Bertha Jorkins was completely no-nonsense. She'd organized a timetable for our matches and pinned it to a noticeboard outside the Hippogriff pitch. The first match scheduled was a pre-cup scrimmage at the end of term. We wouldn't begin league games until after winter hols, and in the meantime, all eight teams would be training hard.

The first real match was scheduled for the third Saturday in January, giving us about two weeks to get back into shape after the holiday.

Just the thought of that particular week back was enough to set me on edge for the whole of November.

I ran my practices as efficiently as I could so that Abed and I had built up enough stamina to keep steady averages in our mock races. The Prewett brothers kept us lighthearted and pulled the occasional prank, and Caradoc continued to scratch his head at Harriet's ability to beat him at every single race, no matter how fast he was going. Jen kept track of our practices, happy to take notes from the stands.

During one particularly grueling night, when I was basking in the chill November air around me, I received an owl.

Folded into a bright red envelope was a message from the Head Boy.

Heads' Office ASAP! Need to ask a favor.

-J

I frowned, wondering what sort of favor required an emergency owl.

"Alright, chums, pack it in!" I called to my teammates.

One by one, my players flew down before me, dismounting gracefully, bright-eyed, and covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Early night, Captain?" quipped Gideon, grinning sunnily. "Don't tell me you've gone soft on us."

I raised an eyebrow, but couldn't help the slight tilt at the corners of my lips. "You already owe me three laps for spelling rabbit ears onto your brother's arse, Gids. Don't push it."

"Aww, but Fabian didn't mind, did ya, Fae?" Gideon and Fabian flashed me identical grins. "Besides, you laughed!" he added as Fabian scratched his bottom absentmindedly.

"That's beside the point. But no; unfortunately, it's emergency Head duties for me. Just got an owl."

Jen tapped me on the shoulder. "I can watch them the rest of practice and fill you in later, Lil. You go on ahead."

"Marvelous plan!" piped in Caradoc. "I think I've nearly understood the properties of Harriet's Cushioning Charm! Might be just the thing!"

Harriet rolled her eyes. "How many times have I got to tell you, Doc? It's not the broom!" She mounted her broom and took off. "It's the flyer!"

"She's got a point there, Doc," said Abed shyly.

The Doc stroked his chin thoughtfully. "But she didn't beat me on a Cleansweep."

"Might be psychological," added Jen. "Perhaps she just felt out of sorts on the other broom and it affected her flying."

Harriet dismounted and fixed me with a wary stare. "Captain, put me out of my misery."

"Alright. Switch brooms with the Doc. That should settle things once and for all." I turned to my besty matey. "Jen, I want a controlled experiment, control for variables, and a thorough report on your findings. If this thing with the Head Boy doesn't take up too much time, I might be back before practice is officially over!"

Jen nodded and the rest of my team saluted mock-solemnly as I dashed off to the front doors of the castle on my broomstick (which is technically not allowed, but I didn't have any time to waste). I Transfigured the broomstick into a book and clasped it in my hands as I ran up the steps, through the doors, and all the way to the Heads' office.

I had barely broken a sweat, and though my heart was racing, I wasn't keeling over to breathe like I might have done just a few months ago before all this Operation Fire Dragon training.

Not that I would ever admit that aloud.

Nonetheless, I was still quite sweaty from practice and cast a light Scourging Charm on myself just outside the door. It was the polite thing to do.

I walked into the office to find James pacing the width of the room, a long parchment spread out over the table behind him.

"James?" I asked.

I seemed to have pulled him from somewhere far away, because he stumbled in surprise, a hand going to his chest.

"Lily!" he said, as soon as he recovered. "You made it!"

I walked over to him. His brows were drawn together in a heavy crease. "What's wrong?"

He dropped his gaze and worried at his bottom lip, frowning. "Tonight's the full moon and I accidentally—I forgot. I signed up for rounds."

"Oh, so I'll cover for you." That wasn't such a big deal; I didn't understand why he'd called me out of practice for this of all things. He could have waited. When he still wouldn't look at me, however, I realized there must be something else going on. I took one of his shaking hands in mine. "James, what's wrong?"

"Er," he hesitated, and blinked back at the parchment laid out on the table. "I'm really sorry to drag you into this, Lily, but Sniv—I mean Snape's the only other prefect available tonight." He turned back to give me a sheepish look. "I've been poring over everyone's timetables for hours trying to find literally anyone else to do the job, but it looks like it's just the two of you..."

