Bring James and Eat Cake

or

The Most Unhelpful Help

Mornings in Essex weren't as kind as mornings at Hogwarts.

When at home Lily was a morning person, albeit a reasonable one. Not like her mother, who believed that all of creation should be up with the sun, and preferably before it, to welcome the bally thing in. At Hogwarts, classes loomed blackly on the horizon of a morning, but at least one had five other sympathetic dormitory buddies with whom to test how long a person can sleep in without arriving at Potions with wet hair. Patricia Evans, however, had never ever slept past 8 o'clock in her life, and probably never would.

' —I've got a beautiful fee-eeling that everything's going my —Petunia! Your toast's burning!'

Cracking an eye open, Lily rolled onto her back. The roof of her bedroom was the same pale yellow as ever. In fact, everything was the same: the Elton John poster, the Blondie poster, the Michael Jackson poster, the Cinderella snow globe and the TARDIS money box sitting on her under utilised desk. Everything is the same. Except… Staring up at the light fixture, filled with the carcasses of many an unlucky moth, she couldn't help the bittersweet chortle of irony. Except that absolutely everything has changed.

After stretching her arms and ascertaining that it was suitably past eight o'clock, she wrapped herself in her purple dressing gown —still specked with the occasional gold sequin —and lumbered down the hallway of her home.

Home.

She yawned, listening to her mother start on 'Good Morning Good Morning'. It was a typical day in the Evans household, but for Lily… it was odd. It was always odd coming home. Ever since the fateful arrival of a heavy parchment letter six years ago, the Evans family had existed in a universe outside of Lily's. She was… she was other. Foreign. And not to mention that coming home was like reentering an Amish community: the Muggle world was just so incredibly limiting. She straightened a picture frame in the hallway, gazing blearily into the face of the Girl With the Pearl Earring. Only half a year 'til seventeen, though, she crowed mentally, giving a lazy fist pump in the middle of the hall.

'Lilianus? Is that you, pumpkin juice?'

Patricia Evans had always thought it hilarious that wizards preferred to liquefy their pumpkins rather than their apples. In the holidays before her third year, Lily had tried to make the delicious drink herself and had regretted the venture after the first god-awful sip. Now, four years later, her thoroughly apple-juice Muggle mother stuck her head around the kitchen door, eyes lighting up at the sight of her youngest daughter. 'Sweetie! It's so good to see you!'

'I've been home over two weeks, Mum,' Lily spoke through a yawn, grinning.

'Two weeks does not make up for the long school year that you're absent,' came the severe reply. There was no doubt in Lily's mind that she had not gotten her penchant for dramatics from her father. Smiling sleepily at her mother's griping, she trudged into the kitchen and sat. 'Where's Tuney?'

'You just missed her —she was in a rush. I had to hurl her toast after her down the drive.' Patricia slid a plate of scrambled eggs and other fried things in front of Lily, who yelped with excitement and immediately shovelled in a huge mouthful. 'You're better than any house elf, Mum,' she mumbled through mushrooms and tomatoes.

'That does sound a bit more exciting than housewife,' Patricia considered, nodding her head. 'I think I'll take it. By the way, you've had airmail.' She chortled at the joke. 'Just arrived ten minutes ago.'

All sleepiness forgotten, Lily shot out of her chair as if from a catapult, cutlery clattering to the table. 'Where?'

Watching her daughter's face with an undisguised mix of amusement and curiosity, Patricia passed a few parchment envelopes across the table. Heat rushed to Lily's face under her mother's gaze and she tried to look put-together as she excused herself from the table. 'Won't be a moment, mother dearest. And don't try to read over my shoulder.'

'You'll tell me about him soon, won't you, Lily? Or I'll have to —'

The back door slammed after Lily, drowning out her mother's threat. Her fingers were already scrabbling at the seal on the first envelope, addressed in very familiar bright pink ink.

Lily,

Sorry for the tardiness. Sirius set my entire desk on fire, and your last letter went up in flames along with a manuscript for what I know would've been a classic novel. Everyone dies in the end and the lovers are forever parted. That's pretty much a classic, right? It was pretty short, but quality above quantity and brevity is the soul of something or other and all of that rot, so I'm heartbroken either way. I could have been disgustingly rich and famous. Sirius tried to bake me an apology cake, but I think he actually used cement instead of flour.

This wasn't in your letter, but we didn't get to speak about your sister. I've still got that invitation you gave me, and I didn't get to say it before, but I think it's just fantastic! Really, really fantastic. It's a step for you two. Even if it means she's marrying a whale and you'll have really blubbery mer-babies for nieces and nephews. Hopefully they'll be less nasty than the ones in the lake. Those would be no picnic to babysit on anniversaries and whatnot. Anyway, congrats.

To be honest, I've forgotten most of what your last letter said, except for the last line, of course. You know how uninventive it is to sign off every single letter with 'Will you go out with me'? How is a lad supposed to pay attention to the charming details of your summer hols when you end it like that?

In all seriousness, though, it's still a no, Lily. Why, you ask? Well, did you hear about the thing with my ex-girlfriend and the nifflers? And how she dumped me as I stood vigil by her sickbed because she thinks I still fancy you? That sums 'why' up pretty neatly right about now. I'm still angry with you and confused about you and that combination of negative emotions does not a healthy relationship make.

Sirius sends his love. He says never eat anything bigger than your head. I say never eat anything Sirius bakes you, although you're smart enough to figure that one out yourself.

James

P.S. No, you can't call me Jim.

