A.N.: Hello everyone!I hope I haven't made you wait long, but this chapter needed a lot of T.L.C before it was done ;) I really hope you like it and you have as much love reading it as I did writing it :D Major events are unfolding, so sit tight, Jily-lovers, you might like this one : )

If you have the time – I love reviews!

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, that credit goes to JKR. Just love 'em.

Chapter 5

"Drinking Games"

"Tuney." Lily stood forlornly in the dim dining room, her dress still sparkling and face pale. She could feel her family's breathing, Petunia's rapid and sharp, her mother's sigh and even her father as he drew in the air as if it could fortify him against whatever was coming next. "Tuney, I'm so sorry."

"Don't." Petunia lifted her hands as if to fend her off, voice tight with tears. "Don't call me that anymore."

Lily felt her shoulders sag, the strength and terror washing out of her. She had failed. Petunia hated her more than ever now, her parents were disappointed and all because of one stupid spell! What had she been thinking? "I'm so sorry," she tried again, stepping towards her sister, wanting to comfort but not quite daring to. "I don't know how this happened. I didn't mean it, I swear. My charms usually work - "

"Don't make me laugh!" interrupted Petunia. "That hokus pokus you do – Mum and Dad should be glad you haven't managed to blow your head off yet."

"Petunia-," began Mrs. Evans, just as Lily, desperate to explain herself, cried: "But that's not true at all, Tuney! We learn to control our magic at Hogwarts. That spell I just did – I learned how to do it this year and it's always worked until now –"

"Oh, it did, did it?" sneered Petunia. "That's just so wonderful for you, Lily! Just perfect and exactly what I needed to know – your spellwork. And while we're at it: I'm really dying to hear about some essay Professor Flitwick set you or that you finally managed to do that really difficult Transfiguration spell you've been practicing for weeks. But with all the great things you're learning, Lily, couldn't you learn to keep your head down and think about someone else for one – single – dinner?"

"Petunia –," Mrs. Evans tried again, starting forwards, but Mr. Evans held her back, murmuring something the girls couldn't hear.

Lily only had eyes for her sister anyway. She hadn't really heard the last remarks Petunia had hurled at her; her brain had started whirring at the mention of Professor Flitwick. "You did read them," she half-whispered, astounded. "You did read my letters."

"I - what?" snapped Petunia. Then, stiffening: "I didn't read anything." Lily imagined her face colouring, though it was obscured by the deepening darkness in the dining room. No one had made a move to put on the lights.

"You did!" Suddenly, inexplicably, Lily felt a lift in her chest. Despite the sparkling dress, the mess this dinner had been, despite all that, at least Petunia had read her letters. She did care about Lily after all! In that instant, Lily forgot all about her shame and distress. "I wrote to you about Flitwick's essay in February," she said, "and I was practicing the Transfiguration spell you're talking about for my OWL's just a few weeks ago. You couldn't have known that because I never talked about it this summer. She read them," she repeated, amazed, to her parents, who offered embarrassed half-smiles, like they were unsure whether they should intervene or if this conversation might still be saved. Mrs. Evans actually looked hopeful.

"What does it matter if I did?" said Petunia, who seemed to have recovered her icy composure in Lily's distracted delight. There was no trace of embarrassment in her voice now. "They were just more proof of what you are. Wonderful, exotic Lily in all her magical magnificence, bragging to Mum and Dad about all your adventures – what a show you make of yourself." She paused to wipe at her eyes, probably erasing a stream of mascara. Her return to the usual put-together demeanor of Petunia the Unshakable was rapid. "I knew what you were - I've known since we were children and you took off with that weird boy in his flappy clothes – that you and I would never be alike again. You chose the freaks, Lily, and I chose a respectable life. No matter how much you try to sugar-coat it – you're an abnormality, Lily, you're the bad egg." Her eyes glittered with contempt. "And now you've come home and you've seen that I'm finally happy and of course that can't be tolerated – it would take away your spotlight."

Lily was aghast. How could Petunia be saying these things about her? The tiny, treacherous bubble of happiness and hope that had risen in her chest had erupted in a shower of eyes. You're an abnormality. You're the bad egg. "I never meant to hurt you," she said very quietly. "I was just trying to make - to make a good impression. I was trying to be good - for you." She bit her lip. "I don't want to make a show of myself. I just want us to be proper sisters."

