Chapter 14:

Distortions

Lily Evans leaned over the cauldron, the hot steam warming her face, and took a deep breath of its stringent fumes. It smelled like a mix of chlorine and sulfur, and had continued to become stronger each day it ripened. It was a good sign, and Lily took another breath of it, needing to enjoy this small moment of success. Today was a feeding day, and she dutifully added in the carefully measured Thestral Scales. They were mostly dissolved now, and the potion had become a glossy black.

Lily had been surprised when Hestia asked her to take her shift with Percy. She hadn't realized the attack on St. Mungos had only been two days ago. Time stopped making sense to her since the attack, but she kept her sanity by measuring the successes: Dorcas regaining consciousness and croaking out, "Tis only a flesh wound," about her injury; James handing her a surviving flask of the poison, cracked, but whole, scavenged from the wreckage; the leering skull of the Dark Mark gradually fading to a dark stain above St. Mungos.

True, the poison was utterly useless. It had changed from the vivid blood red to a muddy brown due to the heat of the explosion. And the fading dark mark didn't change what it represented: death. She had been the one to lie to Johanthan Well's family, telling them as calmly as possible, that he had died from an expected heart attack, due to the stress of his allergic reaction. Better the lie, then the truth that he had been mutilated. Fortunately, Lily wasn't the healer who was tasked with transfiguring his corpse to hide the wounds from his family. She'd also avoided visiting Edith. She was staying on the spell damage floor—Lily's floor—under the guard of Hit Wizards while she awaited her trial. Dumbledore told her that Edith had been under the Imperius Curse, and would likely not be committed to Azkaban, but would, in all probability, be banned from magical medicine. The Auror's dug out and found what they could of what remained of Erwood. His funeral would be held over the weekend.

Lily stood up and stretched her limbs, suddenly desperate for something to distract herself with, and her eyes landed on the pensieve sitting on a side table by James's chair, glowing softly. She found herself walking over to it. Gently, she traced the glowing runes along the stone basin—it had been a while since her Ancient Runes class, but one in particular looked familiar: three small, diamond shapes bisected by a line. She turned the edge, looking to see if it repeated, and the motion rippled across the surface of the basin. Lily hardly noticed it until she heard a voice. A painfully familiar voice.

"In Lily's letters, her favorite title for you was 'bullying toerag.' I think that started in her fourth year."

Heart thudding, Lily turned and saw a silvery figure slowly revolving on top of the misty substance of the basin, drifting almost like a leaf caught in a current. The figure's hair was tied back with a patterned scarf, a striped apron tied around their neck and waist. Though the image was drained of color, Lily knew what color the figure's eyes should've been, as they bored into hers, briefly, before moving on with the current: green, the same deep shade as her own. Lily's chest tightened. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Logically, she knew that this phantom wasn't truly real; it was just an echo, a memory— but all she wanted was to hear her mother's voice again, to look at her and see recognition and love staring back. "Things are complicated between Lily and Petunia. And Vernon doesn't help. I'm hoping that with Lily living here for a while, the two can get reacquainted with each other and patch things up," her mother paused again, looking off to the side at something Lily couldn't see. "Thinking about it, I'm surprised it's actually taken the whole seven years for you to finally turn up here. We've had our suspicions for a while— even when she called you a bullying toerag. But again, this is Lily we're talking about. She's a stubborn thing," the figure finally glanced up at Lily once more, smiling affectionately, before sinking back down into the swirling mist below. Lily reacted without thought, the desperate need to see her mother alive again driving away any hesitation. She grabbed the edge of the basin, and thrust her face into it, eyes wide against the startling cold liquid.

