Chapter Fifteen: An Olive Branch Never Tasted So Good

"Tia, I swear to God, if you don't stop pacing this minute, I will tie you to your chair."

I stopped mid-stride, slumping slightly, and wheeled round to face an exhausted Lily. "I haven't got a chair. You are sitting in the only chair," I pointed out; with rationality that was rather surprising when you considered how completely irrational I was currently feeling.

"In that case, I shall get up, wrestle you into submission—and don't believe for one second that you'd win, because I've got both the height advantage and extreme annoyance on my side—and, that done, will tie you to this chair."

"James hid the map," I whined, ignoring her. "The bugger knew I wanted it—just for a casual, perfectly healthy peep every now and then—and now he's gone and hidden it, because he hates me."

"No," Lily disagreed, wearily. "He hid it because he knew—and rightly so—that you would worry yourself sick over he and the rest of them, and that it probably isn't the best idea for you to know what they're doing, anyway."

"I am neither worried, nor sick, and so I spit on your theory. He hates me, he believes me completely mad and silly, and I will not stand for it. D'you know that I caught him and Sirius trying to slip me a Sleeping Draught before they left, so I'd just wake up tomorrow morning, well-rested and none-the-wiser?"

"Brutish fiends, the lot of them."

"So you see it too." I glanced distractedly round Lily's dimly-lit dorm. "Where's Aubrey gone?"

"She's passed out underneath that lamp-table, there. Which reminds me—was it really necessary to let her drink half that unmarked bottle she found in your wardrobe?"

"How was I to know it was firewhisky? And besides, it isn't my bottle, it's Sirius'—I remember he hid it there when McGonagall was doing the routine checks of their dorm last year; he must have forgotten about it." I was thoughtful for a moment, then shook my head to clear it. "Anyway, I think she's beginning to develop a taste for drinking. Bit of an amateur, yet, but getting along well enough."

"You sound proud. Tia, that is not the sort of thing to be proud of."

"Oh, hush. Now where's she put that bottle, I need something to distract me…"

I dropped to my knees beside the bed and began to search under it for the firewhisky—not my usual choice, but it would do in a pinch.

"I've got it here," Lily answered briskly, and I heard the musical swish-and-tinkle of liquid contained in glass.

My head came up from beneath the bed and saw that she was indeed holding the aforementioned bottle by the neck. I blew a dust-bunny off my nose, pushed a hand through my hair and got to my feet."

"Thanks, hand it over please."

She did without protest. I was a little surprised at that, but nonetheless took it gratefully when offered and removed the cork, placing the rim of the bottle to my lips and tilting it back. The smoking, amber liquid splashed the inside of my mouth and back of my throat, searing it on the way down and creating a path of fire through my chest before the heat pooled in my stomach (eating away at the lining, I was sure.) It burned like holy hell, and tasted oddly and disgustingly of feet (I couldn't recall it ever having been that awful, before…), but I felt the alcohol go to my head almost immediately, and was satisfied.

I coughed wheezily as soon as I got my breath back and croaked to Lily, "That is bloody horrid. And you say Aubrey got down half this thing?"

Lily seemed a bit shifty. "Well, nearly. But, er… I suppose she drank it a bit… weaker."

"Like with tonic water, you mean? I haven't got any… any…"

Something wasn't right. The firewhisky was hitting me ridiculously hard—every movement felt as though I was wading through over-cooked porridge, and the room was spinning dangerously. There were currently three—no, four now—Lilys watching me apprehensively.

She took a step forward and the world tilted distressingly. She half-caught me before I hit the floor, then hauled me gracelessly on to the bed, lifting my legs after me so I was sprawled out on the bedspread. My vision was dimming at the edges and blurring alarmingly, while a warm, cosy peace had stole over my limbs and mind.

Sluggishly, realisation dawned: I was being unjustly ganged up against.

"It's for your own good," I heard Lily's voice say—sounding both apologetic and about five octaves too deep.

"Fucking hehhnngh…" was the last thing my thickened tongue managed before I slipped into comfortable, enveloping darkness.

"…awww… she's quite adorable when she sleeps, don't you think? I mean, apart from the drool and scary hair. Aww…"

"Padfoot, quit petting my cousin and help me get her out of bed. Class starts in twenty minutes, and if she's late she'll really have reason to kill us."

"I… er… okay. You take her feet, I've got her shoulde—aaaghnnkg!"

"What? What did you—"

"Bugger shit fuck! Ahh… nothing, my ribs are still… nothing."

