Disclaimer: I don't own what I don't own. JKR and Suzanne Collins do.

A/N: Shhhh, we're gonna pretend it hasn't taken me ages to update okay? Okay. As always, reviews are the best. - Sie

Part 4

"Her Patronus was what?"

James sighed. "A doe, Padfoot."

"A doe," Sirius repeated. "Mate, you've got to know what this means."

"It doesn't mean anything."

"Right, because I'm sure she knows loads of blokes who have a stag Patronus. Her soul mate could be any one of them." Sirius paused, leaning against his bed-post as though he needed the extra support. "Soul mates. Bloody soul mates, Prongs."

"Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? The only connection I see our souls having is that they'll both be carted off to Merlin-knows-where when we both end up dead in that arena."

Sirius' eyebrows furrowed. "Shit, Prongs. You've gotten morbid."

"I'm realistic. I always have been."

The dormitory fell overwhelmingly silent.

"What are you going to do, James?" Sirius asked quietly, with a slight hesitation.

Every possible course of action raced though James' head, fumbling over one another, each one more impossible than the next. He knew that either he or Lily or both of them would have to die in this tournament. At the most, only one of them could come out alive. Did this information really change anything?

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

It was dangerous to be wandering the corridors this late at night – even more so to be wandering them alone. If he were to run into any of the patrollers (students hand-picked by Voldemort himself), they were certain to get creative in their punishment of the young Gryffindor before entering his name dozen or so times for the next year's Reaping. Even the cover of his invisibility cloak provided little relief from the fear of discovery.

But James had woken up in the middle of the night and he needed to move, needed to think, and – probably most importantly – needed a bloody cigarette, and that ultimately trumped the looming risk of getting caught.

He had spent the better part of an hour on the top of the Astronomy Tower, alone with his thoughts and half of a pack of smokes. He was a few months shy of his fifteenth birthday and, despite his apparent growth spurt, he was still short enough that he could stretch out on his back and the invisibility cloak would cover him comfortably and then some. Some nights, he would bring a golden snitch with him and let it fly until it was nearly out of reach, then snatch it back before it got away.

It had been years since James Potter had played Quidditch. It was before the war was anything other than a distant threat; a mere whisper on the lips of the oldest wizarding families, exchanged at parties in idle chatter.

His eyes were glued to a map of Hogwarts that displayed the movements of every wizard on the castle's grounds. The path to the Gryffindor tower was clear, but a name hovered in a seventh floor supplies closet. It wasn't a very good spot to hide – it was too close to the dormitory, too small of a space to hide if suddenly discovered, and far too obvious of a place to hide, but James suspected that Lily Evans was lacking in rule-breaking experience.

He had known Lily from a distance. Interactions between purebloods and those of a lesser blood status were limited. The school was segregated, but James would try to take notice of her at every chance he could – during meals, studying in the library, break periods in the common room. He reveled in those moments, replaying every stolen glance, and attempting to pinpoint what it was that he could see in her to make him keep looking.

James quickened his pace, unintentionally shifting his destination to the closet. His eyes glued to the map, he saw a second dot moving on the page – "Stuart Mulciber" – too close to the supply closet where Lily was hiding.

"Shit."

James took off in a quiet sprint. He reached the door, consulting the map quickly. Mulciber was in a corridor that ended with the hallway where James stood and he hadn't rounded the corner yet. Taking a deep breath, James slipped into the closet.

A small candle was lit and Lily sat, mouth agape and eyes wide, in its glow. She cradled a book between her knees and her left hand, though empty, was curled as though she should be conducting an orchestra.

Or holding a wand.

James pulled off the invisibility cloak and Lily let out a small squeak. He pressed a finger to his lips and hissed softly. "Someone's coming," he whispered.

Lily nodded, so he bent down and blew out her candle. Then he slid onto the floor next to her, throwing his invisibility cloak over them. They sat silently in the dark. James' heart pounded in his ears. Lily was shaking, her legs gliding across his rapidly. He fumbled in the dark until his hand found hers and clasped over it. He squeezed gently and took a deep, slow breath in, releasing his grip and his breath at the same time. It was a calming technique his mother used on him when he was a child. He sensed Lily relaxing, her breathing steadying.

The door opened and James watched Lily's hand cover her own mouth to keep herself from crying out. Mulciber hovered over them, merely footsteps away from discovery.

Time stood still.

Mulciber frowned.

James' hands were sweating. Lily's legs stopped shaking.

Mulciber backed away and closed the door.

James exhaled.

"Than –"Lily started, but James turned his head sharply and stared at her, one finger extended toward the door. He focused his energy to a nonverbal "Lumos." A surge of energy poured through his hand and into his wand, splashing a soft light onto his map, where he watched Mulciber pace the hallway before finally rounding a corner away from their corridor.

