Fade IV
Author's notes: Fade is my baby, and I've been reluctant to finish it for that reason, so I apologize for the delay. It was made possible by the support of the following people: Zsenya, for her editing and consultation skills; Caitlyn, for listening to me whine about James; Hallie and Brandon, my faithful test-readers; and my mom, for making sure I didn't fail out of university in the interim. Special mention goes to Gabriella and noahdia, who may or may not be the same person, for nagging me until I finally finished.
Standard disclaimers apply.
Out
James woke up the morning after the holidays started feeling like he ought to go back to bed, but it was freezing cold and he couldn't sleep any longer, so he got up.
The minute his feet touched the floor, he jumped back under the covers. The floor was like ice! He cast about for his slippers for a moment before grabbing his wand and Summoning them from the other side of the room. Why the hell was it so cold?
James shuffled out the door, closing it behind him when he saw the mess in the small study. Almost everything in the room was covered in white- somehow the snow had found its way inside. He stared dumbly for a minute before tracing its origins with his eyes. Lily's door was open, and there seemed to be a good deal more snow on the floor in her room, so it was a good bet that that was where it was coming from.
Wading through ankle-deep snow at ten in the morning was not James' favourite thing. When he finally got to her open window, the obvious source of both the snow (which was coming in almost horizontally) and the cold, it took most of his strength to slam it closed against the wind.
James took a minute to Vanish the snow before removing his slippers again to cast a Warming Charm on his toes. "Couldn't even close the bloody window before she left," he muttered, using magic to dry the rug. There were papers scattered all over, several of them smudged beyond legibility from the snow. "That's what you get," he said, gathering them up and depositing them on Lily's desk. Without really meaning to, he started scanning the top paper.
30 November, 1977
Lily,
It happened last night in his sleep. He isn't in pain anymore, honey. We have to be thankful for small blessings.
Petunia's fiancé has suggested putting the house up for sale. I know you won't like it, sweetheart, but I can't afford it without your father and anyway, you and Pet will be moving out soon.
The funeral is on the tenth. I've already made the arrangements with the Headmaster to get you home early.
Love,
Mum
James put the letter down, feeling like the worst sort of arse. He remembered when Lily had received it- she had been in the study, writing one essay or another, and he'd been hiding in his room with the door open only a tiny crack. When she'd opened the window to admit her owl, Artemis, the pressure change had opened the door to his room, as well. He'd seen her face go white, and she'd knocked over her inkwell, but she hadn't noticed.
He'd cursed himself multiple times for his outburst earlier that month, but that moment had been a new emotional low.
Lily and most of the rest of the school had left yesterday on the train, leaving James, Sirius, Remus and a handful of others to partake in the holiday gloom of Hogwarts all by themselves. Ordinarily it didn't get to them so much, but this year it was oppressive- this year, the reason there were students staying at Hogwarts was that it wasn't safe at home. The reason most of the students had gone home for the holiday was that it wasn't safe anywhere.
James sighed and wandered back to his bedroom, pulling two robes on over his pajamas and still shivering.
He only made it halfway to breakfast before his father's owl found him. "Hullo, Mio," he said fondly as the odd bird alighted on his arm. "They're lonely already, are they?" He unrolled the parchment tied to his leg.
James,
Meet me in Dumbledore's office today at eleven.
Dad
James frowned. His father and Dumbledore had not been on the best of terms since that summer's Order of the Phoenix fiasco, after which James had been treated as a child and Dumbledore had been unfairly blamed for his involvement. The whole conversation- and his parents' insistence that he be excluded from it- still gave him a headache when he cared to think of it.
Something terrible had happened if Henry Potter was willing to be in the same room with Albus Dumbledore.
There was nothing he could do for it except show up when the note asked him to, and hope the two older men didn't rip each other apart before he got there. Few people had seen the wrath of Albus Dumbledore and lived to tell of it, and James had the sneaking suspicion that his father was one of them.
At five to eleven he stood in front of the gargoyle's staircase. "Sugarplums."
He didn't hear any curses as he went up the steps, but he didn't know if that was a relief or something that he should worry about.
He worried. The second he stepped into the office and saw his father's slouch, he worried. When his father didn't turn to look at him right away, he worried. Dumbledore's grave expression gave him further cause for panic. He sank into the chair next to his father and looked up at the Headmaster. When he found words to speak, the flat tone of his voice surprised him. "Mum's dead, isn't she."
His father's shoulders shook a little, and he finally turned to regard his son. James didn't flinch at the bloodshot eyes, the unshaven face, the lines that had appeared in only a few months. "There was an attack on St. Mungo's," he said, as if that explained everything.
It explained enough. "I'll go pack my things."
Earlier in the year, when James had appeared back home after rescuing Lily Evans from mortal peril, there had been a good deal of conflict between him and his father regarding James' involvement in the Order of the Phoenix. Henry Potter had been adamant: James was too young, too inexperienced, too reckless; the Order was too new, too dangerous, too serious. James' reply had been laced with equal parts stubborn duty and righteous anger; he was old enough, strong enough, and smart enough, and if his generation didn't show any support for the right side in the war then the Order of the Phoenix might just as well surrender right now.
It had been a trying summer.
This time, when James arrived at home, there was no longer any controversy between them regarding the Order. He felt a little guilty- more than a little, if he were honest with himself; if something happened to him it would leave Henry Potter with no one. But his father understood the need to make a difference now more than ever.
The house, despite the abundance of decoration and cheerful fairy lights, didn't feel right. James sat and stared blankly into the fire.
Neither father nor son wanted dinner; neither of them was feeling up to it.
Who would attack sick people? James wondered, but in his head he already knew that it wasn't the sick who had been attacked. The Healers had had to make a choice between staying and defending their patients and running for safety. Voldemort's Death Eaters had drawn a line in the sand- between those who were brave enough to oppose the dark and those who would rather not take sides. It was an important division, and James suspected that it would only become more so. It wasn't those that were sick now that would suffer; ultimately, it would be those who dared defy Voldemort in the future and were injured doing so that would pay the price.
