"Lily," James whispered, waking her up from a rather peaceful sleep. Her green eyes blinked open; the room masked in darkness. It took a few moments before she realized where she was, looking up at the bespectacled boy leaning over her.
"Hello," Lily said groggily, stretching out her legs. She had fallen asleep in James' bed, the slanted roof of his attic bedroom above her.
"It's six a.m.," he announced.
"Fuck," Lily groaned, rubbing at her sleepy eyes. She curled into James' chest; his body still warm from sleep. She had spent the past few nights – since their reconciliation at Christmas –at James'. She snuck out after her mother went to sleep and returned before she woke. For Lily, it was the only peace she got all day – away from all the reminders of what she had lost and was still to lose.
It was January 31st – New Year's Eve, 1977. James' party was planned for that evening. Most excitingly, the gift that he and the Marauders had been waiting to give Sirius had finally been completed the night before, Lily getting to see it before anyone else. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when they unveiled it after midnight.
"You should come for breakfast," Lily suggested, gathering her bearings. She climbed out of bed, picking her jeans up off the ground to wiggle into.
"Really?" James was watching her, lying on his side, elbow propped up to support his head.
"Well, the break will be over soon, and I know my mum would love to meet you." Now that Lily knew she had a limited amount of time with her mother, she was eager for her and James to meet right away, at least before she began to truly deteriorate…
"You can come by around eight maybe?"
"Okay," James nodded, looking as if he'd just been stunned. "Should I bring anything?"
"Just your handsome face," Lily assured him, leaning in for a final kiss.
"I'll think of something."
"Don't go over the top!" She warned, knowing her boyfriend too well.
"I never do."
Luckily for Lily, she made it home before the sun was up and her mother was still soundly asleep. Petunia was spending most of her time at the Dursleys' now that Lily was home. Truthfully, Lily had no complaints. She preferred the time alone with her mother. She was well aware that these final moments together would be the ones she would remember for the rest of her life.
Lily took a warm shower and changed her clothes all before her mother got out of bed. She was in the kitchen, making a cup of tea as BBC Radio One played softly from the window ledge when her mother finally arose.
"Morning love," she yawned, padding slowly into the kitchen.
"Good morning."
"Is there enough water in there for me?"
"Of course, there is." Lily poured them out two cups, watching anxiously as the shorthand grew closer to eight.
"I have a surprise," she confessed once her mother was sitting down. "I've invited James to join us for breakfast."
"Oh heavens! I would have gotten ready if I'd known we were to have company," her mother panicked.
"James won't care what you look like, mum. Besides, I think that bathrobe is quite becoming."
"Oh, shut up, you," her mother rolled her eyes, smirking all the while. "I'll get changed at least; I want to look somewhat presentable when I meet the lad who swept my daughter off her feet."
Lily blushed at the statement. It was true, to an extent. She had not seen her feelings for James coming, she had not understood them at first nor been able to pinpoint exactly when it all started. All she knew was at some point, the best part of her day had become seeing his face.
While her mother busied herself changing into "appropriate" clothing, Lily began preparing pancake batter – a last-minute breakfast idea. She was wearing a flour-stained apron when the doorbell rang – announcing James' arrival. He laughed when she met him on the stoop.
"Lily Evans, a domesticated woman," he teased.
"Fuck off." Lily leaned in for a kiss. Only then did she notice the container of muffins in his hands, her eyebrows raising.
"Crazy coincidence," James chuckled, "Mimsy made muffins this morning."
"Did you force your house elf to make muffins for you?"
"Of course not! She offered. Besides, no one makes better blueberry muffins than Mimsy." Sometimes Lily forgot that she and James came from such different worlds. He could rise at the crack of dawn and request a fresh batch of muffins from his house-elf while Lily had spent her entire life making her own meals – she'd never known anyone who had a nanny let alone a chef growing up.
"You know, I've, um, never actually been in your house," James reminded her.
"Well," she ushered him in, "I'll give you the grand tour."
It felt quite pathetic in comparison to the sprawling manor in which James lived – with rooms Lily had still yet to discover. Her home had a simple layout. The small living room was off the entry hall. It had light blue carpeting and a bay window which helped to make it appear slightly larger in size than it truly was. The family's old suede couch was patched up and dated and her father's armchair a dusty relic – never used. Of course, none of that caught James' attention, his eyes settling instead on the tv set against the wall.
"Muggle technology is extraordinary," he mused, looking at the electronic with wonder.
"There'll be loads of broadcasts tonight," Lily told him, "celebrating the New Year's countdown."
"Really?"
"From all over the world," she nodded.
"We should watch it some year."
"Yeah," Lily agreed, finding her boyfriend's amazement quite endearing.
She led him into the kitchen after that, James settling at the table as she prepared him a cup of tea.
The kettle had just begun to whistle when Lily's mother made her entrance, dressed in a dark red jumper, which made her golden hair pop.
"Hello," she greeted James – who instinctively rose from his chair and offered her his hand to shake. "You must be James Potter."
"You must be the woman responsible for creating Lily Evans," James answered, the pair shaking hands before taking a seat at the kitchen table. Lily joined them with James' tea, the three engaging a small talk as they tore away at the blueberry muffins James had brought – which were as delicious as he had promised.
