Nearly a month after Lily's trial, she received a letter from the Improper Use of Magic Office. It was brief, informing her that per the outcome of her hearing, she was responsible for paying the Ministry a modest sum of one thousand Galleons, due immediately upon graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Failure to pay the fine in its entirety would result in the repossession and subsequent snapping of her wand. The Ministry bids you good day, concluded the letter, as though that softened the blow.

Lily read the letter three times before the reality of her situation sank in. One thousand galleons, she thought, doing the maths in her head. That was nearly five thousand pounds.

She was completely and utterly doomed.

There was no way she would be able to scrape together enough to pay her fine by next June. As a Muggle-born student, she received a small stipend at Hogwarts that was enough to cover the cost of books and school equipment, plus a little extra for Hogsmeade weekends. But even if she saved every Knut this year, she would still owe the Ministry more than nine hundred and fifty Galleons.

Someone rapped on her bedroom door. Lily jumped and hid the letter behind her back. "Yes?" she said, trying to sound casual.

Petunia opened the door with a scowl. "You've got more post," she said, thrusting a pair of envelopes at Lily.

"Oh. Thanks."

"One of the owls put its foot in the sugar bowl," added Petunia, obviously expecting Lily to apologise for the owl's misdeeds.

Lily was not in the mood. "Well, it's an animal. You can't expect it to know that the sugar bowl is off-limits."

"I thought they were supposed to be magic," snapped Petunia.

Lily examined her nails, feigning boredom. "Maybe it did it on purpose, then."

Petunia slammed the door and stomped down the stairs.

Lily sank onto her bed, placing the letter from the Ministry gingerly at her side. One of the envelopes Petunia had given her was from Remus Lupin; the other bore a wax seal of the Hogwarts crest and was surprisingly heavy.

Lily stared at the Hogwarts crest, biting her lip. Could this be a letter from Dumbledore? He was the Chief Mugwump of the Wizengamot; he had to know that the fine the Ministry had given her was absurd. Maybe he'd written to her with a solution. Was that something he would do?

She decided to start with Remus' letter first, as it seemed exponentially safer.

Dear Lily,

I trust this letter finds you well. I was only wondering if you had received any post from Hogwarts? If not, I expect Dumbledore will be in touch soon, if you catch my drift.

Hopefully I haven't spoiled the surprise by asking. Just wanted to be the first to congratulate you — we both know you deserve it, no need to be modest!

Warmest regards,

Remus

Lily chewed her lip. How did Remus know she'd receive a letter from Hogwarts? If it was something to do with the thousand Galleon fine, how did he know about it already? She eyed the Hogwarts envelope suspiciously. She didn't know what it would be about, if not the fine. Booklists normally arrived at the end of August, and it wasn't as if she and Dumbledore regularly corresponded.

Out of habit, she slit the Hogwarts envelope open with her nails instead of using her wand. Nestled inside was a neatly-folded piece of parchment and a shining silver badge.

Lily picked up the badge, frowning. 'Head Girl' was written on it in brilliant script. Tiny gemstones encircled its edges, glittering in all four House colours: rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and topaz, from the looks of it. She couldn't help but wonder how many Galleons the jewels were worth.

Probably less than a thousand, she thought gloomily, and she turned her attention to the letter accompanying the badge.

Miss Evans, read the letter in looping, narrow writing. I hope you are well on your way to recovering from the indignities of last month's trial. It is high time that I rewarded you for your boldness, sharp thinking, and unwavering sense of justice. Please accept this badge as a token of my gratitude for all you have done for Hogwarts. There is no student, pure-blooded or otherwise, who is more deserving.

"This has to be a joke," said Lily, as though the badge could respond to her. This was Dumbledore's way of rewarding her? She would have been proud to receive the badge a month ago, but now… she'd rather have a thousand Galleons, all told. Being Head Girl sounded like more attention that she didn't want. She could practically hear the whispers from the Slytherins when they realized a Muggle-born had been made Head Girl. Would they even listen to her?

At least Remus' letter made a lot more sense now. He would be Head Boy, of course. There was no better choice. And for Dumbledore to have chosen Remus as Head Boy spoke volumes. She'd long since guessed that Remus was afflicted by lycanthropy, and her suspicions had been confirmed during her apprenticeship to Madam Pomfrey. No wonder Remus had written to her — he was probably feeling just as much pressure to succeed as she was.