The first real battle was over, and the wrong side had won.
They'd only just got home from the funeral when Dumbledore appeared in the front hall, still dressed in his funeral blacks. He had the grace to look abashed, if only for a second, before he said, "Henry, I'm afraid I need to borrow your son for a day or so."
James, who had been halfway through removing his heavy winter cloak when Dumbledore had begun speaking, took a step backwards and half-stumbled on it, looking askance at his father.
The elder Potter looked as uncomfortable as James felt. He didn't want his father to worry about him, especially after what had just happened to his mother--
"There is no one else who can go?" James' father asked tiredly.
Dumbledore shook his head. "None so qualified. I promise you, Henry, I will not send him knowingly into a fight with so little experience. It is a matter of babysitting, of making sure someone doesn't do anything regrettable."
Henry nodded and clapped James on the shoulder before pulling him into a reluctant hug. "Be safe," he whispered, and James watched him walk from the room, dumbstruck.
Finally, he turned his attention back to his mentor. "It's Lily again, isn't it, sir?" he asked, feeling a little bit sick to his stomach.
"Someone has tripped the wards we put up around the Evans house, yes. The guard we had posted saw her slip into the woods behind the house, so we're fairly certain she's safe. What you need to do is find her, make sure she doesn't try to go back, make sure she's not followed. Take her into Ottery St. Catchpole- it's a long walk, but the Death Eaters probably won't think of it. There is an inn there called the King William- someone from the Order will meet you there tomorrow morning. Do you understand?"
James, feeling a little overwhelmed, could only nod.
Dumbledore pressed a few items into his hand- a map, a Muggle-style wallet filled with pound notes, a folded piece of paper. "Those are your further instructions. Burn them after you've read them. And good luck."
"Will I need to Apparate?"
"As I understand it, Miss Evans has not yet had a chance to have her examination. The map is a Port-key; it should activate shortly. Keep safe, Mr. Potter."
He took a deep breath. "I will." He felt the familiar jerk behind his navel, and the house disappeared.
Finding himself in a secluded wood, James scanned with all his senses for any sign of another human. He appeared to be alone, so he took out the note from Dumbledore.
Nine a.m. sharp. Your contact will be wearing blue robes and drinking orange juice. Don't use any vocalized magic, they have ways of detecting it.
Below that were a few lines of dialogue; the brown set was his, the blue, his contact's. He memorized them quickly before concentrating and burning the note in his hand. Then, tucking the map and wallet into his robes, he closed his eyes and changed.
Everything came back into view, half-divided at the front, and he took a moment to recover from his disorientation. Then, turning the gigantic stag's head from side to side, he sniffed. Nothing.
He sniffed again. His nose was nowhere near as sophisticated as Padfoot's, but even a stag could smell a human in a forest. He followed the scent as best as he could- he couldn't hear anything at all. At least Lily knew enough to be quiet.
Too intent on his objective, James skirted the edge of a clearing. Damned stag's eyes are good for nothing, he thought to himself, wondering if his Animagus form could use glasses. He turned his head a bit to get a better view, and reluctantly took another two steps into the clearing.
A startled gasp off to his left nearly scared the stag's senses into flight, but James managed to keep his other mind from taking off with the body. When he focused his eyes, he was not surprised to see Lily a mere ten feet away. Bugger all, she wasn't supposed to see me like this.
He darted back into the woods again just as he heard Lily take off in the opposite direction. He dragged his thoughts together and pushed…
The stag-body faded and the boy-body grew in its place, and James took off running after her before he lost her again. It probably wasn't the best idea to run right away. His legs always seemed to have a mind of their own after a change, and that mind was convinced that there were four legs rather than just two. He had almost caught up with her when he slipped in a pile of snow and fell face-first into a tree.
"Bugger," he said with feeling, knowing Lily's wand was already trained on him. He rubbed his nose. It didn't seem to be broken. Neither were his glasses, thankfully.
The look on her face was priceless. "Potter? Are you stalking me?"
"Ha," he said, wincing and flexing his ankle experimentally. Also not broken. What luck. "Sort of." He stood up.
Lily took a step back, keeping her wand trained on him. "Keep your hands where I can see them. How do I know you're really James?"
"Nobody else likes you enough to follow you into the scrapes you get yourself into," he said dryly. "I can kiss you to prove it's me, if you like."
She put her wand away. "What the hell are you doing here?"
He wiped a smear of blood from his upper lip with distaste. "Running into trees, it would seem. Dumbledore sent me to keep an eye on you when the wards were breached."
"I don't need a babysitter."
What was it that I liked about this girl? "Fantastic. I'll just leave you to your own devices, shall I? Only make sure you don't use too much magic, because the Death Eaters have set up field detectors and will hunt you down if you do. Have a nice day." But he made no move to leave her by herself.
She sighed heavily, and he noted for the first time how worn she looked. "Sorry. It's just- I'm worried. What happened to my mum? Did you see?"
He shook his head, biting down on the flash of pain he felt when she mentioned her mother. "I just got a Port-key drop into the forest. Dad won't let me fight properly until I've been through Auror training, so Dumbledore sent me after you."
"Right." Lily looked about her warily, and James found himself doing the same. Suddenly, the woods were far too quiet. "So what's the plan?"
She was almost whispering, and he was glad. "I've got a map. There's a road somewhere in that direction," he gestured vaguely to the north. "We're supposed to follow it to a village." He looked up at the sky, wondering how many hours of light they had left. "And I suggest we hurry."
"Of course." Lily shivered, and James noticed that she wasn't wearing a coat.
Of course she's not wearing a coat, idiot. She ran out the back door when Death Eaters burst into the house. I'm sure warmth was the first thing on her mind. He wondered if she would accept his cloak if he offered it, and decided that she probably wouldn't.
Hands jammed into her pockets, Lily nodded at him. "Lead the way."
They skirted across the edge of the clearing, unwilling to cross in the open in case someone was out there looking for them. On the other side, James took out the map and checked the position of the sun again. It was already three in the afternoon, and in another hour or two it was going to be dark.
