A/N: First, I'm a little embarrassed about the 'that's what she said' joke in the last chapter. To explain, I put in little side jokes like that as I write—it used to be for the amusement of one of my friends that acted as my beta for a while, and now I just do it for my own amusement. Anyway, I usually take them out before posting, as it seems kind of unprofessional to leave them in (not that I'm writing the next best seller or anything, but you get my point, I hope), but I forgot last week. So, I'm glad most of you didn't seem to mind it (it was a rather good 'that's what she said,' if I do say so myself), but I just thought I'd offer an explanation.

And now, on to the regularly scheduled thanking of reviewers: Cassie Weasley, leeease, booklover1998, Cwam, Fantastical Fwooper, emandem, SecretBlack, GabiWoods, Silver Scorpion, Tastes-Like-Fry, Evisawesome, and VaneBEAR—you all rock :)

Chapter 5: Will Not Follow

"Well, I'd better be going," I said reluctantly to Mary Thursday evening. We'd been studying in the library since dinner, but it was nearing eight o'clock and I was scheduled to complete rounds of the castle. I was looking forward to it less than usual, as Remus wouldn't be present to alleviate the boredom of the task.

"Okay—I'll probably be back in the common room by the time you finish."

"Right. Would you mind bringing my bag back? I'd rather not have to carry it for two hours."

"Sure."

"Thanks. See you later."

I exited the library, hesitated for a moment just outside it, and decided to start with the astronomy tower. After climbing the six flights of stairs to the base of the tower, however, I couldn't really fathom making the additional trek to the top—besides, who'd be up there anyway? (okay, so I could think of at least one reason for people to be there; I was pretty much just lazy)—so I abandoned that plan and was about to head to a different part of the castle when I heard a thump followed by someone swearing.

Whirling around, I was surprised and confused to find the staircase empty. "Hello?" I asked tentatively, immediately feeling like an idiot for doing so. No one answered. How surprising, I thought dryly. I hate being a prefect sometimes. Moving closer to the stairs, I peered further up them, but still couldn't see anyone. Putting on my authoritative, punishment-giving voice, I said, "Okay, I know someone is here." Whoever it was could be under no impression that I hadn't heard them swear earlier. Now feeling incredibly foolish, I continued, "Well, whoever you are, you're obviously trying to hide something, and if I—"

"All right, just calm down, Evans," a disgruntled and horribly familiar voice said.

"Potter?" I asked, now thoroughly bewildered. There was an odd sort of shimmer in the air, and suddenly I found myself staring at Potter, who was sitting on the stairs; however, the way he was sitting made it look like he'd fallen rather than chosen to sit down. "What are you—how did you—" I started, trying to make sense of the situation.

"It's an invisibility cloak, Evans," Potter said shortly, as though he was telling me this against his better judgment. I glanced down, for the first time noticing the silvery cloth he held in his hand. That must have been the shimmer I saw. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, I thought ruefully, quickly recovering from the shock of Potter's sudden appearance, if anyone would be sneaking invisibly around the castle, it would be Potter.

"And what, may I ask, were you doing . . . being invisible?" I asked as Potter rose from the stairs, brushing off his trousers and stuffing the cloak into a pocket of his robes. "And where did you get an invisibility cloak?"

"That's none of your business." He had a sort of challenging look in his eyes as he met mine, as though he was daring me to punish him for this. Unfortunately, it wasn't against any rules to own an invisibility cloak, nor to use it—unless, of course, one was using it to aid in one's endeavors to break the rules. Which, as it was Potter, was a very high possibility.

"Actually, I think you'll find that it is my business, Potter, if you've been using it to break the rules—you have to admit, it does look pretty suspicious, and knowing you as I do—"

"Well, you can't prove that, I'm afraid, Evans," Potter interrupted. His voice still sounded slightly harsh, and I wondered what could account for this change in attitude. He'd never been above teasing me incessantly, but he'd never been outright hostile towards me.