Well. She gave the badge a stern look, then pinned it to her blouse. She would see to it that they were the best Heads that Hogwarts had ever seen. The castle was bound to be full of students waiting for her to fail. But they would have to keep waiting.

As the first of September drew closer, each warm summer day melted into the next; lazy mornings gave way to tranquil afternoons and cool nights curled up with a book. Lily had never been so content to spend the holidays in ordinary, carefree Cokeworth. No more owls swooped in through the kitchen window, and she didn't open the seventh-year textbooks that the befuddled postman left on her doorstep. Her wand gathered dust on her bedside table, and on the thirty-first of August, it took a few tries before she was able to charm her belongings into her trunk.

Her mum dropped her off at Cokeworth's single-platform train station that afternoon, and the subsequent the journey to London was horrifically dull. After nearly an hour of staring out the window, Lily was even bored enough to open her copy of Advanced Rune Translation. For the first time, she regretted having lost her license to Apparate.

At last, she arrived in London and settled into the small room above the Leaky Cauldron that she had rented for the night. By bedtime, she had completed a single chapter of the assigned reading for Ancient Runes and three lines of her Transfiguration essay. She wondered idly if Professor McGonagall would revoke her Head Girl badge if she was late to turn in her summer homework.

As if Potter and his mates haven't done worse, she thought, climbing into bed.

Potter. She would see him aboard the Hogwarts Express the next day, wouldn't she? The notion made her stomach flutter a little.

Just as quickly, the fluttering turned into nausea. Surely she wasn't excited to see James Potter. Not that obnoxious toerag who had teased her mercilessly for years. He was a git whose brain was so full of Quidditch facts that it wouldn't fit anything else. And somebody needed to tell him that mussing his hair didn't make it look windswept, just tangled and ridiculous.

No. She wasn't excited to see him. She was merely looking forward to being at Hogwarts again, and James was one of the people she associated with Hogwarts. That was all.

To prove this point, she tried to think of other positive aspects of Hogwarts. It was difficult.

Being Head Girl will be nice, she thought, even as her stomach knotted more tightly. She imagined standing before the four long tables of the Great Hall, feeling hundreds of eyes on her, watching her, judging. She could practically hear the whispers.

Enough. She was not going to be tormented by her own mind. "I'm going to do a great job," she said aloud to the darkened room.

"You certainly will, dearie," replied a voice, and Lily nearly jumped out of bed in fright. But no — it was only the mirror in the corner. She'd forgotten that magical items had a tendency to talk.

"It's true," she said, as though it mattered what the mirror thought of her. "And I don't give a damn about Potter."

The mirror made a sound that was unmistakably a yawn. "Whatever you say, dove."

The next morning, Lily took the Tube to King's Cross, which was bustling with activity. The crowd was mostly Muggle, though she did spot a couple of Aurors dressed not in scarlet robes but in impeccably tailored suits. They nearly passed as Muggles, except they were eying the barrier between platforms nine and ten with far too much suspicion to be mere businessmen.

Before Lily stepped through the barrier, she took a moment to gaze around King's Cross. The throng of Muggles flowed around her like a river; some people ambled towards their destination, while others hurried by. She had no idea where any of them were going, but she found herself feeling quite fond as she watched. She'd never been so reluctant to leave the Muggle world before.

What would she find upon stepping foot on platform nine and three-quarters? Had the magical world changed at all? It had been months since she'd last read the ominous headlines of the Daily Prophet. Still, even she would have heard if the war was over. The lack of news on that front could only mean that Lord Voldemort was as much of a threat as ever.

"Is everything alright, miss?" asked one of the sharply-dressed businessmen.

Lily blinked. The man's hand rested oddly on his forearm: he had his wand up his sleeve, no doubt.

"Fine," she replied, and before he could respond, she leaned into the barrier separating platforms nine and ten.

On platform nine and three-quarters, the Aurors had no need to disguise themselves; they were positioned at regular intervals along the platform, wands drawn. Lily cut a path through the throng of students — they got smaller every year, how was that possible? — and boarded the train. She ducked into an empty compartment long enough to change clothes and store her trunk, then made her way to the prefects' compartment, pinning her silver Head Girl badge to her robes.

