My Dearest Remus,
That darkness does the face of Earth entomb, when living light should kiss it? And by that I do mean, of course, that I hope you're not making a habit of that pessimism, you'll get wrinkles, and even though you're very handsome I don't know that it'll stand the test of time. I've been reading 'Macbeth' in my spare time between shifts, because someone left a copy of the English version in a tear in my mattress. Dog-eared and notated. It probably meant a lot to someone. When I asked, they said the person who slept on it before is dead. Who's pessimistic now?
Your letter(s) were concerningly short for your standards. Should I be worried? Don't answer that; blink twice. Misspell three words in your next letter, then I'll know for sure. Maybe the wolves are reading the letters you send, or James, if you're sending them through him. Have you really not been writing to him? I would tell you off, but I've been doing the same. I'm not quite sure why. I keep trying to come up with excuses for it in my head and you know what I think it is? I think it's shame. I think it's not just shame either; it's the fact that if I started writing to him I don't think I'd stop. But I suppose you know all about that sort of obsessiveness.
So yeah, I'm doing okay. It's lonely but I've got enough friends that I usually don't feel it. I think of you all the time, you and him. And no, I have not run into Black on a trip to Netto Marken-Discount. Yes, that's the real name of a shop near me. A chain, no less! Preposterous. And I thought we Brits were bad at naming things. (Apologies for referring to you as a Brit - a mortal insult, I'm sure.)
I spend most of the time sitting with the kids and keeping them entertained, or patrolling the perimeter. A few times, they've let me go out gathering with some of the older Keepers, to West Germany where we harvest shrivelfig and alihotsy by nightfall. But most of the time they keep me here. It makes me antsy. I miss the insecurity of London, the risk. God I sound like James. Blinking twice.
Suppose I won't have to miss it much longer, though! By the time I send this, we will have already seen each other again. And god knows there'll be some risk involved there. This is a crazy idea. I assume you know that. I assume if you were here right now you would say to me 'Lily, since when has that stopped us?' Or you would say 'I'm distracted by how sad I am about my love life'.
Sorry. I shouldn't tease you. I miss him too, if it means anything to you to hear that. I miss him like I've never missed anything, even more than I miss you. It's crazy what a year can do. If you'd told me in second year that one day I would lie down at night and dream of seeing his stupid smile again, I would've hexed you out of the room.
I'm getting rambly. I'm sorry for that. I'll see you soon, okay? I am saying that mostly to myself.
When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain? (Or will it be on the Hogwarts Train?)
- Yours (affectionately), Lily.
"Can you take my patrol shift for me tonight?"
"Jesus Christ," Lily says, looking up from her bed, on which is spread exactly three knives, a pair of brass knuckles, a spare bra, a lighter, five potions flasks (two dittany, two explosive drafts, one grafting fluid), six clip-on razor heads, and a bottle of painkillers. "Tonight? I'm leaving tomorrow."
Clara makes a face. "Mattes and I are going out tonight," she says. "I told you about it, you remember, no? He's taking me into town. We are going to people-watch the muggles and kiss behind the film theatre."
"It's a movie theatre," Lily corrects. "And can't you save it for another night? Not that I don't appreciate being privy to your conquests. I wish you all the best in them, truly. I just have to be out of Rostock by dawn."
Clara pads across to her. There are five beds in here but they're the only ones in the room right now. There is rarely time to lie around in Rostock.
"Please?" she whines. "You know how unlucky I can be with boys. I was considering amortentia."
"Ha."
"You would have helped me brew it!"
"If we weren't so short on ingredients that David has had to scrape old thrown-out flasks clean to get to the shit stuck to the bottom, yeah."
"They made him do that?"
"He volunteered," Lily sighs, like it's quite tragic. "Wanted to help with the war effort."
"Bless his little heart." Clara sighs heavily, flopping on her back onto Lily's bed and almost hitting the back of her head on the bottle of pills.
Lily sighs and shuffles everything into her backpack. She zips it up and flops down onto her back beside Clara. They both lie there staring at the ceiling for a while.
"You sent a letter the other day," Clara says. "Family?"
"A friend. He's in Wales."
"You have friends?"
"I'm eminently likeable. And you know that, otherwise you wouldn't be asking me for favours. My temperament necessitates their completion."
"Shut up," Clara groans. She rolls her head around to look at Lily, grinning in the side of her mouth. "Oh, Lily. The flower of my heart. My bosom friend. You help me so much. If it were not for you I would have tossed myself into the ocean by now. Your heart, it is larger than the submarine they have off the coast. Laboe."
"I'm the single thread keeping you on the mortal coil," Lily agrees. "Which is why you're palming me your wages for this week."
Clara smacks her on the arm. "I was going to get him flowers!"
"No you weren't!"
"Well I was thinking about it!" she defends. "You can be so judgemental sometimes."
Lily cracks up laughing. "Forgive me for thinking that if anyone deserves your attention, it isn't a boy."
"Mattes isn't just a boy." Clara sighs wistfully. "He's a man."
"He's five foot four. I could step on him if I wanted to."
"But you're valiantly protecting my future romantic prospects."
"Grudgingly," Lily sighs. "I'll take your bloody shift. Go on."
Clara rolls over and kisses her on the cheek. She slides off the bed. "You are a lifesaver!"
"Half your wages! A third!"
She tosses Lily a Mark, which Lily catches out of the air. "Don't spend it all in one place!"
Lily watches her leave with a heavy sigh. A crack in the ceiling rains a bit of dust; the kids must be running around upstairs. She watches it intently, scared for a moment that the ceiling will fall in and they'll have to deal with all of that paperwork. Then, she stands up off the bed and brushes a hand over her short hair.
A shift for tonight it is.
Rostock is a colourful town. Perhaps too colourful for the current state of Germany, but nobody's complaining. It's got these bricky, heavy townhouses all through the centre, in wide rows, all different colours. They all go pointed towards the top, flat-faced and pastel, with white gilded windows, their bodies painted red, pink, yellow, green. The town must look from a distance, Lily thinks, like a mismatched box of wrapped chocolates. A whole tin of Roses, and it smells as sweet as that too, bakers on every corner spinning soft-peaked sugar into gold dust, serving it for more than most people here get in their monthly paycheck.
Lily grew up in the midlands, in a stretch of town that never recovered from the war, Hangletonish and carrying ghosts on its shoulders. And thus she has known poverty like an old friend. Returning to it here has made her nostalgic in a way she has never been before, not in her memory, which is rather nice.
Now she is at work, and feels much like one of the old soldiers from her hometown, hollow-eyed and curling gnarled grey fingers behind the heavy brown lapels of their Service Club jackets. She imagines she has the presence they did, of something that would not attack you but could if it wanted to. A coiled spring orange-rusted shut. She doesn't remember their faces. Most of them are dead now. Petunia used to say they gave her the creeps, intimidated her like nothing else, but that was when they were too young to understand the world yet, and before Lily did that instead.