It felt a bit like taking a portkey: the world rushed darkly around her, her body feeling simultaneously compressed and stretched, and then in a second everything snapped into focus: grey brick, bright, blue door. Home. Tentatively, she grabbed the doorknob and was somewhat relieved to find it solid beneath her touch. She wasn't like a ghost then, in this world. She tried to twist the handle, but it remained stiff, frozen in place. Glancing around, she looked for James Potter. Shouldn't he be here? Wasn't this his memory? But the only people on the street were her kid neighbors, kicking a football dangerously close to her father's vegetable garden. She almost expected to see him there—dorky gardening hat, pursed lips—awkwardly preparing to defend his image made her positively ache for her parents. She could hear the soft murmur of voices from her house, see light coming from the cracks in the window blinds—but she was stuck.

Angrily, she tried to pick up the large decorative vase sitting by the door (intending to throw it at the door or a window), but found it fused to the floor, as if with a sticking charm. Lily screamed, frustrated that no one would hear her, that this is what life truly was recently: James returned, but engaged and traumatized; the poison salvaged from the wreckage, but useless and ruined; Edith alive after the attack, but banned from medicine forever and with blood on her hands; and now this miracle: she returned to the past, but couldn't even open a door to see her own mother. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, trying to regain her composure. When she opened them, she flinched, but of course, it didn't matter. James Potter stood next to her, entirely oblivious of her outburst, stuffing a silvery fabric into the surprisingly deep pockets of his trousers—his invisibility cloak.

When he finished stowing the cloak, he knocked on the door. James waited and ran a hand through his messy hair, ruffling it even more. The action made her stomach lurch: this was her James. Young, skinny, slightly arrogant, and always full of energy.

The door opened, James quickly removed his hand from his hair, and Lily suddenly found herself in front of her father. With his rigidly trimmed, thin mustache, he looked young despite the fact that his red hair had started to grey at the temples. He didn't see her, and though she had known he wouldn't be able to see her, it still hurt a little. His focus was on James, taking in his appearance in a measuring way, before saying in a clipped tone:

"James, is it?"

"Yes, sir," James said, holding out his hand. Mr. Evans shook it in a formal, firm grip before slightly moving out of the way, causing James to awkwardly edge into the home. "Oh, I, er, got you something," James said, fumbling for something in his pocket. He pulled out his wand, and then dug into his other pocket and pulled out something small that Lily couldn't make out. He tapped the something small with his wand, muttering a spell, and the something shot up into a potted plant two hand span's tall. Its long stems swayed as if in a breeze, its purple flowers fluttering open and closed. "It's called a flutterby bush, Mr. Evans," James said, passing the quivering plant to her father.

"It's lovely," her father said, his posture relaxing from the stiff, militaristic set of his shoulders, to the more gentle man she recognized. He grinned as the touch of his finger on a petal made a flower close up, but then cleared his throat: "Come on, then. Everyone's in the kitchen," before turning away, plant in hand.

"Coming, sir," James said, smiling in return.

"Enough of that sir nonsense. It makes me feel like I'm back in the Navy. Call me Paul." Lily's father called over his shoulder. James winked at a figure to his right and twirled his wand. Lily turned to see herself—hair curled, younger, and visibly nervous. Her past self smiled back, but it was only a flicker across her face.

"Told you I'm good at charming parents," James said, moving to bump his shoulder with hers.

"How are you with sisters?" James frowned and laced his fingers through hers.

"She made it?" He asked.

"And her husband—who treats me like I'm some sort of diseased rat. Mum and dad keep saying that it's because magic is so new to him, and he'll relax as he gets used to it, but he just seems to get worse each time we meet..."

