Lily ran her hands over the skirt. It was mint green,
waltz-length, and it was like a little bell. It was made of soft, soft silk.
She slipped on a pair of white dancing slippers, knowing no one would see them.
The wrap was less soft, but gauzy. It was several layers of mint green chiffon,
sewn together with ruffled edges.
For the finishing touch, she had a mint green halter of the same
material of her skirt, and on the left side of the bodice was a trail of ivy with
little lavender flowers and leaves. She had the top part of her curls tucked
away with the dragonfly combs.
The soft, enchanting music of the jewelry box filled the room as
Lily put on the diamond studs she wore the previous night, and took a thin chain
of silver with an amethyst-glass leaf pendant and fastened it around her neck.
Pretty. Beautiful. Elegant. Charming. Graceful. Regal.
Intelligent. The words had filled Lily's head for the past two years. They
meant nothing. Her soul had never felt pretty. Confident, maybe, but not
pretty. Intelligence was just so she could gain respect among the suitors who
only wanted her for her money and the fact that she wasn't half-decent to look
at.
There was a tiny oval purse made of the same material as her
dress that she picked up off her dressing table. Ready to face the music.
She stood up from her spot and slowly walked to the floor-length
mirror. She bowed her head, practiced a curtsy, and when she finally looked up,
she could have cried.
I never should have come here. I am actually enjoying this.
Going to balls and theatres and operas. I don't want to become Claire's
stepdaughter, sold like a cow at an auction. I don't want to even befriend
Potter. What am I doing here? I shouldn't look like this- Like I belong.
She would have cried, but she knew better to cry before she was
expecting a visitor. The ball was just downstairs and she was not holding up
her already fashionably-late entrance by removing and reapplying make-up. Her
eyes filled a bit, but she wiped that away.
A lady never loses her composure.
Here she was, reciting the rules of finishing school. She
laughed with a cold heart. Like you have never lost your composure, Evans.
She walked over to her dressing table and spotted the lion. She
was sitting down when a knock came at her door. "It's open."
She fingered the lion, and to her surprise, it roared. She
shrieked quietly.
James's rumbling, friendly laugh made her look up. She forced a
smile on her face, her society smile. But his laughter was a bit contagious.
She decided at least to enjoy herself and have regrets later. But you're not
built for regrets. You're too perfect.
"That was the joy of the lion. It was made by Gryffindor himself,
and he loved to surprise his son. You're not truly telling me you don't know
the story of Lady Lillian, are you?" He asked as he offered his arm.
Lily got up and closed her jewelry box, then placed her hand
lightly on the arm she offered. "All I know is that she was a society girl like
me forced to marry someone she didn't love because he had invaded her fiancée's
territory."
James chuckled. "You got part of the story right."
They were silent as they headed for the stairs. There were so
many open walkways towards the staircase that you could see everyone if you
lurked through the dim-light.
"Now that I think about it, you don't pass off as a little
princess, Princess. You pass for the ideal perfection, but I can see now
you're not. You're still a girl lost in the image of a young lady that every
guy wants for his wife." James said off-handly. Lily was opening her mouth to
protest when he pointed out a couple in the distance, one wearing yellow, the
other a tux. The woman was maternal and rather old, and her companion rather young.
"That right there is Madame Effex. She can remember exactly how
many pints her husband has drank and how much of her son's inheritance is being
squandered on her husband's mistress and exactly how many times she has to pay
off schools to keep her daughter in them, but she can never quite remember that
that man is not her husband. He's a gigolo." James whispered in her ear.
Lily laughed, not too loudly because she was sure the Madame Effex would look
up.
"That right there is the Minister of France. I met him while I
was touring Europe. He's a little on the tipsy side time to time, but as most
French, he's quite a nice fellow to be around."
Lily felt odd. Out of everyone else, she was the only one with
one-hundred percent Muggle upbringing and it felt kind of weird not to know who
was who.
"That is the Longfellows. They are extremely popular in designing
naughty dresses concealed under dress robes for certain bachelor parties."
James whispered, laughing in her ear. She wanted him to continue, but someone
was approaching them. He straightened up.
"Why, my dear James! How lovely to see you again, old chap! Why
don't you introduce me to your lovely, er, companion." The rather tubby man
said. He had a round belly and a chubby red nose and his hair wasn't on top, it
more grew around. But he seemed rather jolly and Lily took an instant liking to
him.
"My dear Minister Lionhart, this is Lily Evans, a Muggle heiress
and fellow Gryffindor." He said, nodding his head a bit. The Minister moved on
down the stairs, hopping in a rather funny fashion, for he had people to meet.
"Is that all you could think of?" She hissed playfully in his
ear. He nodded and the two held their giggles.
"Ah, James! I see you've turned up with another one! Girlfriend,
perhaps?" Asked a young Ministry official, redheaded and with a little boy in
tow.
"No, no, Arthur, just an acquaintance. Your wife Molly used to
school with her, several years older though." James said, nodding his head
again.
