Drink Me

2. A Confusing Start

Lily sleeps abysmally that night, tossing and turning and stewing in phantom pain and discomfort that never actually materialise in her body. For all intents and purposes, it looks like the strange potion she'd taken in the head's office actually had been nothing more than a stupid challenge meant to ruffle their scarlet Gryffindor feathers. But every time she thinks of peacefully dozing off after that placating thought, the memory of James's terrified expression swims into view behind her closed eyelids. It's because of his utterly bizarre farewell near the staircases that she half expects to sit in front of a toilet bowl all night, sickness pinching her face as she empties the contents of her stomach into it. But nausea never makes an appearance despite all her worry and sleeplessness, and she's left to wonder why he'd looked so agonized earlier then.

By the time the sun begins peeking over the horizon again, she has given up on trying to figure out the mystery, and has made better use of her time by plotting James Potter's murder in a hundred different ways.

Eyes ringed with deep bags and exhaustion clinging to her limbs, Lily makes her way down to the common room alongside Mary a few hours later. She'd fleetingly considered skipping breakfast and going straight to Charms—the first class of the day—in order to stay in bed a little longer, but the fear of oversleeping had finally pushed her to make the journey to breakfast.

"You alright, Lily?" Mary asks from beside her, and she realizes she must have zoned out for a solid minute there. "You look bloody exhausted."

"I hate James Potter."

"Well, alright, then," Mary snorts. "Didn't know those were the kinds of activities the two of you were getting up to during patrol."

"Shut up, Mare," she groans, already blushing and hating herself for it. "He was just—acting really weird last night towards the end."

"Weird how?"

"I don't know, just—" and here, she pauses, considers if she should tell Mary about the strange potion they'd consumed in the office. It'll certainly help to have someone in her corner in case the effects of the drink take time to emerge and she has to be carted off to the hospital wing. On the other hand, however, Mary would lose her mind over the fact that Lily had let James convince her into doing something so obviously reckless and uncharacteristic. It isn't too difficult a choice, all things considered. "Weird."

"Wow, that clears everything up," Mary deadpans.

"It doesn't matter." Lily bats away the stare levelled at her. "It's nothing and he's probably just trying to trick me into worrying."

"About what?"

"You know, his weirdness."

"Merlin, Evans, you're feeling extra batty today, are you?" Mary chuckles as they enter the Great Hall. Without meaning to, a strange sort of thrill courses down Lily's stomach, her eyes unwillingly gliding along the Gryffindor table, looking for a familiar group of four boys. She spots them easily enough, huddled together as usual—but no, a longer look reveals that there's one noticeable absence; one that leaves disappointment running thickly inside her. "Come along, maybe breakfast will help."

Lily grunts in agreement, even though her appetite seems to have diminished suddenly.

"Morning, Lily. Mary," Remus greets as they settle down around the bench next to the Marauders.

Once the smattering of greetings is exchanged, Mary is quickly pulled into a conversation with sixth-year Gryffindor prefect, Emmeline Vance, leaving Lily free to turn to the boys on her other side with a pointed look. "Where's Potter?"

"Not here." Sirius smirks.

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

He opens his mouth to release another snarky comment, no doubt, but Remus rather sensibly interrupts. "He just wasn't feeling up to breakfast this morning."

She swallows down the piece of information with slight concern, and, hoping her voice comes off as innocently casual, asks, "Everything alright with him?"

Sirius immediately leans forward, one brow cocked. "Why'd you ask that?"

Lily frowns, shrugs, tries not to be bothered by the glint in those grey eyes. "Just thought he looked a bit peaky last night."

"Did he now?" He leans back, face blank. "Interesting."

She finds her gaze narrowing at his tone, and proceeds to observe the way Peter, seated next to him, avoids her eyes altogether, clumsy fingers scampering around to grab the plate of bacon. Remus, too, seems highly absorbed in buttering the toast in his hand, though he shoots her a small smile upon noticing her stare. Unfortunately for him, she's been around this lot for long enough to not be fooled by their act of nonchalance.

"You know something, don't you? All three of you. He's told you."

Sirius sighs almost disappointedly. "Would hardly tell you even if we did now, would we, Evans?"

Before she has a chance to retort to that, Mary turns around. "What are we talking about?"

"Nothing," Lily replies, grabbing a piece of toast from the table. "Just that I need to talk to Professor Flitwick about the essay he assigned us."

"Didn't you finish that, like, a week ago?"

"Yeah, this is just about some additional stuff I looked up while I was completing it."

Mary rolls her eyes. "Bloody swot."