Lily quickly moved ahead of the couple. She was home. Actually home. She wanted to savor every detail, not eavesdrop on James's memories. She slowed down her brisk walk when she spotted the line of framed pictures on the wall leading into the kitchen. She'd forgotten these photographs. Petunia always complained that they weren't hung in any sort of chronological order, but Lily rather liked the chaos. There was a shot of both she and Petunia before Lily's magic started showing—both of them covered in sand from their trip to Weymouth, squeezing each other so tightly they were cheek to cheek. One of Petunia's senior pictures—her blonde hair cut so severely at her chin that her oval face looked more horselike. The vicious part of Lily cheered at that. A picture of her parents frozen when they were young—her father in his Navy uniform, her mother wearing his sailor's hat. Another photo of her father proudly holding up tomatoes, wearing his dorky gardening hat. One of Lily when she was twelve racing down the street on her bike—the picture more of a red blur, than a solid figure. Another shot of her, chubby cheeked, sitting on the counter, covered in flour, and her mother grinning with flour dusting her own hair. Then, the only family photo on the wall: Petunia's wedding. Petunia looked rather pretty in it: the waves of her hair actually softened the angles in her face, her white dress transformed her into something graceful. Vernon looked, not handsome, but solid. Smiling with a confident happiness, rather than his usual superior smirk. Her parents were spiffed up and smiling cheerfully, but Lily was cursed in a rust colored dress (Petunia's choice), and with her clashing red hair and stiff expression, she seemed out of place in the photograph.

No pictures of her at Hogwarts were on the wall. Those were all pressed into a secret photo album on one of the shelves of her parents closet. It was supposed to be her graduation present, but her parents had died before they ever gave it to her. Lily had found it the final time she came to the house. It was the day after their funeral. Vernon wanted to sell the place as soon as possible, but was too tight-fisted to pay for a cleaning service. So she and Petunia went out to give it a final cleaning and go through their parents' things. Lily couldn't remember much of that day. She'd taken quite a rather large dose of calming draught, and so her memories seemed fogged over. What she could remember was that Petunia hardly spoke to her or even looked at her. Petunia just threw away whatever she touched until she got to their mother's recipe book. And, of course, her jewelry box. But Lily stopped her from throwing out the photo album. Now, Lily was wishing that she could have saved these pictures on the wall as well. Everything hurt to look at then (it still did), but now it was a good ache. A healthy ache.

"But you'll never guess what Patricia is up to now," Petunia's shrill voice brought her back to the present. "She's getting married!"

"Oh really! How wonderful. Is it that one man—Danny something?" Lily's chest tightened at the sound of her mother's voice.

"Nope, not Danny. Someone new: a Richard Finkle. They've only been dating a couple months."

"That seems a bit quick to get engaged."

"Exactly. Shannon at the office said that Patricia must've gotten in trouble. You should have seen their announcements—they actually used orange cardstalk. Orange! For a Summer wedding," Petunia emphasized, sounding delightedly outraged.

"People like Patricia have absolutely no respect for the institution of marriage. Give it a year or two, and she'll be a divorcee with two kids living off the government's coin," Vernon said, looking more walrus-like than ever with his tea-soaked mustache drooping over his cheeks. Lily hardly heard either her sister's gleeful gossip or Vernon's tirades. She watched her mother—seeing her crinkled smile over Petunia's fluff of nonsense, the glance she shot her father at the start of Vernon's speech, how she fussed with checking the meringue's thickness while he fussed with his new plant—avoiding any possibility of amusement or ire to show.

Like Lily's father, her blonde hair was also touched with grey—she wore it tied back with the same scarf as when Lily first saw her in the pensieve, but seeing her in color made everything feel fresh. Without quite realizing what she was doing, Lily had gravitated over to her mother, instinctively going to the piping bags to help her mother finish the Lemon tart. She was surprised again at her mother's lack of reaction to her again, as she reached over Lily to grab the piping bags herself. She tried to content herself with just being near her again as her mother piped meticulous kisses of meringue onto the Lemon tart, tuning out the mindless talk till everyone sat down at the dinner table.

"So, Petunia says you'll be moving home for good this Summer," Vernon said, taking charge of the conversation.

"Well, I'm graduating from Hogwarts, and I am planning on moving home for at least a year to save up for a deposit," Lily said.

"The chip shop around the corner is always hiring. I'm sure they'll take you on even with your CV," Petunia said with a smug smile. Lily saw the past James bristle at her tone.

"She won't need to work at a chip shop. She'll be at St. Mungos," he said firmly.

"You might jinx me, James. We haven't taken the NEWTS yet. I might not get in."

