A/N: Long and important. I'm really not sure if I like this...
Disclaimer: yeah, right. I don't own a thing.
Previously: Lily decides to reconcile with Snape. Carlotta Meloni tells Lily that she kissed Frank Longbottom over the holidays and hopes that Frank will pursue a relationship with her.
Chapter 7- Failures of Courage
Or
"Smoke Gets In Your Eyes"
"I've decided," Severus Snape told Nicolai Mulciber, late Friday evening.
Mulciber glanced up from his Transfiguration homework. "Have you?" he said, emotion or even concern indecipherable in his tone.
"Yes," said Snape. "I've decided I'm going."
Mulciber nodded. "I'm glad. You're a smart bloke, you know."
Severus did know. He looked into the dark Slytherin Common Room's dying fire. "What time do we leave?"
"Meet here by half past eleven, tomorrow night," replied the other.
Nodding slowly and feeling that it was very important, Snape said: "I'll be here."
(The First Conversation)
On a lesser level, it was just a Friday. It was Halloween, and it rained, and Quidditch practice for Gryffindor was canceled. But otherwise, it was really a shockingly average Halloween (on a lesser level). No one in Hogwarts ended up in the Hospital Wing, no one got pregnant, no one dropped out of school, and no one was expelled. Classes commenced as they usually did, and life just sort of went on. On a lesser level.
On that Friday, Severus Snape conducted two brief conversations with Nicolai Mulciber, Lily Evans was partnered with James Potter in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Mary Macdonald met a Hufflepuff, the Quidditch Captain read a letter from his mother at lunch hour, Herbology passed much as it usually did (with Mary Macdonald rejecting a Ravenclaw), Lily Evans had a conversation with the Head Boy, and she learned that James Potter smoked too much. It was, on a lesser level, just a very normal day.
In the grand scheme of things, that Friday Halloween turned out to be very important. Lily didn't realize it at the time, and neither did James, but Severus Snape did. In fact, he realized it the first moment he step foot in the Slytherin Common Room that morning.
"Snape," said Nicolai Mulciber's voice, as the boy approached him. He drew close and in a confidential manner said: "Avery, Hester, and I are going out tomorrow night."
"Going out?" echoed Snape dryly. "How romantic."
"We're meeting Malfoy," Mulciber coldly elaborated, and before his housemate could needlessly inquire as to why, he added: "This is what we've been waiting for. I don't have to explain it, do I, Severus?"
Snape shook his head. His stomach twisted uncomfortably.
"Are you coming?" asked Mulciber. Severus didn't want to go, or rather, he did want to go, but wished that he didn't.
"I'll think about it," said Snape, and he went down to breakfast.
(Lily is Partnered With James in Defense Class)
First period Defense Against the Dark Arts class started out torturously. Lily had known it would from the moment she walked through the door and felt the prospect of sitting still for eighty minutes choking her. She took a seat beside Donna and waited, her foot tapping anxiously against the ground. Donna tried to ask her what made her so anxious, but Lily insisted that she "couldn't say."
Truthfully, her mind had not been her own for days. Torment and indecision had plagued her like a raincloud: a grey, timeless little question hanging overhead. To tell or not to tell...
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Would you stop that?" James Potter snapped.
The way her day was turning out, Lily realized that she should not have been surprised when, upon his entrance, Professor Black announced that they would all partner up, and would every student whose surname began with the letters A through L please come and draw a name? She should not have been surprised, when it was statistically more probable that she choose a friend (Shacklebolt, Snape, Macdonald, Price, McKinnon...) than an enemy (Potter, for instance), that the slip of parchment she drew would contain the name of someone belonging to the latter category.
Such, however, was the case and the reason why, fifteen minutes into class, it was James Potter sharing the desk with her instead of Donna, and it was James Potter griping about her incessant foot tapping.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Would you stop that?"
"No," she retorted, uncharacteristically annoyed. After all, he hadn't really done anything.
"Well, have you at least finished your part of the essay?"
"I've only been at it for ten minutes," defended Lily.
"I'll take that as a 'no?'" James looked at her paper before she could cover it up. "You've barely written a paragraph. Look, I'm almost done." He showed her nearly a foot of scroll covered in untidy script.
"You have the easier part," replied the prefect. "Anyone can write a lot about the effects of the Imperius. The history requires research."
"Information you would already have, if you'd done the assigned reading."
"Who are you? Professor McGonagall? I did do the assigned reading, Potter. I just can't remember ever single detail off the top of my head."
"Well, maybe..."
"Well maybe," Lily interrupted, "we should stop talking, and you should let me get back to work."
James shrugged and returned to his own half of their assignment, putting the finishing touches on the essay. Lily, meanwhile, chewed the back of her quill, as she tried to concentrate.
The earliest incident in which the Imperius Curse was officially cited as directly linked to a fatality occurred in St. Petersburg in 1908, and... and... and... and...
And?
She'd been going somewhere with that sentence, but where? Maybe Frank was under the Imperius...
Tap. Tap. Tap.
James set down his quill, turning once again to his desk-mate. "Evans."
"What?" She noticed her nervous foot. "Oh."
"What's wrong?" he demanded, running one thin hand through his black hair. "I'm serious: the sooner you just let it out, the sooner I no longer have to fight off the urge to strangle you." (Not that any such urge actually existed at this moment, but that was neither—as they say—here nor there.)
"I just... I can't concentrate," replied Lily, sighing. "Sorry, I'll try to be..."
"What's wrong?" James repeated. "C'mon, Snaps, just tell me."
Lily also set her quill down and rested her chin in the palm of one hand. "I... can't."
"Evans..."
"I'm serious, I can't. I can't. I can't. I... I know something." She whispered this, and James arched an eyebrow.
"Why are you whispering?" he asked (in a whisper). "There's no one around us, and no one's paying attention anyway." It was true; with Black's partnerships in place, the whole room was abuzz with collaborative discussion, and the desks directly around Lily and James were unoccupied in any case. Their conversation did appear private.
"Because I want to," replied Lily unoriginally. She scowled.
"So what is it?"
"What?'
"What is it that you know?"
"I told you: I can't tell you. Are you even paying attention?"
