Chapter Twenty-Four: Regulus Black and the Ice Cream Float

Sirius's attempt at snogging Hermione Granger for real, (and not just some peck that he barely felt) was going poorly.

"Potter! Black!" Minnie screamed at them at breakfast two mornings after his birthday party, the first occasion he'd gotten to corner Granger since the false threesome incident. "Explain yourselves!"

James turned a winning smile to their professor, even as their eardrums rang.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall?" he asked, "explain ourselves? Well, when a wizard and witch love each other very much, they give each other a special hug, and then nine months later–"

"Ten months," Granger muttered, the first thing she'd said since she'd shoved a book between herself and Sirius at the table when he'd sat down next to her alongside with his mates, "nine months is fallacious."

"A stork brings a baby in a sling, and then that baby–"

"Where are the Slytherins?" McGonagall boomed, even louder.

"Good question," James said, "personally, I prefer asking 'why does Slytherin even exist, when it's a house of bigots and imbeciles', but–"

The tiniest of smiles twitched on Granger's mouth. Sirius felt the phantom press of lips covered in black lipstick. He remembered the feel of her body on top of his in his bed. Remus's weight had pressed her into every part of his flesh. Well fuck. Now he couldn't get up from the table for a while. It was like going through puberty again. Once had been painful enough. The four of them had spent most of the year hobbling around half hunched forward, not even looking at girls for fear of exploding tents being pitched in trousers.

"You are head boy, Potter," McGonagall said, her voice low as the nearby yawning Gryffindors glance at them, used to their head of house yelling at James and Sirius and barely paying attention, "I expected more of you. I expected these pranks to cease!"

"I expected students to get expelled for attacking other students and kidnapping them," Granger said unexpectedly, "so we're all disappointed, aren't we Professor?"

Sirius turned from where his hand had been twitching in his lap, fighting the urge to pull down Granger's book and demand she pay attention to him and talk to him and maybe snog him in a dark corridor somewhere so he could prove to her a kiss from him should not end with her looking disgusted. Minnie's mouth was so thin it looked like a mail slot.

"I hope you know I did everything in my power to get those students punished, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, "but I was overruled."

"So why do you care where the Slytherins are?" Granger said, putting down the book to give her attention to someone who wasn't Sirius, blast it all. "Maybe they're all asleep. It's early yet. Black, do you mind? If you inch any closer you're going to climb into my lap, and I've had it to here with your stalkers trying to kill me the last few days. I don't fancy spending the rest of the year getting private lessons with Uncle Al so I don't get turned into a centipede."

"Is that where you were?" Sirius asked, scooting back a little on the bench at McGonagall's severe look, "the past few days? I've been trying to–"

"As for that," McGonagall said, her voice even lower, as Fawcett strained to hear them while eating her eggs, "I spoke to Mr. Lupin, as he is by far the poorest liar and least likely to try to deceive me out of you three, and he assured me that the rumors I heard of an…inappropriate dalliance in the boys dorms…" She trailed off. Clearly McGonagall was about to combust from the horror of having to talk about three of her students being caught in one tiny bed together, groping each other and clothes half off.

"Yes?" Sirius needled, batting his eyes, "what rumors? I hadn't heard any, Professor."

Granger glared at him. "it's your fault," she said, "if you hadn't kissed me, then–"

"Please," McGonagall said, looking pained, "I really don't want to know–"

"If you had gone with me for a walk like I wanted," Sirius retorted, scooting closer again, "no one would have seen us kiss, would they?"

Across from them, Pete was watching with his mouth half open, sausage poised to enter. None of the Gryffindors had managed sausages since The Incident the week before. No one except Pete, of course, who had cleared multiple plates at every breakfast by himself. Remus had sunk to the floor some minutes before, his shiny new belt more incriminating to the threesome stores being true than if he'd just covertly repaired the old belt. Sirius understood. He'd burned his dirty pants as well to try to forget Hermione rolling around in them. And if he'd kept his shirt he'd worn when she was on top of him unwashed and bundled in a tiny corner of his trunk because it smelled like the shampoo Granger used, what of it? Maybe he just liked lavender!

