A/N: This chapter WOULD have been posted tomorrow, except that one of my friends picked today to declare his love for me via a—get this—facebook message, and I found the inspiration to finish while avoiding answering that. Which I now have to do. Damn it.

The three fulfilled teasers were guessed by ASmileADay and Will Write For Food and are as follows: Donna is in the process of making a bad decision repeatedly, Marlene broke up with the same boy for the second time, and Severus made one of at least two big mistakes. Not the juiciest, perhaps, but they shorten the list, don't they?

Disclaimer: Copyright Jo-Ro.

Recap: Luke Harper's brother, Logan, might be a death eater. Sirius finds out his uncle is dying and is pissed Alphard didn't tell him sooner. Snape attacks Marlene, because he was ordered to attack Lily but managed to "convince" (via magic) his co-pre-death-eater Hester that it was Lily under the Cruciatus, not Marlene. James suspects Snape of the attack, though the confunded Marlene disagrees. There's an article in the newspaper about three aurors who were killed in an altercation with death eaters. After Hogsmeade visit, Luke Harper goes to Lily and asks her to go with him into the village and not ask questions—it's a matter of life and death. She follows him to the Harpers' deserted shop.

This chapter is dedicated to every single lovely person who reviewed, especially Foggy Moon, who invoked the power of having reviewed every chapter (in like a 24 hour period), thereby compelling me to update as quickly as possible.

Chapter 17- The Harpers

Or

"Wake Up, Little Susie"

Lily had seen his face before. They had been in school together after all, though their gap of houses and several years prevented any real interaction. Also, Luke had pictures, and there had been one in the newspaper a few months back. He had a jaw like Luke's, but his eyes were darker—almost black. He had a roundish kind of nose, an unshaven face, and feathery brown hair. Lily had seen Logan Harper's face before, but it was somehow different now—although that might have been the blood and dirt.

Logan sat on the floor of the room, leaning against the sofa quite near the fire. His face was bloodied, but only slightly; there was far more blood on the white rag that the wizard held to his bare chest. He looked up at Lily when she and Luke entered the fire-lit room, but there was no fear in his eyes; rather, he eyed Lily distrustfully, as though he did not notice the rag he uselessly employed on the wound that continued to bleed.

"Who's this?" Logan asked, and though some of his features might have resembled his younger brother's, his voice was not one of them. It was rough and coarse, like Luke's had never been.

"She can help you," was Luke's vague reply. Lily turned to her boyfriend at these words.

"What's wrong with him, what is he doing here, and why do you need me?" she asked, very quickly and rather sharply.

"Can you trust her?" demanded Logan.

"Of course I can trust her," said Luke; he hesitated before starting on Lily's questions. "Lily—this... this is my brother Logan. He's... hurt. He's bleeding out... I think it's a cursed wound..."

"Of course it's a cursed wound," snapped Logan.

"Quiet," ordered Luke to Logan. Addressing Lily, he continued urgently: "I need you to make a potion to help him clot. You're a thousand times better at potions than I am, and..."

"Luke, he should go to St. Mungo's," interrupted Lily. Logan coughed.

"You know he can't do that," pleaded Luke.

"The Ministry said he wasn't under arrest. They just want him for questioning. He should go to St. Mungo's... it'll be much safer."

"I can't, Lily," said Luke. "He won't go, and if he doesn't stop bleeding, he's going to die." A look at the scowling but weakened Logan told Lily that this, at least, was true. Whatever was going to be done, it had to be done quickly. There was no time to think, to weigh options, or to gamble, and she couldn't just let him die.

"I don't have anything to work with," Lily muttered, running a hand through her hair. "I'd need instructions, and a cauldron, and a hot fire, and ingredients, and..."

"I have it all," said Luke quickly. He indicated to the book bag that Lily had noticed earlier; "I bought out half the apothecary, and there's a room you can use." He pointed towards the stair and was about to lead the way, when Lily stopped him.

"I'll need to look at the wound," she said.

"Oh. Of course."

Lily approached the injured wizard, who flinched as she knelt beside him on the wooden floor. "What's your name, anyway?" asked Logan, as Lily gently removed the rag.

"Lily," she replied distractedly. The wound was small—barely the length of her ring finger, and yet it bled profusely. "When did this start? How did you get it?"

Logan did not answer, so Luke spoke up: "He got it about... almost twenty four hours ago. It didn't start bleeding until this morning, though. He got it when..."

"Luke," censured the elder brother.

"She has to know, Logan," snapped Luke.

"No, she doesn't."

"Yes, I do," interjected Lily. When neither brother spoke, she added impatiently: "Can you at least tell me if it was a spell, or if you cut yourself on something, or...?"

"A hex," mumbled Logan.

"He found a spell that stopped the bleeding for most of the afternoon," Luke added. "But it started again about an hour ago, and nothing's worked since."

"Lily what?" Logan said, as Lily cleaned the rag with a simple spell.

"Hmm?"

"You said your name was 'Lily.' Lily what?"

She met his eye. "Evans."

"Evans? Who's your family?"

"No one you know."

"A mudblood?" asked Logan sharply.

"Logan!"

"I wouldn't be insulting my blood," Lily crisply replied, continuing her examination of the cut. Logan looked at Luke.

"Never mind it. I don't want her working on the potion. I don't trust her."

"Fine with me," snapped Lily. She got to her feet and started towards the door, but Luke impeded her path, looking pleadingly between his brother and his girlfriend.

"Logan, I can't trust anyone else, and if you won't let me take you to St. Mungo's, there's no other way."

"You could make the potion..." Logan began to say, but Luke cut him off.

"I'm rubbish at potions—always have been. I know you don't trust Lily, but you don't know her. She's brilliant in potions, and she wouldn't hurt anyone. Least of all someone that I care about." Here, he looked meaningfully at Lily. Logan continued to scowl, but made no more complaints. Lily sighed heavily.

"Give me the book, then."

Luke pulled a large volume from his bag, handing it to her and leading the way out of the room. He closed the door behind them and started for the downward staircase. "There's two potions in there for blood clotting; I'm not sure which..."

"You'll want the one by Havershamp," muttered Lily, as much to herself as to Luke. "The one by Warlock Bace is quicker to brew, but it's not as effective on curse wounds." She followed Luke down to the first floor, through what had once been the main shopping area, and into a back room. A fire was lit, and a table covered in dozens of potions ingredients was laid out. In addition, there was a chair near the fire and a cauldron. "I'll need another cauldron," she said.

"Why?"

"Two parts of the potion should be brewed separately and combined at the end," she explained. Luke hesitated. "Do you want me to do this or not?" the redhead pressed, and he nodded quickly.

"Right. I'll find one."

"Thank-you."

She opened the book and skimmed through the index. Locating the correct page, she scanned the ingredients list and walked over to the table. Luke observed her apprehensively, as she moved different ingredients to different areas of the table, muttering to herself and counting out portions on her fingers. After a few minutes, she finished, sighed, and turned to Luke.

"All the ingredients are here," she said. "I can do it. It should take about an hour. Your brother used a spell to slow the bleeding, so I don't think he'll bleed out in that time, but... make sure he doesn't move around much, yeah?" She grabbed hold of the table and pulled it a short way, closer to the cauldron and the fire.

"Right." Luke moved towards the door, but paused at the threshold. "Lily, I..."

"The cauldron," she interrupted coolly.

"Right... right." He left, and Lily sat down in the chair provided for her. She closed her eyes and ran one hand through her hair, breathing deeply several times. Then, opening her eyes, she set about her work.

It was a tedious potion to brew. The instructions included many details, not just concerning ingredients to be added, but the heat of the fire and the temperature of the room. As a result, Lily spent as much time using her wand to regulate the conditions as she did working directly on the potion.

That took longer than she expected too—the pine sap was slow in pouring, and the kneazle furs didn't change the liquid to the right shade of maroon, which meant she had to supplement it with a little powdered dragon claw. Lily took her time though; rushing was the biggest mistake someone could make in potion-brewing, and a flawed draught could just as easily kill Logan Harper as save him. So it was that nearly an hour and a half passed before Lily shifted the larger of her two cauldrons onto the fire, stirring it twice clockwise, and then moving out of the room.

Her legs and back were both a bit stiff from the awkward position she had taken for the last ninety minutes, and her eyes were sore from the poor lighting. She stretched and yawned as she moved out of her small room, through the main walkway, and into another side room, to which she knew Luke had exiled himself.

Lily knocked twice on the wooden doorframe. Luke was dozing in a chair, but the Ravenclaw stirred at the sound of her fist on the frame. His unfocused eyes opened, landing on Lily and causing him to straighten up.

"Lily..." He cleared his throat. "Is everything alright?"

Lily nodded and stepped into the room. "The potion's on the fire; it'll be another ten minutes."

"Oh. Okay."

The redhead sat down in a chair and looked at her boyfriend intently.

"How is he?" she asked, her tone much softer than it had been the last time they spoke. "Any developments?"

Luke shook his head. "He's lying down, now. I think he's in a lot of pain."

"When did you find him?" Lily wondered. "Or did he find you?"