"Oh," I said, my face falling in spite of myself.

"Yeah," he said, looking forlorn and miserable. "I know it's a terrible thing to ask you. I shouldn't have asked at all. D'you know—forget I said anything. Sorry for pulling you out of practice. I'll just be late to meet the lads. They can manage without me for a few hours."

"James." I slid both my hands up his arms to his shoulders, and smiled with satisfaction as his arms automatically slipped around my waist. "It's alright. I can manage with Sev for a few hours. Go. Be with Remus."

He frowned down at me, uncertain. "Lily, you don't have to do this. I'm saying I can handle it."

"And I'm saying I don't mind, honestly."

"Are you sure?"

I looked him straight in the eyes. "Positive."

His body relaxed and he pressed a kiss to my temple in gratitude. "You're the best girlfriend a bloke could ever ask for."

I grinned. "Well, I'm glad you know."

He smirked. "Snape'll probably try to goad you into admitting Moony's a werewolf, especially since he'll figure it's why I've left my rounds to you tonight."

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled his warm body against mine in a comfortable hug. "Good thing my Jelly Legs Jinx is in top form, then."

His laugh shook me pleasantly and I smiled up at him. "Not exactly the best example to set as a Head Girl," he said in a low voice, pulling away slightly.

"I just rode my broomstick here, so I've got a streak to maintain."

James laughed again, his fingers tangling with the ends of my hair. "I expect this level of understanding from you the next time I've jinxed Longbottom's head into a pumpkin."

I rolled my eyes. "Dream on, Potter."

He grinned. "As you wish, Evans."

Reluctantly, I disentangled myself from him, still smiling. "I should head back to practice."

James interlaced our fingers. "I'll walk you out. I'm headed in that direction myself." He waved his wand over the parchment on the table, which folded itself neatly and filed itself away.

Just as we were leaving, I remembered my Transfigured broom and ran back inside to clutch it to my chest gratefully. James fixed me with a puzzled stare.

"Studying while running practice? That's a bit of a stretch, even for you, Lily Evans."

I grinned conspiratorially at him. "No, James." I held the book out to him to read the cover.

"'Cleansweep 1977.' Is it a manual? That doesn't exactly disprove my point."

I pretended to swat him with the book and tutted. "It's my broom!"

He gaped. "Let me see that!" he said, and snatched the book from my hands. He flipped through it. "Holy Hufflepuff." He adjusted his glasses and read quickly down the pages.

"What?" I asked, lowering his arms so that I could sneak a peek. The book was covered in arithmancy problems and ancient runes. I turned wide eyes on him. "Is that what I think it is?"

"How did we not think of this before?" he asked in awe. "This is like—the code for all the charms and spells and magical materials that go into making a Cleansweep." He flipped to the back of the book, where the pages were blank, then flipped back through to examine the pages and pages of alchemical equations. "It just sort of stops three quarters of the way through, though. Bet Transfiguring objects into books is a common way to try and replicate products and the Cleansweep makers have put a block on the entire recipe."

"Still, it could be useful," I murmured, my finger stopping beside what appeared to be a Cushioning Charm equation. "My teammates are trying to figure out whether or not it's the Cushioning Charm on a broom that makes it easier to fly or if it's just the skills inherent to a flyer."

James hummed a sound that seemed to communicate he was impressed with such an endeavor. "Yeah, this could be helpful." Though his tone didn't exactly inspire much confidence. "Doubt it, but maybe."

"Right," I said, shutting the book closed and taking his hand in mine. "Well, if I recall, you promised me a walk to the pitch."

He leaned down and kissed my temple again. "That I did."

As we walked down the grounds toward the Hippogriff pitch and the edge of the Forbidden Forest, James regaled me with tales of some of his past adventures as Prongs, his (unregistered) animagus form.

"Well, as you can imagine, you get very thirsty in your animagus form, but you can sniff out the nearest source of water. Now, because Peter's a rat, he mostly has to hitch a ride on either Sirius or me. He can't keep up otherwise."

I glanced up at the twilit sky. "Does this mean you also see like a stag, then? Do you see different colors?"

James gave me a sidelong glance. "It's hard to say. Yes, my perception is a bit different, but it's still me under it all."

"Is it like being in a submarine?" I asked.

"A what?"

"Oh," I said. I'd forgotten. I explained to him what a Muggle submarine was, and after grimacing through their exact purpose, he shook his head.

