Why Lily Fell

-By Yo-yo

A/N: I want to begin with an apology. My laptop was down and because I never learned my lesson about backing up information, I couldn't access these chapters. Sorry for the long break, but hopefully this chapter will make up for it. Also, in my brief hiatus, I've managed to begin a new story, so look for something new by me soon… it is still lacking a title… so when that happens… Much fun will ensue!

Thank you for the reviews, some were quite constructive, others were flattering and one was basically useless. Thanks Michael4HPGW, Jily123, EnchantedWords17, ariarox17, loving-arizona, NeatlyOverspil,and VentilatorsYelp, thank you for the kind words, and enchanted, I hope the vocabulary isn't distracting, I do get carried away. If you guys have ever read Charles Dickens, you'll realize that he's one of my favorite writers, description and imagery drives me (I view the white space on a sheet of paper like expensive real estate that needs to be filled).

This is in reference to wtf, and anyone else who may have been confused by aspects of my story. Although I shouldn't have to mention an excerpt in the second chapter that was explained in the first one, I will. My characters usually call one another by their nicknames. It makes for believable familiarity between people who have known one another for 5+ years. Usually, when the character is introduced, save for the Marauders, whose nicknames were established in HP3, I usually allude to their various names, but I'll redo it here, just in case you've been confused:

Delia Flynn: Fly, Dee

Soliel Benoire: Sunny (soliel means sun in French, and Benoire is a French last name)

Alice Avery: Allie

Mildred Quiglesby: Millie

Artemis Planck: Missy

Ciel Benoire: Skye (ciel means sky in French)

Rose Benoire: Pinkie (rose is pink in French)

Éclair Benoire: Clarie (éclair means lightning in French)

Petunia Evans: Tuny (I know it's misspelled, but I originally wrote this story, still accessible on , about 5 years before HP7 came out, and in my first chapter I created the nickname. In reading HP7 where the name first appears, I speculated that JKR must have checked out my story and decided it was the perfect nickname for Lily's sister. Yes, I am calling JKR a thief, but only hyperbolically, because really, there aren't many nicknames for someone named Petunia.)

By the way, Go. Marauders. and. Lily (besides thanks for reviewing), I hoped that I'd described it better, but she's using the electric rollers as a receptacle of heat, and never actually uses electricity. She taps her wand to the rollers, heating them in that way. I reasoned that she had a short time to curl the hair, heat is the easiest way to manipulate hair, and as she's a Muggle, so using her electric rollers would be the best option. The regular rollers that we know, be it soft, hard plastic, or metal would melt or burn Alice's hair, and as electric rollers are engineered to take heat and be applied to hair. It just made sense she would use some Muggle ingenuity to overcome some drawbacks of being a wizard. (I know there may be tonics or something, Hermoine used special pomades to tame her hair for the Yule Ball, but that sounds icky to me when Lily has comparable Muggle options)

And just for shits and giggles, injecting as much 1970s references in a story about wizards makes me happy.

-Yo-yo

Meditations in an Emergency:

She delved further from the intricacies of slumber until she arrived just over the cusp of consciousness. With her eyes still closed, she allowed herself a few moments to bask in the warmth of her comforter, the well-worn cotton soft against her skin. A deep sigh blew from her lips as she resolved to wake beneath the warm folds, listening to the rhythmic sounds of her four roommates' breathing.

Last night's confrontation with James had unsettled her.

Just as they had begun to establish an understanding, everything shattered.

After the argument with James, she couldn't face the girls; she felt like she'd let them down again, unable to find that common ground that had for a time made their friendships easy. Instead of taking to her room after she'd left his, she retreated to the highest Astronomy tower and watched the Waxing Gibbous moon glow through the diaphanous clouds. When she finally felt safe of Filch and his new kitten, Mrs. Norris, she stealthily made her way toward Gryffindor tower, praising Merlin that the Fat Lady hadn't gone off.

She didn't cry.

She'd made a promise to herself a long time ago that James Potter wasn't worth her tears. He had not changed in all the time she'd known him. She'd long told herself not to dwell on what she could not change.

