Chapter Nine: Many a Good Hanging

The alarm went off. Lily rolled over, groaning when memories of the night before assaulted her senses. Damn Potter. Damn him, straight to the bloody fires of hell –

She poked one toe out gingerly out of the blanket. Almost immediately she withdrew it, shuddering. Waking up in winter was horrific. It was six a.m., and the sun had yet to rise. She cursed her lack of foresight in not having placed a dre['ssing gown at the foot of her bed last night.

Well, this was going to be like pulling a splinter out: the faster it was done, the less pain it involved. Lily staggered out of bed and grabbed her wand from the bedside table.

"Accio dressing gown!"

The folded, fluffy white garment zoomed out of her trunk. She snatched it out of the air. Marlene and Arabella were still asleep, so Lily took Marlene's pair of bunny slippers and shuffled to the bathroom.

A shower with the water dial turned to the hottest possible setting did wonders to wake her up. She dried her long scarlet waves with an incantation. No doubt it would be properly styled once she got to Malfoy Manor, so she left it as it was and pulled on her robes as quickly as possible.

Lily walked to the Great Hall for breakfast. The steaming plates of food were all ready, but nobody was up at this hour. She was the sole occupant. As she nursed a mug of hot chocolate, she wondered if Potter and Sirius had already eaten or were yet to come. She suspected the latter.

Ah, Potter. Lily twitched in discomfort at the multitude of emotions his name called up within her. She hated him, she knew she did, and what he had done to her that night was unforgivable. The passing years had only made him crueller. His role in what Rookwood had done made that clear.

And yet... She recalled the curious expression on his face as he had said sometimes, people don't have a choice. Maybe he had a point. She knew Fleamont Potter, had met him on several occasions, and he was even more charismatic, manipulative, and ruthless than his son. That was saying something.

But James Potter's father hadn't forced him to do what he'd done two years ago. That particular bit of sadism had been all him… and Sirius had played his part too, though she tried not to think about that bit. Lily bit into a croissant to combat the faint nausea as a white-hot memory flashed into being.

"Lily?" Potter said, swinging around to face her. Somehow, he had sensed her coming, though her steps had been soundless on the grass. In one glance he took in her raised wand and open mouth. He was faster than she was.

"Stupefy!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Her wand flew out of her grasp, and he caught it one-handed. Lily sucked in a breath. No, no, that wasn't supposed to happen –

He tossed it into the air and caught it again. "I wonder what brings you here tonight," he said conversationally.

She spoke to distract him, eyes all the time on the stick of wood he kept throwing up and catching, showing off his Quidditch reflexes with glib confidence.

"I know what you're planning to do," she said. "And I'm not going to let it happen. In fact –"

She struck, throwing herself at him, trying to snatch her wand out of the air. He wrapped his arms around her waist and let her momentum force them into a pirouette, laughing wildly. His body was hard and warm against hers.

"Lily, Lily, you shouldn't have done that," he said, shaking his head. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to… Incarcerous!"

She screeched in fury as ropes burst out of the tip of his wand and crisscrossed over her wrists, binding them closely. The more she struggled, the tighter they grew. She slumped onto the ground, panting.

"Let me go, Potter!"

He looked down at her, his head tipped to the side. "No," he said. The words were deliberate. A little surprised. "No, I really don't think I will."

At sixteen years old, James Potter was arrogant and handsome, and he walked like he owned the entire world. But darkness was bleeding into his face as he watched her; a feral light grew to glitter in his stare. Fear bolted through Lily. Whatever mask of charming urbanity he usually wore had deserted him tonight, and the monster beneath it looked out through his eyes.

"What are you going to do with her?"

Sirius had slipped over to stand beside him. His pitiless gaze swept over her as she lay at Potter's feet. "She wasn't meant to be here," he added, when Potter said nothing but merely continued to watch her, eyes black with hunger.

Lily bared her teeth in a useless show of defiance.

"Nobody knows she's here," Sirius went on thoughtfully.

Slowly, the boy who wore Potter's skin smiled.

She shook away her thoughts with a sip of scalding chocolate and stood up. What had happened, had happened. There was no need to dwell on it. The girl who had died that night hadn't been her; that was all she needed to worry about.

Lily didn't know why she was thinking of that night on today, of all days. She usually tried to keep it buried in the farthest reaches of her brain, but her mood was odd and mercurial. Her long white fingers unconsciously came up to play with the Black pendant, as had become an easy habit over the past day.

There was still half an hour before she was due at Dumbledore's office. She went back to the dorm, moving slowly, her mind forcedly fixed on lighter things. But James Potter's cruel, striking face still hovered on her heels.

"Cauldron cakes," Lily told the gargoyle.