"No, it's not like I'm trying to control a metal ship, or like wearing an exoskeleton that isn't mine, because it is me, but different. Like—have you ever had a part of your body Transfigured before?"

I cocked my head to the side, thinking back. "Yes! Last year, was it? Mary thought she was being funny, adding the transformation suffix to any animal she could think up in Latin. She Transfigured my legs into dragon legs for a whole minute and a half before she stopped freaking out long enough to change me back."

He positively cracked up. "Oh, I wish I could have seen that!"

"Prat," I answered, poking him in the side. It only made him laugh harder. "I remember feeling very cold as a dragon. I tried to jump into the fireplace, just before Mary figured out the counterspell."

James nodded, grinning. "I sometimes end up eating so much grass for hours on end if I—turn—on an empty stomach. I once Transfigured back and upchucked a whole twig. Not pleasant."

"Yeah, that's vile," I agreed. "What happens to your clothes?" I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. "I mean, I imagine when you Transfigure back, you have to find them before you can sneak back up to the castle."

"Well, the lads and I do try to keep track of our clothing, but I can't say we've never trudged back up totally starkers before."

I tried to keep that particular image out of my head.

James. Totally starkers.

Except then I thought of the lot of them running up starkers—James, Sirius, Peter—and I burst into laughter. "You're all mad."

James shrugged, a smile pulling at his lips. "Eh, we survive."

"Just barely," and then I lost it because I'd said a pun—a very bad pun—and James rolled his eyes in mock-disgust.

We'd approached the noticeboard outside of the pitch, and James's quick gaze took it all in. "Your scrimmage is on the same day as my match against Slytherin."

"What?" I said, smartly, the humor leaving my body in one sudden bolt.

He pointed to the date Bertha Jorkins had written on the very official notice. "Here, see? The 9th of December." He fished around his pockets and pulled out a neatly folded parchment. With an agile flick of the wrist, he'd opened up the page to a very meticulous timetable. "It updates magically, according to whose won which matches, but it's been written in there for at least two weeks."

"Well, what time's your match? Surely, they won't overlap."

My eyes flicked over to the noticeboard. Our scrimmage was set for two o'clock in the afternoon.

"You know our matches are always at ten in the morning. But I reckon you'll want to get your team warmed up before the scrimmage."

"I'm not going to miss your match, James."

"I'm saying, I'd understand if you had to."

His eyes were smiling at me beneath his glasses and I knew he wasn't just trying to be a good boyfriend. He genuinely meant it. I was filled with a sudden warmth that caused me to shiver in the cold air.

"I appreciate that," I said, finally. I reached up on tiptoe to brush our lips together. His arms snaked around my waist and he lifted me up slightly, pulling me against him as he kissed me deeply. I practically melted against him, my own hands going up to cup his face, and run my fingers through his thick, jet-black hair.

Finally, he pulled away, and set me back down. I bit my lip shyly, because there was nothing more I wanted to do than to kiss James Potter for the next thousand tomorrows of my life.

He cleared his throat and flashed me a smile, tucking a loose lock of my hair behind my ear. "And I appreciate that."

"Tosser."

James grinned and he leaned down to kiss my cheek softly. "I'll see you in the morning, love."

My heart fluttered at the nickname, which was ridiculous because all sorts of people had called me "love" before, but the way James said it, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, the way his voice seemed to caress the word as it made its way to me—it made me light and warm and giddy and full. My heart was full. Full of James and his intoxicating kisses, his ridiculous stories, his generosity, his attention, his smiling eyes.

He practically disappeared into the darkness, and I practically floated into the pitch, my hand going up to my cheek to feel exactly where James had kissed it.

"Okay, that's something," oohed Jen, rummaging through my Transfigured Cleansweep 1977 book once I'd explained to her what I'd done. The rest of the team were spread about the pitch, collecting beaters' bats and Stunning bludgers out of the air.

"What about the experiment?" I asked her, eyeing the clipboard she'd tucked under her arm.

"It was rubbish," called a nearby Fabian.

I turned an exasperated glare at him. "Oi, I can just as easily spell those rabbit ears back on, you know."

He grinned. "I wouldn't say no, but you'd have to buy me dinner first, Cap."

"Cheeky," I shot back, my eyes narrowing. "Careful there."

Harriet jogged over to me, a beater's bat in hand. "Ah, don't mind Fae, Cap. Though, I've noticed he listens best when there's a beater's bat in my hand."

