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.: Chapter Ten: Hogsmeade :.

"They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered." – F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise.

Marlene woke early on the day of November thirteenth. It was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and, on these days, Marlene was known to hold her friends up when it came to getting ready as she often slept in. As she forced herself out of bed, she glanced out the window. Overnight, a light dusting of snow had blanketed the grounds, so the trees and the roof of Hagrid's hut looked as though they were wearing white fluffy hats.

Marlene quietly ducked into the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would ease her aching muscles. The residual aches in her wrist from the break she had sustained in the past week's match were nothing more than phantom pain, but she had really messed up her ligaments when she had continued to play after she knew she'd broken it.

It wasn't just that though—the rest of her body was protesting her every move as well. Despite the fact that they had won the match against Slytherin, James had been working his team into the ground. Marlene understood where he was coming from, even if she dreaded the practices when they came around. Their team had been a complete mess in the first half of the game, and they never really managed to get back up to their usual level of play. The score had been too close, and it put too much pressure on Elizabeth to catch the Snitch. At least it was the first match of the season, and they had the rest of the year to improve. She hoped that James would lighten up soon and let go of some of the tension that had taken up residence in his shoulder blades.

Marlene was almost tempted to lock him in a broom closet with someone, or goad him into a fight. Either one would help him.

Marlene, knowing how early it was and how much time she'd given herself, took her time in the shower. By the time she was dried and dressed, all her other dorm mates were up and around. Lily, of course, was still dead to the world, but she was an expert at getting ready in two seconds flat so Marlene wasn't worried about her. Ailana was still bleary-eyed in her bed, wrapped up in her covers and looking as if she had no immediate plans to move.

"Are we heading down to Hogsmeade together?" Marlene asked. "Or do any of you have plans of your own?"

"I know Alice is meeting up with Frank later in the day, but she promised to meet in the Great Hall and head to the village with us," Emmeline informed.

"And I think the only other one with plans is Mary," Ailana added, still cocooned in her blankets. "Speaking of, where did she get off to?"

"I'm not sure," Marlene responded, looking around. "She must have snuck out while I was in the shower because she was here earlier. She's probably with Simon already, though—I know they wanted to get an early start on the day."

Marlene collapsed back onto her bed, keeping her feet planted on the floor. She eyed Mary's pristine desk and neatly arranged four-poster, surprised that her friend had left the dormitory on her own. Mary was surprisingly okay in the wake of her attack, all things considered. After the first few days of increased anxiety, erratic sleeping patterns, and an inability to sleep alone in her own bed, Mary had calmed down a little. Emmeline still slept in Mary's bed if it had been a particularly bad day, but Mary hadn't made her bed yesterday and she didn't say one word about the glob of toothpaste someone had accidently left in the sink—neither action seeming to phase her at all. The fact that she still couldn't remember who had attacked her was disconcerting, but they just move about in pairs now. It increases the paranoia a little, always having to be conscious of whether or not you're accompanied by a friend, but it's infinitely better than being caught unawares.

Marlene is slightly suspicious of Kass, though. She knows that he was the one who rushed Mary to the hospital wing, and that the adrenaline and the confusion in the heat of the moment must have been outrageous, but you'd think that something about the attackers would register. Maybe just the colors of their robes or if they had black hair or blond hair—the sound of their voices had to of resonated somewhat. Whatever Marlene thought, however, didn't really matter. Sure she could voice her concerns, but who is she to disrupt the happiness of a friend, especially if said friend is traumatized? And finding comfort in her new boyfriend? Simon had really been helping her these past few days—walking her to classes, studying with her late into the night, and even sitting at the Gryffindor table to eat lunch with her…

Marlene let it go.

.:..:.

After Ailana had dragged herself from her bed and forcibly pulled Lily into the bathroom with her so they could get ready, the four of them headed out. They didn't usually sit down for breakfast on Hogsmeade days because of how much food they ate in the village, but they still popped in to snag a few pieces of toast and some tea from the Great Hall before making their way down the snowy path.