"Well, we'll never be," said Petunia with finality. "All my life I've had to watch as everyone cooed over you, over that cute, bright little girl with that special hair. And even worse things when you had to go off to your freak school." (Even after all these years, she wouldn't call it 'Hogwarts'.) "Every day I came home to Mum and Dad fawning over your letters and now, when there's finally one person who sees me as something special, who thinks I'm wonderful for a change, and you've turned him against me." Lily felt her last words like slap: "I don't want you to be my sister."

"But I want you in my life!" cried Lily, feeling tears spring to her eyes. "I didn't want to make you feel like this, I swear! All I do is try and –" She broke off, feeling choked.

"Well, I don't want you in my life," said Petunia. "I want a normal life."

Behind her, Mrs. Evans was crying. "Petunia, please," she sobbed. "She said she's sorry. There's – there's no need –"

Petunia didn't turn to her mother, didn't make a reply. Instead, she looked Lily up and down, in her grey dress, stained with wine from when she had upset it getting up from the stable so hastily, red hair in a tangle half-way down her back and cheeks stained with mascara she hadn't realised was running.

"You don't belong in our world anymore," Petunia said. "You haven't for year and I won't stop saying what I think: Me and Vernon, we're respectable people and we will live a respectable, normal life together." She took a deep breath and for a second, Lily felt her sister's anxiety under that calm, cold demeanor. She felt the questions pounding through her head, felt trying not to panic: How do I explain this to Vernon? Will he ever forgive me? Have I lost him forever?

And then, for the second time that night, Lily stood still as someone pushed past her, only this time it was Petunia, her bony shoulders tight and her face pinched. They listened as she ran up the stairs, though there was no sound of a door slamming. Even in a situation like this, she would be thinking about what the neighbours would say.

"Lily." Mr. Evans, who had been silent all this time, spoke into the silence. He sounded like he was trying to calm a wild animal. Lily wondered why. Was she shaking? "Lily, she's had a shock and so has Vernon. We'll explain it all to him – it was an accident, that's all. Not your fault."

"It was though, wasn't it?" said Lily very quietly. "I could have just worn that dress, or a different one. There was no bloody need to transfigure myself." She took a deep breath. "Petunia's right, I am a show-off."

She didn't want to look at her parents, didn't want to see her mother's tear-stained face and the wreck of the terrace or listen to Petunia's frantic voice on the phone upstairs. All she wanted to do was run, just like she had wanted to that afternoon. Only this time she didn't pause, didn't try to make herself stay. She just turned on her heels and bolted, right out the front door.

(Several hours later)

„Oi, Prongs!" Sirius was shaking James by the shoulder, a huge grin spread over his face. "You've got to come and look at this, mate."

James gave a grunt and tried to shake off Sirius's hands, muttering something about "annoying people", "attention-seeking" and "just trying to have a quiet drink here".

Sirius barked with laughter, a habit he had picked up in their early Animagus days that only seemed to be getting more pronounced - James often thought Sirius did this to annoy people and in this case, that was certainly his goal. "You don't want to miss this," said Sirius to his best friend now, "trust me."
"But I'm havin' sucha good conversation," protested James, his words coming out slurred as he gestured to the one-eyed troll sitting in a torn cloak next to him and glaring at Sirius.

"You a Black?" grunted the troll.

"Unfortunately," replied Sirius in an offhand voice, though he felt slightly uncomfortable. Had his father gone after trolls on this year's hunt, then? "Though I must say, I am much more handsome than my relatives, don't you agree?"

The troll eyed Sirius as though he were seriously contemplating the answer to that question and the wizard took the opportunity to elbow James in the side. "Listen here, Prongs," he muttered out of the corner of his voice under the pretense of fluttering grinning flirtatiously up at the troll, "I don't want to get in a fight with Mr. Grunty here, so would you kindly oblige me and come back to the front with me?"

James, who, judging from the three empty glasses in front of him, had had a great deal of firewhisky and was feeling the effects, sighed. "'Kay. See ya, Garbold," he said to the troll, giving a half-wave and almost falling off the barstool as he clambered off. "Whoo, floor's moving around a lot today, Padf'."

"Honestly, Prongs," said Sirius, annoyed, slinging his arm around his friend and dragging him to the curtain separating the front and back parlour, where the shadier parts of Godric's Hollow met up to play cards and trade half-legal goods. "I really hope you are sober to appreciate the spectactle up front."