She just told the truth. She had finally told him… finally let him know what it has felt like to be on the receiving end of one of his jokes.

She told herself she mustn't cry.

But pressing her face onto the cool side of her pillow, a single tear broke her resolve.

She wasn't crying, she rationalized, a single tear does not make a cry.

Instead of waxing poetically about her current state of ennui, she got up.

Pushing aside the thick coverings, she was assaulted by the cool air stealing the warmth that had kept her insolated all night.

"Shit," she groaned, shivering involuntarily, her eyes snapping to the opened window beside Sunny's bed.

Sighing in resolve, she grasped beneath the covers, pulling an oversized grey sweatshirt over her cotton tank. Placing her feet on the stone floor, this time, she gasped in shock and immediately retracted them. Pulling her knees to her chin, she wrapped her arms around her shins and her eyes swiveled toward the fireplace. It seemed the wind had blown the fire out, causing the dormitory's stone floor to assume the temperature of ice.

She lifted her hands to her hair slowly, pushing back the tangled, red curls. Her clear, green eyes searched the floor for her fuzzy slippers.

In a moment, she spotted them on the floor beside Sunny's bed, the girl who'd left the bloody window open!

She looked for something else to put on her feet, but soon realized that everything required her to step from the bed onto the painfully cold floor.

"Sunny… Sunny…" she called.

She paused a moment, only to be replied with silence.

"Sunny… Sunny…" she called again, this time using the closest item she could find, which happened to be her wand, to throw at the drawn curtains and rouse the girl within.

But her endeavor was for naught as Sunny did not stir.

"Sunny!"

"What?" Sunny finally cried, stumbling out of bed.

"Oh shit!" Sunny gasped, jumping back onto the mattress.

Mornings like these, Lily was amazed at how Sunny could maintain her looks. She was somehow rumpled and refined at the same time. Her short, usually carefully arranged curls were twisted in a messy, devil may care heap atop her head. Her eyes, albeit glazed from sleep seemed to show brighter than normal. And her skin, not chapped and dry like Lily's in the relentless weather, but rather well-oiled and supple looking.

"Can you bring me my slippers?" she asked, with the most innocent voice she could fake.

"You want your bloody slippers?" Sunny asked, glaring at her from across the room.

"Yesh pleash," she turned to baby talk to alleviate some of Sunny's anger.

Lily and Fly had speculated years ago that the Benoire's were half Veela, being so impossibly beautiful at every moment of every day. All four of the girls were entrancing, which Lily and Fly felt completely unfair.

"You can have your bloody slippers!" Sunny reached down and grabbed the slippers, throwing them at Lily, aiming for her head.

Lily ducked and caught them easily, her years of softball preparing her for this moment.

"Thanks." A soft chuckle shook her shoulders as she slipped the shoes on her feet.

"Oh, go to hell!" Sunny mumbled, drawing her curtains behind her.

Placing her newly sheltered feet on the floor, Lily stretched, finally able to free her muscles from the residual tension of last night.

In a moment, she felt something fall to her head. She kept contorting her body as her fingers grazed over her curls, in a blind search, uncovering nothing there. Figuring the feeling was simply a figment of her imagination, she shrugged. Standing up straight, what felt like a fifty liter bucket of water gushed down on her, drenching her completely.

Giggles erupted from her "sleeping" roommates, and now all of their heads were peaking through their curtains.

"Bloody hell!" she screeched. "That was ice water! Which one of you slags did this?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sunny giggled, peaking through her curtains, "I think I must have misunderstood you, I thought I heard you ask for a shower as well."

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Lily gathered her belongings and stalked toward the lavatory, grabbing her wand as she moved toward the door. Once the door clicked close behind her, the sound of four girls' screams pierced throughout Gryffindor tower.

She let her head rest heavily against the scrubbed wooden table as she kept her eyes clenched shut. A migraine had blossomed in the shower and all she wanted to do today was sleep. Between schoolwork, prefect assignments, Slug Club and Potter's injuries, her night had exhausted all of her senses, and this morning her constitution was staging a revolt.