Fabian stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed at him.

Harriet turned back to me. "But unfortunately, the cheeky bastard's right. The whole thing was a total waste."

I groaned. "What happened?"

Jen pursed her lips, but didn't answer, and flipped through another page of the book.

Caradoc ambled up behind Harriet, his wand pointing up at a Levitated Bludger. He fixed his bright orange glasses on his nose and adjusted his for-practice-only headband onto his locs. "We rode on each other's brooms, like you said, Captain, only I was worse on Seabury's and she was terrible on mine."

"So it's not the broom or the flyer," I concluded.

The Doc shrugged. "Seems that way." His eyes landed on Jen and his eyes brightened with curiosity. "What's that?"

Jen tapped the book with her wand, which Transfigured back into my Cleansweep for a moment, then Transfigured it back into the book. Without a word, she shoved it at a gaping and impressed Caradoc.

He handed his wand to Harriet, who wordlessly accepted it to peer over his shoulder as he perused the book. He thumbed through it like a maniac until he found whatever it was he was looking for.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, tapping the page furiously with his fingers. "We're all wrong!"

Abed silently Levitated Caradoc's Stunned bludger into a storage trunk, then Spelled it shut while Harriet returned the Doc's wand to his front robe's pocket. By now, the Prewett twins had both gathered around, eager to understand what exactly was going on. I was trying not to burst with pride at how naturally they all worked together. Like a real team!

"How do you mean?" I asked when Caradoc failed to elaborate.

"The last quarter of the book is blank!" he said excitedly.

Jen stared at him. "Yeah, and?"

"Isn't it an infringement block?" I pressed.

Caradoc nodded. "Could be, could be."

I frowned at Jen, who appeared more annoyed than ever.

"But—?" coaxed Jen through gritted teeth.

Caradoc smiled at her, his expression going suddenly goofy. "Well, I could be wrong again, but maybe—maybe… Seabury, may I see your broom? For research."

Harriet let out the most suffering groan in the history of groans and Summoned her broom from the edge of the pitch. "Doc, I'm gonna skin you alive for research if nothing comes of this."

That particular threat didn't seem to bother Caradoc, as he ever so gently tapped Harriet's broomstick and Transfigured it into a book.

Harriet gasped and immediately smacked Caradoc. "Oi! What have you done, you great loon?"

He shrugged her off and flipped instead to the end of the book. He looked up at us and grinned.

"Oh my Godric," breathed Jen.

"Merlin's left elbow!" I exclaimed.

Gideon snorted.

I ignored him and leaned over Caradoc's discovery. The pages weren't blank. They were running over with magical signatures—Harriet's magical signature.

"Oh, sweet Salazar," I said. "It's both. The broom and the flyer. If we own our own brooms, then somehow, our magical signatures are automatically locked into the broom's magic."

"And just as I suspected, the Cushioning Charm is also affected," added Caradoc. "In the school's broom, we get the standard arithmancy formula for an industrial strength Cushioning Charm. But Harriet's—look."

I grabbed the book and read over where he'd pointed. Within the arithmancy formula were added characters, which would likely solve to Harriet's magical signature. "It conforms specifically to her magic!"

Jen frowned. "I thought the only thing that affected an industrial strength Cushioning Charm on brooms was a target-detection charm?"

Caradoc nodded. "Until you add personalized magic. Nice what money can buy."

I frowned. "It seems so unfair, don't you think? And anyway, how does a broom know if you own it or not? Does a shopkeeper add the signature to the broom's magic?"

Harriet cleared her throat. "I can ask my mam. She's the one that got it for me two years ago."

Caradoc nodded enthusiastically. "Please!"

"Alright. Now, change it back, please," Harriet ordered, and Caradoc obliged, tapping his wand against the hard spine of the book and handing over Harriet's broom. "Thank you and please don't ever do that again."

"Well team," I said, looking up at everyone. "Seems we might be on to something!"

Jen smirked, and I spotted a bit of interest hiding behind the exasperated look she threw in Caradoc's direction.

Hmm…

By the time we'd gotten up to the castle, after a rousing sing-through of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody," it was nearly time for my rounds. I didn't have time to bathe properly before I met Severus, so after a quick change into school robes and another Cleansing Charm, I bounded to the Entrance Hall, where it was customary to meet one's partner for prefect rounds.

