The rest of the afternoon and the night, while rain and bits of branches hit the windows and walls of the castle, the party in Gryffindor House raged.  Lora and Sirius had managed to sneak the trophy out of its position in the trophy room, and it was standing proudly in the middle of the common room.  James would have helped, but as one of the Quidditch heroes, his disappearance would have been noticed, and so would his reappearance from underneath an Invisibility Cloak.  He was also rather incapable of moving without wincing and groaning a bit, as he seemed to be the major target for the Slytherin Beaters.

Remus, Sirius, Peter, and Lora had made their way down to the kitchens before the Gryffindors returned.  Within a good quarter-hour, they were back with half of the food that had been made for the Gryffindor dinner table, including sausages, custards, pastries, puddings, ice cream, cakes, éclairs, treacle tarts—everything they could sneak out of the kitchens. 

The house-elves were falling over each other to hand them as many platters and pitchers as they could, and they ended up having to make five trips each.  Sirius and Remus made several secret trips to Hogsmeade for candy from Honeydukes and butterbeer from The Three Broomsticks, which was meanwhile giving them a discount, as they always bought such a large amount for the parties.

The result was magnificent.  The common room was piled high with everything they could imagine when it came to sweets, and Gryffindor banners were smothering the windows and walls.  Lora had even managed to lure a fairy into the room, and it took its place on top of the Quidditch cup, sparkling with glee.

Everyone was laughing that night, and everyone, including Serena, Elspeth, and Diana, stuffed their faces until they couldn't hold any more. 

It was after the party that the real studying for the exams began; not only Lily was burying herself in the library.  It was usually crowded during the evening hours they had free, and every single fifth, sixth, and seventh year was edgier, if possible, than they had been the last year. 

The Gryffindors and some Slytherins were swamping Lily with requests to get them books from the Restricted Section of the library, and Madam Pomfrey was keeping her at her wits' ends for excuses on why she needed books entitled Grotesque Transformations:  The Secret Behind it all or Transfigurations to be Avoided.

Easter holidays went by so quickly that the students hardly noticed they had passed.  Peter had actually asked James when they would start, a week after they had passed.  It had provided a large laugh when James interrupted the common room's studying, and Peter got several crumpled bits of parchment thrown at his head.

April and May passed quickly.  Professor Dorvan was putting double the strength of the Imperious Curse on them, and they were finding it harder and harder to resist.  Hardly anyone could throw it off, and when she advanced to triple the strength, they were starting to become desperate.  Each and every student, including Lily, would be limping along to the Great Hall for dinner after doing impossible flips and handstands, and throwing the curse off in the middle of them. 

James and Peter returned from Care of Magical Creatures with scars on their wrists; they were trying to tame griffins, creatures with the front legs and head of a giant eagle and body and hind legs of a lion.  It was rumored that experts could tame it, but James said darkly that there were no experts in England, then, including Professor Kettleburn.

The morning of the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests was a beautiful day, in contrast to the storms and drizzles they had been having. 

"We are cursed," James mumbled as he dragged his feet into the Great Hall.  "We are, quite simply, without a question of a doubt, cursed."
"Cursed?" Lily sniffed, who was walking next to him.  "How so?"
"We are!  Normal people wouldn't have to do this—this—"

"James, it's only an exam," she stated wearily.

"Yeah, but an exam that could kill us!"

Lily groaned.  "I give up."
"That works.  But sit next to me, okay?  I haven't quite figured out what the point is of burning dragon's blood to make that acidy potion…"

It was much harder than the Ordinary Wizarding Levels had been; in the first place, there were more questions, and they were covering things that most of the students had only heard once in a lifetime and never remembered, like what color the hippocampus was that was caught by merpeople off the shores of Scotland in 1949.  The answer was pale blue, but some later revealed that they had given answers like 'sixteen'.

The day passed more quickly than they thought it would; by three o'clock, the sixth year as a whole was finished, and they were free to leave.  They weren't free of studying yet, though; Lily, the Marauders, Lora, and quite a few others were hurrying to their books for tomorrow's Divination test, an exam that most of them would very probably fail.  Lily was surer of herself than most of the Gryffindors; she knew that she could make up things easily, and she was going to, if that was the only way to make a perfect grade in that class.

