Much of December passes by silently. Training goes as it always does, gearing up for the start of the season after the holidays, and Lily predictably ends up putting most of her time and energy into work.

James doesn't speak to her again, and for once, she doesn't feel the constant urge to pick a fight with him. Maybe she was just so desperate to get that last word for once that finally getting it drained her of any desire to fight with him, or maybe she just doesn't have anything left to say to him anymore, but their only interactions come from a purely professional standpoint - Lily giving a pointer for his next shot, him executing it almost perfectly the next time.

She hardly even realizes it when Christmas approaches - it really only hits her when they run their last practice before the holidays and Harrison reminds the team that they're getting the next three days off so that they can properly go home and celebrate, but they're not allowed to do anything stupid while they're at it.

Lily isn't much for holidays, at least not these days. She loves Christmas, the twinkling lights and cheery music and festive atmosphere, but something about it has soured with age.

It's nothing about the holiday itself, or any holidays really, but more so to do with the fact that every single one of them is a reminder of family - and that alone is enough to ruin the whole thing.

Her mother didn't even bother inviting her home this Christmas. Admittedly, Lily hasn't gone home the past two years and it's unlikely she would've even gone if she had been invited, but still. The gesture would've at least been something. It would've at least been some acknowledgement that there's a second Evans daughter - not a perfect one with a successful husband and darling baby boy like the first one, but a daughter nonetheless.

She misses her dad. If he was still here, he would've made sure Lily got a Christmas invitation. And if he was still here, she probably would've gone.

In the absence of her family, the holidays aren't completely spoiled though. She's got other people to spend the day with, which is why she's standing outside Marlene and Dorcas's flat knocking on the door on Christmas morning.

Marlene opens the door, wearing a flannel pyjama set covered in snowflakes. "Happy Christmas, Lily!" she says, before pulling Lily into a hug.

"Happy Christmas to you too," Lily replies. "Nice pyjamas, by the way."

Marlene pulls back, grinning. "You've got a set too, you know. Dorcas and I bought sets for all four of us, and I fully expect you to put yours on and wear them around until dinner."

Lily can't argue with that - being told to change out of her jeans and sweater into something infinitely cozier feels like a win on all accounts.

The package comes sailing from behind Marlene's head (presumably thrown by Dorcas, although Lily never actually saw the other woman throw it), and Lily catches it easily. The set is identical to Marlene's, except instead of snowflakes, hers are covered in little reindeer.

"Get it?" Dorcas asks from the couch. "Because of your Patronus?"

The sight of all the little deer immediately makes her think of someone else, and she shuts that thought down as quickly as it came. She's trying to enjoy today, and she's not going to let yet another person darken her view of what really should be a wonderful holiday. She hates that she lets herself see James everywhere; the fact that she's haunted by those little inside jokes that once were theirs but are no one's now.

"I love them," she lies, or maybe it's not actually a lie, but as usual, she can't quite entangle the cocktail of emotions that any reminder of James seems to stir up in her.

"Well then, get changed," Marlene says, nudging Lily towards the bathroom. "Mary will be here any minute and I will be extremely disappointed if we aren't all matching by the time she arrives."

Lily does as she's told, going into the girls' tiny guest bathroom and swapping out her clothes for the pyjamas. As she looks in the mirror, she can't help but smile at her reflection - it's so festive and cheerful that it's a bit difficult not to be happy about it.

Marlene and Dorcas have taken it upon themselves to make a rather extravagant Christmas brunch, at least by Lily's standards. There's almost too many dishes to choose between - certainly more than four women could be expected to consume over the course of a couple hours. After thinking through which foods she wants to start with, Lily pours herself a cup of coffee and grabs a still-warm cinnamon roll from the counter, finding a spot on the girls' expansive couch and curling up in it.

Mary arrives not long after - the pyjamas Marlene throws at her are covered in elves and stockings - and the four of them look like the image of a Christmas card by the time they're all outfitted.

