The Life and Times

by Jewels5

She was dramatic. He was dynamic. She was precise. He was impulsive. He was James, and she was Lily, and one day they shared a kiss, but before that they shared many arguments, for he was cocky, and she was sweet, and matters of the heart require time.

16. Anatomy of a Red Rose

A/N: This should have been two chapters. It is almost fifty pages on MS word. I have no excuse. I hope you enjoy, though!

Disclaimer: Copyright Jo-Ro. Music from The Troggs, and many other geniuses, too numerous to be listed here. Also Captain and Tennille.

Recap: Following Carlotta's, Adam's, and another student's attempted suicides, auror Lathe is brought to Hogwarts to investigate. Suspecting Lily's boyfriend's family, he investigates the Harpers' shop, but leaves the school shortly thereafter with little explanation. Luke Harper's older brother Logan is suspected of being a death eater. At a Christmas party, Donna drinks too much and believes she has hooked up with Marlene's boyfriend, Miles, and even though it turns out Donna actually hooked up with a Ravenclaw, Charlie Plex, Marlene is furious at Donna for her intended deceit (as well as with Carlotta, who actually did make out with Miles). Marlene and Miles break up. Sirius begins to flirt with the newly single Alice. As a test of his loyalty to the Dark Lord, Snape is given two weeks to use an Unforgivable Curse on Lily.

Chapter 16-

Anatomy of a Red Rose

Or

"Love is All Around"

On February the fourteenth, Shelley Mumps woke up sneezing, and she didn't have the faintest idea why.

The cat never bothered her allergies much, and even if the window was left open the night before, it was the middle of February. The unfortunate witch held her breath in an attempt to stay another loud "Achoo!" and kicked off her blankets. She pushed aside her bed curtains, just as she could no longer hold in another sneeze.

Achoo!

"Who in the name of all that is reasonable is sneezing at this hour?" Donna Shacklebolt's raspy, barely awake voice grumbled from behind her own curtains. Shelley, however, did not reply; she was too busy gaping at her surroundings in the dormitory.

"What on Earth...?" she marveled, rising (Achoo!).

The room—the entire dormitory—was filled with red roses.

"Hey—achoo!—everyone!" Shelley said loudly. "C'mon—girls—wake up! You have a look at this... it's... this is crazy!"

Lily emerged first. Pulling on a robe, she stared at the room, wide-eyed. "Who could...?" Realization dawned on the redhead. "Valentine's Day, of course," she said, crossing her arms. "Alright, whose ruddy boyfriend did this?"

Marlene appeared and—after adding her own statements of astonishment—pointed out: "You're the only one with a boyfriend in this dorm, Lily. It would have to be Luke."

Lily realized that Marlene was, of course, correct... and it did seem like the sort of thing Luke would do. "Let's look for a card. I bet there's one here somewhere..."

Mary, Donna, and Carlotta rose in turn, confused and a little bit dazzled—or in Donna's case, irritated—by the spectacle before them. While the six girls searched, Shelley remarked: "It could have been a secret admirer, you know."

"Mmm," agreed Mary. "This positively screams secret admirer. It was probably James Potter."

"What makes you say that?" asked Shelley quickly, straightening up. Donna looked at her coolly.

"Because Lily's in this dorm."

"Right. Oh. Right."

"That's ridiculous," dismissed Lily, checking the vases on the vanity for any indication of origin. "First of all, James hasn't fancied me for ages... and even at the height of his insane exhibitionism, he wouldn't do something so... prosaic."

"Luke would," Donna commented, earning her a glare—but not a contradiction—from Lily.

"If it is a secret admirer," Lily continued, "it's probably one of Mary's or Carlotta's."

"I hope they're for me," said Mary frankly. "But I'm not that lucky."

"Yeah, they're probably for Carlotta," said Marlene. "I wonder whose boyfriend they're from."

"Probably yours, Marlene," replied Carlotta, falsely sweet. "Oh... wait..."

"Oh, c'mon," interjected Lily loudly, before Marlene could lunge. "We were doing such a good job not bickering for once!"

Resentfully, Marlene and Carlotta both returned to the search for a card, Shelley sneezing all along. After a few minutes, Donna spoke up. "Found the note!" she declared, triumphantly raising a slip of parchment she had found in a bouquet near one of the beds. The witch read it silently and then sighed. "They're for Marlene," she announced, and, handing the note to an eager Marlene, she departed into the bathroom.

The blonde read her note, and her smile faded.

For Marlene Price,

--I'm sorry and I love you—

Yours,

Miles

"They're from Miles," the blonde irritably told her roommates. "Sodding inconsiderate ass." She marched into the bathroom.

Achoo!

Lily conjured and offered a handkerchief to Shelley, who gratefully accepted, wiping her red nose unhappily. "I hate Miles Stimpson."

(They Can't Take That Away From Me)

The primary difference between adolescents of the female sex and adolescents of the male sex on Valentine's Day is that the former often has a set of romantic and sometimes unrealistic wishes for the fourteenth of February, and the latter typically wish only to make it out alive. Adam McKinnon usually found himself placed firmly in the latter category.

But not this year. This year, something was different.

He got up early, and there were no roses, but there was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, like today... today something important was going to happen. He knew exactly what it was.

Today was the day.

Today, he was going to tell Marlene Price the truth.

(Unchained Melody)

Severus Snape had always hated this sad excuse for a holiday and never more than today. He didn't sleep that night. He just lay quietly in the dormitory, staring upward and seeing nothing. Today was the day.

"Why don't we give Mr. Snape until then... until February fourteenth...?...Your unforgivable curse... you will perform it on Lily Evans..."

"We want to be certain you're taking this seriously, Severus," Malfoy had gone on to say, in reply to Severus's complaint about interference.

But he was taking it seriously. Severus fingered the wand which lay beside him on the bed. He was taking this far more seriously than he had ever taken anything. He needed to do this—there was no choice anymore: a single road stretched out before him, and no matter how he looked at things, that was his course.

Today was the day.

(I Only Have Eyes For You)

"I hate Miles Stimpson."

Lily draped a comforting arm over Marlene's shoulders as the pair made their way down to breakfast that morning (a Saturday). "I know, dear."

"I mean, how could he do that? After everything, how in God's name could he feel justified to... gah. How did he even get into the dormitory? He is just so frustrating!"

"Just ignore him," Lily advised. "Eventually he'll leave you alone."

"But I can't just ignore him," argued the other. "I don't know why, but for whatever reason, I just... I can't."

Lily sent Marlene a pointed look. "Are you considering taking him back, Mar?"

"What? No. No, of course not. Why would you say that?"

"Something about the way you're obsessing," replied Lily dryly. "And how you've been obsessing for weeks... and not depressed, Alice-style obsessing: nervous, did-I-do-the-right-thing-style obsessing."

"I have not." She paused. "Have I?"

Lily nodded.

"Well, what about you?" Marlene countered, crossing her arms. "You took Snape back, didn't you?"

"Completely different."

"Completely exactly the same."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Marlene," sighed Lily; "It is completely different. Sev was my friend... that's a completely different dynamic... different relationship, than what you and Miles had." She almost believed this. "And it took a while for me to accept Sev again... long after I forgave him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well—I moved on, sort of. It got to the point where I wasn't angry with Sev, but I didn't want to take him back as a mate yet. That came later."

"So do you think I should forgive Miles?"

Lily considered the question carefully. "You should forgive him when you're ready to, but that doesn't mean you have to like him, and it definitely doesn't mean you have to date him again... or that you should date him again... not-that-I'm-trying-to-pressure-you-one-way-or-the-other,-because-it-is-entirely-your-decision,-and-my-opinion-carries-no-weight-with-regards-to-that." Marlene smiled. "But be careful."

"I will," assured the blonde. "Plus, I don't even want to date Miles again. Honestly. That rose stunt was just... stupid."

"Right," agreed Lily.

"Shelley's still sneezing."

"Right."

"It was inconsiderate."

"Right."

"Unoriginal."

"Right."

Marlene hesitated. "Completely unromantic?"

"Marlene."

"No, no, I know. He snogged another girl. Done. Right." She seemed almost convinced, too. "But what about Snape? I mean—are you glad you forgave him and everything, Lily?"

"Honestly? Yes." Lily frowned thoughtfully. "Bearing in mind that Sev's case and Miles's are utterly different, I'm glad Sev and I are friends again. It's not easy..." (She thought of James) "...but I feel like, when he's with me, he's different than he is with other people... especially with his Slytherin friends. He's almost like old Sev, sometimes, and I think... I think if he weren't here, at Hogwarts with me, he'd be completely lost. I feel like I can help him, you know?"

Marlene was quiet for a moment, watching her friend very carefully. Then, timidly, she said: "Lily, you're trying to save Snape, aren't you?"

"What?"

"Is that why you're mates with him? To save him?"

"What? No. That's mad. Of course not. Sev and I have so much history, that question doesn't even make sense."

"It makes perfect sense... Lily, that's so dysfunctional."

"Says the girl who is considering getting back together with the boy who tried to sleep with her friend and made out with her roommate!"

Marlene scowled. They reached the Great Hall: large, scarlet hearts that looked like bubbles bobbed about beside the usual candles. The two girls were quiet. "New topic," suggested the blonde.

"Agreed."

(P.S. I Love You)

A cigarette.

James Potter needed a cigarette.

He was already in a bad mood, and the stupid red hearts that plagued the Great Hall like fruit flies didn't much help. A cigarette—he desperately needed a cigarette. The resolution to quit had never seemed so incredibly futile as right then.

"Good morning," chirped Sirius, sliding into his usual seat besides James. He noted his best friend's expression and changed his tone: "Or... not."

"Do you think I could press charges against the school for forcing me to celebrate a meaningless holiday?" James queried, chewing his bacon irritably.

"Celebrate?" echoed Sirius. "I would hardly call what you're doing celebrating, Prongs, mate. Anyway, I don't see what you're so upset about. Valentine's Day is the best day of the year."

"I beg to differ."

Sirius frowned. "Name one day that's better."

"Okay, um... how about any of the three-hundred-sixty-four-and-one-quarter others?"

Sirius shook his head. "February fourteenth, Prongs, is the day when birds are easiest."

"And February 15th, Padfoot, is the day when birds are clingiest."

Remus and Peter arrived just then. "As usual," said the former cheerfully, "You two disgust me. Pass the pumpkin juice."

"So that's your plan, is it?" James asked casually of Sirius, passing the requested pumpkin juice. With Alice Griffiths. Is that your plan? A Valentine's Day fling?"

Even Remus and Peter paused to hear Sirius's response. He glared. "Don't be thick, Prongs. Alice Griffiths is a lovely girl. You can't be insensitive to lovely girls like Alice Griffiths."

Peter looked skeptical. "So you're not planning on dating her?"

"I never said that," protested Sirius. "I simply said you couldn't be insensitive... you know, be a git..."

"Which, for you, is synonymous with 'dating,'" muttered Remus, causing James to grin and Sirius to scowl.

"So funny, Moony," he drawled sarcastically. "I don't see you with a date."

"Nor are you likely to," said Remus calmly.

"It's no fun if you don't get offended," Sirius pointed out. Remus smirked. Sirius turned to Peter. "What about you, Wormy?"

"Must you call me 'Wormy?'"

"Yes."

"Fine. I asked Prudence Daly."

"Did Prudence Daly say 'yes?'"

Peter sighed. "No. But Sabrina Barbery did."

"Sabrina Barbery isn't bad looking," consoled Sirius. "Anyway, Prudence Daly was probably already asked by someone else." James was privately impressed by his friend's generosity, and his mood was improving marginally, until he glanced along the table and noted Luke Harper walking over to Lily Evans's seat at Gryffindor table. The Ravenclaw set a small, golden, heart shaped box at Lily's place, and she beamed, rising to give her boyfriend a kiss on the cheek. The gift was opened a moment later, and Harper happily fastened the contents—what looked like a heart-shaped pendant necklace—around Lily's throat. She kissed him again, this time on the lips, and as Harper took a seat at Gryffindor table, James's mood plummeted. He moved quickly to distract himself.

