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.

22. Out

A/N: BAM! 43 pages on MS Word, less than two weeks between updates, AND that's not even taking into account how much of my leisure time was taken up by season finales (Lost, 24, Fringe, oh my!)!

Disclaimer: Copyright Jo-Ro

Before: James has seventy-four detentions, and if he gets one more, he could be expelled. Resident Slytherin jerk Nicolai Mulciber attacks Mary Macdonald with an Imperius, vaguely reminiscent of Snape's covered-up Cruciatus attack on Marlene earlier in the year. Frank and Alice are in love, and Adam tells his just-a-friend girl Marlene that he loves her, but she... well, more on that later. Donna's hooking up with this Ravenclaw named Charlie, who has a girlfriend named Cassidy, and Donna's guilt plus general anger issues lead to her belittle the death of Lily's father, which Lily is not happy about. They de-friend. Sirius is pissed at Snape for possibly corrupting Regulus, and Snape just hates the Marauders, so Sirius tells Snape how to get into the Whomping Willow to see Wolf!Remus at the full moon. Snape goes down, James finds out, James saves Snape, but Snape sees Remus, and no one is happy with Sirius. He dreams about drowning. Lily asks James to use the Marauders' Map so she can follow her ex-boyfriend, Luke, to Hogsmeade, because Luke went to chase after his death eater brother, who is about to be ambushed by aurors (including the ubiquitous Lathe). Lily stops Luke, but she learns that he aided and abetted his fugitive brother, which could be problematic. While she sneaks back to the castle, Lily encounters the Werewolf-Snape-Whomping Willow-James-as-a-stag fiasco, and no one's happy about that either.

Chapter 22- "Out"

Or

"Eclipse"

Lily did not remember walking up to her dormitory. She didn't remember whether she was careful to avoid Filch, if she encountered anyone on the way up, or if there was anyone in the Common Room. She just sort of blacked out, and suddenly found herself entering the sixth year girls' dormitory and realizing she still had the Marauders' Map in her pocket.

I have to give James his map, she thought, and it was literally the only thing that registered in her brain.

She was so bloody tired. She needed a shower—her hair was damp from the rain and from her own sweat, and her clothes were possibly the least comfortable things in the world, but, Agrippa, she was exhausted, and she didn't even feel like brushing her teeth.

I have to give James his map.

Maybe it was a defense mechanism, but she was physically incapable of thinking about anything else as she peeled off her robes and threw them over a chair. She couldn't think about Luke. She couldn't think about Severus. She couldn't think about anything. Just—I have to give James his map, over and over like a broken record.

Lily slouched towards her bed, vaguely aware that she could hear Mary's snores—that the curtains around Donna's, Shelley's, Carlotta's, and Marlene's beds were closed, indicating that they were probably asleep and that she was, therefore, for all intents and purposes alone, but mostly just I have to give James his map.

She was in shock—she was conscious of that, too.

She pulled open the curtains of her bed, and, for a moment, thought that she must have been so tired that she had picked the wrong bed, because someone was lying in it already. But a glance about to gain her bearings told her that it was, indeed, her bed, and Lily took a closer look.

"Marlene?" she whispered.

Marlene was awake, stretched out in Lily's bed above the covers, but clutching a pillow over her nightgown-clad body. It was another few seconds before Lily realized that Marlene was crying. Then, something clicked in her brain. With a mighty, figurative push, Lily displaced her exhaustion and confusion and shock, and she climbed into bed beside her friend.

"Marlene, honey, what's wrong?" she whispered.

Marlene sniffed, wiping tears from her red eyes. "I-I w-w-was waiting for you," she croaked un-importantly. "I-I just..." Then she dissolved again. Lily placed an arm around the blonde's shoulders, pulling her close, both of them half lying, half sitting on the bed.

"Mar, it's okay. Everything's okay. What happened?"

Nearly a minute passed before Marlene was composed enough to speak. "A-Adam," she stammered. "He—he said he loved me."

Lily's grip tightened. "What did you say?" she breathed, but the answer was obvious. Marlene looked up and met her eye, and Lily nodded. "It's okay," she whispered again. "It'll be okay."

Marlene turned her head and began to cry onto Lily's (by this time thoroughly disgusting) sweater, and neither moved nor said much until Marlene drifted to sleep and then—much later—Lily followed.

---

The Headmaster's office was never completely silent. Besides the quiet snores coming from the portraits of headmasters past, there was always the whirring sound from Professor Dumbledore's various trinkets, and if Fawkes—Dumbledore's phoenix—happened to be present, he usually made some kind of noise. The office was never completely silent, but as James and Sirius stood in front of Dumbledore's desk, it was certainly the closest thing to quiet that James had ever experienced.

The Headmaster observed them both carefully for an eternal minute; Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn stood off to the side. James had said his piece, and Sirius had kept quiet, and now everyone seemed to be waiting for something that no one wanted to arrive.

"Very well," said Dumbledore at last. He leaned over his desk, mirth utterly absent from his blue eyes, still fixed upon James or Sirius or both. "Professor McGonagall, Professor Slughorn," the older wizard addressed the teachers presently. "Please take Mr. Potter outside for a moment. I would like a word with Mr. Black."

Sirius went pale as James was escorted from the office. The two heads of houses said nothing, but led the way down the staircase and into the corridor. They continued the silence while they waited.

James wasn't sure how he felt just then. He was afraid—Sirius would be expelled for certain. It was inevitable, and James knew he didn't want that, but at the same time, he didn't know why. He was furious, too. Anger brought his blood to a boil, and he hadn't been able to so much as look at Sirius—didn't want to, ever again. He was hurt and betrayed; he was worried for Remus, worried what Snape would do or say when Madam Pomfrey finished with him. He was a regular cocktail of horrible emotions, none of them strong enough to defeat the others, and so they battled in the pit of his stomach while he waited for Dumbledore to call him back into the office.

This occurred several minutes later, when Sirius appeared on the stair and, barely meeting James's eye, muttered: "He wants to talk to you." Sirius then waited with McGonagall and Slughorn, while James returned to the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore was still seated at his desk. He looked somber and tired, James noticed for the first time.

"Hello, James," he greeted quietly.

"Professor."

Dumbledore sighed. "I think you realize the seriousness of the situation. Madam Pomfrey says that Mr. Snape will make a full recovery..." James might have been relieved (for Remus's sake), if he hadn't already known it. "But there will have to be repercussions."

"I understand," said James. Here came another big part—would he be expelled? Of course, he had saved Snape, but he'd also been out of the castle after hours... and on a night that he was coming to realize was anything but sedate. There were aurors buzzing about... something had happened in the village (he still didn't know what, exactly), and there was a general note of panic in the castle. Also, he had known Remus's secret, and though the portion of the story wherein James made an appearance as an illegal Animagus had been conveniently skipped, there were certain implications in the whole thing... that he knew the way to the Shrieking Shack, for instance... had been there before even. And, to top it all off, there was the looming threat of detention... one was all it would take for James's record to reach the threatening number seventy-five.

"James, what do you think Mr. Black's intentions were?" asked Dumbledore quietly, taking James completely by surprise.

"I don't know," he admitted, not sure if this constituted protecting Sirius or not. "He—he doesn't think, a lot of the time. But I couldn't say whether he meant to..." murder Snape. "I just can't say, Professor."

Dumbledore nodded. Fawkes the phoenix rustled his feathers. "How did you discover the path to the Shrieking Shack?"

He wondered if this was a test—if Sirius had told one story, and now he, James, was being asked to corroborate. But he had no way of knowing what Sirius had potentially said, and so he stuck to the truth (or something plausibly close to it). "We figured it out in second year. We—Peter, Sirius, and I—noticed all of Remus's absences coincided with the full moon, and we…"

"Followed him?" substituted Dumbledore.

