disclaimer: any characters or etc. herein you recognize belong to J.K Rowling. I'm simply borrowing.

Chapter Fourteen

Lily was frozen.

Or close to it, at least.

Her nose was so numb she kept crossing her eyes just to check and make sure it was actually still there. (It was.)

Ten minutes. Just ten more minutes.

She longed to duck inside one the little shops, if only just for a moment, to warm up, but she couldn't abandon her watch. Not even for frostbite. And anyways, every time she glanced at a shop, she could see they were so chock-full of people, she'd be swallowed up in the crowd instantly, and probably wouldn't make it back out until the bells summoning Hogwarts students back to the castle rung, and everyone made for the door.

No. She would just have to stick it out.

If there was one thing to be grateful for, she supposed, it was that at least James had agreed to split up for patrolling. If he hadn't, she truly would have been suffering. The events from two days ago were still fresh in her mind.

Insufferable git, she cursed moodily.

Was she doomed to spend the rest of the school year batting him away? She feared yes. But short of accepting his bribe (and all that would come with it), she saw no way of shutting him up.

Perhaps she could fake her own death.

The thought brought grim amusement. She'd have to do it in a way that James would know he was at fault for though.

Although, the only remorse he'd probably feel in the wake of her death was for his forfeited broomstick.

Arsehole.

Lily's dark thoughts kept her company until the set of fifth year Prefects scheduled to take over her watch arrived.

"Blimey, that's a bad look. We're only a minute late." Alexander Bishop said sounding uncertain.

"It's not you," Lily assured, features softening. "Although, it may have been, if you'd been another minute late."

"Peace offering?" offered Marnie Pennington, volunteering her bottle of butterbeer.

Lily waved her off, "Keep it. You're going to need it. I'll get my own."

And excusing herself, she headed for the Three Broomsticks to do exactly that.

xxx

Steaming tankard in hand, Lily navigated around the crowded pub tables searching for an empty chair. She located one at a table of Ravenclaws, who were so immersed in their raucous debate, they didn't even notice when she sat down.

At her first sip of butterbeer, Lily felt her insides begin to defrost. Perhaps she would yet regain the feeling in her nose.

Halfway through her drink, the Ravenclaws agreed to disagree and disbanded, leaving Lily alone at the table, feeling as relaxed as if she was soaking in a warm bath instead of sitting in a hard chair in a noisy, bustling pub.

"There you are!"

And then just like that, the illusion was shattered, and in its place stood James Potter.

Refusing to deign his sudden appearance at her side with a reaction, Lily nonchalantly took another sip of her butterbeer.

"Mum, Dad! Over here! I've found her!"

- and promptly sloshed the remaining contents of the tankard down her front.

She barely had time to process what she'd just done, much less what was happening, when a figure popped up beside James.

"Merlin, it's crowded. I haven't been here in ages, I'd forgotten what it - oh!" The witch exclaimed suddenly, her eyes landing on Lily's soaked robes. "Butterbeer? I'll have Charlie get you another one." As quickly as she had appeared, she was gone.

Lily blinked at the now empty spot.

"As first impressions go, I'd say that was rather poor," James said, pulling out the chair beside hers and proceeding to sit.

"What. The. Bloody. Hell. Is. Going. On here?" Lily demanded with frightening calm, turning to him.

"My mother has gone to get you another drink," he replied feigning ignorance. "As you've managed to make a mess of the first -"

"I meant," she cut across tightly, "what is your mother doing here?"

James seemed to brace himself before answering.

"My parents have come to meet you."

"Why?" she asked sharply.

"It's what you wanted."

"What I-?!"

"You said," James interjected loudly, "you wouldn't accept help from people you'd never met and who'd never met you."

"That wasn't a request to meet them! And I certainly," she added with snap, "never said anything about ambushing me."

"How else was I going to make sure it happened?" he defended, sounding impatient. "You never would have agreed to it."

"Well we'll never know will we?" she shot back snidely.

"Don't play coy, Evans. And tidy yourself up," he added with a glance at her robes. "They'll be here in a minute and I expect you'll want to make a better second impression." He turned away from her as though ending the conversation.

Lily pushed her chair back so roughly, the wooden legs made a hair raising screech as they scraped against the floor.