Professor Trelawney gave one of the most idiotic exams any of them had seen yet, though they were glad that they hadn't received a harder assignment.  They had to, using crystal balls, tea leaves, palms, and calculations, predict the amount of N.E.W.T.s they would receive.

Backwards psychology was needed here; all of the students except about one or two gave an impossible answer after giving up on the divination part.  They told her that they would receive three N.E.W.T.s, which she loved; pessimism was her favorite aspect of her profession.  She didn't seem to recognize that no one, ever, had received three N.E.W.T.s; it was impossible to obtain below five.

Lily, on the other hand, knew almost exactly what score she was going to get, and, quite honestly, she told Professor Trelawney that she would accept twenty-two N.E.W.T.s, which was the amount of O.W.L.s she got last time.  Professor Trelawney wasn't too pleased, but she couldn't fail Lily, because she knew that Lily would get that many or more, since she had ranked at the top of the fifth years in the magical world. 

Finally, after a long, grueling week of testing, they were free, liberated, released from the monotony of the Great Hall and the scratching of quills on parchment, they had no more classes or testing to sit through, and they could lie on the grass in front of the castle and blow soap bubbles at the giant squid's eyes to their heart's content.

It was even hotter than it had been last year, which seemed almost impossible.  But it was more comfortable next to the lake, which offered cool breezes that flowed over them.  Scattered all over the lawns, Hogwarts' student population sprawled, talking lazily to each other, performing Freezing charms on their friends' hair, and poking their not-so-well-liked classmates with Tarantallegra hexes, which, besides the rather embarrassing quickstep one was forced to do, made a sweat break out, and the teachers had forbidden anyone from even dipping their toes in the lake.  Actually, they had threatened the loss of one hundred and fifty points to the student's House that even waded into the lake, but they had gotten the idea.

Lily was sitting cross-legged in a group composed of Sirius, Remus, Peter, James, Lora, Amanda, and Eva.  Serena, Elspeth, and Diana had gone inside, after they had learned how to perform the Freezing charm properly, at which they had received the idea to charm the atmosphere in their dormitory.  Lily snickered to herself, and when they had vanished, she burst out laughing. 

She had tried that before, and it hadn't worked, at least not in the way she had thought it would.  It simply froze one molecule of the air at a time, and it was an impossible task to charm an entire dormitory one molecule at a time before school let out.

James frowned—he knew what she was laughing at, and he filled his friends in, too.  He was the only one that wasn't laughing at the end of his small speech.

"You mean they're going to be freezing air, one molecule at a time?"

"Oh, what idiots!"

"Well, looks like someone's going to lose their temper rather soon."

"Exactly; it would take them years!

James hit Sirius with the back of his hand.  "Cut it out, will you?"

"Why?"

James glared at him.

"Oh, okay, okay!  Fine.  I won't laugh now.  May I snicker when she accidentally freezes herself?"

James glared at him.

"Okay, okay!  Calmness…a virtue of great sorts…James, I won't pick at her."
Lora's face widened into a smile, and James rounded on her.  Her grin dropped.

"You ruin all the fun.  Fine.  I won't, either."                 

"Good."

Lily couldn't resist.  "Just one little bitty snicker?"
It turned out that Serena didn't lose her temper; and she didn't do anything undignified of sorts.  She simply reappeared, with her school robes off, and wearing only shorts and a short-sleeved shirt.  It was no more extreme than anything anyone else was wearing, but on her it looked…well, it looked vulgar.  She had a talent for that.

Quickly, the week passed, and Professor McGonagall was handing out their marks at breakfast on Saturday.  There were excited squeals and disgruntled groans; satisfied "Phew!"s and disappointed "But…"s.  The noises of tearing paper could be heard all through the Great Hall, into the entrance hall, and out onto the grounds.