"The post... thank God."

Sirius looked at James, confused. "Are you expecting mail, Prongs?"

"Er... no. Just the newspaper."

The Daily Prophet dropped at his place a moment later, and James unrolled it quickly to divert further inquiry. The front page contained a dire headline: three aurors had been killed.

"Agrippa," murmured Sirius, reading over James's shoulder. "There'll be hell to pay for that. Three killed... surely that's got to get rid of any death eater sympathy in the Ministry..." He continued to read, listing off facts aloud as he did so. "Three aurors dead, two wounded... death eater suspects escaped... there were four of them... with the masks, just like the attacks in Kent and Somerset... aurors received an anonymous tip that more illegal dark magic objects were being transported into the country... tried to stop the smuggling... killed in the process... and then there are the names of the deceased." Sirius sighed. "What do you make of it, Prongs?"

James's attention, however, was elsewhere. "Look at this," he said, pointing to a smaller headline in the side column that had caught his eye.

"Former Suspected Death Eater Now 'Wanted for Questioning,'" Sirius read aloud. "So what?"

"Keep reading," James prompted, and Sirius did so.

"Logan Harper?" Sirius asked, when he finished. "What's-his-name's brother? So... I'm confused... he's not a death eater?"

"That's what it says," murmured James, frowning uncertainly. "The Ministry isn't charging him... they just want him to answer questions. He's not under arrest."

"Maybe they're just trying to get him to turn himself in," Remus suggested idly. "'Still missing, isn't he?" Sirius nodded.

James took back the newspaper while Sirius returned to his breakfast. "It seems plausible, though," James mused, rereading the article. "Not having enough evidence, they might want to try and get him to name names. And anyway, pretense doesn't really seem like Lathe's style."

Remus looked up quickly. "Lathe? The auror? What's he got to do with it?"

"He's the auror on the case," explained Sirius.

"I thought he was on the Hogwarts case," Remus protested. Sirius shook his head.

"It looks like that one's closed," he said grimly. "The Ministry is a bit of a goldfish these days, when it comes to attention spans."

"The last group of aurors guarding the castle left last week," Peter contributed. "It's up to Dumbledore to keep the school protected now."

"He's done alright so far, hasn't he?" bit James defensively. The other three nodded at once, and Prongs was appeased. "Anyway..." He exhaled and took another slice of bacon. "It explains why Harper's in such a jolly mood."

The others also returned to their breakfasts. "Is he, now?" Sirius murmured, before adding something under his breath that James could not hear. The Quidditch Captain decided not to press the subject any further though, and, propping his chin up on the palm of his hand, he read the rest of the article on the three dead aurors.

Yes, indeed, he could definitely use a cigarette.

(Rescue Me)

Donna had buttoned her shirt wrong.

She didn't notice until she reached the very last button at the bottom of her shirt, where she spotted an extra hole and the uneven tails of her forest green blouse. Sighing irritably, she began to undo the other buttons in order to start over.

"Ready for another, are you?" asked a cheeky voice somewhere behind her, and Donna rolled her eyes, refusing to turn around. She stared determinedly down at the bead buttons of her shirt, not even looking up lest she catch a reflection in the looking glass before her.

"No talking," she ordered. "That's the rule."

"Bossy. I like it," replied the voice. A very shirtless Charlie Plex stepped forward, resting his chin on her Donna's shoulder and attempting to snake his arms around her waist. She squirmed away quickly.

"None of that either," the Gryffindor ordered, crossing her arms. "I'm not your girlfriend. I don't cuddle."

Charlie seemed to suddenly remember something. His eyes flitted across his dormitory to the vanity, where he had left his watch half an hour earlier. "Speaking of which," he muttered, strapping the item on his wrist, "I'm supposed to meet said girlfriend in the village at eleven. I should head down."

Donna shrugged. "You might want to put on a shirt first, Plex. Wait a minute, though. I don't want to walk through your Common Room alone. Someone might..."

"It's a Hogsmeade weekend," Charlie reminded her, pulling a long-sleeved t-shirt on over his head, followed by a green knit jumper. "No one will be around to see your walk of shame."

Donna rolled her eyes again, not bothering to remind him that "shame" was the senseless result of a meaningless social construct that held no place in her vocabulary. "The first and second years aren't allowed in Hogsmeade, idiot," she pointed out instead.

"I'll go first to make sure it's clear," replied Charlie, while Donna slipped into her brown leather boots. "And it will be... everyone's in the village..." Here, he grinned in Donna's direction. "...As I would be, if you hadn't stopped by. I thought we had a schedule, Shacklebolt."

"Fuck off," she muttered, zipping the second boot. It was true, though. She hadn't planned on meeting Charlie this morning... in fact, after Wednesday evening, she hadn't planned on ever "meeting with" Charlie again. She hadn't planned on ever meeting with Charlie again after Monday afternoon, or Sunday, or the Thursday before, or the half dozen other times either. It just happened. James Potter had said "find a release" and she had found one... so what if he was a complete prat? And so what if he had a girlfriend named Cassidy? She didn't know Cassidy from Eve—it made no difference to Donna.

Really.

She didn't feel guilty... that would be just another irrational emotion that she had so expertly exiled from her person. She didn't feel guilty.

Really.

"So why did you decide to visit?" Charlie pressed, trying not to look at her or to sound as though he cared, while he pulled on his cloak. "Couldn't resist?"

Never in a million years would Donna have told Charlie the real reason she had come over... that she had been so angered by a stupid, insignificant argument with Marlene over breakfast (about Miles and what happened—or didn't happen—at Christmas... as always) that she had needed to do something... anything to silence that voice in the back of her head that told her she should just apologize already... make up with Marlene, because she should have told her about Miles... she was in the wrong.

But talking through things was not the purpose of her visits with Charlie Plex.

"I told you," Donna said, getting to her feet and grabbing her own cloak and scarf. "No talking."

Charlie merely shrugged. "I'll come back if the coast is clear," he said, and with a final, smug look, he turned and exited the Ravenclaw sixth year boys' dormitory. Donna tied her scarf and moved to the looking glass. Her serious reflection stared back. She combed one hand through her tight black ringlets, smoothed her cloak, and breathed deeply.

No, not guilty at all.

(Love Will Keep Us Together)

The snow had almost begun to melt, though thick white slush was left along the sides of the road and on top of Hogsmeade's buildings. The streets were crowded, bustling with shoppers and vendors, all bundled up against the sharp February chill. Pink ribbons and red roses bedecked shops, and a sound vaguely resembling the vocal stylings of Celestina Warbeck drifted through the air from an open door down the road.

Lily took Luke's gloved hand in hers, pulling herself close as they made their way up the high street. "I don't care if Valentine's Day is a ridiculous excuse for a holiday, born to propagate female stereotypes and guilt-trip blokes into buying things," she said, glowing. "I like it."

Luke looked over his shoulder at the flush-faced girl at his side. He was appraising her, she could tell, and she suddenly felt self-conscious: she hadn't dressed up, by any means. A grey coat concealed the most colorful part of her ensemble (a rose colored jumper). Additionally, she wore knit gloves, a jade scarf, and a black corduroy skirt matched with black wool stockings and black boots. Not very Valentine's-Day-esque, and Lily awaited Luke's conclusion curiously. He smiled broadly and genuinely. "You look lovely, you know, Flower."

"Aw, thank-you," Lily cooed, smiling as well. "Even if that's utterly false. My hair is probably starting to dry out, which means chaos in that department, and my gloves don't match." She held up her hands—one of which was still intertwined with Luke's—to show two different gloves, the same style, but different colors (forest green and dark purple respectively). Luke arched an inquisitive eyebrow. "I couldn't find the other green one," Lily explained. "And the thumb on the other purple glove has a hole. So... problem solved." She smiled with satisfaction at her decision, and Luke kissed her on the cheek.

"You're adorable," he pointed out.

"Mmm, but you shouldn't say that," insisted the other petulantly. "It sets a standard, and then I feel like I have to be completely cute all the time."

"But you are comp..." Luke stopped suddenly, and Lily noticed that he no longer met her eye... something had caught his attention over her shoulder. The Gryffindor looked around quickly, but saw nothing except a typical, crowded storefront.

"What's wrong, Luke?" Lily asked, turning her eyes to her boyfriend once again. He blinked several times, and then shook his head briskly.

"Nothing. I thought I saw some... something strange... it... doesn't matter."

Lily remained unconvinced, but Luke's mood—which had been distinctly dismal for the past few months—continued to show marked improvement throughout the morning (undoubtedly due to the article in the newspaper that morning about his brother). The pair stopped at various shops, making a few inconsequential purchases and flirting in the cheesy, romantic way that Luke always inspired.

Briefly, Lily wished that it could always be like this between them... never serious or dramatic: just... comfortable. Happy. Almost immediately, however, Lily felt guilty for the disloyalty of such thoughts and pushed them from her mind. It was just before noon when Luke cheerfully asked if she would like to step into the Three Broomsticks for a hot butterbeer, and Lily willingly agreed.

(Teenager in Love)

"Alice Griffiths, are you drinking alone?"

Alice looked up from her glass and smiled at her new companion—the uncharacteristically solitary Sirius Black. Well—solitary in the very broadest sense: the ubiquitous other three occupied spaces along the crowded Three Broomsticks bar, where James shamelessly chatted up Madam Rosmerta. And, of course, the whole pub was abuzz with students and non-students alike. Sirius, meanwhile, leaned against the table with his usual careless grace.

"Only butterbeer," Alice assured him, in response to the somewhat suggestive tone used; "so don't get any ideas."

"I have no ideas," Sirius told her; he invited himself to sit across from her. "That's what makes me so astoundingly unique."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, everyone's got ideas, don't they? Plans, thoughts, considerations—not me. Things just happen, and I just let them... occasionally acting, but always in a totally un-premeditated manner."

"Nothing is totally un-premeditated."

"Everything that I do is."

Alice rolled her eyes, but smiled. "Can I ask you a question, Sirius?" she, somewhat seriously, asked.

"Refraining from the obvious 'you already did' response: yes." He grinned charmingly at her.

"Why are you so nice to me?" she asked.

"Oh, that's a common misconception about me—I'm nice to everyone." Alice sent him a pointed look. He tried again, more sincerely, but still drenched with levity: "I like you, Alice Griffiths."

"Like me," she echoed. "Like me how?"

He considered the question. "The usual method, I'd imagine."

"Sirius."

"I like you..." he began, starting to rise from the booth, "enough to get you a butterbeer right now."

"I already have a butterbeer."

"Ah, but it's almost gone."

Alice hadn't noticed, but a glance at her glass told her that the Marauder was right. "Oh. Well, in that case..."

"Come along, Miss Griffiths."

She followed him to the counter, where two dozen or so other students also awaited attention from the hassled staff. "It'll be a while," Alice observed. Sirius grinned at her and shook his head.

"It won't. C'mon, I'll show you a shortcut."

(Some Kind of Wonderful)

"Have I said 'thank-you' yet?" asked Marlene, pausing in front of a dress shop to examine the display. Adam, who stood by her side in the snow-covered street, grinned.

"About sixteen times, but who's counting?"

Marlene laughed. "I'm sorry! I'm just really grateful—I don't think I could stand being alone and running into Carlotta Meloni—" she uttered the name with extraordinary spite—"and her gorgeous seventh year date."

"Some chaps aren't picky," said Adam with a shrug. There was a twinkle in his eye, though, and Marlene crossed her arms—smiling a little nonetheless.