"Not yet."

James caught hold of her elbow as she hopped off the chair.

"Let me-!"

"My parents were nice enough to come all the way up here to meet you, so you'll be nice enough to stay," he instructed calmly. "You can storm off after they leave."

A bark of laughter escaped Lily.

"I'm not that nice," she said wrenching her arm out of his grip.

James sighed.

"Don't make me put a full body bind on you," he said, having the nerve to sound contrite about it. "That's just going to make this whole thing awkward."

"You-!" Lily started but a voice cut her off.

"Here we are!" trilled Mrs. Potter, returning in tow with a man laden with a tray of drinks, who Lily presumed to be Mr. Potter.

Mrs. Potter's bright smile dimmed as she quickly took in the scene, and obvious tension between Lily and James. Her eyes fell on the wand James held aloft.

"Everything alright here?" she asked glancing between her son and Lily.

"Yes." lied James smoothly, at once. "Lily was just needing some assistance tidying up. Tergeo. " With a swish of his wand, Lily's butterbeer doused robes were cleaned and dried. "Good as new," James proclaimed, lowering his wand. But he did not re-pocket it. "Is that mine?" he asked, reaching for a large pint on the tray but his mother slapped his hand away.

"Lady's first," she scolded good-naturedly. She offered a tankard to Lily. "Here you go, dear, a nice hot butterbeer."

Lily accepted it with a flat thanks.

"Try not to fumble it this time," James added lightly.

Lily shot him a dirty look. The rest of the drinks were quickly served and then a silence fell.

"Won't you sit down?" Mrs. Potter prompted Lily kindly. As Mr. and Mrs. Potter watched her expectantly, behind their back James casually twirled his wand.

Casting him another dark look, Lily grudgingly retook her seat.

"Now then..." Mrs. Potter trailed off, looking around the quiet table. "How about some formal introductions?" she suggested, giving her son a pointed look.

"Right." James cleared his throat. "Mum, Lily. Lily, Dorea. Dad, Lily. Lily, Charlus. Lily, James. James, Lily. Mum, James. James, Mum. Dad, James. James, Dad. Cheers!" He tipped his glass at the table and then took a long gulp. Lily felt a pang of envy, wishing she had something a bit stronger to drink too.

"Nice to meet you, Lily," said Mr. Potter warmly, reaching across the table to shake her hand. "And...James? Was it?" he asked, turning to his son.

"James Potter, sir," nodded James with mocked gravity, shaking his father's hand. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Indeed," agreed Mr. Potter, solemnly.

Mrs. Potter rolled her eyes at her son and husband's antics, but the effect was dimmed some by the smile she wore. She glanced over at Lily as though expecting to share that smile, but Lily wasn't nearly as charmed.

"Yes, well, it's lovely to meet you both," she said flatly to Mr. and Mrs. Potter, "but it's come as a bit of a shock, honestly, as James never told me we'd meeting today - or ever really- so-"

"I reckoned it'd be a nice surprise," James inserted, a note of irony in his voice.

"Well you were half right," she shot back at him. "So," she said again, turning back to Mr. and Mrs. Potter as though there was no interruption, "while I do appreciate you coming all the way up here to meet me, I'm sure you'd much rather spend this time catching up with your son." Lily stood, prepared to bid her farewells and run for the door.

"Nonsense." protested Mrs. Potter.

"Yes," agreed , "Why would we want to do that?"

"We came here to see you."

"Frankly I'm afraid, that's a waste of your time," Lily said bluntly, pushing in her chair. "So if you'll excuse -"

"Us," interjected James, standing suddenly. "We'll be right back." He seized hold of Lily's hand and tugged her away from the table.

Being dragged none to gently through the bustling pub, Lily was too busy dodging chairs and trying to keep from tripping to break free, or notice where she was being lead. It wasn't until a cold breeze slapped her in the face that she realized James had pulled her outside. She had only a moment to register this before James rounded on her.

"You have two options." He said, looking coolly down at her. "You can come back inside, apologize to my parents for your rude behavior and conduct yourself civilly for the rest of this meeting, or, if you can't manage that, you can come back inside, apologize to my parents and then leave."

"Or," Lily glowered up at him. "I can just leave."

"That is an not an available option."

