Petal in the Rain
Chapter 18 – The Swan and the Snake
One of us is now retreating, you knocked me down
So hard I'm seeing a thousand stars
Come out wherever you are
-A Fine Frenzy
Sirius Black knew something had gone wrong.
He opened his ochre eyes to find himself in a dark, lavishly-decorated chamber, heavy footfalls and gruff voices sounding in the outside corridor. He didn't recognize the regal room, dressed in rich purple and silver, but he did recognize the disembodied voices that sounded in the adjacent hallway: those of Sturgis Podmore, Dorcas Meadows and Caradoc Dearborn.
"—as if the Order doesn't have enough trouble with You-Know-Who, now we've got to worry about our own members breaking the law. Can you imagine Potter and Black off gallivanting in a muggle war, performing magic in the midst of battle? I've never heard of two more dim-witted, immature—"
"They must've had their reasons, Sturgis..."
"Ha! Likely just keen on making another front-page appearance on Witch Weekly. I wouldn't put it past those two; both of 'em are arrogant, fame-loving gits. Must come with the title of 'Lord'."
"Give it a rest, Podmore."
"What do you have against Potter and Black, anyway? Everyone thinks you don't like them because you're jealous of their titles."
"Jealous of those two? Don't be ridiculous! What is there to envy?"
"Money, power, good-looks...women practically fall at their feet—"
"Alright, I get the point, Dearborn; but I doubt their fancy titles will get them out of the mess they've landed themselves in this time."
Sirius leaned forward in his satin bed, awkwardly straining to hear Dorcas as her tone became hushed. "I've never seen James Potter like this before...it's as if he's been traumatized..."
"Yes, it's strange, indeed. I overheard Moody shouting questions at him in the dining hall before he used a silencing charm to muffle the noise. Arthur told me he and Shacklebolt found Potter in London, kneeling amongst the aftermath of the bombings..."
"What on earth would he be doing there? Are you saying Potter apparated right out of the hospital in Leeds?"
"Yes, with Black's wand. Arthur said when they found Potter in London they'd thought he'd been given the dementor's kiss. He was still and quiet, almost like he'd been emptied—his soul sucked right out of 'em. Didn't even speak when he and Shacklebolt apparated him back here."
"Why did they bring Potter and Black here? I was surprised when we were told to apparate into Hogsmeade..."
"Moody probably hoped Dumbledore could get through to Potter."
"You don't think he's been imperiused, do you, Caradoc?"
"Come off it, Meadows! Potter has always been off his rocker, it's just taken you and Dearborn this long to see it. The man isn't imperiused...he's just reckless and irresponsible. I mean, we save him and Black from a watery grave and magical arrest, and he repays us by disappearing when our backs are turned? Absolutely no regard for the Order or his duty—"
"Whatever is the matter with him, it must be serious. James Potter has never been the sort to show any kind of feeling, albeit anger...and he and Black have shown nothing but loyalty to the Order."
"Well I wouldn't be surprised if Potter up and disappears again. That muggle war has gone to his head, if you ask me."
Sirius grit his teeth, violently drawing back the bed covers and launching himself to his feet, determined to hex Sturgis Podmore until he no longer resembled a human being. He immediately felt sick, the blood rushing from his head and causing him to weakly stagger into a bed-side table. He grunted in frustration, grasping the table to keep from falling over as pain stabbed in various places all over his bruised body.
"I suggest you lay back down, Sirius. I expect some of your bones are still in the process of re-growing. Injuries like the ones you've sustained will take a few days to heal."
Sirius' head snapped up at the sound of another person in the darkened room. By the crackling fireplace stood a shadowed figure dressed in shimmering amethyst robes; firelight reflected in his half-moon spectacles.
"Lord Dumbledore," Sirius acknowledged him quietly, clumsily sinking back onto the bed as the renowned wizard approached his side; he sighed, feeling, for the first time in years, helpless. "I take it from the conversation outside that James and I have caused quite the stir. Are the Order members outside all for me?"
"Indeed," Dumbledore said softly, magicking a chair to Sirius' bedside with the flick of his wrist and taking a seat; his blue eyes fixed intently on the lord, interpreting his every gesture.
"I'm honoured," Sirius quirked an emotionless smile, the dread stirring in his abdomen overshadowing his usually cheeky nature. "Where have you brought me?"
Dumbledore offered an impish smile. "Care to venture a guess?"
Sirius looked around the room again, honing in on the musky smell of the furniture and tapestries, as well as the warmth from the fireplace. He had never been in that room before, but being there brought back familiar feelings: those of security, contentment and calm. It felt like he was being embraced by times gone by; like his happiest memories were welcoming him home.
It's been nearly three years...
"Hogwarts," Sirius whispered, feeling the burden he was carrying ease slightly.
"Yes," Dumbledore replied, putting a comforting hand on Sirius' shoulder. "We moved you here yesterday from a hospital in Leeds. James was escorted here only a short while before you."
"Shouldn't we be in the Ministry's custody?" Sirius inquired innocently, idly toying with the hem of the bed-dressings. "Not that I'm complaining..."
"I was less-than pleased to hear of your involvement in the muggle war, especially since I forbade it earlier on," Dumbledore began pointedly, staring evenly at Sirius over the brim of his glasses. "But the Order cannot afford to lose two valuable members—even if they have acted brashly."
Sirius surmised that, if he were capable of showing any symptoms of shame or embarrassment, he may have at that moment, Dumbledore making him feel like a naughty pupil at Hogwarts again; but, he wasn't particularly embarrassed or ashamed.
He was, after all, Lord Sirius Black.
The handsome man merely nodded, unwilling to justify his or James' involvement in the war. "I apologize for any inconvenience James or I have caused the Order. It was never our intention to cause any trouble. We contemplated telling you of our plan, but thought you would put a stop to it."
"Quite right," Dumbledore replied frankly, suppressing a sigh. "Nevertheless, your involvement in the war has remained a secret. The Order worked efficiently to locate you and James before the Ministry became aware of you."
"I...appreciate the Order's help, though I did not expect it," Sirius said curtly; he never liked to feel indebted to anyone, even the maudlin Dumbledore.
"If you were not a valued member of the Order, circumstances may have been different; however, we need you in this wizarding war, Sirius. The situation becomes graver each day, and there are not enough of us to stand up against Voldemort and his growing group of supporters. I need you and James, now more than ever."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, intrigued about the role he would play in Dumbledore's newest design. "So just like that, all is forgiven?"
"Yes; though I will require you to swear you will not return to fight in the muggle war," Dumbledore communicated seriously, his eyes hardening as he regarded the injured man. "We must stay out of this fight, Sirius. We have our own war to wage now. Can you vow to me that you will stay loyal to the Order and its cause?"
Sirius did not reply straight away, instead pausing to mull over the gravity of Dumbledore's words.
Above all, he wanted to make a difference, to be useful—perhaps even instrumental to real change. He wanted to feel the way he did when he attended Hogwarts; to live in a society—both magical and muggle—that was safe and free...open for any possibility.
He had always been devoted to fighting Voldemort and his followers, but had thought, like James, that he was more needed in the muggle war. The muggle war was tangible. Results could be achieved quicker and through direct action; he could simply jump into a plane and take down enemy fighters, or drive a tank and storm the beaches of Normandy. In the muggle war there was a feeling of satisfaction and instant gratification; this was absent in the magical war. The war Voldemort was waging was more shadowed; both sides acted in secret, waiting for the other to strike, and there were rarely clear victories...nobody could even be sure who was winning half of the time.
