Very James-centric chapter, fair warning.

Chapter Fifteen: A Night in the Astronomy Tower

As the snow melted and the merry weather turned into a cold, dreary outlook, the 7th years at Hogwarts were reminded just how close N.E.W.T tests were. On a miserable Wednesday morning in the middle of January, Professor McGonagall announced that they would be conducting mock try-out tests.

"Try-out tests?" asked Sirius incredulously. "What the bloody hell is that?"

"Language, Mr Black," said Professor McGonagall, looking up from her parchment dangerously. "As I was saying, the board of governors think it is time for the seventh-years to experience what N.E.W.T tests will be like, if only for a brief moment. From here on, there will be two sessions of try-out tests: one next week, and the other at the end of February. I expect you all to do well, even if they do not affect your grades at all – you will find that the questions asked in the try-outs will be similar to those in the official N.E.W.T examinations."

"A bit pointless, isn't it?" whispered James to Sirius. "What's the point of having tests if they don't affect grades –"

"The point, Mr Potter, is so that the students will not feel pressured," said Professor McGonagall suddenly; James nearly jumped. She was standing, towering above him as he sank lower and lower into his chair, trying his best to smile apologetically. To his horror, Professor McGonagall gave him the smallest of smirks, and then said, "Since you think it pointless to have tests that do not affect grades, I shall pass it on to the Headmaster that you – and only you, Mr Potter – shall be graded for your Transfiguration try-outs."

James tried to force down the lump of bile that had now risen to his throat. "Come now, Professor –"

"That should put into perspective just how important N.E.W.T tests are, I think," said Professor McGonagall loftily, turning her back to him. "And now, onto Transfiguration…"

"Bugger for you," sniggered Sirius.

"Shut it," said James crossly.

There was a sudden sharp pain in the back of his head; muttering darkly, he turned around only to find Lily with her wand held out, a small ball of paper levitating in the air. She and Marlene grinned cheekily at him.

"That was really stupid of you, James," she said, lowering her wand.

"You don't say," said James, slumping back on his table and burying a hand in his hair. "I hate N.E.W.T classes…"

"Don't you love it when your boyfriend is an utter prat, Marls?" whispered Lily rather loudly.

"Quiet, all of you!" barked Professor McGonagall from the front of the class before James could retort. "We have lots to cover this morning. Heredon's Law on artificial weather manipulation! Who can tell me –?"

Without missing a beat, Lily said from behind him: "Heredon states that to create artificial weather, it needs to first go through the steps that have been set out by the laws of nature. The product of that is equal to the sum of all individual steps squared."

It was as though she had turned on a switch inside herself; one second she was teasing him relentlessly, the other she was the perfect Gryffindor witch. Professor McGonagall apparently thought so, too, for she spared him a knowing look before turning to Lily.

"Precisely," said McGonagall curtly. "What this means is that you cannot Conjure weather out of nothing. For example, thunderstorms only happen when warm air rises into cold air to create moisture, a process called condensation. And, as Miss Evans said – the product is equal to the sum of all individual steps squared. This does not mean numbers, as stated by Mr Heredon himself, but rather the intensity of the magic that is outputted through the manipulation of weather. Thunderstorms, unfortunately, are a bit too extreme to conjure, and there are several different spells needed to create even the simplest of storms. Remember that anything Conjured by magic is almost always several times more potent – or several times weaker."

James had no idea what Professor McGonagall or Lily were saying, and it appeared that Sirius, Remus and Peter were also barely keeping up. All he understood was that he had to learn a bunch of new spells if he wanted to make it rain.

"What we will be learning today is something of a favourite of mine," continued Professor McGonagall. "Lightning is both simple yet powerful – during his research, Heredon created a spell that causes particles to rub together, forming an electrical current: Fulminata. Repeat after me: Fulminata."

"Fulminata," said the seventh-years together.

"Very good," said Professor McGonagall. "Now divide into groups of two, and try to help each other with the casting. I cannot stress enough how dangerous lightning is, so for your sakes I urge you not to electrocute each other. Carry on."

Soon the desks and chairs vanished and the students scrambled around to find partners. James and Sirius were as always together in some way or another, and so it went by an unspoken agreement that they headed off by themselves near the front of the classroom.

