Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
And where there is sadness, joy.

-The Prayer of St. Francis

...

Pale morning light shone through the thin curtains surrounding her four-poster, and Lily blinked, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. She was in a bed, was it somebody else's bed? Why wasn't she in her bed?

Everything came back to her in a sickening wave, and she rubbed her eyes as if she could scrub away the memories of last night. She kissed him, no, she snogged him within an inch of his life. Lily dropped back into her pillows with a sigh. She'd said some things too, things she didn't entirely mean, and she dreaded seeing him again, knowing that they'd have to face it, whatever this was, whenever they saw each other next.

Her belly rumbled, and she groaned, rolling over. Other than the two bites of Yorkshire Pudding she had before tipping the plate, she hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before and was in desperate need of both bacon and coffee. Maybe she could ask a house-elf, but she'd still have to leave her dormitory to do so.

So much for a lie-in, she thought, tipping herself out of bed and making her way to her trunk. Even with the ample time she had yesterday afternoon, she had yet to unpack, and rifled through her things in search of something to wear. Lily was never one for the fuss and bother of fashion; she preferred something comfortable and colourful rather than put together or fashionable. She opened the lid, and observed the chaos, and first dug deep into her toiletries bag for a scrunchie before facing the rest of it.

Hair (untidily) secured, she wedged her fourth-year Herbology textbook to one side and cringed as she felt the distinct crunch of a breaking ink bottle. She sat back, defeated, and reached for her wand to clean it up.

Amelia was the expert at Charms. Had she been here, it would've been a much neater and faster job, but after a minute or two, she had repaired the glass, and the ink was back in its bottle. Having learned her lesson, she moved her textbooks out of her trunk and onto the desk beside the window. But her hands were another ordeal altogether, littered with both ink stains and the chalky residue that lined the bottom of her trunk.

She once again pulled out her toiletries bag and made her way to the toilet to start her day.

Having shared a loo with women for the majority of her life, she didn't think to knock before entering and was startled by the sudden appearance of James in his pants with a razor in his hands.

"Oh!" She said, and he blushed to his eyebrows. "I'll just leave this here," she said, placing the cloth bag on the corner of the sink. "I didn't mean to intrude; I didn't think—,"

"No, it's fine," James said, putting the razor down and picking up a brush coated in a fluffy white substance as Lily struggled to hold eye contact. "It's fine; you don't have to leave. I've almost finished this, anyway."

"I just need to wash my hands," she said, trying not to stutter before turning on the tap. James shifted to one side and carefully coated his jaw, chin, and cheeks in what she assumed to be shaving foam.

"I broke a bottle of ink," she said nervously, patting her hands dry on a hand towel.

James looked over at her in apparent distress then rushed to look at her hands, turning them gently to look at her palms as well. "Did you cut yourself?"

She pulled back her hands jerkily. "No, no. I just wanted to get the grittiness of the bottom of my trunk off of my hands before I eat."

James nodded and fiddled with his razor before turning away and back towards the mirror.

Lily looked over the loo, the single vanity and claw foot tub took up most of the space, but it was neat, well and truly. James' effects (mostly labelled glass bottles, as well as an antique silver shaving set) were lined up in a row on the shelf above the toilet. She looked down at her toiletries (mismatched Muggle and wizard, earrings tangled with hair ties and necklaces, a broken compact of her mother's, half-empty perfume bottles) and blushed to her eyebrows. She decided that the best course of action would be a swift and steady exit before she either revealed all her secrets or spontaneously burst into flames.

She leaned forward impulsively and opened the drawer attached to the vanity, unaware of how close James was to the mirror. He jumped, causing the razor to slip along his jaw.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, one hand on his chin as he felt the blood beginning to ooze.

"Oh! I am sorry," Lily said, reaching around for a tissue. "Here, apply pressure. I'll get, I'll get a soapy cloth ready,"

"A what?" James said, sticking the tissue under his hand.

"A cloth with soap on it," Lily said hurriedly, rubbing a face cloth with what appeared to be James' lemon verbena bar soap.

"I've just never had the pleasure of someone offer me a soapy cloth before,"

Lily rolled her eyes, running the cloth under the tap before applying it to his jaw. "I think this is your fault. Who shaves with a straight blade?"