She had entered the Great Hall hoping to feed the migraine, but couple the pain with the random high pitched squeals that kept assaulting her senses, it felt as though the pounding in her brain was amplifying. So instead, she pressed her forehead further into the wooden planks.

It wasn't only her fight with James and the migraine that resulted in her bad mood. Her bad mood had really begun the night before yesterday when Alice returned from her date with Frank with a glittering diamond on her finger. She had asked the girls to keep it quiet over the weekend, but today, she had finally revealed the news to the girls, hence the squeals coming from every corner of the Great Hall.

Today, Lily learned that the initial shock was just the half of it.

Lily knew that she wasn't bad looking, and she didn't have a bad attitude either, but her lack of male callers began to trouble her when Alice showed her the small stone that shown brilliantly, even in the candlelight. Ok, it wasn't her lack of male callers, she received more requests than she cared for, but the quality of her male callers left something to be desired. Of all the dates she'd been asked on this year, she'd only taken two seriously, one of those was with Adrien, her French tutor. At this rate, she was never going to have her own Frank Longbottom, as either wizard or Muggle.

She could be like Sunny, forever testing the waters, treading closer and other times farther away from what she really wanted. It meant that she was always in total control of her relationships, but always unfulfilled in what she really needed. Or she could take Fly's route and eschew all male attention because she believed they had no interest in her. Even Petunia's endless string of boyfriends paled Lily's fruitless attempts at male companionship.

Only twice she'd allowed herself to fall for boys' charms, and she'd learned from both experiences that she had shit taste in paramours.

She was busy, and driven, and had secrets on her plate. But it was sixth year and people were beginning to pair up. It wasn't the pairings that she craved, but a movement forward, toward a future. Sirius and James were going to be Aurors, Delia was looking to coach the Chudley Cannons, Sunny hoped to apprentice with a robesmaker and eventually own her own shop and she and Peter and Remus were without concentrations. Well, she had a concentration, officially she was a Healing candidate, but it felt particularly tedious, what she was supposed to be, but not what she was meant to be, if there was ever a difference.

Her musings were disrupted when at the usual time a parliament of owls flew into the Grand Hall, descending on the students, bringing letters and parcels. Today, Noctem, Lily's black barn owl, swooped in with her weekly missives from her parents and Tuny.

"Thanks, Noctem," she smiled, stroking the ebony owl atop its head and offered him a biscuit.

Unfurling the letter from her parents, she scanned her mother's words and a small smile curled her lips. It mentioned the usual: news of Petunia, Da's weekly advice, when the next parcel of chocolate would arrive, news of Douggie, Aunt Jo and Nana, and Mum's rambling about not eating all of the chocolate delivery and the importance of brushing after every meal (referring to Lily's second and third years when she had to wear those ugly, metal braces and was constantly being chided by the orthodontist about stuck peanuts and caramel).

Unfolding Tuny's letter, she smiled. Petunia had sprayed her perfume on the stationary with little petunias bordering the elegant paper. Letting the soft scent of Chanel No. 5 remind Lily of home, she perused Tuny's letter, which, like her parents, contained the usual: she and Peter had finished and she and Adam Williams were together. She rambled on about the impossible goals her teachers were setting for her, how the girls at her school were such slags, how she couldn't wait until Uni and how much she wished Lily was home so she could vent in person.

Placing both letters in her bag, she grabbed a couple of strips of bacon, a hardboiled egg, and a discarded Daily Prophet and left the Grand Hall, just as The Marauders sat down to breakfast.

"I need a massage," she flopped down on a couch opposite Lily, hours later.

Lily looked up from the newspaper to see Fly lounge in front of her utterly exhausted.

Although Sunny held the title of most beautiful girl, Fly unknowingly held a nomination for the sexiest Quidditch Captain. It radiated most when she exerted herself. It had something to do with her dark skin glowing pink with exertion and glistening with perspiration. There was something about her moist, tousled hair, clinging and curling to her nape of her neck. With her eyes wide, and unobscured by glasses, she weakened knees. And in her gym clothes, clinging and accentuating her womanly curves, Fly after a workout was dangerous to masculine fortitude.