He and James had been impatient and hasty, thirsting for instant gratification...involving themselves in a war where they had a clear advantage over all other participants. They had magic. Sirius knew if it hadn't been for James' quick thinking with his wand, they both would have met a watery end.
Any other man in my situation would have died...
Sirius groaned, running his fingers through his hair. Despite his injuries, both physical and emotional, there would be no rest, for Dumbledore was—as per usual—unequivocally right. He and James belonged in the magical war which, in many ways, would be even harder to fight.
"I am loyal to the Order," Sirius finally managed, his disheveled face looking suddenly hot-blooded. "I won't leave again, Lord Dumbledore. I know where my place is now."
"Good," Dumbledore said benevolently, seeming to expect the handsome Lord's answer; he rose to his feet, collecting his hands together regally. "Now, if you would kindly come with me."
Dumbledore transfigured the ornate bed Sirius was lying upon into a rickety wheelchair—startling the young Lord—and charmed it to feebly follow in his wake. The bookshelf beside the fireplace, which Sirius hadn't taken notice of before, suddenly opened like a door, revealing a stone passage behind it.
"Where are we going?" Sirius asked, shifting ineptly in the wheelchair as it followed Dumbledore into the passage; he wanted nothing else than to climb to his feet and walk by himself, feeling patronized. "You aren't sending me off to the dungeons to serve detention, are you?"
"Clever, but no. You and I are going to find Lord Potter and determine whether he too can wholly commit to the Order," Dumbledore replied, though Sirius detected a hint of regret in his elderly voice. "I will need you to speak with him first and get to the bottom of what is troubling him. As I'm sure you overheard, he is in a wretched state. He has thus far refused to speak with any Order members or reveal what prompted him to leave the hospital without explanation."
"Is that so..." Sirius trailed off, trying to mask the worry that conveyed in his voice. If what he imagined had transpired, he very much doubted James would be in the state-of-mind to talk Order politics with Dumbledore.
The older wizard sensed Sirius' hesitance immediately. "You know what is upsetting him, don't you?"
Sirius closed his eyes, sighing forlornly. "I have an idea what it is...yes."
Dumbledore and Sirius emerged from the passage into a hallway lined with blazing torches, slumbering portraits and polished suits of armor. Sirius looked about nostalgically; despite the misery that was about to confront him, he was glad to be home.
Frank Longbottom leaned against one of the four oversized hour-glasses in the Great Hall, an indescribable, stern look upon his clean-shaven face. His brain was working furiously, and for good reason: it had been a chaotic twenty-four hours.
In the midst of conspiring with Dumbledore and Moody on how to keep Lily Everard—the wizarding world's only hope of defeating Voldemort—safe, Kingsley Shacklebolt had shown up to Hogwarts to inform Dumbledore that James Potter and Sirius Black had been found secretly participating in the muggle war and were recuperating from injuries sustained during an air-battle. Then, mere hours later, Arthur Weasley had arrived bringing news that James Potter had slipped out of the hospital, unnoticed, with Sirius Black's wand. Though he believed the story could get no stranger, four Order members later arrived with James Potter in their custody, explaining that he had been found in London in a nearly catatonic state.
Now, various Order members were gathered at Hogwarts, some interrogating an unresponsive James Potter, some keeping eye on an unconscious Sirius Black—should he try and escape—and others devising plans to keep Hogwarts' newest fugitive safe from the Dark Lord.
Frank couldn't fathom why James Potter had acted the way he did, nor did he have time to guess what consequences he and Sirius Black might face for defying Dumbledore's wishes; instead, a conversation that had taken place between Dumbledore and himself that very morning played over and over in his head like a broken record...
"Alright there, Frank?" Kingsley Shacklebolt inquired conversationally, slipping out of the Dining Hall and stopping beside the visibly disquieted Lord.
"Never better," Frank murmured distractedly, his unfocused eyes staring out at the Hogwarts grounds through the open front doors.
Kingsley offered him a half-hearted smile and clapped him on the back: "I know it's a lot to take in, but I think this plan Dumbledore has conceived is a good one. You should feel honoured that he has bestowed so much trust in you; enough to have you help carry it out. It will make a real difference to the girl."
"I just hope I can be convincing," Frank sighed in surrender, stuffing his hands in his suit-jacket pockets. "I have a feeling our dear Aurora won't be happy with this arrangement."
"By the sounds of it, you aren't particularly happy either," Kingsley snorted, causing Frank to glare at him cantankerously. "Come now, do you really think it will be that bad? She's a pretty little thing and quite amusing. Besides, it's not like Dumbledore is asking you to marry the girl."
"Have you had to spend time alone with her, Kingsley? The girl is intolerable, and her talent for reading people's thoughts is absolutely irksome," Frank vented in hushed frustration, wrinkling his forehead.
Kingsley grinned at the young wizard. "Afraid she may read your mind and find out the dapper Lord Longbottom has feelings for her?"
Frank barked indignantly, his indigo eyes widening in scandalized disbelief. "Where did you get such a ludicrous idea from, Shacklebolt?"
As Kingsley roared with derided laughter, Alastor Moody roughly pushed the doors into the Great Hall open and loudly slammed them shut behind him, a murderous look etched onto his ragged face. "Potter still won't say a bloody word about what he was doing when we found him in London. If I didn't know better, I'd say he's been confunded. Where is Dumbledore? I thought he was bringing Black to speak to him."
"Here they come now," Frank pointed out, spotting Dumbledore approaching them from down the adjacent hallway, Sirius Black rolling behind him in an old-fashioned wheelchair.
That's something you don't see every day...
"Ah, your lady-love also approaches, Frank," Kingsley whispered teasingly in Frank's ear, pushing the irritated wizard forward as he noticed Lily descending one of the castle staircases, a house-elf leading her way.
With a cross look, Frank brushed Kingsley off and looked up, taking in the unexpected appearance of Lily Everard. The young girl was clothed in a smart, form-fitting dress and jacket ensemble, a stylish hat atop her mound of perfect curls and soft gloves covering her hands. Her scarlet hat, jacket, and heeled-shoes matched perfectly and were accented by a sequined clutch she held to her side. Frank noticed her hair had been charmed a dark brown and lengthened considerably by Dumbledore—a fact he hadn't discerned in the confusion of their arrival mere days ago.
"Better get her off to Hogsmeade before the fireworks start up here," Kingsley said, prodding Frank out of his Lily-induced stupor.
"Fine...good luck with Potter," Frank garbled absentmindedly to Moody, shooting one last glare at a grinning Kingsley before crossing the enormous Great Hall to meet Lily Everard on the other side.
"It won't be long until Miss Aurora learns her way about the castle!" Mimi the house-elf squeaked encouragingly, waddling down the staircase in her floral-patterned towel beside Lily. "Mimi can take Miss Aurora for a tour around the castle anytime she likes so she can become better acquainted with it!"
"Thank you, Mimi. I really appreciate all the help you're providing me," Lily replied politely, suppressing a tired yawn behind one of her gloved hands; she was less-enthused than the house-elf that morning. "Where did Lord Dumbledore say I was going again?"