"Oh, you'll get in. You're brilliant." Her parents smiled at that, trading glances.

"Newts?" Vernon echoed faintly, saying the word like it was a type of contagious disease.

"They're like Wizarding A-Levels. I'm hoping to get a good enough score to be accepted into the Healer's program at St. Mungos. It's a hospital for magical injuries."

"So you'll be like a doctor," Lily's father said proudly.

"Hm," Vernon said, exchanging a dubious look with Petunia before taking a bite of roast chicken.

"What about you, James? What are your plans after graduation?" Lily's mother asked, taking her seat at the table.

"Well, me and my mates are going to buy a flat somewhere in London. I'm not sure what I want to do after that. I think I'm going to take a year and figure that part out," he said.

"What you should do is work," Vernon interrupted. "I can't tell you how many people I've seen take a Gap Year and end up an alcoholic and bloody broke. I can get a good word in for you at Grunnings. You'll start off as a sweeper, but after a year you might get promoted to one of the factory workers. In five years, after you've proven yourself, I might even be able to help you get into a sales position. Grunnings is a good job. It's stable. It'll teach you about hard work, and give you some real world experience. That's more than your school, Hogtail or whatever it's called, has given you."

"Oh Vernon," cried Petunia, looking up at the man with a soppy expression. "You're so thoughtful."

"Yes, that is very kind of you, I'm sure. It's a tempting offer. But, I think I'll pass on Grunting," James said with a hard glint in his eye.

"Grunnings," Vernon corrected him, narrowing his eyes: "And what do you mean you'll pass? How on earth are you going to support yourself?"

"Thanks to my parents, I have a rather comfortable inheritance to live on."

"And what did your parents do again?" Lily's mother cut in, trying once more to divert disaster.

"My father invented Sleakeasy's hair potion. It tames even the most pugnacious beast of a mane. I can get you some, if you'd like," James said pleasantly, turning to Vernon. He and Petunia stared for a moment at James's own hair, pointing up in all directions like he just walked through a hurricane. "Actually, maybe that one wouldn't be all that effective for you. I could get you his Regrowing salve first," James finished.

"And what do you parents think of your... plans? Are they proud to have such a son?" asked Vernon when he could speak, his face purple from the effort it took to keep his voice at a somewhat normal volume..

"They're dead," said James, a hard edge coming into his voice.

"How about dessert? Anyone ready for dessert?" Lily's mother asked both loudly and quickly, jumping up from the table.

"I would absolutely love some dessert," said Lily's father, also jumping up from the table to assist his wife.

Vernon was spluttering, Petunia was glaring daggers at Lily, and James was happily carving up his roast chicken. From her vantage point, Lily saw her past self put a hand on James's knee.

A moment later, Lily's mother and father returned. Her carrying the finished Lemon tart, him carrying serving plates and a pie spatula.

"Oh sugar," said Lily's mother, " I don't know where my head is. I forgot to get a knife."

"No need, mum" said Lily, and she waved her wand, causing a knife to soar out of its holder. She flicked her wand, and the knife began to cut the tart into portions, performing a single pirouette before falling to the table. Lily held her wand like a music conductor, and the show really began. The pie spoon cheerfully scooped up a serving of tart on each plate, with the plates slowly twirling to each person at the table. The forks performed their own dance—it looked rather like a gavotte—before making a final leap straight into the middle of each serving of tart. Vernon had turned white. Petunia's lips tightened so much that her mouth almost disappeared entirely. But her parents applauded.

"Well done, Lily" Her father said emphatically.

"Just marvellous!" Her mother chorused.

James just grinned at her.

The rest of the meal passed much more pleasantly. Vernon and Petunia spoke only when specifically addressed by Lily's parents, and even then in as few words as possible. Vernon looked absolutely cowed, while Petunia continued to fume over Lily's display, smashing her tart till it resembled sludge. When the plates were scraped clean, Lily's mother turned to Vernon.

"Vernon, are you feeling quite well?"