"He found me," Luke explained. "It was right after you left... he got my attention out on the street—said he was going to the shop, and I should meet him there. He had a few other injuries... nothing major, and I was able to clean him up. That's what we did most of the afternoon. Then he started bleeding again, and it wouldn't stop. I remembered a potion that I thought might work, but I knew I'd never be able to brew it... I'm rubbish at potions. You were the only one I could think of that I could trust... who wouldn't run away screaming or try and turn him in."

"If he's innocent, he shouldn't have anything to worry about," murmured Lily resentfully.

"That's what I told him," Luke insisted. "But he doesn't see it that way, does he? He always believes everyone's out to get him. "

"Why did he come to you? Why not someone else in the family or one of... one of his friends." The implication of the last word was lost on Luke.

"He doesn't want to upset Mum. I can't say why he didn't go to his friends—he didn't even mean to come to me. He was going to crash in the shop for a few days, but when he saw all the Hogwarts students in the streets, he thought of me."

"And what are you going to do?" Lily asked.

"I dunno... He has to make a decision on his own. I can't force him to turn himself in, can I? He hasn't committed a crime—they only want him to testify or something. Once he's healed, he'll probably stick around for a few days, and then I'm not sure where he's off to. I doubt he will tell me." Lily sat quietly for some time, until Luke queried: "What are you thinking?"

She was thinking about The Daily Prophet that morning, about where Logan might have been wounded, all that James Potter had said to her in the Three Broomsticks, and three dead aurors whose murderers were missing. It was a lot to think about. "Did he tell you how he got those injuries?"

Luke hesitated, then shook his head. "He's family, Lily. He's my brother. I couldn't just leave him alone, could I?"

"No," agreed Lily. "Of course not."

"Listen, I really am quite grateful for everything you're doing," her boyfriend continued presently. "I knew you would help me, and I really can't thank you enough."

"Well, I couldn't... I couldn't just let him bleed to death..." (Even if he is a death eater...) Luke looked like he wanted to add something else, but Lily got to her feet again and said: "I'd better go check on the potion."

"I'll go with you," promised Luke, following her.

The thick, soupy liquid in the cauldron was just about the right shade of scarlet when Lily arrived. She stirred it once again and watched the potion steam. "It's ready," she said to Luke, taking a vial from the table and pouring a few ladles full of the potion inside.

"Perhaps," began Luke as she did so, "it might be better if I gave it to him." At Lily's unhappy expression, he hastily added: "I'm sorry, Lily, but he trusts me, and I need him to take this! It would be best if he didn't have any more reminders that it was..."

"Brewed by a mudblood," Lily finished angrily.

"Please, Lily, don't say things like that," begged Luke. "Let's... let's not talk about things like that, please? Let's not think about it! He's my brother. He's not perfect, but he's my brother, and you can't talk him out of these things. Just... just let me give him the potion. It'll go over smoother."

"Let's not think about it?" snapped the redhead, handing her companion the vial. "Luke, I don't even know where to begin with that."

"What are you talking about?"

She was fully prepared to fight him on this... shout at him and try to lift the persistent veil that seemed to shadow her boyfriend's eyes, and yet—in a moment of extraordinary self control—Lily merely exhaled heavily, closed her eyes, and placed her hands on her hips, forcefully calming herself. "Nothing," she breathed. "I'm not talking about anything. You'd better go give that to Logan. I'll be up in a minute... just going to clean up here."

"Thank you," Luke repeated at the door. Lily nodded shortly.

When she reached the room upstairs a few minutes later, Luke was still in the process of convincing Logan that the potion would help him. Lily stood on the threshold, arms crossed as she watched the little argument. Luke had been right about one thing—his brother's condition was certainly deteriorating. The older wizard was now frighteningly pale, and though he maintained his position on the floor, he slouched further still against the sofa, as though it took all the energy he had to even keep his head up.

"Logan, please," implored Luke. Logan's attention, however, had now turned to Lily; he eyed her with similar—if faltering—resilient dislike as before.

"I don't trust you," he said calmly: the family resemblance grew less and less apparent.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have let Luke brew it," replied Lily.

Logan snorted. "Fine." With that, he took the vial from Luke's hands, uncorked it, and tasted a drop. He flinched. "It's disgusting."

"I wasn't aware that made a difference," said Lily.

"I'll get some tea," Luke interjected anxiously, but as he started for the door, Logan called him back.

"Let her get it." He grinned challengingly at Lily, the vial still poised at his lips.

"Logan..."

"No, it's fine," Lily interrupted. "I'll do it. Where do I go?"

"The kitchen's next door." Luke pointed towards one of the walls, and Lily departed. When she returned, Logan had emptied the contents of the vial and moved to the sofa. His facial expression was one of suppressed pain.

"It's not working; I'm still bleeding," he snapped at Lily. She was levitating three cups of tea at wand point and merely rolled her eyes.

"Give it a minute or two more."

She was right; a few minutes passed, and the wound had ceased to bleed entirely. Shortly after that, it began to scab over, and some of the color returned to the wizard's face. Logan still looked exceptionally ill, though, and Luke advised his brother to sleep, to which the older Harper shook his head and insisted that he was fine. Lily levitated the tea cup to sit, midair, beside Logan. "You can drink it whenever you want. It shouldn't affect the potion... if anything, it'll help to have something in your system."

Logan begrudgingly took the tea that he himself had commissioned and sipped it. Luke took a seat by the fire and imitated the gesture, but Lily remained standing, drinking her own tea near the door. Logan drained his cup quickly, and then, to his brother's very great surprise, slumped against the couch cushion and fell asleep.

"Is that normal?" Luke asked of Lily in a whisper, for fear of waking the other.

"It's normal when you've just downed a cup of tea spiked with sleeping draught," said Lily quite calmly. Luke got to his feet.

"What did you do?" he snapped, crossing the room. "You drugged him?"

"There's no need to keep your voice quiet," Lily went on, in the same even tone. "He won't wake up."

"Lily," barked Luke. "Who do you think you are? You can't just... that's what the other cauldron was for, wasn't it? Circe¸ I had enough trouble getting him to trust you in the first place! What is he going to think now that you've..."

"As much as I'd love to listen to this," Lily interrupted, setting down her tea, "there isn't time. He'll be asleep for about fifteen minutes. If you feel too traitorous taking him to the Ministry, you should drop him at St. Mungo's. They'll make sure all his wounds are healed, and they'll know what to do with him from there."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that you have someone sleeping on that couch who is wanted by the Ministry of Magic, and you have to do what's best for everyone... including him. I've done the cold, heartless part with the sleeping potion and the lying... you can tell him I was the one who apparated him to St. Mungo's if it makes you feel better, but..."

"I'm not turning him in!" Luke practically shouted. She had never heard his voice that loud before, but Lily remained resolute.

"Luke, I know he's your brother, and I know you feel disloyal, but this is about right and wrong. If he was involved with..."

"He hasn't done anything wrong!"

They were both silent for a moment, before Lily quietly stated: "You're lying."

Luke stared. "What?"

"At first I thought you'd been deceived," the redhead continued, a little surprised at the sudden onslaught of revelation as it came to her. "But that's not it, is it? You're lying to me. You know exactly where he got those wounds as well as I do."

"You don't know what you're..."

"I do know what I'm talking about, Luke Harper. I'm not stupid, you know, even though I am only a lowly mudblood. He got those wounds twenty-four hours ago, you said. It must have been some mighty dangerous altercation he got himself into... I don't suppose it had anything to do with the three dead aurors in the paper... the ones killed by death eaters within the exact same time frame as your brother got injured. What a coincidence!"

"It's not true!" said Luke. He turned away from her and paced towards the fireplace. "And I'm not betraying my own brother to the Ministry!"

"Even if he's a murderer?"

"He's not a murderer! He didn't get those wounds in a fight with aurors... he's not a death eater! It was... it was just a... a stupid brawl with some idiots in a pub. It has nothing to do with..."

"You're lying!" Lily repeated disbelievingly. "Why are you lying to me? Luke! For Agrippa's sake, would you look at me?"

Luke turned to her again. "It was just a fight with some gits outside a pub."

Lily watched his face quietly for a few moments. Then, she brushed her hair out of her face and said: "Fine. Whatever. I'm going back to the castle; you can do as you please..."

"Wait."

She paused by the door. "What?"

"You can't go back to the castle," said Luke. "It's passed nine o'clock... the wards are up around the castle. No one can get in or out."

"Well, then I'll bang on the gates until they let me in."

"You'll get detention!"

"I think I'll survive."

"Lily, wait..."

She waited impatiently by the door, and he stepped closer. "I need you to stay," he said. "I just... I can't be alone with Logan. What if he starts to bleed again, or something else happens? I don't know if I'll be able the handle it—I need you."

"My friends will be worried, and Filch knows we took a carriage," Lily replied, though her resolution was slipping. "He'll know we haven't come back."

"No, he won't."

"What?"