Severus arrived at exactly ten o'clock, his face impassive, eyes distant, shoulders cold. He nodded at me exactly once, apparently having understood that I was taking over for James, and immediately set off for the staircases without a word.

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly detached a retina. I mean, would it have killed him to say hello?

I followed behind him, annoyed.

We worked our way through the first and second floors silently, Severus checking his wristwatch every so often as though he couldn't wait to get this over with and do literally anything else. We were just going up to the third floor when the staircases shifted, and we ended up in the east wing of the fifth floor instead.

"Bugger," I muttered. The last thing I wanted was for these rounds to go on any longer than absolutely necessary.

Severus gave me a sidelong glance, but I wasn't entirely sure what he meant by it. Impassive bother that he was and everything.

It was then that I absentmindedly began humming the opening piano lines to "Bohemian Rhapsody." I was more than shocked to discover Severus humming along after a few measures.

As soon as I grinned at him, however, he seemed to have noticed what he'd been doing, and stopped altogether, walking ahead a few paces so I couldn't see his face.

"My team and I were just singing that," I said softly, hoping to assuage his obvious embarrassment. "And now it's stuck in my head."

Severus nodded, but didn't say anything for several long moments. Instead, he checked his wristwatch again.

Just when I was about to sigh as we looked into another empty corridor, he actually started to make conversation. "Your Hippogriff team?"

"Yeah," I answered. "The Millennium Falcons."

He stiffened a little, his back going ramrod straight. "That's what you've called yourselves?" he scoffed.

"Yes. What's your team called?"

Severus slowed down a little so that I caught up to him and could see his face. His ever-impassive face, the one with absolutely no way in, made of ice and agony.

I'd cast a Warming Charm on his face if I thought it would help.

He gave me a wary look and answered, "The Twenty-Eights."

"The Twenty-Eights?" I repeated, bewildered. "The twenty-eight what?"

He shrugged. "Emperors of the Sky."

"Huh." I played with the hem of my sleeve. "I suppose that's rather fitting, for a Hippogriff team."

He nodded sharply and turned back towards the staircases, skipping the hidden corridor behind a nearby tapestry.

"Wait, we've got to look through there," I said.

"It's not on our route." He checked his wristwatch again and pursed his lips.

"It's not on anyone's route. Our routes are outdated. But we all know this corridor exists, so we have to check it."

He clenched his jaw, but followed me through the tapestry anyway. He sent a jet of light down the length of the corridor, which revealed an empty passage. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I rolled my eyes.

"Fine, we can go."

Severus led us back toward the staircases and we circled back down to the third floor. "We'd be faster if we split up," he said. "Save loads of time."

"We're not supposed to split up," I replied. Besides, if we'd suddenly split up, how could I know for sure that he'd done his fair share of our rounds? He could just as easily go back to his common room and I'd be none the wiser.

He didn't answer, but I didn't miss him glancing at his wristwatch again.

Merlin, couldn't he just suffer through this without being such a pretentious prat about it?

Floors three and four went by in complete silence, with the occasional muttered "Lumos!" as we checked dark corners for any rule-breaking students. And because Severus wouldn't stop checking his fucking watch, we skipped the fifth floor and went straight to floor six. It was here that he decided to speak again.

"The Millennium Falcons," he mumbled. "I don't get it."

"Oh, it's from Star Wars," I explained, trying to sound as casual as possible, knowing that as soon as he realized it was a Muggle thing, he'd become far more sensitive than he was already.

"Star Wars?" he asked. "That idiotic Muggle film from the summer?" He sneered at the thought.

I fixed him with a challenging stare. "How d'you know it's idiotic?" I asked.

His jaw clenched again. "Because it's—it's Muggle."

"So was the printing press, but that hasn't stopped you from trying to get in on the action," I countered.

He scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. "You're so blind, Lily. You always have been."

I tried not to let this uncomfortable allusion of familiarity bother me. "Blind to what?" I asked.

"Blind to the actual problem," he answered.

I turned to face him. "And what problem is that?"

"That Muggles want us dead. And no amount of disco hits or stupid films or funny haircuts is going to change that. Do you really think that if they knew who you truly were, they wouldn't try to kill you?"

My whole body seized up, a wave of barely contained rage coming over me and threatening to spill above the surface. "My parents know who I truly am, and they would never try to have me or you killed," I snapped. "Or did you forget about all the summers you spent with them?"