"I wouldn't have kissed you," Granger hissed, "even if I'd gone on a walk with you! Arrogant tosspot!"

"You kissed me without a walk," Sirius pointed out, "and–"

"You kissed me!" Granger said, "against my will! Just because I was dressed like a tart because James said you'd like it and paid me–"

"Keep me out of this narrative," James said, eating a bowl full of marmalade like a savage.

"You were flirting," Sirius insisted, "you think I don't know when a girl is flirting with me? I know what you secretly wanted, you were asking me to kiss you–"

"Please," McGonagall said, "I beg you all. This is making me ill."

"Me too," Remus groaned from the floor.

"Buck up," Pete said from around a mouth of sausages to Remus, "everything thinks you're the top in the group now, eh?"

James dropped his marmalade. Granger and Sirius turned, slowly, to Pete.

"The top?" Hermione said slowly, clearly praying for this to be an innocent misunderstanding, "like, the most popular?"

"No no no," Pete said, "you know what I meant. The top. Sexually."

McGonagall groaned, clutching the left side of her chest.

"How did you even learn that term, Pete?" Sirius asked, trying not to laugh at McGonagall and Hermione's pain, both of which were bountiful.

"Playboy," Pete said promptly, "mum sends them to me for the articles. She likes that I'm a scholar. I don't think she notices the boobs for some reason."

"That's it," McGonagall said, grey faced, "I'm done. I'm retiring. I'm putting you all in detention."

"You're destroying your collection of tartan bathrobes," James put in, picking up the marmalade again.

"You're destroying your framed photos of me," Sirius said, fiddling with his tie like an idiot while he watched Granger from under his hair.

"You are eating all your ginger biscuits yourself," Remus put in from the floor.

"You are taking up as a professional Quidditch player like you always wanted," Pete said through more sausages.

"You are turning into a cat permanently," Granger said.

"All of the above," Minnie said. Her mouth had returned. It was trying not to smile. It was more horrifying than if she'd pulled out a whip and smacked Sirius with it on the arse. She turned and marched up to the head table where Dumbledore was chuckling with Flitwick about something or other. Probably some sadistic idea of his, like an inter house unity club where the Gryffindors and Slytherins did trust fall exercises together.

"Good work, best gal pal," James said with enthusiasm, "trading banter with McGonagall while she tries not to slap you and get herself sent to Azkaban for abusing her students? I'm so proud of you!"

"That's right," Sirius said, feeling happy and weird and horny all at once, "you're one of us!"

"I'd hope so, after she shagged Remus and Sirius," Pete snickered.

Remus kicked out from the floor, and Pete went tumbling ass over sausage.

"Where are the Slytherins?" Granger asked, "Black, I told you to stop trying to get up my skirt!"

"I wouldn't do that," Sirius said, wounded, "In public, anyway."

Remus groaned from the floor. Pete had fallen directly on him. Sausages surrounded them and covered them.

"God, how can you still eat these, Pete," Remus moaned. He heaved for a second, then clearly swallowed vomit.

"It's been ages," Pete said, "You all need to get over it!" he plucked a sausage off of Remus's tie and ate it.

"I cannot believe you are this bad at girl stuff," Granger said to Sirius, sputtering, "I thought you had a reputation! About being the charming school heart throb! Emphasis on charming!"

"He does," James assured her, "but see, with his entirely unfair natural gifts he doesn't have to put in effort like the rest of us. He just flicks his hair and shite cause he's lazy."

Sirius flicked his hair with a winning smile. Granger looked at him like he was toe fungus.

"No?" Sirius said, grinning.

He couldn't even be upset at Granger avoiding him, or glaring at him, or Remus dying on the floor while Pete ate sausages off his clothes.

She liked him. He was sure of it. It hadn't been the kiss, or the spell, or the accidental groping, or the black lipstick and fishnets. It had been the way her voice had had that edge when they'd been interrupted by whatsherface while they were by the cake, talking about Reg. That was how he knew. It was going to work out between them, just the way he wanted. Sirius had never had to be patient for a girl before. But he was willing to be patient for the most interesting girl he'd ever met. It shouldn't take long. A few weeks, at most, and he'd be snogging her and more underneath the mistletoe. Maybe he'd even send her a Christmas gift. He'd never given a bird a real gift before, but James seemed to understand what she liked. Maybe he would know what Granger would want as a present. Sirius's smile flickered. God. Was he really planning on asking James for help with girls now?