"Your dishonest loyalty is also appreciated," she said. "What do you think of those shoes? The blue ones?" The blonde pointed to a pair of pumps in the window display.

"I hope you're not asking for my opinion on clothing, Price," replied Adam. "Because I might have to hang myself if you are."

Marlene laughed again. "I wouldn't dream of it," she said. "As if it isn't awful enough that I've asked you to spend the day with me when you could be out with a girl... I mean another girl: I wouldn't dream of asking you about clothing!" She glanced at the shoes again. "But I think I will run in and check the price... I'll only be a moment—do you want to come in or wait out here?"

Adam raised his eyebrows. "It's a tough choice," he said sarcastically, "but I think I'll wait outside."

"Fair enough. I'll be back in a minute." Marlene disappeared into the shop, and Adam wandered towards the display in the window next door. A few seconds passed, and then a voice called the Gryffindor's name, pulling him out of his absent-minded musings.

"McKinnon!"

He looked up. Miles Stimpson hovered over his left shoulder. "Er... personal space invasion much?" muttered Adam, stepping to the right. "How can I help you, Stimpson?"

"Are you seeing Marlene?" snapped Miles. He didn't look well, Adam noticed—his brown hair was uncombed and his skin seemed a bit pale, considering the cold. For the briefest of moments, Adam felt sympathy for the wizard... clearly, the Ravenclaw was not taking his break up as well as Marlene. None of that, however, changed the reasons for the break up to begin with, and Adam's sympathy was, therefore, severely limited.

"Not at the moment—she's indoors," the Gryffindor replied.

"Don't cheek me," snapped Miles. "Answer the damn question. Are you and Marlene together?"

"Are you and Carlotta?"

Miles bristled. "You git," he barked, stepping threateningly closer, "I always trusted you even though you were such 'great mates' with Marlene... spent all that time with her, but I didn't say a word... thought it was only fair she have a mate in that house, but all the while, you were just waiting to swoop in and..."

"Rich, coming from you," interrupted Adam. "Actually, I find it a bit satisfying that you're such a bloody wreck... finally seen some sense, did you? Realized that Marlene or any self-respecting bird really is ten thousand times too good for you?"

"You keep quiet about Marlene." He drew his wand. Adam wasn't worried.

"Going to hex me, Miles?" he asked, almost lazily. "Right here—in the middle of the street? Right—that's a bloody brilliant way of losing your Hogsmeade privileges for the rest of the year."

Miles scowled, but he returned his wand to his pocket. "Marlene Price is never going to see you as anything but a shoulder to cry on, McKinnon," he spat.

"What's she got to cy about, now that you two are done?" retorted Adam calmly.

"Watch your back." Miles slipped away into the hustle and bustle of the village mere seconds before Marlene stepped out of the shop.

"Well, I officially feel poor," she announced cheerfully. "Fifty-two galleons. Agrippa! Imagine having that kind of money to... is something wrong, Adam?" She noticed his expression, and Adam hastily changed it. He smiled and shook his head.

"No, no, nothing's wrong," he told her. "What d'you say? Record shop? There's this new band that's supposed to be brill. The Fresh Bloods, I think..."

Marlene nodded. "They are brilliant. Lily got the record for her birthday."

"You've been holding out on me, Price."

"My sincere apologies. I'll make it up to you though—I'll flirt with salesman. He always marks things down for me."

Adam raised his eyebrows. "I should take you shopping more often."

(Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me)

Sirius Black used the term "shortcut" loosely, as Alice Griffiths realized very soon, when he pulled her around to the back of the pub, behind the bar, to a narrow archway leading to a long, poorly lit corridor.

"What's this?" asked Alice somewhat nervously. She had no cause for anxiety, however. The pub was crowded and noisy; no one paid them any heed.

"Well, all those rooms along the hall—private booths," replied Sirius, nodding towards the curtained archways which flecked the corridor; "And at the end there…" He pointed to a wooden door at the end of the hall… "Daily storage."

Alice crossed her arms. "I am not going to steal butterbeer."

"Good, me neither," Sirius answered cheerfully. "I'll pay Rosie when it's cleared up." Then, off her skeptical look, he added: "I promise. C'mon." And once again he—gently—took her wrist and guided her, this time down the corridor. The door was locked, but Sirius attended to this quickly with a pocket knife the likes of which Alice had never before witnessed. She could not help but be a little impressed as the lock clicked and the door swung open to reveal a torch-lit chamber filled with shelves and shelves of butterbeer crates and various other items Alice recognized as standard of the Three Broomsticks menu.

"There's a cellar for more long term storage," Sirius explained, grabbing two butterbeer bottles from a shelf. "This is just what's expected to be needed for a day or two."

"How did you find this?" Alice asked, marveling. She took the bottle offered to her, and Sirius closed the door behind them.

"Most of the shops in Hogsmeade have a similar set up," he replied with a shrug. "Pr—James and I were sneaking around Chortle's Chocolates in fourth year and figured it out… it's not too different a lay out here. Hey, wait a second." She paused, having intended to leave the corridor and re-enter the main area. There was a mischievous glint in Sirius's grey eyes. "Want to eavesdrop?" he whispered.

"What?"

"On the private booths," he elaborated. "I found out about a pop quiz Professor McGonagall was planning on giving us back here once."

"Sirius."

"Live a little, Alice," teased the Marauder, winking. "Here…" He stood close to one wall, leaning so that his ear touched the curtain of one of the private booths. "Hmmm… two businessmen by the sounds of it… apparently, Bartley's about to be sacked."

"Who in Agrippa's name is 'Bartley?'"

"Haven't the faintest idea…" Sirius moved to another curtain. "Oi, we've got teachers in here," he whispered excitedly. Alice stepped closer to hear. "That's got to be McGonagall talking…" the young wizard mused. "And… that's the Ancient Runes teacher… he's talking to… 'Kelley.' Who's Kelley? Oi, the Arithmancy teacher, right?"

"Shhh," hushed Alice. "I'm trying to hear!"

"You rebel."

"Shut it." But she was smiling.

"Someone should speak to Dumbledore," Professor Babble, the Ancient Runes teacher was saying, sounding worried; "I don't believe he's set up any interviews yet."

"Now, Angus," began McGonagall's voice, "we are not even certain that's necessary yet. We might not need anyone until next term…"

"Even still, we will need someone for next year," a new voice—Professor Flitwick, judging by the high pitch—remarked sadly. "And we might need someone sooner, given what Healer Holloway said. It could be any day now."

"It might be a year, though," saidProfessor Kelley. "Dumbledore does not want Alphard to feel as though he's being forced out of the position."

"It was irresponsible to engage Black in the first place," said Professor Babble. "And it's even more irresponsible his keeping it from the students."

"No one had any idea of Black's condition being so advanced in September," retorted McGonagall coolly. "Even he was not aware, and even still, he has done a lot of good this year."

"You're referring to his nephews," said Kelley, no question in his tone. McGonagall's response—if she responded at all—was inaudible. "Perhaps he has benefitted one of them, but I fear not the other. Regulus, I believe, has fallen in with an insalubrious crowd."

Someone snorted—probably Babble, since he spoke next. "And what kind of good will Black do either of them if he's dead before Easter?"

Alice gasped, unconsciously touching her companion's arm. "Oh, Sirius," she breathed. He had gone very pale. "Sirius..."

But before she could offer even a single condolence, Sirius moved his arm away from her, walking briskly towards the exit. Alice struggled to keep up, her short legs no match for Sirius's long strides. He pushed and shoved his way through the crowded pub, ignoring Alice's pleas for him to wait just a moment, until he reached the door. Out on the street, the Marauder broke into a run.

"Sirius! Where are you going?" Alice shouted after him. He slowed and then stopped several shops away, giving Alice enough time to catch up with him. When she did, his expression was unrecognizable. There was no mischief or humor in his eyes, no ghost of a smile on his handsome face. It was all blank. "Sirius, wait, you have to think..."

Sirius shoved the butterbeer bottle he had swiped into Alice's free hand. "I have to go," he said, almost calmly, which frightened her.

"Well, I'll..."

"No, Alice, stay here," Sirius interrupted. "Please, just don't... just stay here, and... whatever you do, don't... don't tell anyone... don't tell anyone what you heard."

"Sirius..."

But he was already gone, tearing towards the castle with Alice left alone on the crowded, snowy street.

(Sea of Love)

"Flower," murmured Luke, pressing his lips against Lily's hair, "You look beautiful." They sat side-by-side in a Three Broomstick's booth, both sipping butterbeers.

"So do you," Lily deflected easily. "You have such fantastic brown eyes. Y'know, brown eyes can be very dull and flat, but I'm quite envious of yours. And blue is a nice color for you. Have I seen you wear that jumper before?"

"I don't think so. It was a gift from my mum for Christmas. Do you like it?"

"Very much."

The conversation was interrupted by an eruption of laughter coming from the direction of the bar, where James Potter and a group of students were making some kind of commotion. Lily wondered what they might be up to (while reflecting that James, too, looked nice in his blue cashmere zip-up). Luke, a mature seventh year on the other hand, rolled his eyes.

"Blighters," he muttered. "I don't like that James Potter."

"He's alright," replied Lily vaguely. "Immature and obnoxious, of course, but not wholly bad." The wizard in question proceeded to juggle coasters. "Yes... rather immature."

Luke nodded in agreement. "Are you hungry? We haven't eaten yet—I could go and order some food, if you are..."

"Actually," admitted Lily, "I am a bit famished."

Luke pulled away, getting to his feet. "What would you like, then?"

"You don't want me to come along?"

"It'll be a bit of a wait," Luke replied, ever the gentleman. "No sense in the both of us troubling over it."

"But..."

"Rubbish, Lily. Someone's got to mind the table. What would you like to eat?"

Lily relented. "I don't know—er—fish and chips, I suppose."

"Lovely." Luke departed. Lily peered into her three-quarter-filled butterbeer glass, humming along with the song that played in the background. She was alone for nearly five minutes, before a voice grabbed her attention.

"Nice legs, Snaps."

It could only be James Potter.

Lily rolled her eyes—suddenly conscious of her stocking-clad-and-booted legs crossed at the knee under the table—as the wizard himself made an appearance, half-sitting on the table-top.

"Hullo, James," she said, a bit wearily.

James did not seem bothered. He reached over and swiped her butterbeer glass, taking a gulp of the copper colored liquid.

Lily looked up at him irritably. "You stole my drink."

"Did not." James placed it down in front of her, grinning. "So where's Prince Charming?"

"Luke is ordering food." Lily nodded towards the bar, where Luke waited in the rather long, rather disorderly queue.

"He'll be a while," James observed. He slid off the table and into the seat across from her.

"What are you doing here?" Lily asked suspiciously.

"What am I doing here? What am I doing here?"

"Yes, what are you doing here?"

"What a question."

"It's fairly basic, I think."

"You would think that, wouldn't you?"

"James."

"Si?"

"You're being evasive."

"How could I be evasive, Snaps? I don't even know what that word means."

"James."

"One minute, Snaps, I'm trying to answer your question." Lily rolled her eyes. James leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. "I'm here with my friends... drinking butterbeer... having a laugh... enjoying my youth. It passes so quickly."

Lily arched an eyebrow. "No date?"

"No date."

The lack of explanation—or excuse—prompted Lily to continue: "Why not?"

"Because I didn't ask anyone."

"Why didn't you ask anyone?"

James merely grinned enigmatically and reached across the table, picking up her butterbeer and taking another drink.

"Would you stop that?" Lily demanded, grabbing it back. "Seriously. You should go. Luke will be back in..."

"About a century," James finished for her, "judging by the length of that line and his unwillingness to trick people into letting him go ahead."

"Luke is honorable; he doesn't cheat people," Lily defended coolly. "And I don't appreciate your insulting my boyfriend. It's really rather rude."