The weight of the badge against her collarbone gave her courage. She deserved this. She wouldn't muck anything up. And if she did… well, Remus would be there to help her make things right.

She made it to the prefects' compartment just as the Hogwarts Express lurched and began to trundle away from the platform. Although the compartment was filled with eager fifth-years sporting their new badges, she had no trouble spotting Remus, who was seated near the back. Perched next to him, whispering something in his ear, was — her heart thudded uncomfortably — James Potter.

Remus spotted her before James did. The skin around his eyes crinkled affectionately as he beckoned her to join them. "Long time no see, Lily."

James nearly toppled over. "Lily! Hullo!" He stuck out a hand as if going for a handshake, then promptly retracted it and mussed his hair instead. The motion caused something on his chest to glimmer; he was wearing Remus' Head Boy badge, for some reason.

"Hi," said Lily. Her cheeks felt hot, but she had no idea why she would be blushing.

"Did you have a nice summer?" asked James. He was bursting with more energy than usual; he kept shifting position in his seat and was jiggling one leg rather violently.

"Aside from the hearing, you mean?"

"Oh!" said James, and his leg froze. "Stupid of me. I forgot. That is — I didn't actually forget, I'm not an arsehole. It — it just…"

"Slipped your mind," supplied Remus.

"Yeah." James sounded relieved that Remus had come to his aid. "The rest of your summer, was it alright?"

"It was lovely," said Lily. She gave Remus a meaningful look. "Shall we…?"

Remus blinked. "Pardon?"

"You know." Lily tapped her badge. "We ought to assign the corridor patrols, don't you think? Maybe say a few words about the upcoming year?"

Remus' mouth fell open. "That… I…" He turned accusingly to James. "You didn't tell her?"

James was bouncing his leg up and down so quickly that Lily thought it might fly off. "Erm. About that."

"About what?" she said.

James ducked his head, not meeting her eyes. "Er… Remus isn't Head Boy." He fiddled with the badge on his chest.

That didn't make any sense. "You're not?" Lily asked Remus. He exhaled heavily and gave her a pained look. She frowned. "Then who…?"

Remus jerked his head towards James, who was still adjusting the Head Boy badge.

An appalling thought occurred to Lily. She shook her head. "No."

"As a matter of fact," began James in a very small voice.

Her response was sharp. "As a matter of fact what."

He swallowed hard. "I might be — Dumbledore might have…" Words failed him, and he gestured uselessly at the silver badge pinned to his robes. "I'm, er, Head Boy?"

Lily took a step backwards. "That's not funny." She looked towards Remus, hoping he would tell her it was all a terrible prank. "It isn't funny, Remus."

For someone who was in on the joke, there was a surprising lack of humour in Remus' voice. "That was my initial reaction as well, yes."

Lily realized with dawning horror that the badge on James' chest might not be a prank. "Oh, my God. You're serious. Dumbledore actually made you Head Boy."

James had the audacity to smile at her. It was frightfully disarming. "Looks like it," he said, and after a moment's hesitation, he extended a hand. "I look forward to our partnership, Li—"

This was awful. It was bad enough that her stupid heart flip-flopped whenever he was around, but this — this would ruin everything.

She grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him to his feet. "We need to talk. Now."

She pulled James by the wrist and marched past Remus, ignoring the alarmed look on his face. The other prefects must have sensed that she was perfectly willing to barrel into them, because they parted before her without hesitation. It was a little disappointing; she would have liked to step on a foot or two.

There was a toilet in the corridor that separated the prefects' compartment from the rest of the train. Lily pushed James inside, then followed.

"Alright." She locked the door and turned around. There was barely enough room in the toilet for both of them, which would have been distracting at the best of times. As things stood, it was terribly inconvenient that he was so close when she was absolutely infuriated with him.

She crossed her arms, refusing to lean away from him; she wasn't about to let him see her discomfort. "Remus told you I was Head Girl, didn't he?"

James was stooped over so as not to hit the ceiling. His face was inches from her own. "Er," he said, looking alarmed. "He might have mentioned it, yeah…"

Lily nearly exploded with anger. "Why didn't you tell me you were Head Boy?! You let me think it was Remus! Didn't so much as send an owl, did you, nothing to say, 'hi Lily, just a heads up, we'll be seeing quite a lot of each other from now on —' "

"I thought about it!" he said defensively.