But in her intensity, she never did notice the power she held over the masculine resolve.

"Ask Sirius," Lily offered, "he's good at that kind of thing."

She wrinkled her nose, stretching feline-like on the couch,

"He's a jerk. I'm sure he's got better things to massage, the wanker. I won't keep him."

Lily grinned.

"Why do you look so put out anyway? Usually you're reeling from exertion, it makes you high."

"I twisted my ankle on our run today, why didn't you accompany us?"

Lily, Fly and Sunny belonged to a running group on campus. They, along with various other students, scheduled laps around campus several times during the week.

"I got caught up with the Daily Prophet, I lost track of time."

"Well Mary McDonald wanted to remind you about the prefects meeting later. And she offered a heads up, something about party committee sign-ups?"

"Ugh," Lily groaned. "I hate planning wizarding parties, all the details are always out of my scope of reference and the girls always get pushed into the job. Do you think Remus would volunteer to spend multiple hours discussing color schemes, themes and tweens with some mediocre looking witches?"

"If you could secure him a date with Sunny, I'm sure he'd do anything for you. It's a shame James is so badly behaved, he would be the perfect lapdog to your prefect."

"You know?" Lily chose to ignore Fly's comment regarding James.

"Please, Lily, why else is Remus giving her the cold shoulder? He's been in love with her for ages… I don't know why he won't say anything? They'd make an adorable couple."

"I know," Lily smiled at the possibility, then sighed, "How long are we going to freeze the guys out?"

"Sunny and I speculate we should give in after the Ravenclaw game. Once we win, the boys will try to settle the feud and we'll get free firewhiskey."

"Such smart girls," Lily grinned, "Getting free drinks from rich men, Daniel of Beccles would approve."

"Oh Tiger Lily," Fly smiled, reaching over to pat her on the arm, "I love that you pay attention in Muggle Studies."

"You have no idea who he is, do you?"

"The Prime Minister?" Fly guessed, shrugging away her ignorance.

"Delia Flynn, how will you ever learn if I keep doing your homework for you?"

"Hon, you only do my homework because you find it fun answering questions from the wizard perspective, ignorant of Muggle life. If you'd like to stop doing my work, I'm sure I can find another sucker."

"Stop being insightful, and leave your parchment on my bed."

"Good girl," she grinned, lacing her hands behind her head and lounging further into the couch. "One born every day," she breathed with her eyes closed.

"Now that you're done calling me a pushover-" Lily began.

"Maybe we should do something for them," Fly turned to Lily, interrupting her by returning to their previous conversation, "Like put a missed connection ad in the Daily Prophet or something, you know how Sunny loves those types of romantic gestures."

At the mention of the Daily Prophet, Lily knit her brows.

"Is everything ok?" Dee asked, noticing her change of expression.

"Yea, I don't know, I was following up on the brief bit about that American Muggle politician, Harvey Milk- the Daily Prophet needs to work on abstaining from judgment, by the way," she inserted. "But I keep coming across stories about fatal accidents; they're becoming more common recently."

"What nature, dark magic?" Fly yawned, barely interested.

"I'm not sure, the descriptions are vague and the articles brief. Of the two I found today, one was an accidental poisoning of a whole family and another describes a spell backfiring."

"Lily, don't worry about those things. They happen all the time. Witches and wizards not paying attention, keeping bad mojo in their houses and forgetting, and pretending to have the type of magic they never could. It's just a fact of life, what that Darwin fellow once said, thinning the herd or survival of the fattest and all."

"It doesn't concern you?"

"Not in the slightest. I get it, your empathetic, great attributes for a Healer, and terrible flaws for a Muggle trying to understand this world. If the Daily Prophet isn't concerned, then neither should y-"

"Fly," she looked at her friend. "What if there is something to it? What if it is Dark Arts?"