"I—I confunded him. I'm sorry, Lily, but I wasn't sure how long it would take..." His voice was soft again, more Luke-ish, but the change that had come over him in the last few minutes had irreversibly changed him in Lily's mind. She had never thought her boyfriend stupid exactly, but perhaps she had never counted on his being so clever for anything but books. There must, she realized, have been more reason for his being in Ravenclaw then she had ever considered, but she wasn't sure she liked it. "Please, Flower, we can explain to your friends in the morning, but I—I need you now."

He reached out to take her hand; she drew it back and folded her arms. Without another word, she crossed the room to a wooden chair in the corner and sat down. Luke moved back towards the fire.

(Interlude)

"Oh. Hi. Alice."

The sound of her own name caused the witch to look up from the wall of books that flanked her in the Common Room. She was less than pleased to see who it was that summoned her from her feverish, late night studies.

"Hi, Frank," she replied, as awkwardly as the Head Boy had. He was just entering the Common Room from the direction of the dormitories, and he looked surprised to see his ex-girlfriend there.

It wasn't the first time the pair had been alone since the infamous break up all those months ago, but it was the first time that there seemed any chance that the encounter might have a duration of more than a few seconds. The fact that Frank had spoken at all showed that he wasn't about to just turn around and leave. Some kind of conversation might be expected. Alice dreaded the thought.

"What—er... what are you doing down here?" he asked, stepping slightly closer.

"Just homework," Alice replied softly. "Couldn't sleep."

"Oh. Yeah. Me either."

While Alice still wore the jeans and sweater she had donned for the Hogsmeade visit an eternal twelve hours before, Frank had his pajamas—plaid trousers and a grey t-shirt. Alice forcefully suppressed vague memories of conversations they'd had in years gone by while he wore that t-shirt, or the time she spilled pumpkin juice on those trousers, or the hours they had spent "studying" for O.W.L.s in their pajamas. Nostalgia would get her nowhere.

"Listen, Alice..." began Frank, and he moved closer still. "Can I—er—can I speak with you for a minute?"

No, indeed, nostalgia would get her nowhere.

"I don't think so," she replied, barely above a whisper.

"Oh." It surprised him. "Alright, then." Frank turned and climbed the staircase back to his dormitory, but not before quietly adding: "Good night, Alice."

To his brother's immense relief, Logan did not realize that his twenty minutes of deep sleep were unnaturally induced. On waking, the older brother started and looked about the room, to see Lily seated silently in the corner and Luke tending to the fire.

"Must've been more tired than I thought," Logan grunted; he drew a wand from the pocket of his robes and gripped it tight, straightening up on the sofa but not moving from it.

"You... you really should sleep," coaxed Luke (repeatedly, once every ten minutes or so), but Logan was resolved to stay vigilant. He did agree to some food, which Luke summoned from an unknown location. When the Ravenclaw offered some to Lily, however, she merely shook her head and summoned the potions book she had left downstairs. For some time, the witch sat in her corner, reading the book and not sparing Luke a second look, though he cast anxious eyes in her direction almost as often as he repeated his encouragement of sleep to Logan. In the end, it was to both Lily and Logan's relief when her boyfriend and his brother finally drifted off to sleep, about a quarter after midnight.

It was then that Logan finally removed himself from the sofa and walked unsteadily across the room to Lily, pulling his robes to cover what remained of his wound.

"You're his girlfriend, are you?" the wizard asked bitterly. Lily looked up from her book and nodded. It suddenly occurred to her that she was not all together safe there. Logan's wand, though relaxed at his side, was in hand, and her own was tucked in her boot. She did not let her fear show on her face, however—she kept her expression utterly neutral. "He mentioned there was a girl, last time we spoke," Logan went on. "He didn't say she was a mudblood... didn't mention it at all. 'Should've known, I expect... he always was rather daft when it came to the ways of the world." Lily wasn't sure what kind of response Logan was expecting, so she gave none. "Aren't you afraid of me?" he asked at length.

"No," lied Lily, but as she said it, her confidence increased.

"But don't you know what I am?" A sardonic smirk formed on his lips.

Lily nodded. "I suppose I'm too tired to be properly frightened. Anyway, I thought you old pureblooded families were all about honor."

"So?"

"So, I just saved your life."

Logan's smirk turned to a scowl. "But you're right," he said after a minute. "I'm not going to kill you... you did make the potion, and that's bought you something this time."

"How generous."

Good Godric, Lily, provoke him, why don't you? She really had no idea where this indifferent courage—or was it stupidity?—came from, but she couldn't help herself. Still, she must have been lucky or something, because Logan made no comment. Instead, he flicked his wand once and summoned a chair from across the room to them, seating himself there.

"I realize I'm not the first person to say this," remarked Lily dryly, "but you really ought to sleep." Logan merely grunted. Lily rolled her eyes and attempted to return to her book.

"How did it happen?" the wizard interrupted her suddenly; "Between you and my brother—how did it happen?"

"He asked me out, and I said 'yes.' We've been going since June."

"Hmph. Luke knows better than that. Idiot. Did he know you were a mudblood?"

"Yes." She ought to have been offended, of course, but the fact that her companion was quite possibly a murderer bothered her more than a derogatory name. "You see, I don't manipulate and use him."

"I am not manipulating him," snapped Logan. "He's my brother. He's a Harper. There's such thing as duty, you know. Honor."

"Your brother certainly knows," grumbled Lily. "Even if he's completely misconstrued what those things mean."

"What are you talking about?"

Lily fought a brief but tumultuous internal battle, and then answered him: "I drugged you. The tea. That's why you slept." Logan's eyes grew dark. "I wanted Luke to turn you in. He wouldn't do it."

"I should kill you, you know," muttered Logan.

"But you won't."

"No?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Now, Lily felt herself smirking. "Because you're not sure how deep your brother's feelings are for me."

Logan observed her for several seconds, and then laughed scornfully. "Don't cross me, girl. Charm and a pretty face don't account for bad blood."

"Good blood doesn't account for murder," retorted the other.

"I'm not a murderer," said Logan casually. "I've never killed a true wizard, except in self-defense."

"A true wizard? A pureblood, I suppose you mean."

Logan nodded. "And even they were traitors. Blood traitors—the very worst kind. No respect for magic... no love for what makes us the advanced species. They would pollute the magical world... refuse to advance as we are destined to do."

"What is it exactly that you hate about muggleborns?" Lily asked, more curiously than angrily. "Why do you feel so threatened by us?"

"You pose a threat to our very way of life," replied Logan, as though it were obvious. "You pose a threat to magic itself! You carry with you the possibility of producing muggles from magic blood... your magic is weaker than purebloods, which further threatens our world. Continued breeding with your kind will spell the end of magic within ten generations."

Lily had heard that line before—mostly from pureblood propaganda articles and books or else the occasional Slytherin. "There are about a hundred studies that have disproven that statistic," she argued. "Magic parents—even muggleborns—are much more likely to have magic children then squibs."

"Mudblood-loving propaganda," disregarded Logan.

"How do you know your information isn't purist-mania propaganda?"

The wizard glowered at her. "Careful, mudblood."

Both were quiet for several minutes, before Lily closed her book and asked: "What do you intend to do with Luke?"

Logan raised his eyebrows. "I could ask you the same question."

"I mean, what do you want with him?" Lily continued. "Why did you come to him? Are you going to let him alone, or are you going to try and convince him to... to join you?"

"I would hardly tell you that," was all Logan said. Lily set her jaw firmly.

"He won't do it," she said. "He won't."

Logan made no reply. Just then, a sudden grunting sound indicated Luke's awakening, and he jerked his head up from the sofa cushion it had rested on. Logan ceremoniously rose from his chair and started back towards the couch, just as Luke asked, suspiciously, what they were doing over there in the corner.

"Only talking, little brother," replied Logan smoothly. Lily felt ill.

She did not remember falling asleep, but just before sunrise, Lily opened her eyes and realized that she must have. She straightened up in her uncomfortable wooden chair and tried to recall what time she had given in to her exhaustion; she remembered checking her watch just after four thirty... it must have been around five, then...

Luke and Logan were awake, talking quietly by the dead fire. A window revealed a pale sky, and Lily's wristwatch told her it was exactly one minute past seven o'clock. Taking a moment to collect herself, to remind herself of the last night's confusing and strange events, Lily wiped the sleep from her eyes, straightened her skirt, and pulled back her disorderly hair into a loose bun. Only when she coughed, rather unsubtly, did the two Harper brothers notice that she no longer slept.

"Lily!" said Luke, as though he had not realized she was still with them. He cleared his throat and rose (Lily saw Logan roll his eyes), crossing the room. "You—er—you fell asleep. It's almost seven. I'll get you some breakfast, and you can go up to the..."

"It's past seven," Lily corrected. Her neck was stiff—her whole body ached from two hours slumber in that awful chair. "I'll get breakfast in the castle."

"Oh." Luke, too, was very pale, and there were dark circles under his brown eyes from the mostly sleepless night. "Alright. If that's what you want."

"Are you coming?" asked Lily coarsely. Luke glanced at his brother.

