Chapter 4

It had actually been a pleasant surprise to see Dumbledore was the one "tutoring" them. He explained by saying that most members of the order were either too busy with other assignments or that they did not agree with his asking two young students to join their ranks.

"But I am of age," asserted James. Lily nodded in agreement. She had just come of age not so long ago. Dumbledore continued that he trusted them and had faith that they were mature enough to handle what was to come.

Maturity, both Lily and James found, had nothing to do with surviving the training.

It was by far the most gruesome kind of practice James had ever received. Quidditch was physical, with a bit of strategy. Fighting evil was a mixture of brains with physical strains and listening to your gut instincts meanwhile considering the messages your brain was sending. It was memorizing a long list of spells, exactly what they did, and, very importantly, being able to do them at the whim of a thought. Oh yes, it is very important to concentrate on the spells you cast, but you must always be thinking ahead of your actions. You must be able to consider what is happening in front of you now, and make up at least five scenarios of what may happen next, all without a blink of the eye.

James had never felt so exhausted in his life – after the first half hour of training. Dumbledore seemed to enjoy watching James struggle (for the only other time James had experienced any kind of struggle was whenever he tried to get Lily's attention) and if Lily wouldn't have been so busy with her own training, she too would have taken the time to revel in James' efforts. Despite being out of breath, mentally fatigued, and complaints of wearied muscles, James and Lily had both done well in their training. They learned quickly, adapted very well to change, and trusted, not only their own instincts, but each other. They were a formidable pair, and Dumbledore immediately made up his mind to make them a team.

Walking towards the Prefect's bathroom, Lily asked James what had been on her mind ever since Friday morning. "What did Dumbledore mean by the whole 'every witch and wizard would be proud' thing?"

James smirked, rubbing his head with his hands nervously, making his hair look even more unruly than it normally was. "Well, we are in Gryffindor, are we not?" His smile gave it away – he was keeping something from her.

She let it drop though, and thought better of how to get him to choke up the entire truth.

James was in the shower, leaning onto the wall, letting the hot water soothe his aching muscles, sometimes the soap would burn his small cuts from Thursday night. He stayed there for a long while, almost drifting off to sleep.

"Hey, Potter, what's taking you so long?" James, jolted from his daydream, started. He couldn't see well, as his glasses were on the counter in front of the shower, but he could see who was standing on the other side of the shower.

"EVANS! What are you playing at?"

"Now, Potter, I have here in my hands a nice towel, some clothes, shoes and oh, yes, glasses. Now, unless you tell me what exactly is going on with you, you can kiss all these goodbye." Blackmail. She was blackmailing him!

"Alright alright, Just, I don't wanna scream it you know? So err – give me a moment to – "

"No, everything is secure. Tell me now, Potter, or else!"

James sighed. She would eventually pay, but he was in no position to bargain. "My father was attacked this summer by a group of Death Eaters." He heard a little gasp over the shower's noises. "They want us all dead, my entire lineage. He-wh…Voldemort you see, is quite keen, as the heir of Slytherin, to rid himself of those he deems as a disappointment to wizards. We're purebloods, the whole lot of us, although it hasn't been forced for over three centuries. We just happen to fall in love with each other, which is kind of gross…I mean, my mother is my father's third cousin's niece's aunt. Does that make sense?" Lily's eyes opened wide, though she kept her thoughts private…for now. "My parents were pushing towards overall equality between Muggle-borns and wizardkind. Exactly what Voldemort is against, which means that, well, let's just say that, I will definitely die in the coming years, unless someone can defeat Voldemort. …" his thoughts trailed off as he tried to envision himself, much the age he is now, duelling with the most evil wizard the world had ever seen. Lily just couldn't believe he had come to terms with this death sentence so easily.

