Creature Comfort

by ohmygodshesinsane

Look, James is trying not to be an arrogant twat. Lily's been given the role of 'swot', but she has other ideas. Sirius would love to have a normal family, honestly, as would Remus. Severus wants to leave his muggle heritage behind, and Peter is sick of being left out. Growing up is hard at the best of times, and these? These are the worst of times. [1975-1981]

38. privacy (lack thereof)

A/N: I'm sorry it's been so long! The last two months have been a rollercoaster of uni work and my personal life really catching up with me. I feel really back in the flow of writing now and I'm hoping to continue posting a chapter every 2-3 weeks on Fridays. Content warning in this chapter for a lot of the usual things - underage drinking, drug use, implied substance abuse, swearing, and references to violence, as well as homophobia and homophobic attitudes. As always, read with care. I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for your continued support! 3 you mean the world to me.

Oh, and, this chapter is dedicated to my good friend E, without whom I would be rewriting the 20k words of this megastuffed supersized deluxe chapter. Thank her for this not coming out in November.

---

January 28th, 1976

"Maybe I should give out autographs." James slid into a seat at the Gryffindor table, grinning. Sirius sat next to him.

"You could make money from it," he pointed out, his bag banging into the ground. Peter and Remus settled themselves on the other side of the table, opposite them. James considered Sirius' proposal, briefly.

"Nah," he said, reaching for the pitcher of pumpkin juice. "I'll do it out of the goodness of my heart. I'll be paid in exposure. If I give them autographs for free, then they're indebted to be my fan for life. It's like if a quidditch player shakes your hand as a kid. You have to follow their team until they die."

Remus began buttering a piece of toast Peter handed to him. "What if the player changes teams?" he asked, frowning. James was pleasantly surprised – Remus, asking a question about quidditch. James'd always known he'd come round. "Do you keep following the team they were on, or their new team?" James filled his goblet. Sirius poured himself a cup of water and then began trying to transfigure it into wine.

"Well, they become traitors if they do that," James said easily. "You hate them for life, and you realise that all your childhood heroes were flawed."

"And you realise that the world is full of bitter, crushing disappointment," Sirius added, giving his wand another flick. The liquid in his cup had turned red, but Sirius wasn't satisfied. He frowned at James. "It's not alcoholic yet. I might have to spike it."

"It's seven-thirty on a Wednesday morning," Peter said. Sirius nodded.

"Lessons haven't started yet. If we'd partied last night, technically, we could still be going. And the sun isn't up yet." James glanced upwards. The floating candles burned low, peppering a grey-dawn sky. Hogwarts tended to very long nights in winter. Half the time, they started their first lesson in the dark and finished their last after sunset. It was a nightmare. He couldn't figure out why anyone would like what was, undoubtedly, the worst season in the world.

The two third-years they'd seen getting told off by Professor McGonagall slumped in and joined Hoover and Gumboil from the quidditch team. Their crime had been attempting to transfigure the Marble Staircase into bouncy sponge so that they could do flips off it. Apparently, that was 'dangerous'. James had grinned at them and given them a thumbs-up as they crept past, behind McGonagall's back. They looked at him now.

"Nice one, lads!" he called out. They exchanged bright smiles, pleased, and started chattering away to Gumboil and Hoover. Hoover's dark gaze didn't waver, though; he rested his chin in his hand, looking at them. Weird. "Alright, Hoover?" Hoover flinched, swiftly dropping his hand.

"Yeah," he called back, as his friends gave him curious looks. Hoover turned away, loading up his plate with food. James shrugged, turning back to his own mates.

"I think he likes you," Sirius taunted. James elbowed him, hard. Sirius elbowed him back. James aimed his elbow at Sirius' neck. Sirius ducked, and in the movement, knocked his cup, spilling red liquid all over the table, particularly running towards Pete. Peter jumped up, swearing, and Remus scooted out of the way.

"Sirius!" Peter complained.

"Blame James!" Sirius said, shoving James along the bench. James grabbed an apple out of the nearest fruit-bowl and lobbed it at Sirius' head. Peter whipped out his wand.

"Tergeo!' he said, pointing his wand. Sirius launched at James, pinning him down against the bench. James' glasses got knocked out of place; all he could see was a mass of Sirius' black curls. He grabbed Sirius' hair, trying to knee him in the guts, and Sirius grabbed his shoulders. Dickhead, James thought. He shook wildly, trying to get Sirius off.

"Shithead," James said.

"Fucker."

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" Sirius climbed off James. James sat up and straightened his glasses, squinting at the figure who'd rudely interrupted them. Not a teacher; no, it was Marcus McLaggen, that goody-two-shoes Gryffindor prefect. James screwed up his face, feeling like being a pain. Being a pain was always a reliable source of good old-fashioned fun.

"Sirius here was just talking about being a homosexual," James informed McLaggen, whose face contorted into absolute bewilderment. "D'you think we can earn the points back if he sucks you off? He wouldn't mind."

"You git!" Sirius cried. "No, make James suck you off, he'd love it."

McLaggen's dark skin seemed to burn. His jaw dropped open and shut several times. James snickered; he couldn't help it.

"Erm – five points from Gryffindor, for insolence, and inappropriateness," he decided. Sirius rolled his eyes. James shook his head.

"Come on, mate. I'm sure Sirius has had practise," James said. Sirius made a rude gesture. McLaggen inhaled sharply and turned to Remus, who hovered across the table, somewhere between sitting down and standing up. Peter grimaced.

"Lupin," McLaggen said. "You ought to be keeping an eye on this sort of behaviour. It's our job, as prefects. You shouldn't permit fighting." Remus winced.

"Erm – yes. I thought…I suppose I hoped they could get it out of their system without any innocent people getting involved," Remus tried.

"You should never be a bystander," McLaggen warned, deadly serious. James wondered how the other Gryffindor prefects hadn't throttled him. "There are no perfect victims, Lupin, it doesn't matter if neither of them are 'innocent'. Who started the fight?" James and Sirius exchanged an incredulous look. Was this wanker really going to write up a report? If James and Sirius got a black mark against their name every time they shoved each other around, they would've had to have been expelled by second year. Immediately, James began plotting how he could get McLaggen back for this. Horns coming out of his head, maybe, because he's the bloody devil…frame him for something, injure his pride a little bit…

"I'll handle the incident report," Remus said quickly. "You're right, McLaggen. Erm, I'm sure you don't want to do all the paperwork, I'll do it, I was here to witness it all. Thanks for stepping in." McLaggen blinked several times.

"We'll listen to Moony," Sirius promised. James flashed McLaggen his tournament-winning smile.

"Thank you for handling it, Lupin," McLaggen said stiffly, and strode away. James pulled a face behind his back. Sirius made a wanking motion with his hand. James grinned sideways at him.

"Knew you wanted to give him a tug, deep down," James whispered.

"Potter, I'll fucking kill-"

"Give it a rest, both of you, please," Remus interrupted, hiding half his face with his hand. "McLaggen'll check that I do make an incident report." Peter distributed pieces of jam toast to them. James grabbed it and took a bite.

"Come on, Moony, don't give us detention," Sirius said, dropping the toast onto his plate.

"He won't," said James, trading the toast for pumpkin juice, "he loves us too much."

"Well, I'm stuck now," Remus grumbled.

A chorus of hoots cut off that train of conversation. Dozens of owls soared into the Great Hall, carrying post. James beamed as he spotted Ignotus, his family's owl, heading right for him. They ended up with four owls at their part of the table: Ignotus with a package from James' parents; Pepper, the Pettigrews' owl, with a letter for Peter; a post office owl with a letter for Remus; and one of the Daily Prophet owls with the paper for Remus. Nothing came for Sirius.

"Happy Christmas," Remus said, paying the Prophet owl and handing over the newspaper to Sirius, who glowered. James tore off a bit of toast to give to Ignotus, and stroked the bird with his other hand.

"You're all late today," James commented. "Windy?" They'd seen the Whomping Willow viciously attacked passing birds out a window on their way down. It tended to get stroppy when it was blowing a bad gale. The post office owl and the Prophet owl took off. Pepper stood on Peter's plate of food; Peter's face fell.

"Shoo, come on, you're not that stupid," Peter said, nudging Pepper. The speckled owl hooted indignantly. As Ignotus munched away, James tore into the package; a small white envelope fell out, and he pushed it aside for now. There was a real mix of stuff; his mother had obviously been to Diagon Alley recently. He had four new, brightly-coloured quills; two pots of scarlet ink; the latest issue of Which Broomstick?; a variety of sweets from Sugarplum's; a pack of Dungbombs from Gambol and Jape's (with a note stuck to it insisting he 'ACT RESPONSIBLY'); and a slim, square cardboard package.

He couldn't resist tearing into it immediately. He let the rest of his stuff scatter across the table and tore strips off the cardboard package, desperate to find out what was inside. His eyes shone.

"Fucking hell!" he exclaimed, holding it up for all to see. "It's the new Hobgoblins album!" He was pretty sure it had only just come out on record. A large orange sticker blocked out most of the cover, which meant it had to be awesomely rude.

"What?" Peter exclaimed, dropping his letter into his breakfast; he'd obviously given up on keeping things out of it, as Pepper now stood in his eggs. "Wow! It's not even your birthday!"

"What'd you do to deserve all that?" Sirius asked, tone a little dark. James shrugged.

"Mum loves me," he laughed. He read the back of the vinyl sleeve. The songs were brilliant. "I'll put it on tonight – er, after my lesson." Since he'd qualified, McGonagall demanded that he go to her office every night to practise spells – there really wasn't that long until the national qualifying round. James barely knew where his competition would be coming from; after all, Hogwarts was the biggest (and the best) wizarding school in Britain. Who else would hold a candle to him? He thought most of them were just weird homeschoolers, but apparently there were a couple of would-be schools scattered around the place. James couldn't imagine going anywhere but Hogwarts. Every magical kid around had the opportunity to; it boggled his mind that they'd rather go to some backwater place in the middle of nowhere. But the bottom line was that he wasn't too concerned about the next round. He imagined all the other wizards and witches there would be the twitchy, inbred, crazy pureblood types who not even the Blacks went near. The sorts with misshapen faces and hunchbacks who'd never adapted to modern plumbing.

"Ooh, I can't wait," Peter enthused. "Can I touch it?" James gave it over for Peter to examine. Remus buried his head in the letter from his family. James figured he should probably do the same; there was probably some note of congratulation for him. He broke the crimson seal on the envelope and unfolded the parchment.

'Dearest James,

I must confess, I cried and cried when I got your owl – thank you for taking the time to write us, I'm sure you were plenty busy with your friends and your parties. We are so, so proud of you! And then your picture was in the paper – we've taken a cutting and it has pride of place, I assure you. We've spoken to Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore, and it's official – we'll be able to come watch you at the national round! We're so excited! I can't wait to see you, my sweet Jamie. I went to lunch with your Aunt Dorea on Monday and we just couldn't help ourselves. You've worked so hard and you deserve a reward! Please do share out the sweets with your friends and your little girlfriend, Lisbete. Are the two of you still together? You haven't mentioned her in a little while. Forgive my prying! I hope, whatever is happening between the two of you, that you treat her like the gentleman you are and act maturely. Please use the Dungbombs wisely. They're for fun between you and your friends – I don't want to be hearing about them in an owl unless it comes from you.

Your father and I have been keeping busy, there's lots to do these days. Your father has friends around more often than not. You know Dedalus Diggle, that Ravenclaw boy your father's spoken of before, that he helped to get out of the Owlery after locking himself in there for a week? Well, we have him around for dinner about once a week. He's mad about birds – real birds, not girls, don't be getting the wrong idea – but otherwise is quite intelligent. Dumbledore likes him, even though he got expelled. I suppose it's the same as with that Gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid. I'm sure you'll get to meet plenty of our friends over the summer, or on the Easter holidays, if you decide to come home. But you won't, will you? You'll tell us you're staying at school to study and proceed to get into the most mischief known to magic-kind. You wouldn't be my boy if you didn't.

I love you lots, my dear, and I miss you more than anything. I hope you're having fun and keeping the trouble to a reasonable minimum. Say 'hello' to Sirius, Peter, and Remus for me. And start telling Sirius now that he's more than welcome to stay with us for Easter; that boy will need a few months' preparation if he's ever going to say yes. We can work on him together.

All my love,

Mum.

P.S. Your father isn't home right now, but I know he loves you and thinks of you always, and he is so very proud of you. Write back if you get the chance, but otherwise, we'll see you next weekend, dearest!'

James smiled at the letter. He would've bet all the money in his vault his mum had talked the ears off everyone she knew about him. He'd go home and have to stare at his and Varma's faces over the mantelpiece, probably. It warmed him to know his parents would be there at the next round; he wanted them to see how well he could do. Besides, he wasn't allowed to take his mates, and he'd need somebody to cheer for him. He wondered if he could take Pete and Lisbete's banner to give to them to hold up.