Marlene loved winter. Everything about the season made her happy, and it was her favorite time of the year. Besides the fact that her birthday is on the fifteenth of December, there are other things that she loves: warm and baggy clothes, the promise of Christmas, her older brother coming home from wherever he is that particular month to spend the holidays with her, and the passing of another year.

And a new year means new beginnings, right?

Marlene and the girls started their routine of hitting all the usual stores; Lily liked to frequent the bookshop, Alice and Emmeline enjoyed Honeydukes, and Ailana never passed up the chance for Zonko's Joke Shop. Marlene was content to follow them around, not caring what order they went to the shops in or even if they bypassed one entirely, as long as they always sat down in the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer before traipsing back to the castle.

The shopping went quickly this time around, the nipping weather pushing them along and forcing them to seek shelter. It wasn't even half-twelve when they were pushing open the door to the Three Broomsticks, the smell of ginger, fried food, and alcohol washing over Marlene and clouding her in a swell of contentment. She spotted the Marauders in the big corner booth at the back of the restaurant, and Ailana made a beeline for them. Marlene deflated only a little when she didn't spot Sirius among them. No matter. Instead of following her friends, though, she broke off to the bar to order their drinks and Lily's customary bowl of chips.

Madam Rosmerta, whose piercing eyes and perpetually messy curly hair did weird things to her insides, took her order with a smile despite her stuttering.

"She's hard to talk to, isn't she?" someone commented to her right. "Too pretty for her own good, I'd say."

Marlene turned to see Andrew Baskard seated on the barstool next to her, picking his way through what was left of a sandwich. Andrew was a sixth year Ravenclaw that usually irritated everyone around him, her included. He always looked distinctly disheveled, yet not in the sexy way that James managed to pull off—but rather in the boyish, yet to grow into his ears type of messy. It made him look deceptively innocent and managed to make him look approachable. That is, until he either opened his mouth or stood up. Andrew's voice was a deep baritone, his comments usually ranging on derogatory, and his height rivaled that of Remus Lupin, who was like a human skyscraper.

"She's really successful though," Marlene responded, wanting to come to Rosmerta's defense. "And her being pretty has nothing to do with it."

Andrew harrumphed loudly. Gods he irritated her. Before she knew it, words were spewing out of her mouth. "I don't see you with plans to do anything productive after Hogwarts," she began. "You're not exactly the most charming person anyone's ever met, so you've got a lot to make up for. Rosmerta obviously lives very comfortably if the rooms here are any indication, and she's always happy. Who are you to diminish her accomplishments because she's pretty? Plus, she's super nice."

"Being nice is overrated," he replied, seemingly ignoring all her other anxiety fueled points. "I'd rather tell the hard truth than be nice."

"That's why you have no friends," Marlene sniped, leaning over the bar and hoping Rosmerta would hurry.

"I have no friends because, as you said, I'm not very charming," Andrew replied. "Thanks for that by the way, that was nice of you."

Marlene kept her head turned away from him and willed herself to calm down, hating the hot feeling she got when blood rushed to her face. She was nice. What did he know? She let out a huge breath of air and shoved her hands in her pockets to force them to stop shaking.

"Listen," Andrew sighed. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. I offend people, it's what I do and apparently I'm really good at it. People usually leave me alone, which sucks, really, so I say aggravating shit to get people to pay attention to me."

"Not the best strategy, is it?" Marlene asked, holding back a sneer for the first time in her life. She didn't sneer. "You could try being polite and just, you know, talking to somebody. Be interested in learning about someone other than yourself for a change. Ask questions, or something."

"Questions, hmm?" Andrew mused.

Marlene nodded, looking back at him. She was wary of the glint that he had in his eyes, and the appraising once over that he gave her made her cheeks flush in embarrassment rather than anxiety. She quickly turned away again to check on the drinks she'd ordered, and just to look anywhere other than at Andrew-bloody-Baskard. Rosmerta had three Butterbeers on a tray and was filling a fourth. Marlene hoped her telepathic waves of panic were reaching the barmaid.