"I'm fine,"

"You hardly touched the tart. I thought it was your favorite,"

"Well, I'm a bit full, I suppose." He said cautiously. "But, look at the time, Petunia. We better be off. Got a meeting in the morning." He stood up. Petunia followed suit, and the two left the room without sparing any of them a last look or parting word.

"Lily," and the present Lily flinched. "Run after your sister and give her and Vernon the rest of the Lemon Tart. I've wrapped it up for them."

"But Mum—"

"Go. You might miss them," Lily's mother made a shoo-ing motion with her hands.

"Fine," Past Lily rolled her eyes and she accepted the tin and jogged out of the room.

"James, would you bring me your plate and Lily's, if you're done?"

"Of course," he said.

"Lily's told me a lot about you over the years," she said, handing him a dish towel.

"Oh! I can't imagine it was all praise of my good looks."

"No. In Lily's letters, her favorite title for you was 'bullying toerag.' I think that started in her fourth year." James winced at that.

"Are you saying this to give me a scolding?" he asked.

"Well you weren't exactly in top form tonight," interrupted Lily's father as he dropped off more dishes on the counter from the table. "But to be fair, neither was Vernon."

"Things are complicated between Lily and Petunia. And Vernon doesn't help. I'm hoping that with Lily living here for a while, the two can get reacquainted with each other and patch things up." Both parents shot James a significant look.

"And so I need to not make things worse. I understand," James said.

"Good," said her mother. "Thinking about it, I'm surprised it's actually taken the whole seven years for you to finally turn up here. We've had our suspicions for a while— even when she called you a bullying toerag," James looked up. " But again, this is Lily we're talking about. She's a stubborn thing. And sometimes to her detriment: It takes a lot to make her change, ask for help, or admit she's wrong. But once she holds on to something, she doesn't let go," Lily's mum finished, smiling affectionately.

"So be worthy of that," said her father gruffly.

"Done!" Lily's voice boomed from the door. "Petunia gave me such a lecture too. But you'd be proud, mum. I kept my mouth shut and just nodded my head," she came into the kitchen and tilted her head. "What have you all been talking about?"

"How your mother should open up her own confections shop. That was the best lemon tart I think I've ever had. I'd work there as a sweeper for free just to scrape the bowl," Lily's mother flushed, but she laughed.

"For that James, you get to take home some leftovers. Let me see if I can rustle up some of my biscuits for you too. Paul, could you help me get it all wrapped up? And Lily—living room or the porch, please." At this Lily blushed, but she pulled James along outside.

Lily tried to stay in the kitchen as long as possible. She wasn't sure how much longer she had here in this memory and didn't know how much she'd be able to see without the owner. Already, she felt some force compelling her forward, but she gripped the edge of the counter, willing herself to stay put. Her mother busied herself with filling several tuppewears for James, and her father leaned up against the counter.

"He's a bit mouthy, but I liked him," her father declared.

"I did too. I think Lily really likes him. But, I just hope they don't rush into things. It sounds like he needs to try find his place in the world—they both do."

"Yes. I wasn't sure how I felt when he talked about his plan with his inheritance. I thought it might have been just for show though."

"And they're still so young. Just seventeen!"

"Ah, but do you remember us at seventeen?"

"Oh, you! It was a different time then," Her mother said, and took a swipe at her father with a dish rag, laughing. Though Lily wasn't moving, their voices became muffled, their images blurry. She wasn't ready. She wanted to freeze this memory of them in her mind forever—laughing, hopeful, alive—but suddenly she was outside her home again, the sky dark with only a couple stars out.

"I'm sorry about my sister and her husband. They're really awful. I hope they didn't make you wish you never came," her past self was saying.

"Nah, they weren't that bad. Remind me to tell you about the last time I met Sirius's parents. Vernon's quite cuddly compared to them. And, I would have missed your performance! Vernon looked like his life had flashed before his eyes when his fork came leaping toward him!"

"It was just some basic charms," Lily said, leaning in to James.