It squinted at her suspiciously, then allowed her through. She knocked on Dumbledore's door, tongue flicking out to moisten suddenly dry lips.

"Come in," he called. She did so. A duffle bag was hitched over her shoulder, boots silent on the thick carpet as she glided over to where Dumbledore was seated behind his desk.

"Good morning, Miss Black," he said cordially. "Please have a seat. Mr Potter and Mr Black have yet to arrive, although, unless I am much mistaken..."

He cocked his head to the side. Sure enough, there was a rap at the door, and in what Lily considered an example of the heights of rudeness, it was shoved open before the professor could answer.

Sirius entered first. His raven hair gleamed in the candlelight, eyes more silver than grey. A backpack was slung over one shoulder. Potter came in next, and before Lily could look away, she took in his sleepily bored expression and dishevelled locks. Her mouth went dry. Hastily, she focussed on a corner of the desk.

"Good morning, boys," Dumbledore said. "This is the Portkey." He indicated a brilliant golden feather on his desk. Most probably it had come from Fawkes, Lily thought, glancing around for the phoenix.

"It will take you to Malfoy Manor. On Sunday morning at nine am promptly it will return you to my office, so remember not to be late. Ah, here it comes now..."

The feather had begun to glow white-blue. Lily stretched out a finger to touch it, shifting so that Sirius and Potter could fit on too. She noticed that they were careful to keep a distance between them.

Her navel jerked, and they were off.

Lily had travelled by Portkey before. She despised it, preferring Floo powder, but had to admit that in some ways it had distinct advantages. An invisible force had glued her fingertip to the feather to prevent her falling off. Plus, the journey was brief, lasting for only a few seconds. As her feet found purchase on the ground she stumbled sideways into a hard body.

"Get off, Potter," Lily snapped automatically. Her voice was low and harsh.

He pulled away without commenting that she was the one who had knocked into him. Turning, Lily blinked away her dizziness. They were in one of the sitting rooms of Malfoy Manor; a fire burned in the grate and the curtains were pulled to reveal the slowly lightening sky. Fawkes's feather lay on the floor.

"Good to see you again," a voice said.

She jumped. In her perusal of the room, she had missed the person sitting in an armchair in front of them. Rabastan Lestrange was a few years older than her, with overlong black hair that hung in his equally dark eyes. He was the spitting image of his older brother Rodolphus, Bellatrix's husband.

Lily had always liked him. She smiled, noting that he had directed his comment to her. "You too, Rabastan," she said. "Is everything ready for the big day? How's my sister?"

"Cissy's had about ten mental breakdowns since she woke up the same number of minutes ago," he replied, rolling his eyes. "You wouldn't think to look at her that she could be so dramatic, would you? Lucius is better at hiding his anxiety, but I'm sure he's a little nervous too." Rabastan stood. "Hello, James, Sirius. Haven't seen you two in quite some time."

"You know how it is," Sirius said airily. "So much to do, so little time..."

"I hear that congratulations are in order," he said. "Rodolphus tells me you two were the masterminds behind the Rookwood incident."

He said it so casually, and the smile froze on Lily's face. Had she always been this blind to what had been going on around her, or had they merely stopped trying to hide it? It seemed to be nothing to them – the murder of Muggles, of Muggle children. Yet Rabastan was so kind to her. She knew what a good person he could be. How could she reconcile that with the man who spoke easily of such cruelty?

Her mood had soured, or maybe it had never been all that good to begin with, and she coughed loudly. "Nice as all this is, can we get a move on? I want to see Cissy now."

"Of course," Rabastan said, winking at her. "Right this way."

He led them away, and Lily could not shake her feeling of unease as the painted grey eyes of Lucius's ancestors followed her out of the room.

"Lily!" Bellatrix said exultantly, crushing her younger sister to her bosom. "Look how tall you are!"

Bella had never been one to do things by half, Lily reflected as she laughingly tried to wriggle away. Either she was joyous or heartbroken, raging or sobbing. That was the curse of the Blacks; they only ever came in two moulds. Half of them were like Lily and Narcissa, detached and impervious, their tempers burning cold instead of hot. The other half were like Bellatrix and Sirius, who swung from one extreme to the other. She wondered if there had ever been a Black who could express emotions normally. She doubted it.

"You need to eat more," Bellatrix said critically. "I always did say Durmstrang had better food, but Father point-blank refused to send us there –"

"I'm fine, Bella," Lily assured her. The two of them were standing in the sumptuous bedroom Lily had been given for the duration of her stay. Bellatrix was currently winding her red hair into an elaborate set of braids.

"Cissy wanted to see you, but I said not until I'd done your hair," she confided. "She isn't allowed to see Lucius, of course, so she's been a little anxious."

Lily hummed. "How's Rodolphus?"