James nodded. That resembled the truth, anyway, and was close enough for their purposes.

Dumbledore nodded, too. "And... before this evening, have you ever seen Mr. Lupin in his other form before?"

Hesitation again, and then—"Yes."

"Often?"

"No."

"And Mr. Black and Mr. Pettigrew?"

"Sirius has, yes." He wasn't about to drag Peter into this if he could help it. Dumbledore seemed to understand that. His eyes lingered on James for some time, and then he shifted in his seat and glanced down at the top of his desk.

"James, what you did tonight was very brave."

Whatever James was expecting, it wasn't that.

"You confronted a werewolf to save someone with whom your relationship is... less than cordial. You brought him to the Hospital Wing for treatment, though you knew it would lead to your friend's punishment. In short, you acted in Mr. Snape's best interests despite great personal risk." He looked at the young wizard, evidently expecting a response.

"Oh," was all James could say.

"And so, in light of this, I have decided to award Gryffindor fifty points."

Not expecting it at all.

"What?" asked James, before he could help himself.

"I assure you," said Dumbledore, "given the points your house has just lost, the number is not so very great."

Points just lost... but that meant...

"So—Sirius isn't expelled?" asked James, stunned.

The Headmaster did not reply immediately. "His case will stand further review, after I have spoken more comprehensively with Mr. Snape. But for now, he is not expelled, no."

James had no success figuring out whether he felt relieved or angry, so he did not try too hard. "What about Remus?" he asked.

"Mr. Lupin is not responsible for his actions tonight," said Dumbledore. "I do not think it would be fair for him to suffer because of them. Unfortunately, politics are not always fair..." James's eyes grew wide, and he opened his mouth to protest, "which is why," the other went on, "I will wait until I have spoken to Mr. Snape before any decision is made regarding Mr. Lupin as well." James did not understand, but there was finality in Dumbledore's tone that told him the conversation was over. "You ought to get to bed now."

"Yes, Professor." He turned to go, but paused at the door. "Professor... I know you probably can't tell me, but—what did Sirius say?"

Dumbledore sighed again. "Very little, actually. He primarily insisted that you had no knowledge of his actions."

"...Oh."

"Goodnight, Mr. Potter."

"Goodnight, Professor."

Sirius was still in the corridor with Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn when James arrived. At first, he thought his fellow Marauder was waiting for him, but then Sirius began to follow McGonagall back into Dumbledore's office, and James realized that the Headmaster must have asked him to stay.

"Wait, Professor," said James urgently, and both teachers looked at him. "Couldn't I stay? Just—I need to know that Remus is going to be..."

"No, Potter," said McGonagall, who was paler and sterner than usual. "You must go to bed now."

But it was too unfair. Sirius would find out before him... Sirius who hadn't given a damn enough to...

"Please, Professor, I won't be able to sleep anyway, and..."

"You have classes in the morning, Potter," said Slughorn. "You must go to bed."

"Professor McGonagall," James pleaded, but she shook her head resolutely. Then, for the briefest of moments, her expression softened.

"I will tell you the details tomorrow morning," she promised. "Now you must return to your dormitory."

Unsatisfied but defeated in the knowledge that this was the best he would get, James nodded. He turned and walked sullenly back towards Gryffindor Common Room.

The portrait of the Fat Lady was on the same floor but in another wing of the castle, and James did not make quick work of the trip. For a long time, he was alone in the hallways, except for the sleeping portraits and shining suits of armor, but when he neared the corridor of the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, James was joined by another. Lathe.

The auror was traveling in the opposite direction, and he held one hand over his arm, which was bleeding.

"Are you alright?" asked James as Lathe approached. The auror nodded.

"Nothing too bad," he muttered. "Flooed to the wrong room, damn it all. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I've been to see Dumbledore," replied James apathetically. Then he remembered what Lily had told him. "Did you catch him? Did you catch Logan Harper?"

Lathe exhaled heavily. There was dirt on his face, and the auror looked weary. He shook his head. "Not exactly," said Lathe grimly. "He's dead."

(The Morning)

Surprisingly, it was Peter Pettigrew who filled in many blank spaces for Lily.

She woke up very early, and had changed and showered before anyone else (even early-riser Carlotta) had emerged. Marlene was still in Lily's bed when the redhead slipped out of the dormitory with no clear intention of direction. She descended into the Common Room a few minutes before six-thirty, and it was empty, so she sat purposelessly on a sofa for a little while, until Peter Pettigrew appeared on the stair from the boys' dormitories, looking as tired and anxious as Lily felt.

"Oh—good morning, Lily," greeted the Marauder awkwardly. He started for the portrait hole, evidently attempting to make a quick escape, but Lily followed.

He put up a good fight when it came to evasion, and even when confronted with a relentless Lily, it was only after she had told him everything she already knew or inferred of the night before that he caved at all.

"Sirius told Snape how to get to Remus," sighed Peter, as she followed him through the seventh floor corridor. "James isn't happy—honestly, I don't know anything else."

"Is anyone getting expelled?" pressed Lily, but Peter only repeated his own ignorance on the subject. "Where are you going?" she asked, when she realized she had no idea of her own destination.

"I have to go get the cloak. James left it in the tunnel."

"And you can get it easily," Lily realized. "Because of your... y'know... ability."

"Right."

"Where's Remus now?"

"I dunno. Hospital Wing, probably, or on his way there with Healer—er—Madam Pomfrey."

"Is James okay? His shoulder, is it...?"

"He'll be alright. He's had much worse."

Lily nodded. "You do this every month, don't you?" she asked, but it was more of a statement. "You go with Remus as animals, because he can't hurt you that way. Is that right?"

Peter nodded mutely, and Lily struggled to understand it all.

"But why would Sirius tell Snape?"

The Marauder paused, and they came to the staircase. "Lily," was all he said, but it conveyed a dozen things—things like, she already knew the answer to that question, and please don't ask him anything else, and really, he had to hurry. She nodded briskly.

"Thank-you, Peter."

And with a last, cheerless smile, Peter descended the staircase, and Lily returned to the Common Room.

---

All mornings should be this glorious. Stretching and yawning, Alice felt her face smiling in the sunlight that poured in through the window of the Head Boy's dormitory. All mornings should be this glorious, she thought again, warm underneath the covers and in the sun as she rolled over onto her side.

Frank stirred beside her, and Alice smiled.

He yawned, stretching out his arms and turning his head towards the beaming girl beside him. "Good morning," he mumbled throatily, pulling her closer. She rested her head upon his chest, reaching up and running her hands through his hair.

"Good morning," she breathed. "Let's never move, okay?"

"From this spot?"

"Mhm."

Frank groaned. "What time is it?"

"Doesn't matter—we're never moving."

"Never ever?"

"Never ever."

"Mmm-kay." Nonetheless, the Head Boy craned to see the alarm clock on his dressing table, before dropping his head back down on the pillows. "We have time," he announced sleepily.

"All the time in the world?"

"No—about fifteen minutes, though." Alice was still for a moment, and then looked up at Frank, smirking. "I thought you never wanted to move," he reminded her, matching her expression.

"I could make an exception."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes."

"Well, alright."

Alice propped herself up on her hands and kissed him slowly and softly on the mouth. He pulled her on top of him, causing her to laugh against his lips as she murmured: "You know, I think I still love you."

"Is that a fact?"

"Mhm."

"Then I suppose we're both doomed."

"Love me, too?" chirped Alice.

Frank nodded matter-of-factly. "Always."

---

Sleep did strange things to the brain, Donna reflected. For instance, this morning, she lay in her bed, half asleep, and as her eyes fluttered open, she could swear that the curtains of her four-poster were blue, rather than red. But of course, that didn't make sense. The curtains were red—they were always red; it was only her sleepy brain that was making them blue.