"Really-rather-rude," James chanted. "And seriously, Snaps? Honorable? If this bloke gets anymore exciting, I might just have to date him myself! Honorable, polite... really. Thrilling. Does it all come naturally to him, or does he regulate with a healthy dose of Draught of Boring?"

Lily glared. "Do you want me to throw you out a window, Potter?"

James disregarded this. "Did he get you that necklace, then?" he asked. The redhead automatically glanced down at the jewelry, visible now that she had removed her jacket and scarf in the warmth of the Three Broomsticks. It consisted of a heart-shaped clear crystal pendant on a gold chain, falling about four finger widths below her collarbone. It really was quite pretty, though it didn't match the earrings she'd worn that day (white hoops).

"Yes, he did," she responded, momentarily distracted from her task of extricating herself from any more conversation with this wizard. "Pretty, isn't it?"

"Sure." James shrugged casually, swiping another drink of butterbeer. "If you like tasteless things."

Lily stole back the butterbeer once again, fuming. "James."

"Oui?"

She deliberated briefly on what she wanted to say now that she had his limited and wandering attention. "What are you doing here?"

"I already answered that one."

"No," said the prefect firmly. "I mean, what are you doing here? At my booth. Giving me thoughts of suicide."

"I bet that's not all I'm giving you thoughts of."

"Well, murder is also on the table."

"You aren't enjoying the playful banter, Snaps?"

"Answer the question, James. And stop calling me that."

"I've never called you 'That.' Rather impersonal and vague... no one would know who I was talking about."

"James."

"Yes, That?"

If she hadn't been so furious, Lily might have laughed. "You're annoying," she snapped instead. "Please leave."

"But I haven't answered your question yet!"

"And whose fault is that?"

"Yours." James tried to steal another drink of butterbeer, but Lily slapped his hand. Rubbing the wounded hand mournfully, he elaborated: "You're the one who keeps distracting me with talk of imaginary nicknames and your fantasies about me. I'm trying to answer as to what I'm doing here, but you won't let me. I'm not going to lie: it's a little frustrating, actually."

Lily bit her lip to stop herself from swearing. She was furious to see that the angry flush spreading in her cheeks made James smile.

"Anyway," he continued conversationally, "I actually have something very serious to discuss with you."

"Why do I doubt that?"

"I don't know; why do you?"

"Get on with it, James."

The Quidditch Captain shrugged. "Have you seen the newspaper?" he asked.

Lily rolled her eyes. "James, what has that got to do with...?" And then she stopped, realizing what he was trying to say. "You mean about Logan Harper?" James nodded, legitimately serious now. "He's not a death eater. They just want him as a witness or something."

"Well that's what the newspaper said," James dismissed, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms. "Whether you believe it or not is another story, but that's not what I'm talking about."

"But I thought..."

"Did you read the article, or did you just hear Prince Charming's recap?" James interrupted.

"I read it," Lily retorted.

"And did you catch the part about Lathe?"

"That he's the one who issued the statement about Logan not being a death eater?" she clarified, bewildered.

"Exactly."

"Exactly what?"

"Exactly that. Don't you see what this means? If Lathe's on the case about Logan..."

"He's off the Hogwarts case!" Lily finished, surprised that she had not considered this implication earlier.

James, however, shook his head impatiently. "No, no. That's what I was thinking at first. But what if they're the same case? What if Lathe left Hogwarts to go search for Harper, because he was the one responsible for the almost non-suicides?"

"But Logan Harper's not a death eater."

The Quidditch Captain waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever. Even working under that suspect premise..." (Lily scowled), "...maybe he hid the rubbish without knowing what it was, or..."

"Hid what rubbish?" Lily interrupted.

"The rubbish that gave Carlotta, Adam, and that Hufflepuff a death wish," explicated James, as though it were quite obvious. "'Darkly magical items' or whatever it was Healer Holloway called it. Remember?"

"'Course I remember."

"They were believed to be in the Harpers' store cellar, yeah?"

"Yes..."

"And I've met Mr. and Mrs. Harper... they're about as likely to be death eaters as Frank Longbottom."

Lily frowned. "You've met Mr. and Mrs. Harper?"

"I've met everyone," James explained, unconcerned. "The point is, someone had to put it there, and who would have access if not Logan Harper...?" Lily opened her mouth to argue, but James added: "Even if it was an accident. Even if he didn't know what he was hiding, or who he was hiding it for. Maybe he thought..." James stopped abruptly.

"What?" asked the other, confused.

"I just had a thought," he said.

"Color me surprised."

"Funny. No seriously, this is good." Lily waited, eyebrows raised. "What if," James continued, "the magic objects in the Harpers' basement are the same things that have been in the papers? You know the 'illegal substances' that have been all over The Prophet... the smugglers that they think are death eaters but can't seem to catch..."

"The smugglers that killed three aurors yesterday," Lily added darkly.

James nodded. "There were a whole load of things," he continued, trying to recall what he had read; "potions, some cursed artifacts that wizards had to take away ages ago, to protect the muggles from hexing themselves when they were defiling and raiding the pyramids…"

"And some of the dangerous items were stolen last summer," Lily finished. "The Ministry thought that might be part of what the death eaters were bringing into the country, right?"

"Why bother?" James wondered idly.

"The ancients had powerful witches and wizards," replied Lily. "They had a lot of strong magic, and a lot of strong dark magic, that I bet..." she hesitated, "...I bet Voldemort wouldn't mind getting his hands on." They were both quiet, and then Lily looked up at her classmate across the table, biting her lip, but this time in concentration as she attempted to figure him out. "James, why are you...?"

"Hullo there, Harper," James interrupted suddenly and brightly. Lily looked up to see her boyfriend approaching the table.

"Potter," replied Harper with much less warmth. "I believe you're in my seat."

James shook his head. "No. You were sitting next to Snaps, if I recall."

Luke looked inquisitively to Lily. "'Snaps?'"

"It's James's special way of making me want to kill him," said Lily, smiling faux sweetly at the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. He responded in kind, before accommodating Luke's wish and rising from the table. "Anyway, it was nice talking to you, Snaps. And I'm sorry I had to turn you down on your offer, but I just don't snog birds with boyfriends."

Luke grew very red in the face at that, looking ready to knock one to James, so Lily grabbed his hand quickly. "Of course you don't, James," she quipped. "You only snog the boyfriends." A crooked grin began to form on James's lips, and he would have responded, when she cut him off: "Please leave." There was a note of pleading in her tone, and James nodded.

"Fair enough," he said. Luke slid into the seat next to Lily again, and James began to walk away.

"Wait," said Lily suddenly, causing both James and Luke to look at her in surprise. "James," she began, staring determinedly at him and not chancing a peripheral glance at Luke, "Why did you come to... why did you tell me those things that you were... telling me?"

James deliberated over the question. "Consider it a warning," he said at length. "Have a good one, Harper." With a congenial wave, he returned to his friends along the bar. Luke turned to Lily.

"What did you mean just now? What was he talking to you about?"

Lily sighed and shook her head. "It was... nothing. Just something stupid about... flying. And... Quidditch." The redhead lamented her poor lying skills and resorted to kissing Luke softly on the lips. He was sufficiently distracted.

On returning to his classmates, meanwhile, James moved directly towards Remus and Peter, who were laughing at a joke that a Hufflepuff named Liam Lyle had just told. Sirius had disappeared around twenty minutes ago, though they knew not where he went. James pulled the two present Marauders away from the crowd.

"Did either of you bring the cloak?" he asked in an undertone.

Remus shook his head. "Wormtail had it last."

James looked to Peter, who also shook his head. "Sorry, Prongs, it's up in the dorm. Why do you need it?"

"I had an idea," murmured the other, distracted. "I think I'm going to do a bit of nosing about in the Harpers' abandoned shop."

Remus looked skeptical. "I don't think that's a good idea, Prongs," he said, shaking his head. "A whole team of aurors couldn't find anything—I doubt you'll have anymore luck than they did. Anyway, it's dangerous."

"I'm going," said James firmly. "Are you two coming or not?"

Remus and Peter exchanged looks. "Fine," said Remus at last. "You go get the cloak from the castle; we'll wait here."

James nodded. He picked up his cloak and scarf, and with a final glance towards Lily and Luke, the Marauder pushed his way out of the pub.

(Sweet Caroline)

"Oh, my Merlin."

"I know, right?"

"Oh, my Merlin."

"I know."

"Oh, my Merlin."

"I know!"

"Oh, my..."

"Adam. Stop it."

Adam reluctantly complied with Marlene's order, instead running his eyes over the record he had just purchased as the two emerged from the shop. He held the item like a sacred object in danger of breaking.

"This is the greatest album of the decade," he said. "No, this is the greatest album of the century. No, this is the greatest album of the..."

"Adam." But there was amusement on her face. "It is good, isn't it?"

"It changed my life!"

Marlene laughed. "You've only heard half of it. Do you want to head up to the castle and listen to the rest?"

Adam considered it. "No," he responded at length. "I think I'll need time for this... you know, several hours, late at night, food... the experience."

Marlene shook her head. "You're mad, but it's up to you. What do you want to do next? We've already been to Zonko's and the Three Broomsticks..."

"What do you want to do?" Adam asked, tucking the new record under his arm cautiously.

"I dunno. I'm up for anything, really."

"Boring," declared the wizard, earning him a playful punch in the arm from his companion. "Seriously, Marlene. If you could do anything in the whole world right now, what would it be?"

Marlene sighed. "Coca Cola. I would love a Coca-Cola right now."

"Muggle drink?" inquired Adam, and she nodded. "Hmm... alright. Fair enough. What else?"

Marlene looked skeptical. "What do you mean?"

"What else do you want to do? Anything, c'mon."

Thoughtful, the blonde took some time to answer. At last, she said: "I would like to fly. The sky looks beautiful today. But obviously..."

"Let's do it."

"What?"

"Fly. The pitch will be clear all afternoon

"But the village..."

"...Will be here in two months when we have our next visit. If you want to fly, that's what we'll do."

"I don't want to waste your Hogsmeade weekend, though," Marlene protested weakly. "Just because I want to, doesn't mean..."

"I have my record. I'm happy. Honest." Adam held up the album indicatively, and his expression made Marlene laugh. "C'mon—you can practice for when you play on the team next year."

"There won't be any openings on the team next year," Marlene pointed out, but she was smiling. "Are—are you sure?"

Adam frowned. "No, I'm not."

"What?"

"I'm kidding—of course I'm sure. Now c'mon, we'll grab the next carriage up to the castle."

"I have to change," said Marlene, glancing at her skirt and stockings—not a particularly flying conducive ensemble. "And I haven't got a broom."

"We'll use one of the brooms from the shed. Everyone on the house teams has the password to get in. C'mon." He guided her up the street in the direction of the carriages to the castle.

"But are you...?"

"If you ask whether or not I'm certain one more time, Marlene Price, I will literally never let you borrow this record." They reached the nearest carriage, and he helped her inside, before taking a seat across from her.

"I'll go up to the castle and change clothes, then," said Marlene, "and you can get a couple of brooms from the shed. Deal?"

"Deal."

She held out her hand, and he took it, grinning. They shook, as though solidifying a critical arrangement, but, as he released her from his grip, Marlene felt something strange in the pit of her stomach... a squirming, agitated feeling that bore an odd resemblance to butterflies.

But... no. That... just... no. This was Adam. Sure, she had grown somewhat used to the fact that her stomach did back flips when he went out of his way to make her laugh, or when he grinned in his special "just for her" way, or when he wore his Quidditch robes, or... well... most of the times they had any contact... but that was because she was happy to see him... because he made her happy... because they were friends... because... because...