"Remember that my father is an Auror, and so is Kerry. If they were something to worry about they would have-"

"The kind of stuff the Slytherins were dabbling in last year reminds me of this. Snape was reading all of these books… One of those curses they described yesterday, something about the victim looking as though they'd been 'slashed by a sword.' Snape says he created something similar-"

"I bet he did," Fly smiled, turning and facing her friend. "Look Lily. Snape has been in love with you forever now. When you guys were still close, he had this hope that someday you would fall for him. He would have said anything to impress you… and obviously, he did. I agree that Snape has some skill, but he was trying to impress you because you're amazing. Loads of witches and wizards have claimed ownership of curses that they could never have concocted for lesser reasons. Why would he be dabbling so deeply in Dark magic?"

Lily frowned, remembering what he'd said that night in the corridor,

"Your decisions will have dangerous consequences."

"I haven't the slightest…" Lily frowned aloud, picking up the Prophet to study the short articles again.

"Faster, faster!" she bellowed, rage booming in her voice.

He groaned, urging the broom faster, his head already banging from her shouting.

"Potter, I don't even want to see you!" she shouted. "You should be a blur to me and everyone in the crowd. They should be confusing you for the Snitch!"

Picking up speed, James ground his teeth together and shifted his broom. Since the incident with Fly and Sirius in the common room, she had been like a hemorrhoid on his ass. She'd driven them further than she'd ever done, and wouldn't let them perform less than she demanded. Practice last night had persisted for five hours because the rookies, Ashley and Jacob, hadn't seemed to grasp the freefalling concept. She kept the entire team until those two succeeded.

The next morning was their first game against Ravenclaw, and he was pretty sure he'd fall off his broom from exhaustion before the first five minutes were up.

"Potter!"

"My broom's not fast enough!" he finally snapped. "I'm sorry if I cannot be a blur, but my broom isn't fast enough!"

"Then get another broom," she retorted lamely, slightly taken aback by his seething tone.

"I'm sorry, but the Astro200 IS the fastest broom. I'm so sorry they haven't created a broom fast enough for your liking."

She'd been shouting for days now, he was surprised that her voice hadn't failed her yet.

Groaning, he reviewed the entire week. It had been hell. Lily and Fly had stopped talking to both he and Sirius. Sunny had stopped talking to all four of The Marauders. And Remus had stopped talking to Sunny. They didn't sit beside one another anymore. They now sat at opposite ends of the table during meals and in classes.

Even the limited interactions with Remus and Peter hadn't helped in bringing them any closer together.

James sighed to himself. Over the past few of years, he'd grown accustomed to having the girls around. During their first years the two groups hardly mingled, even though he, Sirius and Fly had been friends long before beginning Hogwarts, and Lily and Remus had become fast friends in their first classes. In third year, however, after Lily learned about Remus being a werewolf, the two groups sort of merged. Soon, they were almost inseparable.

The girls were always an unlimited resource for good advice, no matter how devious or serious. Their added talents made them all perform better in classes. In some cases, the girls were better allies than The Marauders themselves. They were always great to hang out with, in some ways keeping The Marauders out of serious trouble and making sure they didn't become too enthralled with their pranks.

He missed them criticizing the way that he and Sirius treated girls. He missed the way that they constantly argued over trivial things and how close they became when their friendship was tried. He missed the way Lily was quick to argue over simple ideas. He missed the way Sunny would pout just to get her way. One thing he wasn't missing was Fly urging him to do better on the Quidditch pitch… That was getting old fast.

A high pitched whistle screamed through his reverie and brought him down to earth (literally).

As soon as his feet crashed to the ground, he hurtled to the locker room, completely bypassing the rest of the team and ignoring Fly's post-practice wrap up.

The first drop of scalding water licked his bare back and immediately relaxed him. He let all of the stress from the day drain from his over-worked limbs and swirl down the drain.

Of course, none of the guys ever voiced their upheaval over the entire situation, but he could sense- feel- the awkwardness. It was on his skin, pricking the fine hairs on the back of his neck. Every time the guys suggested a new scheme, silence would follow, each one recalling a different memory of the girls reprimanding them and warming them of unseen dangers.

