Lily frowned at the potions book in front of her as she scratched occasional notes onto a sheet of parchment. She paused several times to re-read a section before giving a tiny shake of her head and moving on to the next page. Rain pattered against the windows, and rivulets of water and deep puddles covered the dark streets of Diagon Alley. A chilly breeze, heavy with rain, ruffled the pages of her book and raised goosebumps on her skin. Pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders, she turned a page and continued to read.
"What are you doing that for?" Mary asked, peering at Lily's potions book. "In case you've forgotten, you've already passed your Potions N.E.W.T. Come keep me company instead."
The faint sound of music and the scent of marijuana drifted from Mary's room, and Lily was tempted. The clouds obscured the full moon, but Lily sensed its presence, as palpable as James's absence. On nights like these, she and Mary were restless and uneasy, imagining all the things that could go wrong while the boys ran through the wild, dense forest beside the cottage Remus and Peter shared. She longed to sprawl out on Mary's bed, sharing a joint as they listened to the pattering rain mingling with Paul Simon or David Bowie. It helped, spending full moons with Mary when they both had the same fears and worries, when their hearts were both in the same far-flung corner of Wales.
She glanced at her parchment, guilt sitting heavy in her stomach. She had been working on this research for months, but all she had to show for it was a pile of disjointed, barely comprehensible notes. Who am I kidding, thinking I could figure out a cure for lycanthropy, when all sorts of smarter, more talented people have tried and failed? Sometimes she was tempted to throw her notes in the bin, yet she persevered anyway, because the little scraps of progress she had pieced together drove her on. It was like a puzzle, combining different ingredients in the right order to unlock their secret capabilities. With enough tinkering, enough patience, enough creativity, she could figure it out – she just had to keep trying.
"Come on," Mary urged. "What are you even doing?"
Lily rested her elbows on top of her notes and arranged her face into a neutral expression. "Just a bit of research. It would bore you to death."
"I don't know how it doesn't bore you to death," Mary said, shaking her head. "At least take a break. I already rolled a joint. It's sitting there waiting for us."
Lily raised her eyebrows. "You're already stoned off your arse."
Mary wrapped a curl around her finger and sighed. "Yeah, but I still don't feel relaxed. I had a look at the bloody Prophet this morning, which was a mistake, and usually Black distracts me when I'm like this, but he's off pissing in bushes or whatever he does during the full moon."
Remus's pale, drawn face filled her mind, intensifying her guilt, but as Lily looked at Mary's obvious worry, she sighed and set down her quill.
"I'll take a break," she said, vowing to return to the research once Mary was snoring softly under the duvet.
The rain picked up as they passed the joint back and forth; sheets of rain pounded the windows and soaked the streets outside. Lily leaned back against the headboard and draped the duvet over her legs, then frowned.
"Don't worry, the sheets are clean," Mary said, grinning at Lily's apprehension. "Well, clean-ish." She took one last hit and dropped the remnants of the joint into an ashtray on the bedside table.
"Lovely," Lily said, but she didn't remove the blanket.
Mary pulled the blanket over her own legs and moved her feet close to Lily's.
"Your feet are freezing," Lily complained, jerking her legs away.
"Black always complains about that," Mary said, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. "Grumpy arsehole."
She didn't speak for so long that Lily thought she had fallen asleep. When Mary broke the silence, her voice was just above a whisper.
"I'm worried about him." She opened her eyes and looked at Lily, twisting a curl around her finger. "He's on edge all the time. I want to help, but I don't know how."
Lily put her hand on Mary's arm. "Have you tried talking to him about it?"
May laughed – a dry, mirthless laugh. "You try that and tell me how it goes."
"Alright, that's fair." Lily rested her head on Mary's shoulder and sighed. "I'm worried about James, too. Actually, I'm worried about all of them, and I don't see that changing any time soon."
"Neither do I." Mary's breath stirred little tendrils of Lily's hair as she spoke. "I suppose we'll get through it together – or we won't."
Or we won't. The words rang in Lily's head long after Mary had fallen asleep.