I pressed my lips together into a thin line. "Fine," I said curtly, spinning on my heel and starting back along the corridor. The sound of footsteps behind me made me turn again—Potter was following me.

"What?" he asked tersely in response to the questioning slash annoyed look I shot him. "There's no other way out of this corridor."

I turned around again without answering, and as Potter's footsteps drew even with mine, I stared resolutely towards the windows, watching the full moon flash past as I walked. After a while, I snuck a glance at Potter. He was looking straight ahead, his jaw tight.

"Look, I'm not going to turn you in or anything," I said, annoyed. "So there's no need to be so cross with me."

Potter glanced at me briefly, then sighed. "It has nothing to do with you," he said, though he didn't sound irritated. Instead, I almost got the sense that he was apologizing for being so short with me earlier.

"Oh," I said, feeling slightly sheepish. "Well, then what—"

Potter suddenly clapped a hand over my mouth, cutting me off.

I shoved his hand away angrily. "What are you—"

"Shh!" Potter hissed, and I clamped my mouth shut again, listening. Voices were floating out of a nearby room, and suddenly, I knew who they would belong to.

We crept closer, and my heart was pounding as hard as it had been the day of the Quidditch match. I fought every instinct to run as Potter stopped just out of sight of the room—after all, I didn't want to look like a coward in front of Potter.

"—all for now," Severus was saying.

"So, same time, same place next week then?" a second voice that I was pretty sure belonged to Marcus Avery responded.

"No, you fool," Mulciber said through clenched teeth. "We have to switch times and locations every time, otherwise—"

"I'll let you know," Severus said, overriding Mulciber.

"How?" Avery asked.

"I'll let you know," Severus repeated, his words slower and more dangerously quiet this time.

I could almost see Avery gulp. "Right," he mumbled. Footsteps started towards the door, and my heart leaped into my throat. I didn't know what they'd do if they caught me listening in on them a second time, but I knew it wouldn't be pleasant. But before I could move or say anything, Potter threw the invisibility cloak around us. As the cool cloth settled around my head and shoulders, Potter grabbed my arm and pulled me against the wall. "Don't make a sound," he said, almost inaudibly.

Okay, did that really need to be said? I thought, resisting the urge to say the words aloud. But as Mulciber, Avery, and Severus exited the room, I flattened myself against the wall instinctively, hardly daring even to breathe. I was sure my rapidly beating heart would give our position away, but the three boys merely looked up and down the corridor briefly, their eyes sweeping over us, and started away in the direction Potter and I had been heading. Maybe I imagined it because I was so nervous, but I could have sworn Severus's gaze lingered on the spot where Potter and I were hidden slightly longer than the other two. However, he too turned eventually to follow Avery and Mulciber down the corridor.

We remained frozen against the wall long after the trio had disappeared from sight. Then Potter let out a long breath, almost as though he'd been holding it, and pulled the cloak from around us. His hand remained clamped over my arm, and I shook it slightly, saying, "Er, Potter, would you mind letting go? I'm starting to lose feeling in my fingers."

Potter glanced down, seeming almost surprised to find himself still grasping my arm. "Sorry," he muttered, dropping it.

I rubbed the spot where his hand had been, both to get the blood circulating once more and to rid myself of the feeling of Potter's grasp—I didn't exactly relish being touched by him.

Potter stowed the cloak in his pocket once more before fixing me with a calculating, intense look.

"What?" I asked defensively when he didn't say anything, just continued to stare at me.

"You weren't surprised to find them there, were you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what with your . . . history with Snape, I would've expected more of a reaction."

"Oh, so now you're all perceptive about—"

"Just answer the question, Evans."

I met his eyes for a moment and then looked down. "No, not really," I admitted. "I mean, I didn't necessarily expect to see them here, but the general situation wasn't that much of a shock." I was a little surprised at how calmly I could discuss this—after all, I fully understood the implications of this and the last meeting between Snape and his friends.

