She's only just walked into the offices after practice when Harrison shoves a parcel into her hand.

"That's Potter's uniform," he tells her. "Go try to grab him before he leaves for the day so that he can try it on and make sure everything fits properly."

She could write a fifteen-inch essay on all the things she'd rather do than chase James Potter down to make him try on his Puddlemere United uniform, but she decides not to argue with Harrison on this. There are some things worth fighting for, and this isn't one of them.

"On it," she tells him, turning on her heel and heading back towards the locker rooms.

Finding James turns out to be almost too easy - he's just walking out of the locker room as she walks in.

"Potter," she says sharply, and he turns to face her. His hand jumps up to his still-wet hair, raking through it and splattering water droplets along the shoulders of his white shirt.

"Alright, Evans?"

An uninvited wave of nostalgia hits her at his response. The sound of his voice forming that one phrase he'd said countless times at school - to the point that she'd more or less associated it solely with him - brings about a sort of melancholy.

She tamps that reaction down immediately and holds the parcel out to him. "Harrison wants you to try on your uniform and confirm everything fits properly before you leave today."

He stares at it, at her stiffly outstretched arms, for a moment, like he's trying to calculate something.

"Great, yeah, I'll do that then." He takes his uniform from her hands and turns back to go into the locker room.

As he turns his back on her, she realises that she's pretty much stuck here until he comes out. So she lets her bag fall at her side and leans against the wall, watching as the last few players and staff trickle out of the locker room.

Her mind wanders while she waits - mentally ticking off the list of things she's got to accomplish when she gets home, the errands she needs to run in the next few days, and the things she needs to remember to put in a letter to Marlene and Dorcas.

"So do I need to get some official stamp of approval from you on this?" She looks up, ripped abruptly out of her own thoughts, to the sight of James in his uniform, looking at her expectantly before slowly turning around.

The whole thing fits perfectly - as it should, given it was made custom based on his measurements - so he's got no reason to ask for her opinion here. No reason, except the fact that he knows damn well what he's doing here, knows just how fitted those Quidditch trousers are. He's toying with her, teasing out the cracks in her composure the same way he's done before, preying on the fact that he knows she's attracted to him no matter how much she doesn't want to be.

She's not going to give him the satisfaction of showing it. "It's fine," she answers.

"Great," he replies. If he's disappointed by her lack of response, he doesn't show it.

But she's already annoyed, because the fact that he's just so confident in his own attractiveness just rubs her the wrong way. (Maybe hypocritically so, given her confidence in her own, but she can't be bothered to reckon with that right now.) He's so used to getting any girl that he wants - when he pulls this same shit on them as he's pulling on her right now, it works.

Those recent Witch Weekly photos are proof of that.

She shouldn't say it, she shouldn't pick a fight for no reason given that they're already not on great terms from the last one, but she can't resist. It would be a lie if she claimed that, as vexing as they may be, there's not a certain thrill that comes from picking fights with someone who can and will match her in temper and intensity.

"I heard you had some fun this weekend," she says casually, pushing herself off of her spot against the wall.

The muscle in his jaw clenches. "Oh, you did?" he replies, matching her tone.

"Yeah. Exactly all the things you got all offended over and claimed you weren't doing last time we talked."

He shakes his head. "No, I told you that the tabloids were telling lies - that's still true."

She gives him a disbelieving look. "Oh, so I'm just supposed to believe that photographic evidence is a lie?"

"Well it certainly doesn't tell the full story," he answers.

She scoffs at that. "Half of those pictures were almost inappropriate for a magazine - I'm surprised they didn't get a shot of you fucking that girl in the middle of the club, honestly. I don't know how much more thorough you can get with your storytelling than that."

He raises an eyebrow. "That's what you're going to fixate on? For fuck's sake, I'm allowed to hook up with people. That certainly won't affect my Quidditch playing, that should be the least of your concerns about whatever the fuck you want to think I'm doing all the time."

"Not when you're - " she sighs loudly in frustration, not knowing where she wants to go with that.

It's not that he sleeps around - because so does she, and she'd be a real hypocrite for refusing to acknowledge that one - but just… he goes through girls like they're all fucking disposable. And they're not.