She stared upward for a while, waiting for the curtains to return to their normal scarlet color. Still, they remained stuck in that shade of dark, royal, Ravenclaw blue.

...

Shit.

Donna sat up and looked over at Charlie Plex, who lay beside her. Awake.

"You idiot," she barked, kicking him. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You looked so peaceful," mocked Charlie, and Donna kicked him again. She fumbled about for her wand and cast a muffliato charm on the enclosed bed.

"How, exactly, am I supposed to get to classes without anyone seeing me at the busiest time of the day?" she demanded.

"Oh, who cares?" droned Charlie, bored. Donna rolled her eyes.

"Your girlfriend might. And anyway, I do."

Charlie merely shrugged. "I don't suppose you know a good Disillusionment Charm?" He started to open the curtains, but Donna grabbed his arm.

"How could you let this happen?"

"You were the one that fell asleep."

"You were the one that let me stay all night!"

"Nonetheless, I want breakfast, so either figure something out, or deal with the fact that people will find out you spent the night." With that, he slipped out of the bed, though he kept the curtains closed behind him. Donna exhaled angrily and lay back down, running her hands through her curly hair in frustration.

(Unrequited Love Level One)

Lily fully intended on talking to James, Sirius, Remus, Sev, and Luke (in no particular order) first thing in the morning, but her life had other plans. As soon as she finished a hastily consumed breakfast, Marlene—pale and sleep-deprived—appeared, and Lily found herself with other obligations.

"Okay, hon," soothed the redhead, as Marlene violently mutilated her scrambled eggs. "Can you just explain what happened?"

Marlene sighed. Due to the early hour, they were some of the few Gryffindors at the table, and she felt no great need for confidentiality. "So, last night," began the witch miserably, "I went down to the Quidditch pitch because Reg Cattermole said Adam would be there, and we were supposed to study Transfiguration together."

"The Quidditch pitch?" asked Lily. "What time was it?"

"Um—I don't know... seven or eight maybe? I don't know. Why?"

"Oh. Nothing. Never mind. Go on..."

"So I went down to the Quidditch pitch, and Adam was just sitting there, and he said he had something on his mind." She took a dismal sip of pumpkin juice. "So I asked him what was wrong, and..." Staring dully at her breakfast, "he just said it. He just said that he was... you know..."

"In love with you."

Marlene flinched. "Right."

"And what did you say?"

The blonde did not respond right away, instead taking a bite of her eggs.

"Marlene, what did you say?" Lily pressed. "You have to tell me—it must've been pretty bad if it's got you this upset."

"Oh, Lily," groaned Marlene, laying her head on Lily's shoulder. "I said the worst possible thing."

"Which is...?"

"Good morning!" sang Mary, arriving. "You lot are up early. I slept fantastically. Such a beautiful morning. Did it rain last night? Isn't May divine? I'm famished. Sleeping potions are wonderful." She sat down across from them and surveyed the scene. "So—what did I miss?"

Lily glanced at Marlene, who nodded. "Adam told Mar he's in love with her," said the redhead. Mary nearly shrieked and began to clap excitedly.

"Oh, yay! I love new couples! And can I just say that I knew you two would be perf..." Then she noticed Marlene's expression. "Wait—Adam told Mar he's in love with her? Why does she look like someone stole her kidney?" Comprehension dawned on the brunette and her jaw dropped. "You rejected him!?" she accused. "Marlene Price, are you insane?"

Marlene buried her face in her arms on the table, and Lily scowled. "That's not helping, Mary."

"Now is not the time for sympathy!" protested the other. "Now is the time for blame and guilt! Blame and guilt!"

"Maybe you could not shout?" grumbled Marlene's muffled voice.

"You rejected Adam?" Mary demanded in a harsh whisper. "Why in Merlin's name would you do something like that? Why? He's clearly in love with you, and more importantly, you're..."

"Mary, stop," insisted Marlene, sitting up. "Really, please, I don't want to hear that right now."

Mary observed her friend carefully and then sighed. "Fine." Leaning across the table, Mary patted Marlene's hand and smiled somewhat encouragingly. "Don't look so sad, Price. It'll be alright. I know it seems like the end of the world now, but eventually..."

"He's never going to forgive me," interrupted Marlene despondently.

"What makes you say that?" Lily asked.

"Because... because I was horrible."

"What did you do?" Mary pressed. "What did you say?"

"The worst possible thing," Marlene reiterated. The other two waited for elaboration. "Okay, imagine that your best friend..."

"Excuse me..."

"Fine, Mary, imagine your best bloke friend tells you he fancies you, and you're sitting there, scared out of your wits, and you respond... really, really awkwardly—what's the worst, most hurtful thing you could do?"

Lily and Mary were quiet for a minute, reflecting. Then, almost at the same time, the realization dawned on them. Lily groaned, and Mary looked stunned. "Mar, you didn't..." Marlene dropped her head on the table once more. "Marlene..." Lily began again, "just to be clear, you—you blamed him, didn't you?"

"Yes!" mumbled Marlene, but it sounded more like "Y-eh-uh-es."

"But... but Marlene, how could you? That's—that's Unrequited Love Level One material!"

"She's right," Mary agreed, horrified. "No matter how creepy the bloke is, or how much it isn't your fault, if he's professing his love, it's your sad task as the girl to be gracious, and at least act like maybe he had a shot with you."

"We're talking about Marlene, Mary," Lily reminded her.

"I am talking about Marlene! How could you blame poor Adam? How could y—what exactly did you say, Marlene? How bad was it?"

Marlene emerged, pouting. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," she insisted. "I don't want to think about it. I just want to..."

"Obliviate yourself?" suggested Mary. "Bury yourself in a coffin filled with ice cream, maybe? Yes, we know... but dear, you can't just leave us like this!"

"Mary, really," Marlene continued, "I can't talk about it just now." With that, she rose and walked quickly from the hall. Lily sighed.

"I'll go make sure she's okay," said the redhead, resigned, but as she got up from the table, Mary jumped up too.

"I'll go with you," she volunteered.

"But you haven't had your breakfast yet..."

"What is food to heartbreak and drama?" But Mary's half-smile was somewhat unconvincing as she followed Lily out of the Great Hall.

When, in the Entrance Hall, they passed Donna—who was on her way down to breakfast—Lily appeared not to notice her at all, and though Mary half-heartedly waved, their roommate made no response, and neither Lily nor Mary saw her look glumly after them.

(Waking Up, Again)

Beat.

Shit.

Beat.

No.

Beat.

Beat.

Beat.

His heart pounding, Remus Lupin's eyes flew open. He sat up in bed—a cot in the hospital wing—and he screamed.

He was shaking, covered in a cold sweat, and it was all James and Peter could do to restrain him from lunging out of the bed. His eyes were large, round, and dilated for a few seconds—a flash of yellow, and then they were their normal grey again, but more terrified than James had ever seen them.

"Holy shit," he swore frantically, gasping for air as though having just escaped a chokehold. "Holy shit," the werewolf repeated. "I—I did something? Something happened... Lily... she was... and James—James, I scratched you, God, I don't know... Shit, Prongs, something went wrong... what went wrong?" He was hysterical: manic and raw, like only the full moon could make the usually calm, collected Remus. James did not meet his friend's eye, and Remus feared the worst. "Did I bite someone?" he whispered. "James... did I bite...? For God's sake, answer me!"

"You didn't bite anyone," said Peter unexpectedly. "You're fine, alright?"

"What happened?" Remus continued to question James. Then he noticed something. "Where's Sirius?" Even Peter couldn't answer that. "Where the fuck is Sirius? What happened to him? I don't remember... I don't remember seeing him—was he...? James—Agrippa's sake don't just stand there like some pathetic..."

"Sirius told Snape," said James.

Ringing, clanging, deafening silence.