Tonight it's quiet out there; over the red rooftops of the town, out towards the ocean, which glimmers in a great dark mass. Beyond it, too far to see, is more Europe. Sweden or something; Lily doesn't know. West lies the coast of Newhaven, burning like some strange torch. Hundreds of miles away, but she still imagines she can see it.
"You heard about that?" someone asked her a few days ago, when Lily mentioned it at the breakfast table. "British, aren't you? Do you know anything about it?"
"No," Lily told them. "The Order won't fix it."
"Won't they?"
"If you were a death eater unafraid of getting muggles killed," Lily asked rhetorically, "would you put out the deadly fire burning miles up your countryside, or would you sit and wait for the Order to do it first so you could snap them up as they worked?"
"Suppose you're right about that." And they looked away and started up their old conversation with someone else.
Feels like the whole world is burning these days; fiendfyre in Newhaven, arson down the south coast of uncouth Europe, great pillars of flame spotted miles away as Pureblood homes caught alight. Another the other day, close to the south coast of Germany. Too close for comfort, someone said as Lily sat with the kids the other night, and she disagrees. She is already a wildfire; she is already burning. She would welcome more flame to eat.
Lily patrols the far edge of the sanctuary for an hour or two without pausing. She paces until she's sure her legs have numbed with it, moving entirely on autopilot. Through the fence and down the hill, the city lies far away enough that muggle children don't stumble on them and GDR soldiers haven't discovered them yet. Its lights cast an odd glow across the chiseled underside of the clouds, hovering low and still, unmoving. There are gunshots from far below most nights. She has never asked what they're from; she can guess. The shadow of the Iron Curtain is too far from here to see, but she knows better than anybody that you don't have to see something to know it's there.
Remus is being predictably pathetic lately, she thinks, on the topic of things you cannot see that have outlived themselves, a sort of necromancy. Her gut aches with sympathy for his plight as much as it shrivels with hate for it. He can be unimaginably forgiving sometimes; you could punch him in the face and he wouldn't ask why you'd done it. It's a fatal flaw, and perhaps something foreign put it into him, family or inheritance, country or love, or James. It's going to get him killed one of these days and he probably won't even care. There's not much he cares about, least of all himself. That's something she learned about him in London.
"You're leaving tonight aren't you?" asks Mattias from behind her.
Lily heard him coming but pretends to jump anyway. "Matt? You scared me."
He grins toothily at her. Twelve the other day, but he still looks too young for it, in the way that lots of tween boys do. "I'm sneaky."
"You'd make a good spy," Lily confirms, and scrunches up the hair on top of his head in her hand.
"You're leaving, though. I was right."
"How did you know?"
"I gave Thom a Turkish Delight. He told me."
"And how did he know?"
"Overheard it."
Lily tuts. "Little businessman, he is. A veritable capitalist."
"Ver-it-table. Cap-it-tist."
"Cap-it-al-ist."
"What does it mean?"
"Unfriendly," Lily replies. She puts an arm around him. "You'll be alright without me."
"It won't be the same," Mattias sighs. "The other Hogwarts kids don't like me. They say I'm a baby."
"What makes them think that?"
"Another day and I would've been in the year below," he sighs. "At my primary school they made fun of me for it too."
"Well," Lily says, "I think they're jealous of your youthful good-looks. Means you're far more spry than they are. They'll all be in zimmer frames and dentures by the time the war is over, and you'll be—"
"Out here fighting with you?"
"Maybe," Lily says, wincing. "Maybe. But we'll have to get you good at potionsmaking before that. Okay?"
Mattias nods eagerly. "Did you learn to do that at Hogwarts?"
"Of course. I learned everything at Hogwarts."
He blinks starry eyes at her. "Do you think I'll ever be able to go?"
"Maybe," Lily admits. She thinks fast, trying not to say the wrong thing. "If you do, you have to be a Gryffindor for me, okay? You brave boy."
He beams. "My mum would be proud if I was in the smart house, though. She always said I'm very smart."
"Gryffindors can be smart."
"Yeah, but you're not," he jabs.
Lily fakes outrage. "You little twat."
He laughs at that, and then the smile slides off his face. It always does that. He's never properly happy, not in any way that lasts. Not since Macmillan and the Friends dragged him off the train and out of the jaws of death this time last year.
"You're going to go get more kids like us aren't you?" he asks. "Not-magic kids."
Lily kneels down to look him right in the eye. "You are magic," she murmurs. "Very magic."
"You know. Kids with normal parents."
She laughs faintly and brushes a bit of hair behind his ear. "Yes," she says. "I am."
"Will you get hurt?"
"Maybe," Lily admits. "But I'm very smart. I think I'll be alright. Worry about yourself, okay?"
"Make sure you come back?"
"Always," she promises. "Come on. You should get to bed. How did you get out this late?"
"I climbed out of the window," Mattias says, yawning.
Lily stands up straight. "Go on. Tell whoever's on duty outside the doors that I sent you. They'll let you off."
Mattias nods. "G'night. I'll see you…"
"Soon," Lily promises. She holds her hand out and he shakes it hard, up and down, before turning around and walking back towards the sanctuary, looming like a large shadow through the trees. It's a heavy brick building with a mossy roof, fifteen windows wide, a few storeys tall, with narrow, dark windows set into the slanted attic that stare at you like black eyes through the treetops. It used to be a hospital during the war. Now it's abandoned, or so the muggles think.
She sighs and rubs her face. It feels like all she does lately is promise people that she won't die. It gets exhausting; the more you say something, the more you question yourself about whether it's really true. It haunts you. She hears her own voice in nightmares sometimes, promising James not to go to Germany and never come back.
And speaking of haunting things, lying things: there is a scream in the darkness.
Remus would have frozen, and James would have panicked; Lily hurls herself tight against the fence, hooking fingers through it. The cold hard mesh of it presses into her stomach. She stares into the night, famished, frozen and waiting.
Silence still. Then, another scream. "HELP!"
Lily glances over her shoulder. Already, dark figures are swarming through the open front doors of the sanctuary, back through the trees. Their shadows stretch far across the ground, dark strips. It'll take them too long to get here. Whoever it is, it might be dead by then.
"Fuck it," Lily murmurs to herself.
She claws her fingers through the diamond-shaped gaps in the fence and heaves her legs up in front of her, up against the fence. The wire rattles and clangs. She reaches one hand out higher and pulls her legs up further, fingers burning with it, the bones clicking click-click-click-click-click like doors groaning. The fence creaks and leans and she presses her weight to it, the iron cold against her cheek, before raising the other hand and hooking it over the top.