"James?" James noticed she had thrown his towel over the edge of the shower, as well as a shirt and some underwear. He took the hint, dressed, and stepped out, still partially blind, jet black hair, even darker now that they were wet, managing to stick up in every which direction. Lily eyed him, though he couldn't tell, and reluctantly passed him his glasses. She had sort of enjoyed seeing him humbled by his inability to see perfectly. "I apologize for stealing your clothes," she grinned sheepishly, which he returned lopsidedly. "So does your cockiness come from your own perspective on your bloodline?"

"Cocky?" she glared at him. "Fine, I admit, I am a little…well, self-centered. However my lineage has nothing to do with it. I am a lone child, you see, well, not anymore, ever since Sirius showed up…" Lily had heard enough.

"You're a good guy, you know. I mean, I hate you and all, but you aren't so bad, once you let go of yourself a bit." She smiled weakly. "What I meant to say is, I hated you then because it was really pathetic how much you tried to get attention. But, that's all over with, right?" Her cheeks started to feel hot. She was babbling nonsense again.

"While we're confessing to one another, I was quite obsessed with you, as I'm sure you know." Lily rolled her eyes. "And I'm sorry for having been a downright git, but I mean, who could blame me, right?" She cast her eyes in every direction so as to avoid his, making her look suspicious. "Well face it, Evans, you are desirable. First off, you're a charming young lady when you want. You have this untameable personality which is actually quite attractive to one such as me. And then there's your sympathy and empathy…" it was his turn to flush. "I mean, not that I knew you all that well, but you were always the top witch of our class, always the first one to stick up for people – even if they didn't deserve it – and, well, you hated me and a challenge is always appealing." He suddenly felt extremely naked, despite his underwear, towel wrapped around his waist, and loose shirt. It was as though he had just described to her in minute detail how he looked like from the inside.

And that was exactly how she had interpreted it. She was embarrassed for him, but also for herself. Intimacy was the last thing she had expected to share with James Potter. "Umm, I should probably give you these now, seeing how uncomfortable you might be without your pants on." James took them graciously, but did not move. "Maybe it'd be better if we tried not to get on each other's nerves this year, I mean, seeing as we'll be spending at least two hours a week together – "

"Not to mention Head Girl and Boy duties. I see the logic of a treaty between us, now that you mention it."

"Great. Umm, James?"

"Lily?"

"I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you when you tried to warn me. I was so sure you were up to something, I…I didn't trust you."

"You had no reason to. But trust me now, alright?" She nodded, anxious to run out of the door and step into a zone that was a little bit more comfortable than talking to a half naked James Potter.

"I'd best be off now. See you around James."

"See you around, Lily." They stood a moment longer, just a moment, not looking directly at each other, but trying to steal glances of the other's eyes. Finally, Lily shifted her weight and smiled shyly at James – cheeks as flaming red as his – and bolted out the door. She had to find her friend, Grisella, and tell her about this. Pronto.

James emerged from the Prefect's Bathroom only a short minute later – deep set eyes sparkling from behind his wire-rimmed glasses – running his hand through his head. He had taken to ruffling his hair a few years back to give him a sexy sort of sporty edge (a favourite amongst the girls) but now, it had become a bad habit of his. He couldn't help but ruffle his hair at the slightest amount of stress or unease or sheer lack of ways to occupy his hands.

"PRONGS!" Sirius called him over to their table in the Great Hall, saving a seat for him. When James pulled his leg over the bench, before he had even a chance to sit, Sirius bombarded him with questions. "How was detention? What'd ya have to do? Was Evans with you? Did she cry?"

Remus glared at his long dark haired friend. "Give him time to breath, Padfoot, gee wiz." James noticed Remus was still sickly pale, and he hadn't yet completely healed his minor scratches, but apart from that, he still looked healthy.

Peter smiled at James. "I heard you had to clean the dungeons," he said, "Lily told Grisella – "

James nodded. "Yup, they are filthy, and no, she didn't cry Sirius, and while you're beside them, hand me a pancake?" Sirius obliged. The Marauders then bent their heads in low and mumbled something about the next outing.

"No, James, you can't be serious!" Remus exclaimed. "You've already – "

"Come off it, Moony! I promise I'll be glued to Sirius' hip, I won't leave his sight."

