Chapter Thirteen: Dinner with the Dursleys

Severus Snape was no fool.

His thoughts, dark and full of despair, often held these words. He had been told, ever since he was a young boy, that emotions were a sign of weakness, and only fools showed weakness.

Severus Snape was no fool.

And yet, as he swung aimlessly on the swings near his childhood home in the uninviting street that was Spinner's End, he had been foolish enough to think that his mother had finally wanted him back home. He had been foolish enough to think that his father wanted to make amends, and he had been foolish enough to believe that there was a chance for the family – his family – a chance that they would try again, and patch the holes that made up Severus's soul.

Lies are hard to tell through parchment. Lily had once told him.

The house was empty. Had been for a long time, he had realized. Shards of glass – remnants of his father's old bottles, no doubt – lay strewn about the two small rooms, and, if Severus closed his eyes long enough, he thought he could remember the muffled screams that had plagued his nights for so long, that had caused him to cry and weep to God (though he did not know who He was) that his mother be saved, that had caused him to pray to Merlin that his father hit his own head and never wake up.

So why did my parents want me to come back home?

There was no note. A layer of dust about a quarter of an inch thick coated the floor and the tables, and the moth-eaten curtains fell apart at the slightest breeze – and yet, he could not bring himself to leave. It was better, after all, than being in the Slytherin common room, better than having to listen to the woes of his classmates, being reminded once again that he was a permanent part of them now.

You're going to be a brilliant Death Eater, Sev, Mulciber had once said to him, his face flushed with envy.

Yes, Severus thought privately then, I know I will. I'll be the greatest Death Eater of them all.

But did he really want to?

Did he really want to dedicate himself to that? A life of death and prejudice, a life that, according to the Dark Lord, would bring about happiness and peace in the wizarding world?

A life that took everything from me. A life that took her away from me, right when she was close.

Severus Snape was a fool.

He remembered his mother's wand – now broken in two, its shaft eaten away by termites and its core so magically dull there was not a spark in the unicorn hair. It lay now upstairs, in the topmost drawer of the wooden cabinet in his parents' room, rejected and unused, for his mother had made that choice long ago when she married his father.

Severus recalled having thought many times that had his mother used her wand, she could have gotten them both out of their horrible situation. She could have saved him. She could have saved herself.

The wand chooses the wizard, after all. Ollivander had that said to him long ago.

His mother had rejected the wand, and the wand had willingly complied; there was not a trace of magic in it now, and he thought, if his mother was still healthy and not in the chains that were his father's words, that she would have neither the memory nor the will to utter the simplest spells.

He had been taught long ago that love was tough. Eileen Snape may have loved – he was sure she had loved, for she had had him, had she not? – but she had since abandoned him, and their home at Spinner's End, and their memories together. Her broken wand, the only thing she hadn't taken with her, served as a reminder to him that there was not a person in the world that loved him.

She loved you, he whispered to himself, she loved you – and you ruined it.

You fool.

And yet she seemed happy these days, thought Severus. Far happier than she had looked in her earlier years at Hogwarts; then again, he had always kept her close to him, and he knew he brought about an aura of gloominess and depression. She was happy, he reminded himself, with Potter.

He had gotten her, in the end. The very same arrogant toerag that had once tripped him in the Hogwarts Express. The very same arrogant toerag that, not too long ago, had cursed him with Severus's own spell. The very same arrogant toerag that Lily had rebuffed, time and time again, saying that she would rather go out with the giant squid.

And look where he is now. Arrogant toerag no more, right Lily? He's better than the giant squid, right Lily?

Right, Lily?

Her voice did not speak out to him. It had not spoken to him for many years now, and his heart ached with such fierce longing he just wanted it to blacken, and to turn to stone, like everything else in him had.

Love is for fools. The Dark Lord's unspoken message sounded out to him, and to all the Death Eaters. There was no place for love in his new world.

And there was no place, either, for Lily Evans, he thought amusedly. Oh, how he'd lied to her, saying that the Dark Lord wouldn't care…

There was a sudden crack that filled his ears and made him jump slightly. A figure, clad in black, fancy robes, stumbled about, glancing around and looking very out of place in the dreary street.

Severus's insides filled with rage; a feeling he had grown accustomed to, an emotion he used to fuel his magic. What was he doing here, of all places? He drew his wand without a second thought, pointed it straight at James Potter, and the curse was already at the tip of his tongue –

"You prat!"