"Well, don't let Tee hear you say that, or she'll be all 'I bloody told you so, didn't I?' and you'll never have a moment's peace after."

"It wouldn't hurt so badly if you hadn't stepped on me. Twice. Stupid prat with your stupid big hooves."

"It was dark and your fur is dark. Besides, I didn't mean to."

"I'll believe that when I hear you say you're sorry."

"I am sorry. Your bloody squishy dog-self made me turn an ankle. I've got a limp now. How am I supposed to win Evans' heart with a limp?"

"Maybe she likes the gimpy sort. Or, better yet, you could get an eye-patch and a parrot and start demanding to be called Funny-Walk Potter, the most fearsome and ruthless pirate of all the seven seas. We could write you a theme song."

"Paddlebrains?"

"Yes, O Fearsome and Ruthless One?"

"That is an excellent idea."

"Well of course it—"

"Haven't you two got her yet? What's taking so long? Lily's waiting with her clothes and Peter's already found an antidote potion."

"Hello, Moony. You've got arms, haven't you?"

"Er… yes, that is what we traditionally call these long bendy things sticking out of my shoulders."

"Spiffing. That means you'll be able to help Prongs carry her down."

"…Paddlebrains?"

"Yes, O Sturdy and Armed One?"

"She bloody told you so, didn't she?"

"Oh don't you start."

I came fully awake in the middle of my first-period Potions class and lifted my head to see Slughorn's enormous thatched moustache twitching in disapproval down at me.

"Miss Evans tells me you have suffered a great personal tragedy?" he boomed gruffly, then looked to my left and his surly expression turned affectionate.

I groggily followed his gaze and saw, with a certain amount of surprise, Lily sitting next to me, her cauldron bubbling merrily as she sang under her breath—the words sounded suspiciously like, "Go along with iii-it!"

"Er…" I shoved my hair out of my eyes, blinking several times to clear my vision as I straightened up, leaning away from our worktable. What in hell was going on? Why was I here?

I cleared my throat, as my voice was a bit thick with sleep, and said bewilderedly, "I have?"

Lily stomped my foot under the table and I jumped in pain, only half-hearing Slughorn continue speaking.

"Yes, she tells me a dear member of your family has been gravely injured? And that is why you were sleeping, because you had been up all night grieving."

I blinked again. And then, like a rush of clarity, I remembered.

Twisting round in my seat, I saw James gazing, spellbound and moony, at the back of Lily's head with his chin propped in his hand, while Remus tried frantically to keep their cauldron from boiling over.

"Oh, right," I said slowly, turning to face my professor again while doing my best to appear devastated. "Yes, somebody has been hurt rather badly." Or will be.

"I'm sorry to hear it, Miss Spencer. Terrible thing. But with Miss Evans as your partner, I don't think you'll have to worry about doing too poorly in class today, eh?" He winked proudly in Lily's direction, then went off.

The minute he was out of ear-shot, my head whipped round to glare at Lily. "Traitor!" I hissed. "You're all in cahoots against me, is that it? That was a disgusting violation of my trust, you cow, and now I can never forgive y—"

"Look," she cut me off, rolling her eyes, "they asked me to do it out of concern for you, and I happened to agree with them, so I said I would. What harm did it cause you? You love sleeping almost as much as you love drinking, and that's what you'd have done were it any other night—sleeping, I mean. So don't give me that 'I am so righteously pissed off at you' crap, because I don't want to hear it!"

She was breathing a bit heavily after that little spiel, and I could tell she'd rehearsed it beforehand. That was a bit odd. She normally came up with this rubbish off the top of her head; she was quite good at it, in fact.

I huffed. "It was sneaky and underhanded. You could have said, 'There is a Sleeping Draught in this booze, Tia, which I am fully aware you want to drink' and then forced it down my throat. At least then I'd have known what you were about to do."

"Don't be an idiot," she advised, tipping a measured amount of ground nettles into the cauldron, then slamming down the mortar. "You fight dirty. I've seen you, it's despicable. I'd have lost an eye or something."

"Better an eye than my trust," I returned dramatically.

"Potter warned me you'd react this way," she said, looking up at the ceiling with an all-suffering sigh.

"And I'm not finished reacting, either! You just wait 'til—"

She clapped a hand over my mouth and I squeaked indignantly at the inhumanity of it all. I was just considering biting her when she removed something from her pocket and held it in front of my face.

Gold-and-black label. Swirly letters. The possibility of the words 'almond crème' and 'pure dark.' The siren's song of my sweet-tooth.

