The first thing James noticed was that he had grown quite tall. The second was that his head was very heavy.
Remus approached him cautiously, eyes wide. "Merlin's bleeding… James, mate. Bloody hell."
James pawed the ground with one of his hooves — hooves! He had hooves! — and dipped his head, allowing Remus to scratch the fur there. Remus' hand drifted towards his ear, knocking against something hard — horns, maybe? James tilted his head, giving Remus what he hoped was a quizzical look.
Remus' face broke into a grin, and he wrapped his arms around James' long neck. "You're a stag, mate! A bloody stag! Beautiful creature, too." His breath hitched, and James' nostrils flared as he caught the tang of salt drifting through the air.
"Thank you," said Remus, burying his face in James' fur. "Thank you. Thank you."
After a long moment, he drew back, wiping his eyes. Reaching up, he grabbed James' antlers to bring the stag's face level with his own.
"I've had three long years to come up with all sorts of humiliating nicknames for your animal forms," he said, beaming.
James let out a low whinny in protest.
"Oh, yes," said Remus. "I've got names for every animal under the sun. 'Moony' is a bit of an unkind nickname, you know — I figure it's only right to return the favour. Why don't we call you… Prongs?" His grin became wicked. "You know. Because you're horny."
James snorted loudly and tossed his head, forcing Remus backwards.
"'Prongs' is a perfect nickname, and you know it," said Remus. "You're sixteen years old, and you've got antlers. You are the definition of horny."
Something nearby squeaked, and a plump rat with sandy fur scurried up Remus' robes and onto his shoulder.
"Pete!" Remus grabbed the rat and cradled it in his hands. "Look at you! I think I might prefer you like this, honestly…"
The rat chittered, clearly offended, and tried to wriggle free of Remus' grasp.
"You're a little less conspicuous than Prongs here, at least," said Remus, placing Peter in the pocket of his robes. "What do you say, Wormtail? Comfortable?"
The lump in Remus' pocket shifted and grew. The rat tumbled out, landing on the ground; in the blink of an eye, Peter was sprawled in front of them.
"Wormtail?" said Peter incredulously, dusting off his knees. "What sort of name is Wormtail?"
"Oh, there's loads more where that came from," said Remus jauntily, mussing Peter's hair. "I wouldn't push my luck, if I were you."
"I spent years becoming an Animagus to keep your lonely wolf arse company, and this is the thanks I get," scoffed Peter, but he didn't seem too put out. "Wormtail. Honestly."
The talking between the humans was beginning to bore James. He wanted to move, to stretch his new, powerful muscles. He snorted, startling both Remus and Peter, and broke into a trot, leaving the grotto in favour of the sloping bank that curved around the Black Lake. He quickened his pace to a canter, then a full-on gallop, his sides heaving with effort. The drizzling rain soaked his fur as he raced around the lake, but he didn't care; his thoughts were less human, more wild.
After three laps around the lake, his flanks heaved with effort, and he slowed to a canter as he returned to the grotto. He gulped air into his lungs and pictured himself walking with human legs; as soon as he had the thought, he began to shrink. His head grew lighter — much lighter — and suddenly he was bipedal once more, nearly tripping over his own two feet.
"Have a nice jog?" asked Remus, steadying him.
"You're loving this, aren't you?" said James, still panting.
It was the happiest Remus had looked in five years. "Why, yes. Yes, I am."
"Erm, not to be a spoilsport," said Peter, checking his watch, "but we still have Charms before dinner."
"Bugger Charms," said James grandly. "We can turn into animals on command. Let's go get pissed in the dormitory."
"Here, here," said Peter enthusiastically, and Remus nodded in agreement.
As James led the way through the tunnel to the second floor, he couldn't help but cast a backwards glance at the grotto. He wondered what sort of nicknames Remus had thought up for Sirius.
Best not to wonder about that, he decided, shaking himself a bit and continuing through the tunnel.
"When's the next full moon?" asked Peter as they climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory.
"Next Thursday," said Remus automatically.
"Brilliant," said James, pushing the door open. "Less than a week to wait, then —"
He froze, and Peter collided with his back. A shaggy black dog the size of a bear was lying on Remus' bed.
"A Grim," said Peter immediately. "Merlin save us, a Grim —"
James' mind began to race, recalling childhood stories of hounds whose very presence foretold disaster. He'd had a second cousin who'd slipped off her broomstick after seeing a Grim; at the funeral, his relatives had whispered about a big black dog when they thought he wasn't listening.