"Well," said James, "you clearly need to tell someone... I recommend a good psych-healer. This thing is eating you alive. And it's giving me a headache." He indicated to her tapping foot.
"It is eating me alive," Lily sighed, massaging her forehead dismally. "I just don't know what to do."
"Well, I would tell you what to do," replied her partner, "if you would just tell me what it is you know."
Lily shook her head. "It's not that simple."
"So... it's a secret?"
"Sort of. I don't know. I just... someone told me something... and it was in confidence, but the thing that this person told me involves someone else, and I'm not sure if I should tell that someone else that it involves."
"If you were told something in confidence, you shouldn't tell," said James. "That really isn't too difficult."
"But it's not that..."
"Simple," he finished knowingly.
"Right." Lily bit her lip, considering the matter for a moment. "Alright, so, let's suppose that you had a girlfriend..."
"Why?"
"Just go with it. Let's suppose you had a girlfriend..."
"A very attractive girlfriend."
"Yes, a very attractive girlfriend that you like a lot."
"Okay. I've supposed it."
"So, suppose this girlfriend, sort of... kissed someone else, while she was dating you..."
"Unlikely. Practically impossible, really."
"Right, but this girlfriend of yours, she's... slightly tipsy and undergoing some sort of existential crisis, so she kisses this other bloke when she's on holiday... it's one of those things that just happens, and then she immediately regrets the whole thing. It's not some kind of ongoing, sordid affair... just a one-time slip up. Would you want to know about it?"
James turned this over in his head several times, and then asked: "It was really just one time? And there were no... complicated feelings or any of that rubbish?"
"Well..." Lily bit her lip. "Maybe, just maybe, the bloke kissed your girlfriend again, and she kissed him back, but then she ran away and was perfectly solid to you."
"Two kisses and some conflicted emotions?" asked James. "I would definitely want to know. First, so I can knock one to the bloke, and second so I can break up with my tart girlfriend."
"But she's not a tart! She's an angel! She's wonderful and sweet and sensitive and you've been dating for a really, really long time!"
James raised his eyebrows, leaning in with an intrigued smirk. "Did you cheat on Harper, Snaps?"
She slapped him lightly. "No. This isn't about me. Stop laughing, Potter. This isn't about me. It wasn't even a bird who cheated—it was the bloke, if you must know."
"I see," said the Quidditch Captain, nodding slowly. "Say, it wasn't Marlene Price's bloke, was it? I could definitely see him slagging around with some tart..."
"No. Now stop guessing! I have to do this essay..." She tried to return to the assignment, but James grabbed her arm.
"Wait, no, I'll be serious. So this mystery couple—the bloke, he went away on holiday and just... ran into this other bird by accident, right? It wasn't planned?"
"Of course not."
"And he's a good chap?"
"Yes, definitely."
"So he accidentally kisses a bird and repents, but later on she kisses him again and he... possibly reciprocates a bit?"
"Yes," said Lily. "And then, the witch that he's kissing, she... she tells me that she's got serious feelings for this bloke, and she thinks something could happen. However, from what I can personally observe of the situation, it seems like he wants to move on and forget the whole thing."
James nodded slowly. "You can't keep this a secret, Evans. You've got to tell."
"But if he's really, truly penitent, I might break up a great couple without any real reason!"
"There is a real reason," protested the other. "He kissed another bird... twice."
"But if it's in the past..."
"It's not in the past if his girlfriend doesn't know that he's capable of doing something like this, is it? It's an unresolved issue that requires resolution."
Lily chewed the back of her quill. "You might be right," she admitted presently. "But I really, really don't want to tell her the truth... I mean, she really loves him, and he's not a bad person, but..."
"Snaps," interrupted James, "you shouldn't tell the girlfriend."
"I shouldn't? But you said..."
"This bloke—is he a friend of yours?"
Lily nodded.
"Then you should talk to him. You don't want to confuse the facts or start a huge fight over something you heard secondhand, right? But at the same time, it's obviously important enough that you can't just dismiss it. So you have to get the facts—talk to him, see what he says, and then form a judgment. Tell him you know all about everything and see what he's got to say about it. If he's really so upright, then he'll confess. But let's face it, you shouldn't be the one who tells the bird that her boyfriend kissed another girl... not if they're really so mad about each other as you're letting on. So don't do anything drastic. Just... talk to him."+
James finished and expectantly awaited her response, but Lily's sheer surprise delayed articulation for a moment. Finally, she brushed a flyaway strand of wavy red hair from her eyes and nodded. "You're right. That's... good advice. Thank-you."
He bowed his head a little and returned to his essay. Lily did the same.
For decades, the inception of the Imperius Curse has been attributed to the efforts of the German government, who hoped to eliminate the variable of human will in late nineteenth century military exploits. However, even earlier reports of...
...That was solid advice Potter gave... surprisingly solid. Why was it he could be so nice, and then seconds later prove himself to be such a bloody git? Why was it that...
...even earlier reports of "controlling" spells, which manipulated and even disarmed the free will of the victim, have been uncovered in China, India, and parts of...
...Strangest of all, there existed so little perceptible difference between mean, moody Potter and helpful, honest Potter. The inflection in his voice barely shifted, and yet the two personalities had such opposite effects...
...parts of South Africa. The incantation "Imperio" did not officially appear until 1902, published in an American newspaper as the discovery of...
...But wasn't it possible that the real Potter was the genuine, charismatic, entertaining one, and the other one was just...
...a German immigrant, who was later reported to have stolen the information from the government project to which he contributed. The "Imperio" incantation proved to be far more powerful than its early predecessors, such as "Untersuchen!" and "Atakku!" However, at the time of its discovery, the "Imperio" spell was also, falsely, believed to be invincible: that is, no person subjected to this magic could overcome the effects...
...a coating of immaturity?
"Finished," announced James, causing Lily to start. He glanced at her parchment. "Well, at least you've made progress."
"Can I ask you something?" said Lily, setting down her quill. He raised his eyebrows again, and she interpreted that as affirmation. "Don't take this the wrong way... I'm not trying to blame you or anything, okay? I'm just... I just want to know why you didn't confess to McGonagall about the fight in the Entrance Hall."