"Excuse you, dignified men do, thank you very much," James said, swallowing as she applied the cloth to his cut. "Ouch, no, I'm okay. Don't fuss. The razor is my dad's, he taught me how to shave with it, and I've never used anything else."

"Well, it's just as well," Lily said with what she hoped to be a no-nonsense tone. "You can hold that, and I can brush my teeth."

James watched with bemusement bordering on endearment as she bustled about the small toilet. Her jimjams were different than the ones she was wearing last night, this morning it was a thin white nightgown with sleeves past her elbows. Her hair was everywhere, curls held in a knot at the top of her head with a piece of colourful knotted fabric. And if he looked closely enough, he could just about see—, no, no, he couldn't. Shouldn't. Even though she was right in front of him, he couldn't look, wouldn't. He wasn't a peeping tom, no sir. Let boys grow into men.

But it was domestic, this co-habitation thing, and he was loving it. Perhaps it was something he'd see more often, this sleepy-eyed nightgown donned version of Lily Evans. He didn't care much for the rowing portion of continued proximity, but the kissing, the bed hair, oh yes, that he loved very much.

Her toiletries bag, much like her school bag, was overly full and un-organized. She piled a small army of colourful bottles in the medicine cabinet before locating a bright pink toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste.

"You can probably take it off now," Lily said with a mouth full of foam. "See if it's still bleeding,"

James pulled the cloth away, the bright red stain alarming, but thankfully the cut wasn't deep. It would heal without magical intervention in a day or so.

Lily spat into the sink and rinsed her face before taking the cloth from James and Vanished the stain. She paused, tapping her wrist gently with her wand in a nervous way. "Shall I?"

"It should be fine," James said, looking at his reflection in the mirror with practiced scrutiny. "No harm is done."

Lily nodded, put her toothbrush down on the vanity before picking it up again, and made for the door.

"You can stay, honestly," James said, looking at her in the doorway. "Lily, I don't mind."

"I'm not... interrupting?"

James laughed, pulling a bottle of pale pink liquid down and pouring a bit into his hands. "Not in the slightest."

Lily rested one hand on the doorframe, watching James' reflection in the mirror. This pretty boy act was very well-practiced; he had more products than she did. But he was always rather pressed and polished, wasn't he? Fresh shave, even collars, perfectly imperfect hair—

"Nice jimjams," James said, walking over and bumping her hip with his, much to her surprise. "They look very maternal,"

"Oh shut up," she said, pushing him off.

"Do you and Minnie have a matching set?" he said, rinsing his face off and drying it on his shirt. "Shopping at the old lady's shop?"

"I do apologize for not pulling out the lingerie," Lily said, matching his tone. "It's still with Arthur, I'm afraid,"

James sputtered, his eyes wide with shock. God, had she slept with him? "It's where?"

Lily feigned a deep and purposeful thought process before continuing. "Under the bed, maybe? Could've been behind the wardrobe. I don't know. Honestly, it was quite the night."

"You—you,"

Lily laughed at the sight, James Potter with bits of toothpaste in his hair and an incredulous look on his face.

"Oh, honestly, James. Where on earth would I get lingerie? This is the best one can hope for, nighties and sleep sets from Selfridge's."

"Is there something to hope for?" James said with a sideways grin, matching her tone, flicking the lace on her sleeve.

"Don't push your luck,"

"What? Are you not one for Parisian negligees? Who would've thought, Miss dungarees and chucks?"

"I've grown out of my French phase, as it were,"

"You are something else, Lily Evans. Something else indeed."

James picked up a comb and smiled as Lily did the same. He put a bit of product in (and tried not to blush when Lily noticed his father's name on the bottle), and when the comb caught in a particularly knotty section of hair, she helped him, brushing through the tangles with a gentle hand.

Lily returned her hairbrush to the shelf and stepped back as James did the same.

"Truce?" He said unexpectedly, holding out a hand. "I know we haven't been having an easy go of it, but it's a new day, a fresh start."

Lily smiled, taking it. "Truce."

"And I promise you only have to snog me once a day," James said, one hand on the doorknob. "But I expect a good and thorough one, you understand?"

Lily nodded a funny little nod and smiled widely as the door opened and shut behind him and his (frankly) glorious arse.

