June 19th, 1976

Though they only arrived at the Burrow eleven minutes ago, Lily's beginning to regret that she agreed to the day's itinerary.

"You realize that I haven't so much as sat on a broomstick in five years, yeah?" she tells Marlene warily, careful to keep her voice down, given her company. "How am I supposed to survive against half the Quidditch team members at Hogwarts, including their Captains?"

"Relax," says Marlene airily, waving hello as Meghan McCormack, Gryffindor Seeker, Side-Along-Apparates onto the premises with her brother, Hufflepuff Chaser Kirley. "It's not like you're going to be seriously injured. Jay insists on having you on his team; you know how protective he's going to be of you."

Lily shudders—she doesn't like to think about James Potter protecting her—but looking at the McCormacks, she realizes that she'll probably need all the help she can get. She stutters at Marlene for a second, then gestures, open-mouthed, to the siblings. "Marlene, the McCormacks just got here. You know, children of Catriona McCormack from Pride of Portree? How exactly am I supposed to compete with them?"

Marlene just shakes her head at her, smiling. Every summer, the Gryffindor team apparently hosts a series of Quidditch matches with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, the first of which they're attending today. Though not a team member herself, Marlene uses her connections with Potter and Black to get into the first few (less serious) games. Lily agreed thoughtlessly to come along, not having realized what a poor match she was for the other invitees—but then, Marlene hadn't been very articulate about their competitors when she told Lily about the game at five o'clock this morning.

Hence the nervous clench of her stomach as Lily trains her eyes to the ground, grasping her borrowed Shooting Star tightly. Gideon Prewett, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, is hosting today's match, to her growing anxiety: she's never much liked him or his twin brother, Fabian, troublemakers that they are. She asks Marlene, "Who else is coming, anyway?"

"Er… the Prewetts, obviously, and Jay, and the McCormacks. Black, Eddie Bones, Liz Clearwater; Benjy Fenwick is Seeking with Meg, I think. A few others…" She trails off pensively. "We'll probably both be Beaters; it's mostly Chasers coming. You should be grateful; you won't have to compete, per se, you just whack Bludgers at people from the sidelines."

"So I can bludgeon myself to death. Perfect," she mutters, rubbing her temples. "I suppose Potter's planning on rescuing me?"

"He'll be grateful for the recognition there, Evans," says someone behind her. She turns to find Black, his arms crossed and face alight with a smirk. "Never thought you'd turn to him as your knight in shining armor."

She groans inwardly. Sure, she'd known Black was going to be here today when she agreed to go—knew, if she took Marlene up on her offer, that Black was going to be hanging around all summer—but that doesn't make it any easier or less confusing every time she sees him.

"I don't plan to, Black," Lily snaps. "If you'll excuse me."

She leaves him with Marlene, stepping out of the living room and heading outside. The wind whips at her robes, and she wishes idly that she'd dressed for colder weather. Her, Lily Evans, playing Beater… they can't be serious. If only Severus knew—no, she's not going to think about him, not now, not again.

"Red?"

She doesn't bother to correct Potter this time. She's seen him a bit every day since getting out of school—while out to lunch, at someone's house, on mornings when he sees fit to drop in—and though she can't say that she's fond of the nickname, she's been learning to live with it. God knows that grudging acceptance is easier than complaining about it every few minutes for hours. "Hey," she greets him with a sigh, instead of protesting. "Marlene says you're claiming me?"

"Yeah," he confirms, closing the storm door behind him and following Lily outside. "Can't have you endangering yourself for lack of proper training; the other two Chasers will do fine without me for, say, a few seconds every couple minutes, anyway. Care for a walk?"

She shrugs, falling into step beside him as he circles around to the backyard. "You're sure you want to play with me? I'll probably end up knocking you out with the bat or something."

Potter, surprisingly, doesn't laugh; he just smiles sympathetically and slows his pace. "I consider it an honor to have you on my team, even if it's just Quidditch, regardless of your experience or lack thereof." Lily leaves it at that, nodding thoughtfully and pulling her robes tighter. "Cold?"