(She's not.)

Anger flashes in his eyes, bright and burning. "Care to finish that sentence? Because from my perspective, I really don't think there's anything wrong with having a few one night stands - with people who don't want anything more than a one night stand, mind you - other than maybe not fitting your own moral standards. I'm a fucking adult who's allowed to make my own decisions, and so was she, so I really don't see the problem here."

"This isn't about my 'moral standards,' " she replies immediately.

He cuts off anything else she was about to say with a mocking laugh. "So are you jealous, Evans? Is that what it is?"

It takes every ounce of self-control for Lily not to slap his smug expression right off his face.

"You know, despite what you've let your ego convince yourself of, not everyone is just dying to kiss the ground you walk on," she says icily. "Trust me when I say I don't want you that way at all."

She expects him to refute that, to maybe even bring up last week's ground training session as evidence to his point, but instead, the arrogant look on his face fades entirely, replaced by a mask of expressionlessness. "Trust me, you've made that very obvious."

It takes her a moment to register his unexpected response. "Well… good."

"Now, if you're done criticising my life choices for whatever fucked-up reason you have for it, you can leave," he says coldly. "The uniform fits - your job here is done."

He walks back into the locker room, leaving Lily with the realisation that he's managed to have the last word - again.

Which frustrates her more than she cares to admit. It makes her feel like she's losing every single one of their arguments, and she doesn't like that feeling at all.

Especially when she's the one with the higher ground anyways.

If only he'd let her actually have it.

She has the day off the next day, and uses it to get some errands done that she's been putting off for a few days. One of them involves a trip to Flourish and Blotts for a particular potions theory book that none of the shops near Puddlemere have in stock.

While she's there, she decides to peruse some of the other sections of the shop, on the off chance that she finds something else interesting.

As it turns out, there's a book on famous Animagi in history that catches her eye, and she finds herself poking through it as she wanders down an aisle.

She doesn't notice him until it's too late, until they're practically colliding with one another and he stumbles backwards trying to get out of her way.

And then recognition flashes across his face, combined with a few other emotions that she can't quite place. He looks like he can't quite believe she's really there.

"Lily?"

"Sirius," she says, her voice strangely choked as she says his name. "Hi."

His eyes briefly wander over her - not in the creepy sort of way that a lot of people do, but more like he's sizing her up, gauging how much she's changed since the last time he saw her. It's fair enough; it's been a long time.

"I've gotta say," he responds after a moment, "running into you is quite a surprise."

"Yeah, same for you." She's usually good at moving through Diagon Alley without running into anyone she went to school with.

He looks different from how he did back then - his hair is shorter than it was, but now he's got the beginnings of a beard lining his jaw. And like James, he's filled out from when he was eighteen.

… Has she really not seen him since he was eighteen?

Sirius seems to be thinking about the same sort of things. "It's been a while - I mean, god, last time I saw you was… just a few months after we'd graduated, yeah?"

"That sounds about right, yeah," she replies, smiling weakly.

She's slightly embarrassed that it's been that long. She'd never really intentionally set out to cut Sirius, Remus, and Peter out of her life, but it seems that James was the glue that'd pieced together her friendship with the rest of them to begin with - and without him in her life, she just… well, she kind of drifted away.

An uncomfortable silence ensues as she thinks back to that day, and she's quite sure Sirius's thoughts have drifted there as well. "How have you been?" she asks, trying to distract from the sudden awkwardness.

"Pretty good, all things considered," he says, grinning. "I've got a gig at a motorcycle shop, you know, fixing up bikes and all that. Just about the most Muggle thing you could possibly do - repairing those things with nothing but tools and your own two hands - I imagine my dear old mum would just about have a fit if she knew."

Knowing Sirius's family history, she doesn't doubt it. And of course, it's so perfectly like Sirius to end up doing the very thing that he knows would most piss off his fanatical pureblood relatives.

"And what about you?" he asks. "What have you been up to for the past couple of years?"

"I'm on the coaching staff at Puddlemere."

Sirius lets out a low whistle. "Well shit, that explains it."

She cocks her head at him, confused by his nonsensical response. "Explains what?"