"So," Katherine began once she had finished eating, "I hear you had an unfortunate meeting with my eldest."
"Oh," James cleared his throat awkwardly, "that…yes…"
"I just want you to know, Petunia, she can be quite a hothead." Her mother sighed deeply. "Not that it excuses her and Vernon's behaviour."
"It's fine, really," James insisted, "I was partly to blame—"
"Oh, I doubt that. You seem very well behaved."
"You'd be surprised," Lily interjected, making her boyfriend smile. She held onto his hand under the table, his thumb drawing circles in her palm.
"Lily tells me you come from a long line of wizards?"
"I do," James confirmed proudly. "My world must seem quite strange to you, but the muggle world feels just as odd for me…"
"You should have seen his face when he saw the TV," Lily added.
"Have you tried using a telephone?" her mother inquired excitedly.
"Once or twice. They've always freaked me out."
"Witches and Wizards usually communicate through owls," Lily explained to her mother. "Sometimes through the Floo network, which is in a fireplace." Suddenly, her mother had about a hundred questions about communication in the Wizarding world – all of which James and Lily were more than happy to answer. She couldn't help feeling disappointed that her father could not be there to join them, to see how happy James made her.
Sometime after ten, her mother announced she was going to retire upstairs for a nap, leaving James and Lily to tidy up after breakfast. It was the nicest morning Lily had enjoyed in quite a while. It was a pleasant sight, James Potter moving about her kitchen as if he belonged there. It caused Lily to wonder what it might be like to actually live together one day. She didn't mind the idea.
"I should probably get back," James said once they were finished cleaning up.
"That's right." Lily grinned, wrapping her arms around his middle. "Your legendary party awaits."
"Will you come early?" James asked, tipping his face towards hers.
"If I can get ready in time."
James chuckled. "Well, you better make sure you're there by midnight because I am going to give you the best New Year's kiss of your life."
"Is that right?" She was smiling as their lips met, James moving in for a practice round.
Mary had promised Patrick that she would bring him out on New Year's Eve for lunch. It was a tradition of theirs – something started with their parents when they were little which they had continued once their mother and Bobby had shacked up. What she hadn't realized when she'd made the promise was how difficult it was going to be to see her brother after her meeting with their father.
Should she tell Patrick the truth? That the man they both spent years idolizing and dreaming about was a drunken fool? That he couldn't even recognize his own daughter, standing right before him? Mary filled with rage every time she recalled meeting her father. He had been unapologetic, proud almost, of the life he led.
When Mary approached the white-picket-fence, which surrounded her mother's house, she was surprised to find her sitting outside, waiting on the front step. Her mother too was startled when she looked up and saw Mary walking through the front gate. Face to face, neither woman was quite certain what to say.
"Can I have one of those?" Mary asked, motioning towards the pack of cigarettes sitting next to her mother. Rose hesitated a moment before nodding and Mary – against her better instincts – joined her on the step. It was easier at that moment than facing Patrick.
"I didn't know you smoked," Rose commented, almost sounding concerned.
Mary ignored her. Instead, she stated flatly, "I met him."
"What?"
"Christmas Eve," Mary confirmed. "He's quite the character, my dad."
"He's still drinking then?"
"Yes, still drinking." It was, perhaps, Gerry's most identifiable trait. "He had quite a lot to say about you."
Rose scoffed. "I'm sure he did." Mary watched her mother, who faced straight ahead, desperate to know what she was thinking. In truth, meeting Gerry had only confirmed the fact that Mary had never really seen her mother, not for who she really was.
"That's it then?" Mary challenged her. "I was a mistake you made when you were seventeen, so you hate me?"
"Of course, not…"
"Do I remind you of him?"
"It's not that Mary…it's…" her mother struggled to find the words. "It's difficult is all." It. The never mentioned, always lingering resentment which hung between Rose and Mary. She could not stand that her daughter was a witch. Something strange and abnormal – a thing which detracted from the life of idyllic normality which she had worked so hard to forge for herself.
"I never asked for it either you know?" Mary reminded her. "I would have happily given up the chance to study magic if it had meant earning your love."
"I have always loved you, Mary," her mother told her, snuffling back tears. "I wish I could've been the mother you needed." It was the closest Mary had ever come to an apology.
"Me too."
All she ever wanted was her mother to love her. Not the idea of her – the picture-perfect, cookie-cutter daughter she had in her mind – but the real person Mary was. Perhaps, she realized, sitting on that step, some people are not strong enough for that.
It was near impossible to get through lunch with Patrick, but Mary managed. She did not tell her little brother about their drunkard of a father. Instead, she asked Patrick about school. He told her about his friends, the football team he played on, and the party he was hoping to attend that night (if their mum would allow it). It was better than telling her little brother the truth, that they were the product of a loveless, teenage union.
"How did it go?" Emmeline asked when Mary returned to their London flat. She was doing her makeup in the bedroom, sat behind the vanity mirror with a mascara wand to her eyelashes.
"Fine," Mary lied, stuck so deep in her head that she could not explain her thoughts to Emmeline even if she tried. What if was in the same trap as her mother? Always searching for something unattainable while ignoring the opportunity before her.
"Do you know what you're wearing tonight?" Emmeline asked.
"Pink halter dress I think." Mary started rummaging through the closet, searching for the dress in mind, her back to Emmeline.