She paused and turned back to her reflection in the mirror. Was this who she was now? A flirt? She had always flirted to James to some extent, but never like this. Never on purpose, just for laughs and the excuse for an extra glance spared in his general direction.

And for what, exactly? Did she want to get on with him? Date him? Lily groaned, resting on her elbows on the vanity and looking up at the mirror.

She wasn't anything particularly exotic to look at (wavy hair, wide-set eyes, a knot of freckles on her nose), but there was something to be said for her complexion, the smooth skin, and lots of it. She was tall, taller than Petunia, but still several inches shorter than James. She looked up to him, both literally and figuratively, she supposed. Her hair was long and thick, and as she grew older, it had evolved from vibrant ginger to a more muted auburn. She has always loved the little dip between her collarbones, the way her ears curved like the inner parts of a seashell, the high arch of her eyebrows. Lily smiled into the mirror and took a deep breath, preparing for the day ahead.

She turned out of the bathroom, a smile on her face and returned to her dormitory intent on nothing less than the comfortable Muggle clothes she wore on the weekends. The dungarees were her mothers, thick corduroy in a pale yellow cord that she had worn on Saturday mornings for as long as she could remember. She slipped on a pair of trainers and made for the door, where James was waiting, also wearing Muggle clothes.

"Ready, milady?" he said, offering her a hand.

"Always,"

...

Breakfast was a cheery affair, with all four house tables talking and gossiping over the regular tea and toast. Robin took a bite of bacon, sitting with her dorm mates and squinted at the high table where a strange man sat with the rest of the teachers. She wasn't wearing her glasses and poked Eileen Crump to see who it was.

"Dunno," she said in response, sitting up taller on the bench. "It's a tall bloke in black robes,"

"Have you ever seen him before?"

"Can't say I have, no,"

As much to her surprise as to anyone else's, Dumbledore rose from his seat and walked to the podium.

"What's he on about?" Lara Simpson whispered from beside her.

"I dunno,"

"A hearty good morning to all," Dumbledore said, waiting a moment or two for silence to fall. "I am pleased to announce to you all that the Ministry of Magic has seen fit to place members of their own throughout Hogwarts for the foreseeable future." Those assembled within the Great Hall gasped, and whispers broke out among the four house tables. "Due to the unfortunate climate we find ourselves in, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will spend a fortnight at Hogwarts to gain a better sense of Hogwarts' magical defences. May I introduce to you all Mr. Bartemius Crouch, and may his time at Hogwarts be an enlightening one."

A tall, slightly balding man stood, sporting a neat toothbrush mustache and black wizarding robes. He neither waved nor smiled, and the applause that followed was halfhearted and rather short-lived. But the mood of the Great Hall had changed, the happy laughter had given way to anxious whispers and charged stares at those assembled.

"The Aurors are one thing," Robin said conspiratorially. "No one ever sees them, hiding on the edges of the forest. But the Head of Magical Law Enforcement? What the hell is Dumbledore playing at?"

"Maybe it wasn't his decision," Lara said, "Maybe he was forced into it."

"What business does the Ministry have in interfering at Hogwarts?" Eileen said in a whisper. "Do you think You Know Who has followers here?"

The trio looked around in apprehension, but the Great Hall and all who occupied it looked much the same as they always did. But there was an air of suspicion upon a second glance; even she had noticed the increased hostility between Slytherin and the other three houses. Robin didn't honestly think that He Who Must Not Be Named had Death Eaters here, it was impossible, but Dumbledore would've found them if there was. But then why was Mr. Crouch called, if not for a more serious matter than what was said?

"Maybe it's just a routine thing," Robin said, the sound of many wooden benches scraping against the flagstones muffling her voice. "Like a checkup."

"By the Head of Magical Law Enforcement? Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

"Well, no," Robin said, her eyebrows creasing. "But if Dumbledore authorized it, and hasn't said anything remotely suspicious about it..."

"Exactly," Eileen said, pulling on her coat. "My father works for—,"

"The Ministry, we know,"

"And, he would've told me ages ago if someone like Mr. Crouch was coming. Or if anything was wrong. Since he didn't, it's most likely because there isn't. Nothing to be worried about."