Adam's attention turned towards the window, where he lazily watched the afternoon sky, but Marlene was in the middle of a revelation and could not be bothered to remove her eyes from her companion. She ought to have been shocked—blown away by the sudden onslaught of previously uncategorized emotion, and yet none of it seemed very surprising at all. It seemed natural. It seemed to make sense. It seemed to fit. It seemed right.

When the carriage reached the school, the two parted ways—Adam towards the Quidditch pitch and Marlene, carrying Adam's record, towards the castle.

---

It was almost funny, Severus Snape mused, how easily the awkwardly shaped pieces fell into place. It was almost funny how the comparatively vague idea in his mind was molded into something solid—something concrete, that he could now manipulate to function properly.

It felt like solving a puzzle, when he saw his object exiting a Hogsmeade shop, wrapped up in her winter clothes and accompanied by her boy, both smiling and cheerful and nothing more than objects to him. Snape didn't second-guess that, because it had always been that way for him. Objects.

"Wait a minute," the Slytherin ordered of his companion, Hester, who had insisted on following Severus around all day, ready to gloat if he did accomplish the task, and to report him if he failed. Hester paused in his lazy trek up the main street and sent an inquisitive glance in Snape's direction.

"What? Have you spotted her?"

"I have an idea," was all Snape said. He jerked his head in the direction of the nearest alleyway, an indication for Hester to follow him, and—eyes subtly trained on the Gryffindor girl, chatting and laughing with her companion—Snape led the way there. In the alley, Hester folded his arms.

"What is it, Snape? I didn't see the mudblood..."

But before another word could be uttered, Snape whipped out his wand and, with a simple flick, threw Hester against the brick wall. He was disarmed before he even thought of reaching for his own wand, and Snape stepped close, wand jabbing at Hester's throat.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Snape?" barked the other, but he stopped—not by choice, but by the force of another spell from Severus. Short of breath and gasping for air, Hester's eyes narrowed.

"I'm going to do what I have to do, you know," said Snape coldly. "But don't think that I've forgotten your role in this, Hester. I want you to know: I'm going to get revenge. And it might take a very long time for me to get that opportunity, and you may think that I've forgotten, but I won't. Understand?"

"S-S-Snape..."

Snape moved his wand from Hester's neck to his forehead. "Confundo," he muttered, and at once, the other wizard's features relaxed. His eyes went blank, and Snape leaned closer still, whispering into his ear.

Both Slytherins emerged a few minutes later, walking side by side as though nothing had happened. Hester's face had not quite returned to normal though: his expression was too tranquil to be completely natural. They were out on the street only a few seconds, however, before his face changed, his dark eyes lighting with excitement. He spotted the witch, the object, just as Snape had, though she was now being helped into one of the carriages back to the school.

"There, Snape," said Hester gleefully; "She's going back to the castle... half the staff is down here and most of the students... it's perfect. This is the time."

Snape nodded. "Alright," he said calmly. "We'll take a carriage."

And they did. Their own transport arrived mere seconds after the first carriage; stepping onto the soft dirt path outside the castle, Snape reviewed the plan in his head.

He would use the Cruciatus. It seemed right, and it would firmly convince the others of his loyalties. Hester would look on; he would be the perfect witness, because he would not want to admit that Snape had done his job. Then, he would clear her memory... a clean wipe, so that she would not know who had attacked her or that any attack had even taken place... Lily must never know.

There was a practical purpose for this, too. If a student reported being attacked with the Cruciatus—even if they could not identify their assailant—things could get complicated, and Malfoy had ordered against complicated. At least for now.

Hester, meanwhile, strived to be on his guard. He saw, quite clearly, Lily Evans depart the carriage in front of them, losing her companion somewhere in the trip towards the castle. As the two Slytherins followed a short distance off, Hester saw the pretty redhead walk—with a certain skip in her step—across the empty Entrance Hall and up the marble staircase. He saw her ascend several staircases, until at last she reached a deserted corridor that she needed to cross in order to reach her destination—wherever that might be.

"No portraits here; we should be safe," Hester whispered to Snape, who nodded.

Hester felt a thrill, as he heard Snape call out: "Lily!" And then, when she turned, there was no time for the cheer to fade from her eyes before Snape followed the address with a murmured: "Crucio!"

Hester saw—and he would swear to it later—that he saw Lily Evans' legs buckle beneath her, as she fell to the ground in sheer pain.

However, what Hester saw, and what Snape saw (and what was, in fact, reality) were quite different. Hester did not really comprehend the strange, light-headed feeling he experienced, and he thought nothing of it. He remembered nothing of the alley way, and while he saw Lily Evans fall in agony, Severus Snape saw Marlene Price.

---

Professor Black's office door was unlocked, and Sirius didn't knock. He pushed through, and at once spotted his uncle standing near the fire, levitating a steaming kettle towards a china cup at wand point.

"Sirius," greeted the elder Black, surprised but not displeased by his nephew's unexpected appearance. "Not visiting the village today? Would you care for some tea, perh...?" He broke off, noticing the expression on Sirius's face for the first time. "Is something wro...?"

"You're dying," Sirius cut him off sharply. Black stared for a few moments, shocked, before he collected himself, set down the kettle, and sat down himself.

"Have a seat, won't you, Sirius?"

"No I will not!" the other shouted. "You could be dead any day now, and you didn't even tell me? Were you ever going to tell me, or was I supposed to figure it out when they started sending a substitute for Defense Class?!"

"Sirius..."

"No! Stop that! Stop speaking to me like I'm six, alright? Stop treating me like I'm a child!"

"That was never my intent," Black began earnestly. "And I do not know where you've gotten this information..."

"Are you denying it, then?" snapped Sirius.

Black took some time to reply. "It's a bit more complicated than that, Sirius. I am sick. Beyond that, the Healers do not agree when precisely..."

"But you are going to die?"

"Well," replied the professor with a sigh, "we all know we are going to die someday."

"Yeah, but most people don't know what's going to do the job."

"Sirius, I could have as much as six months..."

"Six months?" shouted Sirius, anger surging again. "I heard a year... what the hell do you mean 'six months?'"

"Healer Holloway conducted another examination three days ago," said Black quietly. "Six months is the outside estimate. It's new information. I haven't told the staff yet..."

"Forget the staff!" Sirius bellowed. "You didn't tell me! Three days you've known! We spoke for twenty minutes after class the other day about Andromeda's letter, and you didn't say a word! Tell me the truth: were you ever going to tell me?"

"I wanted to very much," Black replied. "Truly, I did. I was coward, and I..."

"Oh, shut up!" bit the younger wizard. He didn't care that this was his professor, his uncle, or his elder. He had been deceived... he had been tricked into believing that his uncle would be there for him... "You lied to me! You let me think I actually had a friend who wasn't blasted off the goddamned family tree! You tried to get me to make up with Regulus—what the hell for? So you could have a clean conscience when you kick it next week? And you didn't even have the nerve to tell me! What? You didn't think I could handle it?"

"No, Sirius, of course not..."

"Then why?"

"Because," began Professor Black, "I did not want to be another person that you felt had abandoned you."

Sirius's grey eyes grew dark. "Oh, I see," he muttered, "you were worried about my issues. How considerate of you. How bloody thoughtful." He shook his head, laughing bitterly. "Well don't trouble yourself, Uncle. You won't be obliged to coddle poor little Sirius and his abandonment issues any longer. I'm leaving now." Sirius started for the door. "And stay the hell away from me." He slammed the office door behind him.

(Blue Moon)

James jogged along the second floor corridor, cursing his own lack of foresight in forgetting the Invisibility Cloak. The carriages had brought him up to the castle considerably quicker than any of his secret passages would have, but—all the same—the fifteen minutes required had seemed an eternity. He was positively burning to get back down to the village and have a poke around the Harpers' abandoned store.

James picked up his pace. However, perhaps it would have been wiser if he had not, for as he turned a corner, he turned much too sharply and collided with a suit of armor.

"Son of a bitch!" James swore loudly, cradling his wrist, which had hit the suit at an unfortunate angle. Wincing, James stepped back to gather himself. "Agrippa's sake," he muttered, "I swear that stupid thing's never been there before!"

He was right, actually. The suit of armor, and several others about the castle, had been jinxed to follow first years as part of an elaborate prank the day before. The spell had worn off at just that spot in the second floor corridor, and Filch, noting a large suit of armor in the middle of the corridor, had pushed it towards the wall, perhaps a little too close to the corner.

And who was responsible for the prank in the first place?

James Potter and Sirius Black.

So, looking at things from an ethical standpoint, one might say that James had it coming.

"I swear that stupid thing's never been there before," James was saying, rubbing his sore wrist and limping at a marginally slower pace down the corridor. He was walking normally by the time he reached the next corner, and he took that one with considerably more caution.

However, what he saw wiped around the corner James's mind clean of the Invisibility Cloak, of the Harpers' shop, of the suit of armor, and of anything resembling pain that remained within him. Some distance away, the figure of a person—a witch by the look of it—lay in a heap on the ground. She was sobbing.

James took off at a sprint towards the girl, and he was nearly halfway there before he realized who it was.

"Marlene!" he half shouted, skidding to a stop as he reached her. Marlene's eyes were firmly closed, her pale cheeks streaked with tears and her caramel colored hair fanned out along the stone floor. James was on his knees in a second, pulling up her head from the ground as he tried to guide her into a sitting position. Marlene's face was pale like death, her pupils strangely dilated, and her breaths short, raspy, and uneven. "Marlene, are you okay?" James pressed, trying to check if she was bleeding. But she looked intact—her clothes were, visibly at least, unmarred, and she had no cut or bruise that he could see.

Yet her expression was broken. As James held her head up, her blue eyes closed, her breathing became more staccato, and she continued to weep.

"Marlene, are you alright?" James continued. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

Marlene clutched at the front of James's robes, pulling herself up. He assisted this, sliding one leg behind her back to sit her up. Marlene attempted to compose herself.

"Cruciatus," she managed to mutter. James suddenly felt very cold.

"Someone used an Unforgivable Curse?" he nearly shouted. "Who...? Marlene, who did this to you?"

The witch took a moment to compose herself. She wiped away tears with the back of her hand and considered the question carefully. "I don't know," she said at last. "I—I don't think I saw his face."

"It was a bloke, though? You're certain?"

"I'm n-not quite... I'm not very certain of anything." Her face contorted as she strived to withhold more tears, and James realized that she must still be in a great deal of pain.

"You're going to the Hospital Wing," he said firmly.

"No, James, I'll..."

"How long?"

"How long what?" One of her hands flew to her face, wiping away cold sweat and tears.

"How long were you under?" James pressed.

"I—I couldn't say," she finally. "It was all so... but if I had to... I mean, I think, perhaps... maybe five or... maybe ten minutes?" At once, James slipped an arm under the crook of her knees, pulling her up into his arms and— with some difficulty—staggering to his feet. "James, please, I..."

"You have to get to the Infirmary," he said sternly. "Now. And I have to fetch Dumbledore... someone used an Unforgivable... that's big. That's not..."

"Please," interrupted Marlene, unexpectedly lucid. "Please don't tell anyone..."

"Healer Holloway will have to report it anyway," James pointed out.

"No," said Marlene, sniffing. "I know that. But... no one else... the teachers of course, but... no one else. Please."

"Marlene, you're not making any sense," James sighed. "Calm down. Everything's going to be alright. We're almost there."

"James..." But they reached the infirmary doors just then.

He was too confused. Shaking his head, James agreed: "Fine. Alright, fine. I'll wait for you to tell them everything. C'mon." He pushed open the Infirmary doors, supporting Marlene as she limped inside.

"What's going on here?" asked Healer Holloway, who stood next to one row of cots, changing the sheets by magic.

"She's been cursed," said James at once. Marlene gripped his arm tight, as Holloway came closer.