Smiling, Lily fondly examined the spiky, widely spaced handwriting for a few moments, then tucked the missive back into its envelope. It was the third one she had received from him in two weeks. It was the same as the others had been: casual, reserved and definitive, and it was the third —fourth including the 'no' she had received in the stairwell the night of the party —rejection of her proposal, but she still smiled. It's probably illogical to be happy, she thought absently, sliding a nail under the lip of the next envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest, and yet I can't help but feel —

Ping.

Something had fallen out of the envelope. Lily looked down curiously. Nestled in a crack between the paving stones was a small rectangle of shiny metal.

Oh dear.

One sock-clad toe crept from beneath the dressing gown and nudged the thing. A badge. It was obnoxiously shiny; the sun skittered off it blindingly. The writing spreading across its surface, all curlicue and flourish and bright, Gryffindor red, would proclaim its wearer to be Head Girl.

Lily stared at the thing for a good twenty seconds. Then she checked the letter to make sure it actually said her name. Then, sitting there in the morning summer sun in her backyard, a letter from James Potter in one hand and a badge in the other, Hogwarts' next Head Girl laughed aloud.

'Mum, wait'll you see this.'

'Lily!'

Petunia's voice rang shrilly down the stairs. The undercurrent of panic in it was even more pronounced than the last time she had called Lily up, approximately four minutes ago. 'I need you to zip me up. Quickly! Vernon and his parents will be here any moment.'

Groaning, Lily viciously skewered a prosciutto-wrapped date with a toothpick and began the ascent for what felt like the millionth time in the last hour alone. 'Tuney, you've got to get one of zipper hook things —' She broke off at the sight of her sister. 'Wow.'

A very harried Petunia was struggling with the zipper of a pastel yellow dress. It softened the sharp-looking blonde somehow. Her pale hair curled to just below her ears and she looked lovely. Honestly lovely. Lily, a curious lump in her throat, told her sister so.

Petunia took a few seconds out from being stressed to hang her head and blush demurely. When the zipper was in place and she had stepped into her shoes, she asked, 'When's your friend coming? The Mar-something girl.'

'Marlene,' Lily supplied, brushing a few loose hairs off her sister's shoulders, 'will be here about twenty minutes before it starts. So in about ten minutes.'

'Good.' Petunia sucked in a breath. 'She had better be on time, because the marquee has only just arrived, blasted company, and you need two people to set it up. It'll take at least–'

'In all of the years I've known Marlene she hasn't been late to a single thing,' Lily patiently assured her. 'And she certainly won't be late to Petunia Evans' engagement party. I would kill her because you would kill me.'

'I would kill you,' Petunia agreed firmly, staring critically into the mirror on her bureau and pinching her pale cheeks. 'Because that marquee —'

' —will be put up. Stop stressing and try to enjoy yourself.'

Simultaneously, the doorbell rang and Fergelina, James's owl, landed on the windowsill of Petunia's bedroom.

'What —?' Petunia hissed in renewed panic, flapping her hands at the owl, which only looked haughty. 'Lily, no!' She whirled on her sister. 'I haven't told Vernon about your —about you yet, let alone his parents and they're here now! Get rid of it!'

Startled, Lily ducked under her sister's frantic arms and coaxed Fergelina onto her forearm. Already detaching the note affixed to the bird's leg, she was halfway out the door when the blonde called her again.

'Lily. Please.' Petunia looked really distressed. 'I don't want him to know.' Lily's hurt must have shown on her face, so her sister amended: 'Not yet. This is my night. It has to be perfect.'

Ten minutes later, Marlene, who had been let in by Harold Evans —hiding from his ex-wife in a closet by the front door —found Lily bent over a letter in her bedroom.

'Wotto, Head Girl,' the witch said, flamboyantly divesting herself of her jacket. 'This is going to be a stiff evening, and I'll tell you that for free. Where can I– hey.' She stopped short, frowning, eyes narrowing on her friend. 'What's happened?'

Sitting on the end of her bed, still clad in apron and Petunia-sanctioned hairnet, Lily was frozen with shock and panic, staring at James's note.

'This is the end, Mar,' she mumbled. 'This is my last night on earth. Petunia's actually going to bury me.'

'I'll decide that —' Marlene said in a bolstering fashion, plucking the note from Lily's locked fingers. Her eyes scanned the few hastily scrawled lines.

Code red, Evans. Run for cover.

Told Sirius about your sister a few weeks ago and he took a hearty dislike to the idea of her. Idiot just found the invitation you copied for me and has decided he should make an appearance. Floo'd out before I could stop him. I'm coming now. Guard all entrances.

James

Upon finishing reading, Marlene took a deep breath. 'Alright. I see what you mean. This has potential to be the end —' Lily moaned ' —but it most certainly will not be.'

What followed next was proof to Lily that everyone needs a Marlene in their life. The witch shoved Lily into her party dress, pulled her hair this way and that until it was satisfactory, set her to filling pastry cases with mango and passionfruit curd and then went to warn Harold that the world would probably end if a certain black-haired wizard with potent charisma was allowed through the front gate. Following this conversation Evans Senior, armed with an umbrella and crooked polka dot cravat tied firmly beneath his chin, was set as unlikely door sentry.

With fifteen minutes to spare and Petunia screaming in their ears, Marlene frog marched Lily into the backyard where they set up the marquee in a record-breaking four point five minutes. Moments later, the first over-eager guests began trickling in. Feeling a little bit more under control, the witches returned inside to carry around flutes of champagne and canapés to the early-comers.

This feeling of stability didn't last very long.

'Lilianus?'