"Spectacle?"

"Yeah," said Sirius with a snort of laughter as he finally wrenched back the curtain. The front parlour was full of people and loud music was playing. A crowd seemed to have gathered, half-obscuring their view of a figure in a very tight, grey dress and flaming hair, hopping around on a table in the center of the room and singing at the top of her voice.

James's draw dropped.

"As you can see," said Sirius, dropping his friend's arm from his shoulder and massaging it, "Lily Evans has decided to give us a little show."

(Three hours previously)

"Evans? What brings you here?" Sirius Black dropped down in the empty barstool, sweeping back his dark hair. A sly smile played around the corners of his mouth as he looked her up and down. "And might I say, you do look ravishing in that dress."

Lily glanced down at her stained, too-short dress. Too tired to think of a cutting reply, she just sighed and took a gulp of her drink (Firewhisky, he noted). "Go away, Black."

Sirius was surprised. Lily Evans was usually among the girls to shoot him down for a remark like the one he had just made. At Hogwarts, she might even have given him a detention. But what was this? A Lily Evans with her hair all rumpled, her dress ruined and a sickly pale face, all her usual vibrancy and cattishness evaporated. He hated to admit it, but it worried him. Not being good at emotional talks, Sirius cleared his throat. "Do you want me to get Moony?"

Lily looked up from her glass. "Moony?"

God, was she drunk already? "Moony, Lupin, Remus, whatever," said Sirius impatiently. "Your fellow prefect. Shall I get him?"

The redhead considered this proposition for a minute. Remus was nice and understanding, kind. Quite opposite from brash, insensitive Sirius Black with his comments on her dress and the way he was looking around for Nora. She wouldn't get any understanding from this Gryffindor, but did she want it? Making a decision, Lily swigged down the rest of her firewhisky.

"No," she said. "I want you to stay here and drink with me."

"Drink? With you? What, now?"

"Yes, now," said Lily. This time, she was impatient. "I want to get really drunk. Like you Marauders always do. Drunk until you forget, you know?"

He didn't know, but nodded anyway. This could be interesting, more interesting than losing his money to that pushy warlock in the other barroom anyway. "What are you drinking?" he asked.

"Firewhisky, and you know it," she replied and he was relieved to note her usual snappishness was returning. Or maybe it was just dry humour and he had never really noticed before? Her next words seemed to support his hypothesis: "Suits my hair, you know."

"So, you want another?" he asked.

"If you're paying. I don't have any money," she admitted in a low voice.

Sirius grinned. "So who paid for the first one?"

"The barman," said Lily, pointing to the hump-backed fellow at the other end of the bar who was cleaning glasses. There weren't many customers around yet, only a few middle-aged wizards in a corner toasting a birthday and wearing brightly coloured hats. "But I wouldn't count it as flirting," she added, "since I was crying and he said something along the lines of, 'Need to toughen you up for the real world, Duck' when he gave it to me."

"Duck?" Sirius actually laughed at this. "That was like a declaration of everlasting love from Petey."

"What'cha sayin', Black?" called the barman, having caught his name.

"We'll have another two of the red ones," called Sirius back. He looked quite at ease now, ordering drinks for them both. Lily looked at him sideways, hoping he wasn't thinking she fancied him.

The barman seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he threw Sirius a sour look. "He your boyfriend, Duck? Hope he didn't break your heart and come back to apologise now. Look at the state ya put her in, poor thing!"

"Oh, we're not together," said Sirius unashamedly, giving Lily a false, doting look one might reserve for a sister. "We're in the same house at Hogwarts and we've just decided to get drunk together."

"Or maybe just a little," interjected Lily, who was feeling unsure of herself now. What was she doing here anyway? Her mother would be worried sick … But then again, Tuney was back at the house, too, ready to face Lily with insults and that awful, cold look on her face. Bad egg. Abnormality. Show-off.

"So, you don't want to talk about what happened to you then, Evans?" asked Sirius in a conversational tone as their drinks arrived in two long, slim glasses. Petey was still looking between the two of them with apprehension, which Lily decided to ignore.

"Quite right," she said in a clipped tone and swallowed down the drink in two quick gulps before Sirius had even raised his glass. "Tonight, I just want to drink."