"How are your parents?" Sirius asked, glancing up from the paper, a weird tautness in his face. He pulled at his earring, which James still thought was a bit mental, but sort of cool.

"Good," James said. "They're going to come watch me next weekend. All the stuff's because I won. Dad's got this barmy bird bloke around every week, apparently."

"What's he trying to do, seduce your mother?" Sirius asked, bemused. James punched him on the arm.

"Real birds, you perverted prick."

"Don't get McLaggen on my case again," Remus complained, folding up his own letter. He made for the paper next. Peter stared at the High Table, and James followed his gaze, grinning as he realised who had caught Peter's eye.

"You'll need to invest in new cologne," James advised him sagely. His stomach grumbled and he began ladling porridge into his bowl. Peter dragged his eyes away from the professor, frowning at James.

"What?" he said, and then laughed too loudly. Sirius swiped an Acid Pop from James' pile of sweets.

"If you want a chance," James continued. Sirius discarded the wrap in one quick moment and popped the green swirl in his mouth.

"You're going to burn a hole in your tongue someday," Remus told Sirius.

"That's the plan," Sirius agreed. "Then I'll be able to stick my thumb through it." Peter gagged. James flicked a bit of porridge at Sirius' cheek and Remus fixed him with a glare.

"How difficult is it to keep your food inside a bowl?" Remus asked. James and Sirius exchanged a grin.

"About as hard as Wormy is for Professor Abbott," Sirius smirked.

"Never fear, Moony, you can have some too," James said, scooping another spoonful of porridge.

"Oh, please," Remus said, lifting his glass as a shield. James made to flick it at him, laughed as he flinched, and shovelled the spoon into his own mouth.

Remus opened the paper as they finished their breakfast. He cleared his throat as James and Sirius creatively arranged grapes on a plate.

"What is it?" James asked, adding the finishing touches to the grape-letter 'K'.

"Has somebody else died?" Peter added anxiously, gnawing on a bit of bread.

"Did they arrest anyone?" Sirius leaned forward, rubbing his chin with his thumb.

"No and no," Remus said. "There was an attack in Godric's Hollow."

James wrenched the pages out of his hands and flattened it against the table, frantically scanning the article. Nothing about the Potters…if his parents had been involved, targeted, hurt, it would've been at the top. An unnamed muggle-born's house had been burnt to the ground, but they and their cat had made it out alive. James wracked his brains, counting the number of muggle-borns who lived in the village, trying to think who it might be.

"James?" He looked up into Sirius' solemn grey stare. He shook his head.

"Not Mum and Dad," he said, one hand going to his hair. "Some prick burnt down a place where a muggle-born lived. They reckon it's suspicious, could be in connection with 'terrorist activities'. No shit." He shoved the paper back to Remus.

"Why burn the place down, though?" Remus said quietly. "If they wanted to kill them, they could've gone inside and cast the spell." James grabbed a chunk of his hair, fury kindling in his stomach. Godric's Hollow was his. It was where he'd grown up, he'd learned to fly, he'd met his first muggle, been bored to tears while his mother chattered away to Bathilda Bagshot, and walked around the cemetery as his father narrated stories of ancestors from centuries past, Potters and Peverells alike, and where they'd visited his grandparents once their time had come. It was James' home. His skin crawled at the thought of those fucking Death Eaters infiltrating the place. Like poison.

"It's for show," Sirius said, just as quietly. James turned to him. Sirius' hand fell carelessly to the table. "It frightens people," he continued. "A big burning house. Think about it. Would you rather see a flash of green light and fall quietly into death, or would you want to panic? Would you want to feel your breath snuffed out; would you want to be consumed by fear? Burning's a terrible way to go." Silence fell over them. A lump caught in James' throat.

"I don't want to go in any of those ways," he said. "I'm going to go down in my bed at a hundred-and-fifty, or jumping off a cliff."

"I didn't think you'd be the type to off yourself," Sirius said. James wrinkled his nose.

"Nah. On a bet."

"Because you need the money so much," Remus said dryly.

"Don't jump off a cliff," Peter said, wringing his hands.

"You can go with him," Sirius offered.

"Oi!"

The tension seemed to dissipate, though James still held a tight knot between his shoulder blades. They walked Remus to Arithmancy, where a Hufflepuff girl, Mortensen, approached them.

"Hi," she said, freckled face flushing. An Asian girl from Slytherin, Clarke, made a show of looking away, flicking her hair back and forth.

"Hi," said James, smiling at her, though it took him a moment to figure out why she had joined them. Then he saw the way her gaze flickered hopefully to Sirius. Right. Well, Sirius hadn't shown any interest in a girl for a while. James thought it might be good for him.

"Hi," she said again, turning redder. She brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes and turned completely to Sirius. "It's so funny," she started. Then she paused for a moment, probably waiting for a reaction, James reckoned, and then giggled. James laughed with her, and nudged Sirius. Peter laughed too. Sirius stared at him. He was pissed. Maybe he thinks his cousin was involved, James thought, and his insides twisted.

"It's so funny," Mortensen started again. "I was thinking just the other day – do you remember that double date we went on, back in third year?" James did. He could've doubled with Sirius and taken out Mortensen's friend, but he'd been too busy doodling Lily Evans' initials into the margins of his homework and got himself into detention. He'd spent the whole time staring out the window and going over every time they'd talked that week.

"I do!" Peter squeaked. He'd replaced James.

"I was thinking," Mortensen pressed on. James scratched his head. At this rate, she could've been a Gryffindor. "I was thinking how funny it would be if we did that again. I mean – it'd be just like doing third year again, right? I mean, it's so stupid, but I remember Paige dared you to snort butterbeer up your nose, and -"

"A muggle-born had their house burned down overnight," Sirius said suddenly, finally looking at Mortensen. James froze. "What do you think of that? Or are you too busy thinking about something from two years ago that was 'sooooo funny'?" Sirius adopted a sickening, high-pitched voice. "'Merlin's beard, it is just soooo funny, I mean, who gives a fuck if anyone's dying, it's just soooo funny.'" Mortensen's eyes welled with tears. James swore softly, and clapped his hand on Sirius' shoulder, trying to smile.

"Oi, Mortensen, don't mind -" But she sucked in her breath, turned on her heel and stormed over to Clarke, who hadn't been listening but was midway through conjuring a tissue and shooting Sirius a filthy look.

"What an arsehole," Clarke said loudly, as Mortensen threw her arms around her friend. Snape looked up, and gave them one of his nasty little smiles. James' fingers itched for his wand. Remus slammed his book shut.

"Maybe you should go, Professor Quinlan will be here soon." As if on cue, the door opened and the Arithmancy teacher beckoned his small class inside. Remus left them. A good hour and a bit stretched out in front of them, at the end of which Charms was waiting. James steered Sirius down the corridor, vaguely heading for the Trophy Room. Peter shot James a questioning look, and he could only shrug. He guessed that Sirius was as put-off by the morning news as James. It didn't sit right. They got plenty of bad news these days – sometimes he wondered if the last time there'd been so much doom and gloom had been in the time of Grindelwald – but it was harder to brush past when it was close to home. And James thought if he had to live with the constant question of, 'was it my family member? Did they hurt someone? Are they hurt?', he'd be in a bad mood too.

"Why don't we go for a fly?" James suggested, gesturing to a nearby quidditch trophy.

"Or we could do that Charms homework? I haven't finished it, and Flitwick's going to give us even more, I know he will," Peter said, looking hopefully in the direction of the library. James squinted one eye. He hadn't done the Charms homework either, but good old Flitwick had been waiting for the end of class to collect it lately. It's not like they'd been given anything too hard, he could do it in an hour.

"I want to see Roshfinger," Sirius said. James' eyebrows quirked up.

"Right," he said. "Let's go looking."

They searched half the castle, grumbling about how much quicker it would be once they had a proper map. For now, it consisted of squiggles on scraps of paper. They had to figure out a trick for it, James reckoned. There'd be something that made it click into place. It was like learning a new play for a match – even the most confusing, complicated lot of moves had a little trick to it that made things ten times easier. As for why they needed the map – it wasn't like they forgot the secret passageways (they knew them too well), or which stairs led where on different days, but it could be a pain in the arse to remember exactly where everything was and how it joined together. Sometimes they couldn't remember until they were looking at it.

"I reckon we make sure the map changes with the days," James said out loud, as they hunted Dale down on the seventh floor. "That'd just be a spell or two, right? If we map each place that changes on different days, we can find something to make it automatically flip over each day."

"You want the map to tell the time?" Peter said. "That sounds hard."

"If anyone can do it, we can," said James. Sirius stared out a window, hands in his pockets. James nudged him. "Sirius?"

"There'll be a spell for it," he said.

They'd lost half an hour by the time they found Dale (at the boathouse, a weird and frankly annoying choice to operate out of) and got what Sirius needed. They walked deeper into the underground harbour that the boathouse held the entryway to. James and Peter lit the end of their wands, but Sirius trudged ahead in the dark. They sat down on the wooden path, pressing their backs to the freezing wall of rock behind them.

"Godric," Peter said, flinching from it. Sirius was already busy. James watched him roll.

"You right?" he asked, as Sirius handed each of them a joint. Sirius shrugged. James conjured a small flame and lit them up.

They were late to their next lesson, soaking wet and frozen to the bone. At some point it had seemed like a good idea to levitate each other over the icy water in the harbour and see how long they could hold the spell for. Peter's teeth chattered loudly.

"T-t-ter – gee – geo," Peter tried, pointing his wand at the puddles they left in the aisle between two rows of desks. Remus sighed as they shuffled towards him.

"Tergeo," he said clearly. The puddle neatly streamlined into the end of his wand. He shook it, spraying droplets across them.

"Three points from Gryffindor," Flitwick called from the front of the class. "Come on, boys, we're getting into very important work now. You can't afford to miss a lesson!"

"You reek," Lily added, raising an eyebrow. James grinned at her.

"Of what?" he said pleasantly. Marlene sniggered. Lily rolled her eyes.

"Check your eyes, snow-for-brains," she said, whipping out her wand. James blinked. "Odoriodulcis!" At one, the lingering smell was replaced by the fresh, sweet scent of flowers. Lily stowed her wand away. "It's a simple spell, you could be bothered to use it."

"Cheers, Evans," he said.

"Very good, Miss Evans! Take a point! Revising simple spells is crucial to ensuring you perform well on your exams! Over the years, we tend to get complacent, but when we no longer use these charms regularly, we can find that…"

They sat down the back with Remus, who grew short with them when he realised what they'd been up to, without him. He explained that he'd been paired with Mortensen in Arithmancy to practise their interpretations and all she'd wanted to know was why Sirius hated her.

"She's annoying," Sirius said briskly, putting his feet up on the desk. Even the weed hadn't calmed him. If anything, he was more restless. "Why would I want to go out with a fucking Hufflepuff?"

"I don't care who you go out with, but don't make it my problem, please," Remus said. "I actually need to pass my exams to have any attempt at a decent life, I can't be cleaning up your messes because you don't know how to use your manners."

"Merlin forbid anything I do interrupts your life, Moony, your shit never interrupts ours!"

James grabbed Sirius by the arm. Remus grabbed his things as if he to leave, but Sirius stood up, tearing his satchel from where it hung over his chair. He'd never unpacked it. James shot Peter and Remus an apologetic look and followed Sirius to empty seats in the second row. Flitwick said something. James' ears rung. Sirius slumped in the chair, eye-level with the desk, arms folded. James blew out hot air, thinking. Sirius wasn't going to say anything worth shit while they were in class. He dove into his bag and offered him a liquorice wand. Flitwick was now on the far side of the room, answering Kenna Macdougal's question.

"I can't stop thinking about it," James confessed. Sirius looked at him, chewing on the wand. James ran his fingers through his hair. "Sort of – you know, Mum used to take me into the village all the time. I reckon I've met everyone, and nobody was a real arsehole, there was nobody I'd want to have their place burned down, or to be killed, or any shit like that. All of them were nice people. They gave me sweets or laughed at me, one of the muggles showed me her tellovisand, you know? I dunno, but I know them, you know? They're my neighbours, sort of. And it's mental…I keep thinking, did Mum and Dad see the smoke from the house? Were they the ones to call the Aurors?"

Sirius was quiet for a long time.

"Do you want to bunk off History?" he said, finally. James faltered for a second, and then he pasted that James Potter grin right back on.

"Is that even a question?" he said. "Fuck History."

They dicked around for most of the day, and Sirius' mood grew fouler and fouler. Their final lesson was Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, and here Mortensen had a crowd of girls around her, comforting her and sending Sirius and James the fiercest glares. It was a practical lesson, and Sirius set the plant on fire while James and Peter lugged over two oversized watering cans.

"What are you doing?" Peter exclaimed, losing his grip. James hollered, but it was too late. The can smashed into Peter's foot with a sickening crack.