"I'm making it one."

She demonstrated by taking a few steps backward, tauntingly. A flash of anger crossed James's face and Lily felt a stab of satisfaction at that.

"You owe my parents an apology," he started, taking a step after her.

"Actually, I reckon they owe me one since it's their fault I have to deal with you," she interrupted.

James glared at her and Lily smirked back smugly at him. It was like holding a match to a flame - James fired up at once, and Lily, not one to back down from a fight (especially with him), responded readily. Their shouting voices combined, overlapped, grew louder in an effort to be heard over the other, until a serene voice broke in.

"My goodness... That language is better suited for a Quidditch Pitch, wouldn't you say?"

Mrs. Potter stood off to the sidelines. Lily wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there, or how much she'd overheard, but she didn't appear fazed by the bickering match she'd just interrupted.

"James," Mrs. Potter said turning to her son, "Why don't you go back inside. I'd like to a have a chat with Lily."

James immediately began to protest but his mother cut him off with a simple, but firm, "James". Clamping his mouth shut and looking surly, James shot Lily a warning glare before heeding his mother's order.

Her son now gone, Mrs. Potter turned to Lily, who drew herself up, bracing herself, but Mrs. Potter did not speak. She just observed Lily, politely. Unsure what she was playing at, but unwilling to let it bother her, Lily raised her chin defiantly and let her stare. Inexplicably, the corners of Mrs. Potter's mouth turned up in a peculiar little smile that made Lily shift unconsciously.

"You don't want to be here." Mrs. Potter said finally.

Lily bit out a bitter laugh.

"Was it that obvious?"

"You're not very subtle, dear," said Mrs. Potter, still with that same, odd little smile.

"No." Lily agreed readily.

The truth in those statements struck her a moment later, and she felt an unexpected prickle of shame. No, she had not been very subtle at all. And if she hadn't made her displeasure at this situation already known several minutes ago inside the pub, she'd certainly left no doubts moments ago as she'd been hurling insults and obscenities at James.

She felt another grudging prick of embarrassment wondering just how much Mrs. Potter had heard.

Although, she reminded herself, James had been doing his own fair amount of shouting and name calling at the time too. And he had created this whole mess in the first place, so really, he'd had it coming to him...but Mr. and Mrs. Potter...

Besides, as she'd already pointed out, creating James and therefore all her problems, probably, now that she thought back to it, had not deserved the rude behavior she'd bestowed upon them.

So, perhaps, he had been right about one thing after all.

"I'm sorry," Lily apologized sincerely meeting Mrs. Potter's steady gaze. "For being rude to you and Mr. Potter. You traveled here to meet me and instead of truly appreciating that, I took out my anger at James on you both." Averting her eyes, Lily crossed her arms, hesitating. She didn't want to make excuses for her attitude but she also felt the need to explain: "James took it upon himself to arrange this meeting. For reasons I've repeatedly told him I have no interest in." She tried to keep her tone flat and reserved but a bit of bitterness slipped through at the end, "He refuses to listen."

"That's our fault I'm afraid."

Lily looked up. Mrs Potter had a chagrin twist to her mouth now.

"We spoiled him," she said matter-of-factly, without remorse. "He's our only child, and a bit of a miracle one at that. He isn't used to hearing no. And, he's a stubborn boy. Especially when he fells strongly about something," she added with a pointed look at Lily.

"What is it he told you about me?" Lily asked curiously. "Why are you here?"

Mrs. Potter clasped her hands in front of her.

"Because," she said, "my son wrote of an exceptionally bright witch he knew, who aspires to be an Auror. Who, despite all her determination, is at risk of having those hopes dashed, and could use some help."

"Well," Lily sniffed. "Only two of things are true. And my hopes aren't at risk. But even if they were, I'm" she chose her words carefully "disinclined to accept your help."

"And why is that?" Mrs. Potter asked, without offense.

"I don't want to be in your debt," Lily answered honestly.

"I assure you, you wouldn't be," Mrs. Potter said graciously.

Lily grappled to find a way to counter this statement without reverting to her earlier rudeness. Mrs. Potter regarded her obvious struggle with amusement.