A voice, exasperated and yet delighted, rang out suddenly, and his throat closed up; for a moment, he thought the words had been directed at him, but when he peeked through the bushes, he saw Lily Evans running along the pavement, laughing and beaming as though she had just received the best news in the world.

"I told you that you needed to Apparate… inside… what in Merlin's name are you wearing?"

He saw James Potter sputter out an incomprehensible explanation, he saw Lily shake her head disbelievingly, and he heard her say loudly, "Well, it doesn't matter now, does it? We're going to be late, you git, get a move on!"

He saw them leave, their hands clasped together as they braved on the cold December wind. He saw her glance across the river, towards where he knew was his house, and his heart tightened. He saw her turn around, frowning at the hedge that hid Severus, and for a moment he couldn't breathe, it was as though she had sensed him, but that was impossible, there was no way he could be seen in the darkness…

She turned on her heel and marched off with James. Severus's heart twisted and became cold.

I am a fool.

She would never see him now. She was like a light, Lily was, shining brightly, and he was nought but a moth, drawn ever-closely…

And now she was gone. In her eyes, he was the one that disappeared, and he would never be able to warm himself again. Once again, darkness, of a literal kind this time, had taken her from him.

I am a fool.

After all, mused Severus, it was hard to see in the dark.

Cokeworth wasn't all that bad, James could admit that.

Neat rows of similar-looking houses lined the sides of the street, and James and Lily trudged through the snow-covered pavement towards where he presumed was Lily's house. Her gloved hand felt warm against his wrist as he was pulled forwards, bemused and slightly angry at Sirius and Marlene.

Lily kept glancing back and appeared to be stifling her laughter as she took in the sight of him. He could not blame her; as they passed the houses, several people had given him a double-take, and one lady had actually gaped at him very obviously with a bewildered look on her face.

So much for exotic. He would have a little chat with Marlene later.

They stopped in front of an ordinary, fair-sized house with a rather large amount of Christmas lights stuck to the roof. Lily rapped her knuckles on the door and they both waited as the people inside shuffled about.

James took the time to properly look at her. Physically, she looked the same to him – her pale face, with rosy cheeks that blew puffs of cold mist in the air whenever she breathed; her hair, long and straight and red, with bits of snow forming a sort of crown at the top; and those intense eyes, green and enchanting, just as he remembered them.

In short, she looked beautiful to him. She always had. And yet – there was something different about seeing her in the Muggle world, without all her schoolbooks weighing her down or her robes disguising her body. He found himself staring at her, and when Lily noticed she stuck her tongue out at him as the door finally opened and out poked Howard Evans's head.

He smiled widely at them both. "Hello, we were just wondering when you were arriving! Come in, come in…"

The inside of the house was so familiar and yet so very alien to him he felt dizzy. It was exactly as he had imagined it; it wasn't grand or marvellous like Hogwarts, nor was it overwhelming and intimidating like Potter Manor. It was, he felt, exactly what a home should look and feel like: warm and cosy.

"Lily? Is that you, dear? Shouldn't you be – oh my."

A red-haired woman entered the room right then; she stared at James as though she had never seen a sight quite as strange as him, and then promptly turned away, her face very red and her hand over her mouth.

He suddenly felt very self-conscious. Robes, apparently, were not what Muggles wore to special occasions – he was right stupid, if only he'd remembered what Remus had told him all those years ago, he wouldn't be in this ridiculous predicament…

No, Prongs. Suits aren't only for show, Muggles actually wear them to fancy occasions.

He recalled having made a face. But they look dreadful, Moony! Dress-robes look much better, don't you think? Or vests, like the one Slughorn wears. Vests look cool.

Remus had rolled his eyes. Then you can, by all means, go ahead and start looking like Slughorn, since he looks cool.

He wished he had Slughorn's sense of style. Lily gave him one last knowing look and disappeared along with her mother, which left him in the sitting room with Papa Evans.

Mr Evans gestured towards the seats, where they were arranged in a sort of U-shape surrounding a large, black box – a television, he remembered as Sirius's textbook came floating to his mind.

"Tea?" offered Mr Evans. "We know you're in a hurry, but the place isn't far and you're probably very cold in those, er – robes? – so a bit of tea should warm you up."