"It was nonverbal magic! And you did it without any hesitation!"

"I just got so angry when he said that Hogwarts taught us nothing."

"No, not Hogwarts, he said Hogtail," James said laughing.

"That's right! How could I forget? Hogtail!" Lily snuggled closer into James's shoulder, chuckling. "I think my parents liked you though."

"I liked them. It was nice to have a family dinner, even with the Dreaded Dursleys. I've missed that."

"You can come over anytime for family dinner. You can keep me from stabbing him next time," Lily paused, but continued more carefully, "I wish I could have gotten to know your parents more. I wonder if they would've approved of me." The present Lily froze. She remembered. She wanted to put her hands over her ears, block out what she knew was coming next. She couldn't take this, not after seeing her parents, not after feeling like every nerve was raw.

"Approved of you? Lily, they would have loved you! They knew that I loved you for years, and they would've been so grateful to know that you put up with—" James cut himself off. Despite herself, Lily looked at them. Her past self had drawn away from him to better see his face, and though he was beet red, James met her gaze, smiling helplessly. The present Lily searched for her wand—she needed to leave. Now. She wasn't sure how one escaped a pensieve, but with her wand maybe she could blast her way out.

"Do you mean that?" She heard herself take a deep breath "thatyouloveme?" she said it quickly, the words all meshing together. Lily closed her eyes. Her wand must be back in the room. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions, to think about her options.

" Yeah, I do. I love you, Lily."

The world lurched beneath her feet, and when Lily opened her eyes, the entire scene had become blurry. She blinked trying to clear her vision, but the blurriness persisted. She reached out to the door to steady herself, and for a second, she saw her hand pass right through it, but then it was on a hard, smooth surface again. She blinked again, focusing her gaze on the decorative vase. Staring at the vase, she realized that her vision wasn't the cause of the blurriness: there were actually two vases now—or rather, two images of the same vase overlapping each other. She felt dizzy as she tried to keep the two images separate in her mind.

When she looked over at the couple of her and James, the blurriness became even more pronounced, and she had to squint in order to force her mind to take in the separate images. The easiest one to make out was one of her pushing away from James. He grabbed her hand, trying to pull her back, but she struggled and shook him off, and moved toward the door, disgust twisting her features. Their audio was muffled, almost like they were talking underwater— simultaneously too loud and too vague to make any sense. But when she fought to focus on the image beneath the surface, she could see the true memory: Lily had lunged toward James and was currently half in his lap, snogging him with her hands threaded through his hair. This was what she remembered.

The distortion distracted Lily from the pain of the memory. Curious, she stopped attempting to escape and watched the memory dissipate around her as the false layer faded before the true memory ended, finally clearing the blurriness as her younger self broke the kiss, hands still cupping James's face, and said: "I love you too. In case that wasn't clear." James laughed in delight, hugging her close—and then the scene shifted, and Lily found herself sitting on a four poster bed with scarlet overhangings.

"I think I got something that time! Doesn't my hand look a bit different?" cried a squeaky voice, and Lily turned to see a young Peter holding out his right arm which turned slightly green and doubled in size. He must have been about fourteen.

"Oh yeah, I think you're onto something. Maybe you'll be a flobberworm. Mighty useful that will be with a werewolf," Sirius shot back sarcastically as he flipped through a large tome.

"And I bet your animagus form is a hornet, Sirius, with how cheerful and helpful you are," said Remus, moving over to Peter. "I don't think you got the incantation quite right. It's Amiato Amino Praenuntio, not Amino Amiato Praenuntio. And ignore Sirius, he's just angry that he accidentally spat out his mandrake leaf yesterday."

Sirius made a rude gesture in response.

"Oi! Check this out," yelled James, and Lily had to twist around to see him, as he stood proudly up on the bed she sat on, brandishing a lone antler on his head. It was only two branches of bone, but the ends were sharp spikes. "I challenge you, Sir Grumpiness, to a fight to the death," he said, nodding toward Sirius.