It's cheesy as hell, and Lily finds she kind of loves it.

The combination of circumstances that has brought her three people to spend Christmas morning with, and three people who she's honestly happier to spend it with than her own family, who she'd traditionally be expected to spend it with, is a mix of good fortune and unfair situations. Mary's parents are too far away this year, Dorcas' family - beyond a few siblings - haven't acknowledged her much since she came out, and Marlene's dad is caught up with a new family with his third wife.

They're all misfits, in their own right. Always have been, in a sense.

They all open gifts together, pausing to refill cups of coffee or add more food to their plates every so often, and then, with a pile of crumpled up balls of wrapping paper in the center of the room, they fall into easy conversation.

There are times where Lily feels somewhat out of touch with what's happening around her - Marlene and Dorcas live together, and the two of them see Mary far more than she sees any of them, so there are certain times where it'll become obvious that this is something the three of them have talked about before.

She's also accepted that her Quidditch schedule and Order work have kept her somewhat isolated. She's missed all too many a girls' night because of some shitty pureblood social event. There's not much she can do about it - she's certain she could make a little bit more effort if she really tried, but at this point, she's got enough going on.

And she's here for the important things, at least, like Christmas.

"Oh. You'll never guess who I ran into the other day," Mary says, and the sudden change of tone startles Lily back into the conversation.

"Who?"

"Peter Pettigrew," she answers. "And his girlfriend of over two years - who, by the way, is fucking gorgeous, so good for him."

"Oh god, I haven't seen Pettigrew in ages," Marlene says.

"Neither had I - I honestly almost didn't recognise him at first," Mary admits. She gives a brief rundown on Peter's life and the few updates she'd gotten form him about Remus and Sirius - all information Lily technically already knew, but she nods along with the other two women nonetheless.

"He also said he's throwing a party for New Year's," Mary throws out at the end. "He invited me and told me that if any of you want to come along, you're welcome to. It's mostly going to be people he's met after Hogwarts, so not too many people we know, but at the very least, the other Gryffindor boys will be there too."

Lily feels multiple sets of eyes glance over to her in that moment. She knows what they're all thinking. She's passed up on almost every social event involving people from their Hogwarts days for the same reason she'd avoided any interaction with the Portree Quidditch staff for the better part of her professional Quidditch career: she didn't want to risk a run-in with James if she could help it.

But now, the game has changed a little. Lily's no longer thinking about what might happen if she ever runs into him again - because she's done it, and it's gone exactly as horribly as she'd expected it would. She's got nothing to lose at this point

"I ignore him all the time at work - a party shouldn't be that different," she tells them. "And all of you will be there too, plus Remus and Sirius and Peter. It'll be fine."

It's not really a lie - they've been in a constant dance of refusing to acknowledge the other person's existence except in a professional sense for the past two weeks, and surely it'll be even easier to do the same at a noisy New Year's party.

She's boarded up any feeling she might've had left for him; she's done letting herself look into the boarded-up windows of their past when it's clear none of it is left anymore. She's made pretending it's okay when it's not into a fucking art form - now it's time to just close the book forever and stop letting James fucking Potter dictate how she lives her life.

What better way to start a new year than that?

Perhaps the single biggest perk of working for a professional Quidditch team is the all-hours access to any of the facilities. It's something she'd probably have to pay a fortune for otherwise, but instead she gets the entire training room to herself on Boxing Day.

This room has a tendency to feel hot and suffocating when it's occupied by an entire Quidditch team and the training staff, but alone, it's a never-ending sprawl of unused equipment.

Running training sessions is certainly a workout in and of itself, but it's not this. When Lily's alone in here, she can work herself to the bone, finding a twisted sort of joy in expending every last bit of energy she has and, after hitting that, seeing how much further she can push.

Her friends are all convinced she's batshit crazy for it, but to her there's truly nothing more satisfying than that moment at the end of a grueling workout where she hits the point of having nothing left to give, and just lays on the floor, staring up at the ceiling for an indeterminate amount of time while her heart rate and breathing settle and her limbs remember how to function again.