James leaned back in his seat with a satisfied grin on his face after ripping his envelope in half and tearing his mutilated letter out.  He had received thirteen N.E.W.T.s—he only had had twelve Ordinary Wizarding Levels last year.  Coolly slurping a glass of pumpkin juice, he listened, pleased, to Serena's congratulatory squeals.

On Lily's part, she turned the parchment envelope over and over before opening it, fingering the ruby wax seal and her name written in sparkling emerald ink at least seven times prior to slitting it open with her butter-knife and pulling out her marks, also written in the glittery green liquid.

Dear Miss Evans,

Your scores are, for the following classes:

Transfiguration:  115%

Potions:  119%

Defense Against the Dark Arts:  125%

Charms:  156%

Herbology:  121%

Astronomy:  132%

Divination:  97%

Anatomy:  119%

A Study of Ancient Runes:  128%

Dear Miss Evans,
We are pleased to inform you of your scores for the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests (N.E.W.T.s).  We would like to remind you that these are internationally standardized exams and that your score reflects your progress in comparison to other young wizards and witches of your age.
The amount of Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests you may hope to obtain is thirty; though hardly five wizards and witches per magical school obtain above twelve.
Your placement is, out of the sixth year Hogwarts examinees: 1 out of 151
Your placement is, out of the sixth year European examinees: 1 out of 18,954
Your placement is, out of the sixth years attending magical schools, excluding homeschools: 1 out of 10,984,853
You have earned the honorable degree of twenty-four (24) Exhausting Wizarding Tests (N.E.W.T.s).
With our congratulations, we are

The International Board of School Directors

Lily looked up in a daze.  They used exactly the same wording as they had when they gave her her scores for the O.W.L.s, but still…her fifth year, her scores were tops, and now this…She floated in a sort of dreamland until her marks were snatched out of her hands.

Sirius glanced up and down the parchment.  "You didn't!"

Lora, puzzled, leaned over.  "What?"

"She got top scores.  Again."

"Top scores—lemme see that."  James ripped the letter cleanly out of Sirius hands and nearly choked on his pumpkin juice.

"Excuse me?  What is this—out of the sixth years attending magical schools, excluding homeschools:  1 out of ten million something?  And I thought I was good!  You officially make me want to hit you!"

Smiling composedly, Lily retrieved her letter from his hands and folded it up, placing it in her pocket.  Inside, however, she wasn't nearly as unruffled as she appeared; she was tumbling and turning cartwheels and leaping off of two thousand-foot-high cliffs into the sea…

Eva simply beamed at her from across the table; she knew how her friend was feeling.  "Lily, that's wonderful!"

Eva herself had received nine O.W.L.s; she had done quite well, in comparison with some of the other fifth years.  Amanda had nine, too; Lora had ten N.E.W.T.s; Sirius had twelve, Remus ten, and Peter seven.  Lucius and Severus showed her theirs later on that day; each of them had eleven, and each pair of eyes that saw hers almost detached their own nerve cells and flicked themselves out of their skulls.

Almost unaware of them all, the holidays were coming up quickly.  The morning of their departure, Lily was halfheartedly sitting on her bed, placing folded robes inside her trunk, and dreamily staring out of the window.

"I don't want to go back.  I feel more at home here than I ever will…with the people here…they're more of a family to me than anyone else in the world.  I know we fight, but so do siblings…"

The sunlight poured onto her upturned face as she gazed at a flock of birds circling the sun.

Before they boarded the train, Professors McGonagall, Maar, Flitwick, and Dorvan were handing out end-of term notices saying they weren't allowed to use magic over the summer—Lily and all the rest either made faces or groaned as they received these.  Still, they used the rest of the time they had with each other to pile into compartments and to pull out games; Lily shared one with Lora, Eva, Amanda, and Vanessa.  They had set up a game of chess on one of the seats; Lily and Eva were sitting on the two next to the chessboard; Amanda and Vanessa were challenging each other to a game of Exploding Snap, and Lora was building a card castle out of the remaining Exploding Snap cards, knocking it over and singeing someone's sleeve whenever she thought they looked too interested in what they were doing. 