Apparently, Potter hadn't been expecting it, either. "You're rather carefree about them all being Death Eaters," he said scathingly.

I took a step back, glaring at him. "I'm perfectly aware of the seriousness of the situation—and this doesn't prove they're Death Eaters," I said, gesturing back at the room they'd recently vacated.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my mistake," Potter replied sarcastically. "But I'm pretty damn sure it won't be long until they are."

"Right, thanks for reminding me that my former best friend chose You-Know-Who over our friendship," I shot back, matching Potter's voice for sarcasm. "I'd forgotten."

That shut him up. He winced, looking down for a moment, then raised an apologetic gaze to my face. "Sorry," he said for the second time that night.

Both of us fell silent, and I thought vaguely how odd it was to have Potter sincerely apologizing to me. Well, he did try to once before, but you—no, this is not the time to think about the end of last year, I argued with myself. Though all this stuff with Sev sure makes it hard not to think about it. Okay, I'm having a conversation with myself—stop it, Lily.

I was glad when Potter chose that moment to break the silence. "So, er, was it something like this that you ran into after the Quidditch game?"

Well, never mind, I'm not glad he broke the silence with that. "Yeah, still don't want to talk with you about that," I said rather shortly.

Potter held up his hands. "Fine."

We started walking again, and before I knew it, I'd started telling Potter everything anyway. I don't really know what came over me, but for some reason I wanted his opinion on the matter. After all, when I'd told Mary about it, the conversation had quickly turned into one of her Potter-is-nice-and-you-have-a-crush-on-him discussions.

When I finished he said, "Well, no wonder you looked . . . 'spose you'd better watch yourself now—if Mulciber finds out you told me . . ." he trailed off with a twisted smile.

"Thanks, I'm glad to see you're so concerned for my safety," I said dryly. Potter gave me another calculating look but didn't say anything. "Speaking of that day," I continued, choosing to ignore whatever was currently going on inside his head, "it's my turn to ask you something."

"Oh, is it?"

"What did you mean when you said I 'wasn't even going to try'?"

Potter stopped walking, and, to my astonishment, actually reddened slightly at this. "I meant that you were never even going to try to stop hating me," he mumbled in a rush. "But—"

"I don't hate you," I said, realizing as I said it that it was true. I wasn't sure how long it had been true, but sometime recently, Potter had become . . . tolerable. I still wouldn't go as far as to agree with Mary that he was a decent person, but being around him—like now, for instance—no longer made me want to jump out the nearest window.

Potter raised his eyebrows. "Really? Interesting . . . well, I guess you learn something new everyday, huh, Evans?" he asked with a smirk.

"Don't push it," I muttered.

Potter chuckled, and we started walking again. As we reached the end of the corridor, both of us turned right, as though by some unspoken agreement.

"So, where did you get an invisibility cloak?" I asked, realizing as I spoke that we were having something close to an actual conversation. Strange.

Potter glanced sideways at me. "I thought I told you that was none of your business," he said, but the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

I just shot him a look.

"All right—I got it from my father. I guess you could say it's some sort of family heirloom; it's been passed down for ages."

"Well, that's—" I stopped abruptly, my mind suddenly flying to the paint balloon prank, and how the balloons had seemed to come out of nowhere . . .

"That's what?" Potter prompted.

"It was you—I knew it!" I said, disregarding his question.

Potter frowned at me. "What?"

"That day with the water balloons full of paint . . . I couldn't tell where they were coming from, but that's because you were invisible!"

"I suppose you're going to turn me in for it now, then?" Potter asked, somehow managing to sound both joking and wary at the same time.

"No—it's been a week already. And why would you automatically assume I'd do that, anyway?"

Potter snorted and stopped again to face me squarely. "Only the fact that you've never given me a reason not to."