"I have a question for you, then, Marlene," Andrew stated.

"I meant other people when I said that," Marlene mumbled.

Hurry, hurry, hurry, Marlene willed. Please, Rosmerta.

"Well, I don't want to ask other people," Andrew responded, his voice scathing. "I want to ask you, you wretch."

Marlene made blessed eye contact with Rosmerta, who was carrying a full tray of drinks and one order of chips.

"Will you go out with me?" Andrew asked. "Next Saturday at seven?"

Marlene had just handed Madam Rosmerta thirteen sickles when she replied. "No."

"No?" he exclaimed.

"Did you expect a different answer?" she asked. "You just called me a wretch right before you asked."

Marlene couldn't help the traitorous thought that ran through her mind, though. It was fueled by her lack of self-confidence, and she knew she was being a particular brand of depressing. At least someone had noticed you, the niggling thought said. Of all the things that could have spewed out of his mouth, she hadn't been expecting him to ask her that. People didn't just ask her out. She wasn't an idiot, though. Andrew Baskard was one of the last people she'd ever agree to go on a date with.

"Come on," Andrew whined. "I didn't mean it."

"Well, I meant it," Marlene reiterated, sounding more confident than she felt. "I don't want to go out with you, Andrew. Now, if you'll excuse me, my friends are waiting for me and their drinks."

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Severus was tired. He had been up till all hours last night working on his potions essay and the lack of sleep was catching up to him. He was excited though, which was way more unusual than his sleeplessness. Since even before he and Lily had fallen out, when they'd been seeing less and less of each other and were constantly saying things they shouldn't, Hogsmeade trips had bade no change of routine for him. Today was different, though.

Today he was meeting with someone… higher up on the chain than he was to provide them an update on his progress. Despite the fact that he was treated no better than a naïve first year most of the time, being recruited for this mission was something he was proud to be a part of. He'd been even prouder of his decision to help them ever since he'd realized that Lily had very obviously chosen Potter and his friends over him.

The others were going to be there too, reporting their information as well, but Severus was focused on himself. Mulciber and Avery were walking a few feet in front of him, their heads bent together so they could talk quietly after he had made no move to participate in any of their asinine conversations. Severus needed to gather his thoughts anyway.

Today was big.

Bigger than any of the other so-called meetings—which were really annoying formalities that wasted his time—from over the summer.

Even though Severus was still in school, a fact that never failed to be brought up, he was still a better potions maker than most. He was very good at tweaking potions and making them stronger, or weakening them enough to where they presented as the same, but had no function. The insane amount of hours that he spent in the potions lab everyday gave him plenty of time to perfect his craft.

He'd been asked to research the Death Cap Draught and experiment on the potion's properties. Severus had spared only a few minutes' thought to the… darkness of this potion before doing as he was told. It didn't take him long to decide that he wanted to expand on this particular potion and see how it could be used in larger capacities. Severus had been agonizing over this task since August and it now dominated every waking hour at school, pushing his N.E.W.T.'s, his social life, and everything else to the background. This was one of the most difficult potions that he'd ever brewed, and even getting it correct on his first try had surprised him. Finally, he'd had a breakthrough. He found out a week ago that if you doubled the amount of Belladonna and added another clockwise stir, then the potion became more potent and a smaller dose could be used. He'd given himself two days rest as a reward before he went over his conclusion and attempted to recreate the results.

He had almost whooped for joy when he confirmed his results. The potion takes over a month to brew while only yielding a small amount, and as it has to be administered in large doses, the supply never lasted long. A small dose just gives the unlucky person a nasty stomach virus, so this was a huge win. This breakthrough meant that they could increase their supply without having to double their potion brewing efforts.

Severus and their companions had made it to the village and they were cutting across High Street. Mulciber looked back at him and nodded once. As one, the three of them collectively pulled up the hoods of their cloaks and ducked down a side alley. To ensure that they weren't being followed, Avery cast a hex on the alley entrance before they continued on their way to the meeting place. They walked quickly, eager to be out of sight of anyone watching from the windows.