"No. It's too risky. Dumbledore would have my head if anything happened again." Remus looked distraught. Well, he almost always did but obviously, the thought that Death Eaters had managed to attack one of his best friends during the full moon…well, he couldn't help but blame himself for it. If it were to happen again, he would die. His friends shouldn't have to risk their lives even more to keep him company.

"Remus, just let James decide what he wants to do. If he says it's okay, then it's okay." Sirius, always defending James, well, ever since James had taken to being more quiet. The conversation was abruptly cut as a first year ran up to James to ask him if he could show him where the bathrooms were. James, picking up an apple, stood and left the three Marauders alone, once more.

"Something's up," Sirius concluded out loud. "James isn't James anymore. Well he is, but much less extravagantly so. I say he got hit with a spell by the Death Eaters." He whispered the last part hardly loud enough for Peter to hear.

"He got hit with an unforgivable curse, Sirius." Remus scolded. All because of what James referred to as his "furry little problem". All of this for him.

"Right," said Peter, "and I'm sure Dumbledore gave him hell for it, knowing what he told him at the beginning of term." Sirius nodded at that point, but he knew it was more.

Times had changed. Sirius was the first to know. Ever since he'd moved out of his mother's, he had been around James almost twenty four hours a day, and could always tell what mood James was in even before he opened his mouth to speak. When Mr Potter began coming home later in the nights, James hadn't changed too much, the only thing was that he lost a slight amount of sleep, worrying about his father and mother. Then, news had surfaced about a mass killing – over thirteen wizards and witches from the same family had been murdered in their sleep. James had known the family – they had been pure blood and naturally were somewhat related to both him and Sirius – and that had jolted most of his arrogance out of him. He, Sirius figured, had thought that being a pure blood would keep him from harm's way. Having a pure blood family murdered like that had proved otherwise.

But that year, James had still put up a show. He had dated two girls throughout the school year (not seriously, but just as far as holding hands in Hogsmead, snogging under the mistletoe), had won Gryffindor the Quidditch cup (for the third year in a row), and had become relentless in his hexing of poor unassuming Slytherins. His obsession with Lily had been suppressed, although Sirius knew it was forced away. A few times he had caught James peering over her way, lost in a daydream Sirius knew he wasn't part of. But, thankfully, he hadn't turned into a useless prat, trying to always impress her. Instead, he had taken to his friends, impressed them constantly with his vigilant plans, and how he so often managed to escape detention. He had also grown taller that year.

And then came this summer. James had received an owl from his mother explaining that upon their arrival at King's Cross, Sirius and James were to head straight to James' grandfather's, where they had stayed for a full fortnight. Sirius hadn't complained – Mr Potter Senior was always entertaining, the very old ex-Quidditch seeker who was known to play with his invisibility cloak wrapped about him, making it seem as though only a head was floating around after the snitch. And then, Mr Potter, James' dad, had been attacked. James, protective as he was, had partially blamed himself and had apparated immediately to his father's side at St Mungo's. Sirius had given him room, but James had pushed and distanced himself even more. Sure, they still hung around together as much as before, but their laughter wouldn't last long, and their pranks weren't as funny. That's when Sirius realised that it was time for him to show himself as a true and loyal friend, one who sticks by James no matter what, because, like it or not, James was his brother, and, being slightly older, Sirius felt responsible for him. The last three weeks before heading back to Hogwarts, James and Sirius had had a long discussion, and it had been the first time Sirius had ever seen James that angry, that scared, and that sad. Padfoot had only then discovered the true nature of Prongs; a young protective man, determined, and always seeking peace.

Sirius had been forced to grow up that very moment Prongs had told him, tears welling up in his eyes, that he was scared he was going to die young. He confessed that he had always wanted to wed, have children and be as cool as his dad had been, but, he had said, "I know Voldemort won't rest until we're all dead. I'm going to die soon, Sirius, and everything I own, I give to you."