"No," James informed him, "the hair flick for the first time in history is not working, mate. You looked like a himboed. Not chill."

"Cool," Granger sighed, "James, it's cool. Also, himbo."

"That's what he said," Pete said, crawling back to his precious sausage tray, "say, how long do you think it will take for everyone to find the Slytherins?"

"Hopefully until the end of the year," James said with relish.

"That's how long our detention will be," Remus moaned from the floor.

"Speaking of, I really want to emphasize again the excellent work, best gal pal, on delivering the last blow to scare McGonagall away and getting us out of detention," James said, "a necessary skill to learn. You really are an honorary Marauder now!"

"Oh," Granger said, oddly, "thanks, James. That means a lot. Black, how many times!"

Sirius lurched backward. He hadn't even realized he'd been inching closer. Fuck. He was turning creepy.

"Sorry," he blurted, "don't want to give you James vibes."

"Impossible," James said, "I'm too cool. say, mates, did you hear that we're joining an organization to fight–"

"What happened to the ostrich feathers," Granger asked loudly, Sirius getting the vibe she was trying to shut James up, but what else was new, "and the tutus? Plan A?"

"Oh," James said, flipping through his notebook, "we went with plan L, for losers. More poetic, eh?"

"And you didn't involve me?" Granger demanded, stuffing her book in her bag now.

"We didn't think you'd want to be involved," Remus said from the floor, "Lily didn't."

"That's because James was there," Pete said, "right?" He gave an enormous swallow.

"I believe she said, 'I can't know about any of this' and walked away laughing," Sirius said, "we assumed you'd feel the same, Granger."

"Well I don't," Granger said, "I wanted to help make the Slytherins suffer."

Sirius tried not to inch closer to her again, but fucking hell. Who could blame him after such a sexy statement?

"What was plan L again?"

"Oh, nothing," James gloated, "it will leave you dripping with excitement if I don't explain." He winked.

"Er, what?" Granger said, blanching.

"Don't want to wet your appetite for revenge," James said, winking again, "you'll be soaked with glee when you–"

"James," Sirius said, almost cracking a rib from trying not to laugh, "er, mate. You're using ah. Muggle innuendo by accident again."

"By accident?" Granger said, "oh, thank God."

Remus cackled.

"We left them in the lake," Pete said, a touch too loudly as always, "in their skivvies. The mermaids are like, poking them with tridents and screeching at them."

"It's technically singing," James said, "but still! A song we wrote to taunt Slytherins. You can't understand the words, unfortunately, unless you speak Mermish I suppose, but the sport is still there!"

"Loser, loser-y Slytherins, you loser twats," Pete started singing underneath his breath.

"I see James came up with the lyrics," Granger said.

"Yes, I did," James said, pleased. "The next line is, 'how are you such losers, who don't know squat.'"

"Poetry," Granger said, "pure poetry."

"He's channeling Willy Shakespeare," Sirius agreed, reaching for a piece of toast.

He flicked his hair without thinking about it. Granger watched him out of the corner of her eye. He fought the smile that almost burst onto his face. No. He couldn't do a goofy smile when Granger was finally falling prey to the hair flick. It would undo all of his hard work.
Remus heaved himself to the table finally, face red.

"Can I ask how you managed to get four Slytherins in the lake in their underwear?" Hermione asked, "Hello Remus. Nice to see you upright." Sirius choked on his toast. Pete choked on a sausage. James choked on marmalade, somehow. "I–that's not what I meant," Granger said desperately. "I meant–he was just lying on the floor until right now!"

"And lying on your boobies the other night," Pete murmured, "with his trousers off."

"My trousers were on!" Remus said loudly, "mostly! They were of poor quality and old!" A few nearby Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs turned.

"It was inevitable. You've been doing all those squats to get a huge arse," James nodded.

"I have not!"