"The road should be just over the next hill," he said finally, shoving the map back into the pocket of his cloak. He looked at her. Even her nose was starting to turn blue. Bugger, bugger, bugger. James took off his cloak and handed it to her. "Don't refuse and don't give it back to me for at least an hour."
It was cold. In fact it was downright frigid. They had really best get a move on.
They found the road without much trouble, but figuring that the Death Eaters might know about it, too, they kept to the shadows and the trees that ran along it whenever possible. They had been going along in silence for perhaps an hour and a half when James broached the subject that had been occupying his mind for the past few miles. "I need to find a tree."
Lily looked at him around his scarf and raised an eyebrow. "I wonder where you might find one of those around here."
James rolled his eyes. "No," he said patiently, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I mean I need to find a tree, Lily. A private one."
He could see it in her eyes when comprehension dawned on her. "Oh. That kind of tree." She paused, biting her lip and looking at the ground. "Me, too."
Why does Fate hate me? James wondered. "Right. Um. Perhaps we ought to move a bit further away from the road, then. But not too far."
He left her standing guard a few shrubs away, facing the opposite direction, while he went to take care of his tree problem. It was weird. It wasn't weird to pee in the woods, but it was a little odd to be doing so while being pursued by Death Eaters with the object of his affections standing ten feet away. And, he realized once again, finishing as quickly as possible, it was cold.
Lily was waiting for him with bitten lip again. "Um. You wouldn't happen to have a tissue?"
Why can't I be struck by lightning? "Um." He didn't. "I have a handkerchief." Thank you, Dad, for your words of advice on how to be a gentleman. Carry a handkerchief. Keep a corkscrew in your shaving kit and a knife in your boot. Endeavor to never find yourself in a situation like this one.
"Oh." She was still looking at the ground, as if wondering what her next question should be.
"You can keep it," he added, pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to her.
She nodded and ran off behind a thicket, and James turned dutifully around and took his wand out of his sleeve. He was fairly certain that they hadn't been followed, but getting cocky at this point would be far more detrimental than being overly cautious. He guessed they probably had another hour worth of walking to do before they reached the village and the sun had set ten minutes ago.
Lily appeared by his side, her embarrassment seemingly gone. "How much longer?"
"About an hour," he answered, taking off his cloak again and handing it to her. She gave him back his scarf. "Let's go."
The next hour of silence was not as uncomfortable as the first had been, due in part to the location of strategically placed vegetation. It was, however, getting colder. James put his hands as far into his pockets as they would go; Lily held her wand at the ready inside one of his oversized sleeves. Sheer force of will kept his teeth from chattering. He seriously considered transforming into the stag; though it was self-Transfiguration and therefore undetectable, he decided against it. He wasn't quite ready to explain that to Lily just yet.
"I think we're here," Lily announced quietly, surveying the town. It was fairly small- just a few of the cross-streets were lit and only a handful of businesses were still open. "Ottery St. Catchpole, you said?"
"Ottery St. Catchpole," James affirmed. "We're looking for the King William Inn."
"Sounds classy."
"Do you want to get inside or not?" He knew he did. Preferably before his fingers froze off. They stopped in front of the seedy-looking inn. A rotting wooden sign above the door read Kinge William: est. 1066; James believed it.
"Dumbledore is sending someone to meet us here in the morning?"
James nodded. "Nine sharp."
Lily sighed. "Let's go in, then. At least we can get something to eat. I'm famished."
"Good idea." James' stomach rumbled at the prospect of food. He made Lily tug her hood over her distinctive hair, just in case someone was looking for her.
The air inside was thick with smoke, but it was warm, so James pretended not to notice. After a somewhat stilted conversation with a suspicious and disapproving old woman, he collected the key to their room and stumbled gratefully towards it.
Fifteen minutes later they were seated in tatty armchairs by the fire in their room, a plate full of various bar fare between them. "How is it?" Lily asked apprehensively, eyeing James and the chicken leg in turn.
He chewed and swallowed quickly. "Greasy," he answered honestly. Delicious, his body told him. "Perfect."
Lily snatched the remaining leg off the plate and bit into it hungrily. "You weren't kidding." James watched in amusement as she devoured the entire thing faster than he would have thought possible.
When the plate of food was gone, James began to realize exactly how tired he was. He took the last sip of his cocoa and yawned, leaning his head back against the chair. "It's six thirty and I'm so tired I could sleep for a week. I feel like I'm five years old."
Lily answered him with an equally sleepy tone. "Can't. Got to be up for nine, remember?"
He opened an eye to look at her. She had her feet tucked up under her on the chair, and her eyes were closed. "You're not going to fall asleep in that chair, are you?"
"Could ask the same of you."
James looked over at the two beds in the room. Like the rest of the furnishings, they were worn and slightly dirty. One of them sagged dangerously in the middle. "I'm trying to decide if they're entirely sanitary," he admitted. Reluctantly, he got up and pulled back the covers on the bed nearest the door.
"What's the verdict?" Lily asked, walking over.
He prodded the bottom sheet experimentally with one finger. A spring peeked through a vicious hole in the material and proceeded to stare maliciously up at him. I hate you, James thought at it. "How do you feel about tetanus?"
Lily winced. "We're not on friendly terms."
Nothing for it. "I'll sleep on the floor," he said, pulling the blankets off of the ruined mattress. "Won't be the first time."
Her exasperated sigh surprised him. "We've shared a bed before. You don't snore and I don't kick, I don't think. Get in."
He did his best not to stare at her, almost appalled at the fact that she was willing to share a bed with him after everything that had happened in the past six weeks. We kissed and ignored each other, I went off and dated girls with the intention of forgetting she existed, she abandoned every good thought she ever had of me, and then I told her I loved her. And now she wants to sleep with me. His mind, too tired to process this information, stalled while trying to come up with a better idea. James managed a partial compromise. "You sleep under the covers," he said, dragging the eiderdown off of the other bed and, lying down, spreading it over himself. "I'll stay on top."