Finally, Lily sat back and sighed, having just taken Eva's queen.  "You know, Eva—somehow I doubt whether anything'll stay the same."

Eva looked up, surprised.  "What?  Of course it will; what are you saying?"

"Nothing," Lily checked herself.  "I just wish things didn't have to change…"

"Nothing lasts forever," Lora intoned, sounding exactly like a bad actress in a terribly written play—unbelievable and fake.

"I know, I know…still, it would be nice if it did,"

The Hogwarts express roared on through the countryside, spilling grey smoke into the air…

They all spattered out onto the platform at King's Cross as soon as it stopped; in the case of James and Sirius, before it stopped.  The platform was filled with waiting families and grinning siblings, shouting welcome banners for the former seventh years and some lower years, and a pleased, family-like racket and mayhem everywhere.  Casting one longing glance at a child that was given a large kiss on the cheek by her mother and swung into the air by her father, she markedly turned her trolley towards the barrier.  Closing her eyes to shut out the families all around her, she pushed her luggage through it.

Lily opened her eyes to the Muggle world of King's Cross.  It was as usual; hurried men and women in correct business suits were walking past with absolutely no consideration for the children that had popped through a stone wall.  Lily cast a glance around, looking for her parent and sister, but she couldn't find them; she had already walked to the entrance of the train station before she saw them hurrying towards her.

With a vague, uncertain smile on their faces, Petunia and her father greeted her.  By now, Petunia was seventeen, and she was starting to look down on her little sister.  Her father, on the other hand, almost froze at the half-glare Lily gave him before she remembered what James had tried to hammer into her head and checked herself.

"Hello, Father, Petunia," she greeted them, more constrained than she had ever said anything to them before.

"Lily, you're here…good.  Er—let me get your trunk—you can't carry that…"

Lily felt herself surrounded by something unpleasant; the familiar, warm atmosphere that had surrounded her at Platform 9 and ¾ had utterly vanished when she met her father and sister…a strain of something close to dislike had spread over the barrier between them.  When her mother was alive, nothing had ever been like this…

She was quieter than she had been in months; without a word, she settled into her room, quietly, she unpacked her trunk and went down to dinner.

Lily wasn't used to the silence that had draped itself over the dinner table that night; she wasn't used to the turkey that still had its innards in the plastic bag inside it (Petunia had forgotten to remove it), and even less familiar was she with the glances she kept getting shot with from her father and sister. All in all, it was an extremely uncomfortable meal, and Lily felt herself wishing that she was anywhere else; by now, even a black hole was sounding interesting and as if it contained edible, well-cooked food.
After dinner, Petunia had removed herself to her room, and her father was busily attacking a heap of papers on one end of the dining-room table, while Lily, with a sigh, moved over to the sink, pulled out a dishcloth from a drawer, and started to wash the plates on the counter.
No one really spoke much that evening; as a matter of fact, the only thing that was said was "Petunia, what is that?" which was stated after her father had accidentally bitten into a piece of the plastic bag with turkey intestine inside it. Lily slipped into bed with the deepest dissatisfaction imprinted onto her forehead; in other words, she was frowning.

Over the next few days, her father dragged her around to several of his business parties or dinners; Lily honestly didn't see the point of this; if his business was as in as much trouble was he said it was, why bother to host parties? She met only one or two people her age there; one a girl with dishwater blond hair, unmatching rings in the hundreds, and a purple dress that reminded Lily rather strongly of an eggplant. She wasn't very friendly, either; her name was Gertrude Richardson, and she liked peas, as she informed Lily on their first meeting.
The other person she met was actually two years older than she was. His father owned a large company, the name of which meant about as much to Lily as "Bzzrjwilk" did, but he evidently expected her to recognize it.

If he hadn't been acting as annoyingly superior as he was, Lily would actually have found him handsome; he had blond, cornsilk hair and sea-grey eyes, or, unromantically, hair that looked like it had come into too much contact with the bleach usually found next to washing machines and cement-colored holes in his head.  Still, the latter description wasn't one that jumped to Lily's mind; she leaned towards the former. 