"He wasn't on my boobs!" Granger said, even louder, which was true enough. Her boobs had been squashed into Sirius, more's the pity for Remus. More people turned, saw Granger sitting near the Marauders, and poked their friends, whispering.

"It wasn't four Slytherins," Sirius said, for as amusing as this conversation was, if Granger got hoisted to the ceiling again as punishment she'd stop sitting next to him smelling like lavender and watching him push his hair back, "it was all of them."
Hermione paused in her defense of her boobs being on Remus and turned to glance at the suspiciously empty Slytherin table.

"All of them?" she hissed. Everyone nearby leaned closer, clearly thinking they were having another sexy threesome discussion, "even the first years?"

"Guilty by association," James said, "mmm, this is good." He scooped some marmalade on his eggs and ate them with a closed eye look of bliss. Sometimes James was absolutely disgusting.

"James, how did you get approximately four hundred people in the lake in their underpants?" Hermione hissed, even quieter. Up at the head table, McGonagall was holding an iced jar of pumpkin juice to her forehead as Slughorn obliviously ate pastries next to her, seemingly unconcerned or totally unaware of his entire house being missing. Poor Minnie. One day the Marauders might accidentally kill her. Heart not being what it used to be. She had to be what? Forty? Ancient.

"Now it wasn't just him,'' Pete said indignantly, as Granger tried to reach over Sirius to snatch James's notebook.

"If you wanted to cop another feel,'' Sirius said, "all you had to do was–" Remus kicked him under the table. He'd have to thank him later for saving him from the James-ness of his game. God, Granger was making him lose his touch.

Granger flicked through the notebook, presumably looking for plan L.

"You doused them with sleeping gas and removed their clothes with the Nudus Hexius, then got Peeves to help you float their sleeping half naked bodies to the lake?" Granger demanded, "and you didn't involve me?"

"We thought you were as uptight as Evans," Sirius shrugged.

"Hey," James said mildly.

"I used to be," Granger said, staring at the notebook with a frown.

"And you're not now?" Remus asked, "why? For god's sake Pete, how many sausages can you eat!"

"Never enough," Pete said through a mouthful.

"Things change," Granger said cryptically, "did you remember the anti hyperthermia charm so they wouldn't freeze to death?"

"Of course," James said, "what do you take us for?"

"And the bubble head charms, so they don't drown?" Granger demanded.

"Please," Sirius said, "We're better than that. We put them on humiliating floats. Snivelly is on a pink flamingo. Reg is on an ice cream bar. The little shits that tied up James and Evans are on blow up dolls."

Pete giggled.

Over at the Hufflepuff table, Mayfair gave them a subtle thumbs up. Not only had he helped levitate the snoring Slytherins along with Hughes, but he'd provided the password to the Slytherin common room. Who knew the arsehole could be so useful?

The doors to the dining hall banged open. Four Slytherins ran in, dripping wet and still duct taped to inflatable pool toys. Sirius had wanted to tie Reg to the inflatable triangle for maximum emasculation, but it had been smarter to make sure they couldn't be traced to any part of the prank, and everyone had seen Pete playing the inflatable triangle at Sirius's birthday party.

Heath Mulcibur sprinted towards the Marauders, a duct tape blow up doll of a man stuck to him still, bellowing incoherently.

McGonagall, who'd briefly closed her eyes in pain before snapping open stood and shouted at the screaming Slytherins, who'd already knocked over a first year Ravenclaw girl in their sprint for revenge on the Marauders cast the leg locker curse on Mulcibur Junior, who fell over with another shout.

"It's sad to see someone with such anger issues," James sighed.

"You'd think the shame would keep any of them from showing up to breakfast," Sirius said, shaking his head.

"I really had wished they'd gotten caught in the lake," Pete said mournfully, as they watched McGonagall deal with the Slytherins with expressions of feigned confusion and boredom.