After some time, James—with bitter humor—responded: "You want an excuse, don't you? I don't have one, though. I don't have a good reason that makes it all go away. It was just... I was just being a git. That's all there was to it."
"I don't believe that," she told him, before he could turn away. "I think there's a reason. There has to be a reason."
"Why does there have to be a reason?" he demanded, frustrated. Lily sighed.
"Because, you... you hit him. You hit Mulciber. You just appeared out of nowhere and dislocated his jaw, and that's not consistent with someone who cares about consequences. It doesn't... fit."
James breathed heavily. He seemed to labor over something in his mind for nearly a minute before at last opting to speak. "Have you ever heard of the seventy-five rule, Snaps?" he asked. She shook her head. "It's an old Hogwarts rule. Really old, and it doesn't come up a lot. The... uh... the thing is, this rule—the seventy-five rule—says that if a student receives seventy-five detentions, he or she has to go before the faculty and... and they vote whether or not the student should be expelled."
"So, you're saying that..."
"I have seventy-four detentions," he interrupted. Lily's eyes grew wide.
"Seventy four? That's... a lot. I have five."
James wasn't surprised. Smirking bitterly, he said: "Anyway, that's the truth. If I'd confessed to punching Mulciber I would have been in danger being expelled, and... I was afraid that I'd get a detention." This he pronounced with stringent irony, and he watched her for a reaction. "Not exactly heroic, yeah?"
"The faculty loves you, Potter," said Lily, ignoring his last words. "Even Slughorn loves you, and you're not particularly brilliant at Potions. Then there's Flitwick, McGonagall, to say nothing of Dumbledore, and Puttman and probably Black, too... you've got some of the best marks in the class. I'm sure they'd vote in your favor."
"Snaps... the only other two people who reached seventy-five detentions were expelled. It's just... expected. It wouldn't matter if they liked me. The staff would feel obliged to..."
"Why didn't you just tell me? Or Black, or Remus, or anyone?"
James frowned, bewildered. "Why would I?"
Lily looked at him as though the answer were appallingly obvious. "Because any one of us would have gladly taken the fall! I mean, I did it just so Gryffindor wouldn't loose points—of course I would have done it to stop you from being kicked out."
"But... wait... what?"
"Well, don't you believe me?"
"Why would you stop me from being expelled? You don't even like me. Actually, don't you kind of hate me? I'm the 'bullying toerag' who always bothered your best mate!"
"You've bothered me a fair bit, too," Lily reminded him. "And maybe there are times when I wouldn't mind seeing you kicked out, but you... you socked Mulciber. And he deserved it. Maybe it was poorly timed and ill-thought-out, but... you don't deserve to be expelled for that."
The Quidditch Captain blinked. "I don't... I mean, I don't really understand you. But... thank-you. I guess."
"You're welcome." She looked down at her essay.
"Do you need help finishing?" he asked.
"No, I just have one or two more paragraphs, I think. It shouldn't take too long." James merely nodded in reply, before returning his eyes to his own half of the essay, which he began to reread. With her eyes on her paper, Lily softly added: "And I don't hate you."
...
"Oh. Okay."
(Mary Macdonald Meets a Hufflepuff)
Mary Macdonald was having a bad day. She'd worn an orange scarf in celebration of the holiday, and already it had nearly fallen off into her potion twice. She'd tripped on her way down to breakfast, and now one of her knees had a cut on it. She felt as though she weighed three hundred pounds for no apparent reason, and her school skirt seemed to be a little tighter and shorter that morning. Also, she'd wanted to be paired with Sirius Black or Donovan Atwater, and had, instead, ended up with some pokey Hufflepuff.
In no particular mood to be polite, Mary decided she ought to be forthright with her partner—the large eyed boy who stared too much and hung around with Adam McKinnon from time to time—and thus, as he withdrew his potions supplies, Mary turned to him and said: "I wanted to be partnered with Donovan Atwater."
The Hufflepuff blinked. "Oh."
"I thought that you should know."
"Oh."
"Because Donovan Atwater is excellent in potions, and I'm horrid, and we haven't talked all week, Donovan and I."
"Oh."
Mary pulled her perfectly glossed lips into a frown. "Is that all you have to say?" she asked (it was a very bad day). "'Oh?'"
The Hufflepuff's eyes grew—if possible—wider. "I'm... sorry?"
Mary sighed. He wasn't a hideous chap, though by no means good-looking. He had a narrow chin and a lot of non-descript brown hair, cut (or rather uncut) like one of the Monkees, so that it mostly covered his ears and flirted with the collar of his oxford shirt. He had freckles and decent teeth, and a long, thin nose. He looked positively terrified of the exceptionally pretty Mary Macdonald.
She took pity on him. "It's not your fault," she allowed, somewhat guiltily. "I've just... I've just had a rotten day, I suppose. I really wanted to be partners with Donovan Atwater... and now he's paired up with that tart Alexa Kyle."
"Alexa Kyle isn't a tart!" said the boy, reaching what must have been a personal record, volume-wise. "She's really nice, actually, and she tutored me in Transfiguration in fourth year!"
It was Mary's turn to blink confusedly. "Fine," she said, "but right now she's partnered with Donovan Atwater, and he doesn't look terribly unhappy about it, so she's a tart!"
"But she's not." He clearly did not understand the situation. They were both quiet for a moment, before the Hufflepuff continued: "So is Donovan Atwater your... your boyfriend or something?"
"I don't know," Mary admitted. "I mean, no, I suppose not. We went on a date this weekend, and... well... let's just say I haven't had any updates since then."
"You went on a date? How could you have gone on a date? There was no Hogsmeade trip or Quidditch match..." He awaited an explanation, and Mary felt herself blushing under his innocent stare. Mary never blushed.
"You don't get out much, do you?" she asked. The Hufflepuff did not understand what she referred to and consequently pretended to prepare his potions ingredients. "We... we stayed in the castle," Mary attempted to explain. And I gave it away like some kind of tart to a boy that's not even my boyfriend... "We had a really lovely time, and... I don't know, I just haven't heard from Donovan lately, so I was hoping that if I was partnered with him today, we'd have the opportunity to talk. Instead, I'm with you, and he's with that tart Alexa Kyle, and I think he likes it."