Straining and gasping, Lily heaves herself over. The top digs into her stomach in a sharp line of pain; she grunts and drops down to the ground on the other side, crouching low and listening.
Quiet. Then, through the trees, down the hill, a primal sort of shout, like something ripped from an animal.
Lily does not think, she does not look back, she hurtles like a wild thing into the underbrush. Her feet scuff over the dry leafy pit of an old ditch and she skids down it, throwing mud and dust out in front of her, then leaps clean over a fallen tree with arms pinwheeling and down, down, down the slope, grabbing a pine tree with both hands as she runs to kick off it, flying down through the darkness at a dizzying slope. Birds rise screeching from the trees around her; she feels like a monster, like a natural disaster.
Crunch. Lily twists her ankle and buckles, but not a moment later she finds her feet again, knees scuffing off-angled through the dirt. She does not stop moving. She runs and then falls again, smack smack down onto her knees and elbows.
Another cry in the woods somewhere, closer now, closer.
"Where are you?!" Lily raises her voice to shout.
"HERE!" comes the response, north. Down further, down, down. "PLEASE!"
She drags herself to her feet. The great maw of the forest looms dark below her, moonlight too dim to cast much of undergrowth into itself. She draws a deep breath and then another, and then jumps one foot after the other over a boulder — perhaps some old piece of rubble from the war — and skids on her heels down the slope, weight placed heavy against her knee joints, holding down the backs of them. Cold air screams across her face. Above, there is faint shouting, too far away to hear.
"HELP!"
Lily raises her arms to grab a branch overhead and uses it to swing clear over a heavy patch of nettles. She rises like smoke over the great gnarled mass of an old torn-up root system, buh-bam, one foot on it and a great leap from it, sending it rolling down the hill. She skids left, around two twisted-together trees, and towards a clearing, sitting pale and dusty in the faint light.
Then, she trips over the body.
Lily slams to a stop on her knees, panting. She peers back through the darkness at it, squinting.
Dark eyes meet hers there, sitting in the thick void. It's too dim to see who or what it is.
"Friend?" Lily asks cautiously. "Of the sanctuary."
"I'm dying," the stranger groans in reply. A woman, older. Strange accent. Something European. "Help me."
"We've got children in there."
"I would not have come if I wasn't a friend."
"You would be surprised," Lily mutters, and fumbles through the darkness until she has her hands on the stranger, on warm, heaving flesh, hot through clothing. She leaves them there, unmoving. She is holding death in her fingers. "Where?"
"I don't know what he cursed me with. My shoulder."
"Who was it?"
A faint groan. "I didn't know where else to do that he would not find me. Rumour has it he doesn't know this place."
Lily stills. She stares and stares until her eyes burn. "Who was it?" she asks again.
The stranger's hand clasps around her wrist. "Help me."
Lily grabs the hand and feels her way down it, fingers skittering a trail across the rough skin, mapping heavy wrinkles. She grabs the shoulder, digs a thumb into the hot bloody wound. "You won't bleed out."
"You would be surprised," the stranger replies, and groans with pain. "Oh, you psychopath."
Lily takes a deep breath. She presses her thumb in deeper. "And you promise me you'll tell me? Even… even if you don't tell them?"
It feels duplicitous. It feels hungry. The stranger's shallow breathing stutters and she laughs, choking. A dead sort of sound.
"Do you want to die? Promise me."
"I promise," she replies, chortling.
"Fine." Lily clears her throat and screams, up towards the sanctuary, against her better judgement, "HELP US! WE'RE HERE!"
My Dearest Clara,
I hope the date went well! Kissing behind the film theater et cetera et cetera et cetera. I'm sure you've already heard, but in the night (while on YOUR shift, thanks for that), I found a woman in the woods. Injured. Almost dead.
She's unconscious in the infirmary. I still have to get back to Britain by dawn, so I'm calling a favour with you, a real one. Keep an eye on her for me, okay? Make sure she's comfortable. I'll be back as soon as I can.
- Yours (tiredly), Lily
PS: here's your Mark back. A downpayment.
"You're late," Moody says the second she lands.
"It was your portkey, not mine," Lily replies, finding her feet. "Where am I?"
Moody looks up at her, scowling heavily. He's sitting on a low stool backed into the corner of the large warehouse Lily is standing in. The ground is coated with heavy black stones like lumps of coal and the ceiling is half translucent, light shining between gaps in the corrugated iron, making the whole place feel hazy and strange. The walls are made of stone brick and look very sturdy. It's freezing.
"Ten miles out of Bridgnorth," Moody says sharply. "You're the first to arrive."
"Late as it gets then," Lily replies. She wanders in a long circle through the warehouse, peering at the walls. When she reaches the door, the smell of summer greenery hits her. A bit rotten, overgrown. Pulpy with heat. Heavy, unkempt foliage lines the outside of the train tracks, which stretch south to north, still and unmoving. The metal catches the sun in bright yellow lines. Clouds obscure most of the sky, head-achingly bright white.
"We're boarding from here?" she asks.
Moody looks up at her. He's got his teeth snaggled into the skin of his upper lip. It gives him a sharkish sort of appearance.
"Yes," he says after a moment. "And getting off at a stop exactly ten minutes down the line. No emergency porkeys."
"Ten minutes isn't long enough."
"It's the only option we've got," Moody snaps. "You can go back to Rostock if you want, girl."
Lily glances at the floor, face heating a bit with embarrassment. She looks away and says nothing else. It's horribly awkward. Moody is one of those people she hopes she'll never have to see again after the war ends. He's got this horrible, oppressive energy to him. Like he'd bite your head off if he was hungry enough, chew right through your skull, 'til there was nothing left there.
She casts a glance at him. He's already looking back at his notes, a map spread out on his lap in front of him, a sneakoscope spinning on his knee.
"Aren't you going to ask a security question?" she asks.
He looks up at her and laughs a bit nastily. "No hair to steal for polyjuice. I can ask if you want, though."
"Go ahead."
"Your sister's name?"
"Petunia." Lily squints at him. "How would you know that?"
"I wouldn't," Moody replies darkly. "Be careful which questions you answer. Constant vigilance!"
"Ha," Lily murmurs. "That was good." And she steps out of the warehouse doors towards the track.
It is very silent, but for the very faint roar of a distant motorway, far away from here, probably close to Bridgnorth. There are no people around, not that she can see, and her eyesight is very good. Lily grapples a hand around a tree and uses it to pull herself up onto the tracks, standing on the metal ridge along the side. It's very still beneath her.
A bird chirps above. Lily looks up at it; a wren. She pulls her knife out of her pocket and gestures threateningly with it, in case it's an animagus. The bird chirps again and flutters off into the white sky.