They'd find out later that the Slytherins had been discovered and released by a first year Herbology mixed class of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, and the story had spread all over the school in increasingly exaggerated tones. One of the first year Hufflepuffs had had a camera on her for some reason when they'd found the Slytherins. The pictures made it to the hallways, blown up. Reg had been drooling on the inflatable ice Marauders had escaped detention, as no one could tie them officially to the crime. The school had stopped talking about the threeway between Sirius, Remus, and Hermione. Well, they'd at least talked about something else in addition to that. Only four people had tried to hex Granger that day due to the Slytherin excitement taking most everyone's energy. Evans had bestowed a rare look of approval at the Marauders, making James squirm with excitement. And Granger had turned to Sirius and smiled, just for a second, as McGonagall twisted the ear of Heath Mulcibur, dragging him out of the hall, a life sized blow up doll of a man with chest hair drawn on still duct taped to his arse. Life was good. Until Remus went and fucked it all up.

Lily stared at the invitation in her hands, her ears ringing. "Could you repeat that, sir?' she said finally, looking up.

"I said, can I see that, my dear?" the Headmaster said, holding out a hand. Dumbledore pushed a bowl of sweets at her with the other hand. "Trade you?"

Lily handed over the envelope. The snake glittered at her. She wasn't remotely hungry, but she reached out to take a piece of chocolate anyway to give her shaking hands something to do.

Dumbledore took out the invitation that Lily had read a hundred times already. His eyes narrowed behind his half moon spectacles as he read about the Rosier's ball.
"I'm surprised they included the skull," Dumbledore said at last, "that gives a direct tie to Lord Voldemort I thought they were all trying to avoid."

Lily flinched at the name.

"It looks like I was added by someone," Lily said after a moment, "not a part of the original invitation. I guess Regulus. Odd. I didn't take him for arts and crafts." She laughed nervously.

"Still," Dumbledore said, "to tie the Rosiers directly to Lord Voldemort like that…" his eyes gleamed. The portraits behind him watched the pair of them closely. Dumbledore stood up abruptly, walking to his fireplace, then threw in a handful of floo powder.

"Amelia!" he called loudly, "are you there?"

A witch appeared that Lily didn't recognize.

"Albus?" she said, her eyes landing on Lily briefly.

"The Rosier's summer home," Dumbledore said, "eight o'clock on the first of December."

"Understood," the witch said crisply, then disappeared once more.

"Um," Lily said, blinking hard. Had she made a mistake? It felt like a weight had been lifted as soon as she had shown the Headmaster, but now she was second guessing herself.

"You have not made a mistake, Lily," Dumbledore said gently, as he picked up a quill and started writing fast, "I can see you are doubting yourself." The hair raised on her arms. Had Dumbledore just read her mind?

"I didn't know who else to tell," Lily said.

"I'm glad you told me," Dumbledore said as he wrote furiously, "you can trust me, Lily."

A flash indicative of a portkey arriving blinded her temporarily, then a pair of sunglasses fell to the floor and snapped in half.

"Blast," a giant gorgeous man said, from where he'd appeared next to Dumbledore's desk,"I was going to use those. They made me look sexy." He spotted Lily and when they made eye contact, her heart started racing. It was Hermione's blonde beautiful man from Hogsmeade. The one Hermione had said she'd been giving directions to but didn't know. Not that Lily or her friends had believed her.

"Can you no longer do a reparo?" Dumbledore asked mildly, "oh dear. That might be a problem."

"Point taken," the gorgeous man said, still looking at Lily. He picked up the sunglasses. "Reparo!" he placed the portkey in his pocket. "Hello. Who are you?"

"Lily Evans," Lily said, her voice faint.

Maybe she had made a mistake. But she couldn't have taken the invitation to her parents for help. They wouldn't even understand. And if they had, what could a pair of Muggles do against the Dark Lord Voldemort?. McGonagall would tell Dumbledore as soon as Lily told her, so it would've led to the same outcome. Her friends would've told her to tell McGonagall. Potter would've flirted with her and not even read the invitation. Hermione would maybe steal the invitation and then obliviate Lily, and she'd never even remember that Regulus Black had given it to her. Sev might try to go as guest for fun.

"Oh, the Head Girl," the blonde man said, "excellent. Have you talked to Hermione then? And you said yes?"

"Yes to what?'' Lily asked, blinking rapidly. Was it even possible for one man to be this good looking?