It was of course common knowledge that N.E.W.T-level spells would have to be casted non-verbally, but it didn't mean that there weren't students who didn't despise the method. A fair amount of cheating ensued, and McGonagall gave them all an exasperated look but didn't object. Soon, amidst all the whisperings and the wand-waving, the classroom was filled with showering sparks of blue and purple as the seventh-years attempted to Conjure lightning. McGonagall swept past them as they worked, surveying closely but otherwise staying silent.

"Fulminata," muttered Sirius, pointing his wand at James. "Fulminata – Merlin, this is tiring…"

"I thought I felt a bit of a shock on that last one," said James helpfully.

"Piss off."

"Language-Mr-Black-this-is-already-your-second-warning-today-one-more-time-and-I-shall-give-you-a-detention," barked McGonagall from the back of the class.

All in all, Transfiguration turned out to be uneventful. James did no better than Sirius, and the only person who had successfully managed to Conjure lightning that was more than a few little sparks was Alice, who had zapped Emmeline in the back. McGonagall rounded it off by setting them homework (a foot on the etymology of the word Fulminata, to which Sirius swore loudly and promptly landed himself a detention), and by the time the bell rang, the students exited the class quickly. James, however, lingered back and told Sirius to go on without him, and shuffled towards Professor McGonagall's desk.

"What is it, Potter?" said Professor McGonagall, fixing her beady eyes on him.

James ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"Professor, er… I wanted to talk about the – er – the try-out tests."

Professor McGonagall looked at him over her square spectacles but didn't say anything.

"You can't really be serious, Professor?" he blurted out. "About having my tests graded? It was all a joke, wasn't it?"

Professor McGonagall looked down under her desk and pulled out a folder. James didn't see what the label was, for she covered it with her hand a moment later.

"I'm afraid not, Potter," she said. "You will sit your Transfiguration exam next week with the knowledge that I will be grading it with N.E.W.T standards. It is high time you took your education seriously."

"Oh," was all he could say. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach; what did it mean that he didn't take his education seriously?

Professor McGonagall sighed and opened the folder. She pulled out a small piece of parchment out of it and set it carefully so that he could see. Squinting through his glasses, he saw his name on the top in large, bold letters.

"Do you know why I'm doing this, Potter?" asked Professor McGonagall in a voice very different from the one she had used before. When James shook his head, she continued, "Look at your file. Do you notice anything?"

Under his name were all of his grades after O.W.L results. The first subject, Arithmancy, was littered with Es. The next, Charms, had a neat little line of O's along with the occasional Es. The whole parchment was covered in them; he had not a single E in Transfiguration, and the only A he had was on History of Magic. It was something any student would be proud of, and James certainly was; why was McGonagall criticizing him, of all people?

"To tell you the truth, Professor, I don't," said James after a short while.

"Hmph," said Professor McGonagall. "Do you remember your career choice before your O.W.L?"

"What?"

She pointed at a little footnote at the bottom of the parchment. James hadn't noticed it before, but there, scribbled in his own half-arsed handwriting, and though the words were tiny they seemed to glare at him with a kind of savage pleasure: Quidditch Star.

"Quidditch star…" he murmured out loud. "What –?"

"Is it still your ambition to be a Quidditch player, Potter?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Oh – um… I don't know," admitted James truthfully. "I thought it made sense back then, but now…"

"Precisely my point, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, retracting his file and placing it back in the folder. "When you told me of your career choice, I made it no secret that I was surprised by it."

"Surprised?" said James incredulously. "You don't think I'll be a decent Quidditch player? I've gotten offers from teams –"

"Potter, you would be a fantastic Quidditch player," said Professor McGonagall in a very matter-of-fact voice. "What I'm trying to say is that with your talent and skills, I think you should be pursuing something more… worthwhile."

James's body felt strangely light. "Talent and skills? Worthwhile? I'm sorry, Professor, but I have no idea –"

"I don't mean to inflate your ego, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, her lips thinning dangerously, "But forgive me when I say that you are a brilliant student, and I think it would be a waste for a wizard such as yourself to play Quidditch professionally."

He stood there rather gormlessly, his mouth slightly open; he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Professor McGonagall – the same Professor McGonagall that had encouraged him, cheered for him, and congratulated him when he was playing Quidditch – was now telling him that she didn't think playing professionally was a suitable career choice for him. He'd had doubts ever since he'd written that, of course, but he couldn't think of what else to put back then.