The Hufflepuff nodded. "Well," he began slowly, not meeting her eye, "if he's the one who looks happy about being partnered with Alexa Kyle, wouldn't that make him the tart? Because I know Alexa Kyle, and she's very nice. She tutored me in fourth year for Transfiguration."
"You mentioned that," said Mary. "Boys can't be tarts, though."
"I bet they can," he replied in an undertone, which caused Mary to laugh.
With one last glance across the room at Donovan Atwater, the brunette returned her attention to this strange Hufflepuff partner of hers. "What's your name, anyway?"
"Reginald." He did not appear at all surprised that she didn't know his name, though they were in the same year.
"Reginald?" Mary repeated. Perhaps she could call him by his surname. "Reginald what?"
"Cattermole. Reginald Cattermole."
Or not.
"So... what do your friends call you, Reginald Cattermole?"
"Well..." he thought about it, and there was something almost cute about his expression in this process. "Well… mostly they just call me 'Reginald.'"
"Alright then, Reg," said Mary. "We're going to have to get you a nickname."
(The Quidditch Captain Receives a Letter)
"Quidditch practice is canceled," Adam McKinnon informed Donna Shacklebolt at lunch. The Great Hall was a grey place that afternoon. Despite the glowing orange jack-o-lanterns that levitated throughout, the clouded sky seemed to envelope the entire room in a haze, as raindrops fell from the heavens without getting anything wet. At the news her teammate had just provided, Donna set down her fork and frowned.
"Where did you hear that? And why is it canceled? We have our first game in two weeks."
"Black told me to spread it around the team," Adam replied, as he took a seat beside Donna. He shrugged. "He just said that Potter had canceled practice. I don't know much more than that."
"Potter never cancels practices," noted Donna. "He schedules additional practices. It's his thing. It's why he's captain. Fanaticism."
Marlene Price, Mary Macdonald, and Lily Evans all arrived at the meal. "Donna and Adam, sitting in a tree..." chanted Mary, causing Donna to glare.
"Grow up, and go away," she said, though Mary complied with neither demand, sitting down across from the pair. Lily and Marlene imitated the gesture.
"What were you two talking about?" Marlene asked in a would-be casual tone, as she helped herself to an apple and did not meet anyone's eye.
"Potter canceled Quidditch practice," Donna informed them. "McKinnon's been spreading the word. And when did it become criminal for me to speak to him, anyway?"
"It's not criminal," said Marlene, a little more confidently. "I just thought it was odd, that's all, seeing as you never talk to blokes, Don, or... y'know... people at all."
"I talk to people!"
"People named Lily Evans," supplied Mary.
"I wonder why Potter canceled Quidditch practice," Lily interjected, fixated on that point, though she did not know why. "Not the weather, is it?"
"Potter would have us practice in a hurricane," said Adam dryly, and Donna nodded.
"He's probably in a bad mood," she said. "Now that I think of it, I saw him leaving when I came in a few minutes ago, and he looked a bit pissed. 'Course it's difficult to tell. And, Mary, I talk to a lot of people who aren't Lily."
"Like who?"
"Well... the teachers, when they ask questions in class, and..."
Her companions continued to bicker, but Lily found herself disinterested. As Donna had suggested, the Quidditch Captain was, indeed, absent from Gryffindor table, and—after a moment's internal debate—Lily stood herself. Making some excuse to her distracted friends, the prefect hastily exited the hall.
She did not really know why she felt compelled to pursue James Potter... it was something that one would do for a friend, and James was not exactly her best mate. At the same time, he'd been downright nice during Defense class... and helpful, too.
As the redhead arrived in the Entrance Hall, she was so intently searching for James that she did not notice Frank Longbottom and ran straight into him.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" cried the Head Boy, grabbing her arm so that Lily did not fall to the ground. "Are you alright?"
"Alright? Oh, yeah, I'm... listen, Frank, I have to..." Lily was torn for a moment, then continued: "I have to talk with you. A little later on... it's very important."
"Er... yeah, alright, I'm free now if you want ta..."
"I can't now. I'll see you later."
With that, Lily pulled away, moving hastily through the crowded hall. Working under the premise that James had gone to the Gryffindor Common Room, she started up the ascending staircase. As she rose higher through the castle corridors, Lily encountered fewer and fewer students. Nearly everyone had gone to lunch by the time she reached the sixth floor.
A quick glance down the corridor told her that the hallway was deserted. A second look told her otherwise, for some ways down, a figure stood, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. And it was James.
"Potter, are you alright?" Lily asked, drawing closer. He looked at her, but he did not seem to properly comprehend her presence, and Lily knew she had never seen that expression on his face before: a terrible combination of anger and anguish and confusion.
"He's... he's moving back in," said James, as though he could not grasp the words he uttered. "He's just... he's going back." Then, the Quidditch Captain was quiet, and Lily did not know how to say. All she really understood was that the look on this boy's face stung her, and she wished she'd never seen it. Suddenly, James seemed to realize he wasn't alone. He started, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. In the other hand, Lily noticed a crumpled piece of parchment. "I'm sorry," said James. "I'm sorry... I didn't... I should go."
And he hurriedly did.
(Herbology Passes Much the Way It Usually Does)
(With Mary Rejecting a Ravenclaw)
James had returned to normal by Herbology that afternoon. Or anyway, that was how it appeared. He stood with the other Marauders and, at some point, slipped a dung bomb into Samuel Avery's book bag. He finished his assignment of de-seeding a Gordyshot plant with at least two somewhat dirty cracks about the process, and he adeptly smoothed things over when Professor Puttman wanted to know why several Slytherins seemed to be exuding a horrendous odor.
It was all fairly normal, at least as far as Lily could observe, and that wasn't much. She had chosen a spot beside Marlene, and Marlene was particularly clever in Herbology, which meant that she would have no trouble noticing if Lily were distracted or even just devoting above average attention to James Potter.