"Oh, brilliant," she said. "That's even better. You thought about informing me, but then decided against it, because God forbid I have any warning —"

James let out a frustrated groan and ran a hand through his hair. "That's not it at all!"

"That so? How is it, then?"

"Well," he said weakly, "I tried to write to you, I really did — must have started a dozen letters. But… I kept losing my nerve, I guess."

Lily snorted. "Some Gryffindor you are. So you decided it was better to surprise me on the train? And in front of all the prefects, no less. God knows they barely respect me already, and now…" She ran out of air and had to remind herself to breathe. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Er. I dunno."

"I don't believe that for an instant. You chose not to write to me. Didn't you?"

James cast a longing look over Lily's shoulder, towards the door, as if wishing he could bolt through it. "Yeah, I guess. You really want the truth?"

"Of course I do."

"Of course you do," he repeated weakly. "Alright, then. Erm. I suppose I didn't write because… well, because I thought you'd react, er. Like this."

Like a candle being snuffed, Lily's anger vanished. She felt drained and a little embarrassed. "Oh."

James regarded her with apprehension, as though she were a bomb about to explode. "Don't get me wrong — I'd hoped you'd be happy to hear that we'd be, erm, working together this year. But I also knew you'd probably get upset."

"James. I'm not angry that you're Head Boy."

"You're sure about that? You nearly blew the windows out of the prefect's carriage…"

"I'm angry that you didn't tell me. I hate being lied to —"

"— I would never lie to you —"

"You were dishonest and you know it. You kept this from me on purpose. If I'd gotten a letter from you over the summer, I would have been…" Thrilled. Why was that the first word that came to her mind? "I would have been happy for you. Really."

"Rubbish. You would've sent me a Howler!"

"I would not have done." If only because the post office in Cokeworth didn't sell those. "If you'd written to me about it, I would've been… surprised, honestly. But after the initial shock, I think I would've been glad to have you as Head Boy."

He clearly didn't believe her. "You don't look very glad right now."

"That's because I'm peeved at you. Springing it on me like you did — on the train, at the last minute — that puts us in a bit of a bind, doesn't it?"

"How do you mean?"

Boys. Were they always this clueless? "Remember our deal over the summer?"

"The one where we agreed to piss Snape off by pretending to date? Of course. What about it?"

"Well, I'd thought it would be an occasional thing! You know, we'd sit together at dinner, you'd carry my books for me from time to time, I'd make a rare appearance at your post-Quidditch parties…"

"A rare appearance? You always come to my parties, you love them. Everyone does."

"I do not. And even if I did, that's beside the point. Do you see what I'm saying?"

James' thick eyebrows drew together. "Er. No?"

"Oh, my God," said Lily. She really did have to spell everything out for him. "Being Heads together means we'll have to pretend that we're dating more often. As in, all the time. Because we're going to be seeing an awful lot of each other from now on."

James shrugged. "That's fine by me."

Lily scrutinized his face, which was difficult to do in the dimly lit toilet. He really didn't look bothered by the idea. She, on the other hand, didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Spending more time with James Potter would be terrible, obviously. But if that was the case, then why did she feel excited about it?

"If you truly don't mind…"

"I don't," said James. "This might work in our favour, actually. People will probably think it's cute that the Head Boy and Girl are dating. Makes us seem more credible."

"Right," she said, nonplussed. "Well, if you really don't mind, then I suppose it's fine. I'm, er, sorry for losing my temper." She was suddenly grateful for the dim light. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire, but hopefully he couldn't tell. "It was just… unexpected. And then I realized we'd have to pretend all the time, in front of everyone, even Professor McGonagall. I got a little… overwhelmed, I guess."

"That's understandable," said James. "I'm sorry for making you think it would be Remus. You're right that I shouldn't have kept this from you. I don't blame you for… going off a bit."

He sounded completely sincere. Lily resisted the temptation to stare at him, lest he misinterpret it as interest. Who was this person in front of her, who freely admitted to wrong-doing? It certainly couldn't be James Potter. He was an arrogant prat who couldn't self-reflect if his life depended on it.

Wasn't he?