"Do we know who's going tonight?"
"Everyone I would think."
"The Prewetts?"
Mary glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if Emmeline was making a joke of some kind, but found her still focused on applying makeup in the mirror.
"I didn't know you were interested in Fabian—"
"Not Fabian!" Emmeline was quick to correct her. "Gideon. He's handsome, don't you think? I hadn't really noticed him until the Quidditch season started but he's really bulked up…" suddenly Mary was forced to listen as her friend rambled on endlessly about Gideon Prewett, wondering whether he'd arrive at the party and if he'd have a date, but Mary could not focus. There was only one thing she could think about, one boy. Someone she had long pushed to the recesses of her brain, too afraid to truly analyze her feelings for him until now.
Attending James Potter's New Year's Party had seemed a no brainer up until the point that Alice actually had to get ready for the event. Only then did she begin to wonder whether or not it was wise to attend a party where there would most definitely be those still whispering behind her back about the rumour Leila and her friends had spread.
Alice stood before the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door, examining her outfit for the evening with close scrutiny. She wore a short, black velvet dress with a scooped neckline and puffed sleeves. Her short hair was jelled back and her round, brown eyes highlighted with a thin streak of eyeliner. Is it too much? Alice worried. Had she gone overboard on the makeup? Was her dress all wrong for the occasion?
Had it not been for the unexpected arrival of Dorcas Meadowes at her front door – once again – Alice did not think she would ever find the courage to leave the house. Dorcas's long black hair was smoothed back into a high ponytail and she wore a golden, sparkly halter top tucked into a pair of flared, black jeans. Even dressed relatively casually, Dorcas was stunning. She had the figure of a model and strode through Alice's front door with an air of confidence the latter craved.
"I thought you might not want to show up to the party alone," Dorcas said, explaining her presence.
"Yeah? Or were you just nervous to show up to a party with a bunch of teenagers alone?"
Dorcas laughed. "Yeah, that too." She was wearing a long, black and white tweed coat, towering over Alice with the boost of her tall, black boots. Though they were both dressed and ready to go, neither moved from the foyer.
"Have you got anything to drink?" Dorcas finally asked.
"My dad keeps the fridge stocked exclusively with beer," Alice informed her, walking towards the back of the house, Dorcas following. She pulled two cans from the musky smelling fridge and cracked them open.
"So, is Frank going to be there tonight?" Dorcas ripped off the band-aid.
"Maybe," Alice shrugged, terrified of arriving to find him at the party with another girl. She might actually lose it at that point.
"When's the last time you spoke?"
"I ran into him at the market just before Christmas," Alice said, sipping from her beer can. "He's always cordial. It's just…hard to be forced to look at what you ruined, what could have been, on a daily basis."
"You can't help that you made a mistake," Dorcas reminded her, adding wisely, "you can only control what you do from here and how you let it define you." It's the kind of advice that Alice's mother might have offered, were she still around to do such things.
"Thank you, Dorcas," Alice smiled across the table at her friend, "you're one hell of a mentor."
"Wait till you find out I'm simply gunning for the raise Moody is offering to the Auror with the most successful recruit."
Alice rolled her eyes, chuckling. Perhaps, with Dorcas at her side, the night might actually be bearable. Sure, there would be stares and whispers, but as long as Alice had a friend to distract her, someone removed from the Hogwarts social scene, she might not care so much.
After finishing their drinks, the two girls went into the back garden in order to apparate to the Potters' manor. Alice had only been a handful of times – mostly to attend parties – and in truth, never without Frank.
They didn't bother knocking on the door, pushing it open instead to find the house already filled with guests. To their right, the sitting room was filled with those who had used the Floo network and were just arriving. Alice made sure not to make eye contact with anyone as she and Dorcas hung their coats up in the closet and made their journey towards the back of the house where the kitchen lay.
In the kitchen lay copious amounts of alcohol, mixing drinks and food. The kitchen was huge, bigger than any Alice had ever seen, with marble countertops and a long island in the middle of the room. There were a few clusters of people chattering amongst themselves, though none paid any mind to Dorcas and Alice when they entered and began to fix themselves drinks.
"Vodka cran?" Dorcas asked, already reaching for the bottle of Smirnoff on the counter before her.
"I won't be able to survive tonight without one," Alice replied, looking nervously about the room for any recognizable faces. She saw no sign of any of the Marauders, nor Frank (for which she was partly grateful).
"You know, I've been to this house a handful of times and have probably never seen half of the rooms in it," Dorcas mused, brown eyes shifting about curiously.
"Have you ever been to the ballroom?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
A grin spread across Alice's face and she motioned for Dorcas to follow her from the kitchen and down the long corridor which led both to Alec Potter's office, the manor's library and, at the end of the hall behind a pair of wood and lattice double doors, was the family's ballroom – used exclusively for entertaining guests. It had a diamond chandelier which hung in the centre of the room and black and white tiled floors. The wall facing the back of the house was lined with floor to ceiling windows, providing a gorgeous view of the surrounding land when it was light outside. At the back of the room was a platform where a band performed for those on the dance floor – how James was able to find and afford a band during one of the busiest holidays of the year was beyond Alice.