Harold had wandered into the kitchen, sidestepping a few errant relatives with a bemused look on his face... and Mary MacDonald was marching behind him, looking like she was going to war. Such was Lily's shock that her eyes must have popped a few inches clear of their sockets.

'I've got to talk to you, Lily,' Mary said quaveringly, obviously trying to cover up her nervousness with determination. She trooped around Vernon's large cousin Belinda and when she reached Lily's side, the redhead almost expected her to salute.

'Mary,' Lily said weakly, feeling Petunia's eyes on her from across the room. 'Now is not a good time.'

'Yes,' Mary said very firmly. 'I can see that.' She took a deep breath. 'But I'm going to lose my nerve if I don't say it now. And it's probably good that there's a crowd. Stops you from killing me.'

'Why would I do that?' Lily asked, ushering Mary over to the bench, out of Petunia's sight.

The brunette looked surprised. 'Well —'

'The niffler thing,' Marlene supplied, coming past with a case of champagne.

'Oh, right.' Lily stilled in her canapé plating. 'That.'

Luckily Mary had given her a few weeks space to cool down after the party. She had been angry; very angry, and it was only in the panic of throwing Petunia's perfect engagement party that Lily had forgotten for a few moments how angry she had been. She exhaled sharply. 'That was the most unhelpful help you've ever given me, Mary.'

The other girl nodded. 'I know,' she said in a very small voice. 'I just wanted something to go right.' She fumbled with a devilled egg and Lily instantly felt sorry for her.

'Lily?'

Petunia had come up behind them. Her eyes were nervously flicking from Lily's to Mary's face. 'I thought you were only having one friend over. Everything's okay, isn't it?'

Hastily arranging her face into a look of cool assurance, Lily said lightly, 'Of course! Mary's come to help out —there's a lot more to do than we thought.'

Petunia looked uncertainly at Mary's jeans and jumper, but nodded. 'Alright. Just be careful with the glass crockery. It's nothing special now, but it's going to be my antiques set in about thirty years.'

The three witches proved to be an excellent serving team. When Vernon's mother, Bertha, his blubbery sister and a few of the larger Dursley cousins had taken over the couch in the living room with several large plates of hors d'oeuvre —if there wasn't enough food to go around it was Petunia's fault for marrying into a family of behemoths —Lily began thinking it was a marvelous thing that Mary had shown up when she did. By the time Hogwarts' chief party planner had worked entirely Muggle magic with canned fish, cream cheese, chives and crackers found in the pantry, she was thoroughly forgiven. But once again, the younger Evans' sister's feeling of calm was short-lived.

Because next came Remus.

Poor Harold looked baffled as he broke watch for the second time and walked into the kitchen, a boy who was most certainly no acquaintance of Petunia's behind him. 'He doesn't have black hair, so I let him in.' The gatekeeper didn't sound entirely sure about it, though, and Lily cursed Remus, the true master of smooth talking. The boy was possibly even more dangerous than Sirius, because his charm was subtle instead of flamboyant and often you didn't even realise that it was happening until it had happened.

After reassuring Harold that this was indeed the plan —'the more servers the merrier Petunia is, right?' Wrong. We are all going to die —the witches ushered Remus into the hallway. All three stared at him so threateningly that Lily thought he might cry for a few seconds.

'James called for backup,' the wizard explained, bolstering, squaring his shoulders and trying to look fierce. He, at least, had taken the time to put on some nice dress slacks and a button down shirt, but the wizard still looked incredibly out of place in the Evans' small hallway. 'I'm here to take Sirius down. I'm quick, effective, on the ball. Minimal damage —'

The door was still open and across the room Petunia was staring at Lily again, eyes wide. The two vapid blondes she was supposed to be talking to chatted on without noticing their hostess's panic. Beaming manically at her sister and giving her two thumbs up, Lily snatched a spare apron off the countertop and, ducking into the hallway, attached it to a bemused Remus Lupin. As she passed with a plate of dip and crackers later on, Petunia snatched at her shoulder. 'This is my party,' the blonde Evans muttered fiercely. 'I don't know what's happening, but your friends had better not mess it up for Vernon and I.'

'I know, I know,' Lily said soothingly, depositing a hummus-laden crisp into her sister's buttercup yellow claws. 'But it's fine —Remus is a hit with the great aunts and grandmothers and Mary just made the night's best canapé from some stale crackers and what might possibly have once been cat food. They're assets to your friendly unpaid serving team.'

And it was true: if it weren't for the fact that the Marauder's appearance was the third terrifying interruption of the night, Lily might have relaxed again after that. Remus really was a fantastic waiter; he could turn on the charm in a way that was quite frightening to Lily, and Mary gave muscle to any party if she didn't have magical creatures and a target to launch them at. After two hours of smooth sailing it was decided that James must have succeeded in waylaying Sirius. Everything was going to plan. Assured of this, Petunia was in her element and Vernon was wallowing around like an exultant, pompous whale that has just found a lifetime supply of plankton and is congratulating itself on the discovery.

Kept well supplied with ginger beer and mini-quiches, and out of the clutches of his high-maintenance ex-wife and daughters, Harold was quite enjoying guard duty. Never had Lily been more grateful of her father's distinct distaste for parties. But this quality, as much as it was a blessing, was also where they hit a snag: Harold Evans, much like his youngest daughter, wasn't one for confrontations.

'Lily. Lily.'

Pausing in pulling a tray of Welsh rarebit from the grill, Lily turned toward the hissing. 'Dad? These have got to go out —'

'Right. Yes.' Harold was standing in the doorway looking distinctly uncomfortable, glancing around for Petunia. 'But the chap with the black hair —actually there are two of them —well, yes, there are two black haired chaps at the door, and I —' He cleared his throat nervously, 'what do you want me to do with them?'