"A bit," she confesses. It's curiously chilly and feels more like November than June, and the wind whips mockingly at their raw, reddening cheeks. "It's really not that—oh, Potter, you don't have to…" Before she can refuse, he's taking off his cloak and draping it around her shoulders. She's always been tall for a girl, but it still drags a few extra inches on the ground.

"It's nothing," insists Potter. "We'll both warm up once the game starts, anyway. Flying does that to you, even if you're not doing sixty kilometers per hour. But then, with your Shooting Star…" He eyes the borrowed broom suspiciously.

Lily groans—an awkward, strangled sound that matches her dread. "Is it too late to back out?"

"'Fraid so. You're here, aren't you?" Potter says bracingly. He pauses next, watching her with a solemn look in his eyes, and she's almost afraid of what he'll say to break the tense silence. "Have you reconsidered my offer at all?"

Lily bites her lip. "Offer?"

"To be friends, I mean." He stops and shuffles from foot to foot.

Oh—that. "It was less an offer than a plea, don't you think?" Lily snipes, facing him head-on. He reaches up to rumple his hair, half-blushing (though it might just be the cold), and she softens slightly. "Sorry. I shouldn't be so rude."

He dismisses, "It's fine," the color subsiding from his cheeks. They stand there for a moment, him hoping, her considering. Though Lily can't claim to like him in the slightest, her hostility is less provoked than usual. She's learned from what happened between her and Severus not to give second chances too freely, and yet—she never really gave James Potter a chance in the first place. If it weren't for Potter and Black's pranks, would they ever have been at odds?

"Acquaintances," she decides abruptly. "You'll just have to work your way up from there."

His mouth twitches into the ghost of a smile. "I won't disappoint," he promises, his expression teetering on the edge of something like determination, but it dissipates as they round the corner, and he just tightens his cloak around her shoulders and bites his lip. "We should head inside," he suggests quietly when she doesn't speak. "Gid's forming teams before everyone comes out."

"Yeah," Lily says passively, "yeah, of course."

Unsurprisingly, Potter holds the door open for her with a wink and a flourish. She shoves his cloak back at him in return.

"All right," Gideon Prewett is shouting over the crowded din, "we're still missing a few people, but we've got enough to start teaming off. Elisabeth and I are going to be Captains and Chasers."

"We should split up the house teams to get a chance to play with each other," breaks in Elisabeth authoritatively, scanning the room. Her personality matches her role: a sixth year Hufflepuff prefect, Elisabeth has quiet purpose and a commanding presence. "Fabian, James, Sirius, you're with me; Gideon, you can have Edgar and Meghan."

Meghan pipes up, "I'm Keeping, not Seeking—blasted Prewetts won't let me switch positions for the house team. Can't ever find anyone else short enough to do it, apparently. You'd think, since I'm already a fifth year…" She's clearly shorter for her age than she likes and can hardly be 150 centimeters, if that, and her squeaky voice only emphasizes her height.

Gideon grins indulgently. "All right, then. Meghan's our Keeper—we've got Benjy and Dirk coming, anyway, so that won't be a problem. Fabian, you're Keeping, too?" Fabian nods, a sharp jerk of the head. "You'd better be with me, too, Kirley; don't want Meghan going soft on you."

"Right," consents Kirley from the back corner. He's tall and gangly on the ground, not at all like a star Chaser, freckled with a bright auburn mop of hair. No one mentions the irony: Fabian is Keeper to Gideon's Chaser, yet there is virtually no concern for brotherly favoritism. "So we've got all our Chasers? Me, Gid, Ed; Liz, James…"

"Still missing one," says Elisabeth, "but we'll figure it out later; I'm more concerned that Sirius is the only Beater on either team. Gideon, you have one of the Ravenclaws coming, right? Solveig, probably?"

Nodding, Gideon asks, "Yeah, Bernhardt—do you want her, or…?"

"Red is with us," Potter interrupts. It's the first thing he's said since they reentered the house, and there's a formidable edge to his voice that neither Gideon nor Elisabeth counters as he (subconsciously?) shuffles a little closer to Lily from behind. "You can have Bernhardt and McKinnon."