"Fuck!" James heaved his onto the table and rolled the other can off Peter's foot. Peter screamed once and then his voice died to a whimper. His eyes glistened. James knelt down, slinging an arm around him, and Sprout raced over, joining them, followed by Remus.

"He needs to go to the hospital wing at once," Sprout said. "Dear, dear, dear. Potter, Lupin, can you -?"

"Of course," James said. He and Remus helped Peter to his feet. As the three of them stood, a hex flew past them, smashing a terracotta pot on the shelf nearby.

"I know you did it, you fucking cow!" Sirius threw a hand-shovel through the glass wall of Greenhouse Three.

"Don't talk to her like that!" screamed another Hufflepuff girl, stepping in front of Mortensen as if to shield her.

"I didn't do it!" Mortensen sobbed, wand in hand.

"Don't fucking lie to me! Don't fucking – don't -!"

"Mr Black!"

"Get away from her!"

"I didn't do it, Sirius -!"

"Don't call me that, you fucking – you – you -!" Peter wailed in pain. James felt torn in half.

"It hurts," Peter whimpered. Sirius shouted, incoherent, and Sprout threw herself between the group of Hufflepuffs and Sirius. A red-haired Hufflepuff boy appeared, joining the girls' cause. Peter whined. Remus breathed raggedly. Sprout shouted and Sirius turned away, as if to leave –

He turned back, reached over Sprout, and smashed the Hufflepuff boy in the cheek.

"Sirius!" James cried out. The Hufflepuff – maybe his name was Forsythe? – staggered back, and the girls around him gasped. The rest of the class had stopped in their tracks. Sprout screamed, the Hufflepuffs screamed, Sirius jumped over a workbench, beelining for James. James and Remus hurried Peter towards the door – he didn't know what to do, fuck, what the hell was going on with Sirius Black?

Sirius appeared in front of them as they were halfway out the door. Fury stained his face red, his hair fell long and loose, his eyes were wild. He grabbed James hard by the shoulders. James made to grab him with his free hand, but Sirius shook him off.

"You were supposed to back me up!" Sirius screamed. "You – you -!" James had never seen him like this. Not this bad. Sirius had a temper, yeah, and it had a tendency to simmer until it exploded, yes, but James had not seen him like this. It was like he was possessed. Cursed.

"Sirius," James said, trying to sound calm, adopting the voice he used in the very first practice of the year with a brand new, very young player who'd screwed up something simple. "Mate, we need to get Pete to the hospital wing, let's ditch this, c'mon, we'll -" Sirius shoved him, hard, and had James' reflexes not been as quick as they were, he would've dragged Peter and Remus down.

"Fuck you, Potter," Sirius spat. Somebody 'ooooh'ed and James wished Sirius would punch them. Sirius made to storm off and Sprout caught him.

"You stay here," she growled, voice trembling. James felt sick. Peter groaned again, and before he knew what he was doing, he was powering up the slope to the castle. He could not make sense of anything. His head pounded. Something was wrong. Why didn't he know what was wrong? He felt like the shittiest best mate in the world. How long had it been building?

Pomfrey took Peter in to fix his foot, and James and Remus hung back. Never mind that Remus had his broken bones reset once a month, he couldn't stomach seeing it happen to other people. James was more used to it from quidditch. He'd probably broken about ten bones himself at one time or another. He'd always thought it was cool to see, to really feel the magic working. But today he stayed with Remus. His head was spinning too fast to breathe.

"Something's wrong with him," he said, stating the obvious, as they heard Peter grunt from behind a curtain. James fidgeted with his hair. "Something's fucked in his brain. I don't know. Have you noticed -? What do you -? It's as if he woke up today just ready for a fight." Remus folded his arms across his chest, staring at his shoes.

"Something with his parents, maybe," he suggested. "Or merely a bad day."

"It's more than that," James said, though he had no evidence. He just knew. He knew Sirius. His parents had been awful for years, there'd been plenty of days where everything had gone wrong, this was…well, not different, but more. Amplified. He swore, scuffing his shoe along the stone floor. The doors opened and shut, letting in Forsythe and a group of the Hufflepuff girls, all of whom looked very upset.

Peter hobbled out from behind the curtains, Madam Pomfrey following him.

"All fixed," she told them. Peter nodded weakly.

"It's still sore," he said.

"Yes, but you wanted to leave, Mr Pettigrew. I have no objections to you staying until the potion begins to work," she told him. Peter flushed.

"No, it's okay. Thank you."

"Thank you," James added.

"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," said Remus. Her lips flickered from their usual stern line.

"If there's any trouble with the foot, come straight back," she instructed them. They nodded, and helped Peter out through the large double doors.

Sirius stood outside, leaning against the wall hands in his pockets, dark hair hiding his face. James patted Peter on the shoulder and approached cautiously. Sirius looked up, grey eyes wary.

"Peter's fixed," James said casually, leaning next to him. Sirius dug a fingernail into the meat of his lower lip.

"Detention for the next four weeks," he said. James nodded. That was about right. James reckoned if it had been anyone else, he would've been suspended. But Dumbledore was a good sort. He knew what Sirius' family was like.

"Bummer."

"Yeah. It's whatever." Peter and Remus joined them. Sirius tugged at his earring. "What time are you meeting McGonagall?"

Peter didn't want to go far while his foot was still healing, so they helped him hobble to a nearby unused classroom that nobody ever bothered to lock. Sirius volunteered no new information and James didn't know what to ask. In the end, they did homework quietly, aa new personal low. James kept sneaking glances at Sirius. His face was like a stone. At four o'clock, Peter was feeling better, and they packed up to escort James to meet McGonagall. They went down the grand staircase and crossed through the Middle Courtyard, dodging streams of younger students racing to freedom or to their very last lesson for the day. Nobody came from the Transfiguration classroom. James adjusted his bag and sidled up.

"Right," he said. "I'll see you after. Are you going to keep studying?" He looked to Sirius for an answer, but Sirius stayed silent.

"I could do with it," Remus said, when it became clear that Sirius wasn't going to contribute.

"Me too," Peter nodded. Sirius pulled at his lip.

"Whatever, I don't care."

"Well," said James. "I'll see you losers later. Honestly." Remus smiled mildly.

"Fuck off, James."

He rapped on the door and waited, glancing back at his friends.

"Maybe she sees other students," Sirius suggested, leaning against a pillar. Peter looked at him sideways, eyebrows lifting, and Sirius snorted. That's good. "Is Abbott not enough for you, Wormy? You want to get in with McGonagall too?" James laughed. Peter flushed.

"McGonagall's old," he protested.

"Abbott's too old for you," Remus said absently, fiddling with the cuff of his jumper.

"She's only twenty-three!" Peter protested. "If I'd been born a year earlier, we would've both been at Hogwarts at the same time, that's not too old at all! When I graduate, she'll only be - she'll only be twenty-five or twenty-six, and I'll be seventeen, and that's not even a big age difference, really, she's younger than Patricia!" He was blue in the face by the time he finished his defence. James cocked his head to one side.

"You've thought about it a lot, haven't you, Pete?" James said.

"He's preparing for the court case," said Remus, not looking up.

The door swung open, and James whirled around. A short Chinese girl with a blue-and-bronze tie around her neck and an unpleasant expression looked him up and down. He blinked. Not McGonagall.

"Who are you?" the girl demanded, in a thick Scottish accent. James ran his fingers through his hair and smiled at her, but inside he was a little put-off. He'd been declared one of the school champions not four days ago and she didn't even know who he was?

"James Potter," he said, offering his hand for her to shake. "I'm going to be representing the school at the International Transfiguration Tournament." She did not shake his hand. Nor did she look impressed. What was her deal?

"I'm supporting Varma," the girl said. "Anyway, we're using this room for practise, McGonagall said we could. So piss off, please." She turned to slam the door. James caught it as it closed.

"Hang on!" he said, stepping inside. A chorus of angry Ravenclaws glared at him. They were so uppity. The girl from the door narrowed her eyes.

"You're interrupting, actually, it's really quite rude," she told him. What the hell? James thought.

"Where's McGonagall?" he asked. "I have meetings with her on Tuesdays."

"Thanks for sharing?" said the girl. "She's in her office. Leave, now, thanks."

"I'd be delighted to," said James, giving her a mocking little bow before he left.

"What is it?" Sirius asked, kicking off the pillar and joining James on his march up the stairs. James shook his head.

"Fucking Ravenclaws," he said.

"Fuckwits, all of them," Sirius agreed. Peter and Remus' footsteps clicked on the stairs behind them.

"Nothing gets me firmer than maligning entire houses," Remus muttered. James guffawed, turning to whack him on the shoulder.

"Great, now we've got two blokes up our arses with hard ones." Sirius whispered to James.

"Oh," said James, "you'll be loving that."

"I'm not hard for you!" Peter squeaked. "I'm not hard for anyone!"

"You're just hard at the thrills of life, then?" Sirius asked.

"One day, people are actually going to think you're homosexuals," Remus informed them, as they came to the top of the stairs.

"Men already love me," James assured him, stopping in front of the door to McGonagall's office. "They can't help it. It's not their fault they have no luck." James struck a pose, leaning against the wall, one knee up, hand against his forehead. Sirius, however, stood still as a someone who'd been Stunned.

"What the fuck, Lupin?" he said, a very ugly look on his face. James' smile flickered. "Nobody's going to think we're fucking queers." Remus adjusted the strap of his satchel. James stepped forward, one brow furrowing. Leave it, he thought. Just leave it.

"Obviously not, James has a girlfriend and everyone saw you and Marlene at your birthday party," Remus said, expressionless, words very even. James could read Sirius like a book, even though everyone else seemed to think he was as clear as their History of Magic textbook; Remus was a sight harder. "It was a joke. Ha, ha." Sirius stared. James swooped in.

"Moony was just subtly declaring his love!" he said, diving past Sirius and throwing his arms around Remus. Remus ducked and James made kissing noises, pecking the air ferociously, and Peter burbled a laugh. Remus spun round, trying to shake James off, but James clung on for his life.

"You are a queer!" Peter snorted, pointing at James. James let go of Remus and crash-tackled Peter, making the kissing noises even wetter.

"Oh, Wormy," he moaned. Peter squirmed, laughing hard. "Oh, yeah. Oh yeah!"

"Mr Potter. Pettigrew. Black, Lupin." James looked up. Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway in sensible maroon robes and a very tall hat, looming over them. Her eyes crackled with disapproval. James got off Peter, jumped to his feet, and offered a hand to help him up.

"Afternoon, Professor," he said cheerily. "The lot downstairs told me you were up here? I was wondering if our training was still on for today?"

McGonagall dismissed the others sternly and James followed her inside, taking a seat in front of her desk. She too sat down, and with a squiggle of her wand, dried the ink on an official-looking piece of parchment and sent it to fold itself and settle perfectly atop a stack of envelopes.

"The Ravenclaws working downstairs are very talented," she said, looking up at him through her glasses. "I expect this time next year, one of them will be in your seat."

"Nah, they won't," said James. "O.W.L year. It'll be too distracting for them. And we have to keep it in Gryffindor. Varma's the last intruder. Next year, it should be an all-Gryffindor competition, in the school round."

"Potter, I would be accused of being biased if I only nominated Gryffindor students to compete."

"And? Has Slughorn ever nominated anyone but a Slytherin to go in that potions competition?" James raised an eyebrow. McGonagall pursed her lips.

"I believe he seriously considered sending Miss Evans," she said, after a long moment.

"Lily would've deserved it more than any of those Slytherin arse – prick – er, students." McGonagall gave him a reprimanding look. He ran his fingers through his hair. Lily bested everyone in Potions, even Sirius, even Snape – whom, James had to begrudgingly admit, was actually half-decent at Potions, probably because he had nothing else to do with his life and so decided to spend it wasting away in a dark, damp little corner of the dungeons. "I'll bet he sent a pureblood too."

"He said it came down to age and experience, not than heritage or house. He sent Wilkes, a sixth year."

"Right," James said. McGonagall paused.

"Shall we begin?"

James broke a sweat as they worked. At this point, he wasn't learning many new spells: only a couple of odd ones not regularly taught at Hogwarts, ones McGonagall thought students from other parts of Britain could use.

"I can't get the pronunciation right," James complained, after trying another Welsh spell.

"No," McGonagall agreed, and James felt a flush of annoyance. "But you need to be able to recognise the spell at the very least. You can't fight it unless you are aware of it."

He was exhausted by the time they finished, panting hard. It tired him more than quidditch, in an entirely different way. Even McGonagall seemed tired. She slowly made her way back to sit behind her desk. James leaned against it, catching his breath, dark hair stuck to his forehead.

"Not long now," he said, brushing his hair back. It wasn't this Saturday, but the next. He had one more session with McGonagall.