"Well, I'm feeling a bit calmer now," she said, smoothing her robes. "Shall we go back to the prefect's carriage?"

"Sure," said James. "Want me to hold your hand on the way in?"

Lily thought her eyes might pop out of her head. "No — that isn't — just because we're going to pretend, that doesn't mean we need to start now —"

James laughed. "Relax, Lily. I'm only joking."

"Ha-ha," she managed, though her voice sounded strangled.

James leaned around her to unlock the door of the toilet. "I'm quite looking forward to being Head Boy, actually. Let's make the fifth-year prefects do all the patrolling while we sit back and eat sweets off the trolley. What say you?"

Lily followed him out of the toilet, feeling slightly dizzy. James Potter was Head Boy. And he'd agreed without hesitation that they continue to pretend to date. Their plan wasn't a big deal to him, likely because he no longer had any feelings for her.

She wished she could be as nonchalant about it. But judging by the way her heart beat like a drum whenever he was close… whenever his eyes met hers…

God. She fancied James Potter, didn't she?

As soon as she'd had the horrible notion, she knew it was true. It would have been funny if it weren't so awful.

I'm pretending to fancy a bloke I actually fancy, she thought. And to make matters worse, that bloke was James Potter. The James Potter, the boy who had pulled her hair when they were eleven and pinched her bra strap when they were twelve. She'd rather lust after the Giant Squid. And why did she only fancy James after he'd outgrown his childhood crush on her?

Brilliant timing, Lily, she thought. Well done, honestly.

Remus hated to admit it, but James was likely going to be a very good Head Boy.

He'd been concerned after Lily had whisked James away on the Hogwarts Express, presumably either to row with him or snog him senseless, neither of which boded well. But his worry had been misplaced; James and Lily had returned not ten minutes later and had given the prefects a rousing speech.

It was odd to see them working together. Odder still was the fact that James had actually done well, without any prodding from Lily. Remus had never thought he'd hear the words 'duty to Hogwarts' and 'grand responsibility' leave James' mouth, yet he'd said all that and more. And the other prefects had listened. Hung on to James' every word, in fact.

Though watching them had stung a bit, overall Remus felt better about not being Head Boy. He'd had nearly two months to come to terms with it, and the truth of the matter was that he made a better follower than leader. He couldn't have pulled a speech out of his arse the way James had done, and even if he had, the prefects wouldn't have listened nearly as attentively; he didn't have the same charisma as James.

It was hard to feel bitter, anyway, as the Hogwarts Express wound its familiar route through the Scottish Highlands. Even though his bones ached — the full moon was two nights ago, and it still hurt to move — Remus was content. More than content: he was happy. He was returning to the place he loved the most. The place he and his friends knew better than anyone else, where every nook and cranny held a joyful memory. Remus was not, generally speaking, a happy person, but he was happy at Hogwarts.

I'm returning for the last time, he thought, because of course his brain would spoil the mood. It's the last year. It'll all be over after this.

He shook his head a little, willing the gloomy thoughts away. The train swayed gently beneath his aching feet, grounding him. He was happy. He was returning home.

At the Welcoming Feast, he sat beside Sirius at the Gryffindor table. Sirius, of course, wasted no time in regaling the other Gryffindors with exaggerated tales of his exploits over the summer, a drumstick in one hand and bits of potato spewing out of his mouth. If half of his stories were true, Remus didn't believe it.

"And that," said Sirius grandly, "was the moment I landed in the poor girl's lap. Well, I say girl — she was part Veela, turns out. Half-Veela, at least, because —"

"Manners, Padfoot," said Remus as a bit of potato landed on his plate.

Sirius winked at him, then continued with his tale. Remus was only half-listening; he was fairly certain he'd heard this story before, and it ended with —

"That's when I felt something burning, so I looked down, right. And what would you know —"

"Was it the clap?" asked Peter. Remus snorted.

"It most certainly was not the clap," said Sirius. "The bird set my pants on fire!"

"Not your Puddlemere United boxers, I hope," said Peter.

"As a matter of fact…" said Sirius.

James, who was sandwiched between Sirius and Lily, interjected. "It better not have been your Puddlemere United boxers! I had to special order those!"

"Sorry, mate," said Sirius. "It was a necessary sacrifice."