Lily must have deemed this acceptable, because she climbed into bed beside him and shut off the light. He could still see her silhouette, outlined by the dying fire. "Thank you for coming after me," she said after a long while. "If they'd got me again…"
James shivered, remembering a cold, wet cell and a haggard, broken girl. "It's nothing. I would have done it for anyone."
"I know." He had to strain to hear her. There was another, shorter pause. "Sirius told me about what you did for Snape."
If he's told her about Moony, I'll kill him. "Oh?" he said, as neutrally as possible.
"He figured out that I knew a thing or two about Remus. He thought he'd really bollixed things up with him and for some reason felt that I would have some insight into the matter, so I got the whole spiel." He could vaguely see her turning towards him in the dark. "I'm sorry I said such horrible things about you."
His smile was a little strained, a little painful. "It's alright. I wasn't exactly nice to you, either." But he couldn't quite bring himself to apologize for everything he'd said.
"No." The silence stretched out a bit, almost to oblivion. Then, quietly, "I'm sorry. I heard about your mum."
James closed his eyes. Maureen Potter's face appeared behind his eyelids, bearing the expression she always wore when playing carols at Christmastime. He couldn't think of anything to say, and he didn't want to.
"You must think it's silly for me to be upset when I don't even know anything yet-"
He only barely detected the slight hiccup, but it was enough to alert him that she was crying. He reached out a hand and laid it on her shoulder; Lily buried her face in her pillow. "I don't think it's silly." The rawness of his own voice surprised him; he swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. "She's your mum. You just lost your father. Death Eaters are trying to kidnap you again. You've been impossibly strong for the past four and a half months."
A sniff, a short, stifled sob- "I don't want her to be dead."
"Of course you don't," he said painfully, rubbing circles on her back. "Never mind. Go to sleep."
It wasn't long before he joined her.
Lily awoke some time later- a couple of hours, judging by how far down the fire had died- to a rhythmic shaking behind her. At first she almost expected James to be weeping- after all, he had just lost his mother- but when she turned around, she found that he was fast asleep.
And freezing cold, she discovered as she touched his cheek to wake him up. He's shivering. "James, wake up!"
He mumbled and pulled the eiderdown tighter around him.
"James!" When he didn't stir, she reached her arm under his blanket and gave him a sharp pinch.
He awoke with a yelp. "What was that for?" His teeth were chattering.
"You're going to catch pneumonia. Besides, you woke me up. Get under here."
James was apparently either too tired or too cold to argue with her, because he discarded the eiderdown and crawled in with Lily. His leg brushed against hers and she recoiled sharply. It was wet and freezing cold- no wonder James had been shivering. "James! Take your trousers off!"
He regarded her blearily, a confused look on his face. She blushed. "What?"
"Your trousers," she repeated, moving as far to the side of the bed as she could. "They are cold and wet. And this bed is a trouser-free zone. Off with them, Mr. Potter."
"Are you wearing trousers?" he asked grouchily, hands busy beneath the blankets.
"I suspect you'll find out for yourself in a minute," answered Lily with a dry smile, almost certain she would regret this in the morning but not much caring. "Let's have them."
James tossed his trousers in the general direction of the hearth. They landed over the arm of one of the chairs. "Happy?" he asked, still shivering.
Lily sighed. This was probably not the time to be modest. "Come here." When he didn't move, she reached over and put her arm around his waist. "Do you want to get warm or not?"
Reluctantly, he leaned into her embrace. She did her best to keep from drawing back when he touched her- his skin was like ice. Instead, she pressed closer, warming his back with her hands before turning him around so that he had his back to her. It was awkward, wrapping her arm around him- she felt almost disproportionately small- but it was oddly not as uncomfortable as she had anticipated. She pushed her hair out of her face and leaned her forehead against his shoulder, snuggling up to him.
In such close quarters, it was impossible to miss his jump. "No," she said with a somewhat smug tone in answer to his previous question. "I am not wearing any trousers."
"Tease." His shaking was less now, and she could feel him relaxing.
"It's not teasing. I'm really not wearing any. I'm just not flaunting my flawless figure for you to gawk at. Anyway, your glasses would fog up if you put them on, so you wouldn't be missing much."
"I hate it when you're right."
"Get used to it."
"I've tried. Every time I do we end up fighting. It's better to be surprised."
Lily poked him with her toe. "I hate it when you're right."
"Get used to it." Then, "Is that your foot? Are you entirely sure it isn't a very small glacier?"
"Poor circulation," Lily said. "Feet like ice blocks."
James harrumphed. "This bed is a glacier-free zone."
She stuck her tongue out at him even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Goodnight, James."
"Goodnight, Lily."
Her first coherent thought of the morning was something along the lines of ouch. Her arms ached. Her legs ached. One of each was asleep, which was undoubtedly due to the strange position she'd been in all night. Her nose was stuffed up.
She opened her eyes with an extreme reluctance she hadn't felt since the first time she'd crawled into bed with James. There wasn't a lot to see from this particular vantage point, although admittedly there was more to see than that time last summer. Mostly, the world seemed to be white and tan. Focus, Lily. With a little effort, the white-and-tan lost its blur. It appeared to be skin and an undershirt. With a little more effort, the fog in her brain rolled back enough to allow her to postulate exactly whose skin and undershirt it was.
She rolled over, flexing and trying to work feeling back into her limbs, not-quite-accidentally nudging James in the process.
"Mmmph," he said into the pillow.
Lily yawned. "Good morning to you, too." Satisfied that her pins and needles were mostly gone, she flopped back down into the warm bed. "How're you feeling?"
"Like a giant bruise," came the barely intelligible answer. James pulled the covers over his head. "What time is it?"
The muscles in her neck protested at being forced to turn toward the clock. "Eight thirty."
"Mmmph." The blankets came away from James' face for a moment. "Where are my trousers?" This was followed very shortly by, "In fact, where are your trousers?"