"There's a familiar face," Dorcas commented, Alice looked over her shoulder to find Remus approaching. That would certainly draw a few stares. Remus was wearing a purple, floral dress shirt tucked into a pair of straight, high waisted, cream trousers, held up at the waist with a black belt.
"You both look beautiful," he greeted them, always a gentleman. "When did you get here?"
"We just arrived," Dorcas informed him, sipping from her plastic cup.
"I'm surprised we convinced you to make it out. I thought you might be too cool for us," Remus teased Dorcas. Alice looked between the pair of them, sparks flying, and her heart soared. That was a match she'd love to see.
"Well, I had to see Henry Fawley at a party with my own eyes," Dorcas confessed. "And I thought our friend Alice here could use a friend."
"If it's any consolation, I haven't spotted Frank yet," Remus assured her as the band began planning a cover of My Generation. Dorcas' face light up immediately.
"Oh! I love this song."
"Me too," Remus agreed, cheeks flushing.
"You two should go dance!" Alice suggested, doing her best to sound enthusiastic. The pair looked towards one another hesitantly. "Go!" she commanded so that they had no choice but to wander out onto the dance floor together, Alice watching on proudly from the wings. She recognized fellow Gryffindors and classmates in the crowd yet still had not spotted any of her friends. Alice scanned the room once more, in search of one of the girls but instead, found herself staring right at Frank. He was jumping around on the dance floor, twirling about a familiar blonde - Cecily Turner. She was a Ravenclaw in their year and known to be quite the catch. Alice's stomach dropped.
Horrified, and filled with a sudden fear that she might start crying, she made back towards the double doors, desperate to find the toilet as quickly as possible so as to hide her face from those who wished to see her crumble and break. She was nearly there, moving along the side of the dance floor as far from Frank as humanly possible, yet still, somehow, despite her best efforts, Cecily spotted her.
"Alice!" she exclaimed, drawing a few heads. Alice froze, petrified. "Oh, I was hoping we would see you tonight." Alice prayed she did not appear as stunned as she felt. Cecily came towards her, long, pink dress swooshing at her ankles, and took Alice by the hands as though they were anything more than casual acquaintances. Frank remained a few feet behind her.
"I know this must be strange," Cecily persisted, despite Alice's clear discomfort. "You and Frank dated for-ever." Alice swallowed hard. "I hope there won't be any awkwardness, because of, this," Cecily motioned between herself and Frank, suggesting there was more to this than one simple dance. Alice felt sick.
"Yeah, fine," she nodded, not quite making eye contact with either of them. Instead, she simply turned her back on Cecily, mid-sentence, and walked away, desperate to get as far away from either of them as she could. Luckily, Alice had attended one of James' parties before and quickly found the bathroom in the library – grateful to discover it empty. For a moment she considered allowing herself to break down in tears and experience the full depth of the emotion she felt upon spying Frank with Cecily Turner, but Alice decided against it. Not when it meant destroying her evening and returning home to her dark and lonely house.
For the first time in what felt like quite a while, Alice managed to take a deep breath, splash some water on her face, and return into the crowd as if nothing had happened.
Sirius lingered outback, where he'd escaped from the crowd for a smoke break. He sat on one of the deck chairs arranged on the back lawn, cigarette in one hand, a bottle of beer resting on the ledge of his chair and took a moment to enjoy his solitude. He leaned back, inhaling nicotine and chilled winter air, basking in the final few hours of 1977.
"Oi!" came a familiar voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere." Sirius' eyes opened and he glanced up to see Peter approaching, balancing a red solo cup in one hand. "James and Remus are all coupled up," he complained.
"Remus?"
"He's been dancing with one of the Aurors for twenty minutes."
"There are Aurors here?" Sirius had missed a lot in his short absence from the party.
"I wish I had a date," Peter continued to complain, using his wand to drag over a chair lying a few feet away. "I met a girl you know—"
"Yes." Sirius was only half-listening, already relishing in the light, floating sensations of an alcohol buzz.
"I could have invited her of course; she did give me her information so that I could write her, but I thought it might seem pushy…"
"Girls like it when you take control," Sirius advised, turning to face Peter. "She wouldn't have given you her contact information if she didn't want you to invite her out places."
"Yeah?" Peter confirmed anxiously, tugging at the collar of his white button-down shirt. "I just don't want to screw it up," he added. "Not when she's the first girl to show an ounce of interest in me."
"You're a late bloomer is all," Sirius assured him, taking a final drag from his cigarette before tossing it into the grass. "Besides, if you need any advice on how to keep a lady happy you can always come to me." He gave his friend a clap on the back as if to say, good chat, and rose to return into the house, Peter automatically following.
They stepped through the kitchen, Sirius grabbing himself a fresh beer from the cooler, and began into the sitting room, pausing in the archway when Sirius' eyes caught on Marlene, standing across the room. He stopped so abruptly in his tracts that Peter, a few paces behind him, ran into Sirius' back, stumbling. She was wearing a long red dress with a slit down one leg. Her blonde hair was tied back in a high ponytail and she wore long, gold earrings that glimmered in the light. She looked beautiful, as always, but it was not her appearance which truly gave Sirius pause. Rather, it was the man whose arm she clung to, grinning proudly as she introduced him to those she knew in the room.
"Everything okay?" Peter asked. He hadn't noticed her yet, standing there, shining for all to see. Sirius took a large gulp from his bottle and nodded.