Not that it mattered, for Marlene was also preoccupied with surveillance that class. The blonde had noticed that Mary Macdonald was helping a Hufflepuff boy with his Gordyshot plant.
"That boy with Mary," began Marlene, as she and Lily started to clean up, having finished collecting the necessary seeds... "he's the bloke that was with Adam that night, yeah?"
"What night?" inquired Lily, then, comprehending, continued: "Oh, you mean that chap who saw him almost... jump?" Wincing, Marlene nodded. "Yeah, that's him. His name's Reginald."
"He was Mary's partner today in Potions, right?"
"Right." Lily watched the pair. "You don't think there's something there...?"
Marlene shook her head. "I'd give Mary credit for an awful lot," she said, "but that boy is not nearly... Mary enough."
Lily shrugged. "Give her some time. She's only sixteen, and she's..."
"Pretty," finished Marlene. "I know."
Across the room, the Marauders were washing up at another sink. "Do you know what I think," began Sirius thoughtfully, "I don't think there was any such person as Merlin. I bet it was all invented... like a myth."
"Rubbish," said Remus, rolling his grey eyes. "Of course he was a real person."
"Then why is it that every painting of him has him looking different?" Sirius wanted to know. "And the voices always sound different."
"That doesn't prove anything," argued Mr. Moony. "He was an old blighter with a white beard... no one pays attention to what they really look like. The pictures were probably painted from memory."
"Or from imagination," suggested Sirius knowingly. "And that's another thing—how is it there aren't any portraits of a young Merlin. No one thinks about him as a young bloke."
"Because he didn't accomplish anything of significance as a young bloke," said Remus.
"Or because he didn't exist until someone invented him as an old chap," finished Sirius with satisfaction. Once again Remus rolled his eyes, a practice that had become something of a habit in recent years. Still debating the point with Sirius, he finished washing his hands and started back towards their table, while Padfoot followed, smirking contently. Peter stayed behind while James rubbed off the last remains of dirt from his fingernails.
"Are you alright, Prongs?" Wormtail asked. "You disappeared for a bit there at lunch. Is everything okay?"
James finished washing his hands. He dried them with a towel. "Everything's fine, Wormtail," he said, for the first time since the beginning of class betraying anything but merriment in his voice. "I'm doing fine. C'mon—I've got another dung bomb that has Mulciber's name on it."
Peter didn't argue the point.
When class ended, it was raining again, and there was something of a rush for umbrellas. Sirius Black summoned one from the castle, expanding it to encompass all four Marauders. A few cleverer students cast rain repellant charms, and as for Lily, she had brought her own umbrella down at the beginning of class. There was room to keep two students dry.
"I say let Mary fend for herself," said Marlene. "Her hair looks as perfect wet as dry... lucky wench."
"I'm just going to make sure," Lily replied, waiting for Mary to finish packing up her supplies.
Growing impatient, Marlene noticed Miles across the greenhouse and started towards him.
"Do you have an umbrella?" the blonde inquired of her boyfriend. He shook his head, indicating towards his wand.
"I've got magic, Marly," he said sarcastically. "You should try it sometime." Miles waved his wand once, muttering an incantation. "An Impervius spell," he informed her. "You won't get wet if you go out in the rain now. I'll see you at the feast tonight." With that, Miles departed.
Dispirited, Marlene returned to Lily, who was still waiting for Mary. "I'm off to the castle," said the blonde. "Impervius spell," she added in response to Lily's inquisitive look. "I'll see you in a bit." However, Marlene had not taken three steps outside, when she felt rain drops in her hair.
"Damn it," swore the blond, drawing her wand to perform her own Impervius Charm when the rain stopped. For her, at least.
"Risking the elements?" asked Adam McKinnon, appearing. He held an umbrella over her head. "Risky business there, Price."
"I had an Impervius Charm, but it must not have been a very good one," replied Marlene, gratefully stepping closer.
"Sometimes a raindrop or two can sneak through even the best Impervius charms," Adam casually consoled her.
"Well, I don't care. Miles cast the spell."
"Hmm... I guess it wasn't a very effective spell, was it?"
Marlene laughed. "No, I guess it wasn't."
Meanwhile, the Hufflepuff with whom Mary had spent class was departing with one of his housemates, and Mary herself was just on her way to rejoin a patient Lily when something—rather, someone—sidetracked her.
"Hi, there, Mary," said Donovan Atwater. He was a handsome, broad-shouldered Ravenclaw, and he approached the Gryffindor girl wearing a smile. "'Sorry if I've been distant this week... I've been a little busy lately. The weekdays are always so hectic."
"No problem, Donovan," replied Mary, and her voice had that sweet, flirty sound it often took on when she spoke to boys. "Happy Halloween."
"Happy Halloween," replied the Ravenclaw. "I like your... your scarf, there." He indicated to her spirited orange accessory, and she thanked him coyly. "So, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Halloween feast tonight with me... as a date. I had a great time on Saturday."
Mary thought about it. He had an excellent smile. She beamed at him. "That's very sweet of you, Donovan, but I've made other plans."
Taken aback: "Oh. Really? A—uh—a date?"
"No. I'm just going with Marlene and Lily and Donna," Mary told him truthfully. Why was this so... satisfying?
"Well," began Donovan, his smile resuming, "They're your dorm-mates. I bet they wouldn't mind if you spent the evening with me."
"I'm certain they wouldn't," said Mary. "But I'm not particularly interested in being a weekend project of yours." With that, the witch turned and joined Lily, who wore a curious expression.
"What was that?" she asked, as they started towards the castle. "Did Donovan Atwater ask you out again?"
Mary nodded. "I said 'no.'"
"Is that right?"
"Yes."
"I thought you liked him."
"I did."
"Then why did you say 'no?'"
Mary considered the question, and then smiled. "Because he's a tart."
Lily laughed. "A tart?" she repeated. "You've always said blokes can't be called 'tarts.'" The brunette simply shrugged. "Mary Macdonald, I think you must be evolving."
"You might be right, Lily. It had to happen eventually."