"That's the last time I get you a Christmas gift, you wanker," said James. "Five points from Gryffindor."

"The term hasn't even started yet, you can't take points —"

"Make that six." James stretched his arms behind his head and winked at Lily. "I think I love being Head Boy."

"And I think you're drunk on power," she replied. James laughed, but instead of looking gratified, a peculiar expression crossed Lily's face. She looked strangely sad.

That was odd. Why would she be upset that she had made James laugh? Remus hoped they weren't having relationship problems already.

The table erupted in guffaws; Sirius had apparently reached the punch line of his story. James put his hands around Lily's shoulders, whispering something in her ear, and she smiled a little.

That was promising, at least. Maybe Remus had been wrong about Lily and James having problems.

Remus John Lupin, you nosy bastard, he thought. Stop being suspicious of your friends' happiness. Things are allowed to be good, you know.

That reminded him — what was it that Sirius had said over the summer? Something about Dumbledore having big plans for Remus. The thought had been laughable at the time, but now... he let himself hope it was true. He was back at Hogwarts, eating exquisite food while surrounded by friends who he loved. Why shouldn't he be hopeful?

Peter nudged him. "Yes?" said Remus, trying to sound as if he hadn't been lost in his own mind again.

"Who's that sitting beside Professor Kettleburn?" asked Peter.

Remus followed his gaze. At the staff table, Professor Kettleburn had one arm in a sling — what had the poor man done now? — and was using his good arm to saw through a slab of steak. Next to him was —

Remus gulped.

Next to Professor Kettleburn was a stunningly attractive man who Remus could only assume was their newest Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He appeared to be in his early thirties, with long auburn hair gathered in a low ponytail and pale, freckled skin. He wore a stylish, dark purple tunic beneath his robes, and a matching violet scarf encircled his neck.

As though he sensed Remus watching him, the man's eyes flicked towards the Gryffindor table. Even at this distance, his irises were a piercing blue.

Remus ducked his head, avoiding the man's gaze. "I expect that's our Defence professor, isn't it?" he said to Peter.

"Who's our new Defence professor?" asked James, and Remus tilted his chin towards the staff table.

"I don't believe it," said Sirius, ogling the man from afar. "That bloke? He looks like he belongs on the cover of Witch Weekly. No way he's qualified to teach Defence."

"Maybe he's part Veela," said Peter. "You've got experience with that, Padfoot, can you tell…?"

Lily snorted. "Men can't be Veela, Peter. And you lot had better stop staring before he decides to take points."

"If he does, I'll give us points back later, so don't worry," said James, and she swatted him on the arm.

"You do think he's attractive, don't you, Wondergirl?" said Sirius. "If even I want to shag him, then surely you…"

Lily's flushed. "I am not having this conversation with you."

"I don't think he's attractive," called Marlene from further down the table.

"You might be the only one," said Sirius. He cast another look at the staff table, shaking his head bemusedly. "Poor bloke. Should've never taken the job."

"Why's that?" asked James.

"Every girl older than thirteen is going to fall in love with him, won't they?" said Sirius. "It's his first teaching job, if I had to guess. He must be naive, didn't realize that hormones run rampant in this castle… Bet he won't last till December."

"He isn't that good-looking," objected Peter.

"Yeah," said James. He scrunched up his face as he scrutinized the new professor. "I mean, if I squint, I can sort of see it, but…"

"Don't underestimate the power of teenage girls," Lily warned. "Remember Professor Cresswell, in our fourth year? We were all in love with him, even Marlene. And he was nowhere near as good-looking as this one is."

"Us handsome wizards have a rough go of it," said Sirius with a sigh. "There's so few of us, you know…"

"Oh, piss off," said James.

Remus spooned a second helping of potatoes onto his plate, saying nothing. Defence had always been his favourite subject, despite the revolving roster of teachers. Most previous Defence professors had never realized he had an affinity for the subject, though that may have been due to their own lack of expertise. This professor would likely be no different. That was fine by him, as he preferred to stay under the radar. It was safer that way.

All the same, Remus found himself quite looking forward to their first Defence lesson.

At the Slytherin table on the other end of the Great Hall, Severus Snape had lost his appetite.