Remus stepped forward, a look of complete shock on his face. The dog raised its huge head, staring at Remus with mournful grey eyes. It thumped its tail hopefully.
"Sirius?"
The dog let out a little whine and thumped its tail harder.
Remus and the dog looked at each other for a moment. Then Remus darted forward, and James reached for his wand, thinking Remus was going to attack the dog. Instead, Remus landed roughly on top of it, embracing it and ruffling its fur.
The dog barked loudly and began to lick Remus' face.
"You're a Padfoot," said Remus. "A Padfoot!"
"A what?" asked Peter, sitting on his own bed and eyeing the dog warily.
"It's what my dad calls Hellhounds," explained Remus as the dog rolled onto its back. "It's another name for a Grim. You great, hairy omen of death… Gave us quite a fright, didn't you?" And he scratched the dog's stomach vigorously.
"All's forgiven, then, I suppose?" asked James once he had recovered the power of speech.
Remus paused and glanced at the dog, who looked suddenly guilty. It shifted uncomfortably, and then Sirius was sitting next to Remus, their shoulders touching.
"Erm, about that." Sirius ran a hand through his hair. "I think, maybe — we ought to talk. I mean…" he glanced at James and Peter, looking extremely self-conscious. "Moony, can we go somewhere… private? I want to, erm, apologise, and I think it would be better if we… that is…"
"Somewhere private sounds good," said Remus graciously, ignoring Sirius' obvious discomfort. "There's a room on the seventh floor that'll be perfect, I'll show you…"
James and Peter looked at each other as soon as Remus and Sirius left the dormitory.
"Well, that could have been worse," said Peter.
James nodded. "I've never heard Sirius apologise for anything before. Hopefully once they're alone, he'll sound less like a stammering idiot…"
"I doubt it." Peter pulled a couple of bottles full of dark liquid out from under his mattress. "Firewhisky?"
They had finished the first bottle of Firewhisky and were well through the second by the time the door of the dormitory swung back open. Remus walked in, followed by the enormous black dog.
"So?" asked Peter, draining his glass. "Didja kiss and make up, then?"
"Something along those lines." Remus smiled. "It's difficult to stay angry at Padfoot here. He's a very good boy, aren't you, Pads?"
The dog let out a joyful woof.
Later that evening, Sirius and James were sprawled on James' bed, trying to make their ceiling look like the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. Sirius eventually stowed his wand and rolled over to look at James, his expression earnest. "Thanks for leaving the drawer open, mate."
"Er, that was an accident," said James. He glanced reflexively across the room at Remus, who appeared to be thoroughly absorbed in his Potions homework.
"Right, sure it was." Sirius stretched, yawning. There was a rustle at James' side and Sirius, as Padfoot, curled up against his legs.
"You kept up with the incantations, didn't you?" murmured James, scratching between the dog's ears. "Even though we didn't speak to you for the better part of a month."
The dog bobbed its head in response.
"I must admit, I'm impressed," said James in a low voice. "Didn't think you had the discipline. Then again," he added as Padfoot gave him a baleful look, "you did end up transforming into a dog. Man's best friend and all that. If that's not a demonstration of loyalty, I dunno what is."
The dog let out a satisfied-sounding snort and stood up. It hopped off James' bed and joined Remus in his. Remus didn't look up from his homework as Padfoot snuggled next to him, but he did wrap an arm around the dog's neck, petting him almost absentmindedly as he turned the pages of his book.
James caught Peter's eye, and they smiled at each other. Then he laid back in bed, folding his arms behind his head and smiling contentedly at their half-enchanted ceiling. All was as it should be.
A horrible portrait of the Dark Lord had appeared in the Slytherin common room over the weekend, and the House was divided over whether or not it was in good taste. Most seemed to regard the painting as a vaguely amusing prank; Severus, of course, loathed the very sight of it, as he had a hunch about who its creators were. The other Intents found the portrait extremely disrespectful, and Bella nearly had a fit when she realised that not even Avery could un-stick the painting from the wall.
As a result, Bella began to treat the Intents even more harshly, as if they personally had a hand in the creation of the portrait. She made them clean the common room using their own robes for rags nearly every night, much to Severus' exasperation. Unlike the other, pure-blood Intents, he only owned a few pairs of hand-me-down robes, and the constant use made them even more threadbare than they were already.
Bella's intensity expanded to Occlumency training, as well; she insisted that Severus spend every weekday evening practising with her, heedless of the fact that his O.W.L.s were less than a month away. Between the daily activities of the Intents, the weekly rituals, and now the Occlumency lessons, Severus' precious study time was rapidly dwindling down to nothing.