"Miss Aurora is going to Hogsmeade village to pick up some clothing and materials for her studies," Mimi reiterated happily, thrilled to be spending time with her new friend. "Miss Aurora will need to buy some books and potion-making tools for her lessons with Professor Snape. Master Dumbledore wishes to remind Miss Aurora that her lessons begin this afternoon."
Oh joy. One-on-one time with the wizard that has made it his mission to mock me whenever possible...
"Yes, I recall," she replied, biting her lower lip to keep from frowning.
Lily reached the bottom of the staircase and followed Mimi to the front doors of the castle. The little creature paused there and smiled up at Lily in adulation, slightly unnerving her; she certainly wasn't accustomed to being adored.
More like despised...
Blinking back grotesque images of Sister Agatha and Acantha, Lily looked about the Great Hall. She still felt awe-inspired by its magnitude and medieval quality, though she had been there once before. Her unnatural blue eyes trailed along the beautiful lines of the buttresses supporting the ceiling and the peculiar images in the stained-glass windows; when her neck began to cramp, they settled on the giant doors to the Dining Hall, where a small cluster of men was gathered, heads together in secretiveness...
Lily immediately recognized the three wizards as Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Frank Longbottom—her team of saviors. She contemplated crossing the gigantic atrium to greet them, but refrained when she saw Dumbledore and another wizard in a wheelchair approach them. Lily strained to register the features of the feeble man in the chair, but became distracted when she noticed Frank crossing the hall toward her.
"Who did you say is escorting me to Hogsmeade village, Mimi?" Lily questioned hesitantly, noticing the approaching looked oddly uneasy, his eyes shifting between the floor and her face.
"Master Dumbledore said Lord Longbottom would be accompanying Miss Aurora," Mimi responded, turning on the spot when she noticed him approaching. "Lord Longbottom will be bringing Miss Aurora back to Hogwarts after lunch too, in time for her lessons."
"Is that so..." Lily whispered, unsure of whether she liked Dumbledore's plan or not.
"Have a splendid time in the village, Miss Aurora!" Mimi chirruped brightly, apparating with a loud crack just as Frank arrived; he smirked when Lily jerked skittishly, finding it amusing that she was still alarmed in the presence of magic.
"Good morning, Lady Rockford," Frank delivered conceitedly as he came up beside Lily, grabbing her hand to kiss the top of it; she frowned in annoyance. "You look absolutely lovely this morning. You could almost pass for a lady in those clothes."
"Is that really necessary?" Lily whispered irritably, referencing Frank's aristocratic gestures as she pulled her hand out of his grasp. "Please, you don't need to pretend to be a gentleman on my behalf."
"The show is not for you, my lady—" Frank murmured back, plastering a fake smile onto his striking face; it starkly contrasted his intense, humourless gaze. "—but for everyone else who might ever be observing us. Appearance is everything, so you might as well get used to all the well-bred formalities right from the start. Remember, you need to be convincing for your disguise to hold up."
He was right, and she knew it.
"Fine," Lily sighed, deciding it best not to start a fight with Frank so early in the morning; she would, after all, be spending the better part of the day with him. "So, Lord Longbottom, what is the plan for this morning?"
Frank detected the spite in her voice and swallowed his snappy reply. "Dumbledore has asked me to escort you into the village to get some materials for your lessons. Are you ready to depart?"
Before Lily could reply, the brusque, loud tone of Alastor Moody's voice sounded from across the hall, diverting her attention. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HE'S GONE? I JUST SAW HIM IN THERE A MINUTE AGO!"
Lily looked over at the crowd of wizards outside the Dining Hall doors with shocked interest. She watching Kingsley and Moody storm into the Hall, their heads swinging back and forth in search of the missing individual. "I THOUGHT THERE WAS AN ANTI-APARATION CHARM ON THE SCHOOL!"
"There is," Dumbledore serenely called after the wizards, his voice only audible from across the entry because of its echo in the Dining Hall. "He must have exited another way."
"ONE OF THE WINDOWS IS BROKEN!" Kingsley hollered from the depths of the Dining Hall; Lily thought she saw him standing atop one of the long tables. "PROBABLY HEADED TOWARD THE VILLAGE, OR THE FOREST—"
Dumbledore swept into the Dining Hall where Kingsley and Moody were searching, leaving the scruffy, heavily-bandaged man in the wheelchair alone in the Great Hall. Lily scrutinized him again: he had his tired head propped up against one of his hands, covering his eyes. She thought he looked weary—almost as if he had accepted some kind of defeat. Oddly, Lily felt compelled to approach him and assure him everything would be alright...
"Come; we have no business in this issue," Frank commanded gently, pulling Lily's attention away from the peculiar man across the hallway as he grabbed her hand and began guiding her out of the castle.
"Who are they looking for?" she probed curiously as Frank pulled her down the stone steps leading to the school grounds. The morning sun's brightness assaulted her eyes, causing her to shade them with her free hand. "And who was the man in the wheelchair?"
"He is another Order member, but he doesn't know about you," Frank replied shortly; Lily sensed his annoyance with her questioning, something else being on his mind. "Who Dumbledore and the others are looking for is none of your concern. Now, kindly get into the carriage and stop barraging me with enquiries."
Lily squinted up at the lonesome black carriage positioned on the dirt road before the castle; pebbles crunched beneath her as she and Frank approached it and took shelter under its temporary shadow. Frank gallantly opened the door and helped Lily into the Victorian coach before jumping in and taking a seat across from her.
"Are there no such thing as automobiles in the wizarding world?" Lily questioned in a patronizing tone, raising an eyebrow as she examined the interior of the carriage. The seats were fashioned in crushed velvet and the windows festooned with lacy curtains.
"No muggle inventions work within Hogwarts or on Hogwarts grounds. I suggest one of the first books you read is Hogwarts: A History," Frank advised, absentmindedly looking out of the carriage window as it twitched and began to move along the road; Lily wondered if he was searching for any sign of the escaped person mentioned before. "You must devote yourself whole-heartedly to your studies and carefully observe the everyday practices of the magical aristocracy. Not knowing the answers to simple questions, such as the one you just asked, will give you away immediately."
"I understand that, Frank, but it's a lot to learn." Lily replied, her voice quivering with suppressed anger and vulnerability; this garnered Frank's attention and caused him to turn away from the window. "I've never been a witch, and I've never been a noblewoman. I'm going to need help adjusting. It's difficult for me to present a believable front...to pretend to be someone I'm not...if I haven't experienced either world."
Some of the anxiety and inexplicable irritation Frank felt toward Lily that morning melted away with her sincere expression of fear. She was a vulnerable, naive girl of seventeen that had been unwittingly thrust into a positively frightening situation she was expected to handle with relative poise—yet he was prone to treating her like a toffee-nosed, entitled society witch. He knew some of the consternation he felt when around her was derived from his own fear of the unknown: he had never experienced a woman like Lily before, and he wasn't sure how to act around her. She somehow had the effect of transforming him into a competitive, arrogant schoolboy, rather than the distinguished lord and expertly-trained Order member he was.
"I apologize, Lily. It's been a hectic morning, but that is no excuse for my rudeness," Frank declared regretfully, staring at Lily with genuine, concern-filled eyes; she was suddenly at a loss for words, taken aback by his affection. "It is my chief mission to protect you and I will do whatever that mandate requires, including helping you to learn the ways of the wizarding world. Please forgive me."