"See you in class," she says around a bite of toast, hightailing it out of the Great Hall before the knowing glances from the three Marauders can effectively drive her insane.


He's told them.

There's no need for confirmation; she's about ninety per cent definitive that he's told them.

How else could this have played out so spectacularly in his favour?

Lily glares at the back of his stupid, madly messed-up dark hair, sitting four rows ahead of her, and stubs the point of her quill hard enough on parchment that the thing snaps into two, ink blotting and tearing through paper. "Fuck," she mutters, vanishes the mess with a quick flick of her wand.

"You know, the aggression is starting to worry me a bit now, Lil," Mary whispers from next to her, brown eyes wide. "Are you sure you're alright?"

She pulls in a deep breath, tries to seem a little less unhinged. "Fine, fine. Just lost grip there for a second."

Mary sighs. "You're mental if you think I believe you."

"I know, that was a terrible cover-up." She rubs at her temples, shoulders slumping. "I'll tell you later. Promise."

Seemingly pacified for the moment, Mary returns to her own notes with a nod, and Lily is left to contend with the reality of just how stupendously James Potter and his merry little gang have made a fool out of her. No doubt they'd rushed off to find him right after Lily herself had made her exit; she'd figured arriving early to class and capturing the seat he usually occupied would give her the best chance to confront the prat about his oddity last night and his absence this morning.

However, almost as if they had expected it, the Marauders were the last to arrive to class, James comfortably cocooned between Sirius and Remus on either side and Peter leading the front. They'd scanned the room once to take note of the seating arrangement—making next to no effort to appear surreptitious—and then plopped down near the front of the room, to literally everyone's surprise.

Lily is hard-pressed to believe that this peculiar behaviour has nothing to do with her, given how obviously James had avoided her gaze upon entrance.

And the thing is, the avoidance bugs her more than it probably should. She wants to walk up to him, shake him by the shoulders, demand what the fuck he's doing, playing with her mind like this. In fact, for a long minute there, she'd actually almost done that, current audience and Flitwick's lecture be damned. The muscles in her calves had tensed, ready to push her off her seat and stalk down the classroom dramatically.

It wasn't until Mary had remarked upon how strange the boys were behaving from beside her that she'd broken out of her trance, blinking in shock at her own domineering urge from a second ago.

Presently, she blows out a frustrated breath, reaching down and rummaging inside her bag for a spare quill.

By the time she straightens, it's to find James having a conversation with Flitwick near the front of the classroom, the distance long enough to render their voices inaudible to Lily. Intuition pricks at the back of her mind, and she narrows her eyes. "What are they talking about, you think?"

Mary shrugs, seemingly unbothered. "Don't worry, Lil, you're still Flitwick's favourite."

"That's not what—"

But her voice cuts off when James twists on his feet, and with a quick nod to the other Marauders, makes his way towards the classroom door. Oh, hell no, she thinks, and leans her body closer to the aisle so he'll be forced to acknowledge her.

"Oi!" she hisses from the corner of her mouth when he's near enough.

The slightest hint of panic flashes in the hazels behind his glasses, feet stuttering next to her bench at her call. For a second, Lily thinks he'll dash out of the room without looking at her at all, but almost unwillingly, his eyes land on her, a flush clambering up the skin revealed at his collar. Quite nonsensically, she feels the force of that stare straight inside her gut, not unlike a well-placed punch.

Huh, that's not normal, Lily thinks. She certainly holds a lot of strong feelings about James Potter, but none has felt quite as physical, as tangible as this before.

He's still looking at her with that half-terrified expression though, so she opens her mouth, tries to tell him to quit what he's doing, to wait for her after class, to stop ignoring her presence without any logical explanation given—

But nothing comes out.

Instead, a strange wave of emotion swells between her ribs, stretches like elastic, large and heavy and choking the air passing up her throat. It floods into her mouth, this feeling, slips over her tongue, and with a quiet, strangled sound, Lily has to press her lips together, heart pumping wildly in her chest. She blinks at him, wide-eyed, shock freezing her into place.

And then, before she has the chance to understand what's happened, James turns around and leaves the room.

A hand clamps around her arm. "What the fuck was that?"

Lily notices the unsubtle gawking from the Ravenclaws sat behind them, and reshuffles to face the front again, cheeks burning self-consciously. Mary's waiting for a response at her right, fingertips pressing tight on her wrist, so Lily lowers her head, tries to say that she has no fucking clue and would be supremely grateful if Mary could tell her why she's suddenly tempted to say the maddest of things without any visible compulsion.

Instead, her mouth blurts, "I fancy the bloody pants off James Potter."