"But…" said James, "What's this got to do with the Transfiguration try-out?"

"You have shown a talent for the subject that I rarely see among students," she said stiffly. "You and Mr Black both. What you are missing, Potter, is a push. You are still unsure of what to do with your life after Hogwarts – I think, with guidance, you will come to an answer."

"So why isn't Sirius having his test graded?"

"Mr Black, bless him, has already written a suitable career choice, one I am sure he is actually ambitious of, and is working hard to achieve."

"So…" said James, scratching his neck. "What do you think is a suitable career choice for me?"

Professor McGonagall knitted her eyebrows together. "That is for you to find out. When the time comes for us to have this conversation again, I expect you to have your answer ready. If you still wish to become a Quidditch player, I shall not object, and will of course support you. Think long and hard about it – this is not a matter to be taken lightly."

She stood up and neatly placed his folder back in her drawer. "I expect you to do better than your peers in the try-out tests. If that is all, I suggest you go back to your common room, or else your break will have ended. Good day to you, Mr Potter."

The week passed slowly, and his pile of work increased with it. He barely got anything done, however, as his nights were spent reviewing for Transfiguration. Gifted though he was at the subject, if he didn't do well on the mock exams (McGonagall had kindly reminded him again that his Transfiguration tests were now being graded, and that he should be putting in twice the amount of work as other students) he was sure to fail.

Late at night on Saturday, after having spent the whole day studying with Lily, he lay on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, thoroughly exhausted but satisfied with the progress he was making. Lily had gone up to the Heads' Tower some time ago; the common room was empty and dark except for a lamp near his papers. He was nearly half asleep, and his eyes kept closing and fluttering open a few seconds later.

He hadn't had much time to think about his career choice, what with the upcoming storm of tests starting Monday. He still felt as though he wanted to just get it over with and focus on being a Quidditch player, but the smaller, more rational part of him held him back. He knew, deep down, that the reason he was so unsure of what he wanted to do was because he was afraid: afraid of life outside of Hogwarts; he felt no different than he did two years ago when he'd chosen his career. He was afraid of failure, which was why he'd thought that being able to play Quidditch professionally – something he was undoubtedly good at – would set him up for life. He was afraid that he wouldn't be able to live up to the expectations of those that believed in him: Professor McGonagall, his parents, Lily and his friends…

His reasoning was stupid, he knew that much.

Absorbed as he was in his own self-pity, James flinched when he felt someone tap his shoulder rather aggressively. Staring around, he saw a tall figure looking down disapprovingly at him, his face illuminated slightly by the light of the lamp.

"Oh, it's you, Moony," said James, relieved. "What's the matter?"

Remus crossed his arms. "Don't we have a patrol together? I've been waiting outside for ten minutes."

"We do?"

James's voice had risen several notes higher. He searched desperately in his mind for the Prefects' timetables; with a heavy heart, he saw, under the label Saturday, his own name coupled with Remus's.

"Bloody hell, I completely forgot," said James, rubbing eyes. "I'm really sorry, Moony. I was just so into this… I lost track of the time. Let me clean up, and then we'll head out."

To his surprise, Remus sniggered.

"Don't worry about it," he said easily. "Lily's already offered to cover for your shift. I guess she saw how – er, distraught? – you were, and gave you the night off."

"She did?" said James gratefully, feeling a sudden rush of affection for his girlfriend. "Merlin, what did I do to deserve her?"

Remus shrugged. "She was the one that sent me to tell you, too. She felt that you'd be… distracted from your studying if she was the one to come in."

"Can't say she was wrong," murmured James. "Thank her for me, will you?"

"Thank her yourself," said Remus, turning his back to him. "You're free to sleep here, of course, if you want."

"Thanks, Moony," said James, yawning greatly. "Well, be careful, I guess. Good night."

Remus paused in front of the portrait hole, smiling slyly. "Make sure you spend more time with her, because she was hinting that she was tired of seeing you up to your neck in books."

"I will," promised James. "You tell her that, too."

He was already pushing his textbooks back into his bag when he heard him say, in a voice no louder than a murmur, "Should I tell her you love her, too? Because it's only so obvious. You know, that you two're bloody in love with each other."

And then he left, leaving James alone to process what he had just said.