Ouch. I stared back at him, not really knowing how to answer that. "Well, I won't," I finally said lamely.

"Well, thank you kindly, Evans," Potter said lightly, and we resumed walking once more.

I roughly forced the guilt that was building in me back down. To distract myself, I said, "Although, you have given me a lot to think about. I can't imagine how many rules you've broken without anyone being the wiser."

"No, I don't imagine you can," Potter said with a wry smile, as though he was sharing an inside joke with himself. The smile quickly dropped from his face, however, to be replaced by an uncharacteristically troubled look.

"What?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Nothing," Potter said, smirking at me in his usual way once more. "Well, see you around, Evans," he said abruptly, turning back the way we'd come. As I turned to watch him, he ducked through a tapestry we'd passed moments before and was gone.

That was weird, I thought, frowning. Did he mean to go that way, and only just realize he'd accidentally passed it? But that doesn't really fit—it seemed more like he ran away, which isn't like him at all. I puzzled over it for a few moments longer, shrugged, and continued on my way. I'd almost forgotten that I was supposed to be doing rounds. As I turned up a corridor at random, a more disturbing thought struck me: I'd successfully had a conversation with Potter without shouting at him, and I'd kind of enjoyed it.

OOOOOOOO

"So . . . you're friends now?" Mary asked slowly as we got ready for bed that evening. I'd just finished telling her what had happened on rounds, though I'd left out the part about Snape, Mulciber and Avery—no need to worry her, after all. Instead, I'd told her Potter had brought up Snape and the incident he'd nearly witnessed after the Quidditch game without prompting. Mary hadn't questioned it, though she seemed unnecessarily confused about our subsequent conversation.

"What? No!" I said emphatically. "Haven't you been—why do you always blow things out of proportion?" I asked, feeling an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu.

Mary must have been reminded of our fight in Hogsmeade as well, because she looked at me warily and said, "Hey, now, we've already had this fight. And like I said then, I'm just trying to—"

"Figure me out, yeah, I know." The springs of my mattress let out a protesting squeak as I sat on the edge of my bed. "Am I really that complicated?" I added with a smirk.

"Apparently," Mary grumbled, flopping down on her bed as well. "At least when it comes to James."

"Is it really that hard to believe I wouldn't turn him in?" I asked abruptly. Potter's comment was still bothering me.

Mary just raised her eyebrows.

I lay back on my pillow with a sigh. "Am I a horrible person?" I whispered.

Mary laughed. "Oh, come on, Lily, don't be so dramatic! And since when do you care how you've treated James or what he thinks of you?"

I rolled over on my side to glare at her. "I don't."

She grinned back. "You know, if you didn't bring him up so often, I'd be less inclined to develop all these theories that you hate so much."

"I don't bring him up that often!" I protested.

"Whatever you say, Lil," Mary said mildly.

"Okay, good night," I said pointedly, yanking my hangings closed to shut her out. Unfortunately, they did nothing to block her answering giggle.

I lay awake for a while, thinking. I'd come up with two points of consideration: One, I obviously felt some sort of guilt for how I'd treated Potter over the years, which meant that he hadn't deserved all that I'd said and done to him. That led me to the second point, which was—once again—determining the truth behind Mary's latest theory.

By the time I finally dropped off to sleep, I'd reached a solid conclusion: whether Potter had never been completely horrible, and I was only noticing it now, or whether he'd turned over a new leaf, I'd continued to treat him as I always had. I cringed, because this also led me to admit that Mary had been right—I hadn't changed my behavior because I couldn't accept that it might be necessary. Furthermore, that change was far too strange to consider, because I had a feeling it was something in the realm of friendship. And Potter and I simply were not, nor would we ever be, friends.

OOOOOOOO

I spent most of the next day—Halloween—trying to convince myself of that fact. Okay, 'trying' really isn't the right word, since it wasn't that hard a thing to prove. First, I was treated at breakfast to the fabulously reinstated Potter-Chloe snogging sessions. I'd nearly forgotten they were dating, having seen little of Chloe over the past few days.