The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle when Lily slid out of bed and tiptoed back out into the kitchen. She paged through her notes for a few minutes, then stood and crossed to the cauldron and small work table jammed in the corner beside the balcony. She settled on the rickety stool and selected her ingredients, then began to measure and chop. The process always soothed her, and the rain and marijuana added to her trancelike state. With slow, methodical movements, she added the ingredients to the cauldron and waited for it to boil, watching each bubble travel up from the bottom to burst on the surface. As each bubble rose, she felt calmer and more at ease – relaxed enough to sleep. But no, she couldn't sleep – this wasn't a familiar recipe she had followed dozens of times. This required her full attention as she studied the process, analyzed any tweaks necessary, documented her observations… Sighing, she rubbed her eyes and gave the potion a stir.
Lily woke to a gentle touch on her shoulder and the acrid scent of burnt potion. She blinked against the sunlight streaming through the sliding glass doors, then smiled as James leaned down to kiss her.
"Did you fall asleep brewing a potion?" James asked, examining the blackened remnants congealed on the bottom of the cauldron. "That's adorable. What a Lily Evans thing to do."
"Yeah, it'd be real adorable if you burnt down our flat," Sirius said, pulling open the doors to the balcony to air out the fumes. "You better be on your best behavior from now on, Evans, or you're going to have to move out."
She rolled her eyes and stood up, wincing at the stiffness in her neck after sleeping in such a strange position. "Oh, shut up. You know you love living with me."
"That's what you think," he said, grinning and wandering off to his bedroom.
James surveyed the bits of leaves and flowers littering the work table. "What were you trying to make?"
"Oh, just…" Lily made a vague sweep of her hand. "Experimenting." She hurried over to the kitchen table and swept her notes into a pile, tossing yesterday's Prophet on top and trying to ignore the headline about the body of the Muggle man discovered in front of the Ministry. "What time do you have to be at patrols?"
He glanced at the clock above her head. "Twenty minutes."
"Sit down and let me rub your shoulders for a bit. You must be knackered."
He sank down into the chair with a soft sigh, and she began kneading the knots from his shoulders.
"We ran all over that bloody forest," James said, closing his eyes as he relaxed into her touch. "We had to make it count, because I think Padfoot and I will be away on a mission next month."
Lily grimaced. "So he'll have to lock himself in the cellar."
James nodded. "It'll be rough, but he'll be alright."
Lily thought about Remus huddled in a damp, dark cellar as he waited for the transformation to begin, and she was so overcome with guilt that she couldn't move. Her fingers faltered on James's shoulders as her mind circled from Remus, to her pitiful research progress, to the murdered Muggle man and his family. The thoughts whirled in her head, huge and insurmountable, and she felt tears roll down her cheeks to splash onto James's neck and shoulders.
"Evs?" He turned to look at her, his wan face creased with concern. "What's wrong? He'll be okay, just a bit cut up."
"No, it's not that." She wiped her eyes and leaned against the table. "Well, it is, but also just, bloody everything." More tears leaked out, but she didn't bother wiping them away. Remus would have to spend the next full moon locked in the cellar because she couldn't even manage to stay awake to work on developing a cure. She and Marlene had been staking out the same spot for weeks, but they had nothing to show for it besides brief glimpses of Death Eaters going in and out. This will all be worth it in the end, she kept telling herself, but she couldn't ignore the creeping worry that none of this was getting them any closer to defeating Voldemort. The deaths kept piling up every time she picked up a newspaper, and all she did was lurk behind trees watching a damn building or fall asleep and fill the flat with smoke and the smell of scorched aconite. Nothing I'm doing is making one fucking bit of difference.
"Hey." James wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He smelled of sweat, and there were faint flecks of mud on his skin, but she clung to him, desperate for the comfort of his embrace. "It's okay."
"I just feel so useless," she said as her tears soaked his t-shirt. "I feel like the Order isn't getting anywhere, and more and more people are disappearing or dying, and the Ministry's gone to shit, and poor Remus is going to be all alone next month, and I'm just sitting on my arse doing nothing even remotely helpful."
James kissed the top of her head and ran his hand slowly up and down her back. "What do you mean you've been sitting on your arse? You've been following Dumbledore's orders just like all of us. I heard Moody complement your observation skills the other day, and he never compliments anyone. And there's nothing you can do about Remus being alone for the full moon – how can you hold yourself accountable for that?"
She lifted her head and looked at him through a veil of tears, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his earnest reassurances.
"I've been working on a cure," she murmured, nodding at the cauldron and untidy workstation across the room. "Or at least, I've been trying to for months, but I've gotten nowhere."