"Cursed how?" he grumbled. James hesitated, looking at Marlene. She was quiet for a moment, and Holloway stared between the two. "Well?"

"Cruciatus," Marlene whispered at last. Holloway gasped. James had never seen the older wizard express so much emotion. He took hold of Marlene and steered her to a cot.

"You, Potter," Holloway barked, "Find Professor McGonagall. Now."

James nodded, hastening out of the Hospital Wing to comply. Outside, he paused, pulling the Marauders' Map from the pocket of his cloak. "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good." He scanned the map for anyone nearby who might have been responsible, but the area was clear. Swearing under his breath, James looked for McGonagall, and found her in the Staff Room... that knowledge would save him time in searching for her. But first...

James wiped the map and stuffed it back in the pocket of his robes, before pulling from his other pocket a small, round mirror. He stared into the glass and said: "Sirius Black." Nothing happened. "Sirius Black," James repeated. Again, there was no answer. He repeated the request several more times, but with identical unsatisfactory results. James swore and replaced the mirror in his pocket. He paused for a few moments to think until an idea struck him.

Automatically, James analyzed the image of the castle's layout in his mind. If he took the secret passageway around the corner (the one behind the tapestry of Boris the Bewildered), he would get to the owlry in under three minutes and back down to the Staff Room in five. James set off in the direction of the Boris the Bewildered Tapestry. As predicted, he reached the owlry in a matter of minutes.

Without pausing for a moment, James moved to the suspended table along the east wall of the room, where there were quills, ink, and parchment for student use. He scribbled a note, hailed the nearest bird, and tied his message to the creature's leg.

He knew what he'd told Marlene, but really—she would want her friends to know. "Remus Lupin at the Three Broomstick," the Quidditch Captain instructed the owl—a snowy white bird. James was out of the room before it was.

---

"Where exactly is the pain?"

"And you're certain you didn't see his face?"

"Are you experiencing any numbness?"

"But you're certain it was a male?"

"How long did the curse last?"

"How long did the curse last?"

Neither Healer Holloway nor Professor McGonagall seemed to be showing much compassion for Marlene's headache, which throbbed considerably as both adults bombarded her with questions. Already in a considerably confused state of mind, Marlene shook her head, massaging her forehead wearily.

"Please," the blonde pleaded, closing her eyes in concentration. "Please, just give me a moment. I'll answer your questions just... just one at a time. Please."

McGonagall realized the sense in this at once. She looked towards Healer Holloway and nodded, indicating that he might interrogate the unfortunate witch first. Holloway stepped forward. "Where exactly do you still feel pain, Miss Price?"

Marlene, who was seated on a cot in the Infirmary with Frank Longbottom and James Potter standing not far off, as well as the Transfiguration teacher and school Healer, considered the question. "Here, mostly." She rubbed her chest—just below the collarbone—gingerly, before adding: "And my head, and a bit in my legs."

Holloway nodded, examining each place she had specified. "And are you experiencing any numbness?" Marlene said that she wasn't, before adding that she had been under the curse for somewhere between five and ten minutes, if her memory could be trusted.

McGonagall now moved forward and began to question Marlene. Across the room, James and Frank sat in conference. The former had encountered the Head Boy on his way to fetch McGonagall, and the latter had insisted on following him back to the Infirmary.

"And you didn't see anyone at all?" Frank asked in an undertone; James shook his head.

"Whoever it was had already left by the time I arrived," he said. "I even searched the..." he checked himself, "the area... no one was on the floor."

"But they'll be able to tell who was in the castle," the Head Boy pressed. "I mean, most people were down in the village by then. Besides the first and second years, there couldn't have been that many students at the school."

"You were," James pointed out. Frank flushed.

"'Didn't much feel like a holiday in Hogsmeade," he muttered. That gave James an idea.

"Listen, I'll be right back." Frank nodded, as James slipped out of the infirmary, closing the door behind him. No one was about, and he once again withdrew the Marauders' Map, summoning its contents with the usual words. There were far fewer dots roaming the corridors today—most of the younger students were outside, in the library, or in their Common Rooms. Sirius Black was down by the lake (Godric only knew why, and he wasn't answering on the mirror...), while Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, Donna Shacklebolt, Mary Macdonald, and Alice Griffiths were making quick progress towards the Hospital Wing—Moony had received his letter apparently and followed the instructions. But there were not many other older students about.

Almost on instinct, James's eyes moved towards the Slytherin Common Room, and then towards the Slytherin dormitories. Two dots sat in one of the rooms: Saul Hester and Severus Snape.

Footsteps and loud voices hailed the imminent arrival of James's fellow Gryffindors, and the Marauder immediately cleared and hid the map, just as Lupin and the girls rounded the corner.

"Is she...?" began Mary fearfully.

"She's with McGonagall and Holloway now," said James. "Conscious and everything, don't worry. I'll let her explain." Mary, Donna, Lily, and Alice all entered the Infirmary immediately, but James halted Remus with a look. "Can I talk to you a moment?" Remus nodded, and James once again pulled the door closed behind him. "Marlene was attacked with the Cruciatus," he said urgently; Remus's eyes grew wide. "She didn't see who attacked her, but I've been looking on the map for someone else in the castle who could have done it... it happened almost an hour ago, but guess who is sitting in the Slytherin Boys' dormitories right now."

Remus arched an eyebrow. "Snape?" he guessed. James nodded. "I dunno, Prongs... if I attacked someone, I wouldn't hang about waiting for someone to catch me. I'd go somewhere with people—establish an alibi, y'know..."

"He's not alone," said James quickly. "That Hester git is with him. And no one else is about."

"But like you said, it was almost an hour ago. That's plenty of time to get out of the castle... maybe go back down to the Village." James glared. "I'm not saying you're wrong, but we haven't any proof."

"Hmph. It's Snape. What proof do you need?"

"You're not planning on going into the law, are you, Prongs?"

"Very funny."

"C'mon." Remus jerked his head towards the Infirmary doors. "Let's look in on Marlene."

On re-entering the room, it was clear that Mary had already had the girls banished from Marlene's bedside, as they had moved to a corner of the room and were talking in hushed voices. James and Remus, meanwhile, approached Frank.

"What's Alice doing here?" asked the Head Boy at once.

"She was talking with Lily when I found her," explained Remus. "She wanted to come along."

"With Lily? I thought she'd be with Sirius." It was the closest thing to contempt James had ever heard in Frank Longbottom's voice. He might have been offended, if he wasn't thoroughly annoyed with his best mate at the moment.

"I tried to get in touch with Sirius," James told Remus cryptically, and Frank knew better than to question the vaguely enigmatic language that the Marauders used. "No answer."

"Where is he?" asked Remus.

"By the lake, last I checked."

"Did he..." Remus paused, trying to figure out how to phrase the question. "Did he take everything that he needed with him this morning?" James knew he meant he mirror, and nodded.

"I saw him packing up myself."

"You think he's alright?"

James sighed. "He was fine a few hours ago. He's probably just in 'angst' mode." He had little sympathy just now. "Where's Pete?"

"There wasn't enough room in the carriage," said Remus. "So he agreed to wait for the next one. He should be along any minute."

"Everyone," said Professor McGonagall loudly and suddenly, calling the students to silence, "Miss Price is going to sleep for a while. There's no reason for the rest of you to remain while..."

"But we haven't been allowed to speak with her yet!" protested Mary. Professor McGonagall looked appealingly to Healer Holloway, who merely shrugged.

"They can stay if they want..." he grunted. "But it'll be a wait. I'm having her sleep for a few hours; that should diminish the lingering effects."

"Very well," sighed McGonagall. "You may here for Miss Price to wake up, or you may return to your dormitories." She gave them all pointed looks, before sweeping out of the room.

"Reckon the Ministry will come and investigate?" Remus wondered aloud. Frank shook his head.

"Something like this happened in my first year," he told them. "No one used an Unforgivable, but someone used some serious dark magic... blew up a huge chunk of the third floor corridor. No one knew who did it, though, so the Ministry sent some lecturer, and the whole school had to sit through a fairly uninformative seminar on why we're not supposed to do dark magic."

"That's it?" asked James. Frank nodded.

"What else could they do?"

Healer Holloway, who had departed to his office in search of a sleeping draught, returned. The girls had all gathered around Marlene's bed and were once again obliged to move off. Before she took her potion, Marlene turned to James.

"You said you wouldn't tell," she accused.

"I thought you would want your friends to know," replied James honestly. She sighed, but her frown faded a bit, as she emptied the vial that Healer Holloway provided for her. She lay back down on her pillow, and was asleep in a matter of minutes.

"Don't wake her," cautioned Holloway, before returning to his office. James exhaled heavily and sat down on an unoccupied cot. To his surprise, however, Lily sat down next to him.

"Can you tell us what happened?" the prefect asked softly. She was sitting very close, but her eyes were fixed on Marlene.

"I only saw her after it was over," James admitted. "But I heard some of what she told Holloway and McGonagall. She was attacked by someone—she thinks it was a bloke, and then she was under for... for a while."

"That can do bad things to your head," Remus muttered darkly.

"She seemed fine," Mary spoke up at once. "I mean, she didn't seem... messed up."

"She'll be alright," Lily stated. "She has to be. But who could have done this? Why would anyone attack Marlene? She's... she's never hurt anyone."

James looked at her, wanting very much to tell her what he knew and believed about Snape. But it wouldn't do to talk about it now... not with everyone there. It would have to wait until later. Lily chewed on her lip as she watched her friend's sleeping figure. Mary went to sit beside Alice on another vacant cot on the other side of Marlene's bed, while Donna stood, leaning against the wall with her arms folded, uncharacteristically quiet.

---

It was suppertime when Sirius arrived in the Hospital Wing. The seating arrangement had changed significantly. Mary and Alice sat in a corner, where they had been whispering non-stop for hours. Lily was now on the floor, back against the wall, but she had fallen asleep on the also sleeping Remus's shoulder. Peter, who had arrived hours before, sat with Frank, and they were playing cards on one of the cots. Donna now sat where she had stood before, but her cold, unreadable expression remained unchanged.

When Sirius entered, confusion on his face, James crossed the room to meet him. "Where have you been?" he asked in an undertone. "I tried calling you over the mirror, but you didn't answer."

"I went for a walk," replied Sirius moodily, shrugging of the question. "What's everyone doing here, anyway?"

"Don't you know?"

Padfoot shook his head. "I just thought I'd check... you and Moony and Wormtail didn't show for supper... the dorm was empty, and I thought one of you might've been hurt or something... what's going on?"

"Someone used the Cruciatus on Marlene Price."

Sirius's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Is she alright?"

"She's sleeping."

"Then what are you lot doing here?"

James rolled his eyes. "People are concerned, Padfoot. Anyway, there's something I want to ask her when she wakes up. I think I might have an idea who attacked her, and I want to see if she thinks the voice might've..." He noticed his friend's skeptical expression. "What?"

"Nothing," said Sirius. "Nothing at all. What's Alice doing here?"

James was getting annoyed. "She was with Lily and wanted to come along."

"Oh. Did she... er... did she say anything?"

James crossed his arms. "She asked if I'd seen you," he snapped. "Agrippa's sake, are you seriously questioning me about this right now? Sirius, Marlene is in induced sleep because she spent several minutes under the Cruciatus Curse. Holloway is just hoping there isn't lasting damage to her mind. A student is—in all likelihood—responsible. And you're standing there, wondering about what your date thinks of you?"

Sirius stood in mutinous silence, heightening James's irritation.

"For once, this isn't about you, Sirius," he continued heatedly. "If you're going to be self-centered, you might as well leave."

"Fine," retorted the other. "I don't want to rain on your heroic little parade any longer." He turned and exited the Hospital Wing. James returned to his spot with Frank and Peter, resuming the hand of cards he had formerly held. Alice joined them a few seconds later.

