See chapter one for disclaimers.

A/N: First off: This error-free chapter is courtesy of Lavinia Lavender, my brand-new beta reader, who is better at Briticising than I am, and is refreshingly honest with criticism! (Give her kudos; she makes me look like less of an idiot with homonym problems!)

I'd also like to send out some thanks to my reviewers...
Amscray: Don't forget music. Canonically speaking, nothing yet leads me to believe that there are any good wizarding musicians. Oh, and LS/SS forever. ;)
Zany Kaos: Mmm, thank you for the sugar quills:munches: And here is the chapter, as per request!
Aellyr: Regulus is LOVE! (...someone should make me a colour bar!)
Elfstorm: Thanks for your enthusiasm and input. To answer your question, no, I don't think :spoiler: is :spoiler:... if you'd like my theories on the subject, you should check out my LJ community, cliched1977. (And I have to disagree with you: libraries ARE dirty. I work at one. No matter how much you clean... there's always dust. All the paper, y'know.)
Taney: Fic-rec! YAAAAY! Thankyouthankyouthankyou! (Also, it is my firm belief that Lily/Sev works because... IT WILL BE CANON. Bwahahaha!)
Alaksandra: LiveJournal is kind of like a religion to me... I'm glad I inspired you back into the fold. ;) Thanks also for the recipe. It sounds delicious, and now I'm craving French vanilla ice cream!

Further notes: if you haven't read it already, I direct you to my newly-posted one-shot, The Language of Flowers. It's SS/LE and bittersweeeeeet. Also, it's more than a little metaphorical - okay, the whole thing is one big metaphore - but there's a key down at the bottom if it seems a little thick. (Be sure to read the author's notes at the bottom!)

This chapter is a little fluffy, but rest assured that it is comic relief and not the start of a trend. (And also - nothing against slash, but this fic will be purely het. Or, if there is any slash, it will be off-screen - no main characters will be having shenanigans with members of the same sex. Thank you and good night.)

Enjoy!

chapter fifteen

Oh, it was so good to simply enjoy the day with her friends! Eliza and Cordelia had put together a picnic lunch – with food stolen from the evening table – and had persuaded Lily to come out of the tower and onto the grounds. It was a beautiful evening, one of the few warm ones left in the season, and Lily knew better than to pass up the offer. And she desperately wanted a change of scenery to take her mind off of the morning's distressing events.

The girls sprawled on one of Cordelia's old quilts by the lake, munching sandwiches and biscuits and drinking pumpkin juice by the gallon. Cordelia amused the other two with imitations of her older cousins she'd stayed with during the summer, standing up to tell obviously exaggerated stories, and Lily and Eliza were soon in fits of laughter.

When the three had finally calmed down, and Cordelia had plopped back down onto the quilt, they resumed a semblance of sanity and the talk turned to Current Events. Cordelia, most predictably, brought up Quidditch, but Lily and Eliza booed her into silence, and then they took up the topic of Boys.

Lily was surprised to learn of the young fellow Eliza had met over the summer at her uncle's Devonshire novelty shop. Eliza (blushingly) told them of her encounter with Mr Martin Hoekema, a Muggle fellow who had come into the shop to purchase – what else – pulp fiction of the scientific persuasion. Eliza had been more than happy to help him, and though he didn't find what he was looking for, she discovered a mutual fan of Ray Bradbury and what she hoped would be a closer acquaintance in the future.

Cordelia had much to say on the topic of her cousins and their respective romantic liaisons, which were probably less of a secret than they'd appreciate. Lily, however, had no interesting on-topic tales to tell – or, in any case, any tales that she would divulge while not under the influence of Veritaserum. Cordelia was flabbergasted.

"Ye gods, Lil," she said candidly, "you mean to tell me that you just sat indoors all summer and read?"

Lily was very comfortable on the grass-cushioned quilt, and didn't waste energy in working up a sharp response. Instead, she merely shrugged and said, "I'm only fifteen, Cordelia. What do I need a boyfriend for?"

Cordelia's eyes went comically wide, and she stared at her redheaded friend. "You don't need a boyfriend for anything," she said, sounding scandalized. Her expression of shock, however, soon turned into a very self-satisfied smirk. "But they sure are fun."

Eliza smirked, and Lily rolled her eyes. "Cordelia, you're outrageous," said Eliza.

"I'm serious, Lily," said Cordelia after a moment's pause. "It'd be ridiculous for you to leave your fifth year without ever having a boyfriend."

"Not that ridiculous," Lily protested lazily. "Why should I be in such a rush to attach myself to a member of the opposite sex?"