I sighed nostalgically as I sat down across from Mary. "And here I thought he might have dumped her," I said wistfully. "But, alas, it seems she's returned to steal my appetite once again."

Mary snorted. "Yeah, I don't really see what he's getting out of the relationship."

"That, apparently," I said, gesturing at the pair of them, lips still locked together. Yes, I definitely couldn't be friends with someone who was dating such an insufferable person. Especially when Potter was the other person in that relationship. He's bad enough on his own. "Honestly, I don't know why his friends don't just tell him to chuck her," I mused aloud.

"Well, I think at least one of them has," Mary said, nodding significantly down the table.

Glancing over again, I saw what she meant—Black was once again absent from the Marauder's group. Looks like Potter can either have him or her. I couldn't believe that was actually a difficult choice for him. I mean, I didn't enjoy Black's company, but he was Potter's best mate—it should be a no-brainer, right?

"Makes you feel bad for Sirius, doesn't it?" Mary asked, obviously thinking along the same lines as I.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Well, almost."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Lily, I'm starting to think that maybe you were right. Maybe you are a horrible person."

I threw a bit of toast at her. "And you are a horrible friend!"

"Come on, you know I was kidding! Besides, even you have to admit Sirius doesn't deserve to be replaced by Chloe," she said, wrinkling her nose for emphasis.

Can't argue with that, as I recently came to the same conclusion, I thought ruefully. "Fine," I said grudgingly. Glancing at my watch, I stood up, swinging my bag over my shoulder. "Well, time for Potions." As I made to turn from the table, I nearly ran into Chloe as she and Potter were passing. She shot me a dirty look, which I didn't even dignify with an eye roll in response. Instead, I glanced at Potter, and was surprised at the drawn look on his face. Somehow, it reminded me of his hasty departure last night, and I wondered again what was bothering him. He'd never been troubled about anything as far as I knew; in fact, he was generally carefree to the point of imprudence.

"Hey, Potter," I said, partially in an attempt to be civil towards him and partially to annoy Chloe further. I certainly succeeded in the second—Chloe dropped Potter's hand as though it had burned her and stalked away in a huff. In retrospect, it was strange that my greeting had bothered her so much; after all, Potter and I were on a strictly last name basis with each other, hardly something to be concerned about.

Potter paused briefly to shoot me a quick smile before hurrying after Chloe. He attempted to grab her hand again when he reached her, but she yanked it out of reach and said something angrily to him. They argued the rest of the way out of the Great Hall.

Mary and I walked into the Entrance Hall and headed for our dungeon classroom. "Well, looks like that relationship is on its way out, thank God," Mary said.

I made a noncommittal noise in my throat, distracted by a new point in my why-Potter-and-I-can't-be-friends argument. Friends definitely called each other by their first names, and I couldn't even do that in my head.

OOOOOOOO

The Halloween feast was one of my favorites at Hogwarts. I wasn't really sure why; Halloween had always been my favorite holiday, so I suppose it had something to do with reconnecting to my Muggle roots. Anyway, when I entered the Great Hall and took in the floating jack-o-lanterns and live bats fluttering around the ceiling, I couldn't help but smile.

"Merlin, I'm starving!" Mary said as we sat down.

"Well, lucky for you, we just so happen to be at a feast," I told her with a cheeky smile.

Mary gave me an exasperated look. "Wow, thanks," she said dryly.

Before I could reply, something unprecedented in my career at Hogwarts happened. Sirius Black sat down beside me. I looked at him half in shock and half in annoyance. "What are you doing?" I asked testily.

"Well, let's see," Black replied, pretending to deliberate the matter. "I'm sitting, breathing, thinking, talking to y—"

"I meant," I cut in, knowing he'd drag this out as long as possible just to be annoying, "what are you doing here? You never sit with us," I added, in order to make my point abundantly clear.