"You're progressing well," she told him, summoning two glasses and a pitcher of water. "However, your spellwork was very direct today. When you are practising over the next week, you need to work on ensuring you remember the fine details. You cannot afford any sloppiness if you wish to win, which I certainly hope you are, given all this time we've spent."

James inhaled sharp through gritted teeth. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll work on it. Sorry, Professor."

The pitcher filled a glass of water for each of them. James took it and downed it in a gulp. He wiped his mouth.

"That concludes our session for today," she told him. James set the glass down and grabbed his things.

"Thank you. I'll keep practising. I'll be right." He raised a hand in farewell and made for the door. Where were the others? He couldn't see Sirius hanging around the library for that long.

"Potter?"

James swirled around. McGonagall pursed her lips.

"Don't be afraid to take time for yourself," she said slowly. "Fifth year is very demanding. And the world isn't very forgiving at the moment."

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I will. Thanks."

He doubted the others were still at the library, but he didn't feel like checking. He used the secret passageways to get to Gryffindor Tower quickly. Their dormitory was empty. He jumped in for a shower, washing the sweat off him, staring at the tiles. The article had said that the wizards who'd done it were still at large. No descriptions of them. What did you do, after something like that? Go home for a shower? Take your hood off and head to the pub for a pint? How did you go on?

Or was it like work, he wondered, turning to rinse the soap from his back. Did Death Eaters even get paid? He rolled his shoulders back and forth. Or did they just do it because they wanted to? Because they really believed, deep down, that they were better than everyone, and that the population needed to be purged? How did a bunch of untrained supremacists regularly outwit the Aurors? Why was nobody else fighting them? There was never an article in the papers about vigilante justice. The politicians barely even spoke out against the purist mob, except to condemn violence. What good did that do? If they were at the point of burning homes to the ground and making people disappear, how would some poncy politician saying they were 'deeply saddened' change their mind?

He stepped out from under the water, turning the taps and towelling himself off. Still nobody had come in, so he waltzed out into the dormitory and dressed in there. How long is this shit going to go on for? Until somebody has enough and actually does something? What's Dumbledore doing? If Dumbledore could defeat Grindelwald, the most evil wizard of the twentieth century, why couldn't he take out this Voldemort loon?

James threw on a set of plain crimson robes and sat on his trunk, thinking. The elves had come and remade all the beds, filled up the pitcher on the desk, cleaned the windows and dusted the dressers. Part of him was tempted to pull the curtains around his bed and crawl under his covers to sleep, but it wasn't yet time for dinner. And they had mountains of homework to do, and he really ought to practise the spells for the tournament a bit more…and go for a run…

He found himself staring at Sirius' bed for no good reason. It didn't look as if he'd been back since it had been cleaned. His trunk sat neatly at the end of his bed, ornately carved, and his pillows were pristine. Even the bottles under his bed were lined up neatly…

James frowned.

He went over to Sirius' bed, getting on his knees and looking underneath. For whatever reason, the elves had chosen to leave them there instead of chucking them out. Five orderly rows of four Grindylows bottles sat primly, as if they were a collection and not leftover rubbish. Grindylows had been on sale last time Bagman made a Hogsmeade run, so they'd all been drinking it. Now, all green stains were suspect. They were joined by a half-full bottle of Bungbarrel Spiced Mead, a bottle of Beetle Berry Whiskey, and a couple of ciders. It wasn't that weird. The boys always had a bit of alcohol on them, just in case – James had a bottle of firewhisky stashed at the bottom of his trunk, and there was probably a four-pack floating around. The weird part was that Sirius had told them he was out of alcohol on Sunday. They'd partied after James won the tournament, but he didn't remember them drinking twenty Grindylows. He didn't even remember having one.

He sat back on his heels, sighing. He ran his fingers through his hair. It didn't really have anything to do with him. They all drank, they all smoked; where would he get off if he tried to tell Sirius what to do? Maybe he'd found the mead and the whiskey and the ciders after Sunday and forgot to mention it. James stood up, guilt slicking his palms. Sirius could do whatever he wanted. And if he thought about it – really thought about it – his gut feeling was that it wasn't just the alcohol. If that was even playing a role. There was something else.

But Sirius would come to him in his own time, if that was what he wanted. James trusted him. He checked the clock, and realised the time was getting on. If the others hadn't come up yet, he doubted they were going to. Maybe they were working on the map. If they managed to get that idea onto paper, tracking the Slytherins' little routines and putting them on there, maybe the teachers, maybe themselves…well, it'd be handy for finding people. If only they could make it work in real-time. There was probably some complicated spell for it.

He headed downstairs. The common room wasn't too busy. A group of first years played Exploding Snap, and a couple of older students sat on the sofas by the fire with piles of books. He grimaced. He refused to turn into a prat about studying in the senior years. He was half-ready to just take the minimum three subjects and call it a day. There was no sign of Lisbete or her friends anywhere, but there was a flash of red hair at a table on the far side, hidden by a tower of books. He fixed his collar and sidled over, leaning against the table.

"Evening, Evans," he said pleasantly. "McKinnon, Macdonald."

"James," Marlene grinned.

"Hi," said Mary. Lily dotted her sentenced with a flourish and looked up at him. Dark circles hugged her undereyes. How much sleep was she getting? He could see her face in the dwindling light of the fire again, he could smell her, vanilla and cinnamon. It was only faint now, with them being all of a foot apart. He still wasn't sure that he hadn't been dreaming.

"Potter," she said. "Have you something to contribute regarding boggarts?"

"We haven't done boggarts yet," he said.

"We're doing them before the Easter holidays," she told him. "I figure it's the sort of thing you want to be prepared for. Do the theory now, face your worst fear later."

"Right. Well, I can help." She raised her eyebrows sceptically. He grinned. "Look back at your page for a second."

"I don't trust you," Lily said, looking at her page. James wiggled his eyebrows at Marlene and Mary. Marlene laughed. Mary smiled nervously. James leaned over and clapped his hands over Lily's eyes. She snorted.

"Trust the process," he advised. "Are you scared?"

"No."

"Right!" He took his hands away. "Well, we've ruled one thing out. There you go."

"What, now I know that my boggart's not you?"

"It's not the dark," he corrected. "But it's also probably not me."

"You don't scare me," she said, green eyes flashing mischievously. "You annoy me."

"No I don't," James said, grabbing a seat and pushing it between Marlene and Lily. He flipped it round and sat down, resting his arms on the back of the chair and looking over it. "I'm charming. I'm great company."

"Don't you have a tournament to be preparing for?" Lily asked, dipping her quill in her inkpot. "Or friends to share your great company with?"

"Yeah, where's Sirius?" Marlene asked. "Did McGonagall actually let Filch hang him by the ankles?"

"No, he'd enjoy it too much," James said flippantly. He hooked his chin over the top of the chair. "I don't know where they are. I came here straight after my session with McGonagall. You haven't seen them?"

"I saw Sirius in Herbology," Marlene said unhelpfully. James shoved his glasses up his nose with his thumb.

"Is he alright?" Lily asked, writing something down. "Are you fighting?"

"We don't fight," James said. Fuck you, Potter.

"What happened with him and that Hufflepuff girl? Mortensen?" Marlene asked.

"Oh, she's nice," Lily said. Mary murmured her agreement. James shrugged. Lily looked at him. "What's wrong with you? Usually you'll say anything, if you get to hear the sound of your own voice."

"Nothing," he said. "I don't know what's going on with Sirius. Bad day. He'll figure it out." It had been fine to admit it to Remus, but telling outsiders that he didn't know what was going on – it made him uneasy.

"You should talk to him," Lily said, writing down something else.

"We talk."

"I should've made my meaning clearer: you need to communicate."

"That's the same thing, Evans. What's it to do with you, anyway? Do you just like getting into people's business?"

"Frankly," she said, scribbling away faster, "I prefer my Herbology lessons without a fire or a fight. When you punch someone in front of the entire class, it becomes their business, I think. And Black's not likely to talk – communicate – with me." She flicked through a few pages of an open book until she found what she was looking for, and started again. "Has anything happened? How's his family? Is he getting along with his brother?"

James felt, comparatively, that taking a peek at all the bottles under his bed wasn't very intrusive at all.

"They're the same," he said. "It's not that."

"There's not a girl he fancies or something?" James laughed.

"Sirius doesn't fancy girls. Girls fancy Sirius."

"Or, he thinks they fancy him, when really they're in it for the same reasons he is, and then he just ends up making a colossal arsehole of himself," Marlene suggested, putting a book down a bit too hard.

"Maybe that's his problem, then," Lily said, a bit of mirth in her voice. "He's realised he has impossible standards and he's going to end up staring into a pond forever." She looked up, smiling slyly. "Maybe you and he can find a lake to share."

"Bugger off, Evans."

"But seriously," she said, and then sighed, "no pun intended, but honestly – for all you two ramble on, you don't open up that much. Something's bothering him and you're his best friend, so it's your job to investigate."

"Are you suggesting I go through his rubbish?" James asked. She made a face.

"I don't suggest anyone goes through Sirius Black's rubbish," she said. "But probe a little. You're very good at always getting in my road, you should be an expert at getting in his."

"Thanks, I think."

"You're most welcome," Lily said. "Now, off you go. I'm busy." James stood and bowed to each of them in turn. He felt surprisingly…validated? Not that Lily knew what she was on about – he could've figured it out himself if it was right or wrong. But maybe she'd sped up the process a bit. He was Sirius' best mate. He didn't have to pry…just have a little bit of an investigation.

No going through the rubbish. But maybe a little bit of communication.

---

January 30th, 1976

"Are you kidding me? Oh my God." Lily pushed open the door to the ensuite and stared at herself in the mirror, combing her fingers through her hair. Golden sparkles glittered on her fingertips. Marlene's head popped up behind her, grinning crookedly.

"It's a birthday prank," she said cheerfully. Lily's red hair shimmered in the yellow light of the bathroom, courtesy of the packet of glitter Marlene dumped on her head in the place of an alarm.

"You've been spending too much time with those boys," Lily accused, glaring at Marlene in the mirror. With an inquisitive "Mraow?", Mary appeared on Lily's other side in a pink nightgown, softly stroking her grey cat, Berlioz.

"Will it wash out?" Mary asked, frowning.

"Don't!" Marlene said. "Come on, it looks good, Lily. It gives you a birthday glow. A sixteen-year-old glow. Because now you're sixteen, you old codger!"

"Thank you, Marlene," Lily said, turning to scratch Berlioz's chin. Immediately, he started to purr. Mary smiled adoringly at him. "I appreciate the reminder that now I'm sixteen, the same age as every book character ever at their peak, and that I have a year before I become decrepit and unlovable." Marlene pulled a face.

"Merlin, why is sixteen-year-old Lily such a grump? You're going to be unlovable, alright." Lily rolled her eyes. She shook out her hair and fiddled with the soft belt of her dressing gown.

"Thank you again, Marlene," she said sarcastically. "Now, do I get the first shower?"

"Bitch," Marlene scowled. "Yes."

"Have fun," Mary smiled. Lily grinned to herself as she gathered up her uniform and her towel. She washed most of the sparkles out of her hair in a hot, steamy shower, though Marlene's sticking charm held out in places. She lathered her skin in a creamy vanilla soap. Sixteen. She rubbed water into her cheeks with her palms, looking at a blurry reflection of herself in the head of the shower. Did she look older? Maybe, she thought. Were all the people in all those stories really sixteen? She didn't feel capable of half of what they got up to.

She dressed, sparkles falling onto her robes, and throttled the brush through her hair. Marlene must've taken her advice for once and properly worked on those sticking charms, because the glitter would not budge, even after she secured her hair into a ponytail. Lily examined her reflection for a moment. Sixteen. This is what you look like as sixteen-year-old Lily. When she'd been little, she'd thought she grew taller with each birthday; today, however, seemed to confirm the awful truth that she had stopped growing at thirteen. She was never going to be tall again. At least she was taller than Mary.

"Open up!" Marlene banged on the door. "We have to get clean too, you know!" Lily sighed, shoved her brush in the top drawer, and turned, pulling open the door to their ensuite.

"But it's my birthday," Lily frowned, stepping aside to let her in. Marlene barrelled through – horribly tall, really, how'd she get all the luck? - and slammed the door shut. Mary laid on the floor, playing with Berlioz, and Alisha pulled back her curtains, blinking furiously, her blonde hair in a frazzled bun.

"Morning," Alisha yawned, stumbling out of bed and making for her trunk. "Happy birthday, Lily."

"Thank you!" Lily pulled out a small bag of make-up and applied it carefully, squinting into the small mirror of a compact. Steam poured from under the ensuite door. Once she was satisfied – a swipe of mascara and a swipe of concealer beneath the eyes was all you could get away with without the professors having something to say – she packed the little bag back in her trunk and sat cross-legged by her pillows. At the foot of her bed were two presents – one from Marlene that was suspiciously thin and square, and something box-shaped from Mary. To open them once Marlene came out, or after breakfast, when the owls had come from her parents with their card and gift? She didn't particularly want to open them in front of Amy and Alisha – it felt a bit weird. Mary stood by the bathroom door with an armful of her clothes, and Alisha was by Amy's bed, fully-dressed but with rumpled hair, rummaging through Amy's trunk.