"He's fine, he's with Lucius right now. There, all done!"

Lily looked into the gilt-edged mirror. Two curls had been allowed to spring free to frame her oval face, with the rest of the braids swept up to the top of her head and pinned in place with a large green diamond. She smiled and got to her feet.

"What now?"

"We have to go and see Mother and Cissy," Bellatrix said. Her eyes flashed down and she added almost abruptly, "I'm glad to see you've taken my advice."

With a start, Lily remembered the questions she had had for her eldest sister. "Bella, what did you mean in your letter? You said I should wear my pendant at all times –"

"Not here," she hissed. Her voice was low and urgent. "It can't be spoken of now, it's not safe. I promise I'll explain in greater detail later. Alright?"

"Fine," Lily said reluctantly. "Let's go."

Druella Black, née Rosier, was sitting majestically on the bed as her youngest and eldest daughters entered Narcissa's bedroom. She had Veela roots that had been passed down to Narcissa, but her sharp almond-shaped eyes were the blue of an evening sky. She looked up as they came in.

"Delilah," she greeted crisply.

Lily straightened her back and clasped her hands together. She was always acting a little bit when she was around her family, but it was most pronounced when she was with her exquisitely polite, vehemently anti-Muggle parents. She loved them, and she knew they loved her, but Black standards were high, and she had already failed to meet so many of them.

"Mother," she said. "You're looking well."

Druella raised a silvery-blonde eyebrow. "As are you, Delilah. How's school?"

She knew where this was leading. "Good, Mother. I'm getting Os in nearly all my subjects."

"How are Sirius and James? Still up to mischief?"

For incomprehensible reasons, Lily's mother adored the only Potter heir. She hid her scowl. "Yes, they are. But their friend Lupin is Head Boy this year."

Druella sniffed elegantly. "Lupin? Hmm. The rumours I've heard about Lyall's wife… well. Let us not dwell on it. What about you, Delilah? I suppose you're still hanging around that McKinnon girl and the Longbottom boy?"

The contempt in her words was impossible to miss. Lily sighed. She had known Marlene, whose father was a half-blood and mother a Muggleborn, for nearly thirteen years, but her mother still insisted on referring to her as 'that McKinnon girl.' At least Frank was part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. "They're both fine," she said.

"I hear Gryffindor's lost the Quidditch Cup to Slytherin for nearly a decade now," said Druella slyly. "Your House is hardly doing well, is it?"

"I'm Gryffindor Seeker now," Lily said. "So maybe we'll be getting better, if I'm anything like Sirius."

She saw her mother's surprise before it was hastily hidden and felt a stab of triumph. It took a lot to crack the Black mask Druella had managed to cultivate after her marriage.

"That reminds me," Lily said. "Could I have a broom, please? A Nimbus 1700, maybe?"

Druella nodded. "I'll speak to your father. We'll send it over next week."

That marked the end of their exchange. Narcissa spoke up, something she had known better than to do while her mother conversed with her sister; she had been hovering impatiently by the doorway, still dressed in her nightgown.

"Well done, Lily," she said. "I'm sure you'll gain your House lots of points. Come here, we need to fit you with your bridesmaid's dress." She floated over to the wardrobe and pulled out a hanger. Attached to it was a long, silky black dress with trailing lace sleeves. For the next few hours she allowed her sisters and a whole range of professional people to fit the dress to her, cover her face with makeup, redo her hair (Bellatrix looked furious) and perform a variety of other activities.

After that, she handed her wrapped wedding presents to their mother, who spirited the parcels away.

"Can I go now?" Lily asked, struggling not to yawn.

Narcissa was busy having her eyelids painted glittery green. "Of course," she said. "Go and explore the house, if you'd like. Or if you're hungry, ask Rabastan to show you to the kitchens. The house-elves will make you something."

Lily nodded and made her escape.

From an aesthetic perspective at least, the wedding had been a success; Narcissa had been resplendent in a floor-length white dress edged with black lace, twining along the hem in a pattern as twisted as it was beautiful. Her hair fell almost to her waist in a sheet of white-blonde silk. Beside her, Lucius looked remote and powerful, but his eyes burned whenever they landed on his new wife, and Lily had had to look away at the blazing passion of their first marital kiss.

They would be leaving for their honeymoon in a few hours. Right now the guests were talking, laughing, drinking and eating in the expansive manor grounds. A few couples were spinning around the hedges to a tune struck up by the orchestra. Bellatrix and Rodolphus were among them.

Lily nibbled at a prawn taken from the tray of a passing house-elf. She was bored. She didn't like the champagne, and wasn't about to go for any of the harder drinks, although she had seen both Sirius and Potter guzzling down some beer.