"I'll be along soon," he promised solemnly. The seventh year reached out and took her hand: his was warm, hers cold, and the gesture shocked Lily, perhaps more so because of the events of the last twelve hours, but also simply because Luke had never been very physical... never much of a hand-holder, unless Lily initiated. "Will you be able to get up to the castle on your own?"

"I'll manage somehow," she responded tersely.

"You'll want to get some sleep, I expect," Luke went on quietly, presumably so that Logan would not overhear. "But can I see you at lunch hour? I'd like to talk to you about... about last night." Lily nodded. She started for the door, but Luke followed her into the corridor. "Listen, Lily," he said, closing the door behind them, "I—that is... you won't... you won't talk about this, will you? Not with anyone?"

That was a subject on which Lily had not decided, and now she was far too exhausted to make any sort of decision. "I won't say anything before we talk," she told him noncommittally. Without another word, Lily made for the staircase, and Luke re-entered the room with his brother.

The sixth year had made it halfway downstairs when a thought struck her. She halted, and then drew her wand, pointing it at her shoes and waving it once. When she ascended the stair, her movements made no noise on the wooden floor. The redhead crept back towards the room and, feeling only a slight twinge of guilt, held her ear to the closed door of the room she had just exited. Logan's rough voice became audible first.

"...Complete rubbish, Luke, and you know it."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," dismissed Luke's annoyed voice. "She's my girlfriend—it has nothing to do with you. Mum and Dad don't seem to object..."

"Mum and Dad are doddering idiots," snapped Logan. "Well-meaning, perhaps, but uninformed."

"I told you, I don't want to talk about Lily," insisted the younger brother, and then they were both quiet for nearly a minute. Then, Logan's voice broke the silence.

"Have you thought about my offer?" he asked, surprisingly tentative.

"No," said Luke. "I haven't."

"You've got months still," Logan continued. "You don't need to decide anything now. But it's a good opportunity, and we'll need another wand."

Luke said nothing for some time; when he did speak, it was on a new topic entirely. "I think I'm going to make some tea—would you like anything?"

Lily didn't wait to hear Logan's response. She was sprinting down the corridor a second later, reaching the staircase before Luke even opened the door. The witch did not stop until she was out on the slushy street, and even then, she slowed only to a brisk walk. The cold morning air bit at her exposed skin, and she pulled her cloak a little tighter as she walked.

(Interlude II)

I'm starving.

It was the first conscious thought that Severus Snape registered on waking Sunday morning. His black eyes opened to the Slytherin sixth year boys' dormitory—Mulciber, Avery, and Piper still slept, but Hester was nowhere to be seen.

Hester.

In a moment, it all came back to him—attacking Marlene Price, the sloppy cover-up, the high commendation Hester had given him when relating the tale to Mulciber and Avery, and then Severus's decision to skip supper and remain in the dormitory... well, that explained why he was so damned hungry. But where was Hester?

He was at breakfast, as Snape learned several minutes later. The latter had dressed and washed by then, and he was about to head for the Great Hall himself when Hester entered the dormitory. He smirked when he spotted Snape, and gestured for him to follow out of the dormitory. Snape did so, still apprehensive.

"Well, you did it," Hester told him, once they were out on the stair. "Dumbledore made an announcement at breakfast. It seems the Ministry is sending some git to lecture tonight—mandatory attendance of course—and they'll be jabbering about dangers of dark magic or something other, but the point is..." And the amused smirk on Hester's face changed into a devious grin, "You're in the clear."

"I don't see why you say that."

"No one knows it was you," said Hester. "I know you were thinking someone might, but this—this shows that old fool Dumbledore knows all about the attack, and he hasn't come to kick you out, has he? Anyway, no one has any idea what's going on. I heard at rumor that it was that Price girl that got attacked." He laughed here; Snape didn't even try for a weak smile.

"I expect you'll be writing Lucius Malfoy, then," he said simply.

"I've already done it."

Snape didn't let the confusion at his own narrow escape or relief over the same show on his face. Instead, he nodded shortly to Hester and said: "Then we have nothing else to say here," before slipping past him down the staircase.

"Where have you been?" asked almost the last voice in the world that Lily wanted to hear just then. James Potter's accusatory tone caught her off guard, and she opened the eyes she had unconsciously closed to see the wizard himself approaching her across the Entrance Hall. The cavernous doors closed behind her, and Lily searched her weary, sleep-deprived brain for a good excuse.

Unfortunately, all she came up with was: "I went for a walk."

"Where to? Brazil?"

This also caught Lily off guard. "What?"

"You've been gone all morning, and you weren't on the school grounds," said James, and he sounded angry.

"Yes, I..." she began to lie, but stopped when James withdrew a folded bit of parchment from his pocket. Lily raised her eyebrows defiantly.

"The map," James clarified, though all Lily could see was blank parchment. She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"Yes. Brazil. I was in Brazil. Is that all, or was there a reason you were stalking me?"

"You stayed in Hogsmeade last night, didn't you?" James demanded. "Don't you have any idea how dangerous that is these days? And after what happened to Marlene! You can't just..."

"Really, Potter?" she spoke over him, though he continued to rant. "You're lecturing me about safety? When was the last night that you didn't sneak out after curfew?"

The Quidditch Captain ignored this. "...And that idiot boyfriend of yours might be more responsible, too, considering..."

"Luke? What has Luke got to do with this?"

James rolled his eyes. "Should I pull out the map again and explain how it works, Snaps?"

"Why," snapped Lily, poking him in the chest, "are you spying on me and my boyfriend?"

"Why," countered James, "are you and your boyfriend being complete idiots? Agrippa! If you're going to make a night of it, you could at least do it inside the castle! Or is Her Highness too good for a broom closet?"

Lily laughed disbelievingly. "First of all, yes, I am too good for a broom closet! Ew! Second of all, her highness is going up to bed now, if you'll excuse me..."

She tried to sidestep him, but James moved to impede her path. "No, you know what I find really interesting?" he coolly continued; "the fact that you had no moral qualms about leaving the castle to shag your boyfriend, only hours after one of your supposed best friends landed in the hospital wing!"

Lily looked around quickly to make sure no one was listening, but it was not even eight o'clock yet, and most students slept in Sunday mornings. They were the only ones about in the Entrance Hall. "Good bloody God, Potter, everything you say is less and less your business! Now move!"

"No!" He once again blocked her path, and Lily could not help herself. She whipped out her wand and jabbed it against his throat.

"Move!"

"Oh, really?" mocked the wizard. "You're going to hex me? Why do I have trouble believing that?"

"GAH!" Lily flicked her wand: "Silencio!"

James Potter found himself uncharacteristically—albeit magically—speechless, which distracted him long enough for Lily to slip around him. She had reached the marble staircase and was several steps up before he had restored his voice and managed to catch up, hopping in front of her and causing her to cry out in irritation.

"I need to speak with you," said James. "I wasn't stalking you—I actually have to talk to you about something, and I was looking for you, and I didn't see you on the map, and then I thought maybe Harper would know where you were, and I looked around, and I didn't see him either. That's how I knew. I don't just spend my mornings staring at a dot labeled 'Lily Evans' you know."

Lily breathed heavily. "Fine. What is it you need to speak with me about so desperately?"

"It's about Marlene."

"Is she alright?"

"Yeah, she's just been released from the Infirmary."

"Well...?"

"I think I know who attacked her," James went on, and there was a tremor in his voice that—shockingly—suggested apprehension. "I had the map. It was about an hour after she was attacked before I got to look, but... I have a good guess."

"Then why don't you tell McGonagall or Dumbledore?" asked Lily.

"Well..." (James frowned) "I don't exactly have proof. I'm not even completely certain that I'm right, though I don't see how anyone else could have... well, it doesn't seem likely that anyone else could or would have, and..."

"Who is it?" Lily interrupted.

The moment of truth: "Snape."

The interest slid from Lily's face immediately; her eyebrows practically disappeared into her disheveled red hair, as she pinched her lips together very tight. "Of course," she said presently. "Of bloody course. Because—who was I kidding? Who else would you ever suspect of doing anything wrong in this stupid castle, besides Severus Snape?!" She pushed past James on the stair and hurried upward, but he followed.

"Would you just listen to me, Evans? I'm serious—I'm not making it up! He was in his dormitory with..."

Lily continued as though he weren't speaking: "A Hufflepuff fourth year has a cold? Must be Snape's fault! Mrs. Norris is losing her hair? I bet Snape did it! Slughorn assigned loads of homework? Guess whose fault that is! Oi, it's raining outside; I bet..."

"...I didn't see any other upperclassmen around the school at all—except Frank, and even you wouldn't be thick enough to think..."

"...Everything with you—Snape, Snape, Snape! And the worst part is, he's the bloody same way! Potter, Potter, Potter! Always Potter! I can't so much as mention the word 'Quidditch,' without hearing something about bloody James Potter! And on top of that..."

"...And why wasn't he in the village with everyone else? Why would he be in the castle at all? And..."

"...Because God forbid, anybody or anything else in the world be at fault for any of the ills of the universe..."

"...He's a Slytherin. He has a history of hexing muggleborns. He'd be smart enough to attack from behind, so that..."