"That settles it, then," Gideon decides, "and just leaves the Seekers and Liz's last Chaser. Elisabeth wants to split up houses—Benjy's Hufflepuff and Dirk's Ravenclaw, so for Seeking—"

"We get Cresswell and you get Fenwick," finishes Black. "Whenever they get here, at least. So who's the last Chaser?"

Gideon hesitates. "I…" There's a long, uncomfortable pause as Gideon looks expectantly to Fabian, who pales and moves, ever so slightly, closer to the living room wall. There's a fast flash of something unforgiving in Gideon's ordinarily mischievous eyes. "Tell me you didn't."

Lily looks between the twins, furrowing her brow. "What—?"

"Careful, Red," Potter warns, murmuring in her ear. He's standing almost directly behind her now, leaning in over her shoulder. She shivers at the close contact but doesn't protest; there's enough intensity in the room already.

"She's decent, if you'd just get to know her," says Fabian. There's a pleading tone to his defense. "Just because it goes against your orthodoxy—"

"You had to invite your girlfriend," scathes Gideon. "I tell you to get in touch with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and you go and ask Dorcas Meadowes to come."

Lily catches on in a rush. Dorcas Meadowes, seventh year, is Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team and among the most hated of her house—and her relationship with the less noble of the two Prewetts is the biggest romantic scandal at Hogwarts that Lily can remember (disregarding the rumors that surround her own house and year).

"She's a brilliant Chaser, and you'd do best to respect that today," Fabian sighs. "I told her seven-thirty; she should be here any minute."

Gideon rolls his eyes but doesn't retort, muttering instead about how late everyone is running. Gradually, a low hum of conversation eases its way back into the tiny room. Potter, taking advantage of the moment, tries to wrap his arms around Lily, and she swats him away, but not unkindly. "Still need an explanation?" he asks; she shakes her head.

"Is she really that bad?" she inquires. "I mean, I've only seen her in passing, but she seems all right. Conceited, maybe, but so is… half of Gryffindor, really."

"You mean my half, right?" Potter snickers, then answers, "Well, Gryffindors aren't tied up in all that pureblood propaganda. Whether Meadowes is a Death Eater in training or not, people are always going to associate her with Voldemort's war for being in Slytherin. Like it or not…"

They split the room in two, their team versus Gideon's. Black in particular is furious with Fabian, but Elisabeth is quick to quell the impending dispute. "You'll have to learn to work cooperatively with her today, Black. Fabian's right; Meadowes isn't bad when you get to know her. We've done prefect work together before, and she's never made a crack at me for being Muggle-born."

Black bristles, but Potter reaches out to restrain him. "Let it go, Sirius," he advises. "So…strategy, anyone? We'll need to be inventive, since all we have are fruits…"

"Speaking of which, I'd better go and charm them now, after what happened when we waited until the game started last summer," says Fabian, disappearing into the kitchen. "What do you think? A watermelon for the Quaffle, apples for Bludgers, and an apricot Snitch sound good?"

The last four players trickle in over the next quarter hour, and Gideon is quick to start the game, perhaps to avoid any pleasantries with Meadowes. She's surprisingly inoffensive when Lily meets her: grungy and pale, with a poor complexion, she's almost polite to her largely Gryffindor company, if not a little downtrodden and shy. Even so, she can't help but serve as the face of Slytherin House, prefect that she is.

The fruits only crudely resemble their counterparts, but it's enough to satisfy most of the players. Black keeps close throughout the game, guiding Lily's arm and advising her about her aim. "Don't swing so steeply: you're going to knock yourself off your broom at that angle," he says constantly. "Aim further out, so it won't just fly back down to you."

Persistent as he is, Potter flies over to check on her every few minutes. "All right, Red?" he asks, his smile only widening when she snaps at him to get back in the game before he loses it for them.