James's eyes widened. "You've been working on a cure? For Moony? Fuck, Evs, that's incredible. Why didn't you tell me?"
Her face crumpled when she saw the hope lighting up his face. "Because I didn't want to let you down if I failed, and I'm really no closer than when I started. Last night was the first time I've even touched my notes in weeks – I keep meaning to, but I've been so tired. And then when I do try to work on it, I can't focus, because I'm thinking about whatever Harold Minchum's been up to, or the latest missing person, or who's going to turn up dead next." She covered her face with her hands and shook her head. "I'm bloody useless."
"Evans." He gently pried her hands away, then traced his thumb along her jaw. "You can't fix everything all at once. I mean, you're brilliant, and you work harder than anyone I know, besides maybe Moony, but no one person can do all that. You can't hold yourself responsible for saving the world. You know that, right?"
She sighed. "I'm not trying to save the world, I'm just–"
"Trying to defeat Voldemort single-handedly, and find a cure for lycanthropy, and give me the world's best shoulder rub." He grinned and took her hands. "And look – you've already accomplished one thing on that list, and it's not even nine o'clock."
"That wasn't the world's best shoulder rub," she protested. "I can do better."
"Prove it." He sat down in the chair, then glanced at the clock and sprang up again, frowning. "Actually, no, I don't have time. But you can take a quick shower with me instead. I'm covered in mud, and you can wash the burnt potion smell out of your hair."
He twined a hand around her waist, his fingers lingering on the bare skin exposed by the gap between her shirt and trousers. A mischievous grin tugged at his lips, and she noticed a twig lodged in his hair, and he was so adorably eager that she didn't bother resisting. He led her to the bathroom, and as they enjoyed a few stolen minutes together, the hot water and steamy air and his soft, insistent touch washed her frustration away.
It was a gray, gloomy day as James filtered out of the Order meeting with his friends and the rest of the members. Sirius led the way, laughing at something Marlene had said as he lit a cigarette and offered one to Mary. Behind them, Remus and Peter spoke in low, tense voices with their heads close together. James and Lily followed, their hands clasped as they listened to Frank and Alice discussing an upcoming Auror party they planned to attend. Or, rather, Lily listened, while James let their voices wash over him as his mind wandered.
"We're getting drunk tonight," he announced once Frank and Alice had bid them goodbye. "Moony, Pete, plan on staying over, because you won't be able to Apparate, and I doubt you'll want to use Floo Powder after that much firewhisky."
"What's the occasion?" Remus asked, stepping backward to avoid the cloud of cigarette smoke hovering in the air.
James shrugged. "Since when do we need an occasion?"
The flat was dark and stuffy, but James opened the windows and sliding glass doors to let in the cool evening air while Mary turned on some music and Sirius nipped out for a takeaway. A few minutes later, light and the sound of a Queen record filled the living room as the six of them settled around the coffee table.
"I'll teach you a drinking game Dung taught me," Mary said, shuffling a deck of cards as Sirius set a glass in front of her. "Or I will if I can remember the rules."
"So, you and Dung are friends?" Peter asked, munching a handful of chips. He looked both alarmed and impressed.
"I dunno if friends is the right word…" Mary frowned down at the cards, then began dealing them out. "He sells me pot and tells excellent jokes."
"I think he's alright," Sirius said, examining his pile of cards and grinning when Mary slapped his hand away. "He smells a bit odd, but smoking masks the smell."
James ate a chip, then offered one to Lily. She took it, smiling, and settled closer to him on the sofa.
"Marlene told me he went to Azkaban for killing someone," she said, reaching for her glass. "Is that true?"
Mary laughed and almost dropped her cards. "What a load of rubbish. He'd still be in Azkaban if he killed someone. I think he did a couple months for, I dunno, selling stolen cauldrons or something. Anyway, listen and don't interrupt, because I don't want to have to repeat myself five times."
Sirius frowned. "Why're you looking at me when you say that? I always listen."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and Dung's an upstanding citizen who smells like roses. Right, so the first thing you're going to want to do is put your cards in order…"
James, it turned out, was very good at the game Mary insisted was called "Arseface." Lily lost the first round, partly due to bad luck and partly because she kept reaching for chips and missing opportunities to throw down her cards.