Oh God, I'm so glad he's not wearing his glasses. Lily's face burned, but she kept her voice level. "They were soaking, so I made you take them off. They're over by the fireplace."
"Taking advantage of me while I was vulnerable, eh?" he grinned.
"So glad you're not offended," she said sweetly. "Not that I'm surprised."
Equally unsurprising was the laugh that escaped his lips when he threw off the blankets and strutted- Lily was sure there was no other word for what he was doing- over to the fireplace to retrieve his clothes. Regardless of whatever she'd believed about him in the past, she had to admit that James Potter had a fantastic backside.
"I'm supposed to meet the Order operative in a little less than half an hour, but I don't think whoever it is will recognize me," James said. "So I'm going to clean up for a bit. Don't leave the room, alright? They could still be looking for you."
"Mmm?" answered Lily absently, having no idea what he'd just said. Something about staying in the room. Possibly he was being overprotective and chauvinistic, but she was distracted. "Sure."
James disappeared into the bathroom; Lily's mental faculties cleared enough for her to realize that she'd just been staring at his bum. She was just about ready to be horrified by the trouser confiscation incident when she heard a yelp from the direction of the bathroom.
She jumped out of bed, snatched her wand from her bedside table, and had made it to the bathroom door when James appeared in the doorway, holding her brassiere at arm's length. When he saw her, his eyes widened and then shut again almost as quickly. "For Merlin's sake, Lily. A bloke has only so much restraint."
Lily looked down at herself and flushed scarlet. She was wearing nothing but her knickers and the oversized sweatshirt she'd had on the day before.She let out a yelp of her own and dove back into bed. "Sorry!"
She dwelt on her embarrassment until James went downstairs, and then the irony of the situation made her laugh so hard her sides hurt.
James spotted his quarry long before his quarry spotted him, a fact which had much to do with said man's involvement in his breakfast. Dumbledore had told him to look for someone with dark blue robes and a glass of orange juice, not pumpkin, at breakfast, and this man was the only one who fit the description.
From his observation point up the stairwell a ways, James took the time to note the exits and any potentially dangerous patrons. The only other breakfasters were an old woman with a whole peacock mounted on her hat and what he could only assume was her son, and they were having an animated conversation about the natural habitat of the Crumple-horned Snorkack, Statute of Secrecy be damned.
Gathering his confidence, he descended the last of the steps and sat himself across from his contact. "Morning, big brother."
The red-haired man looked up with a grin, reached over and messed James' hair; not, James reflected ruefully, that it needed it. "There you are! Was beginning to think you'd forgot about me." Despite the ease with which he carried off the lines, James could tell he was surprised to see him.
"I never miss breakfast," he answered, grabbing the menu from beside him on the table. "What's good this morning, Gideon?"
"Everything," he answered, "although it can't hold a candle to mum's breakfast. She's brilliant in the kitchen."
James' good mood evaporated. For a few moments this morning his mother's spectre hadn't haunted him; for a few hours last night he had been able to escape the painful memories. But this morning…
Gideon Prewett laid his fork down noisily. "Shit. Sorry, Jim, that was tactless of me."
James managed to shrug. "Don't worry about it." He ordered his breakfast and they ate in silence for awhile.
When the other patrons paid their tab and left, Gideon asked, "So what's a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?"
"The usual," he answered around a mouthful of breakfast sausage. "You know, foiling evil, running from the bad guys, rescuing the damsel in distress." He swallowed and put down his fork, intending to save the rest of the meal.
Gideon shook his head. "You always did have a way with women. What do you think, kid? Ready to go?"
James grabbed his plate and deposited the rest of his Muggle money on the table. "Yeah. Come on, I've got to get something first."
"After you."
James led the way up the stairs to the room and knocked twice on the door. "You'd better be more clothed than when I saw you last, because I'm coming in!"
There was a sharp laugh from the other side of the door, so he figured it was probably safe. He walked in.
"Are we leaving yet?" came a voice from the vicinity of the fireplace. Lily had both hands up behind her head tying her hair back.
"Soon," he answered. "Glad to see you've found your trousers. Where's your wand?"
Lily patted her back pocket in answer. "Who's the escort?"
"Gideon Prewett at your service, Milady."
James didn't even bother to roll his eyes. "Gideon Prewett, Lily Evans."
Gideon's eyes flickered between them. "Latest damsel in distress?" he asked with a wink.
"No, just the distress, I'm afraid."
Lily favoured him with a wry smile. "In order to minimize your distress, we should get going." Then her face turned serious. "Have you heard anything about my mum?" she asked Gideon.
"Shortish, blonde hair, dimples?" At Lily's nod, he continued, "She's fine- was out getting groceries when the Death Eaters attacked. The house is a bit of a loss, though."
Sighing, Lily nodded again. "It was already smouldering when we left." James couldn't tell if she was relieved or resigned, or both at the same time.
He pulled his cloak from the coat tree and took hold of the Port Key Gideon had provided. James wondered, before the pulling started, what sort of chaotic reception they'd have this time.
James couldn't help but feel that, although the Potters' house had one more occupant than was strictly usual at Christmastime, it was going to be a quiet Christmas. Lily and her mother had taken spare bedrooms down the hall from his, but so far they had the tendency to keep to themselves, one James and his father shared. Both families were hurting, and grief was an emotion that was particularly private.
It was Christmas Eve. Under the tree was a fairly small pile of presents; it had been considerably larger, but James and his father could not bear to look at the gifts that had been for or from his mother, so they had been quietly hidden away until such a time as it didn't hurt so much to see them.
James didn't suppose that would be anytime soon. Distractedly, he moved his fingers up the neck of the guitar, trying to make his fingers relearn what his conscious had forgotten. A broken scale sounded in the air, ill-tuned, and he took a moment to adjust the tuning pegs before continuing.
One, four, five, he counted, playing chords now instead of scales. Then, slowly, bits of the song came back to him.
James didn't sing, and for a very good reason, but he plucked enough strings between chords to make the song recognizable. It was one he'd learned last Christmas, when Sirius had first shown up at his doorstep. Sirius, of course, had had to learn for himself…
"I didn't know you played."