There was a moment of silence as Lara looked suspiciously over the hall once more before getting up from the bench herself to begin the day.

...

"What about what Dumbledore said?" Marlene asked from further down the Gryffindor table. "The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement doesn't get called to Hogwarts on a whim,"

"I suppose Dumbledore has his reasons," Mary said slowly.

"Are his reasons to rein in those Aurors hiding in the forest around the loch?" Marlene said with a sardonic smile. "It's like they think You Know Who is hiding behind a tree,"

"Maybe not him," Sirius said, "but I wonder if he's been recruiting, for the Death Eaters,"

"Do you honestly think so?" Peter said, his face peaked. "Death Eaters? At Hogwarts?"

"Keep your voice down, for Merlin's sake," Remus said, turning to face Sirius. "It's possible; there have been rumours for a while about school-age recruitment. The war is getting worse with every coming day, he'll need reinforcements,"

"I didn't think it was as bad as that," Peter said, and Mary patted his hand consolingly.

"There's a war on, Pete," Sirius responded. "Things are never going to be the same as they once were."

Lily took one last bite of egg on toast before being pulled to one side by Marlene and Alice; the others focused on perhaps more severe matters.

"So how'd it go?"

"How did what go, Mars?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Marlene responded, sitting astride a bench while Alice looked on with wide eyes. "Did you or did you not shag the living daylights out of James Potter?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lily said, glancing over to where she knew James was sitting with the Marauders, a sly grin on his face. "And anyway, he has a better memory than I do,"

"Well?" Marlene said, looking over to James.

"Nothing to report, Alice," he said, leaning over with the air of feigned authority. "I'll keep you updated."

"There you go," Lily said, adjusting the strap of her dungarees. "It isn't so bad; he doesn't leave his socks all over the place like a certain someone I could name,"

"Socks are nothing," Amelia said from down the table. "I swear the dormitory has never been this quiet before."

The girls roared with laughter, and Lily rolled her eyes.

"And that damned cat of yours must've been roaming the castle looking for you because I finally slept in,"

"He's a darling if you took the chance to know him," Lily said. "Instead of locking him up in small spaces all the time."

"C'mon Lils, he's a right devil, and you know it,"

"What about Ingrid?"

"What about her?"

"Have we already forgotten the time that your 'cat' shredded my potions homework?"

"That's nothing," Marlene said from behind her. "She took up business, as it were, on my bed! In second year! That damnable creature has done more harm than she's worth."

"That was a complicated bit of magic, there, I'll have you know," Alice stage whispered while the others laughed, so tears ran down their cheeks. "Still can't bark to save her life, poor thing,"

Suddenly, the conversation around the table slowed to silence, and Lily followed Marlene's line of sight and looked up in confusion. "Oh, don't stop on account of me," Dumbledore said kindly, his eyes twinkling, "But I do require Miss Evans and Mr. Potter for a certain matter,"

Lily turned to look over at James, who seemed as confused as she was, and followed Dumbledore as he led them out of the Great Hall.

...

"My announcement this morning might have come as a shock," Dumbledore said as they walked. "I do apologize for that. In less tumultuous times, the Head Boy and Girl often aid the Headmaster in decisions regarding the student body,"

"I understand, sir," James said, walking faster to match Dumbledore's brisk pace, and Lily took a skip jump to catch up.

"I thank you," Dumbledore responded, leading them up a flight of stairs. "The pair of you have not had, as one could say, an easy way of it."

Lily exhaled. "We come from two very different backgrounds, but have recently, very recently, come to an understanding,"

"Wonderful! Cooperation between the Head Boy and Girl is paramount to a successful Headship. But you must be curious, as I would be in your places, about the nature of my unusual summoning,"

"Sort of," James said, and Lily elbowed him in the side with a sideways glance.

"Bartemius Crouch is a man with extraordinary influence over the Ministry, and in such a time as this, keeping with the status quo is of increasing importance, which is where the Ministry steps in."

"Yes I imagine it would," Lily said, feeling James' gaze on her.