"Ha!" Bella barked one evening when Severus brought up the need to revise for his O.W.L.s. "You think the Dark Lord cares how many Outstandings you get? You think he gives a rat's arse that you pass your precious Potions exam?"
"Forget it, then, and let's just go another round," he snarled, raising his wand. "Clearly keeping nameless mind-readers out of my head is more important than passing the exam that all of wizarding Britain considers to be—"
"You think this is about nameless mind-readers?" she said, her voice rising. "You have no idea the advantage Occlumency gives you, the gift I have dropped into your ungrateful —"
"Obviously, and I'm sure the examiners —"
"DO NOT INTERRUPT!" she shrieked. There was a crack like a whip, and sparks shot from her wand, startling both of them. Severus eyed her warily, biting his tongue.
"As I was saying," continued Bella, breathing deeply, "if you think it is an accident that I chose to teach you this magic, this magic in particular, then you are stupider than I thought."
Severus narrowed his eyes. "Enlighten me, then."
"There's going to be a test," she said. The words sounded oddly rehearsed, as if she'd been planning to tell him for some time. "Before you become Secondaries. Lucius is going to administer Veritaserum to all the Intents, and you will take turns asking each other a variety of… unpleasant questions. The exercise is designed to uncover the weaknesses of each Intent."
"And Occlumency is one method of bypassing Veritaserum."
"Not completely," she said. "You will still be forced to tell the truth. But if you master Occlumency, you will be able to hide your thoughts even from yourself, enabling you to speak only a version of the truth."
"Why give me such an advantage?" asked Severus. He still had not lowered his wand. "What do you have to gain by undermining Lucius?"
Bella laughed; her wild curls bounced as she threw her head back. "Lucius was the one who gave the order for you to learn Occlumency! This is another tradition — allowing the most promising Intent to retain some semblance of their dignity while they are examined by their peers."
"And that's how you learned Occlumency," said Severus, putting the pieces together. "You were the most promising Intent." Bella nodded. She seemed more relaxed than she had moments ago, and he decided to push his luck. "What did you have to hide?"
"Cheeky little Sev." Bella smiled broadly and raised her wand. "If you want to know so badly, why don't you take it from me?"
Severus' lips twitched. "Fine," he said, staring into her large grey eyes. "Legilimens."
At once, his mind filled with memories that were not his own, so vivid that he recoiled. There was so much to look at he didn't know where to start. A tiny girl with curly black hair was being Sorted; the Hat had barely grazed her head before it shouted "Slytherin!"... A toddler in a green dress was chasing after her older sisters, laughing… Her mother was picking her up...
Severus began to feel slightly sick as the images flashed through his mind at a dizzying pace. Now the toddler was wearing the Sorting Hat, and the curly-haired girl was chasing her sisters. Now her mother was wearing a green dress, now the girl was staring at a raven whose neck was bent at an odd angle… Now the raven was in a green dress, wearing the Sorting Hat —
"Enough." He took an involuntary step backwards, breaking the connection between them. The remnants of his lunch rose in his throat, and he had to will himself not to be sick.
Bella looked completely unfazed. She tilted her head. "Find anything useful?"
"Not remotely," he growled, and she giggled.
"Better luck next time, Sev. My turn, then… Legilimens."
It was nearly midnight by the time Bella tired of coaching him. This session had been the longest and most fruitful yet; despite this, panic squeezed the air from Severus' lungs as he returned to the dormitory. He was able to conceal his most incriminating feelings about Lily, but he couldn't erase her from his mind entirely. She was everywhere — in all of his Hogwarts years, in his summers in Cokeworth, in every part of his childhood worth remembering. He couldn't get rid of her. Taking Veritaserum would certainly weaken his mental barriers even further.
He carefully opened the door to the dormitory, glancing at Mulciber's sleeping form. They currently had a shaky truce, but when the time came, Mulciber surely wouldn't hesitate to question Severus about Lily. And how would he respond?
His insides twisted as he imagined himself babbling about Lily: how long he had known her, the things he would do for her, how he didn't care that she was Muggle-born. That being Muggle-born merely added to her brilliance. Would Lucius be content to decline him a position among the Followers at that point? Or would Severus simply vanish, the way Muggles across the country were doing with increasing frequency, if the Daily Prophet was to be believed?