It takes a second for her to realize exactly what she's done.

It takes another three for the horror to catch up with her. For her face to go up in flames. For her jaw to drop open in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, what now?!" Mary screeches.

"Miss Macdonald!" Flitwick calls out, and Lily is suddenly overwhelmingly aware of the attention Mary has pulled towards them with her outburst. Without meaning to, her gaze flits three rows down, catches Sirius's intrigued expression, his dark, arched brow. The stare makes her face burn harder, irrational fear settling into her mind that he's definitely overheard her confession, even though logic argues that it's quite impossible, given how quietly she'd spoken and how far away he sits. "If you insist on talking in my class, at least do it without disturbing those who are actually interested in studying so that I'm not compelled to give you detention."

"Sorry, Professor," Mary mumbles dutifully. But as soon as Flitwick is once again absorbed in explaining the various applications of Lumos Solem, she turns to Lily, practically frothing at the mouth. "Did you just—was that—"

"I know," Lily groans, resigned, finally looking away from sharp grey eyes. God, what the fuck is going on? "Later."


"Evans, we need to speak with you."

Lily adjusts her bag over her shoulder, mouth dry as she looks from Sirius to Remus to Peter, their faces infuriatingly blank. She simultaneously pities and empathizes with the professors who have ever had to deal with them in the aftermath of pranks. "Uh…"

Around them, the remaining students steadily file out of the class, followed by Professor Flitwick—his tiny form all but disappearing within the sea of bodies—until the only one left aside from the four of them is Mary, who shoulders her way into the conversation—although, confrontation would probably be a better word for how Lily finds herself cornered.

"I think not," her friend scoffs, brown eyes glaring. "We need to speak first. You lot can wait your turn."

"Ah, come on, Mac." Sirius smirks. "It'll only take a few minutes."

"Don't even try. That's not going to work this time, Black."

"Next time, then?"

"Lily, please." This from Remus, who looks almost regretful to have to step into this mess. "Just for a minute. Or you know Sirius is going to be insufferable until you agree."

It's a statement that sits firmly within the realm of possibility, and Sirius looks smug enough to prove that he'll be only too happy to demonstrate the act for them if they harbour any doubts as to its validity. Feeling like she's losing ten years of her life in a single day, Lily lets out a heavy sigh. "Mare—"

"Merlin, fine!" Mary huffs, dark ponytail swishing as she walks towards the door. She stops for a beat only to turn and point a threatening finger at Lily. "Before Lunch, Evans."

A nod. "Got it."

No sooner has Mary's footsteps faded that Sirius begins, "So, Evans—"

"Where did James go?" she cuts him off. "Between class?"

Sirius looks highly displeased with this turn in questioning, so Peter steps in. "He—uh—he had to go meet McGonagall. Important Head Boy stuff."

Honestly. The boy could stand to lie better.

"Head Boy stuff?" Lily repeats, trying not to smirk too openly when Remus massages his temples. "Then why do I, as Head Girl, not know about this very important meeting?"

Peter pales. "Well, that's—er—McGonagall only just told him—"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, it's obvious that he's ignoring me. I just want to know why."

"He's clearly gone 'round the bend." Sirius rolls his eyes, and then, crossing his arms over his chest, leans forward with a wolfish grin. "The question is—have you as well?"

Her traitorous body malfunctions; words stuttering, heart slamming, skin warming. "What do you—what's that supposed to mean?"

Surprisingly, it is Remus who hums contemplatively, and Lily thinks: betrayal. "You did appear sort of flustered when he left. Everything alright?"

Oh, bugger.

"Save it," she snaps, suddenly exhausted, slumping back to lean against the desk behind her. "I'm not interested. It's evident he's told you about the potion, and now you're just playing with me. Well, tough luck. He can come talk to me himself."

"Told us—" Peter starts.

"Yeah, we got it out of him when he came upstairs looking like he was about to hurl his guts out," Sirius says, looking a bit disgusted.

She bites her lip, unable to help but ask, "Did he—um—did he tell you why?"

"Didn't you both drink the same potion?" He shoots back meaningfully. "How do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Really?" Remus tilts his head.

"You know what?" Lily pushes off from the desk, their knowing glances suddenly feeling like too much, neck turning uncomfortably hot. "This is stupid. That bloody potion was stupid. I told him not to take it, and now Merlin knows what's happening. It's invoking all these strange thoughts and impulses, and—well, anyway—"

"Hang on—" Sirius steps into her path. "Impulses, eh? What kind?"

"Oh, fuck off."