Lily frowned, getting up. The curtains around Amy's bed were pulled back, but the bed was empty. It looked untouched from when the room had been cleaned while they were in their lessons (Lily had no idea how it happened, but there was nothing better than coming back from Herbology or a gruelling Defence lesson to a freshly-made bed and a sparkling clean shower). The bed was made, the pillows were fluffed.

"Is everything alright?" Lily asked, going over.

"Yeah," Alisha said, stuffing a set of black school robes into her satchel. She shut the lid on Amy's trunk and touched her wand to the lock, muttering something. Click. She stowed her wand away and stood up.

"Where's Amy?" Alisha slung the satchel over her shoulder and made for the door, Lily on her heels.

"Quidditch practice," Alisha said, turning the knob and stepping into the stairwell. "She forgot to take a new uniform down, so I'm taking it for her. I'll see you in Transfiguration? Happy birthday, again." Alisha closed the door behind her. Lily frowned, folding her arms across her chest. How did Alisha know that Amy had forgotten her uniform if she hadn't seen Amy since practice had finished?

"That was…weird," Lily said. She turned round to face Mary. "Don't you think-"

"Your turn!" Marlene barraged out the bathroom and Mary rushed in. Marlene still had a brush in her hair. "Lily!" she exclaimed, eyes wide, chucking her clothes on her bed and grabbing Lily by the shoulder. "I need your help. I can't get it right. My hair. My fringe is a nightmare. And it's all at that awkward length where it's not short anymore but it's not long. Can you help me? Your charms are the best." Lily gently pulled the brush out of Marlene's tangled hair and sighed.

"Alright then," she sighed. "Let me look."

The three of them got to breakfast before the post did, which was really the main concern. They followed in a pack of Slytherins complaining loudly about the cold. Lily recognised some of them from the quidditch matches.

It was then that the penny dropped.

"Marlene," she said, as they took their seats at the crowded Gryffindor table, "did you skip training for my birthday?"

"Training?" Marlene frowned, sitting down opposite her. "For quidditch, you mean?"

"No, for the circus." Lily grabbed a bowl and began ladling porridge into it. Marlene shook her head.

"No, we don't train on Fridays," she said. "But still give me the credit! I would've, if it was on. I value you more than quidditch." Really, really weird. Alisha was lying.

"I'm touched," Lily said, putting her hand over her heart. Why would Alisha lie? If Amy was in the hospital wing, all she had to do was say. Lily wouldn't have pried as to why, if it was something private or embarrassing. She would've wondered, yes, but she wouldn't have pried.

The owls arrived, and a school one landed by Lily. Muggle parents could write letters to the school in the usual way – or, to a muggle address they were given, one that the postman could find – and then the school owls collected the mail from there and brought it in. She thanked the proud brown owl and opened the envelope, biting her lip. Just the one. Nothing from Petunia, then. It wasn't like her to be late – if she was going to send a card, it would've arrived this morning. You're the worst sort, Tuney, you're rotten. She set the envelope aside and opened the card. Inside, in swirling pink font, was a generic 'Happy Birthday!' along with a message in her mother's all-capitalised hand.

'DEAR LILY. WE ARE WISHING YOU A VERY HAPPY 16TH BIRTHDAY. WE CANNOT BELIEVE OUR BABY GIRL IS GETTING SO OLD! WE LOVE AND MISS YOU SO MUCH. WE ARE SO PROUD OF THE YOUNG WOMAN YOU ARE GROWING INTO. ALL OUR LOVE, MUM AND DAD AND PETUNIA.' Lily huffed. She didn't believe Petunia was so skint she couldn't send her own card. She earned as much as their father did and lived in a little flat with two other girls, while still accepting whatever Mum and Dad sent down to her to help her out. She was a girl with brand new dresses who went out every weekend; she wasn't wanting. And yet all she could bother with was tacking her name onto the end of their parents' card.

I hate you, Lily thought savagely; she took it back at once. A small brown package came with the envelope, and she set it aside for later. She didn't want to rip into it all in front of everyone.

Alice and Frank popped over to wish her a happy birthday, followed by Laura Vickers, and a well-meaning Hufflepuff girl called Paige, whom Lily had barely spoken to in her whole life. Neither Alisha nor Amy surfaced at all. Severus caught her eye from the far Slytherin table. She hovered by the doors as she left, present tucked under one arm. As she expected, Severus got up and began walking over.

"Do you mind?" Lily asked, already smiling apologetically at Marlene and Mary.

"Yes," Marlene said shortly.

"No," said Mary, blinking very fast. "Erm – we might go up….if that's alright. I can take your present? And get your things and all for Transfiguration. If you want to hang out with him." Lily's heart swelled with gratitude. She knew Nary wasn't – well, she and Sev weren't friends – so it meant all the more.

"You don't have to," she said. "I can run up after this. I don't want to give you another thing to carry."

"It's your birthday," Mary said, toeing the ground. "I don't mind."

"Thank you." Lily squeezed her in a quick hug and handed over the present. Marlene and Mary waved goodbye and made for the Marble Staircase. Lily whirled around and found Sev at her side. His dark hair hid his face, save for his long, hooked nose. He wore neither a scarf nor gloves, and Lily wondered how he hadn't frozen that nose of his off.

"Can we go somewhere private?" he asked, not looking at her. Disappointment curdled in her stomach, the same as she'd felt when she saw Petunia's name on the card.

"Alright," she said. They crossed the Entrance Hall and went through a wooden door into an empty corridor lined with classrooms and lit by torches, dark even in the daylight. They stopped by a portrait of a very disgruntled wizard. Sev looked up, revealing a small smile. He met her eyes for a moment then looked away again.

"Happy birthday, Lily," he said, gaze darting between her and the floor.

"Thank you, Sev," she said. He nodded. A portrait snored loudly. Lily hesitated a moment, then reached her arms out and hugged him. He stiffened, not returning it, but she heard his breathing change. She didn't expect him to hug back. She let go. He glanced down the corridor, and her stomach flipped again. You don't want anyone to see us, she thought. She felt stupid, sneaking hugs in dark passageways like they were doing something wrong.

"I remembered your birthday," he said. She felt worse. She still didn't know how she'd forgotten. No, that wasn't true. She did know. She'd barely been able to get herself out of bed in the morning, let alone remember the date. The ninth had come without an announcement, and she'd found herself looking into his eyes without an excuse. But she was doing better, now. If there was any universal truth about fifth year, it was that it was relentlessly busy. Between her lessons, the extraordinary amount of homework piled onto them, her prefect patrols, planning the house fundraiser and making sure Mary didn't go anywhere on her own, she didn't have time to stop and mope. At least, not until two in the morning, when the fire in the common room was nearly out. She'd hoped exhaustion would push her beyond the brink into dreamless sleeps, but she had no such luck.

"Was it any good? The book?" The night of his birthday, she'd hunted around the Gryffindor common room for catalogues. Marcus McLaggen had one from Flourish and Blotts, and she'd sent off for a late gift for Sev. "I know you've always talked about creating your own spells. I thought a history might shed some light."

"It was interesting," Severus said, and she beamed at him. "It will be useful for the theoretical part of our O. too."

"I'm glad to hear it," she said. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his wand. Her teeth grazed her lip curiously. "Sev?" He raised his wand slowly, drawing it close to his chest. "Sev?"

"It's your birthday present," he said, voice so soft that she had to lean closer. Last year, she'd been taller on her birthday, and they'd been the same height when they went home for the summer. Now his eyes were a little higher than hers, as was the top of his head, though he spent so much time stooped over that she hadn't realised until now. Lily felt old. Like someone's nan, watching the grandchild she'd held as a baby shoot up to tower over her.

"What is?" she asked.

"Watch closely," he commanded. She blinked at the surprising forcefulness in his voice. He curled his wand around, and made the shape, almost, of the number three. "Muffliato." The world seemed to grow quieter, but aside from that, nothing seemed to have changed.

"I haven't heard of that spell," she told him. He inclined his head.

"You wouldn't've," he said, looking at the ground. "I invented it. It's mine." Lily's stared at him, then closed her mouth, realising it had fallen open. Sev looked pleased.

"In two weeks?" she asked, incredulous.

"Of course not," he said. "I've been working on it since the summer, but the book gave me the answers I needed to perfect it. It allows one to have private conversations without being overheard," he explained. He gestured to the wider corridor. "Nobody can hear what I'm saying but us. If anyone else was in there, they would only hear a buzzing noise." Lily took a moment to comprehend it.

"That's – that's amazing," she gushed. To invent a spell at sixteen – they'd never learned about anyone so young managing it. "Are you – are you going to have it registered? If you patent it – everyone from the papers will want to talk to you – you could probably write for one of those journals, God, they might even give you a fancy certificate-"

"I don't need that," Severus interrupted, eyes fierce. "I don't need the whole world to tell me how clever I am." He looked at her meaningfully. The intensity of his gaze made her swallow. "It's for you." Her lips parted, but she couldn't find the words.

"Sev," she said softly. And he smiled at her, and she felt warm through. "Thank you. I can't believe you'd do that for me."

"I'd do anything for you."

Lily hesitated a moment, and then wrapped Severus in a hug. He inhaled sharply and slowly hugged her back. She pressed her head into his shoulder. Nobody had ever invented a spell for her before. She thought probably nobody else ever would again.

"I just can't believe it," she found herself saying again, as they let go. "I – how did you even think of that?" His eyes fell to his shoes.

"I thought that privacy was sorely lacking in this castle," he said. "Sometimes, conversations need to be between two people." She could attest to the fact that Hogwarts sometimes felt like a smaller world than Cokeworth, though it probably had just as many, if not more, people. But part o her wondered – only for a moment – why Sev, when thinking about spells that would benefit her (or them, their friendship), immediately devised one that would allow their interactions to be more secret.

But that was stupid. She was being ungrateful.

"One day," she said, tucking stray strands of red hair behind her ears, "my kids are going to be learning about all the things you've come up with in class, all these spells and potions, and I'll be telling them, 'you'll never believe it, but I knew him before he did all those things! Really! Yes, me, your daggy old mum!'" Lily laughed.

"They'll believe you," Severus said, very quietly but very intensely. "I won't ever be out of your life, Lily." She nudged him playfully.

"Of course not," she said. "You'll be Uncle Sev. Coming round to make sure they know they know what happens when they add their powdered root of asphodel to their infusion of wormwood."

"Draught of Living Death," Severus said at once, face flickering.

"They'll get a hundred-and-ten percent on their first Potions exam," Lily teased. Severus shook his head.

"Only because of you. They'll inherit their mother's brains."

"I hope not. It can be a bit scattered."

"Never." He stared into her eyes. She smiled at him. Something seemed to crackle, and she felt strange inside. Anxious. Why? She looked away.

"You're too nice to me," she said, grazing her teeth against her lower lip. The door at the end of the corridor opened. Severus visibly tensed. It only admitted a gaggle of third-year Hufflepuffs. But Gryffindors and Ravenclaws from their own year would be coming soon, for this was one of the quickest ways to Transfiguration. She'd have to catch Mary and Marlene. Mary.

"I should -" Severus started.

"Wait," she said. He stopped, fingers curled around the strap of his bookbag. "Sorry. Sev, I'm sorry, I just have to ask – you haven't heard…anything, about – what happened to Mary, have you? Nobody's talked about it…said anything?" His face hardened. Her heart sank.

"I had nothing to do with it," he said briskly. "Lily, why don't you trust me?"

"No, I do, I do," she assured him quickly. "I was just…not you, not any of your friends, I know they wouldn't, but -"

"It could've been a Ravenclaw," Severus snapped. "Or a Gryffindor. Wouldn't Potter and Black do that for a laugh?"

"No." She said it without thinking, on instinct, really. But they wouldn't. You only had to listen to them in certain defence lessons, or after reading the paper, to know that they hated dark magic. If they'd been the ones to jump on Mary, she would've had a flower for a head and honking shoes, not scars across her face and a bed in the Spell Damage ward. "It wasn't a laugh, it wasn't a prank, Sev, it was – it was awful. Somebody attacked her."

"I didn't say it was a laugh," he said. "Nobody's talked about it. I have to go to Charms. Happy birthday, Lily." He took off before she could say another word, and she was left opening and closing her mouth like a stunned fish.

She reconvened with Mary and Marlene in the Middle Courtyard, and they went to Transfiguration. The first half of the lesson was theoretical, and then they were asked to break into pairs for the practical section. Marlene opened her mouth, but before she could get a word out, Glen Vane appeared at their desks, smiling.