He had been certain that Lily Evans and James Potter would break up over the summer holidays. It was why he hadn't come to her hearing before the Wizengamot, even though he had been summoned. He'd hoped she would be grateful that he didn't show up, that she'd be thinking about him… that after she dropped Potter like the loser he was, she'd turn to him for comfort. He'd wanted to believe that their relationship was a fling, that after a couple of bad dates — of course the dates would be bad, it was Potter, after all — Lily would come to her senses and return to Severus, who would be waiting with open arms.

Obviously, that hadn't happened. Severus had been forced to consider the possibility that Lily wanted nothing to do with him. Perhaps their relationship really had been broken for good.

That realization had been painful, yet it was mild compared to the current agony that faced him. Lily and James were still together after an entire summer. And to make matters worse, they looked happy.

They certainly weren't being subtle about things, either. Severus could see them, all the way at the other end of the Great Hall, bantering with each other. He could tell by the twist of Lily's mouth that she'd just said something witty; James had the nerve to put one hand on her back, the other covering his eyes as he laughed.

Severus gritted his teeth. Even at this distance, it was easy to see the candlelight reflecting off the badge on James' chest. Dumbledore had made him Head Boy, to nobody's surprise: the old fool had always treated Gryffindor house with blatant favouritism. It was more shocking that the Headmaster hadn't yet erected a statue of James in the Entrance Hall for finding Sally Dearborn.

The badge on James' chest glittered as he gesticulated; it was hypnotizing, like watching the swing of a pendulum. Severus forced himself to avert his gaze and took a dour bite of mushy peas. If this was the start of his seventh year at Hogwarts, he hated to think how the rest of it would go.

Someone slid into the seat across from him, blocking James and Lily from sight. "Hello, Severus," said Regulus Black. "Enjoying the view?"

Severus took his time swallowing before he responded. "Not anymore."

"You're welcome." Regulus plucked a roll from the bread basket and began to nibble on it.

Severus watched him suspiciously. He and Regulus hadn't exactly been on good terms the last time they'd spoken. Severus had still been upset that Regulus had hidden Sally Dearborn and kept it a secret from him. 'Upset' was putting it mildly, perhaps; he may or may not have attempted to curse Regulus. Several times, in fact. Yet here Regulus was, picking at a bread roll, apparently totally at ease.

"Yes?" asked Regulus after a moment. "You're staring."

"Apologies," muttered Severus, and though he wasn't hungry, he took another bite of mushy peas. "Did you have a purpose in sitting here, or…?"

"Oh, yes, actually," said Regulus. "Bella wanted me to pass on a message."

Severus' heartbeat quickened. "Which is…?"

"She doesn't want us to bother her. Well, she worded it a bit more strongly than that, but that was the gist of it. She'll be out of the country on business for a while, apparently, and will murder us if she's called back to 'clean up more of our messes.'" He made air quotes with his fingers.

Out of the country? Perhaps the Dark Lord had more ambition than Severus had realized. "Well, staying out of her hair will be easy enough," he said. "Seeing as there is no 'us.'"

"Really?" said Regulus. "That's a shame. She was going to have you lead the Followers this year, but if you're not keen…"

Severus extinguished the spark of excitement that threatened to lift his mood. "Don't be cute, Regulus. What Followers?" He gestured at the rest of the Slytherin table. "In case you haven't noticed, there's only me and you. Mulciber's been expelled, and the rest have graduated."

"What about Edmund?"

Severus glanced down the table, where Edmund Avery was arranging the steamed vegetables on his plate to form a smiling face. "Edmund Avery's brain has been scrambled."

"You scrambled it." If it had been anyone else, Regulus' tone would have sounded accusing.

Severus closed his eyes briefly. He might be irredeemable, but he still had some sense of shame. "What happened to Avery was… not my intention."

"He's your responsibility. And I'm your responsibility, too."

"Is that so?"

"You recruited me," said Regulus simply. "And you broke Avery's mind. Now we need a mentor — and who better than you?"

Severus didn't like how Regulus was twisting the job of mentoring the Followers. He made it sound like it was a debt Severus ought to pay, instead of a reward Severus had earned. "And if I refuse?"

"You won't. You've always wanted to be our mentor. Haven't you?" A corner of Regulus' mouth lifted. Severus loathed when he smiled like that; it made him look too confident. Too much like his brother.