"He told him how to get into the Whomping Willow. Snape went down and saw you."

"I remember," whispered Remus faintly. "I remember—I attacked Snape, and... you. You saved him." Fear—cold, unholy terror—swept over him once again. "Snape knows..." he muttered frenziedly. " Snape knows—he'll tell—I'm out. I'm out. Dumbledore can't... I could've killed him. I could've changed him! It's too—I'm out." He ran his hands through his brown hair, stretching back the ghostly white skin of his face, which glistened with sweat and feverish tears. "Holy shit, how could this... how could this happen? I'm out of the school... I have to... could've killed..."

"You're not expelled," said James quietly. "McGonagall told me this morning. Dumbledore fixed it. Dumbledore fixed it all—with Snape, with everyone. You're safe. Snape's passed out over there..." He nodded vaguely across the infirmary, "...with a sleeping potion. Dumbledore fixed it for you."

"But—but how could Dumbledore fix it?" And then, something else registered with Remus. His hands dropped. "Sirius told? Why would he do that? Why would he tell Snape? James, why would he...?"

"Do the math, Remus," James interrupted acerbically. He couldn't bring himself to say the words. He couldn't bear to think it.

Remus's expression grew stony. "He wanted me to bite Snape. He wanted me to... to... He used me. He used that thing that I become to..." Remus's body contorted as he began to gag, and James grabbed a potion from the bedside table.

"Lupin—Remus, drink this. It'll help, c'mon..." James managed to get most of the potion down his friend's throat, and a few minutes later, Remus had almost entirely stopped shaking. He fell back in his cot, broken and exhausted.

"What—what happens now?" he managed to mutter after some time.

"Dumbledore's fixed it for you," said Peter. "You'll be alright, and... he seems confident that Snape won't tell."

Remus made a derisive noise. "And Sirius?"

"He's not expelled," Peter continued. "He lost a lot of points—Gryffindor won't be winning the house cup—and he can't play Quidditch again as long as he's at the school. Then there are some detentions. I'm not sure on the details, but..."

"He's out," interrupted James coldly. "I mean—with us. He's gone too far this time, and he's—we can't just forgive and forget." The others were quiet. "I'm done with him. Can we all agree on that? That Sirius isn't... that he's not one of us anymore... that he's out?"

A long silence followed, and then Remus spoke up. "I agree," he murmured, his voice raspy. "Sirius is out."

They looked at Peter. "Are you sure?" asked the last Marauder. "He's your best friend."

"He's not my best friend," said James. "He's a would-be murderer."

"He used me," said Remus.

Peter looked a little sad, but he nodded. "You're right... Sirius is out."

"Right," whispered James. "For good."

(How It Goes with Sev)

Severus would never know. This, Lily decided during her first encounter with her Slytherin friend—an event which did not occur until lunch hour the first day following the full moon.

At some point between breakfast and lunch, the news broke, and after that, it spread like wildfire. How, exactly, the word got out, Lily had no clear idea. There were bits and pieces that the general public could confirm—that Gryffindor's house point hourglass in the Entrance Hall seemed to have lost about a third of its sparkling red rubies and that Severus Snape had spent the night in the Hospital Wing, for instance. However, Lily never did find out who let it out that Severus Snape had confronted some kind of monster in the Shrieking Shack the night before and that James Potter been the one to save him.

She was exceptionally relieved that Remus's involvement was still a secret (although how Dumbledore had convinced Severus to keep it to himself was just another mystery), and equally surprised to see that Sirius's involvement was as well. While the Hogwarts rumor mill regularly picked up minute details, they seemed to miss the glaringly obvious: that James and Sirius were quite clearly at odds. They missed morning classes, the pair did not sit together, did not speak to one another, and both appeared intermittently distressed and furious.

Sev was not yet dismissed from the infirmary when Lily arrived at lunch hour with a written list of homework.

"Generally, I wouldn't let anyone visit under the circumstances," Madam Pomfrey informed the Gryffindor, "but you're the first to even ask to see him, and—well..."

Lily felt contempt bubble in her stomach at the knowledge that she was Severus's first visitor (why hadn't those gits from Slytherin shown up?), but merely nodded as Madam Pomfrey led the way to her friend's enclosed cot. She wondered vaguely if one of the other curtained off beds belonged to Remus.

Snape was awake when Madam Pomfrey admitted Lily, and he looked startled by her sudden appearance. He set down the book he had been reading, pushing it under the covers and adding: "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," Lily replied, deciding not to ask about the book. "To make sure you were alright." Madam Pomfrey departed to her office.

"Why? What are people saying?"

"Well—um... it's not really clear. They're saying a lot of different things." Because she wanted to hear what Sev had to say about it.

"Oh."

Lily waited for something else, and then pressed: "So what happened?"

Severus hesitated. "Nothing. It was nothing. No big deal."

Lily raised her eyebrows, genuinely surprised by his reluctance to tell her anything. Maybe he had promised not to tell. "Sirius Black is being punished for something..." she tested. "Does that have to do with you?"

Severus merely shrugged. "Who knows? Black's an idiot. He's always in detention."

Lily was moments from revealing the depth of her own knowledge on the situation, when she noticed something. Sev wasn't meeting her eye. He had an odd look about him, and there was unusual color in his cheeks.

And that was when Lily decided with certainty that Severus wouldn't know that she had been at the Willow the night before. He didn't need to know, and maybe there was a bit of spite mixed in, and it would surely be better for Black and Potter and Remus that as few people as possible knew of another student's endangerment, but mostly, Lily noticed something in Severus's expression that was... embarrassed, really. It was bad enough that James Potter had seen him at his most vulnerable, most powerless—it was bad enough that his supposed friends from Slytherin hadn't even shown up to make sure he was okay... she felt sorry for Sev, and she knew that if he had any idea of that fact, his humiliation would be incalculable. And Lily had seen first hand what humiliation did to Severus Snape. So, he would never know.

"Okay..." she said slowly."But you're not—not hurt or anything? You're feeling fine and all?"

"She..." Severus nodded towards Madam Pomfrey's office, "wants me to stay another night, but I don't need to. I'm fine."

"That's good. Oh—I brought your homework..."

Lily stayed for another half an hour, and in that time the pair talked casually enough, mostly about the lessons Severus had missed that morning. They distantly discussed nothing important, and thus did not argue once.

She had skipped lunch, so—when she left the Hospital Wing—Lily was mostly alone in the corridors. Her first instinct was to head down to the Great Hall and retrieve some much needed sustenance, but her stomach was twisting uncomfortably, and she wasn't sure it would hold anything down. She needed to see and speak with Luke, too, and while he might be in the Great Hall, she hadn't seen him at breakfast and wondered if he might be skipping the second meal as well. Then, Lily remembered the Marauders' Map, which was still in her possession (James hadn't been around all morning for her to return it), and she decided to find her Ravenclaw ex instead.

It was several minutes of searching through hundreds of labeled dots before Lily located Luke Harper's parchment manifestation, and—as expected—he was not in the Great Hall. Much to her dismay, he was in Professor Dumbledore's office.

(So-Called Ethics)

In another universe, Donna reflected, she would have been eating lunch with Lily. They would probably have been discussing the scandal surrounding Severus Snape and James Potter, or maybe Mary and Marlene would have been chattering about something while Donna griped at them to kindly shut up. Marlene would be complaining about food, and Mary would be gushing about a new boy, and Lily would be smiling knowingly or making sardonic comments. Or maybe Mary and Marlene would be off on their own, and it would just be Lily and Donna, and they'd talk about lessons or books or Quidditch or something.

At least she'd be talking.

It occurred to Donna that the only people she had actually spoken to within the last twenty-four hours were Charlie and Professor Flitwick. No one had approached her regarding Quidditch (actually, she hadn't seen Potter all morning), and no one else had addressed her at all...