"Yeah, fine," he said, turning right back around to walk in the opposite direction. Peter followed behind as before, not asking any questions about Sirius' abrupt change in mood as they returned to the ballroom. James and Lily were standing by the stage, chatting with a group of people when Sirius approached. He did a poor job at hiding his sour mood.
"What's wrong?" James asked. The others scattered away when Sirius and Peter approached.
"Oh nothing," Sirius lied. "Wormtail and I are just tired of seeing all of our friends shacked up." Sirius wrapped on arm around Peter who nodded, backing him up.
"Shall we pretend not to be a couple?" Lily teased, stepping away from James.
"Oh please. As if you two could manage," Sirius rolled his eyes, Lily returning to her rightful place at James' side.
"I'm sure we can find you two some nice girls," James said, smirking. It infuriated Sirius, the smug look upon his best friend's face, as he teased him about finding a girl to waste his night trying to woo, while the only person he'd ever wanted to be with was in the other room with someone else because James had forced him to give her up.
Sirius downed the rest of his beer rather quickly, excusing himself to go get another drink. It was small mercy at least that no one tried to stop him. The band played a rather solid cover of Stayin' Alive by the Bee Gees as he left the ballroom. In a better mood, Sirius might have been tempted to dance along, maybe he would find a random girl to sweep off her feet, but he couldn't stomach it. Not now with the alcohol coursing through his system, causing his emotions to spill forth.
Sirius, having hoped to avoid running into Marlene and Henry altogether, was forced to face the latter when he entered the kitchen and spotted Henry mixing himself a drink at the counter, perfectly at home. He might have turned and left if Henry had not noticed him first.
"How's it going?" he inquired cheerfully, squeezing lemon juice into a cup. "You guys sure know how to throw a party."
"It's a point of pride for James," Sirius shrugged, stepping gingerly into the kitchen. Marlene was nowhere in sight.
"I'm making a Tom Collins, you want one?" Sirius hadn't a fucking clue what a Tom Collins was, but he was unsurprised by Henry's snooty cocktail knowledge.
"Sure," he agreed, leaning back awkwardly against the island as he watched Henry mix up the cocktails, back facing Sirius. He wore a black, polka-dot button-down, untucked, and dark trousers.
"So, look, I was hoping we might have a moment alone," Henry began to explain. "Marlene told me about, everything," he cleared his throat awkwardly – clearly as unnerved by the conversation as Sirius now felt. "I just wanted to let you know that I won't say a word to anyone. I'd just like to make sure that things are cool between us." He turned back to face Sirius, holding out a plastic cup for him, a peace offering if you will.
"Yeah," Sirius agreed flatly, accepting the drink, "all cool." He wanted to bludger the man's bloody face in.
Henry left it at the, leaving to go make his rounds, introducing himself about the party – as what, Sirius wondered, Marlene's boyfriend? – and Sirius, filled with rage, chugged back the carbonated, gin cocktail Henry had mixed him and bolted up the kitchen's side staircase. He crossed the second-floor landing in the direction of James' bedroom, shoving open the door before he took the attic stairs two at a time.
Had he not deserved a simple warning from Marlene? They had shagged only a week ago and now she was coming to James' party, showing Henry off to all of their friends as though he was her new boyfriend. Sirius would have liked at least an idea as to what he was walking into tonight. James' bedroom was dark, moonlight filtering through the slanted window facing the street. Sirius sat down on the edge of the bed, head in his heads, sighing heavily, when he heard the sound of the door at the base of the stairs creak open, footsteps following. Quickly, he tried to pull himself together, on the verge of tears.
"Holy shit!" Marlene cursed, clutching her chest, startled upon spotting Sirius at the top of the stairs. She had two coats draped over her arm and a purse dangling from her shoulder. "I didn't want to leave this downstairs," she explained, "figured no one would be up here." She crossed the room, dumping her things in a pile against the wall. She'd hardly noticed Sirius' irate state.
"Why aren't you downstairs enjoying the party?" she asked, standing before the full-length mirror James had in the corner, adjusting her lipstick.
"I was," he told her, his chest tight.
"Did something happen?" She stood up, finally looking at him. That's when he dealt his blow.
"Thanks for warning me by the way," he said bitterly. Marlene's face fell.
"Sorry?"
"You used me."
"How much have you had to drink tonight?" Marlene asked, arms crossing against her chest. She frowned at him as though he were no more than a petulant child, his pain meaningless to her.
"Don't be condescending."
"You're talking absolute nonsense," she rolled her eyes. "I have never once used you. Not once."
"You fucked me and then you ran right back into your boyfriend's arms."
"It wasn't like that—"
"Not a word after. Not one. Not even a simple warning that you were going to rub my face in it tonight."
"That's not fair." Her tone was sharp. "You can't expect me to just know what you're thinking. Not after the last time, I believed you and got shit on for it."
"And now you've shit on my feelings," he retorted. "I suppose we're even."
"It's not the same," Marlene scowled, "not when I gave you a chance to be with me." She always had that card hidden up her sleeve.
"It has never been as simple as that."
"It seems quite simple to me," she corrected him. "You don't know what you want and instead of just being honest with me about it you'd rather string me along and have me waiting in case you change your mind." She was so far from the truth it was laughable. "I'm not doing it anymore."