He removed the cloak from the two of them and eased himself onto his feet. He glanced at Lily, who was still visibly on edge, The book in her lap caught James' attention – it was an old copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five. She was in here learning magic?

A wave of guilt washed over James. Here he stood, with an enchanted map of the castle, a cloak of invisibility, his wand, and an arsenal of curses just to sneak out for a smoke. Even if he were caught, his punishment would be a slap on the wrist compared to what they're do to Lily for sneaking out to learn magic.

Lily was the bravest witch he knew.

And that was it, he realized. That was why he kept looking.

James dropped the cloak next to her. Then he opened the door and dropped his wand. Before Lily could say anything, he took off toward the boys' dormitory.

If Lily understood what the form of her Patronus meant, she kept it well hidden from James. The next day's training passed without incidents, though the look Regulus was giving James the entire time suggested that he was a flick of the wrist away from a nonverbal killing curse.

Lucius had the champions working on Reducto, a spell James had mastered during his fourth year. After receiving his tap on the shoulder, he went to examine a station called "Survival Spells." It was there James was, water pouring from the tip of his wand, when Voldemort entered the room.

The doors flew open by magic and the room froze. He strode to the center of the room in languid sweeping movements. Everyone went silent, waiting for Voldemort to speak, but he took his time to craft his words.

"It has been decided," he began (as though anyone else was involved in the decision making), "that this year, the champions will be living apart from each other and the other students. This is a measure to prevent further…conflicts."

James noticed Voldemort sneering at Regulus, who was staring back with as much ferocity. Voldemort broke contact first, his eyes the landing on James. He felt his mouth go dry and forced himself to look back into those red eyes.

"You will vacate your current dormitories immediately following this training session. Your new rooms will be waiting."

Voldemort exited the room without acknowledging anyone else. A few minutes passed before anyone returned to their training.

A small Hufflepuff boy crossed over to the Survival Spells station. James remembered that they were in the same year, but couldn't recall the boy's name. He was short and scrawny, his brown hair wild on top of his head. He reminded James of Peter.

"Our own dormitories?" the Hufflepuff said to James. "That's different."

James didn't know how to reply.

"Right. I should probably introduce myself first. I'm Reginald Cattermole." He stuck out his palm and James took it. Reginald's grip was weak.

"James."

"I know." James tensed. "I mean, after that scene at the Reaping, how could I not?"

He dropped Reginald's hand like their sweat was acid.

"Ah, sorry. I probably shouldn't have brought that up. I have a hard time thinking before I speak."

"It's alright." James flipped through the pages of 50 Spells to Save Your Life without really reading up on any of the spells. Reginald occupied the space next to him, giving him pointed looks every few seconds.

"Anything I can help you with, Reg?"

Reginald's eyes lit up. "Reg? I like that." He smiled to himself for a moment. "Right. So I saw you help Lily Evans with her Patronus yesterday and I was wondering if you could help me in the same way?" He shifted on his feet nervously.

Something suddenly clicked into place with James.

"Cattermole, did you say? That's a pureblood family, isn't it?"

"Yes," Reg admitted, lowering his voice, "though, we're not exactly like, well, You-Know-Who." He straightened himself. "Anyway, I'm a bit of an embarrassment to the family name. Mum thought I was a squib, until I got angry enough at her to turn her into a rabbit. I was trying to turn her into a pygmy puff, but I didn't tell her that. All I'm really good for is cleaning spells and I don't think I'm going to wash anyone to death in the arena."

The joke hung in the air around them, reminding them of their new reality.

"So I figure the best I can do for my mum is to not die right away and to try to not be helpless. There's no way I'm going to win, but this way she won't think I'm a total failure. What do you think?"

He looked Reginald up and down. Blokes like him never lasted long in the tournament, he was right about that.

James thought of the number of curses he'd thrown to defend Peter. He thought of the Reaping, of volunteering to save Sirius. He thought of leaving himself defenseless so that Lily could stay safe. James wasn't sure he could win the House Cup, but the concept wasn't entirely out of reach; the thought of winning was never even a possibility for Reg. He just wanted to stay alive long enough to make his mum proud.

Truth be told, he'd sacrificed himself for less already. James could have a worse ally.

"Yeah. I'll help you."

James woke before his friends the next morning. On his nightstand were his invisibility cloak, neatly folded, and his wand, resting on top. He hurried to hide them away, grabbing the cloak and unraveling it from its fold. A small piece of parchment fluttered out of the cloak and to the ground.

A note.

He imagined the hundreds of questions Lily must have for him, for he had a list of questions for the young witch himself. He unfolded the note, hoping she'd want to meet again, this time intentionally. She knew about the cloak, so they could sneak out together and find a better spot to hide.

In tidy handwriting too small for the strip of parchment were two words:

Thank you.