Letting the warm water drench over his head, he thought of the night when he and The Marauders had first become Anamagi. He remembered the way Lily sat on the ground before them, she and Remus cuddled beneath a warm blanket, reams of parchment strewn helter skelter and a mug of warm chocolate at her lips. Her wand lay on her lap, ready for whatever calamity may ensue. She had spent several nights with them before this, perfecting their pronunciations and wand work, concocting the various potions and arranging the ceremony. And that night, at the precipice of their transformation, she oversaw its success.

He remembered the trepidation in her eyes that she thought he couldn't see. He remembered the way she nervously downed chocolate after chocolate. He also remembered the way her face brightened with a mixture of amazement, triumph and knowing as they all stood before her donned in pelt and snouts. He remembered the way she'd affectionately placed a kiss to each of them, even Peter the rat. She even spent the night, snuggling in their warmth when the transformation had taken too much of all of them that they'd spent the night in the forest, in a tight heap on the soft clearing. He also remembered the tears in her eyes and the sadness that finally came when she realized all of this preparation culminated in an experience she didn't get to share with them.

Shutting the taps, he grabbed a towel and began to dry off. He knew he'd be hearing about his abrupt exit for hours once he left, but he knew Fly's threats were empty…

… as was his current state.

When he was eleven, he didn't know what he was doing.

He didn't know one day those beautiful green eyes would give him the look that struck him dumb with lust and wanting and esteem. He didn't know how important it was to be in her good graces, how he would someday crave her looks, her touches and her smile. His eleven-year-old self didn't know that she would haunt his dreams, her tears would cause actual pain in his body and that her disdain would reduce him every time.

His eleven-year-old self had robbed, unknowingly, his sixteen-year-old self of the chance to befriend Lily Evans, to pursuing Lily Evans, and to eventually be in love with Lily Evans.

And he regretted that stupid prank every day of his life.

"Lily!"

"… Joe Perry…" she moaned.

He stood before her, his tall, lanky body tempting her to reach out a hand and gently caress the firm contours of his chest. She wanted to press her body close to his and feel his arms wrap around her, holding her in an intimate embrace, wrapping her in security and warmth. She wanted to press her lips to his, brushing a prayer against his lips as he pulled her into a world of sheer and utter bliss.

"Lily!" the voice called again, faintly, but she just couldn't take her eyes from Joe's lips.

"LILY!" voices called, waking her from her dream

"What?" she groaned, quite rumpled, lifting her head from the pillow.

"Your bloody mirror!" Fly called through her canopy, "Answer it."

Not bothering to open her eyes, she reached blindly on her nightstand for the smooth, cool piece of gold and silver.

As soon as she flipped it open, James' voice was already whispering urgently,

"Lily, get downstairs now!"

"Ugh," she groaned, stumbling out of bed and out of the girls' dormitory.

In moments, she was standing directly in front of James Potter's levitating head- the rest of him concealed in his Invisibility Cloak- whose mouth currently hung open, shocked by her choice of bedtime dress.

"What?" she groaned, shoving her red curls from her forehead and shivering in the cold.

"You sleep in that?" he asked, his eyes traveling her body most obscenely.

"What are you-"she began but immediately flushed in embarrassment.

She was wearing only a thin, white tank top and boys' knickers which had little Spider-mans web slinging tonight.

"Those are boys' knickers!"

"Why did you bring me from my warm bed?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest remembering that they were fighting.

"We need you-" he began, but she cut him off.

"Why are you asking me? Go ask someone else!" she said turning back toward her bed.

"Lily, tonight's a full moon and Remus really needs you-"

"What happened?" she gasped, whirling around.

"I'll tell you on the way," he answered, glancing at her outfit again. "I think you should grab a jacket or something."

Rolling her eyes, she waved her wand and mumbled, "Accio sweater, sweatpants, and Bitten."

Immediately tugging on the items, and tucking a small bottle in her pocket, she rushed after James, knowing they wouldn't have called on her unless absolutely necessary.

TBC…