"You're getting too paranoid," she tells herself, not believing it. With a heavy breath, she sits down on the tracks, then lies back, legs folded over one side, head rested against the metal on the other.
No vibration. Lily presses her ear to the ridge and listens. Very, very faintly, she can hear the metal grind with tension. But it's far away. They've got time. Not enough of it, and certainly not enough to spare, but enough that for now, she can breathe in that British smell and remember that she is alive.
There's a pop inside the warehouse. The air seems to go stiff with it for a moment.
"Alright, Moody?" a voice asks, sounding tired.
Lily sits bolt upright and listens, hands curling into the tracks.
"You're late," Moody repeats. She's getting the impression that he says that to most people when they see him. Perhaps just to put them on-edge.
"Oh, shut it," Dorcas replies.
"You haven't even told us why we're here."
And it's James' voice. James' stupid grumbling voice.
Lily is ashamed to admit it but she almost cries. Not twelve hours ago, she held a life in her hands and was sure she could have killed if she wanted to, was sure she could have commanded death like a hawk-heeler tames its beast. Now she thinks she would like to find a rug to roll herself up in.
"McGonagall was supposed to inform you," Moody snaps.
"Yeah, well, she's been busy."
"Apologies for the inconvenience then, Potter." A creak from the stool. "The last thing I said to you, Meadowes?"
"You told me there were five dead," Dorcas replies. "And more if I didn't hurry."
"And you, Potter?"
"Uh," James says. "Last week, passing through. You told me I should shower more."
"Aye. And I stand by it."
Dorcas clears her throat. "Are we the only ones here?"
"Your little friend's already gone to scope out the area."
"Friend?" James asks, sounding far too hopeful. There's the sound of his footsteps approaching.
Lily stands up and brushes herself off, turning around to face the warehouse. James comes into view in the doorway; he's got a dark bruise on his left cheek. Light refracts through a hairline crack in his glasses, casting a pale streak across the wrinkles of his crow's feet. His hair is still short, but not as short as hers. He looks like hammered shit.
He stares up at her. "Oh," he says. "It's you."
"Glad to see you too," Lily sighs. She slides down the slope from the tracks to the warehouse entrance and opens her arms. "Come here."
James seems not to want a hug — or perhaps not to want to want one — but he makes a miserable, inevitable sort of sound and shuffles in for a hug anyway. "You didn't write," he says into her shoulder.
Lily breathes in the smell of his hair, the smell of nature around them. She closes her eyes and imagines she might stay there for a while. "I didn't think it would help."
"Remus didn't write either."
"I know. He told me."
James stiffens. He seems to want to pull away but Lily doesn't let him.
"I hate you both," he says, and seems to mean it.
Lily pats the back of his head with a half-cupped palm. She could hold the moon in her hands if she wasn't so busy holding him. "I missed you," she murmurs in his ear, and means it.
"Is Remus coming?"
"Yeah."
James does pull away then. "They didn't tell us," he says again. "About this."
"They didn't tell us either, not in words. Not 'til a week ago, when the portkeys arrived," Lily replies. "But Remus and I figured it was coming. The Friends aren't around to do it anymore. We figured we'd inherit the responsibility."
"Gambit's still alive," James replies. "And in fighting shape."
"Jeremiah's not," Dorcas puts in, stepping into the light. She leans against the doorway. "Lily."
"Dorcas," Lily says. She steps around James to hug her. Dorcas does not hug her back, but Lily gets the impression that she would if she could.
All too soon, they separate. Dorcas nods to her. The scar on her lip flexes as she smiles. "You look well."
"I've been surviving," Lily says. She glances down at her hands. There's still blood under her fingernails from the night. She shoves them in her pockets. "How have you two been, since…?"
Evidently it was the wrong thing to bring up. James seems to shutter into himself, looking away. His shoulders curl. He looks like he'd like very much to disappear.
Dorcas looks right into Lily's eyes and says, "Fine."
"I see," Lily replies hesitantly. "Are you sure you don't want a hug?"
Dorcas shakes her hands out, like there's taut muscles in them. "I'm alright," she promises. "Thank you, though. What's it like in Rostock?"
"Hectic. We harbour more refugees every day."
"It's good work you're doing."
"We'll end up full soon," Lily replies. "We've got warders coming soon to expand the inside. And avoiding GDR officials is hard enough as it is."
"Be careful of warders," James puts in. "The Order got scammed when they tried to expand."
"Guess it's pretty crowded in HQ then?" Lily asks.
"We sleep in a storage cupboard, practically," Dorcas says, with so-be-it mundanity. "You're not missing much."
"I didn't think I was," Lily assures, and then realises that that probably sounds a bit mean. She reaches out to loop an arm through James'. "Do you know who else is coming?"
"No," Dorcas sighs. "Caradoc shoved a portkey into our hands and then we were here."
"The Order's just as organised as ever, then?"
James squeezes her arm tight to his side. "Most of the Order are dealing with… with the fire in Newhaven, actually." He coughs. "I don't think there'll be many of us."
"Ah." Lily stares from him to Dorcas. "What's up with that whole… thing?"
"Someone started a fiendfyre in Newhaven," Dorcas sighs. "It's eaten up half of the East Sussex countryside now. The muggles have managed to keep it from chewing up any towns, but they can't get rid of it."
"And the death eaters are letting it burn!" James blurts, face very dark. "We can't even go help, they'll pick us off like… like…"
"Fish in a barrel?" Dorcas offers.
"Sitting ducks?" Lily recommends.
"Flies," James finishes.
"So we're mixing metaphors," Lily sighs.
"I don't know what that means. Listen." He makes a sound of frustration. "Can we not talk about Newhaven? It's… stressful."
Dorcas laughs very quietly.
Lily shakes her head. "Everything's stressful right now," she sighs. "Not in the least including the state of you. Have you washed your face since I left Britain? Once?"
James has the good grace to look bashful, rubbing the back of his hand over his pimply cheek. "It's been a shit few weeks," he sighs. "Forgive me for not having that sort of thing sorted out."
Inside the warehouse, there's a faint pop. James goes perfectly still.
"Alright Moody?" Remus' voice asks.
James lurches out of the doorway and behind the outer wall, out of sight. He stares at Lily with big eyes. Lily stares right back, unsure of what to say.
"The last thing I said to you?" Moody asks, rather more gruffly than he asked James and Dorcas.
Remus clears his throat. "Little Hangleton, wasn't it? You told me to get out of everyone's way. And I did."
Moody huffs. "You look terrible. If you fuck this up, you know you're cut off."
"I'm mostly cut off anyway," Remus sighs. "There's nothing out there."
Moody says nothing to that.
Lily decides she should be the brave one. She lets go of James and peers around the doorway. "Remus?"