James bit his tongue from saying that most dress-robes these days held a Temperature-Adjusting Charm and nodded politely. Mr Evans left a moment later.

He looked around. There were various photos – non-magical, mind you – of Lily and who he assumed was Petunia. From what he could gather, he thought they appeared quite close, and not at all like the hostile demon Lily had described her as. On the coffee table was the only bit of magic present in the house: a moving picture book, Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland.

The three Evanses appeared a short while later, carrying cups and a teapot set on a tray. Lily had changed her outfit; she wore now a long coat and had a scarlet-and-gold scarf wrapped comfortably around her neck.

Looking very ordinary, and not at all magic-like, James reminded himself. He took his cup with thanks and sipped it quietly.

The atmosphere of the room, it felt to him, was slightly awkward. Lily smirked at him teasingly over her cup and Mrs Evans hummed absently to herself. He felt very out-of-place, like some intruder in a normal family gathering.

"So how're you, James?" asked Mrs Evans.

"I'm all right," responded James automatically, "A bit nervous for the evening, though."

She actually laughed at that. "Anyone would be with those two."

"You are, James, if I'm not mistaken, Head Boy?" said Mr Evans.

"Yes, I'm a boy – I mean, Head Boy," said James anxiously, running a hand through his hair. "Blimey, I'm really sorry. I'm a nervous wreck."

To his surprise, all three Evanses laughed at that. They discussed other light topics, merely to pass the time, he thought, but also to make him feel more welcome. He began to feel the ice slowly melt as he talked more and more, and by the time he'd emptied his cup he decided he liked Lily's parents.

After what felt like an hour but was probably only five minutes, Lily announced that they really should be going soon and stood up. Mr and Mrs Evans, as well as James, followed suit. Mr Evans handed her some sort of key and they all followed her outside.

"Are we taking a Portkey?" asked James.

Lily shook her head. "I'm driving us there. I think any demonstration of magic will have ruined the evening long before it even began."

"Fair point."

She kissed her parents on the cheek and went towards her car. James bowed his head and shook their hands; he didn't know why, but they made him nervous, which was silly because they were probably really good people. James entered the seat next to Lily; in no time, the car had started, and then they were pulling out of her house, and then she rolled her window down.

"Bye!" said Lily as she waved at her parents. "We'll see you soon."

Her parents stood side-by-side, waving merrily at them, and suddenly James saw himself in the scene, he saw himself as Mr Evans, his arm around Lily. His eyes widened slightly – what in Merlin's name was he thinking? He hadn't even graduated yet, it was much too early to be thinking about that sort of thing…

Lily punched a button on the radio and he soon relaxed and forgot about it, for he realized that being in a car wasn't so bad. It was probably the Led Zeppelin that was calming him, though.

They pulled into the car park at half-past seven. Even though most of the place was shielded by the other vehicles, Lily still felt out-of-place.

They were obviously in a very nice part of the town, a place where she would never have dreamed of going to when she was a child. Big houses and flats, the kind in which most people dreamed of growing up. The restaurant itself was already very grand and extravagant; secluded among the trees on one of Birmingham's most exclusive streets, it had two stories, and people in fancy suits and expensive dresses kept entering and exiting like flies. Even from the car park, she could hear the sound of pompous talk and tinkling laughter coming from inside the restaurant.

"Should I transfigure my clothes?" asked James uneasily. "I really don't want to give anyone reason to bother us."

"It's fine," said Lily dismissively. "The people here are so stuck up their own arses they'll probably think that it's a new trend. I'd be surprised if you don't incite a new era of so-called fashion."

James laughed nervously. They made their way towards the brightly-lit building, its high arched windows arranged in such a way it looked to Lily like a pair of leering eyes. They entered the doors, where a waitress greeted them politely after she said her name and didn't so much as spare James's robes a second look. They followed her through a foyer with large chandeliers glinting intimidatingly up above in the high ceiling; her snow-filled boots made faint patterns in the polished wood floor that the waitress scrunched her nose to.

The waitress led them towards a table labelled Reserved near one of the windows. There they waited.

"I don't think this place accepts Galleons, Lil," said James, his hand grasping at his breast pocket where they made a slight jingling noise; the sound of a pocket full of gold.

"No, I don't think so either," said Lily dryly. "Don't worry about paying, I've got it."

"That's… not what I meant."

Whatever she might have said immediately died in her throat, for the waitress had returned, followed by two people: one was skinny, with a very long neck; the other, so fat and beefy she was surprised he had fit through the doors.

