"No kidding! Did you see her eyes! God, I hope I never make her look like that again…and she really trusted me, too! I could kill myself for that!"
Sirius frowned. "Suicide for Cissa's worst enemy? I'd rethink that. I'll forget you said that, if you want me to."
James shrugged. "I don't care about Cissa right now–don't care at all–did you see how badly I hurt her? I'll never forget that as long as I live!"
Sirius' frown deepened as he knelt down next to James. "Well–as long as we're on the subject, what about her dad's drinking problem?"
James simply stared at him, stood up, and vanished in the direction Lily had gone. Sirius was alone now.
"Well, there goes that!"
Lily didn't sleep at all that night–or, for what was left of the night. She kept tossing and turning under the blankets, berating herself for her stupidity in telling James anything. Why hadn't she just kept her mouth shut? As the night wore into morning, she had replayed every minute of last night's disaster in her mind several times, had watched the first snowflakes fall onto the windowsill, and had hardened her heart even more against possible intrusions.
When she decided to get out of bed, it was five in the morning, and the snow on the windowsill was three inches high. It was rather cold in the dormitory, so Lily wasted no time getting dressed.
She quietly tiptoed downstairs and arranged herself in her usual early-morning chair near the fire, and, burying herself in a study of Socrates' ideas and history, she effectively managed to blot out the world around her.
It surprised James when he came down at six. Lily was dreamily staring at the words on a page; not seeing it and not really looking at it, but more through it. Her face contorted itself into several frowns and wrinkled in a sort of understanding several times, and from time to time she sort of nodded. And, just when he was about to wake her from what he thought was a dream, her mouth twisted into an expression of pain; her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and then–then she opened them wide, staring into James' face, only two inches away from hers.
She pulled her shoulders out of his grasp. "What?"
"You all right? You went all weird–like someone was crucifying you or something."
"Oh." Lily nodded. "I do that sometimes, I'm told. No–it was just–Socrates just drank the Schierlingsbecher."
James stared. "Who got drunk from what?"
She shook her head. "Never mind. Go away, please."
He knelt down in front of her. "Lil, I want to talk to you about last night."
"That's the last thing I want to talk about. Please go away."
"Lil, no! I want to explain–"
"There's nothing go explain. If you don't go, I will."
He put his hands firmly on her wrists, standing over her. "You're listening to what I have to say."
Lily didn't glare at him, didn't get angry. She simply stared up at him. "And why should I?"
His memory flashed back to her hurt eyes that early morning, and he released his hold. "You're right. You shouldn't have to. But would you?"
Lily determinedly shook her head. "No. I don't want to hear anything about it, and certainly not from you."
"Oh. I see."
"No. You don't. You never will. But go to bed or anywhere else–I don't care. Just leave me alone."
"Lily!"
"I should think that if you had any decency at all, you'd leave. I don't know how many times I've asked you to do so, but please do."
"Lil!"
She sighed and stood up. "I will, then." Ignoring his protestations, she walked out of the common room and down to breakfast.
The rest of the day passed quickly; time seemed to fly by as the rest of the Gryffindors had a large snowball fight out on the lawn and had their hot cocoa party in the common room afterwards (James and Serena shared a cup). Lily didn't participate; she stayed in the darkest corner of the common room that she could find, ignoring any invitations to join in. She didn't consider herself hurt or betrayed at all; she simply had had enough of the whole human race and was sick and tired of everyone in that room.
Tuesday, Herbology fell out because of the amount of snow; no one felt like traipsing through three feet of icy masses, much less Professor Groves. So that period Lily spent in the library, finishing her Astronomy homework. She didn't bother to look up when someone else dumped a stack of books on the table, making it shake madly.
"Oops." He sat down and pulled out a sheet of parchment inside one of the books and started copying down something. Lily noticed he kept shooting nervous glances over at her, and she finally put her quill down and looked up.
"Anything else you want to tell me?"
He started. "Um–er–"
"I thought as much. Anything else?"
"Oh–He grabbed the sheet of parchment sitting next to him. "Mind if you help me?"
Lily looked James up and down, finally turning back to her own work. "No."
"Lil, come on!"
"I said no."
He couldn't get another word out of her for the rest of the day, and he couldn't manage to make her look up, either.