In five minutes' time, they were pushing open the door to a grungy little pub. Both Avery and Mulciber stepped back and forced him to step over the threshold first.

Cowards, he thought.

Severus bypassed the few tables closest to the door, and the moderately occupied bar, searching for a table in the back. It was easy to spot where to go. There were two people already seated at the table, and they couldn't look any less interested in each other if they tried. The tallest man had his long silver hair tied back with leather, and his hand rested on an ornately carved cane that just screamed money. He was tall and elegant looking—if extremely ostentatious—and everything about him irritated Severus. He lounged arrogantly in his chair, looking exactly like the stuck-up ponce that Severus knew him to be. It was exhausting to be in the same room as him. Severus was disappointed to see him sitting there because relaying messages to the Dark Lord through Lucius Malfoy, of all people, was a real let down.

The other bloke had his back to Severus, but it was easy to place his identity. He was still wearing his Ravenclaw scarf, and he twirled a tumbler of what looked like Firewhiskey in his right hand. The dim light of the pub glanced off his signet ring.

Simon Kass.

"Snape, Mulciber, Avery," Lucius acknowledged, nodding to each of them in turn and casting a muffliato charm around their table. "Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence."

Severus didn't respond just as Lucius didn't expect a response.

"Can we get to it?" Simon asked, sighing as he did so. "MacDonald roped me into a day in Hogsmeade and if I'm not back at a reasonable time then she'll freak out. I'm not exactly in a mood where I want to clean that mess up."

"Ahh yes, the Mudblood," Avery drawled as he took out a handkerchief and cleaned off the dirty tabletop with a disdainful look. "You wouldn't happen to worry about upsetting the thing, would you?"

"You know very well what I'm worried about, Avery," Simon snapped.

"Have you not gotten into her knickers yet?" Mulciber sneered, making a rude gesture with his hips. "Don't want to piss 'er off before you've done the deed, huh?"

"I'd never fucking shag her," Simon drawled, seemingly unconcerned. "Wouldn't want to contaminate my gene pool if there were an… accident."

His gene pool? Severus internally groaned. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?

If Severus were being honest, Simon grated on him even worse than Lucius did. At least he could tell that Lucius was a prat as soon as he'd laid eyes on him. Simon was a different story. Everything about him was normal until he opened his mouth and pure shit began spewing out. Granted, it took all of two minutes for Severus to store him firmly in the 'useless' category, but he gave off an air that he knew everything.

"Are you fools ready?" Lucius asked sardonically. "Or are you going to continue acting like schoolboys?"

"By all means," Severus said, finally seating himself in one of the open chairs. "Begin."

"Well," Lucius steepled his fingers, "we are aware of your limited positions inside of the school. We know that there is only so much that you can contribute to the cause while confined to the tedious nature of classes and the like. However, you were still given small assignments to prove your eagerness. Have you completed these tasks?"

Simon spoke first. "I've managed to get an in with a Mudblood named Mary MacDonald. Her lot is… close to Dumbledore and they'd be the first he'd turn to for new recruits on his end. My involvement with MacDonald could hold some sway at the end. From what I gather, her friends would do anything for each other, including paying a hefty ransom if need be."

"They're school kids," Lucius drawled. "Where would they get the money for a ransom, hmm?"

"Well her friends happen to include the McKinnons, the Potters, and the Blacks," Simon added, looking like a cat who got the cream.

"Admirable effort," Lucius drawled, not looking impressed in the least. Simon's smile stayed firmly in place, but Severus almost grinned at the annoyance that shone from his eyes. "First, Potter won't help the cause, so that's a wasted effort. His parents are too close to the straight and narrow, and they've apparently been friendly with that loon of a Headmaster since Medieval times."

"But–" Simon began.