"Well what about Tuney? If she weren't your sister, I know she'd have tried it."

My fingers itched toward my wand. "You leave Petunia out of this," I warned, my voice low. "And it's not like I couldn't defend myself, even if she did try. But she wouldn't."

"So you're saying that if she tried to kill you, you'd be okay with it?" he asked, incredulously.

"I'm saying that it wouldn't happen, and hypothetically, if it did happen, I have magic!"

Severus's normally unexpressive face twitched slightly. "So you'd use magic to defend yourself against a Muggle?"

"Only if it was between that and getting murdered," I said, rolling my eyes. "But I wouldn't try to kill them back. Probably just jinx them."

His nostrils flared in mild disgust. "If a Muggle tried to kill me, you can be sure I'd more than just jinx them. We should be able to use magic to put Muggles in their place, don't you think?"

"What are you talking about? What is their place? They aren't our enemy, Sev!" And suddenly, it was like fifth year all over again, because Severus's face was cracking.

His walls were crashing down in a violent scowl. "They've made us hide away! They've made us cower in fear and secrecy! And yet you'd want us to make nice with them? Mix our blood with them? They're outbreeding us by the millions while we struggle to maintain our tiny populations, which have been decimated by hundreds of years of persecution!"

I stared at him, wondering where in the world all of this 100% bullshit was coming from, and how it was that such a smart, level-headed person could believe something so obviously made-up and irrational. He was like a human propaganda machine and it was distressing to hear him spew it around like an automated puppet giving printed out fortunes at a carnival.

"Persecution?" I whispered in disbelief. "Severus, you don't even know the meaning of the word."

"Tobias Snape," he answered. "He's the only example I need."

I blinked. Tobias was Sev's completely Muggle dad, and from what I could tell, he would get physically abusive if either he or his mum did any magic. Sev had to learn how to control his magic early, or else he'd get quite the beating.

"Your dad's a bad example," I said faintly. "You can't blame all Muggles for what your dad's done, Sev."

"I don't blame Muggles," he answered coolly. "I blame witches and wizards who believe we're better off a secret. If Muggles only knew what we were capable of doing, they wouldn't dare hurt us." His black eyes brightened in sudden realization. "They'd be too frightened, and they should be."

I bit my lip, understanding the source of Sev's beliefs. "I understand. I'm sorry about your dad, Severus, truly, I am. But it doesn't do to make us more afraid of each other. Fear doesn't help anyone. It only divides us further."

"We're already divided." He laughed humorlessly. "And do you know why?"

"Whatever the reason, Muggles don't deserve to be murdered for it," I said sternly, before he could blame Muggles for killing any actual witches or wizards during the witch trials.

"Are you fucking serious? They murdered their own kind!"

I placed my hand gingerly on his arm. "Your kind. Our kind," I corrected. "Because of fear."

He snatched his arm out of my grasp and gave me a deadly glare that seemed to want to pierce right through my very being and tear it to shreds. "Fuck you, Lily."

His robes billowed behind him as he stormed down the corridor. I knew better than to follow him, and it's not like I could have if I'd wanted to follow him, anyway. I felt stuck in place, the shock and horror of our conversation rolling around my head in unending waves of confusion and incredulity.

He hated himself.

His father.

Muggles.

Me.

I got to bed later than usual after my blowout with Severus. We couldn't even talk about the most mundane of things without it getting political or personal or polarized.

I knew we couldn't be friends anymore, but at this point, any question of civility was Disapparating quicker than a Chudley Cannons keeper. Severus wasn't the only Slytherin on my mind, however.

I'd handed out exactly one detention that night, shortly after Severus had parted my company. Regulus Black had overheard our argument, and I could barely get the words out.

"Out after curfew. That's detention."

His grey eyes, so much like Sirius's, blinked widely, and he'd nodded, long black hair falling elegantly over his handsome face. They looked so much alike, it was almost painful thinking about their estrangement.

But Regulus hadn't tried to get out of detention, and he went directly towards his common room. He hadn't insulted me, or sneered, either. I wondered vaguely what he'd thought about my conversation with Severus, if he'd heard enough, if he had any opinions about anything we'd argued over at all.

The full moon shone brightly through the north-facing window, and my thoughts drifted from Regulus and Sirius to Sirius and Remus, Peter, and James. I wondered what they all did together. I vaguely imagined an intelligent-faced rat sitting between the giant antlers of a stag, a large black dog trotting happily alongside, its great pink tongue lolling out of its mouth, and a weary-eyed wolf leading his mismatched pack through the moonlit forest.