"Because if you don't soon, the boys'll start to think you're a snob or worse," said Cordelia. "And besides, you'd look pretty dumb going to the Halloween Ball all by yourself."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Balls are stupid," she said. "All the upper years say so."

"Oh, they just say that to sound cool and disillusioned and stuff," said Cordelia in disgust, and then she grinned. "And because then they can skip out and snog in the rose bushes, and no one'll miss them."

"Rose bushes in October?" said Lily sceptically as Eliza laughed.

Cordelia hit Lily gently on the knee. "Rose bushes. Pumpkin patches. Same difference."

Lily sat up, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Does it really make a difference whether or not I go to the ball with a boy?"

Eliza snorted. "Of course it does," she said, and Lily looked at her in surprise. Eliza hastily clarified. "Not to me, of course. And not to Cordelia, either." She pretended to glare at her tomboy friend. "But to the rest of our year? Yeah, it will."

"What, do you think they'll make fun of me?"

"Yeah. Well, maybe not to your face. But they will behind your back."

"Stuff dies down," said Lily with an unconcerned shrug.

Cordelia gave a huffy sigh. "Don't you have any concern for your reputation?"

"Hey, if it doesn't bother me directly –"

"That's the point, Lil," Cordelia said emphatically. "It will. Maybe not right away, but in the long term –"

Lily laughed. "Jeez, Cordelia; nobody ever cares about secondary school after they've left!" she said. "And probably those who do will remember me for doing the clever thing and not, you know, like, getting pregnant before I'm out of my sixth year and then dropping out to work at the Leaky Cauldron serving drunks Firewhisky for the rest of my life."

Cordelia rolled back onto the grass, laughing her head off. "Oh, you're one of those people who think that going out with a boy could – let me guess – lead to dancing!"

Lily sighed. "Seriously – school's not the place for that kind of thing."

"Personally," said Eliza, "I think that if Lily doesn't mind the talk, she can go boyfriend-less until she's thirty."

"Yeah, well, it's not like she doesn't have admirers," Cordelia muttered, leaning over to fish a bottle of iced butterbeer out of the wicker basket they'd brought.

Lily grinned. "Oh yeah? Like who?"

Both girls answered at the same time. "James."

Lily made a face. "No way."

"Actually," said Eliza, "James is rather fond of you, Lily."

"Come on, now," said Lily, "you're burning my ears with that ridiculous stuff!"

Cordelia laughed. "He does, Lily," she said, and poked her friend in the side. "You should hear how he goes on about you sometimes. I mean, I'm a pretty close friend – 'cause I'm on the team and all, and in his year – but he really does fancy you."

Lily, at once both horrified and amused, covered her ears. "La la la, I can't hear you; you're both nutters and I'm not listening… La la la la…."

Cordelia tried to pull Lily's hands away from her head, ennunciating firmly, "James – fancies – you – you – bint –"

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU," Lily said loudly, and slapped Cordelia's hands away.

"Oh please," Cordelia said suddenly. "You can't have been totally ignorant about all this! I mean, come on, Lily; half the boys in our year – and a few in the upper years, too – have fancied you since you started taking your hair out of those dreadful pigtails and started wearing tighter clothes."

Lily began to giggle. "Oh god," she said, and flopped backwards into the grass – "It's official! You've done your nut! I can't believe you just said that!"

Eliza looked heavenward. "Denial," she intoned.

Cordelia gave Lily a playful shove. "You are hopeless, my friend," she said.

"Thank you very much – this, Eliza, coming from a nutter. Do take note; you can remember back on this instance when they finally cart her away to St. Mungo's, and then you'll say, 'Why didn't I ever listen to Lily? She was the only one who had her head screwed on straight!'"

When they had polished off the contents of their picnic basket, they packed up and trooped back up to the castle. Lily was grateful to hop in the bath and wash away the faint sheen of sweat that had been the result of the warmth of the sunny afternoon. The water was cool and scented with her favourite almond-flavoured soap, and in the sweet steam she mulled over a certain pressing issue.

Well, she'd had the feeling that James might have possibly fancied her, but now it seemed to be confirmed. Unless she could possibly attribute Cordelia's insisting to the usual teenage enthusiasm for intrigue of that sort – which was unlikely, seeing as that Eliza, not normally a fan of intrigue of any kind, had agreed with Cordelia – she would soon have something of a crisis on her hands.

Forget 'soon'; she had a crisis now. Gods and little fishes. James fancied her. Lily found herself simultaneously wincing and blushing at the thought. It wasn't that she didn't like James – she did, as a friend, but he was high-maintenance, high-strung, and not always the most pleasant person to be around. He grated on her nerves. He was intrusive and overbearing and noisy. He was as bad, if not worse than, Sirius.