It won't happen, he told himself, changing into dingy pyjamas and climbing into bed. But even as he practised his mind-clearing exercises that night, he couldn't shake the feeling that a mere two weeks of Occlumency lessons wouldn't be enough to strengthen his mental defences. He could hear Bella's voice echoing through his head, over and over. If the wrong people find out…
He slept fitfully that night. When he woke, there was a pit in his stomach, and he had a dreadful certainty about what he must do.
The full moon rose the following Thursday, and James could barely sit still, he was so excited. He had such a hard time concentrating that he flubbed a Banishing Spell spectacularly during Charms, exploding the cushion he was practising on.
"Oh, dear," muttered Sirius as Flitwick descended upon them, making James laugh hysterically.
After the lesson, they parted ways with Remus at the hospital wing. "Don't forget to transform before you open the trapdoor," Remus reminded them, fiddling with the sleeves of his robes. "Don't let the wolf get a glimpse of your human forms. There's no rush if you can't manage the Transfiguration right away — we've got all night, after all. Just take your time, and when you're ready —"
"Remus, mate," said James. "Stop worrying. Everything is going to be fine."
"I'm not worrying. I'm going over the plan," said Remus, but the twisted ends of his sleeves gave him away.
"Well, stop planning, then." James herded Remus towards the hospital wing. "Poppy's waiting for you. We'll see you in" — he checked his watch — "an hour or so."
As the sun was setting, James, Sirius, and Peter crouched in the shadows of the Forbidden Forest, hidden by the Invisibility Cloak. Remus and Madam Pomfrey soon came into view and disappeared between the roots of the Whomping Willow. By the time Madam Pomfrey reemerged, the Cloak was draped neatly over a branch, and three pairs of animal eyes watched her return to the castle.
Padfoot whined with anticipation, and Wormtail darted out from the edge of the forest. It scampered between the Willow's swaying branches and pushed the knot at the base of the trunk, freezing its swaying branches.
With the tree now motionless, The dog and the rat slipped easily into the tunnel, but the stag was too large to fit.
"Wish my Animagus was a mole," said James finally. He straightened and rubbed his head, which was sore from trying to widen the tunnel with his antlers. The dog whined again, sounding worried.
"It's fine, Padfoot." James dropped into the tunnel. "I'll just have to transform inside the Shack. Don't think I'll be able to fit through the trapdoor with a massive set of antlers, either."
The dog barked loudly, alarmed, and James laughed. "Well, you'll just have to distract Moony while I sneak into the Shack, won't you? Don't tell me you can't manage that!"
Padfoot and Wormtail glanced at each other, but they followed him down the tunnel. In the end, James pulled down the trapdoor, and the dog leapt inside, followed closely by the rat. James waited a few moments, then hoisted himself into the Shack as well.
From another room came a low, feral growl, followed by the clamour of knocked-over furniture, and Padfoot yelped.
James closed his eyes. His pulse thrummed as he searched for the other, stronger heartbeat inside his chest. The second heartbeat grew louder, galloping, overtaking his own —
Prongs reared onto his hindquarters as the wolf careened into the room. The wolf snapped its jaws at him, and his front hooves hit the floor with a thud.
The wolf skidded to a halt, regarding its new playmate curiously. It crept forward, and its snout twitched as it sniffed the stag.
Padfoot bounded into the room, barking, and tackled the wolf. The two wrestled on the floor, play-fighting and nipping each other's haunches. Prongs joined in, using his antlers to toss the wolf to one side of the room, which was great fun. The dog let out a series of barks, demanding to be tossed as well.
In many ways, their first full moon together reminded James of all the nights they had spent in the Shrieking Shack as humans, drinking and carrying on. Padfoot and the wolf got on particularly well, being equal in size and strength. Peter, as Wormtail, led them in several rowdy games of Hide-and-Seek, and they tried to play Hunt with Prongs as the prey, but there wasn't quite enough room.
When the first rays of dawn streamed through the boarded-up windows of the Shack, all four creatures were using a battered old blanket to play Tug, which Wormtail was losing quite badly. The wolf collapsed as soon as the sunlight touched its skin, and it let out a low, agonised moan. The other animals dropped the blanket, watching the wolf with something that might have been labelled concern. Padfoot made a soft keening noise, nudging the wolf with his snout.
A series of sharp, horrible snapping sounds rent the air, like many bones breaking at once, and the wolf shrieked. Its back arched, its ears nearly touching its tail. The wolf's scream became heart-stoppingly human as its limbs lengthened and its pelt receded, tufts of fur retracting into smooth, pale skin. With a final, anguished howl, its lupine head jerked forward, and suddenly Remus was lying on the floor, eyes closed.