When the Christmas holidays came looming up ahead, Lily was relieved. She had worried herself almost sick over her father, since the Ministry owl had had an accident with a power line and Alisande was refusing to be sent out. She hadn't received any messages from her father for six days, so, when one morning at breakfast, an owl unknown to her dropped a letter onto her lap, with Lily, from Petunia on the front, a great load fell from her mind. Immediately, she ripped it open , scanned the first line, and fell back in her chair, face white as death, lips almost transparent. Everyone around her screamed and jumped; Eva tried slapping her cheeks as Amanda and Sirius were supporting her head.
"Lily! Lily! Help–someone!" Eva was growing almost hysterical, as were Vanessa and Amanda. It came as a relief to everyone when Professor McGonagall swept over and asked what the matter was.

Amanda was trying to hold back a scream. She pointed weakly at Lily, who was half-lying limply in her chair. "Professor–she–she–she just dropped back like that–Professor, look at her!"
Professor McGonagall frowned. Conjuring a stretcher, she levitated Lily onto it and bore her out of the Great Hall, in the direction of the hospital wing. She waved everyone else back sharply, and they arrived in the hospital wing several minutes later. Madam Pomfrey immediately whooshed over.
"Dear, dear! Minerva, what on earth…"
"We're not sure. Poppy, you wouldn't mind…?"
"Of course not. I've got this under control. But what happened?"
"I'm about to go find out. Don't let anyone in to see her, now, Poppy!"
Madam Pomfrey frowned. "This is a hospital wing. I–"
Professor McGonagall cut her off. "Thank you, Poppy. I should be back soon–call me if she wakes up before I come." She swooped out, leaving Lily and the plump nurse behind.
Madam Pomfrey lost no time in magicking Lily into a white nightgown and levitating her inside the sheets of a bed. She was momentarily puzzled, however, by the bit of paper clamped tightly in Lily's hand. Trying to extract it, she only succeeded in tearing off about an inch of crumpled paper, but she dismissed it as she put a few cold compresses on her patient's head, trying to mop up the sweat on her forehead.
Lily woke up several hours later. She recognized the curtains of the hospital wing, then the note clutched in her hand. Opening it and carefully unfolding the note, she read it again, steeling herself this time.

Lily,

Dad died this morning. He was coming home from work and a car hit him. You're to come home immediately by order of the Ministry and the orphanage. That's where we're going now; Dad's parents and Mum's family have no room for us, so we'll have to move in there. And the orphanage people aren't letting you go to your school, either; they're saying that the public school around the corner is just as good. The Ministry might be able to fix that, but I doubt it. You're to come home immediately. No excuses.

Lily let the letter sink onto the sheets. It wasn't a bad dream; she hadn't imagined everything; her father was dead and her mother was buried. Closing her eyes, she slumped onto her pillow, sobbing without tears.
Madam Pomfrey let Professor Dumbledore in at about five. He immediately came over to Lily's bed and sat down in the chair beside her.
"Miss Evans?"
Lily sat up. "Professor! Professor!" She was breathing in small jerks now. "My father–my father–they say he's–that–" She flung herself back onto the pillows, crying for her father.
He put a hand on her shoulder, and Lily felt strength from his hand pour into her frame. "Lily. What is it?"
It was the first time he had called her by her first name, and something about that calmed her, as if she had found a new, a wonderful friend. Lily sat up and pulled out the note, handing it to Dumbledore. He read it, frowning, then looked back at her with the utmost pity in his eyes.
"Lily?"
She hugged her knees close to her. "Yes, Professor?"
"I want you to stay here for a few days. When Christmas vacation comes around, we will send you home just as you planned to go." He stood up. "And–Lily?"
"Yes, Professor?"
"I suggest you receive visitors. Unwelcome as they may be, you may find comfort from them." He smiled kindly, opened the door, and swept out of the hospital wing.
Contrary to Dumbledore's advice, Lily refused to see anyone she didn't have to. Only Eva came into her room, to give her updates and her work. Once, Abigail came, but she didn't know Lily as well and was unnerved by the black around Lily's eyes.
Lily also hadn't eaten since she had heard the news, which was five days ago. She didn't feel hungry, she said, and the only thing Madam Pomfrey could make her drink was a kind of leek broth. Lily simply played with her food listlessly if she was offered anything else. And so, in that short space of time, she started to lose weight; she'd already lost seven, and she wasn't looking to be gaining anything anytime soon.