"I... forgive you," Lily replied, finding her voice. She averted her eyes from the handsome wizard and looked out the coach window, suddenly feeling awkward in Frank's presence.
It isn't every day that a man pledges to protect you, no matter the cost...
Her thoughts suddenly flickered to James, but she immediately quashed the nostalgic image of him in an army uniform, unable to deal with the repercussions of such a memory.
Lily had spent the entire previous day locked in her dormitory room mourning James, replaying memories of times she and he had spent together. It killed her to think those memories were among her happiest and that she may never experience such bliss again. She had no way of knowing whether James was dead or alive and knew that, if he survived the war, she could still never see him again now that she was in hiding. Even if Voldemort were eventually defeated and she were able to embrace her true identity, Lily didn't imagine James would be thrilled to find out she was a witch.
How ironic...I finally come into money and a title, and still I don't fit in his world...
The reality was that she could, and would, never be with James again. Lily wasn't mourning his death, as she could not be sure of his survival, but the death of her life with him. She prayed that he would survive, unable to fathom living in a world where he did not exist, but knew she had to come to grips with her new life if she hoped to survive...
I can't stay holed up in my room…crying…forever. I need to embrace my second chance at living.
The carriage continued to amble forward, beginning to climb a subtle incline. Thick, ancient forest was all there was to observe for a while, but twenty minutes into the trip the landscape again opened up and an old-world village, situated on the top of a hill, came into view.
"Just up the mount is Hogsmeade Village," Frank said, beginning to grow anxious with Lily's pensive silence; he wondered if he had said something to upset her. "It's one of a few wizarding villages in the UK. They are hard to come by, as hamlets always have to be in remote areas so muggles don't stumble upon them."
Lily pressed her face closer to the window, visibly intrigued, so Frank continued. "Hogwarts students are allowed to visit Hogsmeade village on select weekends. My friends and I used to come to the village to purchase sweets from Honeydukes and jokes from Zonko's..."
"They sell jokes in Hogsmeade?" Lily whispered, a ghost of a smile lighting her face as she continued to stare at the nearing parish.
"Yes, there are many different shops, all selling unique magical things. There are also a few pubs, like The Three Broomsticks," Frank said, suddenly excited at the prospect of showing Lily the village. "You will certainly be bombarded with a lot of new magical things at once. Do your best to observe and adopt as much as you can while you're here."
The coach rattled to a stop when it arrived at the edge of the village. Lily's stomach flip-flopped nervously as she became aware that simply shopping around Hogsmeade would be her biggest challenge yet: Lily would be seen outside the confines of Hogwarts and would come into contact with many witches and wizards whom she would have to convince of her elite status in magical society...
"Are you ready?" Frank inquired, noticing the tense look on Lily's pale—albeit pretty—face. "You'll do just fine. Just keep to the story and try to avoid answering any questions you may not know the answer to. As I am escorting you around the village, I will do the talking should anyone address us. Proper gentlemen always do."
Lily bit back a sharp retort regarding sexism and tore her gaze away from the window, instead fixing it upon Frank. "What do I say if anyone asks why you are escorting me?"
"Again, I will handle any questions like that," Frank said, shrugging the query off. "The best advice I can give you is to try and suppress any visible reactions you may have to anything magical, so as to not give yourself away—"
"That'll be easy enough."
"You nearly jumped a mile off the ground when that house-elf apparated this morning."
"...point taken."
"—and make sure to act excruciating proper always. No slang words or phrases, no running or outbursts of emotion, and no associating with shady-looking characters that might ruin your reputation. Also, try and fake a bit of a superiority complex. Most society women are quite snobby and turn up their nose at anything they may regard as distasteful."
"You want me to pretend to be a stuck-up bitch?" Lily demanded in a high-pitched tone, appalled by the thought of acting anything like Acantha.
"Ah yes, and please, no curse words," Frank raised an eyebrow at Lily's choice of prose, trying to keep an amused smile from creeping onto his face.
"I'm not going to be rude to anyone, Frank," Lily insisted stubbornly, her shakiness temporarily subsiding and some of the fire returning to her eyes. "I can't imagine all society witches think they are superior. I think you're generalizing."
"Sure, maybe there are one or two who don't, but they stand out. We are trying to have you blend in, if you recall," Frank frowned at the tenacious girl, though he was secretly relieved she had returned to her passionate self.
"I don't care," Lily said, folding her arms and looking away from Frank.
"Ah ha! You are capable of acting like a society woman. Just look at you scorning me for trying to make you do something you find objectionable," Frank announced triumphantly, a grin spreading across his face as Lily huffed in defeat and took to glaring at him.
"Can we just go, please?" Lily requested tetchily; she hated being proven wrong.
"Of course, my lady," Frank mocked, chuckling as he opened the carriage door and valiantly offered his hand to help Lily out of the vessel and onto the cobblestoned road. "Lady Rockford...welcome to Hogsmeade Village."
Lily's crystal eyes took a moment to adjust before they chronicled the strangely charming appearance of Hogsmeade.
At the beginning of the wizarding village was a picturesque fountain—which served to welcome visitors with its quiet bubbling—while near the end of Hogsmeade was a quaint little square where a medieval clock-tower operated to remind shoppers of the time. Beautiful as the monuments were, they were not the village's distinguishing feature: Hogsmeade mostly consisted topsy-turvy, slapdash shops and pubs with pitched, poorly shingled roofs, twisting chimneys and brightly-painted store signs. Many of the shops appeared to be built on uneven ground—some even looking close to tumbling over—but the village did not have a run-down feel to it. Instead, Hogsmeade had a warm, hospitable aura that embraced one like the smell of a home-cooked meal.
"Wow..." Lily breathed, taking Frank's arm as she stepped out of the carriage. Hogsmeade, like Hogwarts, was unlike anything she had ever seen, and was a far-cry from the bustling streets of London.
"Before I forget, take this," Frank fumbled in one of the inside pockets of his expensive suit jacket and withdrew a small, bulging draw-string bag, which he placed in Lily's hand.
"What's in here?" Lily questioned, the contents of the bag clinking and jiggling.
"It's your money. We can't very well access your family's safe at Gringotts, as the death eaters could get wind of it, so from now on you will be drawing money from the Dumbledore family safe," Frank explained quietly. "Dumbledore will fund all of your needs from now on."
"What?" Lily hissed, failing to hide her upset. "I can't let him do that!"
"Don't make a scene," Frank murmured to her, though the command in his voice was unmistakable. "Dumbledore has plenty of money; he couldn't spend it all in one—perhaps even two—lifetimes, even if he tried."
"But—"
"Don't argue. You can pay him back once this is all over. For now, you will take this money and spend it without scruple. Remember, there is no such thing as a frugal aristocrat. Spending lavishly is all part of fitting in," Frank insisted; Lily frowned, but obediently tucked the money into her bag. "Good. Now, let's be off to Gladrags' Wizardwear."
Lily was unsure of how she felt about Dumbledore using his own money to protect and keep her, but put the thought out of her mind as Frank pulled her further into the village.