(A Word with the Head Boy)
Perhaps in an effort to distract the students of Hogwarts from the dire situations of the outside world, or perhaps to distract the students of Hogwarts from the dire situations of the school itself (Lathe's investigation had, so far, proved less than fruitful), the Halloween Feast was particularly magnificent that year. There was more food, better food, more elaborate decorations, and the ghosts performed what was supposed to be a very dramatic version of The Elder Wand fairytale, but—due to Peeves' involvement—took more than one comical turn.
When everyone was seated to start on the delicious food set out for them, Lily noticed that Luke Harper took the seat to her right. He kissed her on the cheek, and Lily realized that she had not actually spoken with her boyfriend for the last two days. She leaned over and kissed him, much more passionately, on the lips.
He smiled when they broke apart (Donna—who was nearby—rolled her eyes) and asked: "What was that for?"
Guilt, mostly. "You're a good boyfriend, that's why," Lily replied. Luke poured her a glass of pumpkin juice: an unnecessary but not altogether annoying gesture. "Why are you at this table?"
"No one pays attention to house formalities on holidays," he told her cheerfully. "You don't mind, do you?"
"No, of course not."
"Good. Of course, the food won't be quite as good as it usually is at these feasts." Luke selected a sizeable cut of ham. "They ordered from some shop in London, instead of my family's business in Hogsmeade."
Lily courteously inquired why this was done, and while Luke embarked upon the explanation, Lily spared a glance across the room to the Slytherin table. Snape wasn't looking at her, but he was seated alone. Then, with even less cause, Lily found herself searching for the Marauders. James, accompanied by the customary other three, seemed to be in perfectly good spirits. She'd had no contact with him since his strange outburst at lunch.
"...Anyway, that's what my sister said in her letter," Luke was finishing his story, and Lily nodded.
"That's..." Too bad? Good? What had he been saying? "...interesting."
"It's the business," replied Luke with a shrug. At that moment, Lily observed Frank Longbottom entering the hall, with Alice at his side. A wave of apprehension swallowed her, as she recognized that she had to confront him tonight. Luke could not help but notice his girlfriend's sudden uneasiness. "Are you alright, Lily?"
"What? Yeah, I'm fine. There's just... something I have to do. It's a... a prefect thing. I'm kind of dreading it, that's all."
"Anything I can do to help?" volunteered the Ravenclaw. Lily tore her eyes from Frank, fixing her gaze upon Luke Harper instead.
No. There really wasn't anything he could do, was there? She considered sharing some version of the story... asking his input on the situation, but then again, that just seemed unnecessary. She already knew exactly what she had to do, and she could contain herself because, to tell the truth, she'd already discussed the issue.
With James Potter.
"Frank!"
Lily caught up with the Head Boy after the feast, as students made their way up to their common rooms fit to burst with food (quiet excellent food, no matter what Luke Harper said). He smiled benignly at her, while she waited for the other students nearby to pass them on the stair.
"Hi, Lily," he greeted. "You wanted to talk to me, right? Oh, and while I have you, I was wondering—and I wouldn't normally ask this—but I was wondering if you could switch patrol shifts with Bertram Aubrey, on account of..."
"I know, Frank."
"You know...?"
In the shortest fraction of a second, Lily considered everything. She considered Alice, and she considered Carlotta's smile as they sat on the bed in the dormitory discussing her new love, and she considered how long she'd known Frank, and she considered how—back so many years ago—Frank had spent weeks, working up the courage just to speak to Alice, and she considered that she might not have this friend anymore.
"I know about Carlotta," Lily interrupted him. Frank's expression changed radically, fading from casual cordiality to complete shock in just seconds. "I know what happened over holiday and what happened on Sunday, and I can't hold it in anymore."
"Lily," began Frank shakily, "it was a mist..."
"Please, don't," Lily continued loudly. "Please, I can't take this anymore. If it's over... if it's really over with Carlotta, then you have to speak with Alice. If it's not, then I'll tell Alice, because it's not fair to her."
"I know that, and..."
"It's not fair, because she loves you, and you've been keeping this from her, and there is never... I mean never an excuse to cheat." Frank was quiet. "You have to tell her, Frank. Tonight. Now."
He was still quiet, and then he looked up to meet her eye. "I will."
(Lily Evans Learns James Potter Smokes Too Much)
Really, it was kind of a funny sight. James Potter just lay there, stretched out along the Gryffindor table top with a cigarette between two fingers as he brought it to his lips and inhaled. His hazel eyes were fixated upon the changing sky—a mass of black nothing, white starlight, and heavy clouds, which seemed to be moving out. It was late, and his chances of getting caught were slim, but he ought to have been more conscientious, Lily thought, for he did not even hear her enter the Great Hall. He did not hear her at all until she spoke.
"You smoke."
He started and looked about. Then—noticing it was just Lily—he lay his head back down on the cigarette-less hand. "Should I contrive a really witty way of telling you how efficiently you conveyed the most obvious statement in the world, or will a simple 'well, obviously' suffice?"
"I can see why you smoke," said Lily dryly, "it puts you in such a cheerful mood."
James waited as she approached the table: he waited for the statement that just about every human being made upon learning of his cigarette habit. He awaited the cliché and abundantly obvious observation, which usually went something identical to: "Those things will kill you, y'know." It did not come. Lily reached Gryffindor table and sat down on the bench, completely unperturbed by the fact that he was lying on the table (or keeping her mouth shut about it, anyway). In fact, they remained in that vein for some time, utterly silent, until James felt compelled to speak up.
"Listen, about earlier..." he began, hoping she would cut him off, but she didn't. "In the corridor at lunch, I... it was nothing. I just had a quick moment, and... it was nothing..."
"What happened?" Lily quietly prompted.
"My mum wrote," James told her, uncertain as to why. "She was just... she said my dad was moving back in to the house... he and mum split over the summer, and now I guess he's... back."
Lily felt as though she were hearing something that had not been uttered aloud as of yet. She nodded slowly, trying not to appear too shocked, because in reality, the only words that came to mind would be completely inappropriate at this time. Nonetheless, these four words played over and over in her head like a damaged record, overcoming her hesitance to believe them.
James Potter is human.
"I'm sorry if that's something that makes you unhappy," she said at length. "I really am."