"So there's no time like the present to start, eh?" Black said cheerfully.

Unfortunately, I didn't agree. "Well, I'd really rather you didn't," I said, none too kindly.

Black raised an eyebrow. "No need to be so harsh, Evans."

"Why? Do you think you deserve better treatment from me based on the kindness you've shown me over the years?" I asked sarcastically. "For instance, might I remind you that at the beginning of this year, you implied that anyone who looked at my face would be likely to lose their lunch, so—"

"Actually, it was dinner, I believe," Sirius interjected with a smirk.

I resisted the urge to smack it off his handsome face and continued, "So you shouldn't be surprised that I wouldn't want to be in your presence any longer than necessary."

"First, we both know that you could give a steaming pile of hippogriff dung about any insults I may throw at you"—I gave a derisive snort at his choice of words, which Black ignored—"and second, I think you are projecting a tad, my dear."

I looked at him incredulously. "Projecting what?"

"Your feelings about Prongs onto me. And I don't appreciate it," he explained with a mockingly stern look.

It took me a minute to figure out who he was talking about—the Marauder's nicknames for each other had never made sense to me. When I did, I snorted again. "Right, like you're one to talk. You and Potter aren't even—" I stopped abruptly, realizing something. Is that why he's here? I thought suddenly. Because he and Potter are fighting? Merlin, they must really not be getting on, if he'd rather spend time with me. Although, he probably just misses annoying me, since that used to be his and Potter's favorite pastime.

Mary, who had been watching Black's and my exchange with increasing amusement, spoke up. "If I may interject something here—" she started.

"What about James and I?" Black interrupted sharply. He was watching me with an uncharacteristically hard look on his face. His failure to use his best mate's nickname was not lost on me either.

"I just—it—" I stuttered, but was luckily saved from having to answer by the loud explosion that sounded just then above our heads.

A couple of people screamed or ducked in surprise, and everyone looked up at the enchanted ceiling for the source. Multicolored sparks were fading from the sky, but they were quickly replaced with more as another firework exploded above us. The explosions continued for a good five minutes, causing many appreciative exclamations from the students below. It was a rather impressive display: in addition to the standard starburst, there were also bats, pumpkins, cackling ghosts, and black cats; these later four flew, swooped or ran about in the sky for a bit before disappearing in a shower of sparks.

What was strange was that the fireworks didn't appear to be shooting up from the ground. Instead, they came arcing across the sky, almost as if they were coming from . . . I guess I just found out what Potter was doing up in the Astronomy Tower last night, I thought, amused despite myself. After all, this prank—if you could even call it that—centered around my favorite holiday, so I couldn't hold too much of a grudge against it.

In a strange turn of events, Sirius did not share my sentiments one bit. In fact, when I finally looked away from the ceiling and back at him, the thunderous look in his eyes was actually quite frightening. I made a mental note never to truly piss him off. Forgetting our half-finished conversation, Black stood and strode over to Potter, pulling him round by the shoulder none too gently. I couldn't hear what they were saying to each other, but it didn't look like a pleasant conversation. It was also short, and ended with Black striding angrily from the Hall and Potter turning back to his friends with that same tired look on his face he'd had at breakfast.

As Black passed me, I heard him mutter, "Prick," contemptuously under his breath. Are Black and I actually of one mind about Potter? I thought incredulously to myself. This year just keeps getting stranger and stranger.

A/N: In writing this story, I've discovered that I enjoy writing Lily/Sirius stuff almost as much as Lily/James! Er, not in a dating relationship type way, just to clarify. But their interactions are amusing to invent ;) Next chapter in a week….

Also, random thought, but something that I just realized this week (and some of you will probably be like, um, yeah, where have you been for the past ... how ever many years it's been since I could have figured this out): Snape taught Tonks at Hogwarts. Whoa. How strange is that? It still weirds me out, even writing this...