She preferred Snape's company. (She back-pedalled quickly away from that line of thought.)

But James.

Blast and botherment.

Lily banged her fist on the rim of the claw-footed tub, and regretted it when her knuckle collided painfully with the sweating metal edge. She gritted her teeth against a few colourful words that sprang to mind, and tried to relax.

Didn't she read somewhere that if a boy liked to tease you, it meant he fancied you? If that was true – well, Lily knew it wasn't good at all. James not only harassed her repeatedly; he did it constantly. Especially this last week. He seemed to have developed a penchant for jinxes over the summer; perhaps he was just letting off excess steam, but he'd hexed her no less than four times over the last five days. In the hallways, in the common room – nothing really serious, just a Jelly-Legs or a Petrificus Partialus – but it was more than irritating, to say the least.

But did it really mean anything? James had always been a jokester, and not just to her, but to everyone, male and female alike. (Though she was certain that his female victims outweighed the males by a fair amount.) And she'd heard from other sources that she hadn't been the only one this week to end up on the unfortunate side of his wand; he'd jinxed a couple Ravenclaw girls as well as a Slytherin third-year who (apparently) had been trying to steal his bag via the Summoning spell. It was highly unlikely that James was harbouring some secret mad passion for a gawky little Slyth boy.

Lily didn't like to flatter herself, but even she had to admit that it wasn't half as unlikely that he'd been harbouring a secret mad passion for her. Which was what made her uneasy.

Too much to think about at the moment, Lily decided. The bathwater was getting chilly, and she had schoolwork to catch up on. She pulled the plug and got out of the tub.

"Oy, Snape, what's eating your head?"

"Your plebeian hyperboles, Rosier," Snape drawled, staring up at the forest-green canopy over his bed.

"Jesus Christ. What, did your owl die?"

"No, but yours will if you don't shut up," said Wilkes from across the room. "Leave the man alone, Rosier; can't you see he's trying to sort shit out?"

Snape cast an irritated glance toward his roommate. "Thank you, Wilkes," he said.

"Anytime," said Wilkes, not responding to (or, more likely, recognizing) the sarcasm in Snape's voice.

Snape continued to regard the shadows of his canopy with a distracted sort of scrutiny. The ancient embroidery, preserved over the years by some brilliant charmwork, seemed to flicker against the curve of his retinas. The twisting patchwork of embroidered forest played home to a thousand stitched creatures, more of which became visible to Severus every year. He was now searching out the Werewolf, which usually crouched in a fold near the top-left bedpost –

There.

The creature made itself visible to his eyes as it pursued the Hind, a graceful blackwork creation with slender legs and a terrified expression. Severus smiled. He had discovered that one in his second year, the night when the Bloody Baron had told him the tale of the Wolf and the Hind. The story was simply this:

A man fell in love with a woman, as men are wont to do. But the woman had another suitor, a wicked governor, who, when he discovered the other man's affections, assumed that the woman had been playing him a fool, and turned her into a hind, and the man into a wolf. The curse could only be broken when the wolf pursued and killed the hind. Of course, the story ended with the wolf slaying the hind, turning back into a man, and killing himself upon discovery of his actions.

Severus had always thought it was a stupid story. No one won: the woman was killed, the lover committed suicide, and the governor was left with nothing.

Now, however, the story rather appealed to him.

He really wasn't thinking about the story of the Wolf and the Hind. Though not the words Severus himself would have chosen, Wilke's assumption that he was 'sorting shit out' hit the nail on the head, in a crude, proletariat sort of way. He was thinking about earlier events of the day, though he was almost loath to do so. He wasn't used to being humbled. Though her slap had smarted, the blow hadn't stung half so much as the humbling had.

But even more noteworthy than the humbling to which she had subjected him was the instant in which she had turned her back on him. Of course, he had been furious at the time – she'd been ignoring him, for Merlin's sake – but as he lay here in bed, he realized that she hadn't been ignoring him, as he'd thought then, but instead she had been making a very important statement.

Did she realize what a show of faith in him she had made? She honestly hadn't believed that he would do it, that he would hex her while her back was turned. He wasn't sure whether he should be flattered or to take umbrage at her assumption, but entrenched far within him was the realization that she could have given him no higher tribute than that turning away. It proved that she didn't believe him to be like his peers; it only showed what trust she had in him. The thought both thrilled and terrified him.

He could almost forgive himself for making her cry.

"Go, go, go!"