"You have been a top student, not just in your house, but your year, since your very first first year at Hogwarts," she said abruptly, putting an end to Lily's struggles, "You excel in every lesson, and your Professors speak very highly of you. Despite your natural ease for learning, you are a dedicated student. You were chosen as a Prefect in your fifth and sixth years, and now you're Head Girl. In the past few minutes alone you've displayed boldness, unyielding spirit, and integrity. There is no doubt in my mind that you have the potential to make for a great Auror."

Stunned, not just by the flood of information Mrs. Potter had rattled off, but mostly by her earnest admission, Lily was momentarily at a loss of words. All things aside, Mrs. Potter was a highly distinguished Auror and Lily respected that, and her, so to hear someone of her caliber say something like that was...

"Thank you," she finally managed to choke out.

"So why," asked Mrs. Potter, titling her head to side, and speaking as if she'd hadn't just rendered Lily briefly speechless, "are you allowing pride to stand in the way of that?"

Lily blinked at her, taken aback.

"If you have no doubt, why would I need your help?" she asked, bristling.

"Because you are not only a witch, but a Muggleborn one at that," said Mrs. Potter gently.

"And that trumps everything else?" demanded Lily.

"It ... diminishes it," Mrs. Potter said with an apologetic grimace.

"Considering we're in a war, I would imagine the Ministry to be more concerned with hiring the best people to aide in the fight, rather than with blood lineage and gender," Lily said tartly.

"Sad, isn't it? It makes sense in a way though," said reluctantly, "that in the midst of war, people would hold more firmly to their beliefs and traditional ideologies. No matter how flawed or hindering they may be," she added.

Lily stayed quiet, nettled by this return of topic.

"Are you aware of the hiring process for Aurors?" Mrs. Potter asked, abruptly changing subject.

"There's a series of tests," Lily answered promptly. "The specifics aren't well known publicly, but they're set up for us to demonstrate a number of skills, mental and physical."

"What happens before the tests?" pressed Mrs. Potter.

"I ... suspect an interview of sorts would take place," said Lily slowly. In truth, she hadn't really thought about it before.

"And before that?"

Lily frowned. Where was she going with this?

"You must be selected," said Mrs. Potter, answering her own question. "Before anything else, you must be chosen. Not everyone who applies is interviewed or tested. There is, how shall I say, a weeding out process. Even in these times."

"That seems like a flawed way to do things," Lily remarked. "A piece of parchment can only tell you so much."

"Yes," agreed Mrs. Potter, nodding. "And what do you suppose," she asked gazing into Lily's eyes, "that piece of parchment will tell of you?"

"That I am extremely qualified," she retorted, refusing to be baited.

"And...?"

Lily scowled.

"You're saying that my being a Muggleborn witch will have me tossed out before anything else happens?" she half demanded, half challenged.

"Only that it could," replied mildly. "You are a remarkable candidate. But then, there will be many others..."

"Ones who aren't Muggleborn witches," Lily added tartly.

Mrs. Potter, obviously sensing that she was beginning to close off, changed tactic.

"You've worked very hard, and have too much potential to leave to chance-"

"And you could guarantee that I wouldn't be left to chance?" Lily demanded, raising an eyebrow.

"No," conceded Mrs. Potter inclining her head. "We could certainly help lower the possibility though."

"How? James said money wouldn't be involved, so if that's true, then by what means do you plan on using to help me?" Lily asked bluntly, crossing her arms. "He said you could put in a 'good word for me'. What exactly does that mean?"

"It means exactly that," replied Mrs. Potter calmly. "We would make it known to the right people that we know one of the applicants and regard them highly."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"And you believe that is what will save me?"

"I believe it will have them thinking twice before making a decision," Mrs. Potter responded confidently. "And it certainly won't hurt you."

"And you would do that without getting anything in return?" Lily asked dubiously.

"Well, we wouldn't be getting nothing, of course," laughed Mrs. Potter lightly. "There is a certain sense of gratification one gets from helping another."

It was Lily's turn now to stare. To study Mrs. Potter. Consider her.

She was an older woman than Lily would've imagined James's mother to be, and quite a bit older than Lily's own. Her hair was almost nearly all white (only a few streaks of grey remained), her creased face was more handsome than pretty, and she had James's nose and poor eyesight. She carried herself with a posture and poise only those with old money seemed to manage, and she radiated kindness. It was undeniable. It was in her voice, in her eyes, in her face.