One morning, more dead than alive (mentally), she was dozing on her pillow when the door creaked open and someone sat down on the chair next to the bed. Lily immediately awoke, then glared at the figure that had just walked in.
"He's dead now; happy? You can tell everyone now how horrible he was."
James put a hand over hers, but she jerked it away, quickly.
"Lil, I'm sorry."
"I don't care what you think! I don't care what you say you think or feel! I told you I never wanted to speak to you again!"
He slumped visibly. "Lil, I thought–well, maybe you could forgive me–"
She cut him off scathingly. "Oh, of course. I'll just trust you again and have you lie to me and spill everything I tell you. Sure; I'm just open to suggestions like that!"
"Lil, I told you I was sorry about that! It slipped!"
"And I'm making sure nothing else slips again. Ever again."
He looked up. "You're seriously planning never, ever to speak to me?"
"Not nicely, no. Like this is fine–this is partly amusing."
He took her hand again and didn't let her jerk it away. "Lil, I know you're upset about your dad–your mom, everything–but can't you just give me one last chance?"
"You child. I'm not giving last chances, not after the last ten thousand you've gotten and managed to mess up."
"Lily, I told you I was sorry!"
"Every single time. I know."
"So–so–"

"And every single time, you managed to do something else even worse. I'm done with last chances!"
He shook his head. "Lil, mind if I get back to you on this? You're overworked and stressed and–"
"DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME WHAT I AM AND AM NOT! YOU DON'T KNOW ME! AND IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT, YOU NEVER WILL!" She was shrieking with anger, her hair was flying around her face as if in a strong wind, and she was sitting straight up in bed. She would have continued, but Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room, hands clamped over her ears. Lily stopped, sat back, and fell onto her pillows. With a sort of satisfaction, she saw Madam Pomfrey hustle James out and put down a bowl of thick soup on the nightstand next to her bed. She didn't bother to try to make Lily drink it; last time she had, the soup had landed on the floor. Simply setting it down, she threw a comment over her shoulder.
"Professor Dumbledore will be letting you out of the hospital wing tomorrow." She stalked back to her office–Lily was the only really unsatisfactory patient she'd had yet. If anything, Lily had gotten worse during her stay, getting temperamental and throwing pillows on the floor, crying tearlessly for no apparent reason, and waking up screaming at night. If anyone had asked Lily what was going on–she was more confined that ever. She hadn't been let out of her bed for five days, and she was aching for movement. Sitting still in this prison-like room, with the white walls glaring at her for her only diversion, she had dropped into fitful sleep.
Sleep, for her, invariably meant seeing her father walk down the street, only to be hit by a speeding red something, and she would see him on the sidewalk, with blood spilling out of his skull. And if it wasn't that, it was her mother–she would see her mother driving their car under a bridge or a tunnel, and then the building would crash onto her, even though that wasn't at all how her mother died. And she would scream–see her mother or father breathe his or her last–once it had been their last–breath, see their chests stop moving, and she would start to scream and scream…
Yes, it was a definite relief to Madam Pomfrey to have Lily leave her ward. When she was allowed to, the next morning, she simply dashed out, not waiting for anyone else. She had grabbed the book she was reading (still Sofies Welt, but now she was studying the part dealing with Democrates) and flitted out of the room. It was seven in the morning and still dark outside, it being November, but that didn't prevent Lily from hurriedly putting two pieces of toast together, slipping them into her pocket, and dashing outside.
It was beautiful–the moonlight, almost iridescent, was throwing long, dark, indigo shadows onto the snow, and the fresh coat of white on the ground was soft to look at; none of the usual blinding white. Lily simply walked about a bit, enjoying the use of her stiff legs and reveling in the comfortable chillness of the morning. And when the sun peeked over the lake, throwing red, pink, orange, and golden streams of light over everything, Lily wished she had her drawing materials. Sighing with pure contentedness, she let herself fall in the middle of the lake; the ice on it was four inches thick and growing. She didn't feel any coldness at all; on the contrary, she flipped her book open and began to read.
She heard a few shouts when it began to get later in the morning, but it wasn't till Eva started running clear across the grounds and ice to get to her friend, nearly hugging the life out of her, that she dimly realized how much this one friend, at least, cared for her.