"And," Lucius urged, "Black is, apparently, about to be disowned by his family, so he'll be of no help either. Funds, or lack thereof, are not the problem, anyway. Many of the old families are dedicated to our cause."

Simon's smile had fallen from his face and some, admittedly, quite large part of Severus felt immense satisfaction at this fact. Before he could gloat too much, Mulciber cut in.

"We've gotten a little further than that, though," Mulciber said, nudging Avery. "We've sent a number of Mudbloods to the hospital wing, even one to St. Mungo's."

"It's isolation that we're aiming for," Avery continued, leaning back in his chair with ease. "If we can target the people who associate with Mudbloods, then we can strip them of any support. It might be a long process, but the end result would open up a whole bunch of opportunities."

"Elaborate," Lucius said.

"If they have no support system, then we can nab 'em once they leave Hogwarts. Or make them drop out of school all together. They shouldn't be there in the first place, so this is a temporary solution until legislation can be passed." Mulciber finished.

"And," Simon said, looking eager to rejoin the conversation, "we can use my connection with MacDonald to help move this along. Her whole group consists of Blood-Traitors and Mudbloods. They're also easily the most vocal about 'equal rights' and all that shit."

Lucius was quiet for a minute and Severus watched the tension build between his three classmates. It almost, almost, made him feel sorry for them. Their idea was small, insignificant, and the overall impact that they'd make was even smaller. Weirdly, Lucius seemed to actually be considering what they'd said.

"You don't seem to be as useless as I initially thought," Lucius finally mused. "Severus, what have you managed to do with your potion?"

"I've made progress," Severus replied. "I've managed to increase the potency, which allows us to use it in smaller doses, and I've extended its shelf life. It won't have to be brewed as much, and the supply will last longer."

"That's it?" Lucius asked, raising an eyebrow. Simon snorted into his drink.

"Do you understand potion brewing at all?" Severus asked, his voice mocking. "There's only so much that you can do to modify a potion before it's no longer the same potion. I'll obviously keep working on it, but this is already great news. You can tell him what I've told you, and he'll acknowledge this is an accomplishment because you seem to use this potion a lot. As I understand it, he's a great potions master as well, so maybe I'd hold off on your scolding of me 'till you speak with him."

Outwardly, Lucius remained unaffected but his fingers had stopped their incessant tapping on the top of his walking stick. "It's your funeral," he said.

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing he'd already pushed his luck.

"We've already been here for too long, so let's wrap it up," Lucius said, pushing four separate letters across the table. "For the next few months, I want you to try and recruit some new members. There are specific names for each of you on this list, but you can deviate if there are other interested parties. Overall, the younger they are, the better it'll be. They're more impressionable that way. Severus, continue with your work, and branch out to other potions as well. Keep your eyes open for more letters. We've got another assignment in the works. In the meantime, continue with what you're doing."

Without another word, Lucius stood up and swept from the pub. Mulciber shoved Avery excitedly and laughed, but Avery just shook out his hair and adjusted his cufflinks, smirking slightly but otherwise ignoring Mulciber entirely. Simon nodded once to himself and Severus watched him walk to the bar. He ordered another Firewhiskey, downed it in one go, and then left the pub with a swish of his robes.

Severus sighed before following his example.

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Mary was slouched down in a booth in the Three Broomsticks, Emmeline's arm wrapped comfortably around her shoulders. The presence of her friends and their raucous laughter eased some of the tension from her back, and she'd been leaning on Emmeline's shoulder since she sat down over an hour ago. Her morning had been long—and, if she were being honest, boring and utterly uneventful.

James, Remus, and Peter sat across from her and they've been cracking jokes since she walked in. They were noticeably tamer in their content at the moment, and Mary attributed it to Sirius's absence. James had refused to say where his best friend had gone off to, making different excuses every time someone asked about it. Mary had the distinct impression that he didn't actually know where Sirius has gone. Remus, on the other hand, was completely quiet on the issue which led Mary to believe that he knew exactly where Sirius was, but was sworn to secrecy. Alice was missing as well, off doing Godric knows what with Frank, but Marlene, Lily and Ailana were all seated around her.