It makes her feel something, a welcome respite from feeling so goddamn numb all the time.

It's in that position, dripping sweat onto the cold concrete floor and counting ceiling tiles with each rapid breath, that a voice rings out across the training room, effectively scaring the shit out of her.

"Evans, didn't expect to see you here."

She shoots up into a seated position, her abdominal muscles screaming in protest from the sudden movement, to see Harrison standing at the doorway. None of the players or coaches are coming in today, and he's not in the habit of taking advantage of the training facilities himself like Lily does, so she's not sure what he's doing here.

"I'm just - " she has to pause in between words, still out of breath, "taking advantage - of my day off."

Harrison finds that humorous for some reason, grinning and shaking his head. "This isn't what most people would consider 'taking advantage of a day off,' but I suppose that's part of what makes you the very person I needed to speak to."

She wants to ask what he means by that, but she can't get the words out before he speaks again. "So it works out well that you're here. Meet me in my office when you're done and showered?"

He doesn't wait for an answer - Lily gets the feeling it's more a command than a request anyways.

Her brain wants to rush through her recovery and shower, desperately curious to figure out what the hell Harrison wants to talk to her about, but her body imposes its own limitations. As a result, she's stuck taking her time and thinking through a hundred possible reasons - good and bad - that Harrison seems so keen on meeting with her.

A modest amount of time has passed by the time she's finally able to make an appearance in Harrison's doorway.

If Lily's office is the most decorated one in the compound, Harrison's is easily second. He's got actual office furniture, for one, which puts him a mark above pretty much all of the other assistant coaches, and being the head coach ensures he has far more tools and resources lying around.

The head coach has more than his usual amount of papers spread out across his desk, but he's paying attention to none of them. Rather, he's absorbed by a live model, magically demonstrating plays and acting out what certain moves will look like in a real game.

Lily notes, with a hint of surprise, that none of the players on his model are in Puddlemere colours.

She raps gently on the doorframe, and he looks up at the sound.

"Is now still a good time?"

He nods, flicking his wand at the model so that it disappears. "Yes. Have a seat."

She enters, sitting in one of the large blue chairs across from him. Her legs practically sing in relief at no longer having to hold her up, and she briefly entertains the idea of never leaving this seat. Harrison probably wouldn't enjoy that much, but her limbs, which feel more akin to jelly than actual useful body parts, would greatly appreciate it.

Harrison gets down to business immediately, folding his hands on the desk. "I'm going to share some information with you, but it must remain completely confidential. You cannot share this with any of the other coaching staff, nor any of the players. Understand?"

"Yes sir," she replies. She's in the habit of keeping secrets, and she's got more of them than she can possibly count - adding one more to the list is hardly an unwieldy request.

"I'm being tapped to join the coaching staff for the England National Team."

So that explains the differently-coloured players.

"Congratulations," she says. "That's an incredible honour."

He nods. "It is. However, it has its own complications. Namely, that the recruiting process is taking a large chunk of time out of what I'd normally be able to give to Puddlemere."

"Are you leaving?" she asks. For all that she may have some petty frustrations with the way Harrison talks about her sometimes, the fact remains that he very clearly respects her and respects her coaching in a way that she's not sure another head coach would.

He shakes his head. "No, I'm not going anywhere. Not yet, anyways."

She tries not to physically breathe a sigh of relief. "That's good."

"But because I will be somewhat limited in my capacity here, I need someone to step up into a bigger role in my absence. Worthington wants to bring in someone new, but I told him absolutely not. I don't want someone coming in and taking over a team that they don't know how to run. I've spent years making this program what it is, and an outsider isn't going to do it justice. I want you to do it."

Harrison has increasingly left her in charge of things over the past few months; she hadn't thought much of it at the time, even though in hindsight maybe she should have - most of the other assistants haven't been given anywhere near that amount of control.