He laughs under his breath before answering. "Prongs has a… er, very specific mood when it comes to things involving you. Always did. So it was a bit weird to see it pop up randomly for the first time in three years."

Huh. She decides to prod him a bit further - it's the first she's ever heard of that, especially given… well, everything that happened between them three years ago. "What do you mean by a 'very specific mood'?"

"It's hard to explain, really," Sirius replies with a shrug. "There's just something about you that sets him off more than anything - or anyone - else."

"Oh," is all she manages in response.

That contradicts everything she knows about post-graduation James; he hasn't made any indication that he gives a damn about her, certainly not the way he did in school. Hell, he's still barely spoken a word to her that wasn't in response to her picking some sort of fight.

So it's strange, then, that she'd have any sort of hold on him at this point.

"How are Peter and Remus?" she asks him, trying to change the subject once again.

It works, diverting the conversation away from James entirely. "Pete's doing great. Got himself a job managing the Magical Menagerie just up the road from here, and a pretty serious girlfriend to boot. She's kind of perfect for him - and I'm pretty sure he's saving up for a ring at this point, so it's just a matter of time until they're married."

She'd never expected that, out of the four of them, Peter would be the first to settle down.

But a lot can change in three years, and she supposes this is just yet another one of those things.

"And Remus," he continues, "Remus is good. He's doing some archiving work with Bathilda Bagshot, and, er, we just bought a house together just outside of London."

Based on the way his cheeks colour, she assumes there's more to his current situation with Remus than just 'buying a house.'

"Buying a house together," she says casually. "That seems like a pretty big commitment."

He laughs. "Ah yeah, I suppose it is. It just kind of seemed like the next step given that we've been together for almost three years now."

And there's the zinger.

She smiles - a genuine one, not just one born out of politeness. "I'm really happy for you two."

"Thanks," Sirius replies, ruffling his hair in a way that immediately reminds her of James. "We're really happy too."

She's reminded of just how similar the two boys can be sometimes - in mannerisms, in attitude, in unconscious habits. They've been inseparable since 11 and practically brothers since 16, so it makes sense.

There's a long lull in the conversation - awkward and heavy, as the two of them equally grapple with where to go next.

Sirius breaks it first. "What happened to all of us? Why has it been three years?"

She shrugs, unable to come up with a real answer. "I guess we fell apart in the usual way."

"We should change that. You should come over sometime, for dinner or something," he says. "I'm sure Remus would love to see you."

She's kind of baffled by the invitation, honestly. From the way he's talked, it seems he's not entirely unaware of the fact that she and James haven't exactly been civil recently, and she would've thought he'd immediately side with James - and only James - on everything.

Of course, it's entirely possible that he's just extending the invitation out of politeness while they're talking, and has absolutely no intention of following through with it.

"That would be lovely," she finds herself responding automatically. It's not a lie - catching up with Remus would be lovely, as would seeing Sirius again and making an effort to keep up with them more, but she's just not fully convinced they care enough to actually turn this theoretical invitation into a real one.

"Great, I'll talk to Remus and we can figure out a day that works for all of us," he replies, grinning. "And I promise, James won't be there."

Her eyes go wide. Honestly, she hadn't even been thinking about that as a possibility. But it wouldn't be entirely out of the realm of possibility that a casual dinner with old friends would also involve James, so she's kind of grateful for the disclaimer. They haven't been able to peacefully coexist in the same room together for more than a few minutes outside of Quidditch practices, so she really can't imagine a scenario in which a group dinner doesn't end with her pouring a drink over his head.

"That's… good," she says tentatively.

"I just wanted to make sure we were clear on that." Sirius looks mildly entertained by her reaction. "Merlin knows we all tried to play matchmaker for the two of you one too many times at Hogwarts, so expecting that we'd sic Prongs on you for dinner with no warning would've been a totally fair suspicion. But we've grown past that one now, I think - if anything is ever going to happen between the two of you, it's going to have to happen without any outside intervention."

Lily resists the natural urge to scoff at that. 'If anything is going to happen' implies that there's even the tiniest chance of something romantic sparking between the two of them, and while Lily can accept that she's physically attracted to him, she's damn sure there's nothing emotional there anymore.