Potter… well. It would have been fair to say that dress robes suited him. The deep black of the material was stark against the porcelain whiteness of his skin, setting off his sharply angled cheekbones and darkening his eyes to gold. She had not been able to look at him for more than a moment before a tidal wave of irritation had swamped her.

She tapped one of her high heels against the floor.

"Dance with me, cousin dear?"

Lily shook herself out of her reverie. Sirius was standing in front of her, one hand outstretched, draped in dress robes the precise silvery blue-grey of his eyes. His words rang with mockery. A no was on the tip of her tongue, but then she caught sight of her mother's glare, and sighed.

"Very well then."

She stood up. He led them both onto the dance floor. Potter was sitting at one of the tables, talking to a blonde witch in a red dress, and Lily quashed the strange feeling that clawed at her when she saw him touch her arm. What was wrong with her today?

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen such a perfect example of hypocrisy."

Lily tore her gaze away and lifted her eyes to Sirius. "Whatever do you mean?"

The scorn on his face was unmistakeable. "No, really, it stuns me. You do everything in your power to let everyone know that you aren't like the rest of us blood purist Slytherins, and then when it suits you, you take up our mantle. Your slyness honestly impresses me. Clearly you were Sorted into the wrong House."

Lily still didn't know what he meant, but the fact that he was disgusted did not escape her. Her grip on him tightened. They had all but ceased to dance now. Instead they were leaning closer to each other, words hissed lowly.

"Are you talking about the pendant? Because it tells everyone I'm a Black?"

"I guess you aren't totally as stupid as you look," he said offhandedly.

Her anger flared. "You don't know what you're talking about. I'm only wearing it because Bella told me to! Unlike you, I have a good relationship with my siblings."

Throwing in the fact that Sirius and Regulus were like cats and dogs was admittedly a low blow. His lips thinned, but he managed to get out a taunting laugh. "You're so clueless, my darling cousin. How adorable. It's all or nothing: either you're with us, or you're against us." His hands on her waist were harsh, biting painfully into her flesh. "You can't have it both ways, Lily. Hiding behind our name while you preach tolerance for the Muggles… Soon the time will come when you'll have to make your choice. Be sure to make the right one."

She dug her nails into his skin. "Explain, Sirius, how honouring my sister's wishes makes me a hypocrite."

"She didn't want you to know," he said thoughtfully, "but I think I'll tell you all the same. Then you won't have any excuse. You see, Lily, your beloved Bellatrix is one 0f the Dark Lord's most faithful servants. She's done things that make what James and I did look like child's play. She's planning something big to appease him, and she wants you protected. That's why she told you to wear the pendant."

He released her and stepped back. "Well, Lily? Knowing that, are you going to be showing everyone what a little fraud you are, or are you going to make a name for your own?"

Lily could only stare blankly at him. She'd known, intellectually, that her sister had probably done terrible things – what member of her family hadn't? But... she'd never been so involved before. Usually they were incidents she read about in the newspaper and sneaking suspicions she never voiced.

It had to be something big indeed if Bellatrix was telling her to wear the Black pendant.

She whirled around, pushing remorselessly past people. Out. She needed to get out. Somewhere she could breathe, where the blood that drenched everyone's hands but her own wasn't so close, so tangible. She couldn't brush it all under the carpet anymore like she had been doing for the past six years.

Something had to give.

It's all or nothing: either you're with us, or you're against us.

After a while Lily realised she had stopped running. She was standing on a balcony, bathed in moonlight, looking down at the beautiful Malfoy grounds stretching out before her as far as the eye could see. Her fingers brushed over the cool metal of her pendant. She traced the embossed lines of the coat-of-arms and motto. Toujours pur: always pure. How could she in good conscience wear it when she didn't truly agree with what it stood for?

Yet how could she take it off and break so many hearts by renouncing her heritage?

A footstep alerted her, the brush of cloth. Lily turned around. Somehow she wasn't surprised to see him.

"Good evening," Potter said.

AN: Annnd here's the wedding! If you've read this story before, you can now see the biggest plot change I've made. B - yes, I'll be keeping the interludes in James's POV.

Sorry this chatper was so delayed! I was busy helping my mum make cheese pastries and samosas to eat tonight. My role was very minimal (I just brushed egg over the top) but you can all learn in the next update how today's culinary adventures went :P Thanks to everyone who voted in my title poll! I've decided to go with either Poison and Gold or Blood Will Have Blood - I've not quite decided yet, but I probably will have done by the end of today.

Ellie, your upside-down toffee apple cake sounds amazing! Definitely let me know if you manage to find your old account/make a new one. I plan on keeping this story pretty dark, but there WILL be a HEA for Jily! I just can't promise exactly what form it will come in... she's very conflicted right now, to say the least. I hope you enjoyed the chapter 3

See y'all tonight!