The waitress placed two menus on the table and left it at that. She nudged James with her foot and they both stood up, pasting fake smiles on to their faces and extending their hands as the rather unsightly couple sat down across them.

"You must be the wal – er –" James winced slightly, for Lily had stomped on his toes under the table, "Terribly sorry, I've got a sore throat. You must be Vernon Dursley. I'm James Potter, pleasure to meet you."

Vernon Dursley took one look at his long, spindly fingers and sniffed in disdain. He reluctantly shook it, looking as though every second that his and James's hands met caused him excruciating pain.

Lily smiled tiredly at her sister. "Tuney. I'm glad you came."

"As am I." But she did not appear as though she was. She did not return her smile, and when Lily asked her what she wanted to order she merely shrugged impassively.

"Well, I already know what I want to order," announced Vernon rather loudly. "The scallops and caviar sauce, Petunia m'dear, is a bit of a popular dish in this place."

James looked at the menu, frowning disapprovingly. She wondered what that was about; surely he wanted to order something? She was about to ask him, but then he handed her the menu.

The leather-bound cover felt strangely unfamiliar in her hands. She scanned the list of food, trying to comprehend why a simple white-sauced spaghetti could cost £20. She flipped the pages; surely there was a kids' menu somewhere?

Vernon had signalled the previous waitress. She made her way over to them, carrying a notepad and a pen, and she stopped in front of the table, looking at them expectantly.

"We'll have the scallops, with caviar sauce," said Vernon, gesturing at himself and Petunia. The waitress jotted down the order and turned to Lily.

"I'll have a plate of fish and chips, please," said James.

"I think I'll have that, too," said Lily queasily.

The waitress nodded, looking bored. She scribbled down the orders and was about to leave when Vernon suddenly said, rather loudly, "You're not going to ask for our ruddy drinks? They said this place was the best there is, you know!"

Lily glared at him; even Petunia looked uncomfortable. The last thing she wanted was to cause a scene, but this man… lucky for her, James reached out a hand and rubbed it soothingly across hers.

The waitress mumbled an apology, looking quite terrified as the large, beefy walrus berated her, criticizing everything from her posture to the way she held her notepad. He then rattled off the names to some complicated-sounding wines, which surprised Lily. He didn't strike her as someone who could pronounce French, or even coherent English, for that matter.

An uncomfortable silence ensued once the waitress had left. Vernon was eyeing James with a nasty look on his face, perhaps noticing that he was not, in fact, wearing the standard suit and tie. Petunia thoroughly avoided her eye, which confused her to no end. Hadn't she agreed to try and work things out?

"You know, Dursley, you should try growing a moustache, make it pointed at the ends," said James mildly. Lily, trying her hardest not to smile, shot him a warning look.

"And why is that?" asked Vernon, his mean little eyes narrowing.

Lily saw red flags all around her.

"He means nothing, Vernon," she said sweetly, deciding that James needed a thorough talking-to after this was over, "He's always had a rather odd fascination with beards and moustaches, probably because he can't grow them himself. Please excuse him."

Her feeble attempt at breaking the ice did nothing; if anything, Vernon growled even more deeply (if that was possible) and now appeared unlikely to ever laugh.

"Traffic was so very bad, don't you think?" said Petunia quickly, apparently noticing that her husband appeared to be transforming into a live bomb. "We were lucky, really, that we drove out early."

"I don't believe in luck," said Vernon shortly. "It was thanks to me, Petunia dear… I told you, I had a feeling the streets were going to be crowded."

"Bravo," said James.

"Hmm," muttered Vernon, his lip curling downwards as though James had offended him greatly. "We parked right next to this Ford Cortina, we did, and let me tell you, I was worried it was some burglar's car."

Lily wanted to ask out loud how he'd come to that conclusion. She was slightly offended; her parents drove a Ford Cortina, and she'd driven that very same Ford out to this pretentious place.

"Complete rubbish, it was," continued Vernon loudly. "Looked like it was going to break down even when it was parked. Nasty red colour, too. Stickers on one of the mirrors. Different types of tyres. Outrageous, don't you think, Petunia m'dear… Petunia?"

Petunia had on her face a horrified look, and she turned to Lily. A silent conversation passed between them, and Lily's anger bubbled even more.