James made no reply. Instead, he off-handedly asked: "So how'd you find me? Or was it fate?"
"Sirius Black, actually," Lily told him. "He said I'd find you here."
"Why were you searching?" pressed the other, with a hint of amusement that made Lily uncomfortable.
"To thank you," she said at once. "You were very decent in Defense class, and I thought I should say thank you for that—and for the advice. Consider it positive reinforcement." That made James laugh, which made Lily smile, though he didn't see, because he was still lying on the table top with his eyes on the ceiling-turned-sky, while she remained, properly seated, on the bench. James rectified this situation a moment later by sitting up, and Lily, in turn, pushed herself to sit up on the table top beside him.
"Can I ask you something?" she asked, as he took a long drag from the cigarette. James said that she could. "Why don't you want your dad to move back in to your house? I mean, I don't pretend to know a lot about you, but... just my limited experience and knowledge from you and from Sirius and whatnot... it just seems like you and your family have always got on pretty well. The first time I met you... on the train in first year... you said the reason you wanted to be Gryffindor was on account of your dad."
James exhaled. Cigarette smoke swirled up towards the black night sky. "I've spent most of my life idolizing Dad," the wizard began thoughtfully. "I wanted to be him when I grew up. I wanted to have his position at the Ministry, and I was proud because Mum said I looked like him. I don't know when exactly I realized that he made Mum unhappy but... they're just not right for each other. I'm not saying it's his fault or her fault. But, I don't know, eventually a kid looks at his parents as an actual couple... not just his mum and dad, but as people, and... as people, they're not right for each other. They're just... they're wrong. They bicker, and I know that they'd be happier apart: Dad with all his time for himself and Mum without... without having to wonder if she should keep supper out." Another long drag.
Lily tried to imagine ever thinking any such thing about her own parents. "My dad's dead," she said at last. James looked at her. "You might have already known that—I missed some school back in fourth year, and word always spreads so quickly."
"I'd forgotten," James admitted.
"Right, well... he wasn't perfect or special, my dad, he just... he was just normal." Lily strived to express everything in the right words. "He and my mum bickered sometimes. He also had a betting problem... not a real one, like, where he lost all our money or anything, but gambling was always such a temptation for him, so he couldn't go to the races or anything. He drank a fair bit, too. Mostly he could handle it, but this one time, when I was probably about... I don't know, seven, maybe, he lost his job, and he went out and got so completely plastered. 'Course, I don't want you to think my parents were unhappy, because they weren't... not at all. They were one of those meant-to-be couples that everyone hopes their parents are, but... y'know, things didn't always work perfectly. They'd fight about the most ridiculous things, too, y'know, like... Dad smoking in the house, or Mum working too much. This one time, they had an argument about—I don't know—money or something, and Mum was so upset she went to their room and cried, and I was so... angry with my Dad, I thought: 'when I'm drawing my pictures at school, and the teacher says to bring it home to our dads, I'm not going to give it to him.' I was six, so defying that sacred teacher's order was the most hurtful thing I could imagine doing to a father. And of course, like I said, I was six, so when he brought ice cream home for Petunia and me, and flowers for my mum, all was forgiven, but... I think that was probably the only time in all my life when I've used every bit of anger within me and directed it at a single object. I really just wantedto hurt him. It was... frightening." Lily breathed.
James waited a long time to speak. "I really don't know what you're talking about, Snaps," he finally said.
"I'm saying," Lily pressed, undaunted, "that my dad wasn't perfect... not by a long-shot, but he's dead now, and I'd give anything to have him back."
Unable to think of a proper response, James stared at his slowly dwindling cigarette. "That's great and all, Evans," he roughly began, "but it's not the same situation at all, y'know, and..."
"Oh, I know," Lily interrupted at once. "No, I was just... I just wanted to tell you something, because you told me something."
"I don't know why I told you."
"Because I'm here, and I'm a pretty girl," said Lily, which made James smirk. "Why do you smoke?" she asked casually.
He considered the question. "I like how it looks."
"God, that's the stupidest reason."
"No, that's not how I meant it," James amended hastily. "Look." He took a drag and exhaled. A pillar of silver smoke cascaded forth, twisting and swirling against the walls of the darkened hall, as though prodded by some invisible force. "See?" said James, quietly. "You have to admit, there's something striking about the smoke."
Lily's eyes shifted from the haze to James. "It's still a pretty stupid reason," she said frankly. "But at least it's interesting." And maybe he was right.
"Thank you." He made headway in the cigarette, and Lily watched the smoke. "I guess you listened to what I said in Defense class, then?" James asked after a while. "You talked to this bloke with the girlfriend?"
"Yeah. I reckon everyone will know all about it soon enough... I won't spoil the surprise for you."
"Don't worry too much about it," the other advised. "I mean, if these two are as destined as you seem to think they are, they'll survive."
"I can't believe I was such a coward about the whole thing," Lily lamented. "I should have just spoken up right away. I was only fooling myself: there's never an excuse to cheat."
"I guess not," said James.
"Don't you know?"
"I don't know... life is complicated. I guess there's no excuse, but... things don't always make sense. Maybe sympathy was the better option."
Lily did not agree, but sitting there with James was oddly comforting, and she didn't want to ruin it with a fight. She watched the glowing orange embers at the end of his cigarette and waited for him to speak again. The cigarette was all but gone before he did, and it was on a new topic: "He just left, y'know..."
Taken by surprise, Lily asked: "Your dad?"
James nodded. "I mean, he told my mum and everything, but he didn't even stop by my room to say 'bye.' The next morning he just... wasn't there."
"Maybe he thought it would be too difficult to leave if he saw you," Lily suggested. James shook his head, sardonically amused.
"More likely he knew I didn't want to see him. Dad and I hadn't been getting along for most of the summer... he was on some kind of 'discipline' kick. Trying to give me curfew for the first time and whatnot. He must have read a parenting book... finally."
"Discipline? Imagine that."
"I know, right?"
Laughing, Lily said: "So, I gather there wasn't a lot of punishment growing up?"