Remus looks up at her from the middle of the warehouse. His amber eyes look a bit wild and his hair has grown out and gone all floppy in the front, falling into his face. He's lost weight and looks very tired, holding himself like he's got a lot of aches. He's in a big dark canvas jacket, with his hands tucked into the pockets, and it makes him look small and unsure.
He cracks a smile. "Hey, Lils."
Lily runs over, though she hugs him slow and gentle, winding her arms through his, gripping the back of the coat. Remus keeps his hands in his pockets for a moment before sighing and pulling one out to pat her on the back, rubbing a light circle there.
"I'm glad you're alive," he says in her ear.
Lily nods against his shoulder. "You too." She clears her throat and whispers, "He's here."
Remus goes still for a moment. "Outside?" he murmurs.
"Waiting for you."
"Ah. Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to go off myself."
Lily laughs faintly, not much heart in it. "He's not angry. Just sad."
"That's worse. You know that's worse."
She pulls away and tilts her head towards the door. "You can't run from it."
"I'm good at running," Remus warns.
That makes Lily quite sad. "Go," she murmurs.
Remus nods. He wanders out into the sunlight and Lily follows him.
James stares at the ground, appearing not to want to look at Remus. They stand like that for a while, the two of them, neither speaking.
"This isn't…" Remus starts. "I'm not…"
"Don't," James says faintly.
Remus takes a step forwards but Dorcas gets in the way, standing in front of James.
"Back off," she snaps. "He doesn't want to talk."
"It's okay," James sighs. He runs a hand over his mouth and looks up at Remus then. They make eye contact. The rest of the world seems to go away as they scan each other's faces.
"James," Remus starts.
James raises a hand. "I'm not angry," he says.
"Yes you are," Remus replies.
"I am," James admits. "It's been a crap few months. Mary died."
"I heard." Remus chews his lip and blinks furiously. He looks very young at that moment.
"How's Wales?"
"It's shit." Remus smiles a wobbly smile. "I've been alright."
"No close calls?"
"None. I've been fine."
James nods. He moves past Dorcas to give Remus a very quick, very stiff hug, before letting go and stepping behind her again, wrapping his arms around himself tightly.
"This is shit," he mutters. "When are we moving?"
Remus looks like his whole world has just come crashing down. Lily would like to go to him, but she thinks it would upset James even more.
Dorcas taps her foot on the ground, standing firm between James and Remus. "It won't be long now. Is it just us?"
"It was just four last year," Lily puts in. "Is it enough?"
Moody clunks towards them, over the black stones. His wooden leg crunches the gravel into the cold earth. "We're supposed to have five," he snaps.
"Mary died," James says dully.
Moody squints at him. "I see. Four it'll be."
"How fitting," Lily mutters.
Moody hands out small, dark pouches. "Peruvian darkness powder," he says. "It won't be a stealth mission. Get in, section off the kids you need. Use force if you have to. Don't be afraid to make a scene, you're all wanted anyway, especially you, Potter. Get out, jump from the train roof onto the rooftop of our next warehouse along. Don't miss it."
"Jump?!" James says, alarmed.
All he gets for his trouble is a very sharp look. "You're all armed?"
Remus pulls out the revolver, charmed full of bullets. It looks foreign in his large hands. James whips a baseball bat off his back and holds it tight. Lily pulls out a knife. Dorcas flexes her fingers out in front of her and says, "I'll be fine."
"Suit yourself," Moody says. "Weapons away. For now."
They all put their assets away. Moody gestures for them all to hold out their hands and slaps a sticky, bright yellow goop onto each of their palms.
"Ew," Dorcas mutters.
"What is this?" Remus asks.
"It's Erkling blood," Lily puts in, before Moody can answer. "It's an, uh, adhesive." She glances up at him. "To help us get onto the top of the train."
Moody nods his head at her once. "It won't stay on for long. You'll have to be quick."
"We can do quick," James says, without his familiar ease. He looks very grim. "We'll get as many off as we can."
Dorcas speaks up from beside him. "You're sure they won't be expecting us?"
"They'll be expecting you," Moody says grimly. "But they won't have good security. Most of his folks are too busy to stop you from picking off a few firsties."
"Busy doing what?" Remus asks.
Lily clears her dry throat. "In Europe," she says. "They're expanding. They've started in France already, and they're going to hit Germany in the next few months, we think. It's been peaceful so far, but it won't be for long."
"Is that what the arson attacks have been about?" James asks.
"Arson attacks?" Dorcas inhales.
James turns to her, nodding. "Overheard McGonagall talking about it. Someone's been running around burning down Pureblood estates in Europe-"
Moody claps his hands with a crack so loud they all jump. "Focus."
James grimaces, straightening his glasses with the inside of his wrist to avoid touching his face with the sticky yellow slime. "Sorry."
"The train passes through in…" Moody glances at his pocket watch. "Five minutes. The back carriage has no windows. You'll be climbing onto that one. Stay low until it passes through. They'll be watching." He looks between them all, scanning them, eyes so wide they look wild. "Ten minutes. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," they all mumble.
Moody nods. Then, he turns and treks back into the warehouse. There is silence, and then the faint popping sound of a portkey activating.
"Oh shit," Dorcas murmurs. "We're… alone."
Silence hovers between them all, a great wall.
"Last chance to back out," Lily jokes without mirth. "Come on."
They all shuffle up to the foliage near the tracks, goopy hands held out in front of them like an odd ritual. James shuffles furthest from Remus, who sits on Lily's side, who sits next to Dorcas. The girls squished into the middle, the boys on the outside. They duck their heads under the heavy greenery so as not to be seen. They press too close together, all of them, and Lily can smell London and Rostock and Merthyr and the midlands all at the same time; they are one human culture clash, they are a testament to abandonment.
Faintly, with a low whining, the tracks begin to vibrate against the ground.
"Not long now," Lily murmurs, mostly to fill the quiet. She nudges her shoulder against Remus. "You're really going to use that gun?"
"Not if I can help it," Remus replies. Then, a bit lamely, "It's loud. Kids don't like loud noises."
"So that'll help us coralle them," Lily contends, then winces. "Not… not in a scary way."
Dorcas laughs wryly. "You think we can fight in a war and not be scary?"
"I don't think any of you are scary," James grunts.
"And debating ethics isn't making us any more intimidating," Remus remarks.
Lily scrapes a thumbnail under her knuckle to dislodge a bit of dry blood. "Good. Not-intimidating is what we're going for, remember?"
"I agree with James. I don't think any of us have to put in an effort for not-intimidating," Dorcas says.
"Hey, I didn't include myself," James protests. "I inflict fear wherever I go. My enemies quiver at the sight of me."
Dorcas laughs. "You inflict mild body odor. A lesser-known hex, but very affective."
"It's 'effective'," Remus corrects.
"I know, I just said it was."