She was playing chess with Eva later that evening, telling her friend, shortly, what had stood in the letter. Eva's mouth was partly hanging open in horror, but she kept her comments to herself, thankfully. They were to leave for home the next morning–Eva and Vanessa were going home over the holidays so they could offer Lily and her sister a temporary home–, and Lily wasn't looking forward to this at all. She delayed getting into bed as long as she could, and when they finally dropped off, at around one, she couldn't have cursed the coming morning more heartily than she had wanted to.
Shoulders drooping, Lily threw her things listlessly into her trunk. She was half-swaying on her feet; the prospect of a Muggle orphanage frightened her only a bit less than the loss of both her parents. She boarded the train a half-hour before it left, and she was thankful when Eva and Vanessa joined her in a compartment, so as to keep her mind off of her problems.
They were playing Exploding Snap when the compartment door was flung open. Vanessa immediately hid her face behind her discarded robes, since she had been hit in the face with the blowings up of the cards several times and her eyebrows were scorched.
Severus stepped into the compartment. "Lily? You too busy?"
"Hum?" Lily stood up, brushing off her robes. "No. What–that is, why?"
He shrugged. "Can I talk to you?"
"Sure. Shoot!"
"Privately." He shot a glance at Eva and Vanessa, and they gave knowing smiles and left the compartment, leaving the curtains on the compartment door open. Severus rolled his eyes and yanked them shut, then took his place in a seat across from Lily.
"Lily? I–I heard about your dad–"
"Who hasn't?" She saw his somewhat hurt face and amended quickly. "I'm sorry; I'm just not dealing with that perfectly."
He nodded. "I think I understand. But–well, I just wanted you to know–well, if you don't have anywhere else to go, either me or Lucius would be glad to keep you."
Lily smiled. "Thanks. A lot. But I think I've got a place to stay."
He frowned. "Really? Where?"
Pulling her face into an obviously false grin, Lily spoke in an oddly perky voice. "I'm going to a Muggle orphanage, where they'll let me go to a wonderful public school around the corner! Think of that! I'm going to have so much fun!" She finished, and her smile dropped like a dead hippogriff.
Severus' eyes widened. "Really? That's terrible! You mean–you mean you're not coming back to Hogwarts?"
Lily shrugged. "The Ministry's trying to work something out."
He sat back. "That's terrible!"
"They'll probably not let me keep Alisande, since they don't understand what owls're for. This is going to stink! You'll have to teach your owl to come at night."
"Yeah…" He waved that aside, a bit preoccupied. "Lily?"
"Mm?"
"Remember that note I gave you, at the beginning of last summer?"

"No."
"At King's Cross?"
"Oh, yeah, that one!" Lily smacked herself in the head. "I never opened it. Oops."
"You know where it is?"
"Sort of." She shrugged. "I'll try to find it once I get home–or, once I get to my residence. I don't know if I'll even go home."
"Ah." He knitted his fingers together. "Well–read it, if you find it, and answer me, please."
"Can't you just tell me?"
"Nah–can't. On second thought–" he pulled a piece of parchment out and scribbled something on it–"this might work better. It's the newer edition."
Lily accepted it, laughed softly, and put it in her pocket. "Same instructions as last time?"
"Same instructions," he agreed.
"All right. Eva and 'Nessa, you can stop listening at the door now!"
Rather sheepishly, Eva and Vanessa walked inside and took their places as Severus left. The instant he did, the twins bombarded Lily with questions.
"What'd he tell you?"
"Did he ask you out?"
"Did he tell you anything good?"
"What happened?"
"Lily, did he–"
Lily stood up, quickly, knocking her book to the ground. She had caught sight of King's Cross through the window, and she was closer to fainting than she had been in the last few days. Eva and Vanessa spun around, saw the station, and shut their mouths, quickly, at the sight of Lily's white face.
Gulping audibly, Lily stepped off of the train, dragging her trunk along with her. She accepted a trolley Vanessa rolled over to her, and, eyes shut tightly, not wanting to not see her father when she walked through the barrier, she stepped in line, waiting for her turn to be shooed through the barrier by a guard.
When she had gritted her teeth, she walked through, slowly. Opening her eyes, she frantically searched the crowd. One face stood out–a laughing, welcoming face–she stopped walking–she couldn't; she was frozen to the spot–and then, she felt an excruciating pain hit her in the lower back and ankles, and she fell senseless back onto the trolley behind her.
Lily opened her eyes. Someone was lightly shaking her–Lily tried to sit up but found she couldn't.