The quiet voice startled him enough that he nearly dropped the old guitar. "My mum taught us," he said quietly between verses. "Sirius is better at it than I am."
Lily sat on the floor in front of him, which was probably the first time in a long time (their King William adventure excluded) that she had consciously elected to stay in a room alone with him. She fidgeted with the carpet for a minute while James switched tunes, and then blurted out, "Don't you know anything a little more cheerful?"
He tore his eyes away from the frets, realizing he had been projecting his grief through the guitar. "Play something in a major key? Never." But at the same time, he decided he'd had quite enough of dirges. His fingers fumbled with the notes for a few moments, searching.
"That sounds familiar," Lily said, frowning. "Almost like-"
James fumbled through the opening bars of Jingle Bell Rock, and she laughed. "You'll have to sing," he said apologetically, grinning. "Can't carry a tune in a bucket, myself."
"I suppose that's fair," she conceded. "But I can't exactly claim to be a fantastic singer myself."
She wasn't, but she was considerably better than James, and good enough to be going on with. They ran into difficulties when they forgot the verses, but otherwise the sing-along was a passable way to lighten the atmosphere.
Halfway through James' somewhat strained rendition of Holly Jolly Christmas, he looked up to find his father and Mrs. Evans watching them in amusement. Lily, following his gaze, quit stumbling over the words and was silent entirely, which, mercifully, meant that James could stop making up the chords as he went along.
Mr. Potter was watching them thoughtfully. James wondered for a moment if he were thinking of his wife, as it was her tradition James had adopted for the occasion, but he was put off his train of thought when Mrs. Evans asked, "Do you know Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer?"
Much later, when everyone but James was in bed, he stood uncertainly outside Lily's door. She and her mother were leaving early in the morning to go to her sister's, where they would stay until the house insurance came through and they could look for a flat. He wouldn't see her for the rest of the holidays- which ought to have been alright, since he hadn't expected to see her at all. But reason was elusive, and he felt vaguely ill at the prospect of her leaving again. It was now or never, really.
He knew that Lily wouldn't have got him anything for Christmas. She was still probably a little bit angry at him for everything that had happened in November, and he couldn't really blame her for that. Still, when he'd been out Christmas shopping for the rest of his friends, something had caught his eye and he'd been unable to stop himself from buying it.
Now he just needed to gather enough courage to give it to her.
Sighing, James gave up and propped A Beginner's Guide to Healing against her door.
1 January, 1978
Dear Lily,
I'm sure you've been told before, but it's absolutely insufferable that you are right all of the time. That's my shtick, and I want it back. Without it, my life is terribly unpredictable.
Thank you. As you can imagine, being unpredictable on occasion has made it onto my list of New Year's resolutions. Wonder if being occasionally mundane made it on to Sirius'?
Have you seen or heard from James? We're worried about him. His last letter implied that he'd seen you; how is he doing?
How are you doing? You can tell me to bugger off, if you want to. But at the very least, I owe you a listening ear. You know?
I'd wish you a happy New Year, but as this seems rather contrary to the general tone of the last half of my letter, I shall perhaps settle for a year better than last one.
Cheers,
Remus
1 January, 1978
Lily,
You were right. Thanks.
-Sirius
P. S. If you see James again, make sure he's all right, would you? He doesn't talk to us anymore.
3 January, 1978
Dear Remus,
I've been wrong before. Don't ask me to elaborate, okay?
James will be fine. He's not well, obviously, but he just needs… I don't know. They say time heals all wounds, but I don't think the loss of a family member is something that heals, exactly. It just hurts less with time.
I will be fine. I am also not well, but I am doing better than James is. I suspect I know part of the reason for that, but… Oh, I can't explain. It's another matter of time, I think.
Tell Sirius I said hello- I haven't the energy for another letter right now.
Regards,
Lily
"You are insane."
James turned away from the window, which was steaming up with his breath anyway, looked at Remus and shrugged. "We need practice. Or at least, I need practice. I've been a bit preoccupied lately. It's time to fix that."
Remus shook his head, causing heart-shaped confetti to tumble down around him. Valentine's Day in the Gryffindor common room had been a bit of a chaotic mess. Outside, the rain was coming down hard enough to melt what was left of the snow. "Are you doing penitence for something?"
Against his better judgment, James allowed his gaze to follow Remus' to a corner of the common room; Lily was curled up in an armchair, half-listening to Renata Chryse and the Philips twins gossip about the dates they had scheduled for later in the day. "No," he answered, only half-aware. "No, I haven't done anything I'm sorry for." He pulled up the hood on his cloak, picked up his broom and followed in the wake of the other Quidditch players.
Being on his broom again was a welcome distraction from everything else that had been going on in his life, which was much better than the opposite, being distracted by real life when he was supposed to be winning a Quidditch match. At least, he remained undistracted until he decided that the exhilaration of flying was somewhat like that first kiss he had shared with Lily so long ago, and after that he decided he'd best call off the rest of the practice before he started philosophizing.
He was walking moodily back to the castle beside Peter, who was his assistant captain by virtue of his head for details, and contemplating exactly what it would take to cheer him up when he spied some straggling brambles peeking through the remaining snow.
"What's the spell for the flowers again?" he murmured aloud to himself.
"You mean orchiddeous?" Peter asked, producing a good-sized bouquet. "Are you courting Lily again? Haven't you learned your lesson?"
James took the flowers from Peter with a slight frown. "Believe me, if I could give up, I would." But one more last-ditch effort wouldn't hurt, surely?
He was just contemplating Transfiguring the orchids into a dozen red roses when he was tackled from behind. The flowers, forgotten, went flying while James rolled with his unseen assailant, determined to come out on top. An elbow connected with his stomach, but he retaliated by sending his shoulder into a ribcage. There was a moment of struggling when he and his opponent were a tangle of awkward limbs…
And then James dug his knees into Sirius' armpits, breathing heavily. "Twit."