Hogsmeade was quiet that sunny morning, only a few witches and wizards roaming the streets and darting into shops with their arms overflowing with bags and parcels. As they walked, Lily marveled at the glittering products predominantly paraded in shop windows, reminding herself not to appear too transfixed or enthralled by the magnificent and strange collections on display.
The first shop that caught Lily's eye was Dervish & Bangs, an oddly-named, cramped little store with piles of odd magical instrumentation spread over tables in the front window. A sooty old wizard methodically tinkered with a round object—which incessantly sputtered red smoke—near one of the tables, making Lily surmise the shop was for magical repairs.
The second store that came into view was more interesting that Dervish & Bangs. Lily barely suppressed a girlish squeal when she looked into the window of Honeydukes Sweetshop, a store she recalled Frank mentioning before. Honeydukes was larger than the last shop in size and displayed an array of rainbow-coloured candies, chocolates and suckers capable of rendering any child faint. Succulent sweets seemed to fill every shelf of the store, bricks of fudge displayed under glass and jars filled to the brim with Ton-Tongue Toffee, Ice-Mice and Fizzing Whizbees—candy Lily had never come across in her lifetime.
"They sell blood-flavoured lollipops?" Lily whispered to Frank as he pulled her past the shop, trying to hide the alarm in her voice.
In truth, she wanted nothing more than to stop and press her face against the window of the store to admire the wonderful wares inside.
"Yes, vampires tend to like those," Frank replied, a smirk creeping onto his mouth when he noticed Lily try to mask her uneasy astonishment; her face remained neutral, but her eyes bulged slightly. "We can come back here if we have time before lunch. Ah, here is the clothier."
Slightly disappointed, Lily let Frank pull her into Gladrag's Wizardwear, a spacious clothing store that boasted rack upon rack of colourful, perfectly arranged garments. The shop, which smelled of roses and fresh linens, was empty when they entered, the only occupants being the disturbing mannequins posed in the front window.
Frank cleared his throat authoritatively, making Lily jump in the broken silence. Looking around, she suddenly felt sickened at the thought of having to pick out clothing, especially with Frank breathing down her neck the entire time. As it was, Lily felt her sense of style was poor, and she knew it would be even harder to figure out something suitable for an aristocratic witch to wear with Frank critiquing her every choice.
Oh god. I hope he doesn't make me try things on and show him…
"Oh dear, please pardon me!" a plump, middle-aged witch in iridescent lilac robes singed as she appeared from behind a curtain near the back of the shop, her voice reverberating against the walls like a bell. "I thought the store was vacant. Customers don't usually come in until closer to eleven. Can I help you with anything?"
"No apology necessary, Madam Gladrags," Frank said politely, a charming, but humble smile lighting his face; Lily took note of how quickly he could turn on his lordly façade. "I am Lord Longbottom and this is Lady Rockford."
The woman seemed to pale when she realized she was speaking with nobility.
"A pleasure to meet you, Lord Longbottom, Lady Rockford!" Gladrags flashed them a panicky smile. "I deeply apologize for not remembering you had made an appointment here!"
"Please, it should be I apologizing. I did not make an appointment with you, though I rather hoped you would have a slot available for this morning," Frank explained, flashing an enchanting smile that Lily guessed he used only when trying to win over a woman; she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You see, Lady Rockford arrived in London last night via the Floo Network and took the train here this morning. As she is from Canada, a special connection had to be made with the Ministry so she could travel by Floo; however, in an unfortunate turn of events, all of her luggage was somehow lost in the transaction. Because of this, Lady Rockford is in need of an entirely new wardrobe."
"How unfortunate indeed!" Gladrags chimed in, though Lily could tell she was delighted at the prospect of so much business.
"We really don't mean to trouble you or hold up any of your upcoming appointments, but the lady is absolutely desperate for forty or fifty new day outfits, some new party dresses, summer robes, shoes and other accessories," Frank recapped, faking despondency to get what he wanted. "Can you help her?"
Frank extracted a bag of coins nearly triple the size of the one he handed Lily earlier and dropped it on the counter near the cash register, the bag falling with a pronounced clang.
Gladrags' jaw nearly dropped to the marble floor as her eyes—the size of saucers—fixed on the heavy bag of wizarding money. "I couldn't possibly turn down a lady in such desperate need. My other appointments can be rescheduled. I would be more than pleased to help pick out a new wardrobe for you, Lady Rockford!"
Lily weakly smiled at the fake woman and nodded her head, Frank clapping his hands together in triumph beside her. "Excellent! See to it that all the gold in that bag is spent, Gladrags, and that you outfit the beautiful Aurora with the latest and most fashionable lines. Gala season is coming up, after all."
"Of course, Lord Longbottom," Gladrags curtsied spectacularly, her grin spanning from ear to ear. "You leave Lady Rockford in good hands, I assure you! My lady, if you will follow me to the V.I.P. room I will fetch you a glass of champagne and we can get started."
Gladrags curtsied again and took off behind the curtain near the back of the store with Frank's bag of coins, a perky bounce in her step.
"Are you not staying?" Lily questioned as Frank opened the shop door to leave.
"I know better than to get involved in women's affairs," Frank smiled teasingly, giving Lily's shoulder an encouraging squeeze before stepping out. "I'll be back in a few hours collect you. Please remember everything we've talked about."
"I will. See you in two."
"Au revoir."
"Oh, and Frank?" Lily called out gently before the door shut.
"Yes?"
"I'm paying you back for all that gold you just handed over."
"You're ridiculous."
"Au revoir."
Lily heard Frank chuckle as the door closed behind him. Taking a deep breath, she timidly crossed the store and swept the curtain disguising the next room aside to find Madam Gladrags charming a bottle of champagne to pour into a gold-rimmed flute.
"There you are, my lady! Please, come stand on this platform so I can take your measurements," Madam Gladrags handed Lily the flute and encouraging her to stand in the middle of a luxurious room lined with gilded mirrors and portraits of beautiful witches in designer apparel.
Lily approached the plushy platform and stepped up onto it, trying to remain confident as she looked at her reflection in the mirror facing her. Gladrags began busying herself with Lily's measurements, charming a tape measure to glide over and across Lily's figure. Once she was finished, Gladrags excused herself and left the room to find some clothing for Lily to try on.
"I just received this shipment of clothing in last night: it's a line popular in our Paris stores right now," Gladrags exclaimed when she re-entered the room with two racks of clothing magically following her. "If you like these garments, you'll be the first society woman to showcase them in Britain! I'm sure all the ladies will be absolutely envious of you."
"I'm sure I'll like them," Lily smiled uneasily, feeling insecure as she did not know how to convey her poor sense of style without giving herself away. "To be blunt, Madam Gladrags, I'm putting my trust in your expert fashion sense today, for I'm quite clueless as to what is in style right now. The—er—fashion in Canada is quite different, you see."
"Is that right?" Madam Gladrags inquired, beginning to remove expensive robes from the clothing racks. "I thought it would be quite similar. The jacket suit you are wearing is simply exquisite. Who is the designer?"
"Oh...this old thing?" Lily squirmed uncomfortably, offering a weak laugh; she was beginning to realize she was an exceptionally bad liar. "Frank bought this outfit for me when he heard of my luggage predicament. Couldn't very well wear what I wore yesterday, could I?"