"So that's what you think of me?" He growled.
"Give me something else to think then," she countered. "Just be honest with me."
It's James. The statement sat on the tip of his tongue as he faced her, blue eyes waiting eagerly, as a lump formed in the back of Sirius' throat. It would be so easy to tell her, to just admit to the truth – he'd promised James he wouldn't touch her and to be together would mean admitting that he had broken that promise and, once more, failed.
"I'm not doing this anymore Sirius," Marlene said finally after a long, deafening silence in which Sirius failed to find his voice. "You don't get to fuck with my head like this and just…expect me to fall into your lap." She shook her head, stepping away from him. "Do you understand me?" He didn't speak but this time she would not accept his silence. "Sirius."
"Done," he agreed. "I will never bother you again." He meant it too, as he watched Marlene leave the room in a fury. Sirius was finished with her for good and any hope he had of restarting their relationship, or whatever it was that existed between them, was dead.
Remus ran a hand through his hair – damp with sweat from all the dancing. Suddenly, the band slowed down with a rendition of The Association's Never my Love. Dorcas, who stood at Remus' height in her heeled boots, stepped forward first, looping her arms instinctively about Remus' neck. She was beautiful and smelt amazing – like cinnamon and warm summer rain. That wonderful scent after the clouds have cleared and the sun has begun to shine down upon the soaked earth.
"I have to say, we never had anything like this in my day," Dorcas' brown eyes turned about the room in awe.
"James knows how to throw a party, that is for sure."
"How long have you been doing this?"
"Since fourth year," Remus recalled. "It was Sirius' idea. Said James had to do something with a room like this."
"I cannot believe this is just part of their house," Dorcas gawked. Remus was still floored by the grandness of James' childhood home – which he treated like any old house. Remus' own two-bedroom, one level house seemed meagre in comparison.
"So, are you quite the catch about Hogwarts?" Dorcas asked, smiling at Remus as they swayed to the music.
"No," he scoffed. "I'm quite a loner actually." Dorcas raised her eyebrows, challenging his suggestion. "Really," Remus insisted. "The boys were my only real friends until recently."
She frowned. "It must be hard, making friends with everything you have going on…" Remus nearly nodded along, his mind automatically moving to his secret, but suddenly he paused, remembering what Dorcas did not know.
"What does that mean?"
"Well, just that…" she stopped, suddenly realizing her mistake, brown eyes widening. "Oh Remus," they drew apart, his face falling.
"What did you mean?" he asked once more.
"I…well…" she stammered, "you'll remember when we rescued the girls, that organization you were exposed to?" Remus nodded, following more or less. "It's called The Order," Dorcas continued, voice hushed. "It is the beginnings of an army to fight you-know-who."
"Really?"
"The point is, I know a lot, about a lot of things, because of my membership in that group." Remus did not understand at first, staring blankly at her. "I know Remus," she told him, "about your secret."
"Dumbledore told you?" something about the fact bothered him. What right did Dumbledore have to disclose Remus' secret?
"For your protection," she explained to him. "I have patrols around Hogwarts at night to…keep an eye on things…"
"I don't understand…" Why would Hogwarts need to be protected? Since when had it been under threat?
"You shouldn't," she sighed, running her hands along her face, "I shouldn't have said anything—" when she turned, as if to walk away, Remus caught her by the wrist.
"You've known this whole time?" he demanded, the pair standing a few inches apart as they spoke, so as to prevent prying ears nearby. The music helped with that too of course. "Even at Alice's?"
"Yeah," Dorcas nodded, unnerved by the reality of Remus' situation. It was miles from the reaction he'd come to expect. "It's not a reflection of you as a person," she told him. "It's just a thing, something you cannot control but have to live with. It doesn't define you."
"That's where your wrong," he corrected her. "It defines every decision I make in this world."
"Hating it won't make it any easier."
"No offence, but how would you know?" Remus snapped. He'd grown tired of being reminded how lucky he was all the time, how unimportant his condition really was, but how could he believe that rubbish? How could he truly think he was more than his condition when it ruined every good thing he had?
"I know more than you think," Dorcas replied, not missing a beat. She didn't stick around to argue with him, instead, she left, disappearing into the crowd on the edge of the dance floor, and Remus was left utterly gobsmacked. Who the hell was Dorcas Meadowes anyway? He knew very little about the woman who was aware of his most intimate secret. Remus might have chased after her or gone to find Alice to demand answers about her friend, but instead, he froze, standing in the middle of the dance floor when he spotted the girl stepping through the ballroom doors.
Leila wore her dark hair down, resting just above her collarbone, her fringe scattered evenly across her forehead, and a tight, little black dress. It had short, puffed sleeves and a square neckline with just a hint of cleavage, Leila tugging the bottom of her dress down anxiously as she stepped into the room. Remus could hardly believe his eyes. Slowly he moved through the crowd towards her, though she hadn't noticed him yet, her brown eyes scanning the room, hands clasped behind her back. When she finally saw Remus, striding towards her, Leila's face fell.
"Remus," she gasped, standing a few feet away from him now. "I um…" she looked petrified. "Shit, I planned a whole speech in my head." Leila looked near tears, "and now you're standing here, and I don't even know what to say…" suddenly she cracked, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks, as she bowed her head in shame.