He was dressed in a grey business suit, which made him appear at least two years older than he was.  Lily didn't think she would like to talk to him much at first, but he came over to her while she was trying to salvage her white dress from a punch stain, handed her some napkins from the table, and tried to help her.  Both of them started to laugh when she shredded one of the paper napkins into tiny pieces trying to get the red stain out of her dress, and by the time they had stopped, Lily had decided he wasn't so bad to talk to. 

His name was Richard Walden, he went to a boarding school somewhere in Wales, he liked cats but couldn't stand the fur they kept shedding (he had five), his birthday was December fourteenth; he worked at a bookstore even though his father could have bought seven of the same shops and never have noticed the difference in his bank account, he loved anything about the ancient Egyptians; he wanted to become an archeologist when he was older, and couldn't wait to get out of the house so he could travel places. 

She kept seeing him again; at almost every business dinner she was forced to go to, he was there.  Serena had attended several of them; Rowland Sikora had started going deeper into trying to understand Muggle ways of life, so he was taking an interest in several firms and their job openings; he was planning to give the jobs to several wizards that would be happy to take them.  Serena tried to talk to Richard and Lily (well, actually, Richard), but Lily's new friend didn't seem to like her much; he hardly talked to her and looked rather bored when she was speaking to him and flicking her hair over her shoulder for effect.

One evening, about three days before Lily's birthday, she was at another event; this one was the grand opening of a theatre.  Her father had almost literally pushed her into a dark grey, floor-length dress, and she was wearing a necklace of paste diamonds.  She had been rushed out of the house in such a hurry that she hadn't had time to put her hair up in a knot; it was hanging down her back, loose, when they arrived at the theatre.

Almost magnetically, Richard found her; threading through the crowd, he took her arm; they joined the crowd that stood around a fat, old man with an ornamental knife in his hand; he was standing behind the blue ribbon furled across the doorway.  After a short speech, he raised the knife, and, with incredible force for a man so small, brought it down on the blue band, which tore in the middle.  The crowd outside filed in, and a society murmur of small-talk began drifting through the lobby.

Richard handed her a sliver of cake.  "It's not much, but more people showed up than I thought they would."

Lily smiled.  "That's all right—I don't think I'm all that hungry, anyway."  She accepted the napkin and plate; moving towards the wall, they found two chairs.

Richard shook his head, grinning.  "You know, I never expected to meet people here that I actually would like—thank goodness your father likes to take you along!"

She laughed.  "I thought the same thing—I never would have enjoyed these dusty old croaks telling me how red my hair is over and over and over again…You know, the most annoying things people tell you are usually obvious facts?"

Richard handed her a glass of something that looked like champagne and probably was.  "Like what?"
"Oh—" Lily shrugged.  "Like, 'You have punch on your dress,' or 'Your eyes are very green,' or even 'You don't look like you're forty.'  It's amazing, the things people come up with—I think they talk to keep from thinking."

"That's true!"  He laughed along with her.  "They probably do."

Just then, the cathedral's clock struck eight o'clock, and Richard pulled out a a grayish-blue box from inside his jacket.

"Lily?"

"Yes?" she asked, spinning around to face him.

"I—er, I brought you something…I don't think I'll see you again before your birthday, so…"  He handed her the package.  "I hope you like it."

Rather awkwardly, Lily reached for it.  "Thanks.  You didn't have to…you know that."

"Yes, but I wanted to.  Open it," he insisted.

She smiled at him and gently lifted the lid off of the box.  Inside was a small bracelet only an eighth of an inch wide, golden, with a miniature inscription in hieroglyphics on the inside and a larger one on the outside.

Lily looked up at him, her eyes sparkling.  "Thank you."

He grinned.  "If you translate it, it's a message I ordered the people that made it to put on there…"

"I've got a book on translations at home…well, actually, a bookshelf.  I'll do that first thing, then."
"Actually…"—here he looked rather embarrassed—"I'd rather you did it on your birthday…I meant it for then."