"You evil, loathsome temptress," I breathed when her hand dropped away, my eyes fixed on the thick bar of Honeyduke's chocolate in front of me.

"An olive branch," she declared, "to show that we meant nothing by sedating you, beyond our own concern that you would make yourself sick by staying up all night, tormented with worry."

I met her gaze then, my brow lifting wryly. "It's only because I care about them. You know that, don't you? They know that?"

She smiled at me suddenly, as if in understanding. "Yes, I think so."

I shook my head slowly, my stomach flipping uncomfortably as I recalled the feeling of mild dread I'd experienced the night before, watching their backs as they climbed through the portrait-hole, laughing and shoving and totally unconcerned about what they were about to do yet again.

"I've heard James say that he thought I might be jealous that they get to go out and I have to stay behind. But that's got nothing to do with it. If it wasn't so risky what they do, I'd only be glad for the break from male company. "

I wasn't entirely sure that they realised just how dangerous everything they'd been doing really was, from the moment they decided to become Animagi. They had offered to help me become one as well, back in fifth year when James had first started getting ideas—they helped Peter; giving me a hand would've been easy. I wasn't total crap at Transfiguration, after all, my Advanced class being clear evidence of the fact. But I'd turned them down, because I was scared and I recognised how much trouble we could get in—and I don't mean just at Hogwarts, or even with the Ministry.

It wasn't that I didn't love a good bit of adventure. I was aiming to become a curse breaker, of all things. But how unsafe was it to mess about with magic most fully-trained wizards couldn't manage?

Lily was regarding me thoughtfully now. "I didn't know that."

My hands were fisted in my lap, and I stared down at them to keep myself from saying too much—the lads would kill me if I told Lily the truth about their being Animagi. If I disagreed with it this much, I could only imagine what she would have to say on the matter.

"I don't… mind that they do it, really. Their hearts are in the right place with it, and it's so good for Remus, you can see how much it helps when he comes back. Their going out with him on… on those nights has only ever bothered me this much because of how easily they could hurt themselves every time. And Remus—he'd never forgive himself if he hurt one of them. Never. He wouldn't dream of blaming them for any of it either, and it would tear him apart. They put themselves directly in his path and it would be their fault if anything happened but—"

I stopped abruptly when I realised how high my voice was getting and how fast I was talking. My eyes prickled and I irritably blinked back the tears that wanted to form there, uncurling my fingers because my nails were cutting painfully into my palms.

Lily said nothing, merely tore the wrapping off the chocolate bar, broke off two pieces, and offered one to me.

I accepted it, chewing slowly, and swallowed the smooth, almond flavoured deliciousness to push the lump in my throat back down where it belonged.

"Thanks," I said at length, grudgingly; not sure whether I meant it in regards to something totally apart from the chocolate.

She just grinned, then slid the rest of the bar across the table to me and went back to perfecting the potion that was to be submitted by the two of us at the end of class—to which I'd not contributed a single effort.

Well, hell.

I was starting to learn that, much as she loved to talk, if you wanted to know the real Lily Evans, you paid attention to what she did while her mouth was closed.

My conversation with Lily had put into perspective her and the lads' intentions, so I chose to take the high road and let slip them drugging me without my knowledge the one night a month I wanted to stay awake.

Not to say I actually told any of them that. They all still thought I was angry with them (all except Lily, who I imagine wouldn't have cared much anyway if I were), and I was enjoying watching them squirm every time I entered a room far too much to tell them any different. I'd let them off the proverbial hook soon enough, but for now I would have my fun.

I was due for a turn, in my opinion.

And so it went on until Thursday morning when at last the first sign that the Christmas hols was looming ever nearer arrived in the form of a letter from my parents. James, too, received a several-pages long missive from his own, and we opened them together at the breakfast table the minute they came.

Sirius, who normally would have been right in there reading over my shoulder, was instead eyeing me warily as he kept his distance and spooned treacle onto his porridge.

I ignored him and unfolded the slate-blue paper my mother favoured for her correspondence.

Dear Modern Career Woman Living in My Daughter's Body," the letter began, in Mum's neat and precise cursive.

I realise that you are probably terribly busy, plagued with a longer To-Do list than the Minister for Magic himself. Your time must be extremely precious, or why else would you not have written your father and I in over a month? Indeed, I understand completely, and will therefore keep this short so that you can get on with your all-consuming business, whatever that may be.

I winced, shifting in my seat a bit guiltily. Mum tended to use irony as a weapon, and she was bloody good at it, too.