It was maddening.

Lily wanted to hate her. She hated what Mrs. Potter was saying and it seemed only fitting to hate the women who'd said it in return, but it was not that simple. She believed Mrs. Potter. And believed she did sincerely want to help her simply because.

It was her son who expected reciprocation.

"I can't." Lily felt a pang and pushed it away quickly. "Thank you, but no."

Mrs. Potter titled her head, but said nothing, just watched her closely.

Not in the mood for this again, Lily said "Well, good bye then." and made to leave but then hesitated. "I'm sorry I wasted your time," she added, over her shoulder. "But, I did warn you."

At this, that peculiar little smile returned to Mrs. Potter's face.

"That remains to be seen," she said pleasantly.

Lily felt a familiar burst of annoyance that was usually reserved for James.

"Goodbye." she said more firmly this time, scowling. As she walked away, she cursed the bloody Potter's and their bloody arrogant optimism.

xxx

"She's been out there for a while."

"Must be going well."

James wasn't sure if his father was joking or not.

"Don't worry," his father added reassuringly, misinterpreting James's silence.

"I'm not." James replied truthfully. He wasn't worried. He wasn't angry anymore. He wasn't even hopeful. He was, in fact, quite relaxed. The shot of fire whiskey he'd knocked back upon re-entering The Three Broomstick was in full effect now, and doing a marvelous job. Perhaps he should've had the foresight to have one before this meeting had begun.

A familiar figure making their way back through the crowded pub caught James's attention, and he made an effort to straighten up.

"How'd it go?" he asked when his mother reached their table at last.

"She'll come around," she replied confidently, retaking her seat.

James settled back into his chair.

"Not bloody likely," he said, more unconcerned then he might have otherwise been. "I'm sorry," he added, looking between his parents and adopting a more appropriately disappointed tone, "I really reckoned we'd be able to get through to her."

"Perhaps we did," his mother replied optimistically.

"Doesn't seem like it."

"She's a stubborn girl."

"An understatement if ever I heard one." James reached for his pint.

"I like her."

This announcement gave him pause.

"And what is it you like about her exactly?" he asked his mother slowly, blinking at her incredulously over the rim of his glass.

She ticked off the points, "She can't be swayed. She won't be bought. And she won't be intimidated."

"She also," James pointed out," won't listen to reason."

His mother gave a tinkling laugh.

"Oh, I don't think what's been said has fallen on deaf ears. There was moment there…" she trailed off in thought for a moment, "but something held her back." Then turned a suddenly hawkish eye on James. "You know, you two don't seem to be on as friendly terms as you led on."

"We're going through a rough patch." He took a swig of his drink. "Indefinitely."

"Well, in any case," his mother went on, relenting, "I don't think she's unwelcome to help, just ours. Perhaps if you smoothed out the rough patch, she'd be a bit more susceptible."

"Easier said than done."

"I have faith in you, dear." She patted his hand.

"Thanks, Mum."

"What about the Christmas party?" James's father piped up suddenly, thoughtfully.

"What about it, love?" asked James's mother, turning to him.

"What if Lily came to it?" he said. "Daliege...Battersby... Gorhan, Ratcliffe! Goodwin, the Longbottoms - even Moody will there - and she could meet them all. Introduce herself. Make her own impressions, her own connections. It probably won't have the same effect as us putting in a word with them," he admitted, "but, since Lily's not keen on the idea anyways...It'll be something at least."

"It's perfect," declared James's mother.

His parents turned to him expectantly, awaiting his verdict.

"That," agreed James slowly, "might just be the ticket."

xxx

Lily was slathering another healthy layer of apricot jam onto her morning toast, when the post owls arrived. A regal looking Long-earned owl landed on the table in front of her breakfast plate, but it did not carry a Daily Prophet, instead a sage green envelope was tied to its leg.

"For me?" Lily asked, surprised.

The owl blinked back at her, as though asking why else it would it be here.