Not one "Good morning." Not one "Hey, Shack, what d'you hear?" Not even a rude "Move over a bit, will you?"

Nothing.

Except for the roar of the general public surrounding her in the Great Hall, Donna's world was now silent, and it had been like this for—for weeks. No one was being unkind precisely... they just didn't have anything to say to Donna Shacklebolt.

Between bites of her sandwich, Donna suddenly felt very, very alone. She looked around, panicked, and noticed Adam McKinnon not far away.

"McKinnon!" she said, rather loudly and desperately. Adam looked up from his own meal, startled. He raised his eyebrows at her, and Donna realized she didn't actually have anything to say. "Hi," she finished weakly.

Unexpectedly, Adam rolled his eyes. Donna noticed he didn't look too well—he looked like he hadn't slept in about a year, actually. "Save it, Shack. I don't want to hear it."

And before Donna could ask what he didn't want to hear, Adam got up, abandoned his lunch, and walked briskly out of the Hall.

Bloody hell—even Adam McKinnon didn't like her! Adam McKinnon liked everyone!

She didn't remember saying anything horrible to him, either. She didn't remember saying anything to him at all, but it was quite possible she'd been what Lily called "tactless" during one of their classes together, purely by accident. If Adam was angry with her, there was almost certainly a reason (it did not occur to her that Adam's poor mood was directed generally, not specifically). Or, maybe, he just didn't want to talk to her. Maybe he just had nothing to say to her, like she'd had nothing to say to most people for the last six years. Maybe, after her humiliatingly emotional outbreak the other day, he figured she only wanted to bark at him or cry at him or... or maybe he just didn't much care for her.

Donna stared angrily into her pumpkin juice. Of course Adam McKinnon didn't want to talk to her when he was in a bad mood—he wasn't her friend, after all. No one—not a single person in that whole damn Great Hall—was her friend... she had always been quite clear about that: Lily was her friend, just Lily. She didn't need anyone else.

Except she'd lost Lily, and she had no one.

She'd lost Lily—and for what?

At that moment, a folded square of parchment fell on her plate. Surprised, Donna glanced around to see who might have dropped it, but a large group of Ravenclaws was passing the table, and she didn't see.

Donna unfolded the paper, and a few words were scribbled inside.

Shacklebolt,

6 p.m.—unused classroom 4th floor, off the tapestry of Hildebrand the Hairy.

-Charlie

A Lily-voiced part of her brain told her not to go, but the much stronger argument favored the opposing opinion. She had no one, but she kind of had Charlie, right?

Cassidy has Charlie, said the Lily in her head.

But that was just it. That was why Donna didn't feel guilty (not really). Cassidy was Charlie's girlfriend. Cassidy, not Donna, had Charlie. In the end, Charlie cared about Cassidy. Charlie fancied Cassidy and wanted to be with Cassidy. He didn't want Donna, and being with her, if anything, made him treat Cassidy better. So, in the end, Lily's so-called ethics meant nothing.

There were no feelings; there was no infidelity; it meant nothing. No one was getting hurt, and Donna—she needed this. Charlie didn't love her; Charlie loved his Cassidy. No one was getting hurt. She would show up at six, and she wouldn't feel guilty or traitorous. She wouldn't think about Cassidy, because she wanted to, and it didn't mean anything, and—no matter what Lily would say—no one was getting hurt.

(How It Goes With Luke)

"Luke!"

Luke Harper looked genuinely surprised to see Lily waiting for him not far from Professor Dumbledore's office. Besides that, he looked awful, too. He was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Lily," he replied, monotone, in a quiet, croaky voice.

She approached him, concern etched on her features and in her tone. "What happened? Why were you seeing Dumbledore? Did he find out about your being in the village?"

Luke didn't seem to understand. "Are you—are you joking?"

"Joking? No. Why?"

Comprehension—"You haven't heard, have you?"

She was almost afraid to ask. "Heard what?"

"You didn't read The Prophet this morning." He smiled mirthlessly. "Logan's dead, Lily."

"W-what?"

"That auror—Lathe. He killed him. He killed my brother."

"Luke..." She reached out to touch his shoulder, but the Ravenclaw moved away. "Luke, please..."

"Please what?" he nearly shouted. "I could have saved him, Lily, and you stopped me. You, and Lathe, and me and now—and now Logan's dead." There were tears in his brown eyes. "We killed him. I killed..."

"Luke, this isn't your fault!" said Lily; she felt tears of her own. "None of this is your fault. You..."

But as she tried to touch him again, Luke once more evaded her. "Stay away from me, please," he muttered, before turning to leave.

"Luke!"

Luke stopped several paces away. "I have to pack, Lily," he snapped.

"Pack? Pack for what?"

"I'm leaving," the wizard replied darkly. "I have to go to London. They want me to appear before the Wizengamot—to determine whether or not they can charge me."

Lily felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. She stepped forward to pursue—to say something, anything... to appease the anger, hate, fear, guilt, and grief in Luke's eyes... to fix this somehow... if only she could fix this... fix him...

"Lily, I don't..." Luke began to say, but he was interrupted. Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Lathe appeared from the statue of the griffin that constituted the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Miss Evans," said Professor McGonagall, "I believe you have class now."

"But, Professor..."

"No arguments," the Transfiguration teacher cut her off curtly; "despite appearances over the last few days, this is still a school, and there are still rules to be obeyed. To class, Miss Evans."

Professor Flitwick joined Luke, presumably as they traveled to the Ravenclaw Common Room, and Lily was left helplessly with McGonagall and Lathe. "Do you need me to escort you?" asked the former crisply. Lily watched Luke and Flitwick disappear around a corner, then sighed and shook her head.

"No, Professor."

"Very good."

The professor and the auror began to leave. "Wait," Lily called after them. "How long will Luke be gone?"

McGonagall looked to Lathe, who merely shook his head, indicating that he didn't know. Then, they turned and were gone.

---

Anger had won. In the raging battle of emotions that was James, anger had won out against anxiety and grief and regret and all the rest, and now he was just furious.

People were talking, but James didn't hear them. He didn't want to. At supper, the other students looked at him and whispered, but James didn't pay them any attention, because, though most of their words were of admiration, he didn't want to know what they thought, what they were saying. They didn't know anything, not really, and he didn't want to know what they imagined they did know.

He didn't want to do anything, actually. He wanted to sit somewhere, alone, and forget everything—to wipe his mind clean... to forget that Sirius had betrayed them (had betrayed Remus), to forget that Snape knew, and to forget that he had been wrong. Utterly, irrevocably, unforgivably wrong about Sirius, about the Marauders, about everything.

Remus hadn't returned from the Hospital Wing yet, and Peter sat across from him at Gryffindor table, but they both ate in silence. Peter looked miserable, and James had tried to care but couldn't. He tried to remind himself that, in the end, it was all okay. Dumbledore had fixed things with Snape—he had fixed things for Remus. He had even fixed things for Sirius.

But somehow, none of that resonated. The damage had already been done. Sirius had told... he had told Severus Snape. He had tried to murder someone. He had disregarded everything (Remus's feelings, Remus's safety, everything...) for a vendetta, and nothing—not ever—could un-ring that bell.

Sirius was out.

"I'm going upstairs," James told Peter, who nodded and replied that he would be along soon. The Marauder walked lethargically out of the Great Hall, ignoring whispers and stares that attacked from all directions. He fully intended to return to the Gryffindor boys' dormitory—maybe take his Nimbus out for a fly around the pitch, but when James reached this fourth floor, he had another idea. He started for the Hospital Wing instead.

"Mr. Lupin has just been dismissed," Madam Pomfrey informed James on his arrival. "He should be returning to your dormitory now."

James nodded and started to leave, when he spotted another curtained cot at the end of the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey returned to her office, but instead of leaving himself, James started towards the enclosed bed. Inside, Snape was reading.