"Dad?"
Her father, with the familiar scent of coffee and pipe tobacco clinging to his clothes, hugged her to his chest. "Shh. Shh. It's all right. It's all right."
Lily, for the first time since her mother's funeral, allowed herself to cry, to cry hot tears that soaked her father's suit. She was too exhausted to ask if this was a dream–if it wasn't, she didn't want to find out. She never wanted to wake up from this–from the steadying arms that were carrying her through the packed train station. Clutching madly the linen front of her father's shirt, the tears dropped from her bristly lashes, and, helpless and weak, with a sort of fire in her ankles and spine, she felt herself being carried to the car.
When her father placed her inside, the instant that he let her go and fastened the seat belt around her, she fell into another blackout and woke up only when he picked her up, carrying her into the house.
Mr. Evans opened the door with a quick twist, pulled the key out of the lock, and carried his frail, thin, almost lifeless daughter up the stairs to her room, where he placed her carefully on her bed. She opened her eyes briefly, said only one word–"Dad–" then closed her eyes and let her head fall back. He placed a light hand on her forehead, then, satisfied, he left the room, closing the door softly.
He went back down, where several parents were gathered–Amanda's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Doylen, their children, Severus and Lucius. He waved them to chairs around the dining room table, then put cups of coffee or cocoa in front of everyone. Placing his hands in his lap, he looked around at the children.
"Can someone please fill me in here?"
Everyone had been almost as stunned to see Mr. Evans as Lily had been, so they were a bit anxious. But Eva finally spoke.
"Sir–we thought–Lily got a message from Petunia–saying you were dead–and they had to go to an orphanage–"
Mr. Evans frowned. "Petunia sent this?"
Vanessa nodded. "Yes, sir."
They all turned towards the shy and scared sister sitting in the corner. Now, however, she was violently shaking her head.
"I didn't send that! I never did! I promise! Dad!"
They all looked at each other, and the silence was again broken by Mr. Evans. "And Lily's been believing I was dead for how long?"
Severus, Lucius, Eva, Vanessa, and Amanda shot questioning glances at each other–then Severus spoke. "About a week or two, sir."
"Ah." Mr. Evans stroked his chin thoughtfully. "And you've no idea where this came from?"
"No, sir." All of the five had responded simultaneously.
Later in the evening; eight o'clock to be exact, the doctor summoned by the Doylens' had gone, with the prescription of 'as many full meals as she can hold' to be administered as often as possible. Mr. Evans was sitting by his daughter's bedside, and she, ankles and back bound in a half-cast, half-bandage, stared at him while he talked to her, slowly, softly, explaining as much as he could.
"Lily, I'm so sorry you had to go through this."
Lily just stared at him, with nothing else than naked gratitude in her eyes. "Daddy, I was so scared."
He leaned forward and took her in his arms, hugging her tightly. "I know, dear. I know."
A few days later, three, to be exact, Lily could move about the house again. She and Petunia were busy as house-elves, getting everything ready for a Christmas Eve party they were hosting for many of Lily's Hogwarts friends and parents. And every time Lily remembered Severus' note, she was always running down the hallway to retrieve rising bread from the oven or whipping egg whites.

And it wasn't till the night before Christmas, when Lily was about to fall asleep, that she remembered what he'd given her.
Tiptoeing over to the jeans she'd worn that day, she pulled the wrinkled bit of parchment out of her pocked and unfolded it, slipping underneath her covers again.
Lily felt her jaw drop. Her eyebrows lifted almost up into the bangs that reached down to her shoulders, and she re-read the note.

Lily,

I know this is a really unopportune time to ask you this, with your father and all, but I wondered if this might help any. All right–to get right down to it–if you wouldn't be to busy this year, would you mind very much if we officially registered as a couple?

It remained the same. She hadn't made a mistake.
But, good grief, she was only thirteen! How could he expect her to start with the same things James and Serena were, with the drinking out of the same cup and everything else. Lily set the note aside and buried her face in her pillow, thinking hard.
I'm too young for this, she thought, there's no question about that. I'm not ready for anything like that, either. And I certainly don't like him enough for that. He's my friend, sure, but this–this was taking this a bit too far. And, besides–I can't handle this on top of everything else–on top of all the responsibility that sort of had been transferred to her after her mother died. I can't deal with this, she thought. I know I can't. But, help; how do I tell him that?