On Monday morning, Professor McGonagall informed the Gryffindor seventh-years that the try-out tests would be conducted that afternoon, and that they should be using the time between breakfast and lunch to review. Gryffindor Tower was subdued after that little announcement; even Sirius and Peter, who usually had no problems with disturbing other people, had sat down with James to study. The try-out tests, according to Professor McGonagall, would be all theory – meaning there would be no need for wands.

The first two exams, Transfiguration and History of Magic, would be held during a time period of four hours. James and Lily led the way as the seventh years all went down to the Great Hall for lunch, and after it was over, they milled around in the Entrance Hall for a bit longer until at half-past one they were called over class by class to begin the try-outs. The Great Hall was now arranged exactly the same as it had been for their O.W.L two years ago; the four house tables had Vanished and replaced instead by individual desks, all facing the staff table at the front of the Great Hall where Professor McGonagall stood. James thought he saw her nod discreetly at him, but when he squinted at her she had already disappeared behind a large scroll of parchment.

When Professor McGonagall said, "You may begin," James turned over his paper, feeling slightly nauseous. Giving Sirius one last wink, more to calm his nerves than anything, he set his eyes on the first question: Using your own words, explain Heredon's Law on artificial weather manipulation.

James smiled as his thoughts wandered off to his conversation with Professor McGonagall just a couple of days ago. Fighting back the urge to laugh as the words Quidditch Star formed in his mind, he bent down and began to write.

Overall, James thought he didn't do too badly on any of his exams. After Transfiguration, he felt like his mind had imploded, and he'd been unable to focus during History of Magic. For the next three days he felt as though he were living inside a fever dream; Lily barely talked to him these days, as she was usually nose-down reading some textbook. On the final day of the try-outs (Defence Against the Dark Arts and Divination), he asked her whether she'd had breakfast yet, and she replied that dragons usually roasted their food with a softer flame.

He'd forgotten just how serious she was when it came to exams. She'd studied more than James had over the past few days, which was completely unnecessary according to him. She was snappish and mean, and would take points off people who were being too loud (mostly Marlene and Mary and Sirius) and in the end James was glad to be rid of this new, aggressive Lily.

On Friday afternoon, after enduring Slughorn's not-so-subtle hints that Lily had done extremely well, James entered the Transfiguration classroom with a new emotion that he'd never experienced before there: dreadfulness. For the first time in his life, he was begging whatever deity existed that he'd done well enough to impress Professor McGonagall.

When she strode in a few minutes after the bell, she gave no indication that he'd done anything out of the ordinary, and continued with her lesson plan as though the try-outs hadn't happened. He had no time to dwell on that; Professor McGonagall surveyed the classroom swiftly and announced that she would be testing them on their Lightning Conjuration spells. Thanks to his long study sessions, James had no problems whatsoever, and he caught a glimpse of his 'O' score on McGonagall's parchment before she dismissed him, and he went back to his desk.

James had fully relaxed when the bell rang at the end of the lesson, and was talking heartily with Lily about the upcoming Provisional Field Licenses when Professor McGonagall called him back.

"One moment, Potter."

All the other students had either left or were leaving, and Lily was watching him curiously from the door frame. He smiled nervously at her, muttered something about catching up with her later, and promptly turned around to meet Professor McGonagall, the palm of his hands feeling slightly sweatier than usual.

She eyed him impassively from behind her desk. She flicked her wand and a hard wooden chair appeared, revolving slowly in the air, and then it dropped opposite from her.

"Sit," she said. James obeyed.

"So…" he began nervously. He didn't know what to expect; should he tell her that he had tried his best, and that he was satisfied with his grade, whatever it was? Or had he failed completely, and had made a fool out of himself during the exam?

Professor McGonagall frowned at him. "You'll be pleased to learn that I've finished grading the Transfiguration try-outs."

"Erm… yes."

"That includes your own, Potter."

"Yes, Professor."

She leaned forwards, placing her hands on top of the other, still frowning at him. Then she said, "And you will also be pleased to learn that I was satisfied, Potter, very satisfied, with your grade."

He immediately sank in his chair, letting out a sigh of relief that he didn't know he'd been holding. His heartbeat had increased dramatically as soon as Professor McGonagall had spoken, but it was now returning to normal as she raised her eyebrow at him, a ghost of a smile finding its way onto her face.

She pulled out a roll of parchment from under her desk and smoothed it over so that he could see. There, at the top, was his name. Below was the date. What caught his attention the most, though, was the triumphant-looking black 'O' to the corner of the parchment.