Shock, anger—a plethora of negative expressions played across Snape's face on seeing James. "What do you want?" he demanded. "Get out of here, Potter." His typical contempt for James seemed to have multiplied tenfold.

"What did Dumbledore say to you?" James asked, evenly and darkly. His stomach twisted, his head ached—seeing the recuperating Snape was worse than he expected. The usual loathing surged through James's blood, heightened by the conniving nature of the Slytherin's intentions towards Moony the night before, but deterred and made invalid by James's own best friend's even more detestable intentions. In all his years at Hogwarts, James had never before felt guilty about hating Snape.

"What do you care?" snapped the other, his black eyes flashing. "It's none of your business."

"What did he say to you?" James angrily repeated, louder. "How did he convince you not to tell about Remus?"

Severus set down his book. His pale face was calm now. "Why do you want to know?" he reiterated. "What possible difference does it make to you?"

James didn't have an answer to that. He just needed to know. He needed to now that whatever reason Dumbledore had given for Snape to keep his mouth shut, it would hold—that Remus was safe. "It just does. What did he say to you?"

Snape smiled. "I hope it keeps you up tonight wondering."

James clenched his fist, fighting the dual reflexes to draw his wand or else hit Snape with everything he had. "I hate you," he said, quietly, venomously, truthfully.

Snape nodded. "I know."

---

More than anything else, what Remus Lupin had been dreading was the possibility that Sirius would be in the dormitory when he returned from the hospital wing. And he was.

Remus dropped his overnight bag on the floor, and Sirius—who was stretched out on his bed—sat up at once. The two wizards stared at each other for a long moment; Remus's expression was stony; Sirius's was pained.

"Moony..." the latter began, but Remus cut him off.

"Don't call me that," he snapped. "Don't even—just don't." He moved towards the dresser, and Sirius got to his feet.

"Remus, I'm sorry," he pleaded.

"I don't care."

"And you have every right to be furious with me, but..."

"But what?" shouted Remus, turning on him. "What exactly do you think you can say to make any of this better? How can you even imagine that I would care about anything you have to say?"

"I know that," choked Sirius. "I do, believe me. I just—I want to talk to you. I want to explain..."

"You have nothing to explain," Remus spat. "There is nothing in this world that you can say that would change how I feel right now."

"I didn't mean to hurt you..."

"Of course you didn't." Remus laughed bitterly. "Because you never—you have never understood that the thing that I become once a month is still me! And whatever happens to the werewolf—to 'Moony...' that happens to me. If the thing in the Shrieking Shack had killed Snape, I would have killed Snape. I would go to prison for it, and I would be the one who would have carry that around with me for the rest of my goddamn life! But you didn't think about that—I was just your plaything, wasn't I? The full moon was just something to amuse you when you were bored!"

"That's not it, Remus! That's never what it was about, and you..."

"That's exactly what it was about for you, Sirius!"

Sirius could not respond, for the door opened, and James appeared. He closed the door behind him and looked between Sirius and Remus, trying to determine what was happening there.

"What's going on?" Neither wizard responded. "What are you doing here, Black?" James continued.

"It's—it's my dormitory..."

"Is it?" asked James coldly.

They were all quiet, and then Sirius said: "So that's it? Just like that? I'm out."

"Yes," said James. "You're out."

"After everything?"

"There was never anything," Remus muttered. "There were never any 'Marauders.' We were never brothers or mates or whatever we thought we were. It was all a lie, because it was only a game to you, Sirius."

Sirius looked to James for an argument, but Prongs gave none. "It was all a lie," he agreed.

"It wasn't."

"Of course it was," Remus went on. "You think because you're in Gryffindor, you're not the same as your fanatic family? Truth is, you're exactly like them. They think muggles and muggleborns are lower then them, and no matter what you say, you don't think of me as a person—as a human being, because I'm a werewolf, and it's your birthright to think that you're better... that you can do whatever the hell you want with me, because I'm lesser. You're a Black. You're born—you're built that way. A heartless, cruel murderer. And you'll never be anything but that... because you can't change. We were just stupid enough to think that you could."

Sirius fixed his grey eyes on Remus. "That's not true," he whispered. "I never thought..."

"It is true," said James. "You're out."

The bitterness on Remus's face confirmed it. Sirius breathed unsteadily—he didn't know where to look, where to go, except he had to get out of there. He started for the door, when it opened, admitting Peter.

"Dumbledore wants to see you two," said the last Marauder, nodding to James and Sirius.

---

As predicted by the Marauders' Map (still in her possession—Agrippa, she really needed to return it), Lathe was in his former office when Lily arrived. He seemed to be filing papers into boxes, and Lily realized almost at once why.

"You're leaving?" she asked.

Lathe nodded, waving his wand and sealing up a few boxes. "The security detail is staying behind, but Belby will be in charge. Everyone directly involved in the raid last night is called back into the Ministry."

"Why?" She entered the room a little more, leaning against the wall beside the door.

"Three aurors and two suspects dead," explained Lathe calmly. "Both suspects were members of prominent families. There'll be an investigation to make sure that the suspects' deaths were unavoidable—that they weren't acts of vengeance."

"They weren't, were they?" asked Lily softly. Lathe looked up from his packing.

"I don't enjoy killing," he said. They were both quiet for a few seconds, while Lathe continued to place stacks of parchment and other things into boxes. Then, without looking at her, the auror answered the question that Lily hadn't dared ask. "Luke was involved, Evans."

Lily didn't feel much like playing games, and so she simply asked: "Can you prove it?"

The older wizard looked a little surprised by this response. "We'll see. He's young, and I don't believe he was actually at the scene. The worst he'll be accused of is aiding a fugitive, which—well, it will depend."

"Logan's dead," Lily pointed out. "What use is Luke to you now anyway?"

"None," admitted Lathe. "And I know he's no death eater, but it's not up to me. Melencamp... Prewett... Diggory... three aurors dead, Evans, and Melencamp was Robards's partner—he won't rest until everyone involved with her death faces the Wizengamot."

Lily nodded, knowing he was right. "Do you think Luke will be charged?" she could not help but ask.

Lathe hesitated. "I don't know. But the Harpers have money and influence—he won't be alone. And I'm sure it's little consolation to you now, but I'll do what I can for him. I'm not saying I'll lie, but—I believe he only understood part of what he was doing. Of course, it will be best for him if he cooperates—I don't suppose you'll tell him that?"

"I doubt it would make a difference."

Lathe raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I—um—I convinced him not to go down to Logan last night," explained the witch. "He thinks he could have saved his brother if he had been there."

"Maybe," said Lathe quietly. "Maybe he would've killed another three aurors." He finished packing away the files and mumbled: "I hate paperwork. There's nothing I hate more than paperwork."

Lily fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, uncertain if there was anything else to be said to Lathe. "I'm sorry," she murmured at length. "About your friends, the three aurors. And I'm sorry you had to kill someone." Because, strangely, she could tell that bothered him.

"I'm sorry about Harper," he replied.

"Logan was a death eater."

"I'm not talking about Logan."

Lily nodded again. "Right. Well... it was nice meeting you, Mr. Lathe."

Lathe inclined his head, as though to say "Likewise," and then Lily departed.

---

It was not McGonagall and Slughorn who joined the headmaster in his office this time when the two Marauders arrived. A tall, slim witch with short, dark auburn hair and hazel eyes sat in one of three chairs. On the boys' entrance, she stood up, worry on her face.

"Mum?" said James, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Albus—that is, Professor Dumbledore owled me," she replied, crossing to the two wizards at once. Dumbledore also rose from his chair, but remained behind his desk. Mrs. Potter hugged both James and Sirius, giving the latter a sad little look before turning to Dumbledore again. "May I have a moment with the boys, Albus?" she asked, and the headmaster nodded.