Surprised, she dropped the bracelet back into the box and slid it into her pocket.  "Of course, if you'd like."
"I would like, actually…"
"Then I'll do that," she smiled.

The evening of her birthday, Lily was sitting on the sill of her open window, dressed in only a white summer nightgown, staring outside at the night sky shot with dusky clouds.  Nothing special had happened that day; for all she experienced, it was just like any other.  Sill…well, this was her last summer at home, her last birthday she'd spend here.  She wasn't coming back here after she finished Hogwarts; she was accepting the job as a student or substitute professor at the school if she couldn't find a job elsewhere. 

It was sickening, the way people stayed out of her way here…Petunia had kept Vernon Dursley away from the house, and she herself hardly lived there while Lily was in the house.  She kept expecting her father to forbid her return to Hogwarts the next year, but he was either too nervous to or he had a good reason not to…

And no packages had come from her friends; not even a short Happy Birthday on a piece of parchment… For the first time in her life, Lily knew what it was to feel completely and utterly alone.  When her mother had died, she had still had friends, and when some people had deserted her, she still had others to stand by her.

Winking away tears, she took the grey-blue box out of her pocket and slid the lid off.  Picking up the golden bracelet, she dangled it in front of her eyes, then let it fall into the palm of her hand…Richard hadn't forgotten her…

She let the tears run freely down her face as she stared at the moonlight glinting off of the gold in her fingers.  Reaching for a book that she had placed on the floor beside her, she flipped to the alphabet of the ancient Egyptians.

She stayed up for the rest of the night, wanting to go to sleep but being unable to.  What she had read had brought something to her—a feel of assurance and support she hadn't felt in ages. 

Remember, someone, somewhere, loves you was written on the outside; the inside held this inscription:  And he may be closer than you think.

The next morning, one owl dropped by; Lora and Eva had sent her something; a journal, covered with garnet velvet.  Embossed in silver, on the cover, were the words:  A book someone will publish someday—no one has thoughts like you do!  Lora had written a short note on the inside, and she and Eva had signed it.

Lily,

Happy birthday, first of all.  Secondly, don't kill anyone before Hogwarts starts next term.  It's irreversible.

Lora & Eva

This be'eth from thine companion, Eve—Ignore her.  I know you won't kill anyone.  Have a good summer, a happy sixteenth, and I heard you made a friend already.  Can you introduce him to me?  Is he a wizard?  How often have you seen him?  (This from Lora, who has been reading over my shoulder.  Read this in an interrogatory, slightly displeased and slightly humorous tone) Is he stuck on you?

Eva & Lora, who really wanted her name first!

Is he stuck on you?  That sentence kept reverberating around inside her head for the rest of the day…

She saw Richard once before she received her letter for Hogwarts; at a speech at a private school she asked him what he meant by the inscriptions.

"Oh, nothing, really," he evaded—"I guess you'll find out some day."

"Is that a hint?"

"Maybe.  Ssh; Father's glaring at me—we'll talk later."

Maybe.

They didn't get to speak again that night; Lily's father insisted that she be in bed before ten-thirty, so she left without telling anyone that she was leaving.  After that, she didn't see him again that summer.

Lily was sitting at the kitchen table around ten in the morning near the end of July; she was glaring at the headline of the newspaper, though she hadn't bothered to read the headline.  It was the first time she had ever managed to stare at something for a half hour and not know what it said.

The large Hogwarts barn owl that swooped down through the window neatly dropped the envelope it was carrying on top of the newspaper, turning her attention from the headline that, as far as she was concerned, was informing the world about the dreadful infestation of fire ants to the Union of Snake Rings.  Lily picked up the letter, slit the envelope open, and drew the enclosure out.

Dear Miss Evans,

We are pleased to inform you of your selection for this year's Head Girl.  This is a great honor and responsibility that you have been chosen to carry, and we ask you to treat it as such.  Your responsibilities will include, among other things, the control of the behavior of the students as far as your capabilities may reach.  You are permitted to remove or bestow points to or from Houses with a valid reason, and you are permitted to bestow detentions on students with a valid reason.  If you have any other questions, please address Professor Dumbledore.