"I believe that was my car, Vernon," she said coldly. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about it in such a manner."

"Was it?" asked Vernon nastily, appearing as though that little bit of information didn't bother him at all. "Our food's here."

And indeed it was. The waitress carried with her a tray, with two plates of fish and chips on top of it as well as several glasses of mineral water. Lily took her food with a grateful thanks and the waitress bowed.

"Where's our food?" said Vernon. "That table ordered after us and they got their food ages ago, you ought to serve your customers better, don't you?"

Lily couldn't believe what she was hearing. She opened her mouth, about to tell him off, but then the waitress mumbled another half-hearted apology. Vernon merely scoffed.

"This is supposed to be a fine establishment," he snarled. "Five stars, all of my coworkers swear by this place. Had I known just how dismal the service was here –"

"Scallops and caviar take a long time to prepare, dear," said Petunia, her eyes darting from the waitress back to him. "Be patient, I'm sure the food will arrive soon."

"Even so, I expect the cooking to be top-notch –"

"Here's an idea, mate," said James loudly, "why don't you shut up?"

Vernon turned an even deeper shade of purple at that. The waitress hurried off, shooting James a grateful look; a few of the other diners in the restaurant had looked at them curiously.

The table was silent after that. James and Lily ate their food, and she hated herself when she found that it was in fact worth the £15 she would have to pay later. The rest of the food arrived a bit later, carried by a different waiter; she found herself holding her breath as Vernon took a bite out of the scallops. Apparently, it tasted fine, because he found nothing to criticize. Petunia looked relieved.

"So… Podder, was it?" said Vernon suddenly, pointing his fork at him.

"It's Potter," said James, in a tone of voice that suggested he was talking to a two-year-old. "You know, P-O-T-T –"

"It's been bothering me this entire time," continued Vernon, still in that demeaning tone of voice, "but what in blazes are you wearing?"

James looked down at his clothes, an eyebrow raised. Lily wanted to curl into a ball, though she wasn't sure if she was going to laugh or cry.

"They're robes, of course," said James easily. "Family tradition whenever we go out to dinner. Guess I forgot I was wearing this. It really is comfortable, Dursley, you should try it sometime."

Vernon's lips curled downwards once more. "I don't think it's appropriate."

"Do you, now?" said James, sipping his water.

"No," said Vernon. "They're – they're your clothes, aren't they? Your lot's."

Lily's heart thumped rather loudly. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You know," sneered Vernon, his eyes squinting at them both. "Freaks."

Petunia clapped a hand to her mouth. James and Lily stared at him, dumbstruck; part of her was in awe at how utterly rude this man was, and the other was begging her to end the night quickly.

James rose slowly from his seat, his face very different from the one Lily had grown to love. "What was that?"

Vernon leaned back into his chair, staring up at her towering boyfriend. If he was scared, he did a very good job of hiding it.

"I invite you to say that again, Dursley," said James quietly.

Lily tugged at the sleeve of his robes desperately. Petunia still had a hand over her large teeth, her eyes travelling nervously between the two men.

"Sit down," hissed Lily. "Don't get provoked. It's not worth it."

Slowly, James sat back down, glowering at Vernon. The latter's face was very purple, and he seemed to be puffing up in his anger.

"Vernon," said Petunia in a voice of false cheeriness. "Why don't you try the wine? It ought to –"

"I've already had wine, m'dear," said Vernon. "Sangreal. 1920 vintage, best in the world. I offered you some in the car, didn't I?"

"You – you drink wine in your car?" said James incredulously.

"Certainly," said Vernon, his face completely straight. "An expensive car deserves expensive wine!"

Lily took the opportunity, grateful that James appeared to be calming down. "And what car is it that you have, Vernon?"

Without missing a beat, Vernon announced proudly, "A Cadillac Eldorado. Brand new, mind you, so none of that old-timey rubbish."

Lily nodded automatically, even though she had no idea what Vernon was talking about. "Very impressive. Is it a company car, or…?"

"No, no," said Vernon. "A bit of an early Christmas present from my father, he's the director at Grunnings, do you know Grunnings –?"

James sniggered. Ignoring him, Vernon continued on with his speech.

It seemed to her that he had forgotten all about their little spat earlier. He had a very one-track mind, she noticed, and he loved talking about himself. Even as he discussed the finer topics of drill-making with a very bored-looking James (a supposed freak, according to him), Petunia's face changed. She looked at him lovingly, like she wanted nothing better than to listen to her future husband drone on about how many units he was selling to a complete stranger who had no idea what he was talking about.