"Loser has to wear a funny hat," Mary said, sliding out from under Sirius's arm to look for something suitable. "Sorry, Lil, I don't make the rules. Ooh, this will work." She returned with Sirius's red cowboy hat and placed it on Lily's head with exaggerated reverence.
"That's not a funny hat," Sirius protested, tugging on one of Mary's curls. "That hat is excellent. You know what, you should take a drink for that unfair comment, Macdonald."
Lily lost the next round, and the next two after that. By the time the group threw down their cards and began deciding which game to play next, she was giggling and leaning back against James.
"I'm drunk," she whispered, turning to speak into his ear and sending the cowboy hat tumbling forward to cover her eyes.
James adjusted it and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I know."
"This is your fault, James Potter." She tried to rest her feet on the coffee table, but her foot scattered the pile of cards across the floor. "Damn. That was your fault, too."
"It most certainly was not my fault." He leaned around her to retrieve the cards, then maneuvered Lily so she sat beside him rather than on his lap. "You can thank Padfoot for giving you all those drinks. Although I'm quite glad he did. You're adorable when you're drunk, and you get a bit handsy, which obviously I don't hate, and I think a night of drunken silliness will be good for you after the summer we've had."
She hooked her finger under his chin and turned his head to face her, then leaned over to kiss him. He tasted the sharp burn of firewhisky and salt from the chips as her lips moved against his and her hand twined in his hair. When she pulled away, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, she looked happier and lighter than James had seen her in weeks. The war was nothing but a distant, ominous flicker, not the constant overwhelming weight that crushed them day in and day out. There was only the two of them, and Lily's hand on the back of his neck, and her lips, slightly swollen and lifting into a drunken smile.
"Would it be rude if we went to bed now?" she murmured, her eyes darting to the bedroom door.
James's mind was already in that bedroom, shutting the door behind them and turning out the lights – or, better yet, leaving them on. He began to rise, but then Sirius's voice shattered the haze of desire that had fallen between them.
"Don't you dare think about sneaking away to shag," he said, standing over them and smirking. "We're not irresponsibly drunk yet." He narrowed his eyes, then added, "Well, Evans might be, but the rest of us need at least another game to get us there. Quit groping each other and listen so Moony can teach us whatever drinking game the werewolves taught him."
Remus sighed and sat down in the chair across from James and Lily, clutching a full glass of firewhisky. "I already told you, Padfoot. The werewolves haven't taught me any drinking games."
Sirius perched on the arm of the sofa and rolled his eyes. "So what the hell do you do when you're off werewolfing with all of them?"
"Werewolfing is not a word," Remus said, eyes wide with indignation. "Honestly, the way you treat the English language is deplorable. Making up words whenever you fucking feel like it…" He shook his head and sipped his drink. "Let's just play Drunk Quidditch before Padfoot drives me mad."
Time had taken on a drunken fluidity, so James wasn't sure if they played for minutes or an hour. He was standing on the arm of the sofa, gesturing for Sirius to toss him the Quaffle from his position on top of the kitchen table, when he spotted Lily slumped on the floor, asleep with her head in Peter's lap.
"I told her there was no sleeping allowed in Drunk Quidditch," Peter said, gesturing helplessly at Lily's sleeping form. "And she said, 'Shh, Wormy, the rules are made up anyway.'"
James grinned. "Wormy is an adorable nickname."
Peter grimaced. "I guess you can call me that, if you like…"
"Nah," James said, shaking his head. "It can be just an Evans thing."
Peter's shoulders slumped with relief. "Brilliant. Anyway, I sat down to try to get her up, but somehow it ended up like this." He nodded down at Lily. "Sorry, I didn't mean to – well, she sort of just made herself comfortable."
"She does that." James knelt and touched Lily's shoulder. "Wake up, Evs. You're going to make me jealous, cozying up to Pete like this."
Lily opened her eyes and peered up at James, a lazy, sleepy smile on her face.
"But he's so comfy," she mumbled, closing her eyes again. "He makes a great pillow. You don't mind, do you, Wormy?"
"Er, no, I don't mind…"
James rolled his eyes. "Ignore him, he's too polite to say he'd rather not be a pillow."
"Mmm, that's true." Lily raised her head an inch, then returned it to Peter's lap. "Unfortunately I can't move. Too tired."