"Don't you start complaining about me either, Moony," James says, before seeming to remember he's meant to be ignoring him and looking away with a frown.
"I wasn't!" Remus protests. "It was a grammar thing. You'd learn it at school."
"I didn't know you went to a grammar school, Remus," Lily says while not paying any attention at all, staring at the tracks. Nothing yet. But soon.
"No, they don't have those in Wales. And we grew up broke."
"'Broke' is slang. It's ungrammatical," Dorcas grumbles.
James leans close to her and whispers, loud enough that they can all hear it, "You're not being subtle about not liking Remus, you know."
Remus snorts, not quite a laugh; perhaps an aborted sigh; there are almost tears in it.
Lily clears her throat loudly. "I can see it."
They all lean out to watch the tracks. The tiny red dot of the approaching train looms down the tracks, too far to make out any details but its colour, the colour of a nightmare. Birds scatter from the trees as it cuts through the forest, abysmally loud. Bloody industrial revolution technology. Lily really hates muggles sometimes.
"Okay," she murmurs. "Nobody move until it's almost all the way gone. Then we…"
She trails off, unsure.
"We'll figure it out on the way," Dorcas finishes.
"On the way from here to there?" Remus asks, gesturing from where they're sitting to the tracks two feet away.
"Yeah."
"Right." He looks down at the ground. Lily knows what he's thinking without having to look at him; that he's very tired of having other people elect to risk his own life for him.
James shuffles, leaves cracking under him. "Just like old times," he murmurs, jacket creaking around him.
"Just like old times," Lily agrees. The train chugs closer. Fifty feet away. Fourty. Thirty. She draws a long breath and lets it out through her nose, flaring her nostrils. "This time," she advises, "aim for the eyes."
She hears rather than sees James nod. The sound of the train becomes deafening; its red-gold front plate descends towards them, large and larger and then whistling past. The drivers' carriage rattles over them and they all duck their heads low. The sun has come out in patches and it reflects brightness down over them from the windows, flashing in the daylight. Lily keeps her head low, only chancing a glance up for a moment. She just prays some nosy Pureblood isn't peering out of the window at the wrong moment.
"Ten minutes," she murmurs, and pushes herself up into a low crouch. Carriages flash by in a red-gold blur. "Get ready."
Dorcas elbows her, hands hovering palm-up in front of her. "How long?"
"Five," Lily says. "Four. Three-"
The final carriage screams up alongside them; the world seems to slow.
"One!" Lily shouts, and lunges in a blur across the grass, throwing her hands against the side of the train.
And they stick hard. The impact whisks her off her feet, jarring one of her ankles. One moment Lily is on solid ground and the next she is pressed hard to the metal side of the train, feet dangling, wind screaming over her face. She bends her elbows tight outwards, shouting out once with the fierce pain of it, and then wrenches one hand loose from the metal plating and hurls it over the top of the carriage to pull herself up on top.
She'll be ashamed of it later, but not for a moment does she look back; she forgets Dorcas, James and Remus are even there. All that exists then, clinging to the ledge atop the carriage, body hanging over open air, is Lily and the wind. Lily and the beating of her own heart, hard enough that she thinks it must be audible inside the carriage, pounding though the metal. Lily and the earth below her, how Icarus must have seen the world before he fell.
"Shit!" Lily grunts, and rolls over onto the top of the carriage.
She lies there gasping for a moment, looking up into the pearly sky. The wind tears through her clothing. You're alive. You are alive. Be this the whetstone of your sword.
"A little help?!" Dorcas' voice calls from below.
"Oh!" Lily shouts. She sits upright and the wind threatens to bowl her over. She presses into it, threatens to tear it wide open, and then she rolls over and throws an arm over the side to grab Dorcas by the wrist, pulling her up.
Dorcas clings to her arm, their wrists pressed together, her feet scrabbling across the metal side. Her jacket buffets in the wind, mourning draperies. Her wide eyes meet Lily's and Lily hauls her up atop the train; they collapse together, panting, gasping.
A hand comes over the side, pale and scarred and thick with goop. Remus makes a pained, distant sound from below.
"Remus?!" Lily calls, as Dorcas rolls off her.
"Help me-!" he grunts, almost a shout.
Lily crawls to the edge. The rushing wind threads through her clothes - below, Remus is clinging on by one hand, his other holding James, whose feet are planted on a plate of metal right over the spinning wheels, his heels inches from the ground.
"Oh, fuck off," Lily sighs. She grabs Remus by the arm and pulls hard. Dorcas puts her arms around Lily's waist and pulls too.
As one, they haul James and Remus onto the roof of the carriage. There they all lie in a gasping, breathy heap for a few seconds, collapsed atop one another, limbs tangled in tight sailors knots as if they will drag each other to sea.
"This was a terrible idea," Remus wheezes.
"Someone definitely heard that," Dorcas adds.
Lily heaves herself away from their great mass. She hacks up a glop of spit onto her hands. "Water dislodges it," she says, rubbing them together, picking off the yellow sludge. "Quickly. Nine minutes, by now."
They all spit on and rub at their hands for a few scarce moments. The clock is ticking.
"Okay, fuck it," Lily says. She crawls over James and Remus and right to the back end of the carriage, peering precariously over the back.
There's a narrow metal ledge down there, a thin alcove. Big enough to stand on. Lily turns to crouch on the edge of the carriage rooftop, hands grasped around its rim, facing Dorcas, James and Remus.
"What are you going to do?" Remus asks.
Lily tightens her jaw. She palms one of her knives, clutching it tightly. "Follow me. Okay? I can't hold them off on my own, not for long."
James shuffles up into a crouch, swinging the bat from his shoulders. "You know I'd follow you anywhere," he says, with achingly familiar cheer.
Lily rolls her eyes. Then, she swings her legs back off the ledge behind her- she dangles for one terrifying moment in empty space- the wind whistles through her, she drops down with only the grip of her arms keeping her from the ground- she hurtles both feet into the carriage's back door in one great swinging motion which breaks it off its hinges and carries her sailing inside.
The door hits the floor with a clang. Lily goes staggering into the darkness of the carriage, blinking in the new light. The metal shudders under her. She steps off.
There are three seventh-years inside, smoking joints. They all stare.
"Hello," Lily greets, shaking out her twisted ankle, still aching from this morning.
"Who are you?" one of them asks, not looking very alarmed.
Lily raises her knife. Eight and a half. "You can stay here voluntarily, or I can make you."
They all glance at one another. They're still in muggle clothes; she can't tell which house they're in. Not Slytherin, by the lack of recognition. If they were proto-death eaters, they would've squealed by now.
"Uh, sure, man," one of them says. "Whatever."
James hurtles through the smashed-in entryway, brandishing his bat wildly. His boots clang on the fallen door. He stares, slowing down. "You've got it under control."