"They have not spoken, Caradoc," Dumbledore said delicately.

"Ah," Caradoc said, "well...balls. I guess I have to say it now since I spilled the beans. I already recruited the Head Boy."

"Potter?" Lily blurted.

"You have a big mouth, Caradoc," Dumbledore said, handing over the invitation.

"Guilty," the gorgeous Caradoc said, as he read the invitation, "say, how do you feel about joining the Order of the Phoenix, Head Girl?"

"The Order of the what?" Lily said. This conversation had taken a decidedly strange turn, on every level. Her eyes drifted to Dumbledore's pet phoenix. Fawkes, she thought his name was.

"I told you," Caradoc sighed, "we need a snappier name. Death to Death Eaters, or something. Down with the Dark Lord Moldy Warts. The Order of the Gorgeous Men Named Caradoc. Really has a great ring to it."

"Death to Death Eaters?" Lily repeated. The portraits were watching her. Too closely.

The door behind her banged open unexpectedly, making her jump.

Caradoc shoved the invitation behind his back before he saw who it was.

"Oh," he said, "about time. I thought you'd be here already. I've got places to go, you know. Beautiful people to see. And to see the beauty that is me."

Lily was reminded irresistibly of Sirius Black. Maybe Hermione did secretly have a type.

"Dumbledore," Hermione said loudly, as she sped into the room, clearly ignoring Caradoc out of habit, though Lily didn't know how anything to do with the stunning Caradoc was possible to become a habit, "we've got a problem. He knows about the–'' she stopped immediately upon spotting Lily. "Oh. Lily. I didn't know you were–"

"We do have a problem," Caradoc interrupted, "you've neglected your recruitment. I'm having to do everything for you." He looked pointedly at Lily.

"Oh," Hermione said, "you've joined, Lily?"

"Joined what?" Lily said, "what is going on?" She shoved a piece of candy in her mouth so she wouldn't ask why a giant sexy man had appeared out of thin air to recruit Lily to some organization she'd never heard of.

"The Head Boy has joined," Caradoc repeated, "so maybe that will make you want to join too."

"No it won't," Hermione said, "the opposite, actually."

"I don't exactly want to spend more time with James Potter while he composes poems about my–" Lily stopped herself, turning red.

"Your…?" Caradoc prompted.

"I believe it was most inappropriate," Dumbledore said serenely, "I cannot repeat it, although it did make me laugh quite a lot when Minerva recited it to me."
Lily wanted to die. Sink into the floor into a puddle and cease to exist. McGonagall had actually recited the words "red hair down there" to Dumbledore?!

"Hang on,'' Caradoc said, "Lily? You're the Lily? I didn't comprehend that before, I was too mesmerized by my reflection in one of Dumbledore's golden dohickeys. Well, it all makes sense now. I don't blame you. I'd rather not spend time with old one bicep dolphin notebook if I were you either."
Hermione snickered.

"One bicep dolphin notebook?'' Lily repeated. Perhaps she'd gotten a fever and was having a particularly strange dream right now.

"Old Plastic Sturgeons," Caradoc sighed, "what fun we've had! Or I've had. Spending his money. It's way more fun spending other people's money. Related to that…" he pulled out a scroll from his robe and handed it to Dumbledore, who read it without changing expression.

"Good," Dumbledore said, "very good." He rolled the scroll back up and placed it inside a drawer. "Sit down, Hermione, won't you? Caradoc?"

"Can't," Caradoc said, "I've been sitting watching you know what for hours. My arse, as wonderful as it is, has still gone half numb. I need to stretch a bit." He paced around the office.

"What is the Order of the Phoenix?" Lily tried again, turning to Hermione, who had sat next to her with the same frozen look on her face she'd had since she'd spotted Lily with Dumbledore and Caradoc.

"An order to fight Voldemort," Hermione said, and Lily gasped. "What?"

"You said the name," Lily blurted out, "you said his name!"

She stopped herself from saying how it was the most impressive thing she'd ever heard that Hermione was a teenager in an organization bent on fighting Voldemort. Wait. Had Caradoc said earlier that James Potter was in it, too? Oh no.