A blue and tan blur hurtled past the box in which Lily and Eliza sat, and Lily broke into delighted laughter as James made a crazy pirouette in midair in order to avoid Sirius, whose Silver Arrow was as speedy as ever. Eliza tugged on Lily's sleeve, and she turned to see Cordelia make a dive for the Quaffle Remus had just thrown. "Look at her go!" Eliza cried, and leaned over the box to see the outcome of the dive. Cordelia just managed to snag the Quaffle before it hit the ground, and Eliza, laughing and cheering, flung herself into Lily's arms.

It was Sunday afternoon. Lily had accepted her friends' invitation to come out and watch the boys (and Cordelia) battle it to the death on the Quidditch pitch. It was all in good fun, and Lily was having a wonderful time. The September air was crisp, and everyone outdoors was wearing their jumpers like their own private team colours. James was dressed like a king – his crimson jumper was decorated with an abstract pattern of actual gold threads and finished off with blackwork around the collar and cuffs. Sirius wore a royal blue that made him look like an elfin prince; Lily's own silly heart had fluttered when he had greeted her, looking ever-so-strapping in his tan Quidditch cords and shields. Remus looked a little haggard in his dun-coloured, too-big secondhand clothes, but Lily, as a friend, thought he never looked better than he did that afternoon, with his cheeks flushed and his sleepy eyes smiling. Peter was there, too, looking cute in his yellow and black robes, and he was on top form on the field.

Eliza let go of Lily in order to leap up and yell at Remus, "Fly, boy! Go!"

Remus, distracted, got an earful of Quaffle. James nearly fell off his broom laughing.

So it went, and so it had gone for forty-five minutes already. The boys were sweating hard, and Cordelia was flushed red, but they were still in fine spirits. It wasn't until James started getting bored that they wound down the game. Eliza immediately rushed out of the box and down the steps in her hurry to get onto the field, but Lily took her time in gathering up her things.

Before she could escape to the stairwell, however, James flew up to the box and, smiling charmingly, offered her a ride down to the field.

"Um," she said eloquently.

"It'll be quicker than the stairs," said James, and gave her a wink.

Lily tightened her lips to suppress a nervous smile. "I really don't like flying," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Crazy girl," she heard James say. "Suit yourself."

Halfway down the steps, Lily made a face and said to herself, "Thank you, I will."

She met the others on the way out of the stadium.

"Hello there, beautiful," said a faintly perspiring Sirius, and slung a familiar arm around her shoulders. Lily giggled and couldn't help the blush that heated her face. "Oh, your hair smells divine."

"Sirius Black, you are an outrageous flirt," Cordelia put in from the other side of the group. She was dabbing at her shining face with a towel.

"A flirt? I am not a flirt. I'm being perfectly serious. Shut up," he added, before anyone could comment.

"You're far from perfect, but we love you anyway," said Remus from Lily's other side.

Sirius gave a bark-like laugh and suddenly dropped her in order to swing around and grab hold of Remus.

"Yeah, Moony, we love you too," he said, sounding sickeningly sweet, and Remus rolled his eyes, giving him a silly grin and a not-too-gentle shove.

"Now, Sirius, darling, you wouldn't want our grand secret to get out, would you?"

Sirius pretended to pout as James and Peter made identically disgusted faces.

"Little too much comradely spirit for moi," Eliza said dryly.

"You should see them when they're alone," Peter said suddenly, to a brief silence, followed momentarily by roars of laughter.

Sirius was actually doubled up, he was laughing so hard; and as Lily watched, he fell over and rolled onto his back.

"God, will you put a sock in it?" said James in mock-disgust, and pretended to aim a kick at his best friend. "Good one, Peter," he added, and Peter grinned widely.

"Wormy, whatever are we going to do with you?" Sirius gasped as he managed to sit up, clutching his side.

"You could let me take pictures," said Peter, and Sirius groaned and flopped backward again.

"Stop it, Peter," Remus protested mildly. "You're going to ruin my good-girl reputation."

"Too late for that, old friend," Peter intoned gravely. "Everybody knows."

"Merlin's knickers," James chortled – "Cut it out, Peter!"

"You're just jealous they didn't invite you," Peter said instantly, and by now Lily was crying, she was laughing so hard.

"That's it," said Cordelia, attempting to regain a semblance of calm, "Peter, you are SO invited to my birthday party."

Peter blushed, but only a little bit. "Oh, if only everyone were so generous! But you know, no girl wants to go out with a fellow two feet shorter than she is, no matter if he's got talent." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and now the boys groaned, waving hands at him as if to ward him off. Sirius, who had finally pulled himself together and managed to sit up, held his nose and made a gesture suggestive of banishing a foul odour.