Mary had spent her morning with Simon, even walking down to the Great Hall alone for the first time since she was attacked so they could get an early start. They had walked down High Street, hand in hand, and dipped into the occasional shop. His attitude, however, had left something to be desired. Mary has had enough to deal with lately, and she was looking forward to a cozy date with her boyfriend. Mary recalled her morning with only a little bit of resentment.

.:..:.

After Mary heard Marlene slip into the shower, she dressed quickly and left the room. Her small purse with her pocket money was slung over her shoulder and she clutched it tightly on the way to the Great Hall, nervous to turn around corners. Simon had told her that he'd wished to begin their day early, and Mary was happy to oblige him. Plus, she hated that all her friends skipped breakfast on Hogsmeade visits when weekend food at Hogwarts was always the best. Not having to rush off to a lesson made enjoying her ham and eggs much more delightful.

There were only a few people in the Great Hall when she arrived because all the sane people had yet to leave their dormitories. She scanned the room for Simon, but he was still absent, so she sat down alone at the end of the Gryffindor table.

Mary, like everyday since the attack, ate her breakfast with her head bowed and her mind whirring. This was her first time eating alone since it all went down and it was honestly slightly disconcerting. The absence of her friends inane chatter and their moody morning jokes was felt keenly. She was frightened of what her subconscious would drag up in the wake of all this silence. On the upside, it was only when she was awake that the bad memories seemed to resurface. At night, both her insomnia and her nightmares were gone in the wake of the Dreamless Sleep potion that Madam Pomfrey had prescribed her after five days of walking around the castle as if she were one of the ghosts. Life was moving on and Mary was getting dragged along with it.

Simon walked in ten minutes later and gave her a smile—a dopey smile that made her smile too. He sat down next to her and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek. He didn't speak and he watched her finish her breakfast in silence. He was apparently one of the people that didn't eat breakfast on the weekends either. Mary stood up and he still stayed silent, even after she smiled and forced out a cheerful "Good morning."

They were halfway down the path when Mary thought that something must be wrong. He'd yet to say anything to her, even if he'd grabbed her hand and adjusted her scarf for her. She was going to wait him out, wanting him to be the next to speak, lest she fill the silence with useless words.

Finally, when they were officially on High Street, he asked, "How are you, Mary?"

Mary knew the question was coming. It was the first thing out of everybody's mouths when they saw her these days. His inquiry seemed a little forced, though—almost as if he knew it was silly to ask.

"I'm fine," she responded automatically. "I wish people would stop asking me that and drudging the whole thing up again. It happened, it sucked, and I don't wanna talk about it anymore."

"Fair enough," Simon responded easily. "Is there anything specific you want to do today?"

"Well, realistically, I need a few more quills," Mary said, laughing. "Mine have all broke, but I also just want to spend the day with you."

"What I'm about to say might just put a damper on that last bit," he sighed. "I apologize in advance."

"What's up?" she asked, dreading the answer a little.

"Well I've got to leave you in a few," Simon said, not making eye contact with her. "I've some business that I've to take care of. It hopefully shouldn't take too long, so I'll head out when you nip into Scrivenshaft's. Then we can meet back up again in the Three Broomsticks—spend the rest of the day together. Does that sound okay? I know I sort of sprung this on you."

Mary, slightly surprised but not yet upset, shook her head. "No, that's fine. How long 'till you have to… do whatever you have to do? What do you have to do?"

"I've still got a solid hour and a half to spend with you, two if we're lucky," Simon replied, smiling. "And it's nothing you've got to concern yourself with. Family stuff. It's just tedious and boring, otherwise I would've asked you to come with me."

"As long as it's not anything that'll worry you," Mary said. "You've been stressed lately, and I don't want you to overexert yourself."

His thin smile worried her, so she reached up to brush a lock of his hair out of his eyes. There was a slight twitch to his fingers that told her he wasn't telling the truth when he finally said, "There's nothing to worry about."