"...I swear, it's like the two of you are bloody in love or something! If that's the case, for God sake, please put us all out of our misery and find a sodding broom cupboard already!"

They reached the top of the staircase, fuming. "You didn't listen to anything I said, did you?" demanded James.

"I heard everything you said," Lily countered. "And you do realize that your evidence for suspecting Snape is the fact that he was 'in the castle' within an hour of the attack, right? Think about that: he was in the place where he spends eighty percent of his time year round. Brilliant theory, Potter—really, truly inspiring."

She once again pushed past, hurrying down the corridor. James pursued. "You're biased," he accused.

"So are you!"

"But I have evidence."

"No, you have an idea. An idea is not evidence. I have an idea that maybe you temporarily went insane, attacked Marlene, and then hit your head on something and forgot all about it." James opened his mouth to protest. "You see... just because you can imagine a scenario within the vast realm of possibility, assemble the words in to a semi-coherent sentence, and shout it loud enough, does not mean you have evidence."

"Well then what was he doing in the castle?"

"What were you doing in the castle?"

"I was getting my cloak."

"Maybe he was getting a cloak! Maybe he had a headache and was taking a nap! Maybe he didn't feel like going out in the cold! Anyway, what possible motive does Severus have for attacking Marlene?"

James rolled his eyes.

"Oh," Lily realized; "I meant besides the fact that he apparently runs about the castle doing varied nefarious deeds for kicks."

"You think you're joking."

Lily halted, her hands on her hips. "Listen, Potter, if you're so convinced Sev did this, why don't you go to McGonagall or Dumbledore? Why are you bothering me with this?"

James scowled. "What's the point in telling you? You'll just assume that Severus is the saint, and I'm delusional."

"Severus is no saint, but you certainly are delusional. Now get on with it, or else leave me alone, please."

"Someone's in a bitchy mood," observed the other.

"Well I didn't get a lot of sleep last night," Lily retorted, and only after the words had left her mouth did it occur to her how that sounded. For whatever reason, James looked furious, and though she usually took a secret sort of pleasure out of getting on his nerves as he got on hers, Lily also found that she had the strangest urge to set the record straight. "Listen, it's not what you think," she said, brushing her hair out of her face. "It's... it's complicated. But I didn't... I mean, I didn't sneak out of the castle to meet with my boyfriend. Honest."

"What do I care?" replied James icily. But his features were a little softer now. "Okay, the reason I wanted to talk to you about Snape was because I was wondering if you'd noticed him... acting differently."

She had. He'd been distant and sullen all week... all of last week, too, but Sev always had been rather moody, and so "differently" was really a subjective thing. "I dunno. Not really... a little grouchy maybe, but not really. Why? What would that prove?"

"He didn't hex me," said James. Lily arched her eyebrows, and he explained: "it was a few weeks ago... Snape and I got in sort of a run in..."

"By which you mean you attacked him."

James did not correct her. "Believe what you want, but... he had a chance to curse me, and he didn't take it. He looked... weird. Different. I can't explain it, but something was going on with him."

"James," began Lily, speaking slowly, as though her companion were a slow-witted six-year-old, "am I correct in thinking that you think Snape attacked Marlene because he didn't attack you?"

"I'm just saying maybe his weird behavior correlates somehow with Marlene."

Lily frowned. "Yes, Potter, you are definitely delusional." She started to leave.

"Can you just talk with him, at least?" James called after her. Lily paused.

"How exactly do you imagine that conversation would go? 'Say, Sev, you didn't happen to attack Marlene Price—one of my best mates in the world—did you?'"

"Just ask him why he was in the castle," said the wizard. "If you know him as well as you think, you'll be able to tell if he's lying. Right?" He retreated towards the marble staircase again, and Lily sighed.

"Oh, thank Merlin, you're not dead!"

Mary enveloped Lily in a surprisingly overpowering hug (considering the brunette weighed about ninety-five pounds), which the prefect returned with a pat on the shoulder and an attempt to extricate herself. "No, not dead yet," Lily agreed. "Almost, but not quite."

"Where have you been?" demanded Donna, with her hands on her hips and her amber eyes flaring. "You didn't come back to the dorm... weren't here this morning... didn't go to breakfast! And after what happened with Marlene... you could've been lying in a corner of the school somewhere with your arms cut off, and we wouldn't have the slightest notion!"

"Oh, Donna, you care," cooed Lily, sitting down on her bed.

"I do not! It's just that it might have been courteous of you to let us know..."

"She was looking all over for you," chimed in Mary happily.

"She threatened a second year," agreed Shelley Mumps, who was also in the dormitory at the moment. "Well, now that you're located, Lily, I'm headed down to the Great Hall. Cheerio." She flashed them a crooked-toothed smile and skipped out of the dorm, while Lily turned to her two friends.

"How's Marlene? Is she out of the Hospital Wing?"

"Mmm, she had to meet Dumbledore," said Mary. "We didn't tell her you were missing, because she had enough to bother her, we supposed, but goodness, Ginger, where were you?"

"Well..." began Lily unsteadily, "I was... with Luke."

"Oh-my-God-you-had-sex!" gasped Mary all in one breath.

"No wonder you look sort of green," said Donna.

"We didn't have sex," Lily corrected calmly. "Truthfully, we didn't."

"Why the hell not?" Mary asked. "I know if I'd been dating a bloke as good-looking as Harper for as long as you have, I'd have jumped him ages ago."

"If you'd been dating a bloke half as good-looking as Harper for thirty seconds, you'd have jumped him," Donna interjected.

Mary merely smiled. "Careful, there, Pot, the kettle doesn't like to be called 'black,'" she chirped, and the two exchanged a look that Lily did not understand but was far too tired to question.

"Well," began Donna, forcefully looking away from Mary, "If you weren't doing the deed with Harper, where were you, and what were you doing?"

"Was it slutty?" asked Mary.

"Not in the slightest," replied Lily. "It was... I mean, I can't really talk about it. Luke asked me not to talk about it, and I agreed. There was a bit of a... a crisis—an emotional crisis, I suppose—and Luke needed my help."

"It sounds slutty."

Donna scowled. "Only you, Macdonald, could hear something as mundane as 'emotional crisis' and interpret it as something slutty."

"It wasn't the 'emotional crisis' part," corrected Mary, smirking. "It was the 'Luke needed my help' part, sweetie."

"Alright," interrupted Lily. "That's quite enough of that. I am alive. I'm sorry I didn't tell you were I was off to, but I'm extremely tired and would like to get a few hours lie in before luncheon, so if you could bring the volume down..."

"We have apparition lessons in a few minutes, Ginger," Mary pointed out. "Do you want me to tell them you're ill?"

"Would you mind?" asked Lily, and Mary nodded. She flitted out, but Donna remained, turning to her friend, who was in the process of deciding whether or not she wanted to change out of her clothes. "Are you sure everything's all right, Evans?"

Lily nodded. "I'm fine, Donna," she answered. "Really—I just need sleep."

"Alright. If you need anything..."

"I'll find Alice," Lily finished, smiling.

"I knew there was a reason we were mates."

Donna left, and Lily lay down on her bed. She needed a shower, and though the thought of hot water sounded like heaven to her just now, the prefect was not quite up to all that movement. Instead, Lily kicked off her boots, grabbed a throw-blanket, and pulled it over her. Clearing her head of Luke Harper and everything else, Lily closed her eyes, and the cat's gentle purring was the last sound she heard before she fell asleep.

(Interlude III)

"Er... hi," said Adam uncertainly. "All done with Dumbledore? What did he say?"

Marlene shrugged, leaning against the doorway of the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, her hands behind her back and her expression neutral.

"You don't know?" pressed the other, who sat near the window, with a forgotten magazine in hand. "Weren't you there?"

"I dunno," sighed Marlene; "Dumbledore asked me about everything that happened yesterday, then he said he had to write my mum, even though I asked him not to, and then he asked how I felt about the whole business, and I said not too keenly, but he didn't have to worry about me jumping off the Astronomy Tower... no offense."

"None taken."

"Then James Potter came in, and Dumbledore gave him ten points, and we were sent on our way." She shrugged again. "Nothing very interesting. What are you doing?"

"Reading," said Adam, gesturing vaguely to the magazine. "Have you had breakfast? Or lunch? I suppose it's almost lunchtime now."

Marlene shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

"Do you want to talk?"

"Not really. I have a better idea."

"O-kay..." (Like he wasn't sure where this was going.)

It became clear why Marlene had held her hands behind her back until now; she pulled them around to reveal a brown paper back. Adam arched an inquiring eyebrow, and Marlene smiled. She crossed the room and withdrew from the bag two glass bottles.

"What's this?" he asked, as Marlene handed him one.

"Coca-Cola," she told him; Adam eyed the dark liquid suspiciously. "Who knew James Potter was so resourceful?"

"Which explains what he was so secretively gathering from his trunk half an hour ago," said Adam slowly. "Alright—what else is in the bag?"