James sighed. "I don't want you to think I'm some sort of 'poor little rich boy' you know. My parents were in love with me... childhood was relatively drama-free. They never tried to control me or tell me what to do—I've had all the best broomsticks and pets and family heirlooms. And for most of the time, my parents were fine... times have been... crazy, and my dad's in the DMLE... that's Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which meant he worked just about all the time. Mum didn't go back to work till I started at Hogwarts, and by that time, she'd raised a child and grown up. Dad... he just made the money. Not that we needed it, by the way, as we're bloody loaded."
"Classy."
"I'm not going to lie," said James. "I could spend a hundred galleons every day without earning a knut, and I wouldn't have to worry for years."
"That's mad. So what are you going to do with yourself once Hogwarts is done with? You won't exactly worry about paying the rent... will you sit about with magazines and Bertie Bott's?"
"Quidditch," replied the other. "I'd like to play Quidditch." But he found that he didn't want to talk about that quite yet, so he redirected: "What about you?"
"I want to write," said Lily.
"Noble," James observed. "A nobler profession than my chosen one, I suppose. So, what, the Daily Prophet? Or are you more of a novelist?"
"Well, I, unfortunately, will have to worry about paying rent," Lily explained, "and novels are hardly a practical way to get started on that account."
"Practical is boring."
"Practical is necessary."
James shrugged. "Well, I'm glad I don't live according to what's 'practical' all the time. I'd be bored out of my mind. Don't know how you do it, Snaps."
"You probably wouldn't have seventy-four detentions if you had a little more practicality, Potter."
"So? I've immensely enjoyed nearly every single thing that's landed me in detention. I wouldn't take any of it back."
Lily looked at him, and he fancied that she looked a little disappointed. "Wouldn't you? Not anything?"
And he would have been a liar if, at that moment, he'd said that he regretted absolutely nothing. "Maybe a few things," the Quidditch Captain confessed. "I guess I haven't always been the epitome of nice¸ and there's a Hufflepuff or two who... I don't know... maybe I wouldn't hex, if I were to do it all over again." A thought occurred to him: "Hey, maybe I should get another detention. I reckon getting expelled would piss 'em off pretty well, yeah?"
Lily rolled her eyes. "I forbid you to get yourself kicked out to piss off your parents," she said.
"You forbid me? On what grounds?"
"I don't know... sanity, for one. And who would keep the leash on Sirius?" James grinned. Lily blushed faintly. "Listen, Potter," she began presently, "what—what are we doing here, exactly?"
"I'm smoking. You're stalking-slash-judging me."
Crossing her arms, Lily arched her eyebrows. "First of all: wrong. Second of all, that's not what I meant. I mean... today, we've been... fine. You gave me sound advice, and I followed that advice, and now we've been sitting here, talking like maybe we're..." But she couldn't bring herself to say the word: "...not enemies."
"Does everything require definition, Evans?" asked James with a sigh. Lily shook her head vigorously.
"I'm not saying we should be best mates," she argued. "I'm just… I just want consistency. If you're going to be nice to me sometimes, I want warning. If you're going to tell me I'm an idiot and put me down for no reason, I want warning, so that I can keep some fair sized rocks in my book bag to hurl at your head from time to time. I just... you confuse me, and I hate it, and it makes me dislike you even... especially when you're a decent bloke. Which..." she hastily added, "is very rare, but there you go."
James looked at her carefully. In the dying torchlight and artificial moonshine, Lily Evans seemed just about perfect, and James knew what he wanted, but he also knew that this would be the last time in a very long time that she would sit so close if he told her the truth just now. Instead, he quite safely said: "Well what do you want me to say?" And perhaps it came out slightly harsher than he intended, but... only slightly.
Lily noticed that his tone possessed an unmistakable edge, but for whatever reason, she found that she didn't much care. She thought maybe she could get used to his sharpness. "I don't care what you say," she informed him coolly. "But I sort of want to be your friend."
(Here, even Lily was surprised with Lily.)
"Oh." For once, James had nothing to say.
"But I could go either way on it," she continued. "If you want to be a git to me and everyone else, that's your prerogative, but... well... I think you might be okay if you'd just... deflate. And give yourself some credit. And those might seem like conflicting ideas, but they aren't. So..." Lily slid from the tabletop and, straightening her skirt, prepared to leave the hall. "...that's how I feel. But it's entirely up to you."
The redhead started to leave. She had traveled about a quarter length of the hall before James said: "Snaps." Lily turned around, hands in the pockets of her robes. "How—how did your dad die?"
(Uncertainly) "Why do you ask?"
"Because... I told you something else about me, and you should tell me something else about you." The witch looked unconvinced. "And because it's something that someone should know about their... potential friend." James brought the cigarette to his lips in order to fill the silence. "How'd he die?"
Lily chewed on her lip for a moment. Without a trace of resentment, judgment, or anything really, except irony, she replied: "Lung cancer." Then she was gone.
(The Second Conversation)
Severus had decided. He knew. Maybe he'd always known, or maybe the sight he had so unfortunately stumbled upon in the Great Hall was simply the manifestation of one of his most terrifying nightmares. Either way, Severus Snape had never felt as ill as he did when he entered Slytherin Common Room late Friday evening.
He had decided... but maybe he had already decided, too. Maybe the sight of Lily Evans and James Potter chatting like the best of friends in the Great Hall was simply a nudge down the path he had already decided upon long ago. Maybe it was an excuse, or maybe it was simply a much needed surge of courage. Either way, when Severus's eyes fell upon Nicolai Mulciber, sitting by the fire and finishing his Transfiguration homework, all doubt had been eradicated.
"I've decided," Snape told Mulciber.
The latter glanced up from his homework. "Have you?"
"Yes," said Snape. "I've decided I'm going."
"I'm glad. You're a smart bloke, you know."
"What time do we leave?"
"Meet here by half past eleven tomorrow night."
Nodding slowly and feeling that it was very important, Snape said: "I'll be here."
A/N: oi, dramatic! I wish there were meatier plot here, but that will be along ASAP. This chapter was very difficult to get through, as I've been stumbling through writer's block, so I'm rather nervous about this... PLEASE review! I'm seriously begging.
Reviews are Chuck Norris.
Love and cookies,
Jewels