Signed—Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

There was another sheet included, but at the bottom of the supply list there was another, formerly nonexistent, phrase, right beneath bellinger paste for Potions.

Dress robes.

Lily walked into Madam Malkin's Dress Robes for All Occasions rather awkwardly the next day.  She had never gone shopping for any sort of robes other than regular school ones, and she felt appallingly self-conscious as she perused ready-made ones and patterns and fabric samples. 

There were more kinds of robes in that store than she ever hoped to encounter; wide ones, tight ones, short, long, full, draping, trailing, short sleeves, long sleeves, trailing sleeves, low necklines, high necklines, square necklines...and the colors, too.  Lily's hand went out towards a forest-green crushed velvet pair of robes sewn with gold thread, with a gold cord and tassels that tied around the waist, but then she drew back; they were too expensive. 

Farther on back in the store were accessories; hats, cloaks, slippers, scarves, socks, and even corsets.  Lily's eyes widened when she saw those.  She had always wanted to wear one, and now she might have the chance—if only they didn't cost several fortunes apiece. 

As luck would have it, as she riffled through them, her hand fell on a dark indigo velvet corset that looked about her size—her hand quickly snatched for the price tag.  She breathed in relief.  Two Galleons—that wasn't so bad.

Madam Malkin came bustling over, with the everlasting pins in her mouth.  "Still looking, are we, dear?  Oh—look at you; hardly anyone wants these—but that one would look wonderful on you.  Let's see—what color scheme do you want to go with?  Oh—wait just a minute; I've got just the thing…"  She rustled off, leaving Lily with a rather discontented expression; she knew she'd have to turn down the expensive dress robes she knew the lady would fling at her.

Still, as she was shunted into a dressing room with the corset and a pair of white silk dress robes, so translucent, gauzy, filmy, diaphanous, and pearly she couldn't resist them, she made up her mind to try her best to buy them if they fit her.

They did fit her.  Long and graceful, they fell to the floor and swung gently when she moved.  The makers of it had used at least six yards of the silk for the body of the robes, so that they appeared beautifully white; no one could see through them at all.  The sleeves were ones that could be found on old fencing shirts; they billowed out below her wrist, but were gathered just at her wrist by a band of white satin that she could either tighten there or loosen, letting the sleeves hang below her hands, in the style of medieval noblewomen, who wore their sleeves so long that they had to tie knots in them so as to keep them out of their way. 

The oval neckline, when she slipped the corset on over her head, fringed her shoulders and front nicely, and Lily only wished she could pay for this.  In the mirror, she looked like an old-fashioned queen; the only time she had ever really wanted to look nice, she wouldn't be able to.  She hadn't ever looked this—this elegant, this—well, this thin in her lifetime, and, for once, Lily felt that she looked like someone people wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen with.

There was no price tag on the dress, so when she emerged from the fitting room, she had to move towards the front of the store, where Madam Malkin was wrapping up a pair of black robes for a small and frightened Muggle first year.

She didn't interrupt just yet; there was a mirror near a stand of hats, and she stepped in front of it, twirling slightly, feeling the silk, and looking at herself; something she hadn't done in ages.

When she turned around again to check whether Madam Malkin was finished, she caught a pair of eyes looking at her from the doorway.  Blushing a bit, she fumbled, looking for a stray thread, but there wasn't one.

Still, he stepped inside.  "Lily?"

Her face bright pink, she evaded his eyes.  "Hello."

Severus smiled at her.  "You look nice.  Are you getting those?"

"Oh—no," she stammered.  "No—I don't think so.  I don't even know what they're for…"

"Well, that's no reason not to.  You look beautiful; come on, you'll be the belle of whatever they're having."

"Thank you," she mumbled.  "I still don't know…"

Madam Malkin finally closed the cash register, and Lily gratefully took this moment to escape Severus.  She didn't know why, but she was feeling awfully shy all of a sudden, and she didn't like that.