Lily made quick work of the knot and the owl, now free of its duty, immediately took flight. Studying the envelope, which was indeed addressed to her, Lily recognized neither the handwriting nor the markings in the wax seal - a crest of some sort. Apprehensive, she tore open the envelope and pulled out a single crisp piece of parchment, also sage green. In the same elegant, swirling handwriting as on the envelope it read:

Charlus & Dorea Potter

request your presence for their annual

Christmas Eve Party

on December Twenty-Fourth at 4pm

R.S.V.P and instructions will follow

And at the bottom of the invitation was a note:

Lily,

I enjoyed our meeting yesterday afternoon. I look forward to seeing you again.

Dorea

It took Lily a few minutes to sift through her emotions. Surprise, confusion, annoyance (I look forward to seeing you again. As if it were a given she would come to the party) until she finally settled on suspicion. Her behavior yesterday had not been the kind to merit an invitation to a Christmas Party. This could not be Mr. and Mrs. Potter's idea, which meant it could only be the handiwork of one other...

"What is this?" Lily demanded marching up to James.

"Just what it says," he replied calmly, not even sparing the green card she'd shoved under his nose a glance. He fed another piece of bacon to the Long-eared owl perched on the table in front of him. "An invitation to the Potters annual Christmas Party."

"And why is it addressed to me?"

"I reckon that's fairly obvious: it's yours."

"Well I don't accept," Lily said.

"You should," James advised.

"I don't fancy ruining my Christmas surrounded by Potters, thank you very much," she sniffed.

"Might be worth it. See, this isn't just a party for you - it's an opportunity."

"To ruin my Christmas?"

"Do you know who Tarquin Battersby is?" James asked, ignoring her quip.

"Should I?"

"How about Arthur Deeley? Clara Ratcliffe? Frank and Alice Longbottom?"

Lily frowned. Yes, she did know who Frank and Alice were. Although, Alice had been Alice Cramden at the time.

"They were three years ahead of us. They're -"

"Aurors now, yes." interrupted James. "I assume you know who Mad-eye Moody is?"

"Of course. So, those other people, they're Aurors too?" she asked cottoning on.

"And very good mates of my parents," he confirmed.

"And they'll be at this party?" She waved the invitation.

"Of course," he echoed. "Plus a few others."

Lily looked back at the swirling letters on the invitation.

"My opportunity?" she repeated slowly.

"Exactly," said James, sounding self-satisfied. "Since you weren't keen on my parents helping you out, why not help yourself out?"

"So this really isn't just a party," she said, turning the card in her fingers. "It's a string."

"I thought we'd agreed on the word oppur-" James was cut off by the sound of ripping paper.

Lily dropped the tattered remains of the invitation on his empty breakfast plate.

"I don't accept."

She turned on her heel and marched away, fuming.

xxx

Charms was the first lesson of the day today, and Lily was the first to arrive. Bypassing her usual seat in the front row, she went for one at the very back, and dropped her bag down on the desk loudly, startling Professor Flitwick, who'd just entered the lesson room. He gave a squeak of alarm that quickly turned into a cry of pain, as the books he'd been levitating in front of him suddenly landed on his feet.

Jumping up and apologizing profusely, Lily hurried to collect the books from the floor, but Flitwick waved her off.

"No need, no need."

With a simple flick of the wrist, he had the books off the ground and whizzing over to his desk, where they arranged themselves into a neat stack before settling down.

Lily gave another weak apology as Flitwick limped to his desk.

Sitting back down, Lily unpacked her bag, taking care to place everything gently on the desk. Once that was done, there was nothing left to do but wait for the start of the lesson. She passed the time looking out of the window, watching the snow fall and distantly worrying if she should have offered to fetch Madame Pomfrey. The sound of something landing on her desk shook her from her reverie.

A mended sage green card lay on top of her copy of The Advanced Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk.

James plopped into the seat next to her.

"That was a rather dramatic exit from break-woah!" He gave a surprised shout of alarm as the invitation was suddenly engulfed in flames. It was reduced to ash in a matter of seconds.

"What's going on back there?" asked Flitwick curiously, who'd been writing something on the chalkboard, turning around.

"Nothing, sir," said Lily evenly, lowering her wand. "James thought he saw a spider."

A snort came from a few tables away.

"Remember mate," Sirius called over with mock patronage, "they're more scared of you than you are of them."