"... all thanks to me, mind you, that Father took on the deal!" said Vernon, puffing his beefy chest so that the table shifted slightly. "He was so very grateful, he got me the car – but I'm interested in what your lot drive," he added, turning sharply to James.

"Excuse me?" said James.

"You have to get around somehow, don't you?" said Vernon. "What sort of car do you drive?"

"Oh," said James, glancing at Lily. She shook her head slowly, not wanting any excuse for Vernon to goad him any more than he already had, but James grinned.

"Yeah, we've got vehicles," began James. "Mine's a beauty – finest mahogany wood this side of the country, individually picked twigs that've been left to dry under a Sun-moth's light, Goblin-wrought metal that offers protection, in addition to all the Charms that've already been cast on it… if you're talking about the best, then mine's at the very top."

"What in blazes are you –"

"It can go nought to ninety in seven seconds, that's bloody impressive, if you ask me!" continued James heartily, and then he dipped his voice back down so that only their table could hear. "Finest racing broom there is, Dursley. You won't find another one like it."

Vernon had that nasty look on his face again. He reminded Lily vaguely of a pufferfish, though if she recalled correctly from her Potions classes pufferfish weren't usually magnificently purple in the face.

"Think you're funny, don't you?" said Vernon in a low voice. "Think you're going to get away with making fun of me?"

James shrugged, an easy smile finding its way on to his lips. "If I recall, you were the one who asked, Dursley. Perhaps I should have started with, ``our lot don't drive cars, since we can fly and Apparate."

"How's the wedding coming along, Tuney?" asked Lily quickly, for Vernon had started to swell enormously at James's words. Petunia closed her mouth from where she had been staring intently at Vernon and forced herself to speak.

"It's coming along smoothly, Lily," she replied meekly. "Mum had this idea, you know. We'd have Margaret – that's Vernon's sister – as the maid of honour, since the poor girl seemed so happy that her brother was getting married – you could be a bridesmaid, what do you think?"

For a moment, Lily had no idea what to say. She was, for once, at a loss for words – here she was with Petunia, and for the first time in years, they were having a normal, civilized conversation. And now, even when things were going so badly during this hopeless dinner, she was asking her to come to her wedding and be a bridesmaid.

When she spoke, her voice was slightly hoarse and her eyes were misty. "I –"

But then Vernon, who had apparently not been listening, said to James, "Things must be cheap in your world, eh? Especially those racing brooms, I can't imagine how the economy would be for you lot. Suppose you must live off the unemployment benefit, right?"

He laughed rather heartily at that. Petunia looked as though she had despaired; she looked torn between desperation and confusion, and Lily couldn't help but want to curse Vernon Dursley into oblivion.

"No, actually," said James coolly. "In the wizarding world, we have this bank called Gringotts, where it's run by Goblins. I've got my own vault there and everything, though there's not much in it, since I'm still a student. My parents, though – they used to work in the hair department. Made a fortune off selling their product."

"Now –"

"Did I mention wizards store their riches in solid gold?" continued James, his voice cold and hard. "Because that's what we do, Dursley. Our economy's doing just fine, I reckon."

"I did not ask for –"

"What I'm trying to say, Dursley," said James, a crooked grin on his face, "is that we wizards and witches are doing pretty well, so maybe you should lay off the soft bragging for a while."

It appeared that Vernon had no idea what to say. His pudgy face was a brilliant mixture of red and purple; his bushy eyebrows had sloped so steeply they looked parallel to each other; his large bottom lip was curled downwards in such a way that his resemblance to a walrus was now uncanny.

"I know!" said Lily loudly, glaring daggers at her boyfriend. "Let's get the tab, shall we? We seem to be done eating, anyways."

"I'll get it," said Petunia softly, and she signalled a waiter for the bill. It came a few minutes later, during which James and Vernon continued their silent standoff.

"We're splitting the bill, aren't we?" Petunia asked her.

Lily nodded mutely. She glanced at the bill, and a sigh of relief came fluttering to her lips: £32 wasn't so bad. Opening her wallet, she was about to pay when Vernon, for the umpteenth time that evening, spoke loudly.

"Why're you paying for your food?"