Sirius made a face at him. "Nancy."
"Poof," James said, giving him a hand up. He had crushed orchids in his hair, as well as what seemed to be very dirty pink confetti. He turned the part of his brain that thought about such things, and other people with pink confetti in their hair, off. "So much for the flowers, I think."
"You're giving up that easily?" Sirius asked in surprise.
James sighed and brushed a few crushed petals from his chest. "Everyone else has."
The rain didn't let up until April, a fact that made everyone more than only restless. The grounds were so drowned in mud that when Sirius' well-aimed Bludger had knocked an unfortunate Hufflepuff from his broom at a Quidditch match in mid-March, he'd been completely unharmed for landing in a foot of it.
James found that the best part of his birthday was no longer being subject to the whims of the weather, and, as it fell on the first, which was a Saturday, opted to spend his first three waking hours out of doors. Sirius, Remus and Peter coerced him into a game of football, which James gathered from Remus was a Muggle game played by very violent people. As Remus and Peter were the only two who had played before, they were put on opposing teams to even the odds. Having Sirius and James play on opposing teams added yet another level to the competition, and by the time James, doubled over, bowed out of the game and flopped face-down onto the muddy grass, Peter and Sirius were up four goals. James and Remus were winning in terms of fouls, but that just meant that they were bruised.
"You say the Muggles play this for how long?"
"Longer than I can," admitted Peter, sprawling beside him.
"They must have legs like concrete," James said mournfully. "I wish I were made of concrete. It would hurt less."
The four of them laid there in the mud for a few quiet moments, panting, until the squelch-slurp of another set of footsteps made James lift his head; there was too much mud on his glasses for him to be able to see who was approaching.
"Careful by the tree," he warned.
Too late. A half-shriek, followed by another, louder squelch-slurp, alerted the rest of the boys that they had company.
Sirius snickered. "This is a new look for you."
James wiped some of the mud from his lenses. Lily looked like she was attempting a glower, but she was failing miserably- at least from what James could tell. There was mud streaked from her head to her toes: through her hair, on her school uniform and on her face. Presently she gave a self-deprecating grin and pulled out her wand. "Scourgify," she said, pointing at James' glasses.
"Thanks." She didn't bother cleaning herself off, he noticed. He couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not; he was staring at the mud that clung to her like Christmas had come again.
"James, I'm sure Lily's not hiding your birthday present in her blouse."
Remus' words- and the snickers of Sirus and Peter- brought him out of his reverie. Flushing, he scooped up a handful of mud and flung it in Remus' general direction. It spattered against Sirius' face instead, prompting swift retaliation in the form of a flying tackle that, unfortunately, included more weight than James could force off of him.
"Ouch," he said through a mouth half-full of mud. He spat and looked up at Lily. "Are you sure you don't want to get in on this? Once in a lifetime opportunity, and all that."
She quirked an eyebrow at them. "I think I'll pass, if it's all the same to you. I'm quite filthy enough as it is."
"If you say so." James struggled to push some weight off of him; at the top of the pile, Peter yelped and slid to the ground. Feeling more like himself than he had in ages, he asked, "Just out of curiosity, are you hiding my birthday present in your blouse?"
Surprisingly, Lily's response was less than mere indignation: she laughed. "What makes you think I got you anything? Maybe I came out here to scrimmage with you."
"In knee-highs and a skirt?"
She poked her tongue out at him. "It wouldn't be the first time. But as it turns out, you are right, I did come out here to wish you a happy birthday."
James grinned. "I win." Another boy-weight rolled off of him.
Lily continued, "But as you did not see fit to inform me that it was your birthday, I'm afraid you'll have to wait for your present." She picked herself up off of the ground and shook as much mud from her hands and arms as she could. "As for right now, I think I may be in need of a good cleaning. See you at the meeting later, James." And she picked herself up and walked back to the castle with more dignity and poise than anyone who looked like they'd been dragged through a swamp had a right to.
"Did she just flirt with me?" James asked, a little dazed, when she finally disappeared into the castle.
"Right, because that's a previously impossible event," Sirius snorted, finally releasing his death-grip on James' ribs.
"Well, I mean, there was the loathing stage, no flirting there, and then she decided I was God, not a whole lot of goodness there either, what with the guilt of an opportunist, and then we reverted back to stage one, again, not so good. The friend stage was going so well and now she's flirting with me." James let out all his breath in a rush. "I'm never going to understand girls!"
"I don't think there's much hope for you on the other side of the line, either," Sirius commented. Remus snickered.
Lily waited until she was out of the boys' line of sight to start blushing. There had certainly been a time during her previous infatuation with James that she had been fairly forward with him, but then, that had come between his periods of showing any interest in her whatsoever. It was an entirely new thing, having him flirt back.
Are you hiding my birthday present in your blouse? She felt a little bit guilty for neglecting to get him anything, which stemmed, in reality, from the guilt of not knowing when his birthday actually was.
Still, she thought to herself, I suppose there's no sense knowing everything about someone before you're together. There'd be no mystery to it.
She stopped before the doors to the castle to perform another Cleaning Charm, on herself this time. She still felt vaguely grimy, but it would at least keep her from setting the bad example of tramping mud through the hallways.
Would she follow through with her flirtatious promise to get him a gift later? And if she did, what could James Potter possibly need? Besides a thorough snogging, which she was not quite ready to give him?
I hate springtime, James decided somewhat forlornly, trailing mindlessly behind Peter and Marianne Philips. Peter, against most of the laws of nature, was on a Date. Remus and Sirius, in accordance with a few laws of nature of their own, were also on a Date, although they tended to be a bit more discreet about it. Anyway, what it really meant was that James was wandering through Hogsmeade essentially by himself for the first time ever. It was lonely and liberating at the same time.
Zonko's wasn't any fun without Sirius to fill his mind with horrible ideas. The Three Broomsticks lost a good deal of charm when there was no Remus to shout good-natured insults at across the table. Even walking down the streets wasn't the same without Peter's constant stream-of-consciousness background narrative.