While an older Shooting Star is a shoddy broom at best, this one is fairly new and thus competitively fast, though not quite enough that Lily is winded. Oddly enough, her few successful blows are all delivered to opponents, and she's able to loosely follow the score when not otherwise occupied. Their team maintains a narrow lead for the majority of the game; even to one who knows little about Quidditch, it's easy to see why Elisabeth is the Hufflepuff Captain. Despite the competition—two of three Chasers are seventh years, she only a sixth year, and a Chaser and the Keeper both have McCormack blood—her strategy, combined with Potter's input, gives Lily's team a necessary edge. Meadowes, on the other hand, is not so lucky. Though a team Captain herself, no one, not even Elisabeth, seems to appreciate her considerate critiques.

In the end, though, Gideon's team is victorious when Benjy Fenwick (product of Hufflepuff training) steals the makeshift Snitch. Gideon and Edgar are particularly vocal about the win; Elisabeth remains diplomatic, promptly shaking Gideon's hand and congratulating Benjy on the catch. "I'll be in touch," she promises the Prewetts, leaving Meadowes noticeably out of the discussion. "We'll definitely do this again sometime. Are you free anytime next week?"

Some of the players—Meadowes, Dirk Cresswell, and the McCormacks—leave soon after, but the rest of them (save the twins, who've promised to babysit their sister Molly's squalling babies, Bill and Charlie) are treated to ice creams at Florean Fortescue's afterward by Elisabeth. It's shocking how empty Diagon Alley is, compared to last summer; only a few conversational witches and wizards linger in the street, the rest hurrying to and from their destinations. Florean shakes his head at his loss of business, when asked by Marlene. "It's nothing like it used to be," he acknowledges, handing out modest vanilla cones (compliments of Elisabeth's budget). "Your lot is the first party of any real size I've had in weeks."

They eat outside, since there's no chance of a hot summer sun to melt their desserts. To Lily's chagrin, Potter gives her his cloak again the minute they sit down, claiming not to need it and making a public show of its presentation. There are seven others who come, apart from Lily: Marlene, Potter, Elisabeth, Black, Edgar Bones, Benjy Fenwick, and Solveig Bernhardt from Ravenclaw. "Shame Meg couldn't stay. You all make me feel young," remarks Edgar, his mouth dripping white within minutes. He is dark, short, and stocky, with a perpetual playful gleam in his eyes and spring in his step.

"There's that and that widely publicized torch you're carrying for her," Benjy teases, his uncut mousy-brown hair windswept in his eyes. Most of the group laughs, Edgar included. "Dirk's a fifth year, too, you know, but I don't see you asking for him."

"I hope we make prefect together," says Edgar wistfully, slurping at his cone. "Me and Meg, I mean. We could do rounds together, maybe."

Elisabeth speaks up to Lily from across the table—unfortunately, Lily's seated next to Potter instead of her. "It's too bad you didn't make prefect last year, Lily," she mentions. "I was so sure you were going to get it."

"Over Alice Abbott? You know she's first in the class, right?" says Marlene.

From beneath her bright blush, Lily struggles not to shoot Marlene a dirty look. "Thanks, Elisabeth," she says instead, and promptly bites into her cone. Her academic rivalry with Alice is advertised enough without Marlene's input, and while Alice is by far the kindest of Lily's Gryffindor roommates, she's something of a sore spot for her to discuss.

Sensing tension, Solveig hastens to change the subject. Her hazel eyes are alight and flicker frenetically between her peers. "Who do you think is going to make Heads this year?" she prompts.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt for Head Boy," Potter replies immediately. "He's got practically no competition for it. Head Girl'll be trickier, though; none of the girls stand out quite like Kingsley does with the blokes…"

"You could get it, Solveig," suggests Edgar. "You've got the grades, and you're already prefect for Ravenclaw."

Solveig shrugs. "My guess would be Hestia Jones, personally; I don't think McGonagall likes me very much, and I'm fairly sure the Deputy Headmistress's opinion carries a lot of weight for it."

"Hestia Jones?" says Black. "I don't know if she has the charisma for it. They look for leadership when choosing Heads, you know. Jones is nice, but I don't know whether people would look up to her, necessarily."

"By which you mean you wouldn't look up to her," sniggers Benjy.

Everyone laughs as Marlene agrees, "Not the best criteria for Headship, seeing as you boys don't exactly look up to anyone, except maybe the Prewetts."