Even still, it's a bit difficult to believe what he's offering her right now.

In her silence, he continues. "Because my connections with the National Team need to stay confidential at this point in the process, this won't be something you can discuss… with anyone. Worthington is, truthfully, not entirely keen on this proposal - I think in part because of your age - but I've reminded him that I know the coaching staff better than he does, and you are undoubtedly the best person suited to carry out what I've spent so long building here. It won't be public knowledge that you're taking on a greater leadership role, anyways."

In any life that wasn't her own, she'd find herself annoyed at this proposal - she's being asked to do more work and getting absolutely zero recognition for it. But in this life, a life where she has two separate realities that hinge on never intermingling, the greater anonymity she can retain, the better. Ultimately, being able to step into a more meaningful position without getting any of the additional attention she might otherwise receive for it is the best of both worlds for her, the most desirable outcome.

"So what do you say? Can I entrust you with this?"

She nods. "Absolutely."

Seventh Year, June 1978

"I can't believe we're doing this," Lily mutters.

"Oh, come on, Evans, where's your sense of adventure?" Sirius teases, slinging an arm around her shoulder. He does so with such force that Lily almost drops the bottle of wine in her hand.

"It's clearly right here, since I'm doing this with you lot," she replies. "It's my common sense that's gone missing."

They - eight Gryffindor seventh-years - are bound for the Astronomy Tower, not a single concealment charm or invisibility cloak in sight. Remus is watching the map, but there's still a level of boldness to this whole endeavor, particularly considering that they're all carrying alcohol so openly.

"If it's any consolation," James says, suddenly appearing at her other side, "my common sense went missing years ago."

"That is no consolation whatsoever."

Sirius throws his head back laughing at James' expense, and she turns to him - the smirk doesn't fall from her features. "You don't get to laugh at that, you're even worse off than he is."

"Remus is obviously the only one of us with sense," Peter chimes in. "He's the only reason we didn't get caught for half the pranks we pulled over the past seven years."

"And you did get caught on the other half because you didn't listen to me," Remus adds, not even looking up from the map to do so.

Sirius is still arguing with him by the time they all arrive at the Astronomy Tower, throwing out blankets over the cold stone floor and popping open bottles of wine and firewhisky. The outside air is somehow warm and cool all at once, that perfect mix created by a late evening at the beginning of summer, and Lily sheds the cardigan she'd been wearing on the way up here.

The eight of them start off in a circle, passing drinks back and forth, but the circle quickly fragments into something decidedly less organised. It's a good thing the Tower is pretty much soundproof to the lower floors, because Sirius' booming laugh and Marlene's yelling would undoubtedly get them caught otherwise. The volume problem only gets worse the more they drink - they're already a loud bunch naturally, but alcohol has a tendency to severely exacerbate the problem.

She notices, as she's pouring her second glass of wine into a plastic cup, that James is definitely closer to her now than he was when they first sat down. She's not sure which one of them is responsible for that.

"Can I try some of that?" he asks her, leaning in so close that she can practically feel his body heat. "Peter just ran off to the other side of the Tower with the last of the whisky."

She hands him the bottle. "Be warned - Sirius picked it out and it is truly the definition of a bottom-shelf red."

"It can't be that bad," James replies as he pours some into his own cup. He takes a sip and grimaces. "Or maybe it can be."

Lily laughs at that.

Then he licks his lips, catching a drop of wine with his tongue, and the laughter abruptly dies in her throat. She definitely shouldn't be so brazenly staring at him, but she's tipsy and he's… mesmerising.

He's grinning at her now, and she feels a flush creep up her cheeks. She doesn't know if he noticed her reaction - and if he did, how he feels about it.

But he's not moving away from her, at any rate.

"Well, when you've got your huge fancy Quidditch star salary, you can use it to force him to buy better alcohol," she finds herself saying. It breaks the moment, and Lily can't tell if she's relieved or disappointed by her own actions.