Lily froze. 'You left them there. By the front door.'

'Yes, well…' Harold frowned. 'I asked them if they wouldn't mind waiting and they were very polite about the whole thing —'

But it was too late; Sirius was coming up the hallway. Following him was James, looking severely put out. Suddenly all thought fled and Lily's brain was frozen in a hysterical loop of sweet baby Jesus. This is very bad.

'Lil!'

James, standing a few inches taller than Sirius and Harold, was looking over both their heads at her. His eyes, particularly gold in amongst all the black of hair and clothing took her in —apron, oven mitts, purple dress and the lovely heeled gold shoes she'd found with Emmeline and Alice at the flea market last Thursday. Despite the grim nature of the situation and the fact that he was very obviously furious at Sirius, a grin quirked his lips. 'Where's the dressing gown?' he mouthed. She blushed, grinning, and shook her head at him with narrowed eyes.

Wistfulness bit at her, seeing him in the hallway of her home. Disregarding the apron, she was wearing a pretty dress, and James looked fantastic in his black pants and collared shirt —even when crashing a party one should adhere to the dress code —and she could almost imagine that he had a broomstick propped up on the porch, his invisibility cloak tucked into a pocket and a reservation for two at a nice Italian restaurant…

...and then she saw her father frowning up at him – Harold Evans didn't trust his daughters with men who were taller than him —and the only thing she could think was he's meeting the parents. Gosh, it seems a bit early.

'Sorry we're late,' Sirius was saying rather regretfully. 'There was an incident with… well, fire, and the invitation got a bit singed. We couldn't tell whether it said Sussex or Essex. The usually dim lad behind me,' he gestured to James who, suddenly remembering he was angry at Sirius, glowered, 'thought it was Essex and I thought it was Sussex, and going on my general tendency towards being right about everything —'

'No, going on your general tendency towards violence,' James interjected angrily.

'Well,' Sirius continued cheerfully, 'Either way —we just spent the last hour jaunting around Sussex, looking for your spot and of course finding nothing —'

Luckily Marlene had run out of Welsh rarebit and at that moment came circling back into the kitchen with an empty tray. At the sight of the two lads plus Lily's father in the hallway she stopped short. The tray was deposited with a sharp snap onto the bench top.

'How did you two get inside?'

Harold looked sheepish.

Remus was following closely behind Marlene. The squared shoulders were back and his eyebrows looked like two blond caterpillars mating on the bridge of his nose. Before Marlene could say anything else he stepped in front of her and railed his friends with so disapproving a frown that Lily —and everyone within a ten-mile radius —began to feel guilty. 'If you care at all about Lily you'll leave this party right now,' he said, voice quiet and very firm. Sirius looked genuinely surprised.

And then before anyone could say anything else and before Fraulein Remus could boot out the newcomers, Mary and Lily's mum were on the little party hovering around the hallway. 'Roll up, roll up,' Patricia announced, swatting the gatecrashers out into the living room. 'Dessert and light entertainment is in the marquee.' She and Mary began ushering the group enthusiastically into the back garden and Sirius and James got caught up in the shuffling maelstrom.

'These two were just leaving, actually, Mrs Evans —Patricia, sorry,' Remus said smoothly, stepping in front of his mates. We forgot to tell mum about Sirius, Lily realised with horror. She's going to make them stay.

'Nonsense,' Patricia scoffed. 'It's a celebration and they're obviously your friends, so they can come and have a bit of cake.'

'Mum,' Lily mumbled, discomfited. 'I really think they had better —'

'Don't you start, Lily Marga —' Patricia suddenly stopped the shepherding. She was inspecting James and Sirius with keen interest. 'But you can introduce your mother to your friends.'

Sirius, probably worried that Lily's introduction wouldn't do him justice, quickly named both himself and his mate. 'Sirius Black, scoundrel and rogue,' he intoned with a grin, 'and James Potter, bed wetter.'

Despite the magnificence of Sirius's introduction and the hand kiss that accompanied it, Lily's mother's eyes lingered on the taller wizard. She knew the name of the boy who was writing her daughter letters that put a skip in her step, but nothing else. 'James,' Patricia repeated, cocking her head to the side slightly.

'Muhhhm,' Lily groaned, accepting that if Patricia wanted the Marauders to stay, they were staying. She quickly decided that her next priority was escaping the crippling embarrassment her mother was sure to bring upon everyone present. 'Let's go outside, please. Dessert… light entertainment…' She feebly ushered a grinning Patricia and a blushing Marauder outside. Before she could say anything to James —apologise… ask him out… kiss him —Remus had both intruders by the collar and was pulling them into a corner of the garden for a stern talking-to.

In the fifteen minutes allocated to them for assembling the outdoor space, Lily and Marlene had done a wonderful job. The marquee looked lovely at nighttime, all lit up and thronging with the engaged couple's friends and family. A certain sister-in-law couldn't enjoy it, though: she was just waiting for the bride to notice that another two unnatural magic folk had joined the party and kick up a royal fuss. So she hovered behind the dessert table, handing out champagne and paper napkins and eating a ratio of two cakes to each one that she served.

'Ave, Evans.'

She jumped. A grinning Sirius had come up behind her, a plate overladen with cake in his hand. Lily glowered at him and he took a step back. 'Whew, such venom! It's a party. Relax. Wait —' he frowned ' —do you know how to do that?'

Resisting the urge to grind the heel of her lovely gold shoes into his toes, Lily picked up the pepper grinder and thoroughly seasoned his blancmange.