Dumbledore led them through corridor after corridor, up staircases to presumably the Headmaster's office. While they walked, Lily tried to ignore the flush on her face, uncomfortable at the way a look from him could leave her all hot and bothered. He was wearing another cardigan, a deep emerald that brought out the dark tones in his eyes. His fingers, ever fidgeting, crossed and uncrossed outside of his apparent notice. She had spent many an idle hour admiring those hands from afar, long-fingered and slender, a thin wrist leading to an increasingly muscular forearm. But that was before he kissed her; before she knew what those hands would feel like tangled in her hair, how her breath would catch when he pulled her onto his hips, closer into his arms.

But here they were, walking side by side, but all that easiness they had reached this morning had yet to materialize outside of their dormitory.

At that moment, she very much so wanted to continue the conversation of this morning. Everything had seemed both so much easier and harder when they were alone.

Dumbledore led them up one last staircase, and by the time they turned the corner into the Gargoyle corridor, James stiffened beside her, and she looked over at his apparent distress.

Even when she was a Prefect, and before, she had never had a reason for visiting. Dumbledore was, and to some degree, still was a somewhat elevated and separate creature. It wasn't as if she feared him, but her respect for Professor Dumbledore lay somewhere on the spectrum of the connection she felt for the Queen of England and the Minister for Magic, not someone to love but to see and observe from afar. Someone whose daily doings had little effect on her day to day life. She looked over at him, and was shocked to see him— James Potter, ever the cool and collected one—on the verge of panic. She offered her hand, and he took it, his cool hand slipping into her own. She offered a smile, but his lips were tight, and she squeezed his hand a little tighter.

She didn't suppose he and this Mr. Crouch had had any dealings in person, but why else would he have such a reaction? Had Mr. Crouch and his father met? Had something happened? She looked up again, and all emotion had vacated his expression, and she could almost believe she had imagined it.

"Are you okay?" Lily whispered, and James pulled a half-smile before nodding quietly.

Lily felt oddly nervous, now that it came to it. What did a Minister want from the likes of them? Was Hogwarts under any real danger? Now that his immediate panic had passed, James looked strangely unperturbed at the prospect at a meeting with this Mr. Crouch, but then again, he never was one for elevating those who hadn't pleased him personally. In James' mind, respect had to be earned, and while quickly given, was also quickly revoked. James had never been one to lose a sense of oneself in the presence of anyone, and she respected and admired him for it.

She looked up to say much of the same to James when she spotted a bit of shaving foam behind his left ear and tried to resist a conciliatory laugh at this strange circumstance they found themselves in.

They waited as Dumbledore said the password ("mint humbug!") and took the spiral staircase to the door of his office.

Upon opening the door, Mr. Crouch was seated on one of the squashy armchairs before Dumbledore's desk. Upon closer inspection, this man was unlike any other she had ever known. Tall and thin, he had a severe haircut and a grave expression that didn't seem to leave his face. His narrow toothbrush mustache was neatly trimmed, and his shoes were polished to a shine. When she had first seen him this morning, he looked more like a Muggle lawyer or banker than of any magical equivalent.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Evans, this is Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Sir," James said, extending his hand.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Mr. Crouch said stiffly, rising to shake James' hand.

"We've already had the pleasure," James said, stopping mid-shake. "My father has been in and out of the Ministry for years. We've attended many of the same functions over the years."

"Is that so?" Mr. Crouch said, slightly detached. "Porter, was it?"

"Potter," Lily said, perhaps more bravely than she felt.

"Ah, Potter. The inventor, if I'm not mistaken."

"You're correct,"

"My wife is fond of your father's hair tonics," Mr. Crouch said to James, before turning to Lily. "Miss Evans, was it?"

"Pleased to meet you," Lily said, shaking his hand before taking a seat.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, steepling his fingers. "The business I have for you today is not of the pleasant sort, but I'll leave Barty to explain."

"Hogwarts is in danger," Mr. Crouch said starkly, sitting poker straight in his chair. "And while the Ministry has done much in the past months to shield the public from the actions of extremists, it has been in vain. In the past month, there have been over forty-five known Muggle and Muggle-born targeted murders in Surrey, Bath, Sussex and the greater London area. The public knows about three of them. But there has long been evidence that He Who Must Not Be Named is rallying support for his cause within the castle walls. We must act."

James' heart dropped to his stomach. His parents lived in London, were they safe? Was this why they weren't answering his post?