"And James idolizes Evans, can't forget that," smirks Black. At this obvious cue, Potter dramatically clutches at his heart and swoons. In return, Lily merely rolls her eyes and bites back into her cone; in all likelihood, any self-defense would probably backfire in this group.

At Solveig's prompting, they leave shortly thereafter: even barring the (albeit unlikely) threat of a Death Eater attack, the atmosphere itself in the alley is unsettling. Transportation is something of a problem: they Side-Along-Apparated with Solveig, the only one of them who's of age, to the Leaky Cauldron, but their destinations are now split. Since she knows where they live, Solveig takes Elisabeth and Benjy home by Side-Along, while the Gryffindors take turns Flooing home with smaller and smaller amounts of Tom's dwindling supply of powder.

Though the day was unexpectedly painless, it's still a relief to be back at Marlene's. "Home at last," Lily tells herself contentedly after she's dusted herself off, stretching.

Shockingly enough, she's not startled when someone answers her from the hearth. "Nice, isn't it?"

Lily visibly deflates but doesn't bother turning. "Do you make it a hobby, trying to catch people off guard?"

Potter circles around, looking all too pleased with himself. "Only for you, Red," he swears, clutching at his heart like before. "Looks like you're learning to expect it."

"Yeah, well, compared to Severus, you get to be fairly predictable after a while," she counters. He only looks hurt for a moment, but hot chagrin boils in her stomach for long after.

"And you're smiling, too," persists Potter. "Does this mean I'm growing on you?"

Lily bites her lip to suppress the grin and throws herself onto Marlene's couch. "How soon will Marlene be back? Were there many people waiting behind you?"

"Oh, no, just her and Sirius—but I may have convinced them to go out for a few hours and enjoy the nice weather." He takes a seat beside her and scoots in toward her; Lily pushes him off with an index finger but chooses not to comment on his boldness.

"Since I'm sure they agree it's a bright and sunny day," she says dryly.

Potter raises his eyebrows. "What, you haven't caught on that their little on-again-off-again fling is resurfacing? They'll take any excuse to get away together, bless them."

She rests her elbows against the armrest—it's news to her. "Since when do Black and Marlene have a fling?"

"January of our fourth year," Potter divulges. (Lily gets the distinct impression he's been dying to share this with someone out of the loop for some time now.) "It was inconspicuous enough, at first; it happened right around the time his cousin, er—" He stops for a moment, clearly not wanting to betray Black's trust. "Well, anyway, it was right after a family thing, so whenever he'd sneak off—and believe me, he had the worst excuses for it—we just figured he wanted to be alone. Lord knows he was always sulking back then, and with good reason, too. He actually pulled it off for a few weeks, since we weren't checking for him on the…" He breaks off and clears his throat loudly.

"Careful, Potter," Lily laughs.

Potter cracks an easy smile. "We weren't checking his stories, wanted to give him privacy—we didn't have a clue until two months later, when Remus and Abbott, er, caught them coming out of a broom closet. Honestly, though, no one ever told you about this? They keep quiet about it, but I figured someone must have mentioned it in your dorm."

She shakes her head, shrugging. "I've always tried to be in the dorm as little as possible until—recently. Besides, Alice and Emmeline aren't the type to spread that around, and Mary—well, I guess it's uncharacteristic of Mary to keep anybody's secrets, but it seems like in this case she kept it to herself."

"Looks like she must have, or else word definitely would have circled back to you one way or another," remarks Potter. "Would that explain why you didn't suspect anything when Marlene started disappearing out of the dorm?"

"Pretty much. I mostly stay in the library until curfew, and then the common room until ten or eleven." Potter shakes his head at her, as if to ask how she lives with herself on a daily basis. "Marlene… er…"

Potter groans suddenly. "She didn't give you one of her lectures, did she?"

"Lectures?"

"Oh, you know—where she gets all dark and honest with you and tries to guilt you into doing something. She's famous for those with us, you know," he appends earnestly.

"She might have," Lily replies, self-consciously tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Anyway, she was just talking about how you all have secrets I haven't got a clue about. Her thing with Black must be one of them."