"Think so," Lily says mildly.
Remus drops down onto the ledge, then Dorcas, and they both shuffle inside. The seventh-years watch them in stunned silence.
"Stay here and smoke," Remus recommends, as the four of them head for the door into the next carriage. Dorcas grabs one of their blunts on the way past, takes a huff, then plants it back in the guy's hand. She shakes out her hands into fists, raising them in front of her.
Lily peers through the small window into the next carriage. It's one of the communal ones, stuffed with rows of chairs. A dozen or so students in there.
"Alright," she says. "Remus, you're up."
"I don't want to do this," Remus sighs, clicking the safety off his gun.
"Eight minutes," Lily warns.
Remus kicks the door down and fires three shots into the ceiling.
Immediately, there are screams. Dust rains from the ceiling. There is the sound of metal screeching. Kids dive down to hide under their chairs, shouting, arms over their heads. In the din, there is the distant sound of a caterwauling alarm.
Lily reaches into her pocket and pulls out her pouch of Peruvian darkness powder. She opens it and tosses the contents into the air, where they shimmer briefly, spun sugar, before expanding.
The world goes dark, all the light from the windows snuffed out. Lily grabs Dorcas. They stagger through the blackness together, tripping over something on the floor. A trunk or a body.
"Help!" she hears someone scream in the darkness. "Help me!" Friend or foe, Lily can't tell.
The dark begins to dissipate. Someone hurtles down the carriage towards them; a spell flies past Lily's ear.
James shoves by her. He hurls his bat in an underarm swing right into the death eater's chin. With an awful crack, his jaw breaks. The man howls. Spots of light through the bullet holes in the ceiling illuminate him as he collapses against a row of seats.
James raises the bat and cracks it with both hands around in a great arc into the side of his head. The death eater slumps, bloody. Still.
"Alright!" James raises his voice to shout. "It's your friendly neighbourhood runaway blood traitors here! Anyone who reckons they'll die if they stay on this train, speak now or forever hold your piece!"
There is movement in the darkness. Lily wafts a hand through it and the last of the powder hangs like dust on the air before her, swirling through her fingers.
"Nobody?!" James calls.
A young boy staggers from under a seat. He finds his way shakily to his feet, holding both hands up in front of him. "Someone- someone warned me," he says. "On the platform."
"Are your parents magical?"
"Uh, no, sir."
James claps his free hand on the boy's shoulder. "Come along then. You're safe with us."
"Seven minutes," Lily calls. "Let's move!"
Remus advances on the next carriage. He crashes in and most of the people inside are already curled under their seats. He fires three bullets through a window anyway, maybe just to announce his presence.
"Muggleborns!" he shouts. "Unless you want to die-"
A guard hurtles out from behind a seat, roaring. Pale with dark hair and a wide face. Remus dives to the floor and a red curse hits the wall and ricochets out of the broken window. Behind Lily, she hears James shout.
Dorcas pushes past her and marches right up to the death eater, fearless. She winds up and punches him right in the nose.
"I've been waiting for that," she spits, and punches him again, and then again. He crashes against the side of a row of seats and Dorcas stamps her boot down on his leg like she could snap it, like he's a twig.
The guard howls with pain. He raises his wand. "Crucio-"
Dorcas dodges the curse by an inch. She takes his wand from him, cracks it over her knee and shoves one of the halves up his nose so hard he snorts out blood.
"You'll never hurt another kid again," she promises him, and cracks his head against a table.
Remus grabs her by the arm, pulling himself to his feet. "Six minutes," he groans. "Go, go, go."
James shoves in, the muggleborn kid from the first carriage tucked under his arm. "We're all still alive?"
"Just about," Lily says. She raises her voice to shout it again. "Last call for muggleborns! We're going to get you on a one-way trip to a sanctuary!"
A handful of kids clamber over the seats towards them. Three in total. James ushers them towards himself, cooing, asking questions, making jokes.
"We can do our own sorting if you want, once we get to Rostock!" Lily hears him tell them. "Just us. You look like a Gryffindor, you do. Brave and strong like us."
"Go," Lily says. "Come on."
The next carriage along is composed of individual compartments, all of their doors shut. Remus strides down the aisle, pounding an ebow into each, hard enough to rattle them.
"Muggleborns!" he shouts. "Muggleborns, this is your final call!"
Lily peers into each compartment. Mostly empty. There are a few occupied, with students crouched beneath the tables.
A kid comes hurtling out of one. "Please!" she screams. "They said they would kill me-"
Lily grabs her by the shoulders, very tight. "You'll be fine," she promises. "James!"
James takes the girl's arm, grinning, false. "You mind taking care of the kids for a second Lils?" he asks, shockingly calm.
"Sure," Liy says cautiously. "Why-"
James gestures up the carriage. Lily turns to look and all sound seems to leave the air.
There's a death eater behind Remus, holding him by the upper arm like a human shield. He's got the tip of his wand digging into the side of Remus' neck and Remus is deadly still, staring at James and only James.
"Potter," the death eater spits. He's got this low, raspy, horrible voice. Authoritarian. "Closer now. Slowly."
James steps in front of the kids, who Lily ushers behind her. He takes three long steps up the carriage towards them.
"Let him go," he says. "And I'll come with you."
The death eater chuckles. "I'll be a war hero for this," he says, and presses the wand deeper into the side of Remus' throat.
Remus makes a choking noise. "Five minutes," he gasps.
"Let him go," James repeats. He tightens his grip on his bat. "Remus."
They seem to have a long, silent conversation, the two of them. Remus' face fills with anger and hate, and something devastated. Then he shakes his head violently.
"Remus," James says lowly. "Do it."
A pause. Remus takes a deep breath and Lily sees that look on his face again; he is bartering with his own life, he is not holding the cards. Then, he slides his gun out of his sleeve and fires down into the death eater's foot.
James swarms forward, a thundercloud. He catches Remus as he falls and throws him back down the aisle at Lily and then just starts fucking wailing on the death eater on the ground, hurtling his bat down into the guy's chest. Crunch crunch crunch.
Lily turns to the kids and kneels down to their level, shielding their view. She thinks fast, glancing in the compartment beside them. "We're going to stay in here, okay?" she says brightly. "Until we can get off the train."
Dorcas opens the door and ushers the kids inside, who all look terrified.
Down the hallway, Lily hears Remus say, "James! Merlin, James, stop!"
"Fuck you!" James howls, and the sound of the beating stops. He coughs, seeming to gather himself. "Fuck. Four minutes."
"We're running out of time," Lily says grimly. "Go. Go. Go."
James and Remus exchange looks. "Coming?" Remus asks.
Inside the carriage, Dorcas looks back at her. "I'll protect them," she says with fierce conviction.