"I shall of course put this in your file," continued Professor McGonagall. "Believe me when I say that it is no small feat to get an 'O' in my class, especially if I am marking to `.W.T standard."

James nodded, barely containing his smile. "Thanks, Professor."

"I expect to see the same result on your N.E.W.T," said Professor McGonagall, in a tone very different from the one he had grown used to; it was not stern and brisk; he did not want to think too much about it, but he thought he detected a trace of pride in her voice.

"You are doing very well, Potter," she said. "I do not give out compliments very often, so please don't take it for granted."

He laughed shakily. "No, Professor. Thank you."

He made to give back his graded test, but she shook her head and stood up. "Keep it. It's yours, after all; I have your mark here already. Set it as your goal."

Then she walked around her desk and held the door open for him.

"That is all, Potter. Do enjoy the weekend; I hear it's the first sunny day in weeks," she said, pointing him out of her classroom.

James found Lily leaning against the wall opposite the Transfiguration classroom, head down as she continued reading his book, The Tales of Warlock Warzov. When she heard him come near, she smiled at him and held out her hand, and they both set off together.

"What did Professor McGonagall want?" she asked.

He shrugged, deciding right then if she wanted to know, he would tell her. "You know. She had my try-out test graded and put into my record, so she wanted me to know how I did."

Lily paused for a moment, frowning. "I'm not even going to ask, because then I'll just feel frustrated all over again."

James laughed and threw his arm around her. "Well said."

They continued all the way towards Gryffindor Tower, where the atmosphere was airy and light; it was the weekend, at last, and after enduring a whole bouquet of tests and exams the seventh-years were desperate to relax. James was looking forward to taking a long nap; half an hour after dinner he found himself staggering up the stairway, alone, his body longing for his warm bed and pillows.

He hadn't had much sleep for the past few days. On top of the restless studying he did, he also had Quidditch practice, which made him sore and tired. He was reasonably pleased with how well the team was doing; Marlene flew as fast as ever, now that she'd gotten a new broom from Sirius; Hector and Paris formed a sort of Chaser-Beater tag team that seemed unstoppable. As for the rest of the team – Harley, Alex, and Charles – needed a bit of work, but he felt by the time the first match of the year rolled around they would already have smoothed things over.

James yawned widely as he said the password to the portrait of the two wizards. Making straight for his dorm, he tried not to trip over the stairs and entered his room. His thoughts were still on Quidditch when he opened his trunk; seeing that his Invisibility Cloak was rumpled and stuffed hastily, he folded it and pulled out his pyjamas.

He set his glasses near his bed-side table and got into bed but did not pull the curtains around his four-poster; he instead stared out the window next to his bed, where a slimmer of starry sky was visible. His thoughts strayed absently to that day's events; he vaguely remembered his conversation with Professor McGonagall, though that had seemed so long ago… he smirked to himself in the darkness as he recalled a joke about how a Parselmouth asked for directions he'd said over dinner that had made Lily laugh so hard, she'd knocked over her cup of coffee and got Alice's dress stained…

And yet, she'd seemed disappointed when he announced that he would be turning in for the night. He couldn't blame her – he was seventeen, for Merlin's sake, what was he doing going to sleep at 7? – but still, his body needed sleep. Even if it was just for a few hours, he thought he'd be all right in the morning…

There's always tomorrow, he thought, turning over on to his side. We'll have the whole day to spend together… maybe we'll go to Hogsmeade when no one's looking, or just hang around the Tower…

A tree rustled against his window. Somewhere out in the night, an owl hooted.

James dreamed he was out on the Quidditch Pitch. He was getting yelled at by two giant heads that greatly resembled Hector and Paris; they said he was flying too slow, and that the Snitch would eat him if he did not catch it quickly… James argued back, saying that he was a Chaser and therefore did not need to catch the Snitch, they should be yelling at Marlene… Hector's gigantic head then turned into Marlene, and she bellowed, "I'm bloody dead, James Potter! I can't catch Snitches!" And then he looked down in shame; of course she was dead, the Death Eaters had gotten her, the death of the McKinnons had made headline news just a few days ago… his broom morphed into a huge wooden pole, and then he was sliding off it, falling into the air as the pole twitched and a hand gripped it tighter; the wand was pointed directly at him as he streaked through, feeling weightless and free, but at the same time, there was a feeling of all-encompassing dread coursing through his body…