"Oh my, absolutely not!" Gladrags agreed, ushering Lily into a changing room and beginning to hand her clothing between the curtain. "That lord of yours is an absolute doll! I'd kill to land a man willing to spend so much money on me."
Lily half-heartedly laughed in response, unsure of how she was supposed to react to the shopkeeper. Was she meant to pretend that she and Frank were courting one another? Did Frank escorting her to Hogsmeade automatically mean, in the aristocratic world, that they were a couple?
Lily slipped on the dress that Gladrags had given her and glowered at her image in the mirror, not even paying attention to the garment. If it was Dumbledore's plan to make her and Frank look like an item, the least Frank could have done was tell her so...
"Yes, Lord Longbottom is a good friend to me," Lily declared nonchalantly as she walked out of the change room in a bright red evening gown; the older witch smirked, but did not inquire further.
"You look magnificent in that, Lady Rockford," Gladrags cried gleefully, hurrying over to Lily to fluff up her train and fix the straps. "You know, red is a beautiful colour on you, but I think you would really stand out in a royal blue or emerald green."
Would have matched my old eye colour...
"I'm willing to try anything, Madam Gladrags," Lily said softly, suddenly overwhelmed by her appearance in the multiple mirrors opposite her; the dress she wore was the most beautifully-made garment she had ever worn. "You really do make stunning clothing...I've never seen such luxurious materials before."
"Thank you, Lady Rockford! You are far too kind," the clothier emphasized sincerely, a genuine smile flitting over her proud face. "I suspect anything would look exceptional on you, though, as you are already so lovely."
Lily blushed, taken aback by the woman's compliment; she wasn't accustomed to receiving them. "Please, Madam Gladrags, call me Aurora."
The shopkeeper looked slightly gobsmacked at the prospect of calling an aristocrat by her first name, her face losing its colour. "You wish me to call you A-Aurora? I don't want to show you any disrespect, my Lady—"
"I'm sure we will come to know each other well, as I will be frequenting your store often," Lily explained, finding the woman's reaction to be very much like Mimi's. "Please, I insist; being constantly referred to as Lady Rockford can get tiring."
Gladrags smiled curiously at the young lady, regarding Lily as if she were a rare treasure. "You are a delight, Aurora. Has anyone ever told you that?"
Before Lily could respond, another high-pitched voice sounded from the front of the store. "Gladrags? Where are you? Do you really mean to make me wait forever?"
"Oh no, she mustn't have received my owl..." Madam Gladrags murmured nervously, fear reflecting in her eyes as she suddenly excused herself and disappeared behind the curtain.
Curious as to whom the shopkeeper was apprehensive of, Lily hopped off the platform and crept toward the curtain, peaking from behind it.
By the front counter was a slender woman with pale skin and straight, white-blonde hair. The lady—who looked to belong to old money—wore a tailored black and gray dress-suit and a feathered hat that ostentatiously matched her beaded designer bag. She impatiently clinked her pumps on the marble floors, her lips pursed in irritability as she awaited Madam Gladrags.
Lily immediately disliked the woman.
"Lady Black! What a surprise to see you here this—"
"Surprise? What on earth are you talking about? My servant made an appointment for 10 o'clock only days ago. Do you mean to tell me you have forgotten?" the blonde woman demanded haughtily, her silver eyes glaring menacingly at the shopkeeper, whom she clearly had no qualm about treating poorly.
"N-No, Lady Black, I did not forget, but some unexpected circumstances have occurred—" Madam Gladrags stuttered, her shoulders shuddering in the presence of the cruel noble.
"What do you mean, unexpected circumstances?"
"D-D-Did you not receive my owl, Lady Bl—?"
"Obviously not, or I wouldn't be here!"
"I'm s-s-s-so sorry, Lady Black! There was an emergency—"
"Do you think I care? I need a dress for a party tonight, Gladrags, and if I don't get one this instant, I can assure you Lord Malfoy will hear of it."
Mustering the most self-important tone she possibly could, Lily stepped out from behind the VIP room curtain to come to the shopkeeper's rescue. "Gladrags? What's going on here? Why is this woman holding up my appointment? I'm on a tight schedule, as you know."
Before a bemused Gladrags could answer, the snotty witch—who looked around Lily's age—quickly snapped at her. "It seems Gladrags has wasted both of our times by scheduling us for the same appointment."
Lily turned to look at the woman in vain disinterest, Gladrags nervously looking between the two society witches. "That seems very unlikely."
"I beg your pardon? My servant made an appointment for this time," the witch insisted, hotly glaring at Lily, who dared to question her.
"Clearly your servant has made a mistake," Lily bit back smoothly, her expression glacial as she sighed dramatically and offered Lady Black a fake smile. "Perhaps you should find yourself better help."
Lady Black narrowed her eyes as she spoke, her lips curving into a half-scowl as she pompously took in Lily's regal appearance. "And who are you, exactly?"
Lily bit back a nasty retort, instead applying an equally conceited smirk to her face. "Lady Aurora Rockford, niece of Lord Dumbledore...and you are?
Lady Black's face was a mixture of subdued shock and curiosity. "I didn't know Dumbledore had a niece."
"His sister, Arianna...I am her daughter," Lily replied curtly.
"Is that so...I am Lady Narcissa Black, of the Noble House of Black. Why have I not seen or heard of you before, Aurora?" Narcissa inquired, her hoary eyes fixed on the new aristocrat. "I've been to nearly every important party since my début."
Lily struggled not to roll her eyes.
"I only just moved to England from Canada," Lily explained cautiously, wishing the big-headed debutant would stop asking her questions.
"From Canada? Why do you have a British accent, then?" Narcissa challenged suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.
Nosy bitch.
"You really must brush up on your geography, Narcissa. Canada is a British colony," Lily chuckled lightly, trying to be as condescending as possible; Narcissa frowned in defeat. "Now, do you mind if Madam Gladrags and I finish?"
"Please, I insist," Narcissa replied in a syrupy tone, mocking sweetness.
Lily flashed a fake smile and grasped Madam Gladrags arm, pulling her back into the V.I.P. room and closing the curtain behind her. Narcissa remained at the front of the store, arms crossed and her eyes venomously glaring at the floor.
"Oh, Aurora dear! Thank you for stepping in, but I have to go out there and try to convince Lady Black to come later in the day..." Madam Gladrags explained sadly, clearly still fearful of confronting the woman outside.
"No need, Madam Gladrags. I trust in your sense of style; just pick out anything you think will look good on me and I'll take it. I'll need more dresses, casual wear and the like. Do you mind? This way you can take Lady Black now. Perhaps I can pick up the clothing before I leave the village after lunch?"
Gladrags blinked, looking stunned and relieved. "Are you sure, Aurora? You might not like what I pick out, and I don't want to cut your appointment short—"
"If I'm honest with you, I'm really not good at picking out things for myself," Lily said, reddening. "I've never been much of a shopper."
Gladrags found Lily's confession humorous, suddenly bursting into amiable laughter. "Please do not take offence to this, my Lady, but you are the oddest noblewoman I've ever met! You aren't at all unpleasant and you aren't obsessed with your looks; that is very odd indeed!"
Lily laughed, taking Gladrags' remark as a compliment, but worried she was already doing a terrible job of disguising herself as a magical aristocrat.
"I will pick out my finest clothing for you, Lady Aurora; I promise you won't be disappointed with the outfits I come up with! Where shall I have the garments sent?"