'Evans,' the intruder commented good-naturedly, allowing her the blancmange but pulling his plate away before she could start on the black forest cake. 'Have a think. What would I have to gain from busting up your sister's engagement party, hmm? Other than seeing her fiancé go like this —' He blew his cheeks out like an angry puffer fish.

'I don't know.' Lily wasn't in the mood to give anybody the benefit of the doubt. 'That sounds like a good enough reason for you.' She shoved an entire mango and passionfruit curd into her mouth, chewed twice and swallowed.

Ignoring the stab, Sirius said breezily, 'what I'm doing right now is exactly what I planned to do.' He waved a spoonful of trifle expressively through the air. 'Bring James and eat cake.'

As Lily's eyes were at the highest point of an exasperated eye roll, pointed at the ceiling canvas of the marquee, she stopped. 'Bring James?'

Having shoved in the mouthful of trifle, Sirius grinned through custard and cream. 'Yep.'

'What do you mean?' Her eyes crept across the marquee to where she knew James was standing, talking politely to Vernon's best mate and best man, Phillip. Comparative to Vernon, Phillip was a genuinely nice man, if a little dull and in possession of an unusually slow blink. So slow was this blink in fact that every time his eyes closed James would do a star jump. During a particularly lengthy one he managed three.

Sirius wasn't watching, though. He'd returned his attention to the dessert table. 'James's been moping around the house for the last two weeks,' he explained, scraping his peppered blancmange into the bin and helping himself to a healthy scoop of chocolate pudding. 'I knew that if I came to cause havoc at this here wake —sorry, engagement party —Prongs'd be up like a shot to save you. And that's all he's wanted to do for the last two weeks. See you, I mean, not necessarily save you.' The Marauder looked mightily pleased with himself. Then he turned an accusatory stare on Lily. 'Why is he moping, exactly, and not pressed against your heaving bosom?'

Self-consciously she crossed her arms over her chest. 'A few noble reasons,' she supposed glumly. 'In no particular order: Daisy, nifflers, Daisy, Lily Evans is a sodding cow and Daisy.' Then, glaring, she turned to look Sirius full in the face. 'Did you really only come to bring James and eat cake? Don't lie to me.'

A sheepish grin crept onto his face. 'Well,' he admitted, 'the original plan did involve a few stinkbombs —' Looking closely, Lily could see the slight bulges in his jacket pocket and she gave a roar of outrage ' —but that was all!' Sirius hastily assured her. 'And Moony has talked me out of it quite exhaustively.'

'Talked you out of it? Huh. Threatened, more like,' the redhead muttered, slapping a spoonful of trifle onto the proffered plate of a startled uncle-in-law. 'He'd put you in detention for the rest of your life.'

Having picked up a napkin, Sirius was attempting to fold a chatterbox, but he paused at Lily's last comment and looked at her strangely. 'What do you mean?'

Surprised, Lily fumbled for words. 'Well… I assumed… I thought he'd…' She trailed off.

'Head boy. You thought he'd be Head Boy.' The eyes of the person least likely to become Head Boy floated down to Lily's collar, to where she would next year pin her badge. 'Congratulations, by the way. The square won it, far and square.' Grinning widely, he gave her a hearty slap on the back. 'But, no,' he regrouped, shaking his head solidly, 'Squeamus Remus will not have the power to incarcerate me in detention next year. The happy privilege falls to some other poor blighter.'

'Well,' Lily said heavily after a pause, pushing the remaining curds into a nice pattern on Petunia's semi-antique silverware, 'that has me staggered. I don't think I really thought there was a possibility he wouldn't get it.'

'I'm sure you'll have lovely bureaucratic fun with whoever got it.' There was something in Sirius's eyes now that Lily didn't like —something delighted and mischievous that didn't bode well for anyone it was directed at. 'Now, are you going to come with me and start a dance floor? That band's making an awful cake of the music. The cakes over here are much better.'

A soft-jazz band formed by Petunia's high-school friends had trooped onto the platform at the other end of the marquee and one of the vapid blondes was swaying in a very awkward fashion in front of the microphone as she butchered a soul classic. Genuinely regretful, Lily shook her head. 'I'm on desserts. But I'll come and watch you try to start up a dance floor with Petunia's stiff friends if you can find me a relief.'

A grin was growing on Sirius's face. 'You know what?' He did a drum roll on the trestle table with his pointer fingers. 'You've gotten me all curious about this responsibility lark. You go and dance —or snog James, I'm not fussy —and I'll hand out the cake.'

At the precise moment that Lily looked uncertainly over to where the other Marauder was standing, now with both Vernon and Phillip, James looked over as well. Vernon was frowning at the younger man —but that was his usual face, so Lily wasn't particularly worried —and James was flat out ignoring him, staring across the marquee at Lily.

'Alright,' she heard herself say to Sirius. 'Alright, but no funny business.' She dropped the trifle spoon and emerged from behind the table. 'And watch out for my uncle Benjamin: he's a very persuasive diabetic in denial.'

On her way to James she passed Petunia, positively glowing in the middle of a cloud of happiness and pale yellow chiffon. The girl grabbed Lily's hand and squeezed, breathing, 'thank you so, so much. I am so glad that you're here,' into her sister's ear. When the two parted, Petunia to find her mother and Lily to find James, both were smiling an identical smile so wide that a few friends and relatives were heard to say 'yes, one can see the resemblance after all.'

'Hello Vernon, Phillip,' Lily said sunnily as she approached the group of men, inclining her head in greeting. 'James.'