"No," Sirius had replied, "I'll do everything I can not to let you die, Prongs. Moony and Wormtail's the same. We're in this together, all four of us." Padfoot, in that instant, realised that by saying those words, he had gone from an immature 17 to a mature man. He felt more like a man than he had ever before.

Sirius was jolted from his thoughts as he spotted Lily Evans walk through the entrance. She was chatting with her friends, but she obviously looked tired, shaken. Her green eyes were still keen, however, and she headed straight for Sirius before he even had a chance to take out his wand.

"Don't you even think about it, Padfoot," she said. Sirius jumped as she called his name. "No use of magic outside of the class, Mr Filch has warned you time and time again."

"Evans, wait, come here a minute." Remus glared at his friend, Peter stared mouth agape. Lily reassured her friends and approached the boy whose eyes, to her opinion, showed traces of insanity. She eyed him suspiciously. "All I want to say is thank you." Her eyebrows scrunched confusedly. "I wasn't there, I should have been, but you were and you helped him out alive, so thanks. But next time, I'll be there, trust me. You won't need to…" Understanding flushed Lily's cheeks.

"Look, I know what's happening with James – he told me himself – but don't you think it's a bit risky to go out at night knowing perfectly well that James could very well die?" She took on Mrs Potter's tone whenever she lectured her two sons (one biological, one adopted).

Remus spoke up. "Don't you think we – don't you think I know that?" Peter didn't say a word. Sirius' glare didn't relent.

"Honestly, couldn't you four transform within the school and stay inside?" Sirius, Remus, and Peter's heart leapt to their throats. They had been figured out. She noticed their discomfort. "Don't worry, I won't tell, only, Merlin forbid, I should. Just promise me you'll look out for James, keep him away from anywhere off grounds, and – "

"We don't need to promise you. We've already come to the same conclusion." Peter's voice, scarcely heard to Lily's ears, made her jump a step.

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go back to my friends." Padfoot nodded, as did Moony. Wormtail simply looked down at his hands nervously.

"How odd it is," mumbled Moony once she had left, "that whilst James is looking out to keep her out of harm's way, she is doing the same." Padfoot didn't say anything, and Wormtail simply took another bite of his pancake.

oooo

James walked back to the common room alone, having shown the first year student the way to the washroom. He tried to avert his attention elsewhere, but it seemed to be glued to his thoughts, his predicament, unrelenting its hold. He had told Lily. Not all of it, mind you, but some of it, and after he had, a part of the lead weight lifted from his stomach. If only he had told her the rest.

He would, he concluded, for he now saw her as an equal. She was no longer a challenge, no longer a pretty witch with breath-taking charisma, someone unattainable, she was simply Lily Evans, the witch he had lusted after, the witch he now considered as his.

Well, not romantically so in any way, shape or form. That had been established long ago, he affirmed to himself. No, Lily Evans was now more of a…an accomplice? A partner? A friend? Perhaps she'd be a friend. He didn't know quite yet. He figured he'd have to ask first. The thought brought him back several years prior, when he had asked, literally, if Sirius would like to be friends with him. He smiled at that.

All he knew at that moment was that Lily was his responsibility. If Lily were to ever get hurt, James would be the one to blame. And James Potter, although a spoiled child who was practically showered with everything he ever wanted, protection and attention included, was sort of over protective himself. He took his role very seriously, all you had to do was ask Sirius or Remus or Peter how he got. Once you were under James' radar of one whom he had to tend to, you never got hurt, and if you did, you quickly forgot your pain.

He would give Lily no opportunity to feel pain.

So this is chapter 4. I am sort of trying to come up with something for On vient de loin, the continuation of S'sB, as that story is a bit more...I dunno, real to me or something - whatever it is, it hits closer to home than this one (which I started writing a loooong time ago). In any case, I'm not sure whether or not I should even bother with H'sR, since the response is quite minimal...

Anyway, to my two lovely reviewers, I love you! This chapter is definitely for you.