"I'll consider it," said Severus. "Why don't the three of us meet in Dungeon Thirteen tonight? Midnight. We'll talk it over then."

Regulus finished the last of his roll, then brushed the crumbs from his fingers. "Fine by me. I'll speak to Edmund about it."

After the Welcome Feast, Severus went directly to Dungeon Thirteen without stopping to deposit his belongings in the Slytherin dormitory. The room was dark and cold, with an air of neglect; there were five empty phials on the table, and several chairs lay at angles on the floor. He suspected nobody had entered the room since the previous year, on the disastrous night when Sally had been discovered.

Severus Vanished the phials and straightened the chairs, then sat on the pristine, white couch by the hearth, his chin in his hands. He raised his wand and lit an emerald fire, casting the room in greenish light.

The flames were surprisingly cold. He watched the fire dance in the hearth a while, wondering if Bella would step through. But nobody emerged from the emerald flames, and eventually Severus was forced to admit that perhaps Regulus knew what he was talking about.

This was perhaps his hollowest victory yet. For so long he'd dreamed of leading the Followers, of proving his worth. He'd thought it would secure his position among the Dark Lord's ranks after Hogwarts. But now? Did it even matter? According to Regulus, Bella didn't give a damn what Severus did or didn't do, so long as he didn't bother her about it.

As he peered into the fire, a thought occurred to him. Perhaps there was a bright side to the situation. If Bella wanted them to leave her alone… perhaps that meant their future as Followers was already set in stone. Perhaps the Dark Lord was planning to Mark them upon graduation from Hogwarts, and nothing they did this year could alter that. Barring any obvious blunders, of course.

The more Severus thought about it, the more certain he became. The Dark Lord was going to Mark them. They didn't need to prove their worth any further.

The notion was surprisingly freeing.

Regulus and Avery joined him several hours later. Regulus gave Severus an ironic little bow, then took a seat in the armchair opposite Severus. Avery copied Regulus' bow, giggling.

Severus nodded at Avery. "Edmund. How was your summer?"

"Brilliant," said Avery, bouncing on the sofa. "My mum bought me a cat, but then it died, so she got me an owl, but then it died. Then she got me a Grindylow, and that one hasn't died yet. Couldn't bring it to Hogwarts, though," he added with a pout.

"Shame," said Severus, who shuddered at the thought of Avery keeping a pet Grindylow in their dormitory. "Well, now that you're here, I'll get straight to business."

"Are we killing anyone this year?" asked Avery excitedly.

"I'm afraid not," said Severus. Avery stuck out his bottom lip, disappointed.

"It's really for the best, Edmund," said Regulus. "We weren't very good at the whole murdering business, anyway."

"Lamentably," said Severus. "We'll be employing a different strategy this year."

"Torturing?" guessed Avery.

"Not quite," said Severus. "The strategy of which I speak is called prudence."

Avery cocked his head, clearly unfamiliar with the word. "Prudence?"

"It means we keep our head down," said Severus. "The Dark Lord plans to Mark us once we graduate Hogwarts. In the meantime, we need only to refrain from drawing his ire."

Avery was visibly struggling to keep up. "So no killing."

"Or torturing," said Regulus.

Avery stuck out his tongue. "Sounds boring."

"Boring is good," responded Severus.

Regulus cocked his head. "Out of curiosity, Sev. There are a few Slytherins in my year who've heard about… our little group. They're interested in becoming Followers. Would you consider…?"

"No," said Severus. "No more Followers. They'll be eager to prove themselves, which will only complicate things. Unlike Mulciber, I'm hoping to actually complete my education at Hogwarts."

Regulus looked relieved. "That's… good. Alright."

"We'll stick together, of course," said Severus. "We ought to meet at least once a week to check in with one another. I might be able to come up with some… bonding activities… that won't get us expelled if we're discovered."

The emerald fire cast shadows in the hollows of Regulus' cheeks as he smiled. "And here I thought I was the sensible one. When did you become so dull?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I escaped expulsion by the skin of my teeth last year — no thanks to you, might I add. Let's try not to repeat the experience."

A/N: Any guesses who this new Defence professor might be? :)

Also, fun fact: 5,000 pounds in 1978 is 29,000 pounds today, or 41,000 dollars. Can you say Lily is screwed?