"I'll have you know, I resent these defamations of my character, Wormy," said Sirius once he'd finished, but his head was nearly splitting, his grin was so wide. "Just for the record, I'm a flaming heterosexual."

"Good boy," said Remus idly, and patted Sirius' shaggy black head.

The boys really got a kick out of that one.

"Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week," Remus said, bowing. James and Peter mimicked throwing flowers.

"I need a drink," Lily croaked, voice hoarse from laughing, and wiping her tearing eyes.

"I thought you didn't?" said Sirius, and Lily didn't dignify that with a response.

"Let's sneak into the kitchens," said James. "I'm hungry, and dinner's not for an hour."

Lily was sobered now. "Is that all right?"

"What, sneaking into the kitchens?" said Sirius, distracted as he tugged free the grass that had gotten caught in his long black hair.

When Lily nodded, James gave a loud snort. "Well, it's not like we're going to be stealing a ton," he said. "Just enough to hold us over until dinner. And the house elves are great – they'll summon you dragon drumsticks if you mention you've had a hankering for them."

"C'mon, let's go," Sirius whined, bouncing on the balls of his feet and tugging at James' arm like a little boy.

"Ew, get away from me, you queer," James cried, and Sirius chased him all the way back up to the castle.

Lily had never been in the school kitchens before, and she felt like tiptoeing as she followed the very noisy group of boys through the hole behind the still-life; but as she watched James and Sirius clatter back and forth carelessly, she began to grow easy.

What James had said about the house elves was right: they were more than eager to please. Lily only had to mention that she was thirsty before they had presented her with an entire tray of mugs and glasses containing everything – coffee, tea, milk (whole, half, and two per cent), pumpkin juice, apple cider, lamb's wool (though it was really too early for that), hot chocolate (ditto), some wizarding version of pop – the list went on. Lily selected a glass of orange juice and sat down to watch the boys try to figure out what they wanted to eat.

Half an hour later, they departed. The boys were stuffed to the gills, yet still concealed bits of food about their persons, "for later," as Sirius said – and the girls were quite content to laugh as the boys insisted in cruder and cruder terms how extremely full they were, which seemed to please the house elves to no end; they kept offering to run off for heartburn tonics and milk of magnesia.

Lily was glad to go, though; she had a headache, and her joints were aching. She was glad to finally get up to Gryffindor and crash in her bed; she fell asleep and didn't wake up until the next morning.

Well, she had no doubt that James was flirting with her. It was plainly visible; even Lily couldn't deny it. But it didn't necessarily mean anything. He flirted just as much with Eliza and Cordelia, and yet they weren't accusing each other of being the object of James Potter's attention as they were her. It was the same with Sirius: he would sweet-talk anything in a skirt, but it was only a casual manner he assumed. Lily had always known that; it was why his outrageously flirtatious behaviour had never given her any real cause to worry. And when she wasn't put out with him – which was rare – she could actually enjoy his flirting, because it gave her a confidence that she usually didn't possess.

But what was the difference in James' attention? Now that she was consciously aware of it, she couldn't put her finger on what it was that made her stiffen up when he winked at her. She wasn't really attracted to James; though he had been the subject of a passionate crush in first year, those feelings soon faded when she became used to him and discovered how obnoxious and self-centred he could be. The same was true of Sirius. But again, why didn't Sirius unnerve her as James did?

These were the questions she wanted answers to, so, the next week, Lily commenced a study of James' behaviour around and toward her. It wasn't as difficult (or as terrible) as she had expected it to be. James tended to follow her around like a second shadow. And when she began keeping a sharper eye on him, she discovered several things.

The first thing was that he seemed to follow her around. Oh, this wasn't really news: he'd always been underfoot before, and it had irritated her to no end. But now that she was watching for odd behaviour, she noticed that he deliberately went out of his way to bump into her. On Tuesday, she discovered him loitering outside her Arithmancy class, and he walked her back up to Gryffindor even though, in the end, it made him late for his game with the boys.

A more unsettling discovery was that she found herself reciprocating when he flirted with her. She was, frankly, disgusted with herself. James was not the type of boy she would ever attach herself to. He was rude and self-centred. All right – he meant well, but that just didn't cut it. If he wasn't trying to charm her pants off, he was ignoring her. Lily couldn't decide which behaviour was worse.