Lily blinked, unaware such practices took place. "Um...well I suppose to Hogwarts. I'm staying with my uncle Dumbledore for the summer...he's the headmaster there."
"I'm well aware of who your uncle is, dear Aurora," Gladrags chuckled, magicking clothing back onto racks to clear the room for Narcissa's appointment. "There isn't a witch or wizard in England who doesn't know of Lord Dumbledore."
Lily smiled in agreement, though she made a mental note to figure out why that was the case.
"I suppose I'll be on my way then. Thank you for your help today, Madam Gladrags."
"Please, call me Gabrielle!" the older woman beamed warmly. "You will come back soon, won't you?"
"I will. Though it may be impossible—" Lily frowned, inclining her head to the front of the store where Narcissa impatiently waited. "—I hope the rest of your morning is enjoyable."
Gladrags chuckled again as Lily swept back the store curtain and headed for the exit. She knew she was commencing her time in the clothing store far earlier than she was supposed to, but she didn't want to cause Gabrielle any trouble—and Narcissa Black had trouble written all over her.
When Lily entered, Narcissa looked up at her in subdued disdain, her posture communicating an air of indifference. Lily nodded curtly as she passed by the woman, almost making it to the door before Narcissa opened her mouth again. "Will you be attending the Hogwarts' Gala in August, Lady Rockford?"
She bit her lip, unsure of how to answer a question she didn't actually know the answer to. "I suppose that depends on how long I stay in England, Lady Black. Good day."
Without waiting for a response, Lily bolted from the shop as quickly as she could, knowing she would be relentlessly questioned and her resolve tested if she remained. Frank had explicitly told her to wait at the clothier for him, but she couldn't bear to be in the blonde-haired witch's presence any longer.
When Lily exited the shop she noticed the streets had become much busier. Witches and wizards darted by her quickly, some wearing oddly-coloured robes or mottled hats, others carrying oddly shaped packages or animals. One wizard was walking down the street with a pet porcupine on the end of a leash and a broom balanced over his shoulder.
After enjoying a spell of giggles, Lily looked up and down the street, wondering what to do. As she was uselessly standing in the midst of a crowd, Lily thought it practical to explore other stores and return when her two hours were up, rather than waiting around and chancing another encounter with Narcissa.
I definitely wouldn't mind taking a second look in Honeydukes...
As Lily headed back toward the beginning of the village where the sweets store was located, she secretly hoped she would not run into Frank and be scolded for deviating from the plan.
When she entered Honeydukes it was bustling with activity, filled to the brim with older wizards and witches and their young children, who were jumping up and down in sugar-induced joy. Lily couldn't suppress a smile as she perused through the shelves and buckets filled with candies and chocolates, her eyes excitably registering the strange names of the sweets. She thought Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans were especially interesting, for the jelly beans purported to be a "risk with every mouthful."
"Can I help you with anything, m'dear?" an older, balding man with a bright smile and large belly asked Lily, merriment reflecting behind his round glasses.
"Oh...I'm just looking around, thank you. I've never seen candy like this before," Lily mused in a daydream-like haze, examining the back of a box of chocolate frogs.
"My word! It isn't often I run into a child or teenager who hasn't been in my store before," the man announced loudly, grasping his tummy and chortling like a magical Santa Clause. "You simply must try our deluxe candy kit! It includes a tester of all of our candies and chocolates, and we're selling it for a reduced price at the moment!"
Before Lily could respond, the plump man disappeared into the backroom of the store and returned bearing a large package filled with every bonbon imaginable. "What do you say, m'dear? Did you want to give them a try? I guarantee after you taste the chocolate cauldrons and sugar quills you'll be glad you did..."
Lily emerged from Honeydukes ten minutes later (the whole ten minutes spent trying to understand how to pay with magical money), her arms boggled down with bags full of sweets and her purse a little lighter. Feeling invigorated, Lily eagerly headed to Zonko's Joke Shop next.
Zonko's was just a busy as Honeydukes, though this time the shop was only filled with children and teens. Lily looked around briefly, transfixed by some of the silly tricks on display. She began to giggle when she overheard some young boys huddled in the corner whisper about using Dungbombs—which she understood to be like smelly water-balloons—to prank their siblings and parents.
After experimenting with a nose-biting teacup (which she swore she'd never touch again), Lily left the amusing shop and headed toward the end of Hogsmeade where the large clock-tower presided. She contemplated browsing Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop or Potage's Cauldron Shop, but instead decided to find a pub, feeling thirsty after her shopping.
Lily continued down the road, past the clock-tower and post-office, until she came upon a ruddy-looking pub at the edge of town, The Hog's Head. Though it looked a bit run-down, Lily decided to enter, too thirsty to head all the way to the Three Broomsticks, located on the opposite side of the village.
The pub—which smelled strongly of soot and beer—was virtually empty, only a few patrons huddled over drinks near the bar. Lily entered the shabby establishment, coughing as the old dust filled her nostrils, and took a seat in one of the booths near the door.
Looking around she shuddered, the eerie atmosphere sending chills down her spine. As the elderly bartender—who Lily noticed was missing an eye and a leg—hobbled over to her, she suddenly felt that her presence in the grungy bar was a bad idea...
"What'll it be?" the dirty wizard croaked, throwing a mottled menu onto the table before her.
Lily gulped and opened the menu, trying to pick out a non-alcoholic drink she recognized. Looking up from the drink list, she realized all the occupants of the bar—some of whom had their faces covered by hoods—had turned to look at her.
"I'll have the...er...pumpkin juice," Lily ordered nervously, the bartender making a gruff noise in acknowledgment and limping back over to the bar.
Lily set her bag down and drummed her fingers on the table, careful not to meet the gaze of a particular hooded individual that had taken it upon himself to blatantly stare at her...
"Are you lost, my lady?" a debonair voice sounded from across the table, causing Lily to jump as she averted her eyes from her hands and looked up into the face of a pale, amber-haired man with crimson eyes.
"No," Lily retorted mechanically, though she was unable to mask the terror that shone in her eyes when she took in his deviant expression.
The man smirked in response, baring two prickly fangs that made Lily unnaturally squeak.
"This isn't a fancy enough establishment for a...supple young lady like yourself," the stranger said smoothly, grabbing Lily's hand from across the table and flashing her a charming smile; she immediately tried to twist away, but the man's grasp was extraordinarily tight. "Let me take you somewhere worth your while..."
"No, thank you," Lily hissed, still struggling to wriggle out of the man's hold.
He laughed deeply, seemingly enjoying her resistance. "Ah, but I insist."
"I demand you let me go of me at once!" Lily ordered fiercely, fear coursing through her whole body as her survival instincts began to kick in. She looked around the bar, hoping someone would step in to help her, but found everyone had conveniently left; even the hooded figure had disappeared.
"Now, don't be impolite," the figure cooed, his predator-like gaze smirking as she tried to pull away from him. "It's your own fault for coming in her alone, you foolish little society g—"
"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"
Lily yelped as a shower of purple sparks shot by her head and hit the pale man—who she suspected was, in actuality, a vampire—square in the chest. He abruptly retracted his hand from her wrist and fell to the pub floor, his arms and legs rigid against his torso. Lily rose from her seat, shocked, to inspect the state of the stunned vampire, noting his inability to speak or move.