Green light flashed out the tip, and then he stopped right where he had just been flying, suspended mid-air. Too late, he noticed his feet were dragging him down; he was falling into a black pit, his hand reaching upwards desperately to cling to something, anything – he wanted to shout, to yell for help, but though his mouth opened no sound came out; the light above him grew fainter and fainter until it was a single star…

Then the darkness gave way as he fell through an invisible barrier; where the light had been, there was now a stone archway, covered in a tattered black veil; he had just gone through it, all he had to do was reach out… the light had not yet gone, he could see it through the veil, surely he would pass through…

He heard agitated whispers and murmurs all around him, but when he strained his ears as he swam through the black landscape, he realized with horror that they were repeating the same thing: James Potter… James Potter… James Potter…

The dream faded, and a girl's voice whispered: "James."

At first, James thought he was still asleep. His room was as black as his dream had been; as his eyes adjusted, and he took a couple of deep breaths, he realized there was someone else there.

Lily was standing by his berth, smiling down at him.

Her red hair fell across her shoulders. Her green eyes were bright with amusement and mischief. She smelled good; hints of pumpkin and cinnamon, reminding him somewhat of autumn…

"Wh – wuzzgoingon?" he asked. "Is something wrong? Did somebody break curfew?"

"No," she said, her voice low. "It's the middle of the night."

"The middle of the…" James's heart started to race. He realised he was still in his pyjamas, in bed, and he wasn't falling through anything. He'd probably been making weird noises as he dreamed, and she was just there to check on him. No doubt his hair was wilder and his breath didn't smell great. "You mean you sneaked into my room?"

"Yep."

She had said it so easily, in a voice so carefree… James wanted with all his heart to hug her right then.

He didn't, though. Instead, he asked her, "So… why did you sneak into my room?"

Lily shrugged, pushing some of the hair out her eyes. "I just thought we could take a walk. We haven't had any time to be together alone. Now, with everybody asleep… well, nobody's going to bother us. Probably."

"Take a walk?" he whispered hoarsely. "Lils, it's the middle of the night –"

She rolled her eyes. "James, you're already of age. You can't seriously be worried about getting caught by Filch."

"I don't know if you've forgotten, but he has the authority to give out lashings to students," he mumbled, eyeing her nervously. "Besides, we're Head students. We can't go around flaunting our authority…"

"We won't be flaunting our authority," said Lily. "We're just going to do our best not to be seen. Besides, I'm tired of being a model student. We need to let off steam once in a while, don't you think?"

James's pulse was still in overdrive, but it wasn't from fear of getting into trouble. "All right… can I, you know, clean myself up a bit?"

"Go ahead," said Lily. "We're not snogging until I'm one hundred per cent sure you're bed bug-free."

She was waiting outside of his room, still dressed in her nightgown. James had decided it was time to show her his Invisibility Cloak, and he pulled it over them as they crossed the common room.

"Since when have you had this?" she asked, incredulous.

"Ever since I started Hogwarts," said James. "How do you think I'm able to get away with everything I do?"

"Fair point," said Lily. "Did you bring that map of yours?"

He'd forgotten that she knew about the Marauder's Map. He blamed it on Peter; he and the other boys had trudged into the Head's Tower – roaring drunk, no less – and had cried to James about how he'd forgotten how to open the Map. Lily had been sitting right next to James as Peter sobbed, unashamedly, all over the wooden floor, but he thought he saw a hint of amazement as she opened the Map for the first time.

"'Course I did," said James. "Rule number one of going on late-night strolls: take all necessary precautions."

The portrait door opened as James knocked on it; the two wizards looked around, confused and sleepy, but he didn't bother telling them they were there. It closed quietly.

"Where are we going, exactly?" asked James.

Lily smiled. "Astronomy Tower? I hear it's a great place to spend the night."

They worked their way past Gryffindor Tower and several different classrooms. The castle looked eerily different at night; it was peaceful and quiet, with its sleeping paintings and dim-lit hallways. They descended the staircases, keeping careful not to let the Invisibility Cloak slip over their heads.

She led him past the empty Great Hall, which looked slightly creepy to him, with shining goblets and unlit candles floating in the air. They at last reached the foot of the Astronomy Tower near the front doors of the castle, and Lily unlocked the wooden gate then pulled him inside.