She rolled over, closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them, it was seven in the morning of Christmas Eve Day, and the warm smell of last night's rising bread was drifting through her room.
Lily sat bold upright. Running her fingers through her tousled hair, she remembered what she had read last night. She pondered over it while she drew the bread from the oven and let the cold water run over her in the shower, while she decorated the dining room with the macramé and straw ornaments and wreaths her mother had made a long time ago, while she and her sister placed the straw ornaments and candleholder clamps onto the Christmas tree in the living room, while they set up the small, wooden Nativity scene in the windowsill, while they dragged logs into the fireplace and placed small and large presents under the tree, while she set the large table in the dining room with the old china and the linen tablecloth embroidered with sprigs of holly. And by the time Lily changed out of her dusty, dirty T-shirt and jeans into the dark blue dress her mother had always worn, she hadn't found a satisfactory explanation to give Severus.
She smiled when she drew the old blue dress out of its box in the attic. They had always celebrated Christmas in somewhat of the German tradition in their house, but some traditions they had invented themselves. They had no grandfather to dress up as the Weihnachtsmann,, so, when Petunia and Lily were young, Mrs. Evans had donned her blue robe from one of her plays, and she played the role of Mary, presenting the gifts from others to her children, just as Lily believed Mary must have done to her own son.
Lily wasn't exactly religious; she and her family didn't attend church on Sundays, but still, there was a sort of magic quite different from what she learned at Hogwarts flowing through the old traditions, something that touched a chord inside of her and wrapped her in flowing warmth. And never once had the traditions grown stale; they simply became richer with each passing year.
The blue gown hadn't belonged to a Mary character; what Mrs. Evans really had played was Queen Guenevere in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, and it had all sorts of medieval trappings on it. But, when the trinkets and emblems were removed, it was simply a deep blue dress reaching down to the ankles, bound at the waist with a black sash embroidered in gold, with the ends hanging down and trailing behind her as she walked. Lily was pleased to find that, even though the dress trailed quite a bit, when she took the hem up in the front a bit, it fit her marvelously, still trailing, but this time gracefully, in the back. And when Lily had thrown the large, old, patched blanket around her shoulders, the only thing missing to make it a perfect picture was a mule or a donkey beside her.
She hadn't done anything much with her hair; simply tied it into a long braid that she pulled forward over her right shoulder. Her eyes were lit with fiery excitement and quenched with her unshed tears, remembering the years when her mother had done this. Removing every single bit of jewelry, Lily went downstairs, quickly pulling a sheet of Plätzchen out of the oven and setting stacks of Lebkuchen in small baskets at random places in the house, where guests could help themselves.
Petunia and her father were ready at six-thirty, a half-hour before everyone was asked to arrive. Her father looked nice, Lily thought, with his dark suit and cream shirt. Petunia had slipped a sprig of holly into his buttonhole, and the scent of his Indian tobacco smoke for his pipe was, as usual, clinging to him along with the holiday smells. Petunia looked nicer than usual, too; in a golden-tan dress that made her usually mousy-brown hair shine with a sort of golden tint to it. The sisters caught each other's eye, smiled nervously, and, as they were placing the last presents under the tree, the front doorbell rang.
Lily almost laughed to see Petunia's nervousness at meeting so many wizards at one time, and she sprinted lightly to the door, holding a candle in each hand; the candles placed inside the golden candlesticks she had inherited from her mother. With the alacricity of a spirit, she threw the door open, letting the golden light from the candles shine out onto the new-fallen snow.
"Welcome, welcome, strangers!" She laughed lightly and pulled Eva and Severus inside, beckoning the rest to follow.Shutting the door softly, Lily busied herself with removing everyone's coats and cloaks, hanging them up on the racks lining the hall and brushing snowflakes out of Miranda, Amanda, Eva and Vanessa's hair. The twins were dressed in matching dark red robes tied at the waist with a thin green sash, and Amanda wore a calf-length cream-colored skirt with an emerald-colored blouse.
All three of them looked very nice, as did the boys, who had come without their parents, who had gone to other parties. Lily had to swallow a giggle when she welcomed them in. Lucius was wearing long black robes, as were Severus, John, and Nigel, but they reminded her of medieval monks, with the hoods drawn over their heads. But when they had removed the cloaks, they looked more normal, and they had to laugh along with her as she drew them into the living room.