Nor will there ever be - not when he's shown his true colours to her loud and clear.

"Well, thank you for the clarification," she eventually responds. "And I look forward to hearing from the two of you."

Her response is stilted, unnecessarily formal. She nearly cringes at that, but it's too late to restructure her words into something warmer.

She's just about to turn and walk away - she can come back to this aisle later, when it's free of old friends and awkward conversations, but Sirius speaks again as soon as her back's to him.

"Oh, and Lily?"

She turns.

"It's just… James really isn't as bad as what everyone makes him out to be. You don't have to, but… if you hear him out, I promise things start to make more sense."

Lily just nods at that. "Okay."

And then Sirius is the one walking away, and she's left weighing his words in her mind. She's not sure how much stock she wants to put in them, but somehow, she can't help but start to believe them.

The wizarding town of Puddlemere is a pretty small one - there's a fairly limited number of shops along the main street, featuring only the necessities. Lily loves the quaintness of it all, even though it does feel a bit claustrophobic at times, particularly when all the shopkeepers know her by name and have her shopping habits memorised.

There's a distinct advantage to that sometimes though, and one such instance is at Billywig Books and Brews, the tiny bookstore-slash-tea-shop at the very edge of the main street. It's one of her most frequent haunts - other than the Puddlemere training facility, of course - because it's so secluded and solitary, and sometimes she can really think of nothing better than the idea of spending a whole afternoon lost in a book while sipping hot tea out of one of the café's many mismatched mugs.

And after a particularly messy session with the Beaters, she can think of no better way to spend the rest of her day.

The little bell dings above her head as she walks in, and the herbs-and-parchment scent of the shop overwhelms her senses. It's inexplicably calming, which is exactly what she needs right now.

She makes a beeline for the back - there are little tables all throughout the shop, but her favourite one is positioned so far away from everything that hardly anyone thinks to go looking for it. Even Lily only found it by complete accident; but it quickly became her spot, because of its seclusion, because the lighting there is the best of anywhere in the shop, and because it's never taken, no matter how busy the rest of the shop may be.

Which makes the sight she's greeted with that much more surprising.

Her prize table is occupied, which is a shock in and of itself because no one usually likes sitting all the way back here, but what's even more shocking is the person occupying it.

James. Reading some massive and presumably dense text about Merlin knows what, biting his lip in concentration as he reads.

He looks up at the sudden arrival of another person in the back room, clearly of the same mind as her that no one comes back here. When he sees her, he raises an eyebrow skeptically.

"Can I help you?"

"You're at my table," she blurts out.

He seems largely unphased by her response. "I wasn't aware any of these tables belonged to anyone."

"I - they don't," she answers. "I just… no one usually comes back to this one."

"Yeah, well, I generally find that secluded back corners are the only safe place to be. As you said yourself, no one usually comes back to them."

There's a definite note of bitterness in his voice that betrays something deeper than the casual way he's trying to pass off his comment.

"You're hiding?"

"I usually am," he answers.

She could turn around and find a different table, but for some reason, she doesn't want to. "Mind if I join?" she asks, more than partway sure that he's going to immediately shoot her down and tell her to leave him alone.

It's funny, in a way, because sharing a table to study is something they used to do all the time, and there was never any hesitancy or awkwardness to it at all. But that was back when he fit in her poems like a perfect rhyme; now, it seems like they're perpetually cacophonous and off-rhythm.

He doesn't shoot her down though. "Uh, sure," is his answer, and that's good enough for her.

She sits down, pulling out the book she'd bought from Diagon Alley earlier this week and perfectly prepared to just spend her time reading in silence. She doesn't need to talk to her tablemate.

And yet… part of her wants to. Whether she likes it or not, Sirius' words have been bouncing around in her mind.

Even if she has her suspicions, she might as well at least attempt to hear James out. She doubts he'll actually be able to exonerate himself, but there's no harm in listening to him, if only so he can stop accusing her of not doing so.

"I have a question," she says after a few minutes, breaking the settled silence between the two of them.

James doesn't answer, just looks up from his book and raises an eyebrow skeptically. She supposes she deserves that suspicion - most conversations that she's initiated with him over the past few weeks haven't exactly ended well.