As always, we will be there to meet you at King's Cross Tuesday night, eagerly awaiting the sight of your angelic smile, should you deem us worthy to grace it upon. The holidays are a time for miracles, after all. Aunt Meg and Uncle Robbie will be staying with us this year, since it is our turn to play host (as you are well aware, and so any claim of yours to having some mysterious foreign disease and therefore being unable to leave the castle infirmary will go ignored—don't even bother, dear.)

Additionally, a few other relatives will be coming to stay through New Years. It isn't anything to get worked up about; you can remove that horrified expression from your face. However, due to your less-than-subtle comments re the amount of guests we invited last year, your father and I have agreed to allow you to bring a guest of your own. Just one, and do practise some discretion, darling.

On a parting note, I shall say only this, and then you may return at once to the hectic circus called Your Own Life; your cousin, in an oh-so-dutiful letter to his parents, happened to mention something about you expressing a peculiar and sudden desire to receive a Muggle guitar (one of the loud ones, with a plug; à la The Beatles) for your gift this year. In response to that, your father has written his own brief conclusion (I shall bid you adieu now, and send my love, as I fear he will break the pen.)

My eyes widened as they raced over the lines following, written in a much bolder and less discreet hand.

Portia Catharine Spencer, if you so much as think electric guitar ever again, I can promise you there will be no chocolate torte this year. James also said, in a separate letter to myself, that you wanted a tattoo on your arse and to put a hole through a fair inappropriate part of your body. If I find you've made good on that (and don't think I won't have your mum check once you get here), I am sending you to live with your Aunt Greer in the convent up North. Is that understood? With love,

-Dad.

My head came up and I saw James avoiding my eye rather obviously. He was gazing up at the ceiling and humming softly to himself.

My God. I was surrounded by traitors, I realised incredulously.

"Right," said Sirius warily, watching as I slowly stood up, the letter crumpling in my curling fist. "Maybe just sitting there isn't the best plan after all, mate."

James shot me a panicked glance, nodded once, then bolted from the table. I tore off after him, hollering, "You told him what? I can't believe you! What'll I do for fun now, eh? Get back here, and I'll show you putting a hole in a fair inappropriate part of your body!"

In the event, James managed to get away without a scratch for lying so shamelessly about me to my farther on the grounds that a) I was so much more mature than he, that I could overlook such a childish display of betrayal; and b) he ran quite a lot faster than me.

That night in the common-room, I sat on the ottoman at the foot of Sirius' chair, glaring sulkily at the flames dancing merrily in the nearby hearth while James sat perched on the arm of the sofa a few feet away, eyeing me circumspectly for any sign of renewed hostility.

Peter was sniggering at the two of us behind his Herbology textbook, while Remus was calmly and industriously finishing his three-and-a-half-foot long Defence essay that I'd yet to start.

"So…" James began, attempting to sound friendly and charming, smiling winningly at me. "Another holiday spent together. Should be a laugh."

I ignored him, clenching my jaw to keep from saying anything too rude.

"I'd rather stick my head in a vat of eels than spend my hols with you, you untrustworthy, false-tongued twat."

Okay, so it slipped out.

Sirius leaned forward in his chair, dropping his chin on the top of my head with a woebegone sigh. He slid his hands up my arms to squeeze my shoulders encouragingly. "If it helps, I'll be there as well. We could draw silly moustaches on him while he sleeps. We could tell your Aunt Meg he got McGoogles pregnant. And then we could all get uproariously pissed on your dad's excellent egg-nog and have a jolly time of it."

"Hang on—what d'you mean, you'll be there? Just assumed you'd be the one I'd invite, did you?" I snapped, twisting in my seat to stare at him in spiteful rage.

Unfazed, he patted my cheek. "Alas, you've forgotten I always stay the hols with James. Where he goes, I go. I'm part of the package, love."

I blinked. Damn it. I had planned to invite Sirius as my guest. Now who would I take, since James had decided to steal my first choice? Stealing, lying… would he cheat on me next?

Neither Remus nor Peter would be able to come. Remus, I knew, was going to Italy with his parents for Christmas, and Peter's mother never let him spend his holidays away from home. What other friends did I have?

There were Lily and Aubrey. That wasn't such a bad idea, actually. Which would I ask, though?

The question, no sooner had it crossed my mind, answered itself in the form of irrefutable logic, my old friend.

If I brought Lily, not only would it make for a good bit of intelligent conversation, but there would be the added advantage of watching James trip over himself trying to impress her. Come to think of it, with the two of them stuck in close quarters, we may not need to get drunk for entertainment after all.