"Of course."

When they were alone, Mrs. Potter inspected them, as though looking over not one, but two of her sons. "Are you alright?" she asked anxiously. "Neither of you are hurt?"

They both shook their heads. "We're fine, Mrs. Potter," murmured Sirius, unable to meet her eye. She looked at him piteously.

"Oh, Sirius, don't worry so. It was a mistake. People make mistakes..."

"Mum!" interrupted James angrily.

"You've made your fair share of mistakes, James Potter," reminded his mother. "Not the least of which is failing to mention to your mother and father that one of your best friends is a werewolf."

"You're right, Mum," James retorted. "Because that omission is definitely equal to attempted murder."

"James..."

"Mum, don't defend him!"

"I'm surprised that I have to. He's your best friend, James!"

"No, he's not."

"James—no, Sirius, you don't have to leave. James, what Sirius did was—awful. It was a terrible, regrettable mistake. But he has been your best friend since you were children... he lives with us for Merlin's sake..."

"Does he now?" spat James.

Sirius squirmed.

"Of course he does," said Mrs. Potter firmly. "James, I understand that you're angry, but Sirius is family."

"No, he's not," James repeated through gritted teeth. "He's not my family." He looked at Sirius. "You're not. I can't tell you whether or not you're allowed to stay in my family's house, but I can say that you are not my family."

"James..."

But James was already on his way out of the office.

Mrs. Potter heaved a great sigh and turned to Sirius. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. "You know James—he's stubborn, and..."

"He's right," whispered Sirius. His hands were shaking. "He's right about me. Mrs. Potter, I'm very grateful for everything you've done for me... for even just showing up here today, but—I can't go home with you this summer."

"Rubbish. Of course you can. Just because James is in a temper now..."

"No, I can't. It's not because I don't want to, but I just—I couldn't do that."

"But where would you go? You haven't any money..."

"I'll figure something out."

"Sirius, this is silly. If it's because of James..."

"It is," said Sirius.

Mrs. Potter looked sadly at him, resting one comforting hand on his shoulder. "You're a good person, Sirius Black."

And it broke his heart that he knew she was wrong.

(How It Goes With James)

Lily caught up with James on the third floor. She wiped the map clean and called out to the Quidditch Captain. He paused at the sound of his name and turned to see Lily hurrying towards him, but he barely registered anything she said at first.

"I've been chasing you for two floors," she told him. "I wanted to give you back your map."

"What?" asked James, rubbing his forehead and trying to banish his headache.

"The Map," Lily repeated, holding up the parchment indicatively.

"You still have it," noted James. "Right. I lent it to you."

Lily looked at him curiously. "Are you alright?" But he didn't seem to hear her. "James? Are you okay?"

The wizard snapped out of his haze. "No, I'm not okay. Why the hell would I be okay?"

"Right. Sorry." Lily handed him the map. "How's Remus?"

But again, James appeared to have gone temporarily deaf. "Nice of you to give it back," he muttered sarcastically. "Weren't you finished sneaking into the village, or did you have other ex-boyfriends to chase?"

"James," sighed Lily, folding her arms.

"You lied to me," he snapped.

"What?"

"You failed to mention you were chasing Harper to stop him from meeting his death eater brother. You also failed to mention the aurors in Hogsmeade!"

"I know," she replied. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have omitted that."

She looked genuinely apologetic, James thought. She looked completely sorry for her little lie, and she was admitting guilt, which was decent of her, he supposed. But he was angry—angry with Sirius and his mother and maybe with Lily a bit, too, and he wanted to be angry.

"You manipulated me," James accused, "And you didn't even have the decency to follow the one request I made! What the hell were you doing outside? I told you to take the passage—I told you to take the passage before sunset! That was the only qualification I gave, and you didn't even do that!"

"It was blocked! What was I supposed to do? Stay in the village?"

"Well it couldn't have mattered much to you, could it? I mean, promises are clearly meaningless in your mind."

"That's not fair!" Lily retorted, incensed. "Don't take your anger out on me... we both know that's what's happening here." She tried to sidestep him, but James grabbed her arm. She met his eye, surprised and angry.

"Let go of me!"

"You manipulated me," he repeated coldly. "You manipulated me to get the map."

"I did not."

"Yes, you did. You came up there and manipulated me for your own means!"

"I asked you if I could use the map, James! That's not manipulative! I told you where I was going—Agrippa's sake, let go of me!" She yanked her arm free.

"You came to me because you knew I would agree!" protested James irately. "You could have gone to Sirius or Peter, but you came to me because you knew you would be able to talk me into giving you the map without telling me the truth!" He was going to regret this, and he knew it. "And you don't even care! You honestly feel no remorse over the fact that you used me to get to your ex-boyfriend! And then you felt free to wander...!"

"I did not use you to get to Luke, Potter!" Lily shouted. "Furthermore, I haven't a clue what you're talking about!"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" He matched her volume. "'I hate asking, James. I really don't have any right to.' Like you didn't know you were going to get exactly what you wanted! You knew you could show up looking desperate and helpless, and I wouldn't be able to resist helping you!"

"I was desperate, James! I was desperate enough to go to you, wasn't I?"

"That wasn't desperation! That was craft!"

"What?"

"You knew I wouldn't say no!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how you feel no remorse using how I feel about you to get what you want!"

And then they were both quiet for several seconds. Lily's heart raced, and her face flushed, and she wondered why she suddenly felt... terrified. James, however, seemed to have no regrets. His cheeks were red with fury, and his breathing heavy, but when Lily tried to speak, he cut her off without hesitation.

"Don't look so goddamn incredulous."

"James," she began, softer now, "I didn't..."

"Really?" he asked sarcastically. "You didn't what, exactly? You didn't know? Of course you did! Agrippa, I asked you out every week for ages!"

"That w-w-was a y-year ago!" Lily managed to stammer.

"You knew perfectly well," he sneered. "Girls always know."

"James, I swear to God, I didn't mean to..."

"Of course you did!" He spoke loudly again. "Lily, you've always used people! You used Harper to get over losing Snivellus! You used my asking you out as an opportunity to put me down... to prove a point to Snape..."

"Don't rewrite history, James," Lily interjected, the heat returning to her voice. "Your 'asking me out' was an attention-seeking stunt, and I turned you down because I didn't fancy you!"

"You turned me down so you wouldn't lose Snape! And you lost him anyway!"

Lily shook her head, staring at the wizard before her disbelievingly. "You haven't changed at all, James Potter," she murmured at length. "You are really that arrogant. Is that honestly what you think? That I turned you down because of Snape? James, I turned you down because of you. Because you were a bully and a git. And for the last year, I thought you were actually changing... growing up, maturing, behaving like a little bit of a human being! But now you're here, proving me wrong, and I—I honestly can't believe that I've been so stupid! I did not manipulate you, Potter, and the only reason you think I did is because that's the sort of thing you would do."

"Bullshit."

"Oh shut up."

She pushed past him, walking quickly with her arms folded and her expression furious. Still, anger was not the only thing that fueled her, and it was not the only cause of the burning tears in her eyes as she stormed towards the staircase. She felt betrayed.

James did not watch her go. He stood still for a several seconds, livid—infuriated with everything. Adrenaline pulsed through him, and he had to do something... he had to move... run, go, do something... When his fist hit the stone corridor wall, he heard the bones crack and pain shot through his hand.

(One Week Later)

It was the same old argument, and frankly, Lily was sick of it. She knew the trajectory by heart—she knew where Sev would take the argument, how he would change the topic, how she would argue, how they would end up agreeing on nothing, with one of them reminding the other that they were supposed to be friends.