"But would you mind if I used Tergio on your face, Evans?" asked the wizard. "You do look a little woebegone, if I may say so."

"Wasn't I ravishing just minute ago?"

"Ah, I see, you're not that drunk yet," he said with a smile. "I was checking. But seriously – and don't make a pun of that, James has done it a trillion times already – Tergio." He flicked his wand as he said this and Lily felt warmth pass over her face as the tear streaks and make-up were cleaned away. She felt instantly better and ready for another drink. "Maybe blue this time?" she asked.

Sirius was getting worried.

(About two hours later)

"And another, Evans! You only said 'bony babbit' nineteen times, we all heard!" said Peter Pettigrew in a rather shrill voice, his cheeks highly coloured as the red head grabbed her glass. She didn't know when Peter and Remus had joined her and Sirius exactly, not when Marlene and Nora had turned up ("Your Mum called and told us you'd taken off!" – "Gosh, Lily, what are you wearing?"), though both coincided with Sirius explaining the key points of a drinking game called "Hairy Hag" to her over something like her sixth blue drink. Somehow they had all found themselves crammed in a corner booth, with James Potter fortunately nowhere to be found (off gambling in the back parlour with some shady fellow, Lily assumed). And so the game had commenced, the rules being as follows: every round, a bottle was spun and someone picked a word paired with a matching adjective that had the same first letter ("An alliteration," Remus sighed wearily as Sirius explained this, though no one would listen) and then the bottle was spun again to seek out a person who had to say the two words as many times as the round they were in. If you said the two words too often or too little, you had to drink, simple as that. And then there was one special rule: On every seventh round, no matter what number round they were in, everyone had to say Hairy Hag seven times as quickly as possible and the slowest one lost. The fantastic thing about the game was that it was impossible to check how many times some had actually said the particular alliteration and so it was more a game of accusations flying around and who could defend themselves best. Sirius was loudest, Peter was shrillest and Remus the most reasonable. The three girls were simply having too much fun to worry about arguments. And so, with the rules being so simple and so easily confused at the same time, they were all (except Remus) very, very drunk very soon and their wallets a great deal lighter.

To her surprise, Lily had found that, without James, she liked the boys a great deal. Peter was incredibly silly and blushed whenever Marlene addressed him directly, Sirius had a surprisingly self-deprecating sense of humour mixed in with his usual layer of blown-up confidence and slight haughtiness (which Lily was starting to suspect was an act), and Remus was much more easy-going than in school, though there was still a careful kind of reserve in his eyes. Alone among them all, he had managed not to get drunk.

The best part of the evening when the thing about the band came out.

"So you're going to be like The Sonnetiers?" giggled Marlene, whose cheeks were bright red and whose hair had come out of its customary ponytail.

Peter giggled too, which sounded ridiculous, and Nora began to sing a very carrying voice, "Oh, rosebud, love of miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!" At this, Remus smiled and the birthday partner in the corner across scowled from under their sparkling hats.

When they had all calmed down a little bit, Lily turned to Remus and asked, "Are you really forming a band, Remus, or is Sirius just being big-headed again?"

Sirius frowned. "Of course we are. We are going to the rock sensation of the year."

"Well, I think that award should go to Crashing Ravens, don't you think?" said Nora dryly. Even drunk, her annoyed her, yet that party and how they'd snogged … he was handsome, she couldn't help but admit that to herself and there were worse people to have snogged, but still. Sirius Arrogant-toerag Black, who was now bowing to her in mock defeat.. "Quite right, mylady, I won't contest that. But we could just become Crashing Ravens' supporting act for their big concert in September."

"Wow, that's incredible!" gasped Lily. "You're going for that contest in the Lightning Bolt, then? That's so, so great!" She beamed. "Really!"

"You read the Lightning Bolt?" asked Sirius, who could hold his liquor better than the other Gryffindor.

"Of course she does," interrupted Marlene, who could tell there was only gushing to be got from Lily now. "She plays the guitar. Don't you remember her accompanying the choir at Christmas?"

"There was a choir at Christmas?" asked Sirius but Peter piped up, "Your voice was really beautiful, Marlene!"

"Oh, er, thanks, Peter," she said, smoothing back her hair a little and looking confused. Being in Ravenclaw, she didn't know the boys very well - mostly from Lily and Nora's tales – so Peter Pettigrew knowing about her singing in the choir and then remembering her voice especially puzzled her, though it was nice.