Vernon was staring at her like she had a large and unfortunate facial tattoo. He had never liked her particularly, but neither had he ever looked at her like this. Before she could ask the man what was wrong, Phillip had taken her hand in both of his.

'Lilianus,' he intoned solemnly, bowing his head and blinking very slowly.

'Oh, Phillip,' Lily cleared her throat awkwardly. 'It's just Lily, actually. That one —the other one is a very unfortunate nickname.' Next to her, James was going red in his efforts to keep from laughing. 'Anyhow,' she was blushing now, too, 'do you mind if I steal James for a wee bit?'

Vernon harrumphed like a belligerent horse, still staring at her with that awful mixture of abhorrence and disbelief and Phillip blinked again. 'Thank you,' Lily said sweetly, shooting her future brother-in-law a quick glare that she was sure she would pay for when it had been reported to Petunia later on. Exit-bound, she turned to ensure James was following her. He was; eyes fixed on her, face unreadable. No, not unreadable; he looked resigned, which wasn't good. He thinks I'm going to try something. Up come the defences —as she watched, the humour left him and his face became fatalistic —oh yes, right on time. They passed by Sirius on the way out. Lily had been worried that she might have slightly oversold the 'responsibility lark' to him over the years, but he was clearly having a great time, asking everyone —flower girls included —if they were Uncle Benjamin before he served them.

Outside of the marquee it was much cooler and quieter. The sky was a bright navy-grey with cloud cover. Lily led James across the darkened garden to one of the fake-Grecian stone benches Petunia had requested particularly for the party, set cosily under the big fir tree. 'Have a seat,' she said with a large arm flourish and a bow. 'You can have your pick of either the left side of this authentic Greek bench made in Japan or the right side.'

Taking the right side after protracted mock deliberation, James scooted to the very edge, ensuring that there was at least half a metre's space between them. When the laughter had abided, which was quite quickly due to the tension settling over them like a heavy quilt, they sat in silence, staring straight ahead at the glowing marquee.

Lily could feel his presence like she was sitting next to one of those portable heaters they'd just left behind in the tent. All she could remember was the heat of him from the last time it'd had been only them and a party. Her fingers were cold; she should have liked to reach out and warm them in his jacket… But she wouldn't. Nervousness stiffened her limbs.

She cleared her throat. 'How have you been?'

He cleared his throat. 'Good, thanks.'

It was entirely inappropriate, but his answer startled a laugh out of her. She felt him turn to pin her with a questioning stare. 'Well, that's a lie.' When she chanced a look at him out of the corner of her eye she saw with relief that he was grinning ruefully.

'We're not very good at little talk, are we?'

'Small talk,' she corrected, grinning as well now. 'I think you'll find that we'll be quite useless at any form of polite conversation.'

James frowned, breaking the humour quite suddenly. 'That's not true.'

When he didn't elaborate, the silence became awkward. When Lily breathed in, James exhaled, and their staggered breaths were little opalescent cloudbursts in the light that haloed the marquee up ahead. All the while Lily's head was throbbing with frustration.

You can end this —bloody hell, you can begin this.

But his next comment was, 'I saw your posters on the way in.' It was obviously said just for something to say. 'Your door was open. Do you really like —'

'Come on!'

The frustration had spilled over and Lily turned on James. 'You're really going to ask whether I like Elton? Well, yes. Yes I do.' Startled amusement was registering on James's face. He regarded her solemnly with eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, which Lily knew to mean that a smile was coming, but she didn't give it time to properly develop. 'I'm trying to woo you, Potter, and you're making it very difficult.'

Sure enough, the smile was nipped in the bud.

'Lily-'

The ice surrounding the subject well and truly broken, she wheedled, 'Just one date. One trip to Hogsmeade.' Her voice was restrained but entreating. 'No Puddifoot's, no flowers and chocolates, no snogs in the shrubbery —unless you want to of course,' she hastily amended, just to keep the options open. 'Just two youngsters spending an afternoon together. We can even make it a practical shopping trip,' she said eagerly, 'buy some presents and new quills and such, to keep the datey-ness to a minimum, and you can leave whenever you like and there's no pressure for a- for a goodbye snog, or anything… like that…' She trailed off.

Why did I have to run out of ideas after the bit about snogging?

Suddenly mortified, Lily sat staring stiffly at the space above the wizard's left shoulder and wishing that she could dissolve into the chilly night air. But James, it seemed, was shivering. No, shaking. Chancing a glance at him, Lily saw with shock that he was laughing silently, eyes glittering behind half-closed lids.

'What…? Are you laughing at me?' A familiar defensiveness rose in her and she battled it down. 'What's so funny?'

'Yes,' he said, grinning.

'Yes, you're laughing at —'

Screams erupted from the marquee.

Both heads whipped around to see the small column of smoke rising from the centre of the tent into the dark sky. Petunia's party. A small vacuum of panic opened in Lily's stomach. It sucked into itself all of the excited irritation and adrenaline that had been gallivanting around inside her with the cake and canapés. There was only a moment's shocked pause before both of them were on their feet and running toward the smoke. Death Eaters, was Lily's first black thought. How —Petunia's party? What would they want —

Lily and James stopped short just a few yards from the entrance of the tent, noses wrinkling. The initial panicked screams had turned into pained groans. People were spilling out of the canvas flap, desperate to escape the foul smell that had filled the small area. One woman tottered in her kitten heels to the closest bush and vomited several mini-quiches into the hydrangeas.

Lily suddenly recognised the smoke plume of a stinkbomb detonation. Not Death Eaters, she thought, relieved. But Sirius is almost equally worth avoiding.