"What I did to you is unforgivable."
"Leila…"
"I hate myself for running away like that when you…you were just trying to be honest with me." She turned away from him as she began to sob, lips trembling, and Remus – against all better judgment – reached out and took her in his arms. She melted into the embrace, arms wrapping tightly around his middle.
"I'm so sorry," she cried into his chest. He was stunned, shocked to see her and even more surprised to be holding her in his arms once more.
"It's okay," he swore, kissing the top of her head, forgiving everything she'd done in a single moment as if words could erase months of pain and heartache. "Everything is going to be okay."
He would forgive her, and they would find a way to make it work because he loved her and clearly, she loved him too and that, Remus decided, should be more than enough to overcome any obstacle.
Mary watched from the edge of the room as Marlene swayed side to side, her head rested against Henry Fawley's chest. She could not remember the last time she'd seen her friend look so happy and so it was difficult to peel her eyes away from the scene, watching as he whispered something in Marlene's ear to make her giggle.
Mary was seated on one of the plush, red velvet sofas which lined the edge of the dance floor, nursing a very strong cocktail she had been served earlier by a rather drunk Sirius Black. She had been enjoying her evening, spent in the company of friends, but suddenly, as the clock ticked closer to midnight, and she watched everyone in the room begin to couple up, she was awash with loneliness. There were James and Lily, embraced near the stage, and Remus and Leila (though Mary had been certain they were broken up?) off to the edge of the crowd.
She was just getting ready to go searching for Emmeline – the person she most wished to ring in the new year with – when her friend emerged in the crowd, shoulders slouched with a look of disappointment smeared across her face.
"What's happened?"
"Nothing," Emmeline grumbled. "Absolutely nothing. Gideon is just making out with Freya Woods, having the absolute time of his life, and I look like a complete idiot…" suddenly her friend was in tears – the alcohol and anticipation of the evening becoming too much – and she fell into Mary's open arms.
"I hate new year's," Emmeline complained, "every year it's the same disappointment!"
Suddenly the band had stopped playing and the lead singer took to his mic to inform the room that it was twenty seconds until 1978.
"I'm sure it was just a meaningless drunk snog," Mary tried to console her friend, desperate to ring in the new year with some semblance of joy.
"But why couldn't he have a meaningless drunk snog with me?"
"Ten seconds!" Everyone in the room began to countdown. Mary rubbed Emmeline's back soothingly, looking up to find Alice approaching with Dorcas Meadowes, both girls appearing equally as uncomfortable as Mary felt.
"What's wrong with her?" Alice asked as Emmeline drew away, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
"Five! Four!"
"New Year's sucks," she proclaimed.
"Join the club," Alice nodded.
"Three! Two!"
"At the very least I am happy to be ringing the new year in with you guys."
"With this sorry lot?" Dorcas quipped, Mary, suppressing her laughter as the room erupted into cheers, confetti and balloons raining from the ceiling as everyone in the room rang in the new year.
"Cheer up love," Mary said, giving Emmeline a big kiss on the cheek. "It's just one night."
Mary was grateful when Dorcas suggested that they go get shots to celebrate. Emmeline was moody but she was not about to give up the opportunity to drown her sorrows in alcohol and so she agreed, joining them. With most people having rushed into the ballroom for the countdown, the kitchen was empty, giving the girls full range.
"How has your evening been Al?" Mary asked naively.
"Well, not only is Frank here with Cecily Turner, they have actually started dating each other."
"Fuck," Mary cursed, heartbroken for her friend. Alice had been reckless and screwed up her relationship with Frank, but Mary had seen her pay the price tenfold. It seemed wrong that she should have a new relationship shoved in her face so soon.
"I hate Cecily Turner," Emmeline seethed, she and Alice finding some common ground. As the two of them slipped into a discussion about how endlessly irritating they found the Ravenclaw witch, Mary stepped back, leaning against the counter beside Dorcas.
"How has your evening been?"
"Oh fine," Dorcas shrugged. "I'm just here for Alice really."
Mary looked across the room towards the aforementioned witch but instead, her eyes caught on someone passing through the hall behind Alice, just a glimpse of them as they went by the kitchen doorway.
"Everything alright?" Dorcas asked as Mary jolted upright suddenly, stepping towards the hall.
"Yeah…I just…I saw someone I know…" she said no more, wandering off.
"Reg!" she called out after the lanky, ginger-haired boy approaching the ballroom. He spun around mouth agape.
"Oh, hi," he greeted her awkwardly.
"I didn't know you were coming tonight?"
"Well…" he stared at his feet, more anxious than Mary had seen him in quite some time. "The truth is, I came here for you."
"Me?"
"The plan was to get here before midnight," he sighed, running a hand through his floppy hair. "Clearly that failed. I got roped into helping my mum with her annual new year's party and it wasn't until the last minute I even worked up the courage to come here—"
"All for me?" Mary was baffled. Sure, she'd known that Reg had a crush on her – that much was clear – but never in a million years had she expected the shy, awkward guy she'd been forced into going on a blind date with to make a move.
"I haven't stopped thinking about you since we left Hogwarts," Reg confessed. "You're pretty much all I think about every day, all the time, it's pathetic really, my brothers made sure to remind me of that plenty…" he couldn't meet her glance as he spoke, his cheeks bright red. Mary stepped towards him.