"What do you suggest?" Lily asked, looking calm and focused, and James tried to steady his racing heart.

"An enforced curfew," Mr. Crouch responded, folding one leg over the other. "More Prefect patrols, and if it comes to it, Aurors escorting younger students to classes. The Ministry will provide twenty additional Aurors as early as Monday morning. And Quidditch, of course, must be cancelled until further notice. Perhaps until the end of the war,"

"You're going to cancel Quidditch?" James said, his voice rising. "You can't cancel Quidditch! It's my last year; I promised Gryffindor we'd win the cup,"

"Then you made a foolish and presumptuous assumption. Safety is far more important than any sport, both for you and for the students outside of the castle in unsafe conditions."

"Dumbledore," James sighed. "Speak some sense,"

"I agree with him," Dumbledore said, and both Lily and James turned to look in shock. "There is more, I'm afraid. It may come as a bit of an unpleasant surprise, but the war has come closer than you may think to the castle's walls. In the past three weeks, there has been a series of coordinated attacks against Muggleborns in Hogsmeade. While the first attack didn't claim any lives, the last two did. Fourteen innocent people have been killed, fighting against the swelling armies of Lord Voldemort."

"Fourteen?"

"Yes, and until it can be secured, the village itself, as innocuous as it may seem, is out of bounds. Aurors are patrolling the borders and reinforcing the spells protecting it from outsiders. Students are to be confined to the castle until Voldemort's whereabouts can be discovered."

"Do you expect him to be here? This close to Hogwarts?" asked James.

"Him, being Lord Voldemort?" Mr. Crouch said.

"Yeah, or any of the Death Eaters?"

"No, but I expect there are students involved in the Dark Arts, as there always has been. People with inclinations—familial or ideologically—towards Lord Voldemort's cause." Mr. Crouch said. "They must be discovered, stamped out and eliminated, and until that is the case, I suggest the steps as mentioned earlier be taken to ensure safety for the innocent. As Head Boy and Girl, there is not much you or any of us can do alone against a force such as the Death Eaters. But steps can and must be taken in the meantime, and I expect them to remain enforced."

Mr. Crouch stood, and Dumbledore did as well. "With the panic of the masses continuing to rise, Dementors have been seen with increasing frequency. Perhaps an instructional session on the Patronus charm for the older students would be prudent."

"Of course," Dumbledore said graciously, and bowed at the waist, as Mr. Crouch left his office.

"He is to stay for a fortnight to ensure our fortifications. Not in suspicion of a full-frontal attack, but in preparation for any circumstance." Dumbledore turned to face the pair, a look of deep trust on his face. "This is to remain secret, and I entrust you with this knowledge knowing that it will influence your decision making. The announcement about Quidditch cancellation as well as the cessation of Hogsmeade weekends will be posted on Monday morning unless you have any reservations."

James sighed, looking down at his hands. "No, of course not,"

"Miss Evans?"

"If it's in everyone's best interest," Lily began. "And will protect those who cannot protect themselves, then, of course. I trust your word, Dumbledore,"

"I'm glad to hear of it," Dumbledore said, and smiled rather sadly as they left his office.

...

"Are you okay?" Lily asked after they left Dumbledore's office.

"Barty Crouch's reputation precedes him," James explained, hands jammed firmly into the pockets of his cardigan. "My father's told me stories about his stances against magical creatures, he's an unfeeling and un-remorseful man, he'd send his own son to Azkaban in the name of justice."

"Isn't he a student here?"

"His son? I believe so, second or third year. Quiet bloke."

"What did you think?" Lily said. "About what was said?"

James turned and faced her, his face tight. "I didn't know it was as bad as it is,"

"Well, no one did. It was intentional attacks against Muggleborns, no one's heard anything to that level of brutality, not yet anyway,"

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," James said, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. "I wish you hadn't,"

"They're in a better place than here, whoever they were," Lily said sadly.

"It brings something else to light; however," James said hesitantly. "About Muggleborns about you,"

"And what's that?"

"That you could be in danger," James said. "More danger than others for something that you can't control, and there's nothing I can do about it,"

"We can help the Aurors, equip the Prefects," Lily said, and then paused, taking his hand. "You'll help no one by making yourself into a martyr, James,"

"I said nothing of that sort,"

"No, but you were thinking it," Lily said. "And now more than ever, we need to stay united. One front, one voice, okay?"