"Excuse me," he said politely. His black robes opened revealing the blue trim of his school jumper, which brought out the colour of his eyes.

"Hi, Glen," Lily said, already guessing what he was there for.

"Lily," he said warmly. "McKinnon, Macdonald. Lily – I was wondering if you had a partner? For this," he clarified. Lily exchanged a look with Marlene, who pulled a face and made a shooing motion. Lily turned back to him.

"No," she said. "I'd love to work with you." He beamed, showing off a very pearly smile.

"Oh!" he said. "Well – fantastic. Do you want me to move up here, or -?"

"Oh, don't worry, I'll move to you," she said. She scooped her things into her bag and followed him over to his desk, where, conveniently, there was a free one beside him. She slipped into it.

"Thank you," he said, and she wasn't sure if he was referring to agreeing to partner with him, or moving over. "And happy birthday, by the way. Happy sixteenth. I'm looking forward to tonight."

"No problems," she said, getting out her wand. "And thank you. I think Marlene's more excited for tonight than I am, but it'll be nice to see everyone," Lily laughed, glancing at her friends. Glen chuckled pleasantly. "So, turning lovebirds into love notes. I haven't done this before." McGonagall levitated a cage full of tiny, brightly coloured birds, and began distributing them.

"Neither have I," Glen admitted. "I must say, it makes me wonder if McGonagall is a romantic at heart. Considering Valentine's Day is only two weeks away. More or less."

"You're keeping track," Lily teased. "Is there someone you're hoping to spend the day with? We have a Hogsmeade visit then, don't we?"

"We do," Glen said. McGonagall gave Mary and Marlene their bird. "And perhaps, yes, there's someone I want to take."

"Well, good luck," Lily said, as McGonagall approached Diggory and Lewis. Then McGonagall came to them. Lily carefully cupped the bird in her hands. "Ooh, it's a sweet little bird, isn't it?"

"It is," Glen agreed. "I'm certain it will make a very sweet note."

They took it in turns to attempt to transfigure the bird – it wasn't as easy as McGonagall made it look. They managed to turn the bird's feathers to parchment several times, but got no further. Infuriatingly, after ten minutes, James Potter jumped onto his chair, a small pink square of parchment in his hand.

"To my darling!" he cried out. Glen's expression turned very sour. Lily rested her chin in her hand, watching. "For too long we have been separated. I think of you with every breath, with every touch, late at night when I'm alone in my bed, when my thighs -" Lily pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Professor McGonagall coughed loudly.

"That's enough, Mr Potter," she said. "Take five points for being the first to get it. Keep in mind that if this spell were to be on your O.W.L exam, it would be read by the invigilators."

"He's such an idiot," Glen grumbled, shooting the back of James' head a disapproving look.

"Yes, that's the general consensus," Lily said, watching as James climbed down, saying something that made his friends laugh.

Lily and Glen both managed to have their bird made of parchment with writing on it by the end of the lesson, but neither had completely succeeded in the transfiguration. Nobody had but Potter, whose notes grew bawdier each time. McGonagall advised them to go over the theory on the weekend; they would continue their efforts on Monday morning.

"I wanted to talk to you, actually," he said, catching her arm as she packed up. She stopped, looking at him. "I've heard about your fundraiser. It sounds exciting."

"Well," Lily said, "we couldn't let the Ravenclaws outdo us."

"We'll see. But a dance – it's very creative. Who are you going with, then?" He didn't look at her now, focusing on putting his books into his bag. Lily paused. Nobody had asked her, yet. Honestly, she didn't have anyone particular in mind. It was more about having a fun time than fulfilling any specific romantic fantasy.

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "I think I'll have to ask Marlene. The boys are a bit scared of her." Glen hesitated a moment, mouth open, and then he laughed. He did have a nice laugh, but Lily thought it was a bit too perfect. Like he was out of some film. His teeth were too even.

"I haven't got a partner yet either," Glen said, buttoning up his satchel and standing up. Lily continued packing up, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He took a loud, deep breath. She stowed her wand away as she too stood.

"Lily," he said, loudly. She finally looked up at him properly, hands softly falling still on top of her bag.

"Glen," she said, smiling crookedly. He looked down, and then back at her.

"I'd like to go to the dance with you," he said, finally. "Would you like to come with me?" She was taken by surprise, but only a little. She exhaled nervously, half-laughing, and then she shrugged, settling into a smile.

"Yeah, alright," she said. "Sure. Yes. I'll come. I'll go with you." His face lit up.

"Oh – fantastic! Excellent! I'm – I'm looking forward to it," Glen babbled. Lily laughed again, at seeing him come a little undone.

"Me too," she said. "Er – I should catch up with Mary and Marlene. I'll see you tonight?"

"Yes, yes, I'll see you tonight." Lily waved goodbye and hurried over to her friends. They crossed the chilly courtyard together, Marlene smirking.

"And then he'll ask you to Hogsmeade too, I bet," she said. "And then you'll go to one of those Slug Club things together, and then – well, Mary, we'll be playing second fiddle."

"That's rubbish," Lily scolded. "I'm not interested in Glen. He's my friend."

"Have you told him that?" Marlene asked. Lily brushed her off. It was true: she wasn't interested in Glen. At the moment, actually, she wasn't interested in anyone. She'd never been the type to constantly have a crush. Not on real people, anyways – there were a couple of celebrities, though…Peter Brady…

The girls headed to Potions. Slughorn allowed them to pick their own twos and threes, and in the interests of making up for earlier, she looked for Severus. But he was already giving Avery and Rosier instructions. Mary asked her a question and she turned away, back to her friends. Next came Care of Magical Creatures, where they were grouped five to a porlock. Lily and Marlene stuck together, of course, but then James Potter swaggered their way.

"What do you say?" he offered, spreading his hands wide. Lily looked over his shoulder.

"You can join us, Remus," she said. Remus smiled cheekily at her.

"Oh, come on, Evans," James said, stepping around her to get to the porlock. She rolled her eyes. Sirius joined him, and Remus followed.

"Happy birthday, Lily," he said quietly.

"Thanks very much," she said. James whipped around so quickly his glasses nearly fell off. He looked ridiculous.

"It's your birthday!" he exclaimed.

"I'm aware," she replied.

"Well, happy birthday!" he said loudly, and Sirius joined in. "Nice. Alright, hang on, stand here."

"What?"

"We have to sing to you. It's your birthday. It's the law."

"Oh, God, no -" Marlene grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her onto the spot James indicated, next to the porlock. She clasped her hands together beneath her chin, shaking her head. "Don't."

James and Sirius exchanged wicked grins. "Happy birthday TO YOU -!"

Half the class had joined in by the time it finished, and Lily felt her face heat up. Marlene threw an arm around her shoulders, cracking up laughing, and Lily gave her a little shove. Professor Kettleburn called for them to get back to work. Lily tried to approach the porlock, but it scampered down, hiding behind the tree stump.

"So, Evans, what are you doing for your birthday? Nice hair, by the way" said asked, leaning against the stump. The porlock scurried over to a bush. Lily huffed and followed it.

"She's having a party," Marlene answered for her. "After dinner. In a classroom near the boys' bathroom on the sixth floor. Bring a drink."

"Oh, Marlene," Lily groaned. She grabbed the bag of feed they'd been provided with and shook it, slowly approaching the porlock. "Come out, come out."

"I don't think it speaks English," Sirius frowned, popping up next to her.

"Alright, speak porlock to it, then," she said shortly.

"We'll come," James said eagerly. "We'll be there. Anything for Evans' birthday."

"Oh, golly gee, you're making my day," Lily said. James gave her two thumbs up.

Lunch followed Care of Magical Creatures, and saw a lot of her well-wishers coming forward. Alice thrust a box of chocolates into her hands from her and Frank.

"McGonagall's officially given her stamp of approval for the dance, by the way," Alice said. "I'm going to have a look at what decorations we can order in. Are you any good with the Doubling Charm? Our budget is tiny." Lily thanked her for the present and promised to brush up on her duplication skills, and Alice hurried away. Mary joined them at the table, and then Marlene left for class. After some deliberation, Lily and Mary decided to go up to their dormitory. Lily went into the loo and groaned. The glitter was still in her hair. Bloody hell.

She returned to her bed, slumping on it. Mary lay flat on her back on her own bed, with Berlioz standing on her chest, furiously kneading her stomach.

"You should open your presents," Mary advised, scratching the cat behind the ears. "I don't think you'll really get a chance after this." Lily flopped over to the three packages.

"Alright," she decided, picking up the one from her parents. "You're probably right." She tore through the paper and found that her family had given her a silver necklace, with a flower pendant at the end. It was very nice, and it looked expensive; she bit her lip. They don't have that to waste on me, she thought. Maybe Petunia had contributed.

"Can you do it up for me, Mary?" she asked. Mary gently lifted Berlioz and set him down on the bed, before crossing the room to do the clasp. She and Lily went to the mirror in the bathroom, where Lily examined it.

"That's so pretty," Mary said. "It looks a bit like a Lily, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Lily smiled, fingering it lovingly. "It does."

Mary followed her back into the dormitory, where Lily picked up Mary's present.

"Thank you," she said.

"You don't even know what it is yet," Mary said, turning pink. "You might not like it."

"I won't like it," Lily assured her, pulling at the paper. "I'll love it." The torn paper revealed a shoebox. Mary sucked in her breath. Lily took the lid off. Pink crepe paper stuffed the box; amongst it was a bottle of butterbeer, two glittery candles, a large-plumed quill, a stash of chocolate frogs, colour-change ink, a tube of lipstick.

"I'm sorry," Mary said. "I couldn't think what to get you – none of it was very expensive."

"Mary!" Lily put the box on her bed and pulled her friend into a tight hug. Mary squeezed her back. She was so thin, Lily thought. Skin and bones. Lily frowned, but replaced the look of concern with one of elation when Mary stepped back. "I love it, oh, thank you, thank you!"

"I forgot the card!" Mary cried. She dashed off to her bedside table and pulled a spangled card out of the top drawer. Lily thanked her and read it. It warmed her to the core.

"You're so sweet, Mare," she gushed, putting the card on her own bedside table, in a place of pride. "I love you."

"I love you too," Mary said. "Happy birthday, Lily."

"I might leave Marlene's present until she's around," Lily decided, patting the gift that she was fairly certain she'd figured out. Only the exact specifications were unknown. Mary nodded.

"Okay, I think she'd like that."

Mary took a stab at their Potions homework, and Lily took out her new quill and some plain ink and a blank piece of parchment. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. She knew who she wanted to write to, but she didn't know exactly what to say. It was easier in person. And surely she'd find it strange that Lily wrote with parchment; that Lily instructed her to pass the letter on to her parents rather than give her the address. But it had been bouncing around her mind too much lately; she hoped the letter would calm her down, somehow.

'Dear Sue,

I thought I'd write to you, I miss you a fair bit. There's no phone here – it's a bit old-fashioned. Boarding school, you know. But how are you going with everything? What have I missed? Are you well? I think of you all the time, you know. I imagine it's much warmer down there than it is here'

Lily swore softly and crossed that bit out. She wasn't supposed to be at boarding school in Scotland.

'I imagine it's much colder up there than it is here. Still, the buildings are so old that it always feels freezing. There's a fire in the common room but not in the dormitories, so I bundle up at night.' That was partially true. Warming charms had a way of helping things along. 'My friend Marlene is throwing me a party tonight for my birthday, I really hope we don't have caught. I'm a prefect so it wouldn't look very good. Also, me and some of the other prefects are putting on a dance as a bit of a fundraiser, and today a boy asked me to go with him. His name's Glen. I think I told you we went out for a little bit in second year? He's very nice and very smart, he's also a prefect, but he looks a bit too perfect, if you know what I mean. I'm not really sure if I like him in that way, but it'll be fun to go to the dance together.' Was it insensitive to write about Glen, considering what had happened between Sue and Little Rod? No, she didn't think Sue would begrudge her that. She paused, thinking through her next few sentences. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, opened them, and took the plunge. 'How's Jane?' Tell her I'm thinking of her? No. Jane wouldn't want to hear about Lily at all. 'I worry about her. I hope she's okay. And I really do hope you're okay too. I don't know what I can do, but if you want to talk – I mean, write – I'm here for you. I'm not sure if I'll come home for Easter yet but I'll definitely be home for the summer.'

Was that alright? Lily read through it again. She almost asked Mary for her opinion, but she stopped herself. She hadn't explained what was happening with Sue; she didn't really talk about Cokeworth at all. The only person she'd told was James Potter.

That was weird.

Sighing, she dashed off the last part. 'I miss you lots. If you want to write back, just give the letter to my mum, the school's really weird about the post. All my love, Lily.'

She found an envelope and addressed it to her mother, enclosing a note to tell her that it was for Sue. She figured her mum could just slip it through the mail slot on her way past. She sealed it and sat it on her bedside table next to Mary's card, to post when she next had the chance.