"No one has ever done anything like that for me," she said. She had not spent her break thinking of Reg. Instead, she'd been dreaming about a life in which she knew, really knew, what it meant to be loved. Little had she known; such a thing was right under her nose.
"I've pretty much been in love with you from the moment we met."
"That's a big statement," she cautioned him.
"I mean it." Reg took a deep breath, standing up tall, hazel eyes finally finding Mary. "Will you give me a chance?"
"Of course," she agreed, closing the space between them to press her lips to Reg's. Had he asked even a week ago she might have been plagued with worries about whether or not Reginald Cattermole was the type of guy she should be seen around school with. What a silly concern. What a stupid thing to even think about. Mary could not imagine now denying an opportunity to let someone love her, to allow someone who looked at her with the kind of plain affection Reg did to finally take care of her heart.
The party had begun to clear out following the fireworks show which took place after the countdown. As usual, Sirius and James set off homemade fireworks which burst into bright colours forming the shape of dragons and phoenixes soaring across the night sky to hoots of approval from the crowd. Usual, Sirius took much more pride in the whole event. He and James spent months preparing their show but tonight, watching from the back lawn as the sky exploded in technicolour, he could find little enjoyment in the event.
Instead, he was forced to stand a few feet away from Marlene and Henry; who kept his arm wrapped tightly around Marlene's waist as they watched the sky explode with colour. It was difficult not to glare in their direction every chance he got – infuriated by the fact that they had ruined his night.
Even the presentation of his Christmas gift from the boys – a flying motorbike which had been charmed by James and Remus to soar the skies – did little to raise Sirius' spirits. Instead, he spent the evening drowning his sorrows in booze and flirtations. Now, as the night came to an end, he found himself sitting on one of the sofas in the ballroom, a beer in one hand, watching with disgust as couples slow danced in the middle of the balloon filled dance floor before him.
"Didn't expect to find you looking so glum." Sirius looked up and there was Emmeline Vance, tall, in a long, silk white dress which clung to her skin. She dropped down onto the couch beside Sirius, sighing.
"I'm not glum," he argued, chugging from his beer as he continued to shoot daggers at the couples on the dance floor in front of him.
"Aren't they disgusting?" Emmeline sneered. "Rubbing their happiness in everyone else's face." He had not expected company in his misery and yet, Sirius did not want to turn Emmeline away. Instead, he nodded his head and passed her his half-finished bottle of beer to swig from.
"I had no clue there was a cynical side to you, Vance."
"You must not know me very well then," Emmeline replied, red lips turning up. "Fuck love," she said, taking a gulp of beer before passing the bottle back to Sirius.
"Fuck love," he agreed, doing the same. "What do you say we get out of here?"
"And go where?" Emmeline's eyebrows rose curiously. Sirius finished his bottle of beer, setting it aside on the edge of the bench, before standing up and offering Emmeline his hand. Truthfully, they'd barely shared more than a few words in their time together at Hogwarts. They had the same friends and were both in the same house and year yet, Sirius realized as he led Emmeline from the ballroom, he had never once been alone with her.
Perhaps it was the alcohol which gave him the courage to pull her aside, or the fact that he wanted so terrible to do the most self-destructive things possible after watching Marlene embrace Henry all night long. They hurried down the empty hall and took a sharp right into Alec's office, Sirius shutting the door behind them.
"What is this?"
Sirius pulled his wand from the pocket of his trousers and gave it a flick, turning on the lights. It was a round room, a heavy mahogany desk at the back, nearest the windows – which were currently covered with dark crimson curtains. Sirius made a left to the cabinet against the wall, opening up the top compartment where he knew Alec kept a stash of the best liquor.
"Aha," he exclaimed, drawing down a bottle of malt whiskey.
"Bougie," Emmeline smirked. She propped herself up on the edge of the desk, long legs dangling over the edge. Sirius took a gulp and considered simply handing the bottle to Emmeline but instead he approached her, holding the bottle over her mouth as he poured it in. She giggled, alcohol rolling down her chin as she sat up.
"If only I was cultured enough to enjoy this stuff," she laughed, coughing as the alcohol made its way down.
"It's an acquired taste," he told her. "My mother was a big fan of course. It was all she drank and so it was all I had to steal as a kid."
"I might be jealous of your wealth if I didn't know how much your family sucked."
"Me too," Sirius agreed, making her smile. He was surprised when he felt Emmeline's legs draw around his waist, her violet eyes looking into his face expectantly.
"Well then," she said, licking her red-stained lips. "How about we help each other forget about our worries?"
She was drunk, that much was clear. Sirius wasn't certain Emmeline would have the nerve to make such a suggestion were they both sober. She was beautiful and funny, not to mention he himself was drunk enough to believe that shagging Emmeline Vance could remain a secret no one else would ever need to know, especially Marlene.
"Just this one time," he said, voice lowered as he inched his face towards hers. "To help us forget."
"Exactly," Emmeline agreed and suddenly there was no stopping it. Her lips were pressed against his, his arms wrapped around her, and they were both goners.
Whether Sirius knew it then or not mattered little, it was official, he would begin 1978 by making an utter and complete mess of things.