"So, you're going to play rock then, are you?" asked Nora and when Sirius and Remus nodded, she eyed them. "What's your band name?"

There was a pause. "We haven't got one yet," said Peter. "But it will be something cool."

"How about this," said Nora and there was a vicious glint in her eyes as she leaned forward, "we spin that bottle another time and the person it hits has to shout out a matching word and adjective-" ("Alliteration," groaned Remus) "-and you have to take that as your band name." Her eyes met Sirius, a wordless challenge.

"I don't know," said Remus uneasily before Sirius could speak. "Maybe we should wait until Prongs is around. I mean, he's part of the band, too, so it wouldn't really be fair-"

"No, come on, it will be fun!" cried Lily, emptying her glass in one swig and staring around at them with bright eyes and a huge smile. "I'll spin it!" Just like that, she had made the decision for them all. With one sure notion, surprisingly controlled for her current state, she sent the bottle spinning and it landed squarely on her.

"Oh," she said in surprise. And before anyone could protest, she had shouted out, "Mischief makers!"

"What?" said Peter.

"Nice one!" said Sirius.

"I like it," said Remus. He smiled at Lily. "But how about we put a 'the' in front and call our band 'The Mischief Makers'?"

She blushed, being asked her opinion so seriously. "Of course," she said. "It's your band. I mean, you could call it something different, if you want –"

"No," said Sirius, to everyone's surprise. "It's perfect, actually. And we should drink to that. Evans, another?"

(Several hours later, back to where we started)

"She likes firewhisky," said Sirius. "And she's not a boring rule-abider."

James stared at the dancing girl on the table, her hair whipping around as she shouted for the barman to turn the music louder, then back at his best friend. "When did this happen?"

"Actually, you can take your pick," said the black-haired Gryffindor. "A game of Hairy Hag, naming our band and then discovering Lily's love for muggle bands all contributed." Seeing James's disbelieving stare, he added, "You can miss a lot playing gobstones over a few galleons, Prongs."

"So I see," was all James said. It was hard to read his face because the expressions on it kept changing from amusement, to worry, to curiosity, to annoyance and back again. A few moments later, it almost looked like he would get his mouth open again, but then several things happened at the same time.

First, Lily stumbled on the table. She threw up her hands and flailed through the air, towards the edge of the table.

Second, James sprang. He literally burst forward, arms outstretched. Sirius watched him move, fast as a flash, towards the table. It should have been impossible, but he managed to cross the room, move through the crowd and catch the falling redhead in his arms before anyone else could come to her aid.

She blinked. "Oh, I fell." It was a long moment, her cradled in his arms, red hair spilling all over his arms and those green eyes staring up at him in unfocused attention.

He stiffened, as the realisation of what he had just done struck home. Lily Evans. The boring rule-abider. "Yes, you did."

Lily blinked. "You smell like smoke," she said, her voice a little garbled. "You never used to when we were kids. More like cinnamon and leaves. Do you smoke now?"

James didn't really know what to say. What did you say to someone you had just saved from breaking their neck, especially if you didn't get along? "Glad you didn't die, not get away from me!"? He tried it out in his head but it sounded wrong. But answering that silly question would be just as bad. He wished someone would step in and help him out but somehow, it was very quiet around them, no one really making a sound. Where had the music gone? "Er-"

"I named your band," she went on. "'The Mischief Makers'. It's an alliteration."

"Wha-," James began, but before he could ask her what in Merlin's name she was talking, she closed her green eyes and her body went limp.

"James?" The noise was back and people were crowding around. "Is she okay?" He wondered if the people had been there all the time, because they were really making quite a racket. "Is she hurt?" – "Boy, you were fast!" – "We have to take her home!" – "Can you keep carrying her like that? I think she's sleeping."

If James Potter had wondered what he would be doing at one o'clock on this very night – and he wasn't a person inclined to do this, but bear with me – he would probably have laughed very heartily about a description of the events that led him to be carrying an unconscious Lily Evans through the dark streets of Godric's Hollow with a stream of people following behind him. But as it was, he was doing just that, with the newfound knowledge that he had smelled like cinnamon and leaves as a kid. And instead of laughing, he did something different and much quieter that no one saw. He kind of smiled.