James is… she's not really sure what they are anymore, but she sometimes feels like 'friends' is no longer the right word for it. What passes between them is very different from her relationship with Mary or his with Remus - there's something more here.

It's in the way he'd reach out and take her hand while they were both studying for NEWTs these past few weeks, quieting her fears with a simple touch. The way he's become such a central figure in her life, working his way into it so fully that she can't find a part of her that he hasn't taken up. The way she's come to trust him more than anyone else, more than she'd ever thought herself capable of in the aftermath of Snape's betrayal in fifth year.

It's in the way he rests his head on her shoulder, looking up at her with doe eyes that really make her feel like maybe her feelings for him aren't unrequited.

"I'll be sure to put that on the top of the priority list."

A comfortable silence emerges between the two of them - a complete contrast to the chaotic shouting from the other side of the Tower, where Peter, Sirius, Marlene, and Dorcas are all engaged in some strange drinking game with Remus playing referee.

"Okay, this is cute, I'm photographing this," Mary announces, walking over to the two of them. They both turn to face her, James lifting his head off of her shoulder, the sudden absence of his warmth something Lily feels acutely.

"No!" Mary cries, a bit dramatically, waving them off. "Pretend I'm not here - that's why this shit is cute."

"We're not cute," Lily argues.

"On the contrary, Evans, I think we're adorable."

She doesn't have it in her to fight that - especially not when he wraps his arm around her waist and closes the last tiniest bit of space left between them. She leans into him automatically, this sort of closeness somehow feeling like the most natural thing in the world.

There's a click of a camera, and Lily knows Mary's gotten her shot.

She'll have to get a copy of that one from Mary - she's determined to fill the flat she gets as soon as she leaves school with as many pictures of her friends and her life as she can, and this moment with James definitely deserves a spot somewhere on the walls. One of their last moments at Hogwarts. The closing of a book she's never wanted to end.

Mary walks away, clearly content with her photography work, but James' arm doesn't move.

She doesn't want it to.

"Are you scared? Everything's going to change when we leave here." She's not sure why the words leave her mouth, holding all the potential to ruin this extremely happy and peaceful moment, but she can't take them back.

"I don't think everything will change," he replies, sounding so much more sure of himself than she is. "I mean, yeah, we won't be in classes anymore and we won't all be living in the same tower, but… I don't know. I don't think graduating is necessarily going to make it all so completely different."

"I hope you're right," she says. She wants to believe him, but she also knows that the real world is massively different from what they've got here. It's going to be a hell of a lot harder to all get together like this, what with everyone scattering across the country and pursuing new career paths.

Not to mention that Dumbledore's got plans for her that she's got to get started with just three days after they leave this castle. She'll have her own hands completely full as well.

"Of course I'm right," he replies, and she can feel his self-confident smirk without even needing to see his face.

"It's just - I'm going to miss nights like these. Normally I'd know to expect something like this as soon as we got back - I'd look forward to the first of September all summer long."

"Who says we can't do something on the first of September this year? There's nothing stopping you from looking forward to it now."

His words give her an idea. "I would say 'you're right' but I'm not going to let that go to your head right now," she tells him, before turning to look at everyone else in the group, who have migrated back towards this side of the Astronomy Tower. "I have important news. I'm throwing a party on the first of September," she announces, "and I fully expect every single one of you to show up."

"I dunno, Evans, I might have better plans by then," Sirius replies, taking a swig of wine. He notably doesn't wince at it, and she notes that either he has a far higher tolerance for shitty wine than she does or he somehow managed to get a good bottle and keep it all to himself. She really wouldn't be surprised by either.

She narrows her eyes at him. "If you stand me up, Black, I will never forgive you."

He lifts his hands in mock surrender. "Fine. I won't risk your wrath."

"Smart choice," she tells him.

And oddly, that one simple decision feels like everything. This isn't saying goodbye, this isn't the end of the story - it's starting a new one, with plenty of fresh pages just waiting to be filled.