Marlene's smile grew broader. She pulled out the large square jacket of a record and handed it to him. The heading—written in spindly scarlet letters—bore the words "The Fresh Bloods," and a few, creepy looking goblin-like creatures hopped around the animated cover.

"You found my record," he said, taking it and grinning.

"You thought I forgot, didn't you?" challenged the blonde.

"Well, it's not like you didn't have anything else to think about."

"I didn't forget. You asked me to bring it up, and I said I would. 'Couldn't just break a promise, could I? Budge over." She sat down next to him on the window seat. "I guess I dropped it when... you know... I was attacked, and then someone must have picked it up and brought it to the lost-and-found in Filch's office, because I tried to summon it, but… well, long story short, I may or may not have flirted with our school's beyond creepy caretaker to get this for you, so you had better enjoy it."

Adam laughed. "Oh, Merlin, that is a visual that I never wanted to have. Here, hold this..." She took the cola. Adam crossed the room and put the record on; the first notes sounded, and he returned to the window seat. "Thank-you... for finding it."

Marlene returned the coca-cola and tapped it with her own bottle. "Cheers, McKinnon."

"Cheers."

It was a few minutes after twelve noon when Lily woke. Her muscles felt stiffer than before, and she was suddenly very conscious of how desperately she needed to wash and brush her teeth. The rose-colored shirt she had first donned twenty-eight hours prior was itchy, and the clasp of her skirt was probably leaving a mark on her abdomen. She needed to shower, change, rinse and repeat. Now.

Unfortunately, there was no time for all of that. Luke had promised to meet her for lunch, and that could mean anytime in the next hour or so. Lily had slept soundly, but her dreams had been troublesome, and she wanted to hold that desperately needed conversation with Luke sooner rather than later. So, instead of a luxurious hot shower followed by sweats and a cup of hot tea with her battered edition of Idylls of the King, Lily splashed her face with cold water, brushed her teeth, and hastily found some jeans and a lumpy red sweater to wear.

She didn't realize how famished she was until she reached the Great Hall and the enticing smells that emanated from it wafted towards her. It was just after twelve twenty by then—usually the height of the luncheon rush hour—but the only one of her good mates at Gryffindor table at the moment was Mary. Luke Harper was nowhere to be seen, so Lily sat beside Mary, careful to keep an eye on both Ravenclaw table and the entrance.

Still, time pressed on, and while Lily ate about six servings of everything (earning an inquiry from Mary: "Are you sure you didn't have sex last night?"), Luke had still not appeared by one o'clock.

"Are you staying?" asked Mary, getting up from the table.

Lily nodded dismally. "I'll see you back in the Common Room. Do you still need help with the Potions homework?"

"Oh, always."

"I'll be around a little later in the afternoon, then."

"Perfect. Later, love."

At one-thirty, the Great Hall was all but deserted, and still Luke had not shown up. Lily had even asked his Ravenclaw friends if they had seen him, but no one had. They all promised to send him in the direction of the library if they should see Luke, and Lily headed there herself, but not before collecting Mary and some Potions books from Gryffindor Tower. An hour of homework later, Luke had not made an appearance, and Lily's frustration mounted.

Mary departed, but Lily hung around in the library, borrowing a newspaper from a Hufflepuff friend of hers and scanning the pages for any story regarding Logan Harper. A muggleborn Ministry official had disappeared, but Lily's boyfriend's brother had not made The Prophet that day. This annoyed her even more: it had occurred to her over the last twelve hours how little she really knew about Luke's family, and she found herself craving information on the Harpers.

Then, a thought occurred to her. Most pureblood families knew a fair bit about each other, didn't they? Hadn't James Potter mentioned having met Mr. and Mrs. Harper? Various well-known surnames like Bones or Potter or Prewett popped up in conversations with Donna, on the rare occasion Miss Shacklebolt mentioned her deceased parents' old friends, too. Wasn't it possible her friend knew a thing or two about the Harper line? Lily set off at once to find her.

Unfortunately, Donna was nowhere to be found. Lily had searched all of her friend's usual haunts to no avail, so that she was quite ready to give up, when she spotted Sirius Black sitting alone near the frosty lake. He had a cigarette in hand and was scribbling on paper; Lily was inspired. She walked briskly towards him, haulting several paces away.

"Hi, Sirius."

He looked up from his project—the crossword, Lily now saw—and was evidently surprised by her presence and greeting. "Hey, Evans." His tone lacked the typical Sirius Black cheer. Still, he didn't seem totally adverse to conversation, as he pressed: "You turned up, then. How are you?"

"I've been better," Lily confessed. "Do you mind if I join you for a bit?"

"Alright," replied Sirius. "But you'll have to join me in other respects too..." (He indicated to the cigarette in hand), "I don't like to smoke with people who aren't."

Lily folded her arms. "Really, Black?"

"Mhm."

"Fine." She sat down on another root of the large, leafless tree that shaded them both, and accepted the cigarette that the Marauder handed her. He lit it with his wand, and she inhaled once.

"That's not your first cigarette," Sirius observed casually.

"What makes you say that?"

"You didn't cough. Everyone coughs on their first smoke."

Lily was relieved to see something of a smirk on her companion's lips; he just didn't look right without one. "I had a phase," she answered vaguely.

"A phase? Oi, I'm liking you more already. When was it?"

"What? The phase? A few summers ago." Lily laughed at the memory. "Yes, I was rebellious for all of a month, and then I found it didn't suit me well at all."

"Any tattoos?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Ah. I'm not tempting your resolve with that cigarette, am I?"

"I was never addicted," Lily pointed out reasonably. "It was only a month." Sirius returned to his crossword, but the prefect did not feel slighted. "Aren't you cold sitting out here like this?"

He shrugged. "I've had a few."

Lily wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but she rather thought not, and something about his demeanor worried her. "Is everything all right, Sirius?"

"With me? Oh, yeah, never better." Lily didn't believe him. "Was there something you wanted to speak with me about, or could you just not stay away?"

"There was something, actually," said the redhead, remembering her purpose. "I wanted to ask you if you knew anything about the Harpers."

"The Harpers? Your Harpers?"

"Right. Luke Harper's family."

"Oh..." Sirius considered it for a minute. "Well, I reckon I know a bit. Most pureblood families know something about the others... I dunno—who do you want to know about?"

"Just... whatever you can tell me." She took another drag.

Sirius shrugged. "They're not all that matey with my dear family, if that tells you anything. Mr. and Mrs. Harper are fairly boring types... he's tall, she's short, and they've both gotten fat. Politically, they're pretty apathetic, I suppose. They're the sort of family that opts out of picking sides in the blood battle by saying they're 'loyal to their family,' I think. That worked for a while, but lately, the purists have started interpreting that as a cop out, you know? Like if a family were really loyal 'pureblood-ists,' they ought to come out and say it."

"So you wouldn't say the Harpers are as... extreme as... your family?" Lily hoped that didn't sound insensitive, but Sirius merely shrugged again.

"I guess not. It's difficult to say—with most families, there are branches that are extreme and branches that are moderate and branches that are 'muggle-loving fanatics...'" He grinned a bit here. "The Blacks are one of the few exceptions, I should add—there are a few non-crazies in my tourjous pur bloodline, but nothing so substantial as to be called a 'branch.' Then again, the Harpers don't go as far back as families like the Blacks or the Potters or the Malfoys. They're not much more than a century old, I don't think. But like I said, it's tricky to generalize about most families. Now, you take that Logan Harper bloke... he may or may not be a death eater, depending on how The Daily Prophet is feeling today... though, I expect you know all about that."

"Mmm," was Lily's imprecise answer.

"Why do you want to know, anyway?" inquired Sirius, exhaling upward. "Considering joining the family, are you?"

"Hmph. Not quite."

"Good."

Lily arched her eyebrows. "Good?"

"Sure. What do you even see in that bloke? Harper. He seems a bit... wooden to me."

"Sirius," censured the witch teasingly, "are you coming on to me?"

He grinned. "Vicariously, maybe."

"I don't think you know what that word means, Sirius." She shook her head, and Sirius's grin broadened—it seemed more sincere now, too, and that encouraged Lily.

"What are you doing out here all alone anyway?" she asked.

"The crossword," he replied, as though it were obvious. "The crossword and the obits are the only parts of the Prophet worth reading these days."

"That's not true," defended Lily. "Do you read Dorthea Grey's column? She's got some fantastic commentary on..." She broke off. "You were teasing me, weren't you?"

"Oh, never."

"Where are the others?" pressed the redhead, to which Sirius shrugged. "It's weird seeing you without them... like seeing a severed arm. If that's insulting, I'm sorry."

"Insulting, but depressingly accurate."

"Why aren't you with them, then?"

But Sirius didn't answer. He simply returned this his puzzle. Lily sighed; she was about to tell him that she would leave him to his own devices, when the Marauder unexpectedly spoke up. "You're dad's dead, right?"

"Um... yeah." Sirius continued scratching letters into the little boxes of his crossword, and did not press the issue, so Lily, tapping her cigarette to rid it of ash, prompted: "Was there a reason you asked?"