With a clatter of hooves, James returned to his human form, dropping to his knees at Remus' side. "Alright, Moony?" He placed a hand on Remus' back.
Remus stirred, blinking blearily. "Never… better," he rasped. "Are —" He broke off as a coughing fit wracked his body.
James answered the truncated question. "We're fine, Moony. Not a scratch on any of us."
"Good." Slowly, Remus rolled onto his back, wincing and clutching his side. "Though I think… you might have got me, Prongs…"
He lifted the corner of his shirt, revealing several spreading bruises and a deep gash across his ribs. Padfoot growled, glaring accusingly at James.
"Don't give me that look!" said James defensively. "Sorry, Remus, mate. Want me to try my hand at a healing spell?"
"No need," said Remus hoarsely, pulling his shirt back down. "This is nothing compared to... what I usually get up to. Madam Pomfrey will be pleased, actually. Speaking of…" he glanced at the sun coming in through the slats on the windows. "You lot should probably take the long way back to Hogwarts. She'll be coming up through the tunnel soon."
After bidding Remus goodbye, the stag, dog and rat slipped out the door of the Shrieking Shack. They trotted leisurely through Hogsmeade, took a detour around the Quidditch pitch — Padfoot had smelt something interesting — and returned to the castle.
After an early breakfast, they went to Transfiguration, where James plopped into his seat, exhausted, but feeling thoroughly and wonderfully alive.
During his free period on Wednesday, Severus managed to avoid revising with the other Intents by claiming that he still hadn't finished his pledge and needed to work on it. After leaving the library, he went straight to the dungeons and rapped a fist on the door to Slughorn's office.
"Sliverus!" boomed Professor Slughorn. "Come in, my boy! How can I help you?"
"I was wondering if you knew where Lily might be, sir," said Severus. "She wanted me to bring her some more rue. For her independent study, you know…" His voice trailed off meaningfully, and he reached under his robes, pulling out a bundle of rue.
"I'm sure she will appreciate the help," said Slughorn jovially. "Clever girl, that one."
"Indeed," said Severus stiffly. "Sir."
"Witches like her don't come around every century, you know," continued Slughorn, winking at Severus as he hoisted himself to his feet. "Now… I believe Lily has commandeered Workshop Five for her potion-brewing purposes. Do you need me to show you the way?"
"That won't be necessary." Severus inclined his head and backed out of the room. "Thank you for your help, sir. I'll give her your regards."
He Vanished the rue on the way to Workshop Five, which was located in a corridor just around the corner from Slughorn's office. When he tried the handle of the workroom, he was surprised to find it locked; as he raised his hand to knock, however, the door swung open.
"What do you want?" asked Lily, her arms crossed. "I don't know if I ever told you, but I'm brewing a highly sensitive potion and don't have time for distractions."
"Brought you something," said Severus. "Can I come in?"
Lily narrowed her eyes. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought she was performing Legilimency on him. Finally, she nodded, and he breathed a sigh of relief as she beckoned him into the room. A small cauldron sat in the centre of the workshop, bubbling away as several brass instruments hovered around it, taking measurements.
"You've figured out the rue, then," said Severus, eyeing the cauldron.
"Clearly," said Lily. "Why are you here, Sev?"
"Right," he said, rummaging in his bag and handing her a pair of gloves. "These are for you."
Lily looked at him sceptically. "Those are my mum's old gloves. Y'know, the useless ones? I've got a dragon-hide pair now —"
"Try them on," said Severus. "Trust me."
Lily took the gloves with obvious reluctance. For a moment, it looked like she might stuff them into her robes and slam the door in his face.
"Humour me," he said, trying to salvage the situation.
She sighed and pulled the gloves on. Immediately, her eyes widened. "These — you…"
"I reinforced the lining with hide from a Welsh Green," he said. "And rubbed down the outsides with Ironbelly oil. They should work as well as any pair of Wizarding gloves now."
Lily flexed her fingers, staring at the gloves. "You didn't have to…"
"You'll have to reapply the oil every six months or so, but I imagine that's not asking too much," continued Severus. "Of course, if you prefer the pair you already have, I won't be —"
Lily threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. "Thank you," she said into his ear. "I've missed you."
His senses were overwhelmed by her, but all he could think was that this embrace would be one more compromising memory to suppress. "The last few months have been awful, haven't they?" he said wryly, untangling himself from her.
"That's one way of putting it." Lily wiped her eyes and smiled at him. "Want to get out of here? I need to run down to the greenhouses for some thyme…"
"Of course," he said.