James sat down beside her and brushed her hair out of her face, intending to whisper some motivation in her ear.
"Get up, Evans," Sirius said, bounding over with a Quaffle tucked under his arm. "I want to get back to watching Pete get hit in the head by the Quaffle." He reached for the remaining chips that lay spread out on a greasy paper bag and jabbed her in the face with one. "Maybe this'll wake you up."
James laughed as Lily squeezed her eyes shut even tighter and turned her head to avoid the chip. It left a tiny smudge of grease on her face, which was adorable and also, absurdly, a bit sexy.
Remus wandered over holding the mostly-empty bottle of firewhisky and plucked the chip out of Sirius's hand. "You're obnoxious, Padfoot, you know that?"
"That's not new information!" Mary called from her spot on top of the potions work table by the balcony. "And can I stop standing up here?"
"No, you'd better not," Sirius said. "And why am I obnoxious for trying to feed Evans a delicious snack? It always works when Pete falls asleep." Sirius raised his eyebrows and nodded at the chip Remus had confiscated. "You may as well eat that, since you apparently want Evans to go hungry."
Remus shook his head and tossed the chip back onto the paper bag. "You know my opinion on potatoes."
Sirius sat on the edge of the coffee table and looked up at Remus. "No, but please – enlighten us, Moony."
Remus shrugged. "Potatoes are useless vessels."
Sirius narrowed his eyes. "What?"
"We've talked about this before. Potatoes are useless vessels for sauce and butter and other things that hide the fact that they taste like nothing."
"What?" Sirius repeated.
James could feel Lily shaking with silent laughter, although her eyes were still closed.
"Did you just call potatoes useless?" Mary hopped down, toppling over the little worktable and scattering various potions tools and bottles across the floor. She gazed at the mess with detached curiosity, then shook her head and pointed a finger at Remus. "You're a useless potato!"
Sirius slid onto the floor, rolling around in a fit of laughter. He bumped his head on the leg of the coffee table, but it only made him laugh harder. When he got himself under control, he pulled himself into a seated position and leaned against the back of the sofa, wiping away tears of laughter.
"Macdonald, I fucking love you," he said, eliciting a pleased smile from Mary. "Moony, we can't be friends. Goodbye."
"That's what you said last time we talked about this." Remus shrugged and refilled his glass. "I think I'll manage to persevere somehow."
"I don't think you're right, though," Peter said, his voice startling James. "Because a good chip doesn't need sauce."
It was Remus's turn to laugh. "I thought you'd fallen asleep, Pete. Have you just been sitting there this whole time, thinking deeply about the merits of potatoes?"
"I've thought a lot about this, actually," Peter said, chuckling. "Which sounds strange, now that I say it out loud."
"No, it's perfectly normal," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "When Moody's reports go on and on, I zone out and stare down Macdonald's shirt, but Pete's over there daydreaming about fucking potatoes."
"James." Lily tapped James's shoulder, and he leaned down until his ear was beside her lips. "Our friends are idiots."
He grinned and watched Sirius throw a chip across the room at Mary. She tried to catch it, but it bounced off her forehead.
"Yes, they are," he agreed, wiping the smudge of grease from her cheek.
"But I love them," she continued.
Sirius was now demonstrating the multiple uses of potatoes by pelting Mary with chips.
"So do I," he murmured.
"Will you bring me to bed? I don't think it's very nice of me to keep using Peter as a pillow, and I'd really like to snog you, but it might make him uncomfortable if we snog in his lap."
"That's very considerate of you." James got to his feet, then took Lily's hands and hoisted her upright. He draped her arm around his waist, then dodged a chip and guided Lily to the bedroom, bidding the others goodnight as he went. Just before he shut the door behind them, he heard Sirius call, "Did you hear that, Prongs? The useless potato says goodnight!"
"We all needed this," Lily said after James helped her wriggle out of her clothes and they were tucked under the duvet together, listening to their friends' faint laughter. "They've all been so stressed and serious, and we're hardly ever all together anymore. Thanks for suggesting it."
"It's not much of an accomplishment, getting everyone to agree to a night of drinking," he said, trailing his fingers along her waist.
But the memory of his friends' relaxed smiles and drunken laughter lingered in his mind until Lily's greedy lips and hands demanded all of his attention.