"I dunno..." He had stopped writing and was now forcefully keeping his eyes trained on the paper. "It must be odd, though, right? Having someone like that die? I mean—did you know it was going to happen for a long time before?"

"Not really," said Lily softly. She didn't talk about this a lot. The last time she'd discussed it at all had been with James, all those months ago. It was funny—he'd been smoking at the time, too. It occurred to Lily that she hadn't noticed James with his cigarettes in some time... "I mean, they found out he was sick while I was here. The doctors—those are like muggle healers, y'know—they said he had like... six months or something, but Mum didn't tell me that. That was... terrible." She remembered finding out everything—the look on her sister's face, like it was her, Lily's, fault that she hadn't known how little time they had left. "But I came home at Christmas, and it was pretty clear that Dad was deteriorating quicker than expected; Mum told me how little time we were supposed to have. I only had a few weeks with him before... well, I mean—he died the first week of January."

"See, I don't understand that," Sirius burst angrily. "Why wouldn't they tell you? Did they think it'd be better if just—bam, all of a sudden they drop dead?"

Lily watched him carefully, and he briefly met her eye. They exchanged a look that communicated everything: Lily knew that Sirius knew about his uncle, and Sirius knew that Lily... well, that Lily wasn't talking about her dad anymore. "I think," she began, "they didn't want me carrying it around, the fact that he was dying. They wanted to tell me... they wanted to give me enough time to grieve before it happened, but they... they didn't want me to be so burdened... especially when there was nothing I could do about it."

Sirius was quiet for a long time, staring at his paper in what Lily thought was faux concentration, until he spoke up: "Trip, stretch, and jelly—six letters."

It took a moment for her to realize he was talking about the crossword puzzle. Lily thought about it. "Jinxes. Jelly-leg, tripping, and stretching jinxes." She got to her feet. "I should go, but thanks for the info on the Harpers."

"No problem." He hesitated. "And... thanks for the crossword answer."

"Right. No problem."

By four o'clock, Lily was more worried than annoyed. There must have been a reason for Luke to be this late... his best friend in Ravenclaw insisted that he hadn't seen Luke all day (but carelessly attributed it to mismatched paths) and renewed the promise to send him towards the library should he spot the missing wizard. So, Lily returned to the library and tried to work on her homework (there really was a lot of it) for about half an hour, before Severus Snape showed up.

"Sev!" Lily beckoned, earning her a glare from the librarian, Ms. Sevoy. Still, she had achieved the goal of catching her Slytherin friend's attention, and he walked over to the table at which she sat.

"Working on that Dark Arts essay?" he asked.

Lily shook her head. "Faking it. I can't concentrate. Sit with me?"

Snape looked around the library, but only a few bookish Ravenclaws were spending their Sunday afternoon there, and he took a seat. Lily noticed but did not comment; she did, however, remember James Potter's request to her that morning.

"Did you hear about that lecture tonight?" she asked in what she hoped was a casual voice. "Some Ministry type is coming around to talk about the pitfalls of dark magic."

"Yeah, I heard," replied Snape noncommittally, before sarcastically adding: "Should be a good time."

Lily smirked. "We could always ditch and go up to that grouchy portrait of the hag on the fourth floor like we used to. Remember? We'd throw Knuts at her until she'd get so angry she'd threaten to curse our families."

Something like a smile flitted across Snape's thin lips. "Yeah, I remember."

"Unless you'd rather go to the lecture," Lily teased. "I dunno. Could be educational. Y'might learn something."

"Mhm."

Alright, he had to be doing this on purpose. Snape was rarely verbose, but he almost never resisted conversation like this. Unless...

Lily looked around the library, but no, there were definitely no Slytherins about. She frowned and sighed heavily, while Snape's eyes remained on the page of some book. "So what did you do in Hogsmeade yesterday?" she asked, tugging on the sleeve of her jumper. "Anything interesting?"

Snape shrugged. "Not really. I bought a new book and came back early to read it."

Lily could have hugged him. She wasn't sure when it started, but she realized now that she had begun to give credence to some of Potter's suspicions, and the presentation of a logical alternate explanation—delivered with no affectation or falseness—relieved her more than she cared to admit.

She didn't go after him, into the village, though she resolved to do it a dozen times. Twice, she was halfway down to the Entrance Hall before she stopped and turned back.

Lily ate supper at a quarter to six, and Luke Harper remained absent. She chewed her lip, watched the Ravenclaw table, tapped her foot, annoyed her friends with her inability to sit still, and all the while, no Luke. But she didn't go after him into the village, because for whatever reason, Lily didn't think—no, she didn't feel—that he was really in danger.

Intellectually, she understood that he might be, but she honestly did not believe that he was. There was a reason he hadn't returned to the castle, and she didn't know what it was, but she didn't like it.

"Lily..."

Donna brought her out of her unhappy reverie.

"Are you coming?"

The redhead nodded and followed her friend into the Great Hall, from which the tables had been cleared to be replaced by dozens of pews split into two aisles, which were about half filled with other students. It looked like a church.

Lily's wristwatch declared the time to be 6:52, and the witch or wizard from the Ministry—the one who was supposed to give the perfunctory lecture discouraging the use of dark magic or whatever—would be starting in a few minutes. Students filed in, irritable at the prospect of spending their dwindling weekend hours in a mandatory lecture. Lily had firsthand experience with that: not only was this the last place she wanted to be just now, but McGonagall had called on her—as a prefect—to make sure the Gryffindors in the Common Room and dormitories made it downstairs. Remus, her partner prefect, ought to have been there to aid, but he was home visiting his mum again. The other three Marauders, Lily noted, were also absent, but she didn't feel obliged to scour the castle for them; they would show up if they wanted to, and if not, it was hardly her duty to babysit them.

And so, Lily slid into her pew with Mary and Donna, leaving just enough room for one or two more people to sit between her and the end of the row. She leaned back, folded her arms, and waited for the thing to begin.

At length, a plump, bow-legged wizard stepped up to the front of the hall, where the staff table usually sat but had been replaced by a simple podium. He was just tapping his wand to his throat—undoubtedly to magnify his voice—when the unoccupied seat to Lily's right suddenly became occupied.

By Luke.

"Where the hell have you been?" Lily asked, just as the wizard up front began to speak.

"I am so pleased to be here to talk to you all this evening..."

"The village," murmured Luke, so that only Lily could hear. He kept his eyes on the speaker, however, and that frustrated the witch even more.

"Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," said Luke.

"I thought he might have started bleeding again or..."

"No, he's fine."

Lily waited for more of an explanation, but when none came, she pressed: "Why didn't you come back? You were the one who said to meet at lunch hour. It would have been nice to know you were alright..."

"I'm sorry, Lily," interrupted the wizard sharply. "I wanted to spend more time with... him. We spent the afternoon talking, that's all."

Lily's temper was incensed now. "Why didn't you send an owl?"

"We... I... I got caught up in things. I'm sorry." He spoke more softly this time, but Lily was not so easily deterred. She watched his profile carefully, trying to read it.

"You know I understand you wanting to talk with him," she began. "But it was hours. It's not like you to forget to write." Luke said nothing. Lily turned her eyes back on the speaker.

"...Curses should only be used in a defensive situation, and never outside the classroom context here at Hogwarts..."

"We are going to have a full conversation about this," Lily continued presently, still facing forward. "The fact that I know the location of a fugitive—of whose guilt I'm fairly convinced—doesn't play well with my conscience."

Luke shook his head. "You don't."

"What?" Lily turned back to him, but he still stared forward.

"You don't know the location of a fugitive. He left about an hour ago."

"I thought he was staying for a couple of days."

Luke merely shrugged. Then, suddenly, it was all very clear to Lily.

"He never planned on staying for a couple of days, did he?" she asked, a little louder. Luke sent her a "Please be quiet!" sort of look, and though she did speak a decibel or two lower, there was fury in her tone: "He planned on leaving the whole time. That's why you had me stay overnight... that's why you asked me not to say anything until you got back... because you weren't going to come back until he was gone! Isn't that right?"

"Lily," began Luke shakily, "You have to understand—I did trust you. I did. But it wasn't my safety at risk. I'd trust my life to you, but..."

"But not your brother's," she interrupted, unable to look at Luke any longer. "You tricked me, and you manipulated me."

"I didn't manipulate you," defended the other. "And as for 'tricked,' what would you call that stunt you pulled with the sleeping potion?" But Lily was ignoring him now. "Lily, there were some things we had to talk about... my dad, he's sick, and Lo—my brother and I hadn't even had a chance to..."

"I don't care," snapped Lily. "I would have listened to all of this last night, and I would've kept the secret until we had a chance to talk about it, if you asked me to. But you lied to me. You lied to me. The thing I've always admired about you is that there wasn't any... deceit. You were straight-forward and sincere and sweet and genuine..."

"I'm the same person," pleaded Luke. "I'm telling you everything now, aren't I? Lily, I love you, and I would never do anything to hurt you. I wanted to spare you the conscience battle. I wanted to protect you."

"No, you didn't."

"If you do see someone cursing another student, it is very important that you speak with someone about it..."