"Piss off," said Sirius, his lips twitching as he fought the urge to smile.

James leapt off the bed, jostling Lily, and lowered his head, charging at the spot where Sirius sat reading. With her eyes open, Lily saw the moment of change. Just as James reached Sirius, the scene suddenly seemed to bend around the two like a funhouse mirror: Remus, Peter, the four poster beds all curving and elongating strangely, before snapping back to normal with the now familiar film of blurriness. James lost his balance—and with the uneven weight of his antler and his momentum— couldn't swerve or stop himself, as the sharp spikes of his antler plunged into Sirius's chest. Squinting, Lily saw the true image—James managing to swerve, missing Sirius, before he toppled over, making Sirius laugh at last.

The scene shifted, and on it went. Nearly each of the memories he placed in the pensieve contained some error. Sometimes they were obvious— like when Remus's voice clashed with the words he actually mouthed—and sometimes the changes were so fused into the scene that Lily couldn't make out the truth; she could only sense an overwhelming wrongness within the memory. Each one of them showed James at fault, causing pain to those around him. For the most part, Lily stomached the memories with her in them, able to find a way to distance herself from her emotions. But then she found herself standing outside the Three Broomsticks, lamp light illuminating the sickly, pale skin and glassy eyes of her past self. Her father's old parka seemed to swallow up her figure, making her seem rather fragile and small. In contrast, James's Auror robes made him seem taller, more substantial, though his features had yet to lose their boyish softness.

"What's wrong?" James asked.

"I just—I need to go." Her past self wouldn't meet James's eyes.

"Why?"

"I can't do this. I can't just make a toast to Edmond and then laugh at all the stories. Not while I have to look at Edgar. Not when it's my fault," The words came out in the rush, but they were almost unemotional, flat. James sighed and put a hand in his hair.

"Listen. You did your best. No one blames you. No one is even thinking of blaming you. But Edgar just lost his brother. He needs people right now."

"I can't, James. I wish I could, but I can't." He took a moment and studied her, taking in the tense set of her shoulders, how her gaze flitted from the lamp, to the snow, to the door.

"Right. Well, give me a second to say goodbye and then—"

"No. You can stay. I'll be alright on my own."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll just go home. Make a cup of tea." She tried to smile, but it turned into more of a grimace.

"And take a sleeping potion?"

"Maybe."

"So in other words, yes." His tone became sharp and sarcastic.

"Yes, I have problems sleeping, James. You know this. Why are you being so snippy about it?"

"I'm not being snippy—"

"Yeah you are! You're not my mother, you know. You're my boyfriend. So take down the nagging, please. I can take care of myself." Irritation bled through the flatness of Lily's voice, livening it up; James seemed to catch it, and continued to prod it further:

"Just tell me this: how many times this week have you taken a potion?"

"I don't understand why that matters."

"How many, Lily?" Stubborn, Lily shook her head, and half turned away. James angry. "Shall I count it for you? I might not have it all down, but I know you've taken a sleeping potion every day this week, and—I don't know how many exactly— you've been dosing yourself with tranquility potions almost on the top of every hour so that you've been totally numb. And then on Friday, I know you had several doses of Lucitrum to help you stay up all night, trying to save Bones. I don't think you've slept or even eaten anything since then."

"What are you doing? Following me around in your invisibility cloak, James? Or are you snooping in my rubbish bins? You don't get to play Auror with me. That's not how relationships work. You need to trust me—" She was actually angry now, glaring at him straight in the face.

"I want to! But you won't even answer my questions. You aren't talking to me, Lily!" James grabbed her hands, and held on tightly. Lily ripped her hands away from him and pushed him out of her way. She started rummaging around in her bag and pulled out a wand.

"I'm worried about you! You're acting like you are under the Imperious curse or like you're some Inferi! Taking all those potions won't help you, Lily. You have to talk about it. You have to eat and sleep and live, dammit! Expelliarmus!" Her wand flew out of her grip right before she could turn and apparate. James snatched it from the air with his free hand. She whirled around and stomped back toward him.