"Will you stop that?! You remind me of my butler!" Lily asked.
"Well, Madame Evans, lovely to see you home finally." James said,
sucking in his cheeks so he looked (and spoke) like a fish.
She giggled, but the usher at the front of the stairs asked their
names.
"Announcing Madame Lily Isabelle Evans and her escort, Sir James
Orion Potter-Gryffindor." Rang the voice of the usher. Lily tried to snatch a
glance from James, but they had to walk down the stairs to be introduced to
many people.
"Sir Gryffindor!" Called a rather beautiful young woman,
eighteen or nineteen. She had a French accent and long blonde hair falling to
her waist over her pale pink dress.
"Yes?" James asked as he and Lily turned to face the table the
woman was sitting at.
"May I ask you the story of Lady Lillian?" She asked with a
flirtatious smile.
"Alas, I have people to see. Perhaps you can catch up with us
tomorrow. I believe we should be sightseeing, correct, Lily?" James asked. Lily
nodded.
"Thank you." She said, returning to a notepad on her table. "The
Muggle heiress Lily Evans was on the arm of Sir Gryffindor, said to be the
richest magical person under eighteen in all the world. Sir Gryffindor politely
obliged my request for the story of his great, great, great (and so on..)" She
whispered excitedly to herself, but James led her away to introduce her to more
people.
"Why was she so interested in Lady Lillian, James?" Lily asked,
hoping to get the entire story this time.
"Never you mind, Princess." He said, pinching her cheek
playfully. She batted him away with her hands, but straightened up when another
person approached them.
"Sir Gryffindor?" Asked a voice behind him, very playfully. Lily
and James turned to face Tara, whom Lily embraced.
"Your dress is upstairs, Tara." She said excitedly.
"I heard nobody could take their eyes off of you." Tara said
truly. She was wearing that yellow
dress Lily was supposed to wear the previous night, and her dark, silky hair was
swept upwards and kept up with rubies laced into them. On her arm was an
enchanting young man that Lily assumed was Minister Lionhart's son.
"Well, I certainly couldn't." James murmured, but only Tara heard
him.
"What do you think of announcing our identities to the world,
James?" Tara asked with a sarcastic fear.
"Most everybody in here knows it anyway, Tara." He said, bored.
"And Richard, how are you?" He said, turning to the dashing blonde in front of
him.
"Just fine, James.." He began, but Tara knew better.
"I will see you around, Sir Jimmy-boy. Have a wonderful time,
Lily, and don't let my cousin stick to your side all night. He's quite a social
hermit crab."
Lily laughed and James coughed, to make her stop laughing. She
got her cue, but she didn't no why.
"There is a magical country called Gryf- Never mind. But the
Queen, she's coming through. Straighten up and don't laugh. Don't speak unless
spoken to." He hissed in her ear.
"I remember the society rules, remember?" She hissed back, but
nonetheless straightened up.
The Queen was grand in Missy's words. She didn't remember what
country, but only one country had a Queen that ruled a magical kingdom. That
country was where many of the people too magical for their own good went, and
where the factories for the magical supplies and such were made, to keep low
profile. The Queen (A/N: Think Scarlet O'Hara's curtain dress, except scarlet
and gold) wore a regal cape of red satin lined with speckled snow-leopard's
fur. Her tiara was grand, ever so grand. Lily couldn't see closely, but it looked
like a familiar feline, apparently the symbol of the royal family.
Lily stayed close to James's side, clutching his arm with this
sort of mixed fear and excitement. The Queen was gaining ground, getting closer
and closer to where Lily was standing. The Queen stopped right in front of
Lily.
"Beautiful." The Queen murmured, with an odd, clickety-click
accent. She stretched out her hand so that her fingers dangled and softly
touched Lily's chin. She cupped Lily's chin, lifting her head to study her.
"You have chosen well, nephew." She said to James. "I hope to see
this one again."
James sat stiffly through supper. They had a place facing the
founder of Zonko's, the headmistress of the American magic school, and who sat next
to them (on James's side) were Tara and Richard. On Lily's side (she nearly
died) was the Queen herself. Lily had so many questions for James. Who the
hell is Sir Gryffindor? NEPHEW? Who is the Queen's nephew and why are you
masquerading like him? Why didn't you tell me any of this!?!
But then she realized,
A. She was not his girlfriend.
B. She was not even his close friend.
C. She didn't even know him that well.
D. She didn't bother to ask.
The Queen spent her dinner studying Lily out of the corner of her
eye. Polite, pretty, poised. She knew her way around the millions of
silverware, she seemed to be a good conversationalist (The Queen overheard a
discussion of new Charms that the Headmistress of that American school seemed
truly involved in), she was friendly.. And on top of all things, a good
dresser.
"Tara, do tell me how the Jimmy-boy started." Lily teased. To
those who weren't truly listening, her tone was polite, but the question was
amusing. The Queen snorted into her blancmange.