Everywhere he looked, disgusting couples were holding hands and enjoying the beautiful weather and being generally intolerable. James was very sorely tempted to hex every single one of them. Even the third years looked to be having more fun than him, scattered about in groups of three or four, just enjoying each other's company.
When Peter's hand came to rest on Marianne's backside, James decided he'd had enough of looking at people and turned left into the nearest shop he could find.
It smelled of old books and quiet evenings in and what he imagined memories must smell like, if they had a smell. It was armchairs and fireplaces and something indefinably comfortable. When his eyes adjusted to the low lamplight, he realized it was some sort of pawn shop. After a minute of more careful observation, he realized it was the same pawn shop he'd run into Lily in back when he'd gone on that date with Alice.
I am doomed, he thought glumly. Lily and I will dance pathetically around each other forever and I will never get so much as a kiss. I will pine away until time loses all meaning and be a hermit and live in a cave and eat lichen to survive.
"I think I'm in hell," James commented aloud, just in case anyone was listening.
A voice beside him nearly caused him to careen into an unsteady-looking book case. "Well, at least you're in good company." Lily flashed him a small smile, holding out a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. "You're a tough man to track down, Mr. Potter. Happy belated birthday."
He blinked twice, took the package and focussed on her face again. "Are you being cute?" he asked suspiciously.
Her grin widened. "I am making every effort. How's it working?"
James held the present to his ear and shook it gently. "You needn't try so hard. What is this, anyway? Can I open it?"
"Pandora's box," Lily replied with a mysterious grin. "Could be anything. And you should probably wait for a bit. Would you care to take a walk?"
In fact, James found that he wanted nothing more than to meander about with her. They mostly ignored everyone else, too absorbed in each other to notice what was going on around them. After a few stomach-churning moments of deliberation, James found it deceptively easy to catch Lily's fingers in his own.
She pretended that she didn't notice, although he thought he could detect a faint flush on her cheeks. A few Butterbeers, some aimless wandering and an hour of idle chat later, James found himself face to face with her, all alone in the Head Students dormitory. "So? Can I open it now?" He was nervous. What if it was something really personal? What if he hated it? What if it was perfect? He wasn't sure what would be worse.
Lily flushed slightly, turning to look at him on the sofa. She nodded. "Okay."
Hands shaking just slightly, James untied the parcel strings.
The brown paper glowed bright white for a second, then disappeared. James frowned at his empty lap. Where had-
He looked up. Lily was watching him with a peculiar look on her face. Very carefully, she eased herself closer until her face was bare centimetres from his own. "Happy birthday," she whispered with that same odd smile. And kissed him, very softly, on the lips.
They both sat quietly in the room for a minute before James said, "Really a Pandora's Box, then. Not just a figure of speech."
The peculiar, almost-possessed expression had faded from her face and she smiled somewhat sheepishly. "I didn't know what to get you. That was easy."
"I didn't know you knew how to enchant one of those." Still shell-shocked. And unsure whether he should be pleased or very, very afraid.
It wasn't his fault she'd got him a Pandora's Box, so named for the sometimes apocalyptic events that tended to ensue whenever they were given. By enchanting such an object, the giver agreed to provide the recipient with whatever he or she wanted most, so long as it was in the giver's power.
"I didn't know that was what you wanted most." A short pause. "Probably should have guessed, though."
"Am I in trouble?" James asked meekly, finally raising his eyes to her gaze.
Lily smiled, and his stomach attempted a set of complicated gymnastics. "Not yet."
I love springtime, he decided, marvelling at his luck as her lips descended on his again.
"Look at this one," Lily said, pointing to a candid shot of Remus and Sirius- the former had his nose in a book, and Sirius was shooting him covetous looks from across the room. "It's very cute, but I think it ought to be censored. Protecting the innocent, and all that." She winked.
James laughed. "Give it to Remus. He'll find a spot for it." He flipped through the pile of photographs in front of him. "I think this one should have a whole page to himself. Can't you just see it?"
Lily took one look at the picture and elbowed him in the stomach. "So Remus and Sirius get censored and we get pimped, eh? Not sure that's entirely fair, myself." The photo was of the two of them on Halloween in their vampire-and-peasant costumes; James' expression was somewhere between entranced and kicked puppy as he leaned over Lily's neck, ready for the bite.
"Wonder if I could've been a bit more obvious?" he asked idly, setting the picture down in the reject pile. It was a good thing there were so many others to choose from, or the yearbook might have been awfully thin.
"Well, you could've decided not to snog Sylvia Peters afterwards," she said. "That'd be a start."
She must've caught the wounded expression on his face, because she softened immediately. "James, I was joking. And even if- even if I'd noticed a bit sooner- well, I wasn't ready for it, was I?"
Under normal circumstances a blush on James' face was nearly undetectable; in this case he wondered if he was on fire from the neck up. His own words echoed through his head- because I'm in love with you. They had never revisited that conversation, and maybe, for now, it was better that way. "I don't think I was really ready for it, either," he admitted.
Lily offered him a half-smile. "Sorry I bullied you into it."
"Ha! You are too little to bully me, woman."
"On the contrary, Mr. Potter. I am exactly the right size to bully you." Then she leaned over and kissed him, and James was forced to rethink his position. Her mouth was soft but demanding, and he found himself responding without thinking. Soon Lily was in his lap, her arms around his neck, and James wasn't about to complain.
She pulled back after a moment, just enough so that their noses were barely touching. "James?"
"Mmm?"
"Are you ready now?"
He looked up at her, startled and a little scared. He barely nodded, raising a hand to her cheek. "Are you?"
Lily blushed, leaning her forehead against his. A faint smile danced at the corner of her lips. "I asked you first."
What a time to have butterflies in his stomach! Heart pounding, James captured one of her hands with his. "Yes. You?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." Seeming to steel herself, she looked into his eyes, then down again, shyly. For a second it struck him as odd that a girl could sit in his lap and look so bashful, and then-
"I love you, James."
"I love you, too."
The End.