After that, she and Mary met up with Marlene and headed to Defence, which was fine, and then Herbology, where refreshingly, nobody got into a fight. Sirius ended up having to work with Professor Sprout to be monitored, so Lily partnered Remus. Neither of them excelled in the subject, but they did fairly well. James once again promised to be at Lily's party (Lily grimaced and Marlene laughed), and then the girls headed up to their dormitory to clean up. Lily again got the privilege of showering first, and she did her make-up while the other two took their turns.

"Alright, Lily," Marlene said, finishing off her eyeliner. They were all dressed well enough that any teacher with half a brain could probably figure out they were going to a party that evening. Fortunately, everyone tended to dress up on Friday nights, so they couldn't be singled out too much. Alisha bundled up a very sparkly dress and hurried into the bathroom next. Amy carefully charmed her hair, feathering it. Lily eyed her. No mention had been made of her apparently-exclusive quidditch training session, or anywhere else she might've been that morning. It bothered Lily more than she cared to admit, though she couldn't say why. '"Do you just like getting into people's business?"' Lily frowned crossly. Marlene continued on. "Where are you going to until dinner?" Lily stretched her arms out wide, one hand curling around her bedpost.

"I don't know," she confessed. "I want to get right into the having-fun mode, but I think that homework Professor Forcier set us died, because it's haunting me."

Marlene turned around brightly. She'd opted for her usual mix of magical and muggle fashion: bell-bottom jeans, an orange halter top, and oversized, fur-trimmed brown robes fitted to her only by a brown sash, revealing most of her outfit underneath. Marlene's fringe licked at her eyebrows, and her hair fell straight to her shoulders.

"You know, I think you should do that homework," Marlene said. Lily cocked her head to one side.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?"

"You go to the library," Marlene said, as if sounding it out, "and we'll come get you for dinner." Lily sat up straighter.

"It's not a surprise party, I already know about it!" she protested. "I want to approve the decorations."

"Well, we don't always get what we want. I like them, and Mary likes them, and you're about halfway between us in terms of style, so there you are, it'll be fine," Marlene said. "A bit of a birthday surprise is exciting. You'll love it!"

"Will I now?"

"Go to the library, you nerd. I know you want to."

With only mild complaining, Lily relented, grabbing what she needed for Defence and heading down to the fourth floor. She felt slightly odd settling down at a table with a face full of make-up in full muggle attire, given that pretty much everyone else had come directly from class, but she tried to channel some of James Potter's boundless confidence (not that she would ever tell him that) and get on with it. Contrary to everything she'd ever been told, it was possible to study in a plaid miniskirt and tight green skivvy. Cold, in the library's incessant draughts, but possible. She was thankful for the knee-high socks.

She finished before they came to get her, so she packed her things away and wandered the aisles, pulling out books at random and flicking through them. There had to be twenty-thousand books at least, she thought. Lily wondered if anyone had ever read every single book in the school library. Was it even physically possible? Maybe Dumbledore had done it. Or some very studious Ravenclaw. For a moment, she sort of regretted only having one life. What kind of life would it be to be the person who read every book in the Hogwarts library? It was too late for her to start that life now. That opportunity had slipped by without her even realising it. She brushed her fingers along the ancient spines, making trails in the dust. There were so many girls she considered being, and yet really, she'd never get to be any of them, because one sort of girl didn't want to be like another. She just had to be Lily. She was only sixteen, she thought; in the big scheme of things, she was still very new to being Lily. Probably only a quarter of the way through her life, at worst – some wizards lived to be well over a hundred. Would she get better at being Lily? Would she ever wake up one day and think, I know exactly who I am. At ten, she'd assumed she'd have it figured out by sixteen. In her first year, fifth-years had seemed terribly old, practically adults. She did feel older than she had by eleven, but she didn't feel as if she'd really be ending her time at Hogwarts in two-and-a-half years. She couldn't believe five years ago, she had actually been eleven; who would she be in another five years? Living in some dodgy flat, she thought. Still fighting Marlene for the first shower. At least by then, she'd finally be free of James and Sirius.

Lily rounded a corner and nearly jumped out of her skin. Marlene came round the corner at the same time, and threw herself into Lily. They swung around in a clumsy hug.

"Found you," Marlene grinned. "What happened to your homework?"

"I finished it," Lily said. Marlene shook her head.

"Nerd. Come on, we'll take your stuff up then go down to eat." She shimmied her shoulders, and Lily laughed. "You wait 'til you see what we've done for you!"

Lily dropped her Defence things on her bed, where they collected Mary, and the three of them made it down to dinner on time. The food was delicious; Marlene made a big fuss of filling her plate so she could better hold her liquor.

"I'm not drinking," Lily reminded her.

"You're mad," Marlene said. "Honestly, it's not like you're going to get into trouble, everyone does it."

"It's not about the trouble," Lily insisted. "I just don't want to do everything I can do at seventeen before then. Otherwise, what's the big deal on the day? You're the one who's been going on about birthday surprises."

"The big deal is that you can do it legally," Marlene insisted. "You don't have to sneak around."

"It'll be the end of January, we'll still be at school! We'll be sneaking around all the same."

"Well, Lily, if you want to spend your sixteenth sober, on your own head be it."

Pudding followed dinner and then Marlene took her by the stairs and dragged her out, as soon as they were dismissed.

"You can't have everyone show up and not be there!" Marlene reminded her, as they puffed hard coming up another flight of stairs. "We need the music on, we need to light the candles – shit! Mary, did we get the extra -?"

"I think so, I think so!" Mary squeaked. Lily regretted agreeing to have the party on the sixth floor. At least it was very unlikely that anyone would beat them there. She couldn't see anyone else running up the stairs. They took the Grand Staircase up for most of it, given that the end-of-meal traffic was only beginning to clog the steps. They were only delayed by an unfortunate rotation of the stairs once. All in all, Lily thought they had pretty good luck.

They came to the last corridor, and Marlene skidded around in front of her.

"Alright," she said. "Stop here, stop here."

"What's wrong?" Lily frowned. Mary kept smiling. It couldn't be anything too bad, then. Lily raised one eyebrow at them. "What are you doing?" she asked slowly.

"Shut your eyes," Marlene said cheerfully. Lily stared at her for a moment.

"No."

"Lily!"

"Nope. You can't make me."

"What's gotten into you? Come on!"

"No," Lily reiterated, fighting a smile. "Look, Marlene -"

"What's wrong?"

"Marlene – it's just that…" Lily sighed, rubbing her temple. "Look - the last one there is a rotten flobberworm."

"Wait. What? What? Lily, you bitch!" Lily took off down the hall as fast as she could – admittedly hobbled by the heels on her shoes.

"Lily!" Mary shrieked.

"LILY, YOU BITCH, I HATE YOU! OI!" She couldn't look back. If she did, she knew Marlene would catch up, given that she actually did a sport and spent far too much time running laps around the quidditch pitch. Lily barely pulled up before the door arrived, marked with a red ribbon around the handle. She tugged at it. Nothing. Feet slammed against the floor. Lily whipped her wand out.

"Alohomora." It clicked and swung open. Lily dived inside, and Marlene crashed into the back of her. "Ow!"

"Wait," Mary gasped, joining them.

Lily steadied herself, taking deep, cool breaths. Then she stood, and realised just what her friends had done with her. A large, multi-coloured banner read 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' and hung above a large table stuffed with food and drinks, including a white box that looked suspiciously like something that might hold cake. Candles bedecked every surface, lighting the room in gold, but a shiny round ball hung in the centre of the disused classroom, reflecting the light. Towers of dusty chairs loomed in one corner, but yellow streamers wrapped around them, almost lending them a cheerful quality. Garlands of shiny paper stars hung from the ceiling on thin strings. Marlene jabbed a finger at them.

"I meant to make them levitate," she explained. "But I couldn't get it. So I kept the string on them and just used a sticking charm to keep it on the roof." Lily's hand went to her hair, where glitter probably still made a home.

"We're going to be here in seventh year and they'll still be here," Lily told her.

"There are worse legacies to have." Marlene started over to the table. "We need to put some music on! Come pick, before people get here!" Lily hurried over. The table was actually made of six desks pushed together to create a long rectangular shape. Two desks held an extraordinary amount of butterbeer and two bottles of firewhisky, as well as paper cups. Lily bit her lip.

"How'd you pay for all this?" she asked. "I'll pay you back." Marlene grabbed a packet of crisps from the next two desks, where they'd laid out a selection of snacks.

"It's my present to you. The record was second-hand." Lily put her hands on her hips.

"Marlene! You two are spoiling me, you are. What am I meant to do for your birthday?"

"Get the captain of the English Quidditch Team in, obviously," Marlene said. "Quick, quick, before people get here."

Marlene had apparently lugged her entire record collection down, in two large crates, as well as all the records belonging to the other girls in the dormitory (which made sense, as Marlene was the only one with a record player). Lily hummed, rifling through them.

"What about the Hobgoblins?" she said. "Most people like them. If we put on muggle music this early, the purebloods will find it weird, and if we put on Miriam Wakefield, they'll leave. But," Lily continued, "we're playing Miriam at some point in the night. Okay?"

"Alright," Marlene agreed. "But you have to remember, because I'm hoping that by eight-thirty, my memory will have gone out the window."

"Making me do work on my own birthday," Lily said, as if it were something shameful. Marlene poked her tongue out. Lily chose the newest of their albums, 'We Are The Bludger Up Your Buttocks', wincing a bit at the crude cover. But everyone was bound to love it. She put it on the turntable and lowered the needle. It crackled, then the first track, 'Numb Bum Butterbeer' started.

The girls scooped up drinks – Lily a butterbeer, Mary a pumpkin-flavoured Elfwine Kiss, and Marlene a cup of firewhisky.

"Cheers, girls," Marlene said, raising her cup. "Happy birthday, Lily!"

"Happy birthday, Lily!"

"Happy birthday, me!"

The door opened, and a round-faced Hufflepuff – Matilda Mortensen, the girl Sirius had a row with in Herbology – poked her head inside.

"This is it?" she asked, stepping inside. Behind her trailed a group of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. They were all nice girls, though Lily didn't know them too well.

"This is it!" she said. One of them – Clarke - carried a large bag that clinked as she walked. "Erm, thank you for coming!"

"This is cool!" a curly-haired girl exclaimed.

"Is that the Hobgoblins?" Mortensen asked, eyes widening. "I love the Hobgoblins."

Lily, silently, felt very proud of her music choice.

Marcus McLaggen came in next, to Lily's great surprise. He hung around for all of five minutes, pressing a neatly wrapped gift into her hands.

"Happy birthday, Lily," he told her quietly, gold eyes luminous. "It's been lovely having you as part of the prefect team. I hope you have an excellent party."

"You're not staying?" Lily asked. He shook his head.

"I don't enjoy parties," he said simply. She thanked him and saw him to the door, before tucking the present away in the crate of records. She hadn't expected anyone else to bring a gift; she felt guilty. She ought to have offered him a biscuit or something. It was too late now. Marcus was a nice sort, she thought, even if people thought he was a bit strict. It was a real shame he had to leave.

Half an hour in, a verifiable crowd formed. The Hufflepuff girls brought with them a card game, and Marlene, Mortensen, Clarke, Nicholson, and Greengrass pulled out chairs and sat in a circle, easing themselves into drunkenness. A group of pokey Ravenclaw boys stood in the corner – not Glen and his friends – clutching untouched cups of firewhisky and staring out at the world. Marcus' little sister, Livia, had brought several of her fourth-year friends, and they jumped around the dance floor, shouting all the lyrics to every song that played. Part of Lily worried that Filch would catch them before it even really kicked off, with the amount of noise they were making. If only…

Oh, Sev. He was a genius. She pulled out her wand and went to the door, thinking hard on what he'd shown her. Please work, she thought. Lily concentrated on the group inside, on the noise she wanted to mask, and moved her wand.

"Muffliato."

Something seemed to change, but she could've been imagining it. She'd have to ask the next group to come in if they could hear the party outside.

The next lot inside consisted of the remainder of the Ravenclaws from her year. Glen dressed very well in crisp, baby-blue robes, with an ascot tied around his neck. Florence Diggory came in flowing, embroidered robes of midnight, and Cynthia Lewis wore a tiny, shimmering dress. Then there was Dorcas Meadowes, the other Ravenclaw prefect, a dark-skinned, very plump girl whom Lily had barely heard of before she was given the badge. Others joined them – Glen's gaggle of friends – and they proceeded through the door as if they had practised.

"Glen!" she exclaimed. He broke from the processional, beaming at her. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for inviting me," he said earnestly. "Wow, this looks good. Can I hear the Hobgoblins?"

"Yes."

"Very nice. Though I'll admit, I found their latest album cover…very interesting. A bold choice."

"I think it's gross," Lily confessed. Glen laughed.