"Is he okay?" she asked.

James frowned. "He's as self-centered and idiotic as ever," grumbled the Marauder, in no mood for romantic heart-to-hearts. "Why wouldn't he be okay?"

"He—he didn't... talk to you about anything... troubling him?" Alice continued.

"No. What are you on about?"

"Lovely," huffed the seventh year. "Just lovely. Honestly... boys." With that, she too exited the Hospital Wing. James shrugged.

"Well, I'm all out," Frank announced, setting down his last pair of cards.

"Some blokes have all the luck," grumbled Peter, who held nearly a dozen cards in his hand.

The Head Boy shook his head. "Not exactly."

--

"Sirius, please wait up!" Alice called after the Marauder for the third time, and at last he paused in his progression down the corridor. She hurried after him, pulling his arm and forcing him to face her. Sirius waited for her to speak, while she studied his face carefully. "Did you speak to your uncle?"

He nodded mutely.

"And?"

"He has six months at best," he replied with a mirthless smile. Alice's brown eyes lit with pity.

"Oh, Sirius, I'm so sorry."

He shook his head. "'Doesn't matter."

"Of course it does!"

"No, it doesn't." He didn't elaborate. "You should get back to the others."

"Why didn't you tell James?" Alice asked, ignoring him. Sirius glared in the direction of the Hospital Wing. "He's your best mate."

"He was too busy playing at detective. Anyway, I don't want to talk about it."

"But Sirius..."

"Alice, stop it, alright?" Her hand had rested on his arm, and he pulled it away suddenly. "Stop this, alright? I'm sorry for... well, I'm just sorry, okay? You're a nice girl; you really are. And I am... I am way too complicated."

"But..."

"I'm not good for you... and there's a bloke that is... who's mad about you, and who you're mad about, and everything else is... everything else is just you kidding yourself. So go, please—you don't have any obligation to me, and..."

"Sirius Black," snapped Alice. "While I'm grateful for your more than slightly condescending gentle letdown, I'm not here for you because I'm looking for a relationship, alright? I'm here because you just found out your uncle has six months to live, and I think you need someone."

"Oh."

"And I know I'm not your best mate or anything, but as someone who has your best interests at heart, please talk to James. He is your best mate, and you can't—you shouldn't let your sadness make you angry, or make you push your friends away."

"I'm not sad," said Sirius. "I'm not. I don't like to be lied to... not by anyone, and..." He stopped. "I don't want to talk about this. Please just leave me alone."

Alice sighed heavily. "I will," she said. "But don't do anything stupid."

Sirius did not reply. Instead, he turned and continued to trudge down the corridor. Alice returned to the Hospital Wing; at the door, her eyes flickered towards Frank, who seemed to be out of the game, but held conversation with his two Marauder companions. Shaking her head, Alice sat down next to Donna.

"What's with Black?" the sixth year asked dully.

"Bad day I guess," answered Alice. "How are you? You're awfully quiet."

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"Well, I am."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you sure you want to keep asking stupid questions?"

"Yes."

"Well..." Donna broke off. "I feel guilty," she said unexpectedly. "It's not my fault. Rationally, I know that. I had nothing to do with this. I literally had nothing to do with this.But Marlene and I had been fighting—more than usual—and I didn't apologize, and I should have just apologized, and now she's in the Hospital Wing, and it's not even like she's dying, so this is just stupid, but for whatever reason, I feel guilty." She finished and looked at Alice. "Don't tell Lily. She'll gloat."

Alice patted Donna's shoulder awkwardly. "She isn't dying, Donna. You can still apologize."

"I know... but I probably won't."

Alice nodded. "Yes, that sounds about right."

---

What was taking them so long?

Snape paced his dormitory tensely, wand held tight between his fingers, just in case someone decided to circumvent Dumbledore and pay the Slytherin dorms a visit on their own. Even if it didn't come to that, he was expecting something. Three hours and no one had so much as knocked on the Slytherin sixth year boys' dormitory door. Was it possible his hastily applied Confundus Curse had actually worked on Marlene Price? It didn't seem likely—he had tried to erase his face from her memory, but Hester had been in such a panic after hearing someone in the next corridor, and it was distracting... she certainly remembered the attack itself... the pain of the Cruciatus (it had been every bit as thrilling as the books promised) was still written on her mind when the two Slytherins left. Surely she would tell Dumbledore or McGonagall or someone that she had been hexed into forgetting, and it wouldn't take much work on the staff's part to reconstruct her memory.

Even still, three hours had passed, and Snape was still alone... well, not quite. Severus cast an irritable eye over his shoulder to where Hester lay asleep on a bed. It was all his fault, really... he had gone to pieces at the noise—started to run away and tried to drag Snape along with him. Severus had needed to wrap it up quickly with all the commotion his dimwitted companion was making, and it made him sloppy.

On their retreat to the dormitory, Snape hadn't known what else to do with Hester. A second Confundus Charm served to ensure that he would remember nothing of his own assault and just enough of Snape's attack on Marlene (whom he still believed to be Lily) that he would be able to testify for Malfoy. Then, because he had become so weary of Hester's bewitched chatter, Snape cast a quick sleeping spell and levitated him to the nearest bed. Hester would wake up oblivious in a few hours, but Snape had no doubt that by then, his own stay at Hogwarts would have been terminated.

He wasn't seventeen, yet, and he hadn't killed anyone. They couldn't send him to Azkaban, but he'd be expelled for certain.

So long as it didn't become generally known that Marlene Price—not Lily Evans—had been attacked, Severus didn't mind that so much... He wouldn't go home. He would join the death eaters, full time. He would serve the Dark Lord... he would have unlimited hours to study the Dark Arts, unlimited resources to expand his own prowess... it would all go according to his preexisting plan, except that he could have it all earlier.

Only one thing kept Sev in the Slytherin dormitories just then. It was the sole reason he hadn't already fled to Hogsmeade to avoid the formalities of Dumbledore's inevitable visit (of his own inevitable expulsion). It was the sole reason he had for hesitation about leaving Hogwarts—the one thing he still clung to.

Lily.

And it was irrational, he knew, because after this, it would be a long, long time before Lily would agree to see him again. He didn't know how long—how powerful he would have to be to win her back—but he knew it would be a matter of years, not months. So, though Snape knew he could leave—that he would be seeing Lily much sooner than she would be seeing him—he similarly recognized that it would be difficult, arduous, and that he needed to really see her one last time.

He prayed that she would have no opportunity to shoot him a sad, disappointed look. He hated that look.

Snape squirmed uncomfortably at the thought. He constructed a scene in his imagination... his being led out of Hogwarts, shamed in the eyes of most of the idiots there... Lily's furious, beautiful glare... her anger, but not her hatred (no, never her hatred). True hate might have been Sev's frequent companion, but it was an impossibility for Lily Evans. Of that, Snape was certain.

He paused, thinking he heard footsteps on the stair outside, but after a minute of silence, realized that this too must have been a product of his imagination. Snape resumed pacing.

He could handle the situation. He could handle the expulsion and the risk... it was the waiting that killed him.

What was taking them so long?

---

Marlene's eyes fluttered open around seven o'clock. Donna noticed first. "She's awake," she said loudly, getting up and crossing the room to Marlene's bedside. The others followed at once.

"How are you?" asked Lily first; "does anything still hurt? Because I've read a lot about it, and if it doesn't wear off, that could mean..." She stopped. "Sorry. Go on."

Marlene sat up in her bed. "I feel better," she said. "Drowsy, but... nothing hurts. I'm fine."

"What happened?" asked Remus. "I mean, James told us part of it, but... you really don't have any idea who could have done this? You haven't been receiving death threats that you just—I don't know—forgot to mention?"

Marlene shook her head. "And have any of you heard anything? From Professor McGonagall or anyone?" They hadn't. "I hope they don't announce it... I'd really rather as few people know I was attacked as possible."

"Why?" James wanted to know.

"It's awkward, that's all. The stares, the questions... I don't want to be 'the girl that got attacked.'"

"Well, we won't tell," Alice assured her. "Someone should fetch Healer Holloway." Donna left to do it, and Marlene began to explain what had happened.

"There isn't too much to tell," she confessed. "I was walking and then someone... someone called out—it was a male voice. I turned, but... before I got a good look, I was hit with the first... the first Cruciatus Curse. That lasted for a while, and then it stopped, and then it started again... and then it stopped, but I could still feel it, y'know? Then the person left, and... then I heard James's voice calling my name. I can't even be sure how much time passed, only... Mary, are you crying?"

"Yes!" sobbed Mary pitifully. "I can't help it! You're my best friend, and I don't tell you that enough, and...!"

"Mary, I'm not dying," Marlene pointed out.

"I know, but... but..." She didn't finish, instead throwing her arms around Marlene in a watery embrace. Marlene smiled as she patted Mary on the back, and the others looked on, amused in spite of themselves. Then, Healer Holloway arrived with Donna at his heals.

"Move over then," he grumbled, and they cleared a path for him to examine Marlene. "Any more pain? Any at all?"

"No."

"Hmph. Numbness? Shortness of breath?"

"No."

"Disorientation?"

"No."

"Light-headedness?"

"No."

"Anything unusual at all?" Marlene shook her head. "Very well," said Holloway. "I'm going to ask you a few simple questions, just to be certain of your mentality. What's your full name?"

"Marlene Katharine Price."

"Birthday?"

"July twelfth."

"School house and colors."

"Gryffindor, red and gold."

Holloway continued in this fashion for several minutes, asking everything from favorite dessert to childhood pets. She answered them all quite clearly and without hesitation, until at last Holloway seemed satisfied. "Alright, then," he said, crossing his arms, as though he would rather not admit it: "You seem to be recovered. But you'll come straight back, should you experience anything odd over the next couple of days, understand?"

"Yes."

"I'll have to fill out a report," the Healer went on, "And I'll get you a sleeping potion, or you'll be up half the night after that nap. Wait here."

He left, and as he did, Remus stepped forward. "It's good to see you're okay, Marlene. I'm headed down to the kitchens now—do you want me to get you anything?"

"No, thank-you, though."

"I'll come too," said Peter.

"Me, too," said Frank.

"Coming, James?" asked Remus, starting for the door.

"No, I'll meet you in the dormitory," said James. "There's something I want to speak with Marlene about first."

Remus nodded and left with the others. "I should go, too," said Alice sadly. She gave Marlene a one armed hug. "You ask me if there's anything you need, alright?"

"Thank-you," said Marlene again, and Alice, too left.

"You know," said Mary, sitting down on the edge of Marlene's cot. "There's one thing I don't understand about this. Why weren't you in the village? What were you doing in the castle to begin with?"

Suddenly, the blonde's eyes grew very wide. "Shit," she swore. "Adam! I completely forgot! He must..."

Just then, the Infirmary door opened, and—as if summoned by the sound of his name—Adam McKinnon appeared.

"I am so sorry...!" Marlene began to say, but Adam cut her off.

"Are you alright? Sirius didn't say much, except that you were here, and..."

At that point, James stopped listening. Entering just behind Adam was Sirius. At first, the Marauder kept his gaze on the floor, but he soon looked upward, locking eyes with James. They didn't say anything, but James nodded slightly, and Sirius inclined his head, and they both understood.

"Marlene!" shouted a new voice suddenly.

"Bloody hell, it's like Kings' Cross Station in here, the way people are coming and going!" muttered Donna, folding her arms irritably. The latest arrival, however, was considerably less welcome. Miles Stimpson rushed to Marlene's bedside and planted his lips firmly on hers, making everyone else present feel as though they ought not be there.

"Miles!" cried Marlene, pushing him away. "What are you doing? How did you find out I was here?!"