The top of the tower was exposed to the cold night air. Brass telescopes lined the walls, and large globes covered in blankets formed an O-shape around one large sun. James slid the Invisibility Cloak off them and quickly regretted it; it was very cold.

Casting a Heating Charm on them both, Lily grabbed a blanket from the nearest globe and spread it across part of the stone parapet. "Sit with me."

They relaxed on the blanket as if they were having a picnic, and watched the heavens move above them.

"I miss having Astronomy classes," murmured Lily, leaning into him. "I always loved hearing Professor Sinistra go on about the stars and celestial bodies."

"So why didn't you take it for N.E.W.T classes?" asked James.

Lily snorted. "I got a P on my O.W.L, thank you very much. I was never cut out for the subject."

"Yeah, me neither," admitted James. "D'you remember that one time in fifth year when Sinistra said that she was glad to be rid of me? I kept breaking her telescopes –"

"If I recall, you used them to get back at Peeves for dumping Stinksap on your head," said Lily. "I don't blame her, to be honest."

She Conjured two large pillows and gave one to him. He wished she hadn't; the pillows were starting to make him sleepy again…

"Do you know why I brought you up here, James?" she asked.

"I thought you just wanted to break the rules a bit."

"Well, yeah," said Lily, smiling apologetically. "But I just want to talk while we have the chance. It's strange to believe we'll be out of Hogwarts by this time next year."

"It feels like yesterday I was just getting sorted into Gryffindor," murmured James. "Things are different when the world's in chaos, aren't they? What with the Ministry becoming more corrupt, Voldemort attacking –"

"James."

"Right," he laughed. "Sorry, sorry. No more talk about bad things. I'm just not ready to face the world yet."

His voice had grown low, as it always did when he thought about his future. Lily smiled understandingly.

"Scary place, huh?"

"Terrifying," agreed James.

They sat together cuddling, enjoying each other's warmth. James pointed out the various constellations present above them: there was Orion, streaking through the night with his bow… Lily gestured her finger at Sirius, the brightest star in the sky… sharing a light laugh, they both pulled the blanket around them a little tighter, and he felt his heart hammer his chest uncomfortably.

"Something's been bothering me," said Lily. "About us… about how we got together."

"Oh?"

His heart was still thumping, but it was not due to excitement anymore. He glanced at Lily, her face ghostly and beautiful, but at the same time, there was a distance to it that he couldn't quite understand.

She took a deep breath. "Last year, when we made a truce… I wasn't sure what to think of it. I thought it was another one of your pranks at first. But then you started being nice and all, and we became friends, didn't we?"

"We did," said James slowly. "The very best."

Lily smiled. "Yes, the very best. By the time winter rolled around, I felt like I could talk to you about anything. I told you all about my home life, and Petunia, and Severus…"

She stared wistfully at the sky. James's stomach squirmed slightly, but he ignored it – she was just reminiscing, and he had nothing to worry about.

"And you listened to me. You gave me advice, and you offered to go to Hogsmeade, to get drinks…"

"I wanted to distract you," admitted James. "You seemed all upset, and I thought you needed something to do. We never did go to Hogsmeade, mind you."

"No," she said. "But it was enough. It was then that I realised – fully accepted my feelings. I grew to like you."

She scooted a little closer to him, and he caught a whiff of her scent again: cinnamon and pumpkin. He breathed in, and he was reminded, once again, of fall leaves and picnics on the grounds…

But then he remembered why they were having this conversation.

"So what's bothering you?"

She didn't answer. For a moment, James thought she had fallen asleep, but then he looked down at her; she still had that far-off look in her face, like there was something she couldn't fathom. James waited, but she remained silent, leaning into his chest, her face illuminated by the moon's silver.

"Why did you change?" she murmured at last. "Something happened between the summer of our fifth and sixth years. You grew up, you became mature… in the back of my mind, it's always been nagging me, like the only reason you changed was so that you could go out with me."

She looked up at him, her face curious. It was James's turn to stay silent; she'd thought he'd changed for her? In hindsight, he couldn't blame Lily. No doubt everybody else that knew him thought he changed to get the girl.

But it was so much more than that. The fact that Lily had finally accepted him, given him a chance… it had never been his intention. He had resolved to give up on her in the beginning of his sixth year.