So why was she flirting back? Though the idea appalled her, she figured it was probably because he was – you know – dashing. Lily had always been partial to the tall, dark and handsome type. James was tall. He was taller than any other boy in their year, easily clearing six feet. He was dark – his hair was naturally a dusky blue-black, and he tanned like an Indian. Needless to say he was handsome. Quidditch practice had made him 'well fit', as Cordelia would've put it. And hadn't Lily known better, she might've said that his wire-rimmed glasses gave him a studious look, too.

She knew better. James was far from studious. Yes, he was brilliant, but he did not conform to the educational norm. He got the lowest scores in Charms, though she knew very well that he was more than adept at them. The only subject at which he truly excelled grade-wise was Transfiguration, but only because he truly loved that particular art.

The question remained: why was she flirting back?

If she was honest with herself – and that had always been her main goal – she would say that it was the attraction of a popular boy's attention, rather than the boy himself, that peaked her interest. Never mind the popular part – she could care less for that. But the fact that a boy was really interested in her was supremely satisfying.

That didn't answer her question, though. According to Cordelia, there were plenty of boys interested in her at the moment. So she was right back where she started from: why flirt back at James, rather than pursue someone who wouldn't be chasing after every pair of shapely legs in the vicinity?

Truly, it was a frustrating enigma. It seemed the more she thought about it, the less sure she was of her own numerous answers to the problem. By the end of the week, she was so confused she almost couldn't remember what side she was on – was she trying to push James away, or was she supposed to be accepting his favours? It frustrated her to no end that she couldn't get a grasp on her own feelings.

Saturday evening came swiftly, and Lily found herself dreading the evening that lay before her. After dinner, she headed up to the designated study-room, brushing off James' invitation to come race with them on the field. She managed to get up to the classroom, though she was so distracted by thoughts of James that twice she forgot entirely where she was going. When she finally arrived at the dimly-lit classroom, Snape was already there waiting for her. It was dark out, and the floor-to-ceiling windows, backed by the black night and lit by the blobby wax candles, reflected them like mirrors.

"What delayed you?" said Snape, and Lily was relieved; he didn't sound as if he was in distemper.

"Oh – I was – a little distracted. Got lost."

Snape clearly didn't believe her, but he didn't remark on her excuse. "Do you have your wand?" he said instead.

Lily almost replied sarcastically, but figured that would only be adding fuel to the fire, and replied by pulling her wand from her belt.

"All right," said Snape, withdrawing his own. "First of all, we'll start with the basics. Etiquette, stance, et cetera. You stand here." He pointed to a spot about a metre before him.

Lily was aware that wizard duels were required to conform to a strict set of etiquette rules – a hangover from the Dark Ages, when duelling over slights had become quite popular. She had never researched into it, but evidently Snape had.

"Now, usually," he said, "women aren't expected to duel. Their fathers or brothers or lovers were in charge of defending a woman's honour. Of course, this is the twentieth century, and things have changed. The basic protocol for duelling has not, though, which is why – for a formal duel, at least – both men and women are required to bow – and the deeper the bow, the more honour you do to your opponent. Flourishes are strictly unnecessary, unless you are performing for an audience."

Lily, unsure, gave a brief, shallow bow, keeping her eyes on Snape's as she tried not to wobble. He smirked.

"That's right. Exactly." He returned the bow, and then walked across the room to join her. "Now: stance. You're right-handed, so you stand like so." He stepped up beside her and pivoted on his booted left foot so his right shoulder was facing forward. "You extend your arm, like so – are you following along?"

He glanced behind him and she imitated his stance, feeling rather silly. "Good. Now, extend your wand arm – " He dropped his stance and turned to correct her. He didn't touch her, but his hands fluttered near her elbow and she straightened her arm accordingly. "And your hand should turn like this," he added. "Your knuckles do not point upward. Rather, your thumb should be parallel with the floor, and your fingers should curl under – right. Like that."

He took a step back, and she relaxed her pose. "All right. Now, I'm going to step back here, and we shall bow, and then you shall cast an expelliarmus. All right?"

"Okay," said Lily, though she didn't feel very okay about it.

Snape returned to the southern side of the room, and, raising an eyebrow, bowed. She returned the formality, and then, conscious of her stance, she extended her arm to cast the Blocking Spell.

An unexpected Jelly-Legs Jinx hit her, and she went over backwards with a startled yelp.

Snape came over to her and stood above her, frowning a bit. "Reflexes," he said. "You have to be expecting the offensive, and either hit them before they hit you, or put up a blocking spell fast."

"But I wasn't expecting it," she cried, wriggling ineffectually. She was strongly reminded of an old dancing teacher who had repeatedly yelled 'Noodle-legs! Noodle-legs!' at her when she tried to arch into a backbend and inevitably ended up flat on her back on the padded red floor. "You berk, I told you not to surprise me like that! You promised!"