"Okay,"

...

The walk back to their dormitory was solemn, and the few students they passed in the corridors steered well clear. The clear skies of a few hours ago had passed over, exchanged for dark steely clouds, and rain had begun to fall, hitting the high windows of the Charms corridor. What Dumbledore and Mr. Crouch had said swam in her head, all those innocent people who had been killed, and for what? To make a point? To eliminate an enemy? They had most likely never even met, murderer and victim, and one is dead, and the other remained at large likely to kill again. It made her sick, the thought of dying, being killed in the street. Where was the justice in that? What was the Ministry doing to stop the Death Eaters?

"After you," James said gently, and Lily walked through the door to their dormitory, feeling numb.

She walked past the little Common Room, the mess of last night cleaned away, and a cheerful fire was crackling in the grate.

"Can I get you anything?" James said after a moment.

"No," Lily said, making to sit on an armchair before changing her mind.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I need to collect my thoughts,"

"I'll be here," James said, rubbing her arms in a way he hoped was consoling. "Right here, if you need me,"

"Thank you," Lily said. "But I need to be alone."

...

The afternoon passed slowly, almost agonizingly so, with the remainder of the Gryffindor seventh years sitting in the Common Room chiselling through the mountains of homework they had been assigned over the last week. By the time dinner rolled around, Sirius took off with Lupin and Peter to the Great Hall, but James and Lily were nowhere to be found. He hoped that whatever it was that Ministry bloke had said was positive, but he doubted it. When he asked, Marlene and Alice hadn't seen them since breakfast either.

The return to Gryffindor tower was a gloomy one. The weather hadn't improved, the dense fog and pouring rain instilled a chill around the castle that the fire didn't seem to cut through. Even with James' dad's jumper and three pairs of socks, the cold was steady and getting colder. Sirius, along with the majority of his mates, pulled their textbooks out and resumed what had begun before dinner. But he couldn't help but worry; it wasn't like James not to tell him what was on his mind. Even now that Evans was in the picture, it was uncharacteristic.

"I wonder how they're doing," Sirius said, his back on the ground, legs leaning up against Remus' armchair.

"...Who?" Remus replied, nose buried in his Herbology textbook hurriedly scribbling on a bit of parchment.

"Prongs!"

Remus chuckled, rubbing Sirius' head absentmindedly. "He's a big boy, Sirius. I'm sure he's doing just fine."

Sirius glanced down at his watch. It was Mrs. Potter's brothers, perfectly kept except for a long scratch up the back. Mr. Potter had offered to get it repaired, but Sirius sort of liked it, it added a touch of character. "It's late; I told him I'd check up on him today."

Remus rolled his head back to look over at him. "You realize that they're most likely shagging,"

"I bet they're rowing," Alice said from the sofa, braiding Marlene's hair. "But then again, a good row always leads to a thorough shag. You think they've done it already?"

"Gross, Als," Marlene said, scrunching up her nose. "Have you made any advancements in that particular area I don't know about?"

"I thought you were seeing Longbottom," Remus said.

"Shh!" Alice said, "Keep your voice down. He's still with that fourth year, Robin somebody,"

"As if you don't know everything there is to know about her,"

"I don't know everything, Sirius,"

"Could've fooled me," he said, before pausing and looking around the Common Room. "Have you seen Mary?"

"No I haven't, actually," Alice said with a different tone. "Amelia neither. Not for, not for hours,"

"Do you think something's wrong?" Remus said, closing his textbook to catch Alice's eye. "It's not like Amelia to be out late,"

"She's not one for breaking the rules either," Marlene said, looking down at her watch. "it's half eleven, curfew was three hours ago, good God,"

"She's too smart for anything to happen," Sirius said absentmindedly. "You lot worry too much."

...

Amelia Bones made her way down the Charms corridor, her book bag swinging gently behind her. It was late, late enough for the corridors to be mercifully empty. She looked over her shoulder before pulling her wand out of the pocket of her robes and casting a non-verbal location spell. Her wand hovered, before pointing to a spot just behind her. She swung around quickly, and her eyes widened in surprise before everything went dark.