"Obviously I know that's not the case," said Lily hurriedly, seeing her mistake. "I know it's stupid, I know that you wouldn't change so drastically just to get into a relationship."

"No," he said, amused.

"So why?"

James thought for a moment. There were a multitude of reasons for why he'd decided to clean up his act, but he felt that it would take a while to explain.

He remembered reading the news one summer morning: Muggle Family of 5 tortured, murdered by Death Eaters. It had sparked in him a sense of self-righteous anger; so the Death Eaters thought they could get away with tearing apart people's lives. He remembered opening the door one night to find Sirius, his face sunken and gaunt and looking scared out of his mind, but he'd smiled and said, I finally got rid of them, Prongs.

He looked at Lily again – smart, wonderful Lily – someone that understood him, and accepted him for who he was.

"I guess…" he said finally, "I guess… when it comes down to it… I changed for Sirius."

Lily stared at him, an eyebrow raised and her mouth parted slightly. "What?"

"That sounded a lot better in my head," muttered James. "What I'm trying to say – all the whys and hows of my sudden so-called change – I realised that all the little things didn't matter anymore. When Sirius moved in, it made me realise just how desperate things were. How Voldemort was rising, and the world was falling apart… when you look at the big picture, stuff like hexing people and playing pranks become insignificant, don't they?"

He looked at her carefully, waiting to see her reaction. She smiled amusedly, as though his answer had satisfied her.

"Even when he's not here, you can't stop talking about your best mate, can you?"

"Well, you asked," said James in affronted tones. "I have a lot to thank him for. I wouldn't change him for the whole world."

"Yeah, me neither," she sighed. "You know he was the one who told me not to worry about you? He said that you'd come around eventually."

"He did?" asked James, aghast. "He set fire to all my Valentine's Day cards while looking me straight in the eye. Guess he wanted to play matchmaker."

Lily smirked. "Sirius Black: greatest Cupid of all time."

They both laughed heartily. The doubt in him vanished; he'd cleared things up between them, they were fine now.

"We've come so far, haven't we?" breathed Lily. "You were an arrogant prat at first. You were always mean to Severus, and you annoyed me. Then we became rivals, and I thought you didn't like me anymore. Then –"

"So you started liking me after I stopped? A bit counterintuitive, wasn't it?"

She leaned over and kissed him; a good, proper kiss, with no Sirius to catcall them, no pesky professors to berate them.

She pulled away. "I love you, James."

His heart beat faster and faster as Lily smiled – there was no regret behind it, no indication whatsoever that she wanted to take back what she had said. He felt as though his insides had melted and were now evaporating out of him, which might explain why he was strangely light.

"You don't have to say it back," murmured Lily. "I just thought you ought to know –"

He pulled her close to him and kissed her. A long, long kiss.

He didn't feel that a simple I love you conveyed just how strongly he felt about her. It didn't do her justice; not her beauty, for he felt that it was greater than anybody else's; not her intelligence, for there was no one with a mind quite like Lily's; nor her ability to show empathy, and kindness, and love – what were three words going to do to show her how much she meant to him?

But he broke away and faced her, inches away, her warm breath mixing in with his.

"I loved you first," he whispered. "Thought you ought to know."

Lily made a little sigh, as though something in her rib cage had melted as well.

They stayed silent after that; no words were needed to understand how they felt. James's mind strayed away from the grim future that was sure to come, and instead he set it to a time not too far from now.

And yet, in spite of everything, in spite of the dark archway that he'd seen in his dream, that stretched off into the distance, dark and twisting, in spite of his final year at Hogwarts, and the inevitable deaths he must face, whether it be his own, or anybody else's, he felt his heart soar at the thought that there was still a slimmer of hope, however small it may be…

Dumbledore had said it, he remembered, as he closed his eyes and leaned into Lily's head resting on his shoulder. Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

After all, he mused, even in the archway, up above in the distance, there had been a light. And it had given him hope.

I've changed the last scene so that it isn't too similar to the one u/RavenclawRules7 pointed out. Thanks!

Also weird problem: whenever I try to save the file all N.E.W.T spellings with an s at the end (so basically NEWTs) automatically change to just N.E. Problem persists with O.W.L as well. Dunno why that is, but I just wanted to clarify.

So, yeah. Enjoy the chap, and Read and Review, as always. Toodle-oo.