"Well, James used to be fascinated with American Westerns. He
tried to obtain a few, but he had to settle for this very horrible British
Western. But he adored it. Jimmy-boy was the name of the main character, well,
he was called that by his sister, his cousin and his mother. So Godric's Hollow
got used to calling him Jimmy-boy. But once he got into Hogwarts, he could no
longer be Jimmy-boy. But that's what he asked to be called, so I keep calling
him that." Tara said, her ridicule of James hidden under the shallow mask of manners.
Lily did not giggle like she normally would have, but laughed
politely, though the look she exchanged with Tara told James's cousin exactly
how much Lily was dieing to laugh.
"Welcome one and all to the first of the three Annual Magical
Embassy Balls! Among many in my presence, there is Queen Rica of Gryffindor,
her nephew Sir Gryffindor, her niece Lady Gryffindor and many, many more.
Please, do enjoy yourself as the night is just beginning." The Minister said.
There was a loud jumble as the interpreters went to work, and Lily could laugh
at last, her laughter concealed by the noise. After the jumble of the
interpreters stopped, the orchestra went right to work.
James offered his hand to Lily as Vivaldi's Spring began.
She accepted gracefully and they were a few of the first to begin dancing.
Finally Lily spotted a few of her school friends. Arabella was dancing in this
lavender, silvery sheath, but she was losing her poise as Ronan began to step
on her feet. Helen wore shocking red, which was good against her cinnamon-brown
skin. Sirius was smirking at her in his navy silk tux, Remus smiling through
dances with Jenny (dressed in shimmering bright blue). The dance was lively.
Lily knew it was best to leave a bit early, because she was
feeling a bit faint. After seventeen more dances (two with the tipsy minister
of France, one with the ever-eager Rupert Ravenclaw, and fourteen more with
James) she motioned to James that she needed some air.
She stepped out of one of the floor-to-ceiling glass doors onto
the hotel's terrace. There was a nice place to sit, on the bridge of Lillian's
Pond. Behind the little bridge was a tall tree, so close you could stand on the
bridge and lean on it.
She removed her dance slippers for fear of the oddly fresh grass
staining them to match her dress, and she held them in her hands by their heels
and hopped over to the bridge, unnoticed by anyone- Supposedly.
James was starting to go back upstairs when the daughter of some
Headmaster asked him to dance. She was rather ditzy, but demanding. He let her
lead him to the center of the ballroom and they whirled in circles. She was
leading him rather than tradition letting him lead her, and as she spun him about,
she caught flashes of red and mint green under the half-moon.
"Excuse me, Natasha." He said. "It's been lovely dancing with
you, but I must attend to my date."
He ran across the terrace as the half-moon rose high in the sky.
There was splashing. The bridge at Lillian's Pond had no rails. When he finally
came to the bridge, he found a pair of white dancing slippers first, then Lily
sitting on the bridge, her palms face down, her skirt lifted up, her hair
coming out of place, and her feet splashing in the water.
"Oh, hi, James." She said, looking up. She had wrapped the gauzy
shawl tightly around her shoulders, but she was still shivering.
"You'll catch cold." He said simply, but in a sort of demanding
voice.
"No, I won't." She said matter-of-factly.
"And what makes you think so?" He asked, mocking her.
"Because you will tell me to gather my stuff and call me Princess
and scoop me up like that day on the stairs, and sneak me upstairs. You will
wait for me to change into warm pajamas and you'll get me hot chocolate and
read me a story, sing me a lullaby and tuck me in, making sure I fall asleep."
She said simply.
"I am?" He asked wearily.
"You are. Definitely."
"Fine. Gather your slippers milady. Princess. Fetch your handbag
and let me carry you off into the- moonset. Yeah, the moonset." He said
playfully. He scooped her up like she said he would, smiling all the while. "Are
you sure I'm going to do this?"
"Yes." She said with a coy smile. "Now we get the hot chocolate."
"I thought you changed first."
"I changed my mind."
"Alright."
They snuck through the corridors, heading for the kitchen, where
a hot mug would be sent up to Lily's room in moments. He took the back
staircase (otherwise he would have had to go through the ballroom with Lily
barefoot and disheveled) and set her down in the first chair he saw in the
room. She got out that set of pajamas she had worn on his first night back at
Hogwarts and sat up on her bed.
"Tell me a story, Jimmy-boy." She whispered as she drank hot
chocolate.
"Once upon a time, there was a pretty little princess who snuck
away from the ball she was supposed to be at, caught cold in the water of
Lillian's Pond and died. The end." He said, leaning back into the grand velvet
chair by the window.
"Not fair. That story was made-up." She pretended to pout. "What
about my lullaby?" She asked as she finished off the hot chocolate.
"I'll wind up your jewelry box." He said. "It'll give you sweet
dreams for sure."
He did as he said he would and lifted her lacy quilts to tuck her
in. Her hair was spread out on the pillow, her makeup removed, a dreamy smile
on her lips. He tucked her in and sat on the great chair by the window,
watching her fall asleep. She did shortly, but so did he. He was sure somebody
had spiked the punch, because she had never been more good-natured.