"How do they even talk to each other?" I murmured to myself as I closed the hangings of my four-poster shut, and crawled beneath my red and gold tartan quilt.

I vaguely registered making a mental note to ask James before my head hit the pillow and I fell fast asleep.

A loud rustling woke me up far too soon for my liking, followed by a series of murmurs, and a sudden glow of dull early morning light hitting me right in the face. I burrowed under my blanket in protest, but someone pulled it up and then let it fall.

"He's not there," said a voice. "I don't know how he'd ever get up here, but he's most definitely not here. Would you mind telling Black, Sruthi?"

"Sure, Marley," answered another, higher-pitched voice.

From this short conversation, I deduced that Marlene and Sruthi had been the ones responsible for my unceremonious awakening.

"What's going on?" I asked, bleary-eyed and frowning.

The blurry vision of Marlene in a silk hair-wrap and dressing gown swam into focus. Beside her stood an alarmed Sruthi.

"It's the Captain," Marlene said. "Black's looking for him."

My frown deepened. "And—and he sent you to my bed?!"

"Well, you are his girlfriend," pointed out Sruthi.

"Yes, but—" I blushed profusely. "Never mind. Where's Sirius?"

Marlene smirked. "He said he was on his way to the Hospital Wing. Wasn't feeling well, or something."

I immediately shot up out of bed. If Sirius didn't know where James was, then something must have happened to separate them last night.

"Do you want to send a message?" asked Sruthi. "I'm on my way to see him."

"Oh," I said, slipping my shoes on over my sleep socks. "I might just go see him myself, so you don't need to go at all."

Sruthi cocked her head. "You sure?" she said, and yawned hugely. "Because I wouldn't mind getting back to bed."

After I assured Sruthi that I was more than willing to trudge all the way to the Hospital Wing to meet Sirius at this ungodly hour, she crawled into my bed and pulled the hangings closed.

Meanwhile, Marlene had unwrapped her curls from her hair wrap and changed into sweatpants and trainers. "Got to stay in shape! It's all about discipline!" she exclaimed, and then took off through the portrait hole.

She was too committed for my own tastes, and I suddenly didn't mind so much that she was Galadriel and I was a Shire hobbit. I preferred plenty of breakfasts, anyway.

The Hospital Wing was dark, all the curtains still closed. At the far end of the vast room, behind a screen, I heard low murmuring. I approached the bed as quickly as I could, and was not disappointed to find Sirius cuddled up next to Remus on a hospital bed.

Remus's head lay on Sirius's shoulder, and Sirius was staring down fondly at his weary face, two dark circles pressed like violets under his amber eyes.

"Lily," he said, his voice ghostly.

"I, erm, brought chocolate," I said, pulling out a bar of Honeyduke's finest from my dressing gown. I set it on the night table beside him.

He smiled. "Thank you."

"Prongs send you out here all alone, did he?" asked Sirius, pouting.

"No, he didn't," I answered, frowning as I surveyed the room. "Where's Peter?"

"In the dorms, sleeping," he answered casually. Then, he looked up and rolled his eyes. "The wanker."

I snorted. "And when was the last time you saw James?"

"After dinner," Sirius said, his hands playing with Remus's hair. "In the common room."

I gasped. "Wait, you didn't see him at all last night?"

Sirius sat up a little, concern finally wedging itself between his brows. "No. I thought he was with you—Head duties or something? I figured he couldn't get out of them."

"No, he got out of them," I said, panic beginning to quaver my voice. "Where is he?"

"Wait, so he's not actually miraculously curled up in your bed?" Sirius said, his voice becoming sharper with worry.

I shook my head vehemently.

Sirius's grey eyes snapped to mine, and narrowed slightly. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Around half eight. He called me out of Hippogriff practice and then walked me back to the pitch. He was on his way to meet you."

"Fuck." Sirius slipped out of the hospital bed, and grimaced. He glanced back to Remus and leaned over him to place a tender kiss on his forehead. "I'll be back later, love."

Remus nodded, his eyes fluttering closed.

Sirius turned to me, his expression sobering, and my heart clenched. "Prongs is missing."

A/N: AH! So sorry for the delay, folks! Thank you for reading, as always, and I hope you've enjoyed the latest installment! Any guesses as to where Prongs has disappeared?