"You didn't think about my safety at all," Lily went on in a furious whisper. "If you'd cared about my conscience or my safety, you wouldn't have asked me to do the thing that you asked me to do, and you wouldn't have fallen asleep¸ leaving your muggleborn girlfriend alone in a room with your death eater brother!" Here, she turned to meet his brown eyes, which were wide with surprise and horror, as though he had just realized that any of this really effected Lily at all.

"Flower, I'm... I didn't mean to... I can't..."

"I can take care of myself, Luke," she replied coldly. "I don't need you to protect me. But it would be nice if you made an effort."

Luke was silent.

"Roughly half of Azkaban's inmates have the use of an 'Unforgivable Curse' on their records..."

"I do love you, Lily," he whispered at last, reaching out and touching her upper arm—the only part immediately available, as her arms were crossed with determination. She didn't look at him. Never, since he had first said those three words to her in September, had Lily doubted—even questioned, or wondered about—the sincerity with which Luke spoke them... Now she did.

And never had she felt less tempted to say them back.

(Exeunt)

Marlene stood in the back. She hadn't planned on coming at all, but there was nothing else to do in the deserted Common Room, and so she slipped in when the portly wizard sent to speak to the students of Hogwarts had already begun what was surely an enlightening talk, though Marlene only half listened.

Even still, she was not the last person to enter. Alice Griffiths stole through the slightly ajar doors of the Great Hall a few minutes after Marlene made her own subtle entrance; the older witch at once joined Marlene along the wall.

"Did I miss anything?" whispered the seventh year sardonically.

"Just got here myself. I think he's talking about how much we all don't want to go to Azkaban. Apparently it's not the ideal vacation spot we all thought it was."

"Well there go my summer plans," replied Alice, and Marlene stifled a snicker.

"I was debating whether or not to ditch," the younger witch continued quietly. "What's your excuse for being late?"

"Homework," Alice sighed. "It's the damn N.E.W.T.s. I'm sure to fail every one of them, and I still can't concentrate. It's taking me an eternity to finish a single assignment... and all the reading! It's maddening."

"Well it's good to know that I have that to look forward to," grumbled Marlene.

Alice nodded, and both witches were quiet for some time.

"If you're wondering if a spell is appropriate to use, think—does it hurt someone else? Do I endanger anyone else? Do I endanger myself?"

"So Frank tried to talk to me last night," Alice murmured presently.

"Really? What happened?"

"I told him I didn't want to talk." The seventh year shrugged. "Which was kind of true, I guess. I don't know."

"You don't know? Why not?"

Alice considered the question. "I'm not sure if I miss him exactly, or if I miss the idea of him. It all seems so petty, though, you know, and I don't want more drama in my life. I want to focus on school and getting into the auror program and things that matter."

"Boys matter," said Marlene. "They don't matter as much as some people believe, but they matter more than other people think, too."

"Boys, yes," Alice muttered. "Frank, no." She paused. "Do you think I should speak with him if he tries it again?"

Marlene merely shrugged. "I dunno—what's the worst that could happen?"

Alice smiled weakly. "I guess you're right. I think I'm going to sit down—you coming?"

"I don't think so," said the other. "I'm still considering skipping out early."

"Books with dark magic themes should be used for research purposes only. Writing, not wand-waving..."

Marlene watched as Alice slipped into a seat a few rows up, and as she did, the sixth year spotted a head of uncombed black hair that caught her attention. The wizard sat in the second to last pew, and was one of only a handful to occupy the row, so that there was a lot of free space to both his right and left. Marlene at once stepped forward and took a seat between the wizard and the end of the aisle.

Severus Snape looked up in surprise. Still, he said nothing, and quickly turned his gaze back towards the Ministry wizard.

"I know it was you," said Marlene. She felt Snape stiffen beside her. "You wiped your face from my memory," she continued in an undertone, "but I recognized your voice."

Finally: "Then what are we doing here, exactly?" He spoke quite calmly.

"I'm not going to tell Dumbledore or the staff," Marlene went on, eyes still fixed forward. "But I wanted you to know that... that I know."

Snape looked at her. "Why aren't you going to tell?"

Marlene raised her eyebrows, as though the answer were thoroughly apparent. "Don't you remember what you said to me?" She thought, by the flicker of recognition in Snape's black eyes, that he did.

"Lily!"

Marlene heard her friend's name called out in the quiet corridor and instinctively wheeled around.

At first, she thought she had been punched in the stomach, and without ever being conscious of a fall, she found herself on the ground. In an instant, nearly all sentient thought was blocked, however, by the pain that pulsed through every nerve of her body. There was a pounding in her ears and everything seemed so loud, but she wasn't sure if she screamed, or if her voice still worked at all. She choked just for air.

Her eyes were slits, but she saw two wizards approaching her—one with his wand arm outstretched, and the other cackling like a maniac. It was Severus Snape, and that friend of his—Hester or something. Snape was the one with the wand.

It went on. Pain, pain, pain, burning her blood and pressing against her bones, until they were surely about to shatter, and... and then it stopped. For a few seconds, her entire body ached, and she was just beginning to remember what it felt like to not experience that burning ache, when she heard a hiss of "Crucio!" and it started all over again.

She knew she didn't scream this time—the wind was knocked out of her... she gagged and writhed and Oh, God let it stop. Anything to let it stop.

Then, once more, the pain retreated, slower this time and less noticeably, but she was prepared, and—with stinging tears—Marlene gasped: "Why are you doing this?"

The Hester boy laughed. "We've made poor Evans cry!"

Marlene could barely register that Hester had addressed her as the wrong person. Snape, meanwhile, stepped closer, bent down, and muttered: "It's for her, you know." Then, he jabbed his wand against her temple, and it started again.

Marlene gingerly touched her forehead. She could still feel an invisible mark where his wand had stabbed—how the pain had flooded her body from that point, how she had wanted to reach out and grab him... push him away, anything, but was completely helpless to control her limbs, her voice...

She stopped. Snape was watching her, doubtless at a similar place in his mind (if on the opposite end), but he seemed to be waiting for some kind of explanation.

"You said you did it for her," Marlene whispered. "That boy with you—Hester... right? He called me 'Evans.' You called to 'Lily,' when you first..." She didn't finish the thought, for fear it might bring another onslaught of unsolicited recollection. "He thought I was Lily... I don't know how or why, and I don't care, but... that's it, isn't it?" Snape neither confirmed nor denied, so she figured that she had pretty much guessed it. "It doesn't make sense for you and Lily to be friends," Marlene went on shakily; "I reckon your mates in Slytherin aren't keen on it, her being muggleborn and a Gryffindor and all that. I reckon they might want you to prove your loyalties."

"None of that explains why you're not telling," Snape pointed out coldly. Clearly, he did not enjoy his handicap.

"Because..." and now there was an edge to her voice, "if it got out that you attacked me, it would get out to your people that Lily hadn't been attacked. I think, for once, we want the same thing. You want to protect Lily, and I don't want anything to happen to her either. But she's not safe as your mate, is she? So here it is—as long as nothing happens to Lily, nothing happens to you. I never remember who attacked me, and everything quiets down. But you—and your friends—will stay away. Got it?"

Again, something flashed in Snape's eyes, like he just realized what this was. Blackmail. "What's to stop me to making sure you don't tell? Wiping your memory, or..."

"You don't know who else I've told," said Marlene. "I haven't told McGonagall or Dumbledore, but that doesn't mean I haven't told another student. Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. Maybe I've kept this entirely to myself, or maybe I've told someone to keep an eye on things, should I start having memory gaps, or changing my mind about who attacked me." She set her jaw firmly. "This shouldn't be too difficult for you—it's something we both want."

"Unforgivable Curses in particular lead to self-destructive, unproductive lifestyles..."

Slowly, Snape nodded. "Nothing happens to Lily," he agreed.

"Good." She got up and moved to the seat beside Alice.

"So, as young witches and wizards today," the wizard droned on, "you have to ask yourselves, 'Is this really the decision you want to make?'"

A/N: No cliffhanger here... no more planned for a little while... hopefully I'll get my act together and get you all an update real soon, though! What did you all think? I sort of loved Lily going all bitch on everyone in this chapter (well... for her, anyway)... thoughts?

Shout out to thatchesirecat, anonymous (oh, no, the one thing I am not guilty of is short chapters), and untitled1494, the lovely anonymous reviewers!

Fairy dust and magic beans to those who made guesses as to what was on the other side of the door! Abarraine, JulieAV, Off Dreaming, beautifulandmysterious, Meda Plaster Caster, and Akt5us guessed correctly, while my favorite guess came from Meda Plaster Caster: "...Bizarre death eater experiments involving genetics?" Oh, if only... (Sorry if I missed anyone!)

Chapter 18 is called "March," with the musical title of my favorite Rolling Stones song. It's kind of a Frank-and-Alice chapter, but includes lots of Sirius angst and the return of an OC we haven't seen for a while (unless I change my mind and push that back). More magic beans to anyone who ventures a guess who that might be.

Reviews are cute, straight boys who smell nice.

Cheers,

Jewels