"No really, Evans." He flashes her a smirk. "I'm sure Prongs would be only too willing to find a cosy spot if you were interested in acting on these impulses—"

"Okay, so I'm going to leave now before you force me to hex your bollocks off."

And then, before any of them can stop her or ask more questions she can't possibly provide answers to, she strides out of the room to the sound of their internal bickering.

"Damn it, Padfoot, did you have to—"


Mary takes the news well.

In fact, she takes the news surprisingly well. Alarmingly well, even.

"Oh, this is so exciting!" the girl cries, feet bouncing, grin positively manic as Lily relays how the words had pushed against the walls of her mouth, blocking off her air passage until she had vomited them into the open air. She's only grateful that James had made his exit before the whole thing could have toppled out in front of him in the middle of Charms. "I bet it was a realization potion of some sort. Now you can finally stop living in denial and confess to your undying love for each other so the rest of us can breathe easy."

That sends panic shooting through her veins, and she pulls Mary deeper into the alcove they've sequestered themselves into despite the relatively empty corridor. "Okay, first: he doesn't love me. And second: I definitely don't lovePotter!"

"Sure you do. You admitted you fancied him just an hour back, Lil."

"No, that was—" Her tongue feels thick in her mouth, dread rising when she senses the urge to agree with Mary again. "I don't know what that was. I think…"

"What?"

But something has clicked into place in her brain, and she nods. "I think it was a love potion."

"Right, sure." Mary snickers. "You're saying Potter went through the trouble of brewing you a love potion, then drank it right along with you, and then—how would that actually even work? The boy looked scared out of his mind in class, love, and no one's that great of an actor."

"I don't know," she huffs, annoyed by the rationality. "Maybe someone else brewed it for us. As a prank. There are all sorts of love potions, you know. Maybe this one only works if both of us drink it together—"

But Mary's gaze has turned almost pitying now. "Lily—"

"No, no." She steps away. "I'm going to the library after classes. Surely, I can find some sort of antidote to this. Don't worry."

"I'm really not the one who's worrying." Mary sighs.


She's standing in the middle of the Potions section of the library, the setting sun casting a blood orange glow on the spines housed in the bookshelves, fingers skimming through the pages of Tricky Love Potions and Trickier Antidotes when a sharp gasp from the direction of the aisle snags her attention.

She looks up, catches sight of wide hazel eyes, a comically shocked face, a hand rushing up to run through hair that is already beyond help. Their efforts to avoid each other all day, it would seem, have failed rather spectacularly.

"Er, hi."

She forces her throat to function—but not too much. "Hey. Um. I was just—uh—"

"Right."

And then he's twisting on his feet, ready to make his getaway without any pretence of doing otherwise.

"James, wait!" Lily calls, abruptly adamant to put an end to this mortifying dance they are engaged in. "I know what's going on, alright? You don't have to run."

She can see the tension knotted in his shoulders and neck, stiff and awkward even as he turns around to face her again. "You do?" he asks, looking like he highly doubts her.

"Yes," Lily sighs, offers him a half-smile when he walks closer to her again. Progress. "It's not—I mean, there's nothing to be embarrassed about, yeah? It's clearly just a potion that's making us act weirdly."

"Yeah," he whooshes out a breath, sounds both strangled and relieved at the same time. His face has turned pink with restrain. "I really can't fucking talk to you though."

"I know," Lily says, her own teeth gnashing together violently. It's like trying to let out only a trickle of water when the dam is on the verge of collapsing into rubble. "Maybe we should just go ahead and say it."

His expressions twist further, colour high on his cheeks as he chokes out, "What?"

And the walls burst.

"Fucking hell, I like you!" she blurts, feeling like air can enter her lungs again. "I like you very, very much—a ridiculous amount, really—and I have no idea when it even started or how, but it's so obvious! I feel so obvious, and most times I wonder how you haven't realized it yet because I'm always looking for reasons to be around you even when I have none. But it's also fucking terrifying because you keep making these jokes about how I couldn't possibly ever date you, like it's the funniest thing in the world, and that only makes me wonder whether it's actually you who can't fathom the idea of being with me, so it's much easier to pretend that I'm only annoyed by your teasing instead of doing what I really want to do which is to shove you against a wall and—"

She slaps a hand over her mouth, palm pressing against lips to stop their incessant, horrifying movements, and stares at him, wide-eyed, blood pounding in her ears.

Oh, Merlin.

Oh Merlin Oh Merlin Oh Merlin, where the fuck did all of that come from?!

James looks rather gobsmacked himself; lips parted, eyes round as saucers, hands limp by his sides.

And then:

"I'm in love with you," he says.