Potter blinks at me. "You all? I resemble Marlene McKinnon now?"

Uneasily, Lily generalizes, "I just mean the rest of our year in Gryffindor. You can be fairly intimidating taken together, you know." When he doesn't catch on, she continues to ramble, "You're all so… close-knit, I guess. Rarely seen fewer than four at a time. And your personalities—Mary is shallow and a bit snide, Marlene is haughty and popular, Alice seems sweet but has a competitive side like you wouldn't believe, Emmeline is quirky and unapproachable. And then you boys have this collective reputation, you and Black in particular—top of the class without even trying, Quidditch stars, legendary pranksters, hexing Slytherins and first years alike right and left—"

"Lily," says Potter intently, and she stops for breath, gasping it in.

"Sorry to go off on you like that; don't know what's gotten into me lately. This whole thing with Severus has me on edge…" Lily twiddles her thumbs and doesn't dare meet his eyes.

To her relief, he doesn't try to tilt up her chin or anything. "First of all, I'm not top of the class; that's the Ravenclaws' job, and maybe Abbott's. Last year, Gryffindor lost the Quidditch and House Cups, in part thanks to both my Chasing and those pranks you think put me on a pedestal, because no matter how invincible I seem to the student body, I'm not to the teachers, especially McGonagall. And I don't hex first years—Slytherins, yeah, but not underclassmen. That's Sirius and Peter." He heaves a sigh and slouches in his seat. "You really think we're intimidating?"

"A bit, yeah," Lily admits sheepishly, still refusing to look at him. "That's what happens when you hang around with a Slytherin all the time and then have to room with you lot. I've never been in a position to see you all at your… friendliest."

Potter sighs again. "And here I've been wondering what your problem is all year—whether you hate me irrationally or really are that pretentious."

"Pretentious?"

"You'd think you'd leave the nagging to the prefects, wouldn't you? Not that Remus does a very convincing job of it—but Abbott, at least," Potter chides lightheartedly.

Lily's blush returns, just when she thought it was starting to subside. "That's what you get for screwing with my then-best friend for five years," she mumbles. "And I still think you're unnecessarily arrogant and—and irresponsible and closed-minded and rude and immature and—"

"And here I thought we were beginning to get along," says Potter under his breath. She breaks off again, wondering whether the color in her cheeks has reached maroon yet. "If you think I'm so awful, why are you telling me all this?"

Lily finally looks up. He's kind but serious in the face, hanging onto her every word. "I don't know—I don't have anyone else to tell it to, I guess. I'm not the greatest at making new friends."

He chuckles. "You do fine at making friends, Red, but your pacing is a little off. You barely said two words to anyone all day, me included, until I show up here and you start sharing all your insecurities…"

"I don't like large groups of people," she shrugs.

"I can see that."

They lapse into silence for a while, just sitting. In the kitchen, one of the McKinnons has turned on the WWN. Lily half listens to the garbled rock, half wonders what exactly she and Potter are doing.

"You honestly think that of me, Red?" Potter finally bursts, his voice cracking at the nickname.

Lily holds his gaze for a long second. "Always," she says, and his face falls before she goes on, "but it doesn't matter so much at times like this."

The brightness returns a little to his eyes. "What matters now?"

Her breath comes out in a shudder. "It's nice having someone to talk to who—who listens, and who doesn't judge, even if he is a pigheaded toerag with nothing in common with me."

It's a backhanded compliment, but he still glows. "So from now on—"

"Don't expect us to get like this again," she warns, crossing her arms.

"It was worth a shot." Potter grins. "Don't listen to McKinnon, though. Sirius rubs off on her too much. Everyone is willing to give you a chance if you'll let go and just let us, yeah? Start with me—I'm right here, Red, I've always been right here."

Lily smiles weakly. "Thanks, Potter."

He waves it off, looking down. "I can get going before Marlene comes back. Preserve your dignity and all that."

She tilts her head, considering. "You know, Potter, I don't think I'll mind if you stay," Lily confides to him, and though she hates to admit it, his answering smile is contagious.