"It's just a name," Hermione said, "he hasn't put a taboo on it."

"A what?" Caradoc said, as he rounded the desk for the third time, "something you've heard he's doing? A taboo on the name? What's that all about?"

"Well it's when you say his name, and then–"

"Should we be talking about this," Dumbledore said, "when Miss Evans has not yet agreed to join?"

"She will," Hermione said confidently, "even with James annoying her."

"Yes, I will," Lily said, surprising herself but excited and scared all at once, "can I? You all trust me?"

"Yes,'' Hermione said immediately, and Lily felt a squirm of guilt for when she hadn't trusted Hermione in return in the past. Some friend she was.

"Yes I do, Lily," Dumbledore said, "you brought me the invitation right away, didn't you?"

"I don't trust you," Caradoc said, "But to be fair, I just met you two minutes ago. We can work on my trust issues together. What invitation, Albus?"

"While you were off buying supplies,'' Albus said, "and Hermione was researching for us, Lily was getting invited to a Death Eater party by Regulus Black." He pulled out the invitation again, handing it over to Caradoc.

Hermione slumped in her chair next to Lily.

"Still?" she sighed.

"You can't expect a leopard to change his spots overnight," Dumbledore said sagely.

"Or at all," Caradoc nodded.

"How can I help?" Lily asked, feeling slightly nauseous from that strange mix of fear and excitement, "I want to help."

She was a Gryffindor, yes, but she was a Gryffindor because of her strong moral center. That was what the hat had told Lily when she was getting sorted, and she'd taken it to heart. She'd stood up for the little guy and girl over and over. Told people when they were doing something mean, or wrong. Been the only one to argue with popular people when they were being cruel to unpopular people. But Lily hadn't been the type of Gryffindor who went on adventures. Lily hadn't fought battles. Lily hadn't gone against a Dark Lord. Wasn't it time? Hadn't the hat known that Lily's moral center was unshakable, that she'd always do the right thing?
Hermione smiled at her, weakly. The news about Regulus and the invitation had shaken her.

"Excellent," Dumbledore smiled at Lily, pride in his eyes, "I knew we could count on you."

"I see why Potter's a wee bit obsessed," Caradoc said, pacing again, "at least he has good taste. And money. Lots of money. Did I mention how many spare wands I was able to get with his donation?"

"Was that why you were off with Regulus Black alone all those times?" Lily asked under her breath to Hermione as Dumbledore and Caradoc lightly bantered. "It had nothing to do with flirting…or whatever. That's why you went to the Slytherin party on Halloween?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed, "but it didn't work. Wait, what were you asking? What do you think I was doing?"

"You were trying to sway him," Lily said sadly, "from the Dark Arts."

"Yes," Hermione said again, Looking surprised, "I was. You're very perceptive."

She muttered something under her breath that sounded like 'it must've skipped a generation,' but that couldn't be right. She'd never met Lily's parents. And her parents were very insightful! Mum, anyway.

"But you failed," Caradoc said, scowling, "shame. He's rich too. We could've used his money."

"Sirius Black's got money," Lily blurted, trying desperately to prove how helpful she could be, "maybe he can join?"

"No,'' Hermione said at once, "I mean…I guess. Fine. Whatever. Potter almost told all his mates at breakfast like an idiot, so I suppose it's better if I recruit them."

Caradoc snickered. "I'll enjoy Black trying to intimidate me again over your honor."

"For the last time," Hermione said loudly, "he was not–"

"My great great grandsons will not join the madness," a portrait said, even louder, 'they must live to have heirs and continue the great tradition of the–"

"Thank you, Phineas," Dumbledore said firmly, "and you did fail with the youngest Mr. Black, Hermione."

Hermione's lips thinned. "if you had just let me–"

"But that's fine," Dumbledore said placidly, "more than fine. We've got a much better plan now."

"We do?" Hermione said.

"Lily has joined the Order," Dumbledore said, "she's of age. She wants to help. So she can attend this party with Regulus Black, as his date."

"What?" Lily and Hermione said in unison.

Author's Note: Thank you all for your continued support! I can never put into words how much it means to me.