She looked at him in confusion. "Why wouldn't I be paying for my food?"

"Well, you're a woman, obviously."

"What's my being a woman got anything to do with… well, anything?" she said incredulously.

"Women shouldn't handle money, especially not you," said Vernon as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "You, Potter – why the bloody hell is she paying?"

"Women shouldn't handle money?" said Lily disbelievingly. "What sort of lopsided view of the world have you got, you prick?"

"A normal one," retorted Vernon. "Petunia, dear, let's go. We don't want to be anywhere near these people…"

People were starting to stare now. Lily looked at her sister, her mouth slightly open. "You can't be serious, Tuney."

Petunia did not answer her. She avoided her gaze again, her hand grasped firmly in Vernon's large fingers.

"You stay where you are, Dursley," sneered James, standing up. "You're going to apologize to Lily and the staff. You need to get checked, I reckon you're touched in the head."

"If anyone's touched in the head, it's you lot!" Vernon all but bellowed. "A freak demanding I apologize… how you dare…"

"At least we freaks have manners and decency, you overgrown walrus," snapped James.

"Stand down, James," Lily implored him, but James continued to glower. She instead turned to Petunia, who had her face set and was staring at the two of them in disgust.

"Tuney," she began, "Tuney, please –"

"Save it," said Petunia coldly. "I don't know what Mum was thinking, this was a horrible idea…"

And then, with a last, contemptuous, look, they stormed out of the restaurant. Lily slumped back onto her chair, her head in her hands, trying to blink back the tears that were threatening to spill out.

A warm pair of hands grasped her shoulders, and she allowed them to lead her out of the restaurant into the cold, windy car park. She and James made their way towards their beat-up Ford Cortina, where she finally let loose all her emotions.

It was the first time she had sobbed in months. James held her tightly, not saying a word, and she buried her face into his chest. She felt vulnerable, exposed – but at the same time, she felt reassured. His dress-robes were warm and soft, perfect for wiping her tears.

It was never meant to be, the wind seemed to whisper to her.

Her anger and frustration slowly numbed until all that was left was a foreboding sense of emptiness. She was disappointed with herself. She had been foolish, after all, to think that she could ever make up with her sister. Slowly, the sound of her sobs faded away, and she was holding on to James tightly.

"I'm sorry," he said at last.

Lily sniffed, and then looked up at him. "For what?"

"For… everything." He had a far-away look on his face that Lily couldn't quite read. "I messed it all up."

"It wasn't your fault," said Lily hollowly, but she meant it. She wasn't angry at James, or Vernon, or anybody, really.

"If I'd just kept my mouth shut –"

"It was never meant to be," murmured Lily, repeating the words the wind had told her. "If Tuney wants to be that way – fine. I'm not going to force her."

The drive back to the Evans household was quiet and calm. It was nearing nine, and though people would usually be out and about, especially since it was nearing Christmas, the streets were eerily silent as they entered Cokeworth.

They sat in the car right outside her house. Her parents were probably sleeping by now, and so she was in no hurry to tell them what a fiasco the evening had been. The radio continued to play Led Zeppelin softly, bringing back memories of her childhood with Petunia.

"I meant to give you these," said James quietly, bringing from under his robes two small boxes. "One's chocolate, I thought you might like it. The other's your Christmas present."

"Bloody hell, I completely forgot about Christmas presents," said Lily, clapping a hand to her forehead. "I'm really sorry, James. I could go and fetch it from my room upstairs –"

"Don't worry about it," said James, smiling slightly.

His eyes were sincere. Slowly, she said, "All right, then."

They exited the car and he escorted her to her front door. She hesitated; she didn't want to leave him, and yet she was so bloody tired she wasn't sure how much longer she could stay awake.

"You must be tired," said James; apparently, she wasn't great at masking it. "I'll leave now. Thanks for… everything."

"Yeah," said Lily delicately. Her fingers intertwined themselves into his. "We'll see each other after Christmas."

And even then, they still didn't move. She stayed glued to the spot, wanting to convey to him that she was grateful that he'd showed up for dinner, and that she wished things could have gone better with Petunia…

James appeared to be studying her. His glasses were slightly foggy from the cold.

"Mistletoe," she said softly, gesturing up at the bit of roof over their heads.

They both smiled and leaned in.

Polished up a couple of other chapters while I was writing this; expect a few changes in the following days, mostly to this chapter, probably.