Snape sighed, cast the countercurse, and extended a hand to help her up, but she ignored it and shimmied out from under him. "Evans," he said as she brushed herself off, "your attacker is not going to give you fair warning before he hexes you to death. I told you, you need to work on those reflexes. Expect an attack. And really, I would've thought my intentions were quite clear – after all, I was pointing a wand straight at you, and I did tell you to put up a blockade."

Lily sighed and rubbed the back of her head. "That was a strong jinx," she muttered. "I'm going to have to work on my blocking spell if I want to deflect that."

"Then let's do that," he said, and she was surprised that he'd agreed. He was being a lot more giving than she thought he'd be. "One of the most important spells in your arsenal will be the Disarming Spell. Of course, it doesn't do much good for bigger curses, but it'll easily deflect minor jinxes and curses. I'll stand here, and you practice from over there."

Lily took a few steps back, adjusted to duelling stance, took a breath, and cast.

It missed him entirely, hitting instead the wall beside him, knocking a puff of dust into the air. Lily made a disappointed sound.

"But first," said Snape, "we're going to work on your aim."

Two hours later, Lily had mastered a stronger Disarming spell, as well as a few minor jinxes and hexes. Her aim wasn't much better, but she'd managed to hit Snape a few times, as well as block a third of his hexes. She was rather exhausted when they concluded the lesson, but managed to thank him and bid him good night before leaving.

Prefect meetings usually took place on the last day of the month, but Remus was in the infirmary with a nasty and sudden bout of the flu, so the monthly meeting was postponed until the fifth of October. It was exceedingly boring; the Head Boy and Girl, McLuhan and Andrews, mainly wanted to discuss the Halloween Ball, which was to occur in exactly one month, to be followed immediately by the formation of Quidditch teams for the upcoming season, which began, as usual, on the first of November. Of course, the prefects were all expected to help in preparation. Lily was none too thrilled, and could very well predict what Snape's opinion on the subject would be. Bellatrix Black, though – Lily was still perplexed at how she had managed to get the prefect position; the girl was certifiable – she was quite enthusiastic, and had a thousand ideas for decorations and music and even menu, though the house elves always took care of that.

Overall, the meeting was dull, but not horrific. Lily couldn't really care less about the Halloween Ball and whether they hired Wands Up or the popular classical octet Gregarious Flynn for the music, so she didn't fuss when decisions about it were prepared to take to the Headmaster, who was the final authority on such matters.

Bellatrix was put in charge of decorating, and the sly girl ever-so-politely asked Lily and the other girls if they minded pitching in. She was cloyingly sweet in her proposition, and even if she hadn't been a prefect, Lily would've had a hard time refusing; she was surprised, however, when Remus offered to help as well, though she was quite glad that she'd have someone familiar there with whom she could talk and complain.

That evening, Remus indulged her in a game of chess in the common room, and they discussed the outcome of the meeting.

"Do you know her at all?" said Lily, directing her knight out of the path of Remus' bishop.

"Who, Bellatrix?"

"Yeah."

"Not really." Remus moved his bishop again, putting Lily's remaining rook at stake. "I only know what Sirius says, and he's kind of biased."

Lily chuckled.

"What about you?" he asked as she dodged the bishop and captured a pawn.

"Eh, I don't know her too well, either. But she's kind of crazy."

"That's what Sirius says."

"I think she's a psychopath, actually," said Lily, frowning as Remus' bishop captured one of her knights.

"How do you figure?"

"Oh – well, she seems to have a total disregard for common niceties. I mean, she was being nice in there, but she was faking it. You saw that, didn't you?"

"I confess I did," said Remus, who was even more inclined to see the good in people than Lily was.

"I've had some association with her in the past," said Lily. "She was on my charms team a couple years ago, but she dropped out because she got bored. She's pretty brilliant, actually. But her field's Defence Against the Dark Arts." She finally made up her mind and directed her queen to capture that pesky bishop.

"That makes sense."

At that moment, the portrait hole opened up and James and Sirius trooped in, brooms over their shoulders, sweating and red-faced.

"Looks like they're back from practice," said Lily.

Remus looked up, distracted for a moment. "Oh. Yes. They're getting ready for Quidditch season."

"I wondered why they seemed scarce lately," said Lily. James caught her eye at that moment and, breaking into a grin, sauntered over.

"Hullo there, Lil."

"Potter," she acknowledged, a tad uncomfortably.