.:..:.

When they had reached Scrivenshaft's, they went their separate ways and Mary watched as Simon ducked down a side alley a little way up the road. They had spoken rarely after that, and when they did, Simon was short with her. Mary was happy to have a small break from the horrid silence so she'd taken her time inside the store. She walked quickly towards the Three Broomsticks afterwards, though, nervous about being all alone out in the open. Simon must really have had a lot on his mind because he knew being on her own still freaked her out. Before Mary had begun to worry too much, though, she was pushing open the door to the Three Broomsticks. Simon still wasn't there, despite her twenty-five minute search for quills.

It had been so long now that she suspected he wasn't going to come back and she reasoned that she was likely on her own for the rest of the day. Just because he had been driving her a little nuts, didn't mean that she didn't want to see him again today. It was mildly upsetting in her opinion. More than mildly, actually, as she had slipped into the loo for a quick cry after the first hour of waiting.

"Where's our resident wanna-be punk rocker?" Ailana asked, drawing Mary from her self-pity and anger. She was the fifth person to ask this question, but in her defense she'd been absent for the first three and deep in conversation with Marlene for the fourth.

"Sirius would resent that statement, Ails," Remus said, using the nickname that only he was allowed to say.

"Yes, he would," James confirmed. "He prefers to be called a punctual rocker."

"He really does hate when people aren't on time for things," Peter added, nodding solemnly as if any part of this conversation has made sense.

Ailana huffed. "Where's Sirius?"

"Off doing Merlin knows what," James sighed. "I heard him mumble something about a girl, but that's all I'm at liberty to say."

"I'm sure we'll all hear about what he's been up to when he comes bursting into the common room at midnight," Peter said, sipping his Butterbeer.

"Yeah," James said, a wicked glint to his eyes. "I'm sure we'll hear all about his come bursting–"

"No," Lily interrupted harshly. "Don't you dare finish that sentence, Potter."

"But that was a good joke!" Ailana laughed.

"It was a crude joke," Lily said. "Way too crude for Sirius not to be here to back you up."

"Would you like to hear a fun and normal joke, then, Evans?" James asked. "I've been thinking up an arsenal of them."

"He really has," Peter added. "He scribbled two of 'em onto my Transfiguration notes, and another on my Charms homework."

Lily laughed, but it was Emmeline who responded with an affirmative, "Yes, please."

Mary was smiling, but she wasn't the only one. If Mary were the type of person to tease someone, and if she didn't know how much this particular brand of teasing wore on Lily, she would tease her friend for the way she was looking at James right now. Mary didn't think that Lily even realized that she was doing it, but her eyes were glazed and they were constantly darting from James's hair to his hands, which were wrapped around his Butterbeer glass. Lily was such a fucking goner.

"What do you call a group of unorganized cats?" James asked, looking directly at Lily and grinning. "A cat-astrophe."

Lily snorted and chortled out, "That was horrible." The smile on her face said otherwise, though. Lily was shaking her head and rolling her eyes fondly. James stuttered over his words for a second and ran a hand through his black hair.

"That's what you get if you want a normal joke," James said, indignant. "And besides, that was funny. I don't care what any of you tossers have to say about it."

In Mary's opinion, he cared very much about what Lily thought of his joke. When Lily laughed at his response, he ducked his head. He was smiling at his hands and twirling his glass when Emmeline picked up the conversation. Mary watched them, growing more annoyed with her boyfriend the longer she witnessed their particular shy form of flirting. Eventually, she made eye contact with Remus across the table and they both shook their heads.


i'm so sorry for the long wait in between chapters, life has caught up with me this past month. i hope the wait was worth it!

so, the death cap draught is a real potion (apparently), but who knows what the hell goes in it lol. pure speculation on my part. surprisingly, my favorite part about this chapter is snape's pov. i really like the way his internal monologue turned out, hope you guys do too.

thanks so much for reading, drop me a review full of your thoughts :))