"So it's… it's not true then, the story the magazines have been telling about you over the years?"

He laughs, but it's a hollow one, like he's heard this a million times before. "Not in the slightest, Evans."

Seventh Year, January 1978

She can't sleep.

It's horribly unfair, really, that the first opportunity she's had all week to get more than five hours of sleep is interrupted by her waking up at 3 a.m. and not being able to fall back asleep.

This finds her in the common room in the early hours of the morning, curled up in an armchair and mindlessly flipping through a book she's read so many times she could practically recite it by heart.

There's a peaceful sort of quiet to the common room at this hour. It's almost always full of movement and life throughout the day, so it's a strange sight to see it completely emptied of students, the only evidence of their presence being the various belongings they've discarded or left behind - a stray quill here, a cardigan draped over a chair there. She lets herself bask in the utter lack of activity, eyes closing for just a moment in contemplative silence.

She nearly jumps when she hears the portrait door swing open, destroying the stillness of the room. She's hidden from view, massive as the chair she's sitting in is, but she can see clearly as three boys materialise out of thin air.

And, of course, who else to be three boys sneaking into the common room just before the break of dawn than James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew.

"Really, I would've thought after seven years of sneaking around, you would've realised you shouldn't take the Cloak off until you're all the way to the dormitory," she comments, shifting position so that they can see her.

Three heads whip her way at once, all in various stages of surprise.

Sirius recovers from the shock first, smirking at her. "See, we've tried that one, Evans, and the simple fact of the matter is that those staircases simply are not wide enough for three blokes under a cloak. It worked when we were 11… not so much now."

He makes a good point there. It's honestly a miracle of itself that the three of them can fit under it at the same time at all.

"What exactly were you doing out at this hour anyways?" Lily asks.

James pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Just a quick late-night kitchen run, that's all."

"Bullshit," she replies immediately, because she's been down here for over two hours now and she definitely would've noticed them leaving if they'd actually just gone to the kitchens. She looks at them for a bit, taking in the fact that they all look slightly mangled, and there's definitely… that's a leaf in James' hair. "You lot snuck into the Forest, didn't you?"

And then she thinks of something else. "Oh my god, Remus," she breathes softly, before raising her voice again. "What the fuck were you lot doing gallivanting around in the woods on a full moon?"

Sirius just blinks at her and plays dumb. "What does that have to do with Remus?"

She levels him with a glare that he at least has the sense to shrink back from. "You know exactly what it has to do with Remus. I know what he is - and before you ask, no, I don't care, because it doesn't change who he is. What I do care about, however, is the fact that all of you were stupid enough to be outside when you know full well he has no control over himself - honestly, what were you even thinking?"

The three boys all exchange looks - there's some unspoken conversation going on between all of them in the form of nods, raised eyebrows, and facial expressions that Lily can't even begin to follow, but it seems to come to a conclusion when Sirius and Peter start walking up to the dormitory, leaving just James.

He takes a seat on the couch next to her, and the pale golden glow of the fire in front of them makes the thin scratches zigzagging down his arms and hands even more apparent.

Staring at those marks, she starts to feel her anger subside - and vaguely, she's aware that it wasn't really anger to begin with. It was fear.

She's actually scared at the thought of losing him. And it's a weird thing to think about - realising that for the first time, he's even something she could lose.

His voice is unsteady when he speaks. "We wanted to do whatever we could to help him."

"At the risk of your own lives though? He's not himself, and a werewolf attack could kill you, or - "

"We're not - " he pauses and looks at her seriously. "I'm going to tell you something, but it's - I'm putting my ass on the line, and Sirius's and Peter's as well, so I need to… I need you to promise that you'll keep this secret for us. This is a hell of a lot bigger than the map and the cloak."

She feels a knot of uncertainty in her stomach at that - being asked to keep a secret before she even knows what it is… that's a lot to ask of her. But then again, it's James, and she can't help but inherently trust him. Whatever secret he's got is something worth keeping.

"As long as this secret of yours isn't putting anyone in danger, I can keep it."