"Aw, whatsa' matter, Lily? Not happy to see me?"

"Not when she's trying to defend herself from the Black Onslaught," said Remus, gesturing at the chessboard, where Remus' queen moved forward to intercept Lily's.

"Are you taking my name in vain, Remus ol' pal?"

Sirius loomed suddenly behind Remus' chair, sounding cool and relaxed despite his sweaty, bedraggled look, and Lily, pretending to be distraught over the death of her queen, said, "Go take your shower."

Sirius straightened his spine and clicked his heels together. "Yes, sir!" he saluted her, and goose-stepped off to the bathrooms.

"See you later then, Lil," said James, giving her a wink before sauntering off after Sirius.

Lily looked up at Remus, blushing slightly. Remus looked a little embarrassed himself.

"I'm sorry," said Lily after a moment, "but I've rather lost my taste for chess at the moment."

Remus smiled. "That makes two of us." He Banished away the chess set and they both stood up.

"I don't know about you, but I'm going for a walk," said Lily.

"It's rather late, isn't it?"

Lily shrugged. "We're prefects, aren't we?"

The corners of Remus' Grecian mouth tilted upward. "Too true," he said, and Summoned a cloak from his dormitory. They set off for the darkening corridors of the school, a pleasure walk under the guise of official duty. Lily hoped they wouldn't actually have to exercise that power.

Some distance from Gryffindor tower, Remus finally took it upon himself to break the silence. "So," he said, "it would seem that not all is well between… James and Sirius and us."

Lily gave a soft, nervous laugh. "You too, eh? Well. I'm glad I wasn't the only one to notice it."

"I have my own issues with them," Remus confessed. "But what about you? Would you like to share?"

Lily glanced up at him. In the twilight corridors, he looked otherworldly – the wandlight washed the shadows from his face; his dark eyes were large and luminous and concerned. She abruptly was aware of his presence in a way she hadn't been before. He was no weakling, she knew, though how she knew she wasn't sure. Perhaps it was the calm presence of mind he consistently kept, but she knew that inside those many layers of shabby robes was a strength she'd never expected, and suddenly half-dreaded.

"It's nothing drastic," she said after a moment. "I mean, I love them both dearly. But, oh, they can grate on one's nerves!" Even as she said it, she regretted that she was unable to tell him the whole truth.

Remus laughed. "I know exactly what you mean. I –"

"Mr Lupin! And Miss Evans!"

They jumped at the sound of the voice and turned to face the headmaster, who was standing there in the middle of the corridor, his sparkling blue eyes hardly obscured by his half-moon glasses. His beard, long enough to be tucked into his belt, shone silver in their wandlight.

"Professor Dumbledore," Lily said, surprised. "Good evening."

"Good evening, children. May I ask why you're out so late?"

"Prefect duties," Remus said immediately.

"Ah." The wizened wizard smiled. "I admire your dedication. But it is a calm night – surely you may return to your beds. I will send for you if there is need."

Lily and Remus thanked Dumbledore, and turned around and headed back to Gryffindor, both rather uncomfortable.

"That was awkward," said Lily at last, and Remus gave a panicky laugh.

"No kidding. I about froze there."

"Me, too. Funny thing, because ostensibly we weren't doing anything wrong. I mean, we're both prefects."

Shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his robes, Remus agreed with her. "I know. But Professor Dumbledore always…."

"Seems to know?"

"Exactly. Doesn't matter if you have a rock-solid excuse… he can see right through it."

"It's almost scary," said Lily. "He's like a mind-reader or something."

"Mm. He's been very good to me."

"He's been good to all of us," said Lily.

Remus faltered in his stride, and Lily stopped with him. He gazed out the nearby window at the waning moon, and for the second time in the hour she saw the effects light had on his face…but the glimmer of milky moonlight had an effect quite the reverse of the wandlight: rather than stripping his face of shadows, turning him into a powerful, self-assured young man, it seemed only to accentuate the few premature crags in his face, the pale streak in his hair, the lines around his eyes. It even went so far as to stoop his shoulders, and now he appeared lined and aged, frail and sickly, rather than the healthy young man she knew him to be.

"Remus," she whispered, her soft voice shaking with fear, but his eyes were for the moon only.

"Remus," she said again, and this time touched his right arm so he jumped.

He didn't pull away (as Snape would've), but rather relaxed beneath her hand, even placing his own above her hers and patting it. He smiled, and he was young again, and she returned his smile with palpable relief.

Before even she knew what she was doing, Lily had slipped her free arm through the crook of his and smiled up at him as fully and purely as the moon would in twenty-six days.