It took a fair amount of damage control but Patricia Evans was an artist with words and soon most of the guests were laughing off the incident as a droll, if disturbing, prank. By the time party resettled indoors – the hired marquee allowed to air out before its return tomorrow —it was close to eleven o'clock and people were starting to leave.

Uncle Benjamin, the diabetic in denial, was really quite the determined little bugger when it came to desserts. So long denied sugar by his wife, Lily's warlike Aunt Matilda, he had literally pushed Sirius over in a desperate attempt at the trifle; an action which had resulted in the detonation of the several stinkbombs in the Marauder's pocket. For that reason, Sirius —who literally smelt like an open sewer inhabited by unwashed quarrymen —was given partial absolution. Not by Petunia, however: the bride-to-be was hysterical with fury at both him and Lily. Lily had known it from the moment she had seen the smoke: whatever the outcome of this, she was to be to blame.

'Petty,' she tried later on when only a few guests remained, reaching for her sister as she passed, nursing a half-empty bottle of champagne. 'I had no idea —'

Wrenching her arm out of Lily's grip and sloshing champagne over the both of them in the process, Petunia hissed back, 'Oh really.' Her voice and expression were ice cold. 'You can't resist making everything about you.'

The catastrophe of a night didn't end with the stinkbomb at its lowest point. Not when the reason for Vernon's disgust was made apparent.

It was closing in on midnight and everyone had gone home including James, whom Lily hadn't been able to talk to in The Aftermath. Everyone, that is, bar Marlene, who was staying the night and the immediate Dursleys, who were pretending to help clean up. The future Mrs. Dursley was taking comfort in the large stack of presents on the hall table. In the kitchen actually doing work, Lily and Marlene could hear her rambling on in a manic sort of way.

'Thirty-six, Vernon! Although I'm pretty sure both of those —see there —I think they're both blenders, so that makes 28, but if we can ask for the —can we ask for the receipt? That's rude, isn't it? Well, it's a pity, but I suppose we can regift one —'

'Petunia.' Vernon's voice was stiff. The kitchen hands, both busily scrubbing at either end of a mammoth platter in the adjacent room, stilled at the note of anger in his tone. Tiptoeing to the doorway, Lily peeked around the frame, Marlene silently at her side. Petunia had her skinny shoulders drawn up in anxiety as she inspected the presents with faux-enthusiasm and her fiancé was standing stiffly by the front door watching her, one hand tapping the hallstand with agitation. 'Petunia.'

' Yes, dear?'

Vernon's face was purpling underneath his moustache, which Marlene had once mentioned looked rather like a dead guinea pig Sellotaped to his upper lip. 'Watch out,' the girl murmured to Lily now, 'Something's about to blow.'

And it did.

'When,' he all but spat, swallowing angrily, 'When were you going to tell me that your sister is a witch?'

It was at about a quarter to two on the morning of the 23rd of June 1976 that with a sense of numbing acceptance Lily realised her relationship with Petunia Evans probably wouldn't last the night.

James had told Vernon —of course he had. Why wouldn't he? One would have expected the fiancé to know at this point. Lily sure had. When asked where he went to school James had replied that he went where Petunia's sister attended.

'St Margot's All Girls Academy in Manchester?' Vernon had replied, bewildered.

'No,' James had said, frowning at the whale's lack of familial general knowledge, 'That was her primary school.' Of course he had known that; he was an expert in all things Lily Evans, but he didn't know that St Margot's was a primary and secondary school combined and Lily had been going to it for the last twelve years. At least as far as Vernon was concerned. 'We both go to Hogwarts.'

After having a good yell at Petunia —how could he trust her and her sister was unnatural, etcetera, etcetera —doing his absolute best to make her feel thoroughly worthless, Vernon took his family and quit the Evans house, leaving his fiancé a mess and their relationship an unknown variable.

It was all Lily's fault and there was nothing she could do about it. Thus, at one thirty in the morning, unable to console her sister in any way, she had gone up to bed. She left Petunia, stiff with shock, sitting on the bottom step of the staircase.

Marlene was a good person to have around at this kind of time; she tempered the bitter disbelief a little. None of it was Lily's doing, the brunette said briskly as she took off her practical shoes. She said it with such conviction that Lily was tempted to believe it herself. According to Marlene, Sirius was to blame for the first part and the second part was entirely on Petunia for not telling Vernon. Still, her fault or no, it arrived to Lily Evans at a quarter to two on the twenty third of June that Petunia would probably never forgive her. All thoughts of a proper sisterly relationship, or of a proper family at all, were smoking ashes.

'Lilianus?'

'Bloody hell, Mars,' she responded wearily, stepping into her pyjama pants and coming to the door of her room. 'Stop calling me that.'

'Anything for you, Lilliput, but I've just got a note —James is out front.' In the bathroom just a little down the hall, Marlene had her head stuck around the doorway, a toothbrush stuck in her mouth and a sympathetic look on her face.

'What?' Lily didn't really have the emotional energy to be surprised. 'Didn't he go home?'

'Sirius put his wand into a vase in the hallway so he's had to come fetch it.'

'Bother it all.' She turned and looked with fierce longing at her bed. 'Can't he get it himself?'

'Lilypond.'

'Right.'

By this time the night was unsalvageable, but sleep could've eased it a little. As it were, even sleep was denied Lily. Two minutes later, shrugged into a pullover and slippers, she slipped into the darkened hallway and rummaged in the vase on the hallstand, trying by feel to determine what was gardenia stalk and what was wand.