They stepped into the corridor, and Lily locked the door to the workshop with a small bronze key, which she slipped into her bag.
"So what have you been up to, anyway?" she asked, swinging her arms through the air as they walked through the Entrance Hall.
"Revising, mostly," said Severus. "Did you have career counselling with McGonagall?"
"Yeah." They stepped onto the grounds of Hogwarts, and she breathed in deeply. "Ah… smells like spring. I suppose you met with old Sluggy, didn't you? Was he ever so helpful?"
"You guessed it," said Severus, smirking. "He thinks 'Sliverus' should take up a Potions apprenticeship in Diagon Alley after graduating."
"At least he's aware that you're decent at Potions," said Lily. "Even if he can't be arsed to remember your name."
He snorted. "Some consolation. What did McGonagall have to say to you?"
"Well, she brought up my marks in Potions, obviously, and in Charms," she said as they took the well-trodden path to the greenhouses. "She suggested I look into a job with the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, but…" She shuddered. "The bureaucracy, can you imagine? No, thanks."
"The Reversal Squad wouldn't be that bad," said Severus. "Of course, ninety-nine per cent of the job is handling Splinching cases, but…"
"That's what I told her," said Lily. "It'd be boring. Plus, I just can't see myself as a Ministry girl. That's when she…" Her cheeks tinged a pale shade of pink. "She actually suggested I look into Healing."
"Really?"
"Yeah. And, I dunno, Sev, I've been thinking about it, and it might actually be a good fit, don't you think?" She was rushing to get the words out. "I mean, Healing's really interesting, it's so different from Muggle medicine. And you have to be good at Potions to be a Healer, plus there's an aspect of thinking on your feet — not to mention all sorts of really specialised charms, which would be so fun to learn…"
"You'd be a brilliant Healer," he told her, and her blush deepened. "Seriously."
"You really think so?"
"I do," said Severus. "If it's something you're interested in, you should pursue it."
"Healing would come in useful, too," she said. "You know, if we… if wizarding Britain really ends up at war."
"That's ridiculous," he said before he could stop himself. "There's not going to be a war."
"No, right, 'course not," said Lily hurriedly. "I only meant — if there was…"
"There won't be," said Severus. "All that's happened over the past five years are skirmishes, not a full-blown war. And a war wouldn't be profitable for either side, anyway. It's not going to happen."
Besides, he thought, calling it a war implies that two equal sides are fighting. The Ministry might have greater numbers, but Dark Lord's might would surely crush anyone who stood against him. There wouldn't be a war — only a massacre.
Lily nodded vaguely, but her brow was furrowed, and he wondered for a second time if she could somehow read his thoughts. He cast a sideways glance at her. "I would hope you wouldn't fight in a real war, anyway," he said. "If there's actually open combat, people will die, you know."
"I know," she said softly. "But people are dying anyway. Our people." She met his eyes, and he had to will himself not to flinch. "Besides, I wouldn't be on the front lines as a Healer, would I? I'd be in a more… supportive role."
"I suppose," said Severus, and they fell silent, listening to the far-off, boisterous shouts of students enjoying the weather.
Lily spoke first, keeping her eyes on the path in front of them. "If there is a war..." She hesitated. "Which side do you think you'd find yourself on?"
"Whichever side you're on, obviously."
That answer apparently wasn't good enough for Lily. "Come on, Sev," she said, jostling him. "Be serious. I know you have friends who…"
"There's not going to be a war," he said firmly. "But if there is, you're mad if you think I'd bet against Lily Evans."
She smiled, looking relieved. "So I'll be on the sidelines, as a Healer, and you'll be…?"
"Locked in an apothecary somewhere, making Potions for the cause."
"Sluggy would be proud," she said, laughing. "Would you be inventing spells, too, d'you think?"
Severus remembered the Sectumsempra curse he was perfecting and began to feel ill. "Probably."
In the greenhouse, Lily was so excited to finally be at the stage where she needed thyme — or perhaps she was simply delighted that she and Severus were getting along, for once — that she flitted from plant to plant, talking loudly and dropping her trimming shears multiple times. As they were leaving, she nearly forgot her bag, so Severus dashed back into the greenhouse to grab it for her.
After they reached the castle, Lily bid him goodbye with another mind-melting hug and practically skipped to her workroom. As she vanished from sight, Severus reached into his pocket, hating himself with every fibre of his being, and pulled out a perfect copy of a small, bronze key.
Success.