"Wise words, indeed, Mr. Black," said Flitwick. "Now, if you will all please turn to page seventy-seven in your books we'll be continuing our lesson from Thursday..."

"You're making this so much harder than it needs to be, you know that?" James muttered to Lily several minutes later, as everyone was busy with their work.

"Same could be said for you," she shot back quietly.

"I'm trying to be nice about this, Evans," he ground out frustratedly. "But, as that isn't working, I guess I'll just have to be the arsehole again."

"Again?"

"My parents are very influential in the Ministry," he said, keep to an undertone. "Now, I'm offering you the benefits of this. However, what you're failing to grasp, is that I could just as easily do the complete opposite as well."

"So: we've moved on from bribery to blackmail now," Lily noted scornfully. "I don't agree to help you and you'll what? Ruin me, is that it?" she demanded snidely, looking at James sideways.

He did not turn to look at her, nor did he say a word. His silence spoke for itself.

"Bastard," she breathed.

"You're not giving me much of a choice," he replied coolly.

"You-" In a hiss, she proceeded to call him any profane word she could think of. "-will rot in hell for this!" she ended in a furious whisper.

"So, you accept then?" he replied calmly.

Lily spat back a foul curse.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Clenching her jaw and shaking with anger, Lily felt a horrible prickling sensation in her eyes and shot up from her seat.

"Excuse me, sir, I need the lavatories," she said before Flitwick could finish his question, and swept out of the room before he had a chance to dismiss her.

Charging into a stall, she slammed the lock into place and collapsed onto the toilet, her shoulders weighed down with utter defeat. A few hot, angry tears slipped down her cheeks but she didn't bother to brush them away, instead she let a few more escape. Better to get it all out now. She'd be damned if she came that close to losing it in front of James Potter again. He'd won this round, but she would not give him the satisfaction of her tears too.

"Did someone have a laugh at your glasses? Is that why you're crying?"

Lily gave a start, then closed her eyes in a grimace. She knew that glum voice. Looking up, she found Moaning Myrtle perched on the edge of the top wall of the stall, peering down at her without sympathy.

"What are you doing here?" Lily asked. "I thought you only haunted the first floor toilets."

"Not always," replied Myrtle morosely. "It's gets boring sometimes to be in there all by myself. Hardly anyone comes in ..."

Not unless their desperate, Lily thought. Or lost. Myrtle did not exactly make for the best company. Especially if you were trying to use the toilet.

"Olive Hornby used to laugh at my glasses," Myrtle said abruptly. "I would cry in the toilets about it to."

"No one said anything about my glasses. And I wouldn't cry about that," said Lily, reaching for some toilet paper to blow her nose with.

"What is it then? Your spots?" pressed Myrtle. "That mole?"

"No." Lily stood up and unlocked the door.

"Are you sure? They look awful," Myrtle remarked sounding almost upbeat, following Lily to the sinks. "Was it about your hair? Olive used to dip the ends of my pigtails in her inkwell."

Lily washed her hands then face, ignoring the ghost.

"Fine," Myrtle sulked. "Be that way, then." She started to drift off, sniveling, but then perked up suddenly, "Perhaps I'll give Olive a call. I haven't visited her in a while...Ooh, yes, she's due one..."

Lily dried off and stared at herself in the mirror.

Grudgingly, slowly, she acknowledged the truth: she wasn't getting a raw deal really. Having the chance to introduce herself to several Aurors was an amazing opportunity - to use James's word.

She may have given James and his mother a hard time about it but she knew they were right. Had already known in fact, that her being a Muggleborn witch would be a sticking point when she applied for a position as an Auror. Being able to make a name for herself to the people who might play a part in the decision making, or be close to it, was invaluable. Of course, if she'd agreed to having Mr. and Mrs. Potter do it for her that would've been even more so. She was firmly against that still however. Doing it herself, now that was different. There was nothing wrong with that...

She was not going to be sore loser about this. You win some, you lose some; it was that simple. It was a shame - a miserable, unfair, maddening shame - that this was one of those lost things, but, there it was. Nothing more could be done. She'd put up a good fight - James had just played dirtier.

Happy (belated) New Year!

As always: thank you for every review, favorite and follow. They make me happy. :)

- GoddessoftheMaan

edited: 6/22/2016