For some odd reason, James smiles wryly at that. "Define danger," he says playfully, before quickly turning stoic again when she gives him another look. "No, but really, it's not - no one's in any real danger other than, well," he gestures at the scratches on his arms as a means of finishing that sentence.

She doesn't say anything to him at that, just nods to get him to continue.

"Remus's transformations are bad. I mean, werewolf transformations are always bad, but Remus is always boarded up in the Shrieking Shack, and when the wolf has nowhere to run and nothing to take out its aggression on… well, it goes after Remus. He would be so fucked up after the full moon, and so we - me, Sirius, and Peter - decided we'd do whatever we could to help him. And so we… did."

He ruffles his hair nervously. "Fuck, there's not really a delicate way of phrasing this, you know? We're Animagi. Completely unregistered of course, but... animals aren't affected by werewolf bites the way humans are, so the three of us are able to keep Remus company and keep him from hurting himself."

Of all the things she might've expected James to confess to her, the fact that he's apparently an illegal Animagus was absolutely not one of them. She's not entirely sure she believes it, honestly - how the hell could they have even managed that level of advanced magic?

"You're… an unregistered Animagus," she repeats back to him, a bit dumbfounded. "For how long?"

"Well, we'd been trying to get the transformation down since third year, but it wasn't until fifth when we finally all managed it."

She half-expects that this is the point he admits he's joking, face splitting into a maniacal grin as he laughs at the fact that she fell for it, but the mix of sincerity and concern on his face tells her that he's being totally serious. "That's - James, that's incredibly advanced magic. You managed it at sixteen?"

"Technically I was still fifteen, but yeah," he replies.

She's got an instinct to tell him off for showing off for her, but the look in his eyes is a deadly serious one, and she realises that he's not saying that for her benefit. It's just… a simple fact. This isn't something he did for the sake of bragging about it or showing off - he just did it because his friend needed him.

She shouldn't be surprised - she's spent a lot of this year learning and that James is a lot different than how she's always thought of him.

So her curiosity takes a different turn. "What do you turn into?"

"A stag."

She can't explain why, but that seems to fit him.

"And the others?"

"Sirius is a dog, Peter's a rat," he answers. "Dead useful combination, really."

She decides that it's maybe not in her best interest to ask why exactly that's a useful combination. She's already learned enough about how they're all risking their lives on a regular basis and really doesn't need anything else adding to that right about now.

"That's… wow."

James shrugs. "We did what we needed to do."

She's not sure she knows anyone else who would go to those sorts of lengths for their friend. What they're doing for Remus is above and beyond, and if she didn't already firmly believe in how good these boys are, this might've done it for her.

"It's still incredible," she tells him.

"So you'll keep it a secret? You won't tell anyone? Since, you know, we're not actually putting anyone in danger?" There's an earnest look on his face that suggests he's really desperate for verification, even though she's already made this promise once before.

And she doesn't even have to think twice about making it again. "On my honour, your secret's safe with me."

He visibly relaxes. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

It's only then that Lily notices their proximity, the way his thigh is pressed against hers and his face so close to hers that she can see it in clear detail even in the low light of the common room, and she instantly feels her face heat up. She's not sure why the discovery elicits that sort of reaction - and decides to file that under things she'll think about when she's not completely exhausted.

James doesn't seem to notice the blush on her cheeks, but he does notice the time. "Well, it's staggeringly late, I should get to bed. You should too, for that matter."

It takes her a moment to realise the emphasis in his previous sentence. "Was that… was that a deer pun?"

He smirks. "Maybe it was. Goodnight, Evans."

He's halfway to the stairs before she remembers to reply with a, "Goodnight, Potter."

And he's all the way up the stairs when she notices that his scarf is still sitting on the table in front of them. She's not sure when he took it off, but it's definitely his - there's still a twig stuck in the fringe to prove it.

After staring at it for a while, she decides she should take his advice and try to go to back to sleep again. But before she does that, she grabs a piece of parchment and a quill, jotting something down.

She leaves his scarf outside his dormitory door before going up to her own room. When he wakes up, he'll find it, pick it up, and see the note she left pinned on it.

Oh deer, I think you forgot this in the common room. - Lily