"Er—Madam Malkin?"
The plump, middle-aged lady spun around.  "Yes, dear—Oh, my goodness, that looks nicer than I thought it would—turn around, sweet, and let me see—oh, yes, definitely, this one is specially for you…"

Lily had to interrupt the tirade.  "How much is it, please?"
"Oh, yes, the cost…well, we'll see.  Twenty Galleons, five Sickles, dear."

It had been too much to hope for.  Lily only had thirty-three Galleons and fourteen Knuts, total, for her school shopping, and she still hadn't gotten her books yet.  Twenty Galleons was just too much.

"Er—thanks.  Thanks very much."  She turned away from the lady and started looking through sashes to hide the momentary wet glimmer that had jumped to her eyes.

When she turned away from the sashes, her eyes were dry, and Severus was gone.  Thanking him silently for leaving, she threaded her way through the piles of dress robes on the floor that were slowly accumulating.

Then, as she was flitting behind a mirror, someone took her hand.

She spun around, and the person let go.

"I thought it was you."
"James?  What—what're you doing here?"
He smiled.  "Buying dress robes…same as you, I'm guessing."
"Oh—no, no, I'm not."

"Well, why're you wearing those, then?" he asked, gesturing to her attire.

"Oh—I'm not buying these—I'm not getting any."

He frowned.  "Why not?"  He saw her eyes lose the embarrassed glint; instead, a heartrending sigh took its place.

"You look beautiful."

Her eyes whipped to his.  "What?" she asked.  She couldn't quite grasp what he had just said…

"You look beautiful."

"Really?"

He smiled.  "Really."

"Er…thanks."

"Sure.  No problem.  I guess for once I don't have a problem with telling the truth."

She smiled.  "Thanks.  It's nice to know that you think so…oh, but never mind."  Her sweet manner was suddenly replaced with hurt impatience.  "Never mind, don't bother telling me that, I won't be wearing them, and you'll recognize me as the little electrocuted phoenix from your second year.  Please move—I'm going to change."  She started for the fitting rooms, but he held her back by an arm around her waist.

"Hold it, now—hold on!  What's wrong, Lil?"

"Nothing," she gasped out between frustrated tears that insisted on leaking out for no real reason whatsoever, besides embarrassing her in the middle of a store. "Nothing—please go away.  Please go away…you're making everything worse."

"Lil, what's wrong?"
"Oh!"  She whirled to face the mirror; she couldn't leave; he was pinning her to the wall.  Unwillingly, and in spite of all common sense, she started to cry again.  "It's just that…well, for the first time in my life, I want to look nice…and I get the chance to—and I can't pay for it—and it's driving me mad.  Please go away.  You're only making it worse."

His face cleared.  "Is that all?"

"Yes, that's it.  I know it's rather hard for the rich and famous James Potter to understand that one of the populace can't pay for a pair of dress robes, but—Oh, just leave!"

"Lily."  His firm tome made her turn around.  "If that's what's bothering you—then I'll get them for you."

"No."  Her voice was firm.  "I don't take charity."

He smiled.  "You're very proud, aren't you?  This isn't charity.  I forgot about your birthday, and I'm making it up to you.  Take it.  You wouldn't return a birthday gift, would you?"
In spite of herself, Lily had to laugh.  "You do find the oddest ways of getting around me, don't you?"

"Oh," he sighed, grinning, "you're fun to talk to."

Helplessly, she smiled through curtains of tears.  Then, on an impulse, she did something that surprised both of them; she flung her arms around his neck in a strangling hug, still crying almost hysterically into his shoulder.

She let go quickly, however.  "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to do that.  I just felt so—well, happier than I've been in a long time."

He shrugged.  "I didn't mind so much.  So—how much is this creation," he asked, appreciatively eyeing the silk.

"Twenty Galleons and five Sickles—I can pay ten of them, and I can pay for the corset—"

"Oh, no, you're not!  I forgot about your birthday, remember?  This goes on me."
"James Potter!"

"Hey, if you don't accept them, I'll buy them anyway and throw them over a bridge.  You're wearing these to that event we're having, or I'll have a good reason why not."

A last tear ran down her cheek.  "Thank—you—" she managed.