"There was a rumor that someone was unconscious in the Hospital Wing," explained the Ravenclaw hastily. "And you weren't at supper, so I thought perhaps... Marlene, I am so sorry! I should have been there for you! This whole thing is stupid, and I'm sorry, and I love..."

"Miles!" Marlene cut him off sharply. "Can we have this conversation later? I'm fine. I'm not dead... not even close! I'll speak with you later!"

"No, Marly, don't you see? When I thought you might be seriously hurt, I realized something—I've been really stupid, I know that, and I can't apologize enough, really! But before—I wasn't really ready! I wasn't ready to be with you completely, and so I was a git! But now I'm ready! And it'll be different! Really, Marly, I love you, and I want to be your boyfriend."

Everyone was uncomfortably quiet. Marlene blinked twice. "Excuse me?" she said finally. "You're ready now? What the bloody hell of you been doing for the last two and a half years? If you weren't 'ready' to be in a relationship with me, why were we in one?"

"But, Marly..."

"No!" Marlene very well near shrieked. "You said you wanted to talk about this now—let's talk about this now! You're a git, and a cheat, and a liar, and you never listened to me! Like when I said I hated the nickname 'Marly.' Yeah, I said that! Like a hundred times! You were a terrible boyfriend, and whether or not you're 'ready' now, Miles Stimpson, you and I are now and always will be over!"

"Mar—Marlene...!"

"I already broke up with you once, Miles! Do I have to do it again?"

"Marlene, you're tired, and..."

Unable to contain herself, the blonde picked up the tissue box on her bedside table and hurled it at Miles, who dodged it easily, but re-emerged looking a sad mixture of embarrassed and furious. Without a word, he turned and stormed out of the Infirmary.

A long, awkward silence followed.

"I wonder," began Sirius at length, "how he thought that conversation was going to end. I imagine it didn't include the tissue."

"No, rather without the tissue," James agreed.

Lily, Mary, Donna, and Adam at least found this funny, but they ineffectually smothered laughter as Marlene buried her face in her hands. "Good God, let this day be over," she pleaded, but she too was smiling—if somewhat weakly—when she moved her hands away from her face to push her hair back. "I have such a headache..."

And that, unfortunately for Marlene, was the precise moment that Healer Holloway decided to reappear. "A headache?" he inquired, hastening to her side. "How severe? How long have you had it?"

"No, no, no," protested Marlene hastily. "It's not like that! It's just, my ex-boyfriend was here, and I had to break up with him again, and..."

But Holloway would have none of it. He insisted that Marlene stay the night for further observation, and, after a great deal of protesting, she relented. "Everyone out," ordered Holloway crossly; "I'll have supper brought up to Miss Price, and the rest of you can return to your dormitories now. She's had quite enough company."

Their protests were equally ignored, and as Holloway hobbled back to his office to file away Marlene's forms, the others were left to say their goodbyes.

"Marlene," began Donna unsteadily, "Listen, I just... I wanted to say that I..." She didn't quite catch anyone's eye. "I just... you know, er... that is, I..."

"Right," interrupted Marlene. "Me too."

Donna nodded, smiling faintly. "I'll see you in the tomorrow."

"'Bye, Love," said Lily, smiling warmly at Marlene. "I'm proud of you, you know."

"For getting attacked?" queried the blonde, confused.

Lily laughed and shook her head. "For flinging a tissue box at Miles's head."

"'Love you, dear," said Mary, hugging her friend. "Don't unexpectedly die during the night, if you please."

"I'll do my best."

The three girls trudged away, and James stepped closer to the bed. He didn't really mind if Adam and Sirius—the only others left there now—overheard what he had to say to Marlene. "Listen, I know you're tired, but there's something I've got to ask you." She nodded. "Because of the Hogsmeade weekend, there weren't a lot of people in the castle when you were attacked."

"Right..."

"One of the few people that was in the castle... that is... well, it doesn't really matter how I know this, but... just... there was one older student. Do you think the voice that you heard... calling you, before you were attacked... do you think it could've been Severus Snape?"

Marlene's face grew pale. She did not answer for several seconds, and she stared off into space, as though thinking very deeply about her reply. "No," she said at last. "I don't think so."

James frowned. "But you can't be sure?"

"I don't think it was him, James."

"But you don't know, and..."

"James, let it go. It wasn't Snape."

"How do you know, if...?"

"I just know it wasn't him," insisted the witch. "The voice isn't right."

James softened a bit. "You're sure?"

"I wouldn't say so if I wasn't sure," Marlene replied.

"Alright then." James nodded slowly. "I hope you feel better."

He started to leave, but Marlene called him back. "Thank-you," she said. "For taking care of me, and taking me here, and... telling all of my friends, even though I asked you not to."

James grinned slightly. "You're welcome." He left with Sirius, and Marlene and Adam were alone.

"I'm so sorry," she reiterated earnestly. "And you know, I think I dropped your record in the hallway."

Adam smiled. "I'm not very easy to convince, Mar, but when your excuse for standing me up is that you got attacked with an Unforgivable Curse... even I'm going to cut you some slack, there." Marlene tried to smile back, but instead, her face distorted oddly, like she was about to cry. Adam hurried up to her. "What's wrong?"

"I've done something terrible," Marlene whispered, sniffing. "I don't think I can take it back, either."

"What are you talking about? You haven't done anything wrong! Certainly not Miles..."

"No." She shook her head quickly. "No, not Miles. It's something else... I can't explain it." The witch looked up and met Adam's eye. "You know you mean a lot to me, don't you? And—earlier today, I thought... but... right now... right now I just need a friend. I just—I just need someone to tell me everything is going to be alright."

Adam was quiet for some time. "Everything's going to be alright," he said at last, but his voice shook a little. He sat on the edge of her bed, and slipped an arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Thank-you." Marlene closed her eyes, allowing the long withheld tears to trickle down her cheeks. Adam said nothing, but pulled her closer, so that as he leaned back against the wall, her tears fell onto the front of his shirt. She began to cry properly, her shoulders shaking as she wept, but still he said nothing, and—some time later—when Healer Holloway came by and saw the two sleeping teenagers, he, too, said nothing.

(Some Enchanted Evening)

Remus and Peter always knew just what to get from the kitchens, James reflected, as the Marauders feasted in their dormitory that evening. Without so much as asking, they had brought back what could only be described as the perfect meal, and so, with ham and potatoes and cake and treacle tart and a wide variety of breads and puddings and drinks, the boys sat on the floor, talking about things that didn't matter.

They were just finishing laughing at a story Sirius related to them, sobering up and having some more butterbeer, when Peter spoke up: "Something feels different, doesn't it?"

James raised his eyebrows. "Different how?"

"I don't know," said the other. "Just... different. Unforgivable Curses at Hogwarts... didn't it used to be the only thing we had to be afraid of were... 'Levicorpus' and jelly leg hexes?"

The others were quiet, before Sirius said, cheerfully: "Don't worry yourself about it, Wormy. If you're afwaid of the big bad Switherins, we'll get some Hufflepuff girls to protect you!"

Peter blushed, the others laughed it off, and nothing more was said on the topic. Later, while Remus cleared up the remains of the supper, Sirius and James moved to a corner of the dormitory.

"That was a pretty decent thing you did," said James, "finding Adam McKinnon, I mean."

"It's a bit trickier finding someone without the map," Sirius agreed, grinning.

"I'm sorry I said you were self-centered."

"I'm sorry I was a git to you."

They both nodded.

"So are you going to tell me?" asked James, and off of Sirius's inquisitive look, he continued: "Are you going to tell me what happened? What is it that Alice knows about you and I don't? Are you going to tell me?"

Sirius hesitated. "I will," he replied. "But... not yet. I don't... really want to talk about it just now."

James nodded. "Well... I'll be around."

"Yeah. Thanks."

--

It was like a bad joke.

Wearily, Lily stepped into her dormitory that night, and the room lit up to reveal hundreds of red roses. Lily had forgotten all about the flowers, and there they were, a ridiculous mockery of whatever they had been meant to represent at the beginning of the long and tiresome day. They sat on almost every surface of the dormitory, exactly as they had that morning, and yet so differently.

At first, the roses had seemed so romantic, then a little sad, then irritating, and now they were something kind of darkly ironic.

Lily stood surrounded by the flowers, too tired to react, with her cloak and scarf still in hand for several minutes, before the door opened behind her, admitting an equally exhausted Mary.

"Bloody hell, I forgot," murmured the brunette, throwing her own cloak over a chair as she attempted to navigate her way to the lavatory. "Oh, and, Lily, Luke's outside the Common Room looking for you."

This brought Lily back to reality at once. "Shit," she swore, "I completely forgot. Thanks, Mare..."

Mary nodded vaguely in reply, as Lily darted out the door, downstairs, and through the Common Room. Out in the corridor, Luke was pacing back and forth across a short stretch just before the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Ever-loving Agrippa, I'm sorry," said Lily, hastening towards her boyfriend. "I didn't mean to slink off like that, but Marlene was in the hospital wing, and you were out, and I didn't even think with..."

"Never mind it," Luke interrupted; he was very pale, and Lily doubted that he had heard a word of her excuse. "I need your help, Lily. I can't answer your questions, and I can't explain, but I need you to trust me and come with me. It's very important."

For the first time, Lily noticed the book bag slung over her boyfriend's shoulder. She noted the urgency in his brown eyes and the intensity of his voice.

"Luke, you have to give me something more than that."

The Ravenclaw nodded slowly. "All I can say is... is... it's a matter of life and death. Please, Lily."

In the years to come, Lily would never distinctly remember saying 'yes,' although she supposed that she must have agreed in some manner. She would also never remember the trip through the castle corridors, down the marble stairwell, across the Entrance Hall, and outside. She would never remember how Luke managed to convince Filch to let him take a last carriage down to the Village, or what was said throughout that ride.

She would, however, recall stepping out of the carriage and onto the high street, crowded with Valentine's Day couples, enduring the elements for a romantic evening. She would remember Luke's silence as she followed him to a highly familiar closed-down wooden building—the Harper's old shop—and how the bustle of the outside world evaporated as Luke closed the door behind them. She would remember how it was quiet in the house—quiet, but not quite silent.

Very aware of the exact location of her wand (in the pocket of her coat), Lily followed Luke up the stairs of the clearly abandoned house. Halfway up the stairway, Lily became conscious of the fact that the house was not utterly deserted—there was the sound of a crackling fire, and shortly, she could see a slight orange light reflecting off a wall.

Most of the second floor corridor was dark when the pair reached the landing; all of the doors were closed, but while most were pitch black, the crack on the floor of one revealed a strip of orange firelight. Lily looked to her boyfriend, her hand closing around the wand in her pocket.

"You don't need to be afraid," Luke murmured, as though he heard her thoughts. He led the way down the corridor towards the lit room. They reached the door, and Luke made for the knob, but he did not open it right away. "Trust me: you have nothing to fear," he reiterated. "I need your help. If you can't help me, I don't know what I'll do."

Slowly, Lily nodded.

Luke opened the door.

---

A/N: I bet many of you can guess what's on the other side of that door! Fairy dust to whoever reviews with their ideas!

Oh, how my heart broke for poor Adam! I could literally go on forever about the construction of this chapter, but I won't. I had a lot of influences here, including: David Addison (James channeled some serious Bruce Willis!), 50s music, my new hat, a very slight amount of tequila, Anya Marina's genius cover of "Whatever You Like," and a healthy dose of Christmas spirit.

There is a Chapter 16 "deleted scene" so to speak posted in my profile. It's nothing epic--just a little look at what Donna was doing during most of the chapter. Have a look if you like :D

Look forward to lots of Lily and Luke in Chapter 17.

Lastly, parts of three different Chapter 13 teasers are fulfilled in this chapter. Cookies to whoever knows which ones! :-)

Reviews are my new hat (Seriously: it is one sexy hat).

Love and Cookies,

Jewels