, or is Evans having trouble apparating for some reason?"

"James, let her be," said Remus with a sigh.

"No, really. I think something's the matter."

"Who cares?" said Sirius. "It's not like she would want your help, anyway."

"Oi."

"It's true."

"It is true," said Remus apologetically.

James looked at Peter, who wore an identical expression to Lily, frowning at his hoop.

"Yeah," James said finally. "Alright."

And so the weeks passed, and not much changed. Lily's birthday came and went. She spent it solely with Marlene and Alice, and James didn't see much point in buying her a gift given that she would almost certainly throw it in the fireplace.

As more weeks continued to go by, her efforts to completely ignore him diminished somewhat. She had now spoken to him a total of six times. A handful of those had been things like "pass me the butter", followed closely by, "thank you". There had been one "excuse me" in the corridor, which had really made James' day. The sixth had been a "bless you" after James had sneezed. Lily had realized it was James who had sneezed, and colored quickly before averting her gaze.

And still, Lily couldn't apparate.

"There must be something wrong," said James during their fifth apparition class. "We know she can do it. Why is she struggling?"

"I'll grant you," said Remus, watching her, "it is odd that she still hasn't managed it. Lily, of all people."

"Do you think I should-"

"I think you should do nothing, James. She'll work it out."

"And when do you think she'll stop ignoring me?"

Remus hesitated. "When she first started, I thought it would last a day. Perhaps a week. That's how it's always been with you two. Hot, then cold, then hot again. But now… I don't know. She must really hate when you get into fights."

James grimaced. "I'm not sure that's all it is."

Remus shrugged. "I suppose you can try talking to her, then. At least get an answer of some sort."

"And why would she choose now to start talking to me? I've tried a million times."

"She still might not," said Remus. "I don't know. But you have a marvellous track record for not giving up when it comes to her. Work your magic."

James worked his magic the next week.

It was ten minutes before their next apparition class, and the Marauder's Map had told him exactly where to find her. The weeks spent with absolute minimal contact with her had been torture. To go from being closer than they had ever been before to their current stalemate was the worst part sort of sentence for James. He had seen her smile from across the room, but when it wasn't at him, when she wasn't laughing at something that he had said, it simply didn't feel the same, didn't make James as happy and fulfilled as he knew it could.

He missed talking to her, laughing with her, arguing with her, and simply being around her.

So he found Lily in the library, packing her things into her back, presumably about to make her way to the Great Hall.

"Evans," he said, stepping forward, "we need to talk."

She had looked up at his voice, and swiftly looked back down when she saw him.

"Come on. It's been over a month. Can I at least know why you're ignoring me?"

She swung her bag over her shoulder and started walking. James followed.

"Fine. Don't talk. I'm still going to annoy you, though."

A sigh escaped from her lips, and James grinned.

"Right. Now, I'm going to try to understand what the problem is here. You're angry because I got into a fight, and-"

"You think that's why I'm angry?"

Lily had stopped walking, and James stopped beside her. They were in the corridor outside the library by then, and James had to stop himself from beaming as a result of the longest sentence she had spoken to him in weeks.

"Isn't it?"

"No," she said, still not looking at him. "It's not even that you ignored me telling you not to do anything just so you could play the hero."

"I wasn't-" James caught himself and let out a breath. "Okay. If not all that, then what?"

"You were injured, Potter. Stabbed through the hand."

"Yes, I remember."

"I was angry because I was scared. When I saw-" Lily stopped, and breathed heavily. "Look, I haven't enjoyed ignoring you anymore than you enjoyed being ignored."

"I doubt that very much," he muttered.

"After that day, I just needed some time to come to terms with… a few things."

"Like what?"

"I'll tell you another time."

"Another time? Evans, how about right-"

She stepped forward, wound her arms around his neck, and kissed him mid-sentence. Strong and controlled was the kiss, and James could have fainted from the overload of sudden emotions and thoughts. Confusion to relief, surprise to bliss. He had known he'd missed her, but it wasn't until then that he could truly quantify just how much. His arms around her waist, and the sweet smell of her shampoo and body-wash, vanilla and honey, the perfection of Lily Evans in his arms. She was more than he deserved, yet here she was.

She pulled back, after what could have been anywhere from a minute to an hour, and smiled. "You are officially forgiven for being a prat."

"You've still explained very little," he mumbled, "but consider me grateful."

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Lily walked with him to the Great Hall, and she left him with his friends. Alice and Marlene watched Lily with raised brows, having seen them walk in together, but Lily ignored them.

The wooden hoop was in front of her.

Destination.

She could smell him.

Determination.

Broomstick polish, pressed Quidditch robes. The boy really did always smell like Quidditch.

Deliberation.

-her knees weakened, and as their bodies pressed ever closer against each other-

Lily closed her eyes, heard the crack, opened them. She was in the hoop.

"Yes," cheered Alice, hugging her.

"Finally," said Marlene. "What took you so long?"

Lily knew exactly what.

Across the room, the messy haired boy grinned at her and gave her a thumbs up. She gave him the middle finger in return, and he sniggered before turning back to his friends.

He probably didn't know the full effect ignoring him had had on her. It was that smell. That stupid smell, and that stupid potion that had done it.

Then the idiot had gone and apparated with her, all while she breathed in his damn Quidditch-scent. It had been a problem waiting to happen.

And then there was her revelation.

Getting stabbed in the hand wasn't a mortal wound by any means. It shouldn't have affected her the way it did. But as she stood in that alley, seeing him in that pain, hearing him scream, she had felt… felt a certain way that she never wanted to feel again. Ever. It had been worse than if she had been the one to get stabbed.

What is love? Lily had always wanted to know. How could one ever know? What was the test? Was there a metric? Could such a thing be measured?

The question had plagued her since that day in Potions. What she'd smelled had frightened her to her core at the time, only for her to then feel frightened, truly frightened, that day in London, upon which Lily's question was answered. Lily knew what Amortentia had known.

She loved him.

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A/N: This one took me a while. I always know exactly what will happen in each chapter, but the right words just weren't coming to me this time. Please review, kick-start my brain!