"What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing here?" the sonorous voice of the spell caster exacted angrily, alerting Lily to his presence behind her.
Lily whipped around, expecting to encounter an angry Frank Longbottom, but instead came toe-to-toe with Severus Snape, whose face—which was draped by long black hair—regarded her as if she had just committed a criminal offence.
"I...I...I?" Lily stuttered stupidly, so surprised and horrified to learn her callous school tutor had been the one to save her that she could not form a coherent sentence.
Her stumbling seemed to affirm his belief that she was mental, for without another word, Snape grabbed her arm and her bags and dragged her out of the shabby pub and into the adjacent—equally shabby—alleyway. Lily let him pull her away without complaint, still too dazed by his presence to protest his rough handling.
"Don't you have sense enough not to go into a pub like the Hog's Head unaccompanied?" Snape practically spat at Lily once he'd hidden them down the alley, his eyes a mixture of mystification and subdued anger. Lily blinked up at him, just as bemused by him and his choice of forum.
"Were you the cloaked figure at the bar who was staring at me?" Lily furrowed her brow.
"You're avoiding my question," Snape muttered severely.
"You just avoided mine as well," Lily countered, unable to resist offering up a challenging smile as she found his nature more mysterious than intimidating.
Snape raised an eyebrow at the obstinate girl, confused by how calm she was in the wake of almost being abducted. "Not that it's relevant, but yes. Now answer my question."
Lily leaned up against the wall of the shadowy alley, careful to sidestep a garbage can, and looked out at the distant street, suddenly wondering why Professor Severus Snape had decided to pull her into an alley to talk rather than interrogating her outside the pub.
Strange character...
She didn't quite know how to react to his questions, afraid the truth might betray her disguise, but felt oddly obliged to be honest with him. "Well...I've never been to Hogsmeade before. I just wanted a quiet drink, and the Three Broomsticks looked very busy. I also didn't want to have to wait for someone to escort me...I don't like being ushered around like a child."
Snape looked even more perplexed than before, considering Lily as if she were an oddity. "Regardless, you should be smart enough to know that it isn't safe for a society witch to venture into a run-down bar alone. You're lucky I happened to be there."
Lily frowned, crossing her arms as her temper began to flare. "Are you insinuating I shouldn't be alone because I'm a woman?"
Snape scrunched up his face, mystified as to how she did not realize the obvious. "Yes. You're a young female who can't defend herself and has no one to defend her...and if that weren't enough to attract debauched wizards and creatures, you're wealthy and the relative of Lord Albus Dumbledore. I can't think of anyone with a bigger target on their back as you right now."
Lily's face became red with antagonism. "I would have fought that thing off by myself if you hadn't shown up, I assure you."
Despite himself, Snape chuckled—a deep, soft sound that took Lily completely off guard. "You say you would have fought off a vampire by yourself had I not intervened? Are you well versed in Defense Against the Dark Arts spell work, Lady Rockford?"
"Perhaps I am," Lily bit back. "Why would you immediately assume I wasn't?"
"British witches generally don't learn Defense Against the Dark Arts, Lady Rockford, and I am certain the same goes for witches from Canada," Snape persevered, a superior smirk gracing his thin lips as he crossed his arms. "Surely you're aware of this."
How ridiculous...
"Perhaps if pig-headed men allowed women to be taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, there would not be a stigma attached to young, society witches, like myself, venturing off by themselves," Lily glared assertively at him.
"It is not a matter of being allowed to learn, but an unwillingness to learn," Snape countered, his deep voice resounding in the alley. "Wizards learn defense to protect themselves and their families; there isn't a need for witches to learn."
"Witches deserve the right to defend themselves just as much as wizards do," Lily insisted, not realizing she had bridged the distance between them and was angrily poking Snape in the chest. "If Defense was made available to witches and it was not looked down upon by wizards, I bet many witches would be interested in learning, me being one of them."
Snape eyes widened in mild surprise. "Perhaps you should bring up your grievance with the Headmaster of Hogwarts. You are related to him."
"Maybe I wi—."
"Would you stop prodding me?" Snape cut her off in disdain, finally reaching his boiling point.
Lily removed her hand and took a step back from him, blushing. She inwardly chastised herself for getting worked up by the grumpy wizard; she was obviously doing a very poor job of masquerading as a poised society witch thus far.
As the two lapsed into an awkward silence, neither sure of what to say to the other, Lily had a revelation. "If that pub has a bad reputation, what exactly were you doing there?"
Snape frowned, annoyed by Lily's observation.
"That's none of your business. Now, you should return to the main streets; I can't stand around entertaining you all day," Snape said pointedly, shoving Lily's bag of chocolates into her hand and abruptly turning to plunge deeper into the alleyway.
His hasty attempt at escape surprised Lily. "Wait! Severus?"
Snape stopped, his entire body cringing as if she had cursed at him. He looked over his shoulder, glaring at the girl. "What?"
Lily gulped, bewildered by the fresh hostility in his voice. "I...I just wanted to thank you for helping me from that vampire...I suppose I'll be seeing you later today?"
Snape paused, making cursory eye contact with Lily before he nodded and disappeared into the blackness of the brick lane, his cloak swirling in his wake.
Lily clutched at her sides and headed back to the main street; she didn't even want to think how angry Frank was going to be with her.
Four hours had passes, but Kingsley, Moody and Dumbledore did not return.
Sirius sat alone in his wheelchair in the middle of the Great Hall, waiting for word that James had been found. He almost wanted to laugh, knowing James wouldn't be found as he'd likely transformed into his animagus form and taken off into the Forbidden Forest. As Dumbledore and the other Order members were unaware both of them were animagi, Sirius surmised James would go undetected.
He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes, feeling his worst fears had been confirmed. He understood James Potter better than anybody in the world: only the destruction of something or someone he truly loved could move him to act so wildly.
Found kneeling in the ruins of London...nearly catatonic...won't tell anyone what's troubling him...trying to escape from his friends, his responsibility, his world...
James Potter did not bestow love easily, mostly because he wasn't conditioned to do so by his parents—who instead hardened him into becoming the strong and formidable heir to the Potter fortune—and because he did not want to open himself up to pain; yet, James Potter did love. He had a love of Hogwarts, a love of his country, and, more broadly, a love of magic—all of which he would proudly and ardently fight for. However, Sirius knew James would, above all, fight for the people he loved: Justine Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, himself, and Lily Evans.
I can count the number of people he loves on one hand…
Sirius knew James was refusing to speak with Order members and making attempts to escape from his respected peers and friends not because something had happened to his sister or to the other Marauders, but because something had happened to his newest love, Lily Evans.
He's trying to run away from her death…their memories together. He can't handle being around people, distractions…he must want to mourn her in peace…to come to terms with her passing alone…
Sirius couldn't be sure where James had gone, or how long he'd stay away to recover from the loss of Lily Evans, but he knew he'd have to give his best friend time. Sirius knew of a few of James' favourite hide-outs, but he wouldn't tell the Order of them. He'd eventually seek out James, or James would contact him, but Sirius knew it wouldn't be for a while. James wanted peace...needed time to recover; Sirius would give him that.
"I promise you James, you will see her again."
Sirius flinched, his broken promise a torture.
Author's Notes
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