Outside on the porch, James was waiting. He turned when the front door opened. Still in his party gear, all black and white, he looked washed out in front of the cloudy sky and worn out in general. Smiling wanly at his expression, which she was sure was clear upon her own face, Lily passed him his dripping wand. 'Don't know where you usually stick it, but it's nice and clean now.'

'Thanks,' he said, pocketing it. His mouth opened again, but Lily said, 'Wait,' suddenly. 'How did Marlene know you were here? She was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth —'

Fumbling in his cloak, he held up a small, rectangular mirror. 'Two way mirror. Sirius planned this,' he said tiredly. 'Planted the wand, planted the mirror… He…' James exhaled in an annoyed fashion, 'he said that we still needed to talk.'

'What a meddler,' Lily said in wonder, taking the mirror and examining it. 'He's got his fingers in a lot of pies, I can tell you that.'

'I can tell you that you don't want to know how true that is.'

'Oh my goodness, that's foul —'

'Hey now, that was not a euphemism!' James laughed. 'Do you see that?' He pointed to the curb out the front of the house. 'Right there: that's your mind, down in the gutter.'

Genuinely relieved, Lily exhaled, watching a leaf nostalgic for winter tumbling gently through the dry curb on the gentle breeze. There was a beat of silence, then: 'I'm so sorry about your sister,' he mumbled, voice gruff with contrition. Lily peered at his face. He looked desperately sorry. 'Marlene just told me, just then, when I —when I rang —and I'm so… so sorry. I'm not… there's no-' Lost for words, he clamped his mouth shut and she understood with miserable completeness. How often had she been at the so-desperately-sorry-you-can't-even-say-it-anymore stage? Of recent times… probably biweekly.

'Look…' she began, searching for something to say that would make him feel better, 'It would have been a blow out no matter when she told him, but… the timing was unfortunate.' She thought of Petunia's small, white face and shivered. 'Especially- especially after S-Sirius let 'em rip-' Her throat closed over and she couldn't speak anymore either.

'Are you crying?'

James looked disconsolate. He had his whole body swivelled to face her; hands gripping her shoulders and turning her face up into the glow of the porch light so that he could see more clearly.

'Trying not to,' she muttered, rolling her eyes and swallowing thickly.

'I'm so mad at myself!' he seethed quite suddenly, face darkening. 'I should have known —Merlin, I should have guessed, knowing your relationship —'

It was terribly insensitive, but Lily couldn't help it: she began to laugh. Despite everything that had happened, and despite the fact that she wasn't sleeping at this very moment and she should have been, she laughed. She didn't even know why. Neither did James: he was staring at her in utter terror and confusion.

'I'm so sorry,' she rambled, grinning and crying all at the same time. 'This is just so… bizarre. Everything is so bizarre. I think I'm hysterical.'

'I agree, one hundred percent.' A little of the darkness had left James's face and a little amusement was creeping onto it. 'I feel unbelievably awful about the whole thing and now I feel even worse because it's obviously turned you into a lunatic.'

'Ah,' she cried, swatting at him with one hand and wiping away the few tears that had broken ranks with the other. 'This lunatic has the power to put you in detention for the rest of the year.'

'Hah,' James laughed, too, but very differently to Lily. It was a sound at once both sharp and uncomfortable. 'Good luck with that.' At her questioning look, he turned his face to the side. 'It seems… uh… it seems I'm above even your jurisdiction this year, Miss Prefect.'

About to reply, Lily suddenly frowned. Prefect? James had his turned face away from her… but he was blushing. Why would you be blushing? Then the funny look that had appeared on Sirius's face when they were talking about Remus earlier on resurfaced in her mind. Oh my goodness. That's… not possible. But, then, after everything that had happened that night, it was clear to Lily that to believe in the genuine possibility of the impossible was to save oneself a whole lot of bother. Sometimes —she thought of Alice's confusion, falling down a troublesomely placed rabbit hole —I believe in as many as six impossible things before three am…

'You're Head Boy.'

James was turning bright red. 'Yes,' he cleared his throat, 'It would seem so. I don't think anyone thought Dumbledore could so royally lose the plot, but —'

'You know that I'm Head Girl, right?'

If eyes could have fallen out, James's would've shot from his head like pinballs.

'Oh. Oh, Merlin.'

There was silence.

And then they began to laugh again.

It began as a disbelieving chuckle from James… and then Lily added a chortle of her own… and then they lost it. They laughed and laughed and laughed, until Lily realised that it was two o'clock on a Sunday morning and her mother had borrowed sugar from many a neighbour and probably wanted to maintain the relationships.

'Shhh,' she whisper-laughed, holding a finger up to her lips. When he wouldn't, she pressed her palm over his mouth to muffle his laughter. It took a few moments of deep breathing but he calmed, and when he did and her hand was still pressed to his lips, Lily became very aware of how close they were sitting and slowly retracted her hand. Heart racing from proximity and the look in his eyes, which was inscrutable once again but similar to the one she had seen that night in the stairwell, she said, 'Go out with me, then?' and for good measure, added, 'You did ruin my sister's engagement party.'

Laughter rapidly clearing his expression of the deep, dark look, James grinned down into her face, peering eagerly up into his. Hazel eyes crinkling, he pushed gently at the cleft in her chin so that her head bobbed backwards. 'Lord Almighty, you're going to be a handful.'

Heart thumping madly, Lily leaned into his fingers; warm and blistered. 'Is that a yes?'

'Nope.' His fingers curled just slightly around her chin and then he paused, bemused, as if he couldn't believe he was about to say it: 'It's a "not quite yet".'