"Honestly, me too." They started towards the table. Their arms brushed each other as they walked. He was really nice, she thought. Good-looking, intelligent, funny at times. But she got no butterflies. What was with that? She'd liked him once, after all, couldn't she manage it again?

"Hey, could you hear anything outside?" she asked. "Was it too loud?" Glen poured himself a cup of firewhisky, thoughts running across his chiselled face.

"Actually, no," he said, setting the dwindling bottle of alcohol back down. "Have you got a sound-proofing charm that really works?" Lily thought a moment, and then fingered her wand, re-casting the spell to include the new arrivals. Just in case. She'd have to ask Sev how it worked, whenever he turned up. He'd said he'd come when Marlene had sprung the invitation on him the afternoon before. It surprised Lily that he hadn't yet made an appearance; she'd thought he'd want to avoid the crowds as much as possible.

"Maybe," she said. He sighed.

"What I'd give for that." Lily knew she could've told him then, but she chose not to. It was a gift from Sev to her. She wanted it to be just theirs, just for now.

Glen hung round, but eventually she gave him the slip for Mary, who was on her third drink and huddled in the corner. Lily leaned against the wall, nursing her second butterbeer.

"How are you doing?" Lily asked her. "You don't have to drink, you know. If it makes you more anxious or something." She lifted her bottle of butterbeer. "I'm not."

"No, it's okay," Mary said. "It's just – Marlene's with those girls from Hufflepuff, and Glen's been with you, and I don't know what to say to him…Not that he's bad or anything, I don't mean that, it's just – I just – I don't know, I'm sorry, it's stupid, I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid," Lily told her firmly, resting a hand on her shoulder. "You know what, why don't we do cake now? If we wait any longer, everyone will be sloshed. Can you help me? Please?" Mary gave a tiny nod.

"Okay."

Alisha and Amy arrived as Lily and Mary made for the table, followed shortly by two Slytherins – Maccioni and Padgett, not any of Sev's friends, Lily noted. Not that Sev's friends had been invited, only him. She'd considered extending Avery and Rosier invitations, but honestly, it curdled her stomach. She didn't want them near Mary. Honestly, she didn't want them near herself. They were creeps, or came across that way, and she couldn't understand why Sev chose to hang out with them over nicer guys like Maccioni and Padgett. They were only accused of that purist sort of thing when all the Slytherins were lumped together, never on their own. She'd never heard of them attacking anyone. She tried to focus on the cake, but then the older students poured in. Laura Vickers with the sixth-year girls, a rowdy group of older Ravenclaw boys, Alice and Frank, waving at her and dancing as they entered, and Ludovic Bagman and Connor O'Neill, whom Lily was certain she did not invite. O'Neill reached up under his robes and pulled out two large, unlabelled glass bottles.

"FREE BEER!" he shouted. Most of the older students knew better, but the Hufflepuffs and the fourth-years scrambled. Lily cringed.

"Come on," she said quickly to Mary. "We're fighting a losing battle." They opened the box to find a delicious lemon cheesecake, topped with swirly writing that said, 'Happy 16th Birthday, Lily!'. "I love you guys," Lily whispered. Mary's face split in two with a wide smile.

"I'm glad you like it," she whispered back. "I'll get the candles."

"I'll get the candles." Lily cast a spell to amplify her voice, praying that it wouldn't break the soundproofing charm Severus gave her. But if he was as smart as she thought he was, he would've accounted for that. Where was he? She hated to do cake without him. "CAKE! CAKE TIME! FREE CAKE!"

That got their attention. A group of almost fifty surrounded the table. Lily swallowed, looking down at the cake, that for three people seemed quite large but for fifty more on the measly side. Mary pushed the candles in and Marlene ambled over, lighting them. How had Lily ended up with fifty people at her birthday party? Even doubled, it wouldn't match the likes of James and Sirius' parties, where pretty much every student fourth year and above showed their face, but it was rather bigger than her fifteenth birthday's turnout all the same. Any more people, and the classroom was going to get very squishy indeed. Actually, where were James and Sirius? For O'Neill and Bagman to show up, there clearly wasn't anything better on. Not that she cared about their absence, but all the same, she wouldn't have minded if Remus and Peter came along.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!" The door swung open. Lily looked over the heads of the crowd. Sitting on James Potter's shoulders was Sirius Black, both of them flushed with matching beetroot cheeks, Remus flanking their left and Peter their right, carrying several bottles in their arms. The four of them sang loudly. Quickly, the rest of the crowd joined in.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR EV-AAANS! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!" Lily sucked in her breath, beaming, and blew out all the candles on her first try. The crowd cheered. The boys pushed to the front, Sirius wobbling precariously.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY EVANS!" James screamed, just as everyone fell silent. His glasses fell off. The song faded out. Lily felt the crowd's gaze turn to her. She took a very measured breath.

"Thank you, Potter," she said evenly. He squinted at her. Why was everyone staring?

"I was walking by the Quidditch pitch smoking a cigarette! Thought about last night and the things I do regret!"

Lily turned her head. The last song on the Hobgoblins' newest album began to play, Stubby Boardman's voice and an electric guitar breaking into the silence.

"Why'd I waste my time on this blonde sort of bird? When the girl I love I keep managing to hurt?" James Potter drunkenly began to sing. Lily's head whipped back around. He shut his eyes, shaking his body to the music. Atop him, Sirius took up air guitar. Marlene handed Lily a knife. She cut into the cake.

"Tell me! Tell me, please!" More voices joined up. Lily cut again, creating the tiniest sliver of cheesecake. It wouldn't have fed a baby, but it would have to do. Mary offered her a paper plate, and she carefully moved the piece onto it.

"Why is my heart speaking Goblinese?!" they shouted.

"Did you know, they don't actually call the goblins' language Goblinese?" Lily jumped. Dirk Cresswell appeared next to Marlene, smiling pleasantly.

"Oh, no," Lily said. "I mean, yes – it's Gobbledegook, isn't it?" Dirk took the first slice of cake.

"Yup, that's it."

"WHERE HAVE ALL THE GOOD CHASERS GONE? WHY AM I SHOOTING THROUGH THE WRONG HOOPS?" Lily cut faster into the cake, offloading pieces as soon as possible. Most of the crowd had linked arms and swayed against each other, in time, back and forth, like a crowd of football hooligans. Sirius frantically strummed his air guitar, throwing his hand up and down. "WHERE HAVE ALL THE GOOD CHASERS GONE? I'M FALLING OUT MY LOOP-DE-LOOP!" Cut, cut, cut. She was halfway through the cake and maybe a quarter of the way through the crowd. She winced. "LOOKING FOR THE SNITCH! LOOKING FOR THE SNITCH!" Sirius tried to stand, and instead, he tumbled backwards. People hollered. Four quidditch players caught him, and he staggered to his feet. "LOOKING FOR THE SNITCH, SNITCH, SNITCH, SNITCH, SNITCH!"

James Potter stumbled forward.

"Evans," he said. "Lily – Evans. You need – there's not…not enough." He pointed at the cake. Lily cut into it again.

"I didn't notice, thank you for sharing your uniquely special observation skills with us."

"You're wel – come," he hiccupped. She rolled her eyes. "You needa duplio…geminio…spell it." Lily had not yet had the opportunity to work on her Doubling Charm as she had promised Alice.

"Well-"

"FILCH! FILCH!" Peter Pettigrew screamed.

"Fuck!" shouted James. Lily paled.

"LOOKING FOR THE SNITCH, SNITCH, SNITCH, SNITCH, SNITCH!"

"Turn it off!" she shouted, just in case. She hadn't added James and his friends to the spell yet – oh, fuck. The candles blazed brightly. People fell to the ground, ducking. Some crawled under the table. Marlene stopped the music. Lily climbed under her chair. Come on. Come on. Come on. All of them fell deadly silent. She crawled closer. Nobody's in here, she thought. Go on, Filch. Terrorise some first-years. She immediately felt guilty. No, terrorise…I don't know. She couldn't wish Filch on anyone.

The door handle twisted.

Fuck.

Lily whipped out her wand, pointing it at the door handle, and praying it worked at far-range.

"Colloportus!"

The handle twisted again. She held her breath. The door did not open. The handle twisted again, and again, almost furious. Bang! Bang! Bang! He knocked. Come on. They waited for a long, anxious minute. Then Lily stood, realising how futile it was to crouch down, given that the room didn't have any windows. She turned her attention to the table, and the record player. She swallowed. Then she lowered the needle to finish the end of the song.

"Where have all the good chasers go-o-one…?" It was still loud enough that anyone outside could hear. She waited for the knock, for the handle to rattle. She inhaled, watching the door. Please…

The knock did not come.

Filch was gone.

She exhaled in relief.

"We're good!" she announced. Cautiously, people stood, looking round. Lily quietly performed Sev's spell again. A thought struck her – it hadn't been Sev at the door, had it? Peter had said Filch…how had he known? He'd probably just assumed. Marlene switched out the Hobgoblins record for an older one, and people once more took up drinking and dancing. Lily wove through the crowd to the door, which she nervously opened.

Dale Roshfinger stood on the other side. Lily's face fell, and she quickly tried to conceal her disappointment.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey, Evans," he said dozily, blinking slow. "Be careful. Filch's on the prowl. Nearly got me." He seemed to think about this. He made claws from his hands. "Rah!"

"So Filch is about?" Lily asked. Dale nodded.

"Yeah, yeah…Oh! Happy birthday, man."

"Thank you!" She was so relieved that it had not been Severus they'd hidden from that she didn't interrogate him on the contents of the bookbag he brought with him, though she highly doubted he had brought along his homework.

From there, the night spiralled, as all Friday nights marked by birthdays amongst Hogwarts' older students seemed to do, out of anyone's grip. Lily relinquished control. She took another bottle of butterbeer and moved to the makeshift dance floor, which circled around the disco ball. Someone swapped out Marlene's Enchanted Zippers record for something more upbeat and rather less angry. Lily found Mary and the two of them swayed their hips together, lifting their hands above their heads and swaying around. Someone blew smoke at them; Lily fiercely slapped the air.

"No smoking!" she shouted, but she knew there was no real chance of that. It was more the principle of the thing. She took Mary's hand and twirled her. More people came through the door, until at every turn, Lily found herself facing a sea of shoulders. She pushed through and found Frank and Alice taking up far more space than their two-person quota. Frank spun Alice away from him, and she threw out one arm, both of them standing wide, holding hands. Then she spun back into him and he dipped her. His hands slipped. She grabbed him by the front of his muted orange robes and the two of them half-fell, Frank landing on his knees and Alice in his arms. Alice kissed him.

"Nice moves!" Lily called to them. They looked up, and Alice burst into giggles.

"You're too sweet!"

She pushed through the crowd with the aim of grabbing something to eat; by the snack table, she found Remus and Peter furiously chomping down bread rolls. She gave them a curious look. They looked like the ones from dinner.

"'Appee birfday," Remus wished her cheerfully.

"Hap – py birthday!" Peter managed, attempting to swallow the food in his mouth and choking.

"Thanks," Lily said. She took a handful of crisps and tried to wander back to Lily. It was then that a short blonde accosted her. Lily's eyes trailed upwards, and found a glasses-less James Potter standing there.

"Jamie and I," the girl – Lisbete Moult, Lily realised, as the face clicked into place – said, "wanted to wish you a really happy birthday. We really appreciate all the good things you prefects do."

"Thanks, Lisbete," Lily said sweetly. "I know how much Potter appreciates prefects. That's why he's so good at following rules and not making extra work for us." Lisbete gazed up at James as if he was the saviour of the wizarding world. Lily wondered how low James' self-esteem really was, if he had to date a younger girl who worshipped him to feel good about himself. She knew, thanks to James' frequent explanations, that the pair weren't actually that far apart in age, but she still thought it made him a loser.

"I know," Lisbete gushed. Lily smiled at her, raised her eyebrows at James as if to ask, 'are you an idiot?', and continued on her path.

Glen found her on the dance floor and took her by the hands. Lily employed all her stupidest dance moves, twisting and rolling her hands back and forth in circles, but Glen didn't seem to mind.

"How do you like sixteen?" he asked her. She smiled.

"It's good!" she said. "It's pretty good! I mean, our lessons weren't too hard, I've got all my friends here, cheesecake, Filch didn't catch us…what more could I want?"

"And you got asked to the dance," Glen added.

"That too," Lily agreed. "If the rest of sixteen is as good as today, I think I'll manage it."

"Glad to hear it." The chorus started, and Lily found herself in a clump of people, jumping up and down, hot and sweaty, half-laughing, shouting intelligibly. Just how it was meant to be. The only thing missing, she reflected, as she landed each time, was Severus Snape. He still had not come. Per the watch on Glen's wrist, it was quarter past eleven; she could not see Sev risking being caught after curfew when he could've come earlier and avoided such a thing.

He wasn't coming.

She hoped that wasn't indicative of the year to come.