"James, give me my wand," She stopped a meter before him.

"No! No, not until you talk with me, Lily. Please."

"What do you want me to say? I'm sorry? I'm sorry that I couldn't save Edmond. I'm sorry that I froze up and watched him bleed out before I could do anything. I'm sorry that I can't just get over my parents' murder and be the happy Lily that you want!" Lily screamed the last part.

"That's not what I want," James said more softly, closing the gap between them. He slid the wands in his coat pocket, and tried to put his arms around her.

"Really? Because it seems you're disappointed that I can't be normal right now and have a pint at the pub and make toast to Edmond?" Lily leaned back to stare at him, challengingly.

"I think it would be better if you did! It has to be better than what you're doing." James winced as soon as the words left his mouth.

"What am I doing, James? Tell me, since you seem to be an expert." She spoke carefully, dangerously. But he didn't back down.

"You're wallowing in it. You're letting the despair win, and I've let you carry on for too long."

" You've let me? I didn't know I had your permission. And it's called mourning, what I'm doing." She pushed away from him again, but this time, she pulled out her wand from his pocket as she did so.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!"

They shouted at the same time, the red burst of light from James's spell bouncing off Lily's shield and into a snow pile.

"It's not mourning, what you're doing. I know! Did you forget, love? I've lost my people too." James's tone had softened, and he tried to step closer toward her.

"Yeah, but they weren't murdered, were they?" Lily shot back, and James stopped mid-stride.

"Excuse me?"

"They just got sick. They got to be old—you got to say goodbye!"

"So what, I'm lucky? Is that what you're trying to say?" James gripped his wand tightly, voice growing cold with anger, " My parents weren't murdered Lily, but I had to watch them slowly waste away. I got to say goodbye, but they hardly recognized me at the end."

"I'm not saying you're lucky! I'm saying it's different! We're different. When I close my eyes and try to sleep, all my dreams are about that awful night. How I rushed home, thinking I could save them in time. For a single second, when I saw them, I thought I did. I thought I made it. But then they didn't answer me. They weren't breathing or moving. They just sat there on the couch, quiet and so still. Gone. And it's my fault. I knew what could happen, and I didn't even warn them" Tears glazed Lily's face. She didn't bother wiping them away.

"Lily, none of this is your fault—not Edmond, not your parents. How many times do I have to say that? You have to start to believe—"

"I've tried!" Lily interrupted James, simultaneously casting a nonverbal silencing charm on him. "You're not listening! I know you're trying to be helpful—but all your pep talks just hurt. I'm tired, and I want to go home," she said, starting to turn to apparate, but then James shot the disarming charm at her once more, a flash of red illuminating the space between them.

And the world rippled.

A false Lily dodged the spell, flinging an immobilization hex back at a false James, and they began to duel in earnest, no more angry words or explanations, just bolts of light blasting into the snow around them. They ducked and dogged at impossible speeds, maneuvering so neither of their spells hit their targets, until James shot a jagged, green curse straight into Lily's chest, and she fell, lifeless, into the snow.

The real Lily pressed her hand against her chest; it was a lie, a horrible, terrible lie—she knew it. She was real and alive. The surroundings around her twisted and shifted into new shapes, but she didn't see them.

It was a lie, but their actual fight was all real. And she had forgotten most of it. How? Had she been that impaired from all the potions? Or was it because she was too ashamed?

"Enjoying the show?" asked a familiar voice. Lily turned around, trying to see where James's memories had taken her now—and saw Sirius Black, smirking back at her. Smirking at her? She froze.

"I wish I had time to give you a lecture about snooping in other people's things, but we got to go. Come on," He grabbed her by the elbow and tugged, pulling her out of the pensieve, and back into the makeshift, potion-brewing room.

A/N: Finally this chapter is done! And it's the longest one yet. Hopefully the next one doesn't take me another two months to write. But I hope this was worth some of the wait! Next chapter, James's fiance makes an appearance!