"Okay," Lily says. "Get them onto the roof." Then, she turns and hurries to James and Remus. "Let's cause some shit."
James steps over the death eater's body. He wipes the blood on his bat off against the leg of his jeans.
"Christ," he mutters. Then, "Clock's ticking. We should start running."
They burst into the next compartment, which yields nothing, and then the next. Lily fends off a violent pack of Slytherin sixth-years with her knife and a snarl while James and Remus rescue two more muggleborn firsties from the next carriage down, trying to keep them calm as Lily screams profanities at the bastards, waving her bade in their faces to keep them back.
By the time they reach the front of the train, they are five death eaters down, with four more kids to show for it. James says, "I'll take them back, get them on the roof. Check the last few compartments."
Remus and Lily nod. James runs off down the hallway, a gaggle of tiny firsties following him like ducklings. It's almost cute except he just murdered someone which is less cute, Lily feels a bit hysterical, she feels like she might pass out. The world spins. Slow-dancing.
Remus grabs her shoulder with a steadying hand, shakes her, lets her go. He pokes through the last dozen compartments on his own.
"There are so many less kids than there used to be," he says. "One and a half minutes."
"We'll make it what it was again," Lily promises, and slaps herself hard across the face to keep herself grounded. "We'll make it better."
Remus shoots her a surprised look. Then he grins, soft and genuine.
"Yeah," he agrees. "Now come on."
They sprint all the way back to their temporary home base, the carriage with the death eater's body in the doorway, propping the door open a bit. Remus steps over it and offers Lily a hand. She takes it because she feels like it is not a hand he's offered her but an olive branch. She has a headache that could kill gods, pounding hot through her skull.
"We'll go out of the window in there," Remus instructs. "A minute."
"You're good at this time stuff."
He shrugs. "Used to count the minutes on moons. It's all I remember of them."
Lily steps around the doorway into the compartment and freezes, dead still.
"Oh fuck," she breathes.
"What?" Remus asks, reaching her side. Then he stills too.
The compartment is empty, all the kids already on the roof, except for James on one end and Peter Pettigrew on the other. They're staring at each other. Peter has his wand out and James is staring like an idiot, not moving. The world feels frozen in place, a still-life painting. The sunlight streaming through the window fades and dies with the passing of a white cloud outside.
"Peter," Remus whispers.
Lily doesn't stop to think. She steps forwards and wrangles the bat out of James' hands, pointing it at Peter, who is blocking the window
"Move," she snaps.
"Lily!" James protests. "He's not stopping us-"
"Thirty seconds," Lily spits. "Is Dorcas up there?"
James nods, a bit frantic. "Ready to help them make the jump."
Peter's wide eyes flicker between their faces. "You can't- you-" He doesn't seem to know what to say.
Lily grabs him by the shoulder. Very firmly, she moves him out of the way of the window.
"Unless you're coming with us, get out of our way. James," she instructs. "Up."
James is staring at Peter with this awful guilty look on his face. "Peter, I'm so sorry-"
Lily grabs him by the front of his robes. "I don't want to die here!" she shouts in his face, and in a hysteria, stronger than she feels, she throws him towards the window with enough force that he slams into it, rattles it.
Wide-eyed, James casts one last look at Peter and hooks his hands around the window ledge, clambering out and up to the roof with his clothes blustering in the wind. His feet disappear past the top of the window and he's gone, out into the open air.
"We've got no time," Remus murmurs. "Come with us, Pete. Come with us."
Peter just stares. His mouth works but he makes no sound.
"Peter," Remus pleads. "Peter, please."
"He's not coming," Lily snaps. And before either of them can say anything, "Remus, GO!"
Remus puts his face into his hands and shouts, once, into his palms. It's a terrible, agonised sound, like he has put every terrible thought he's ever had into it. Then he strides to the window, not looking back as he hauls himself out into the sunlight. He pulls himself onto the roof; James hand closes around his and pulls him up. He disappears.
"Sorry," Lily says. She hesitates, wanting to say more, unable to think.
Peter stares at her. "Sorry," he whispers back.
Lily nods to him. She follows Remus, leaving Peter standing there with his hands just a bit out in front of him, half-reaching. Still.
Just in time. The warehouse sits stoney and dark alongside the train tracks up ahead, growing closer by the second. James and Remus help Lily up onto the roof and she stands between them and feels them both shake against her shoulders. Cold air whips around them. The train rattles beneath their feet.
The kids are clustered on the roof of the next carriage with Dorcas. She nods to them all and then says to the kids, "When the rooftop gets closer, I need you to jump for me, okay? I need you to jump. It's only a foot across. I'll go with you. I promise it's going to be okay. It's going to be okay."
Lily takes James' hand in her own, Remus' in the other. "I'm sorry," she murmurs.
Neither of them seems able to speak. When she looks left and right at them, they look haunted, both of them, staring off the side of the train into the rushing green overgrowth below. Minds faraway.
"Shit," James murmurs. "Oh, Remus."
The rooftop swings up alongside them; the foliage gives way to cement grey. Overhead, the white sky seems to lurch. Lily takes a step back and does not let go of their hands as she jumps.
Perhaps not all the trust they built is gone; they both jump with her.
She lands hard on her feet, then falls to her knees, gasping with pain as gravel scuffs her shins. Remus rolls with the impact at her side, and James hits the ground on his side, swearing furiously.
"The kids okay?!" he raises his voice to call to Dorcas.
A pause. "Nothing broken!" she shouts back, from a pile of kids on the edge of the roof ten feet away.
"Well thank Merlin for that," James says. He sits up, brushing gravel out of his hair. He's crying, Lily notices. None of it has entered his voice, but he's crying, great fat tears running down his cheeks. Not shaking with it, not sobbing. Just crying, like quiet rain at night. She has never known him to be so inexpressive before when upset.
Remus sits up, wincing and clutching at his back, where something must have jarred. He looks hollow. Nothing in there.
"Are you okay?" he asks Lily, not seeming to be in search of an answer.
Lily nods, wincing. She shoves her knife, unbloodied (she has not killed today; she has to keep reminding herself of it. She has not killed today, she did not take a life), back into her pocket and stares after the train.
And then James grabs her arm. Hard.
"Oh Merlin," he whispers. "Look." And he points.
The red Hogwarts Express is already a distant streak, slipping farther away with each moment. But as Lily squints (and her eyesight is very good), she thinks she can see it; and yes, she can; Peter is halfway out of the window, hanging out over the flashing world below him. Waving frantically, precariously. As if to say, come back for me. Don't go.
The train whips around a corner and out of sight.
My Dearest James,
I'm sorry about what h
Do you think we might be able to get Peter from Hogw
Are you angry with m
I don't know why I did that but I
Sorry
I hope we see each other again soon. Write to me in Rostock, okay?
Yours (regretfully), Lily