It was the same old argument, but it seemed like forever since they had actually had it, Sev and her. For so long, their conversations had been so... impersonal, that fights (of any variety) had been more than rare. Since his removal from the infirmary, however, and in light of the whispers surrounding James and him, his mood had been more argumentative than usual.

The Gryffindor and the Slytherin walked across the courtyard on their way to Friday afternoon Herbology.

So far, the argument had danced through the usual areas: why was he always so negative about her house? Sev was supposed to be her friend, Mulciber and Avery were gits... they were approaching dangerous territory now as Lily brought up Mulciber's attack on Mary... Dark Magic was the topic that always made Sev the most uncomfortable...

It was the same old argument, and frankly, Lily was sick of it.

"It was Dark Magic, and if you think that's funny—" Lily started to say, her green eyes narrow as slits as she stormed across the courtyard.

"What about the stuff Potter and his mates get up to?" demanded Snape, overwrought with resentment, which Lily supposed was only added to by the agitation she struggled to repress at the sound of Potter's name.

"What's Potter got to do with anything?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"They sneak out at night. There's something weird about that Lupin. Where does he keep going?"

Lily remembered her resolution to keep quiet about her knowledge of Lupin's condition, and she knew (or surmised) that Snape had made some kind of promise to Dumbledore that he would not tell anyone. Thus, the fact that he kept dropping unsubtle hints to her was frustrating.

"He's ill," she insisted. "They say he's ill—"

"Every month at the full moon?"

"I know your theory. Why are you so obsessed with them anyway? Why do you care about what they're doing at night?" More familiar conversational territory, and Lily thought she knew what was coming next... Sev never answered that question to her satisfaction.

"I'm just trying to show you they're not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are," he said, taking Lily by surprise. The conversation had taken an unfamiliar turn, and he was staring at her with his black eyes—staring strangely, like... like...

She broke eye contact. "They don't use Dark Magic, though. And you're being really ungrateful." Because she was just so... annoyed... and because Sev couldn't possibly believe she hadn't heard the gossip: "I heard what happened the other night. You went sneaking down that tunnel by the Whomping Willow, and James Potter saved you from... whatever's down there..."

He reacted as she had predicted he would. "Saved? Saved?" Furiously. "You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends' too! You're not going to—I won't let you..."

"Let me?" Lily quite nearly shouted. "Let me?"

What was it with men? Potter grabbing her arm... Sev trying to control her friendships while she had no say in his...

"I didn't mean—I just don't want to see you made a fool of..." Lily was about to inform him that no such thing was within the realm of possibility, and she was more than capable of taking care of herself, when he unexpectedly said: "He fancies you! James Potter fancies you!"

He hadn't meant to say it.

"I'm talking about how you feel no remorse using how I feel about you to get what you want!"

Lily's breath hitched, and she raised her eyebrows.

"You used Harper to get over losing Snivellus! You used my asking you out as an opportunity to put me down... to prove a point to Snape... you turned me down to prove a point to Snape, and you lost him anyway!"

"I know James Potter's an arrogant toerag. I don't need you to tell me that."

She navigated the conversation away from James—back to familiarity, to Mulciber and Avery, and God, why was he friendswith them?

Snape was calming down, though. The argument was over, and she didn't know why, but he took her criticisms of his Slytherin house-mates surprisingly well. She let it drop as they walked down the hill towards the greenhouses, and the debate ended when, in the classroom, they went their separate ways.

---

Luke returned to Hogwarts on Saturday morning. Lily might not have found out for some time, except that he happened to arrive when she was passing through on her way to breakfast. He was not alone, either, but accompanied by a petite, older woman. Lily recognized the witch at once as Luke's mother. She was plump, but pretty (or at least bore traces at once having been quite lovely) and tastefully attired in cerulean robes. Her hair was curly, short, and blond, and her lips were painted bright red. She was elegant, fashionable, and—at the moment—in evident pain. Mother and son were deep in conversation in the Entrance Hall. His trunk lay at his feet, and he wore plain green robes, rather than the Hogwarts uniform.

Luke caught her eye while Lily descended the marble staircase, and she momentarily debated whether or not she should speak to him. In the end, her need to know his fate won out, and she asked Mary and Marlene to go along without her.

Mrs. Harper's brown eyes narrowed on Lily as the redhead approached, and she blushed uncomfortably.

"Hello, Mrs. Harper," she greeted softly. "Luke." Luke nodded, and Lily realized that he had not wanted to speak with her at all. "Um—I just... are you back? For good?"

"They aren't raising charges," replied Luke coolly. "They had no real evidence."

"So you're back?" asked Lily, relieved. "That's good. And you only missed a week, so you shouldn't have much trouble catching up."

"I'm not back," said Luke. "I'm not staying here. I only came to pick up the rest of my belongings."

"You're not... you're not expelled, are you?"

"Of course not," Mrs. Harper spoke up. "They could never expel my son."

"Then... I don't understand..."

"I'm leaving," said Luke. "I'm dropping out."

"Luke..." She glanced at Mrs. Harper for support, but the elder witch looked apathetic. "You can't! You take N.E.W.T.s in a few weeks! You have to think about your future..."

"And what of my brother's future?" the Ravenclaw snapped. "What about Logan's future? Lathe murdered him, Lily, and he was allowed to stay here... walk through the halls, hold an office... if the likes of Lathe are the protection at Hogwarts, I don't want to be here."

"But Lathe's gone!"

Luke snorted bitterly. "You know that I can't stay here, Lily. Not one more day."

"Luke..."

"Lily, I ask that you do not distress my son any longer," Mrs. Harper cut in snidely. "I believe he has made it very clear that he has no more interest in you. You really must let him move forward. He belongs with his family now."

Luke did not contradict his mother's apparent misapprehensions concerning their relationship, and Lily stared between the two, amazed. There were a dozen things she would like to shout at Mrs. Harper, but all she said before turning and walking into the Great Hall was: "You're letting your son ruin his future, Mrs. Harper. I hope you're pleased with yourself."

---

With Marlene spending most of her time in evasion mode in the girls' dormitory, Lily found herself futilely attempting to finish her large stack of homework in the library on Saturday evening, accompanied only by Mary.

However, Lily's brain was swimming with Luke and Snape and Potter, and she could not concentrate on anything, much less homework. She found her attention drifting.

"I'm surprised you wanted to come here at all," noted the prefect idly to her friend, twirling her quill between her fingers.

"What do you mean?" asked Mary.

"You hate the library," Lily reminded her.

"Oh. Right. Well... people change, right?"

"So—you like the library now?"

"Love it."

Lily raised her eyebrows. "Liar. What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Mary."

"What? Nothing's wrong. I'm fine!"

"Mary."

"I'm fine, Lily."

"Mary."

Mary scowled. "Fine." She looked mournful and leaned in close to circumvent eavesdroppers. "I don't really—I don't want to be alone."

"What do you mean?" asked Lily, confused.

The brunette seemed embarrassed by the confession: "Ever since Mulciber attacked me, I don't want to be alone."

"Oh, Mary." Lily put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry, of course, how stupid of me!"

"No, no... I haven't exactly talked about it. It's easier just to act like nothing happened... the gossip has died down already. I just—I hate feeling like at any moment I could..."

"Mary, nothing is going to happen to you," Lily promised. "I won't let it, and Marlene won't let it, and if anyone ever tries to lay a wand on you again, I promise I'll be the first one to hex them to the Quidditch pitch."

Mary smiled weakly. "I don't like being afraid," she said. "But I am. I don't belong in Gryffindor, do I?"

Lily shook her head at once. "Mary, from the moment I met you, I've been jealous of how brave you are. You can make friends with anyone... you're comfortable talking to anyone—you can just go up to a complete stranger and strike up a conversation. That's how we became friends, right?"

"That's not being brave..."

"You're always willing to try new things; you say what you're thinking; you don't care what other people think of you. You're brave and strong, and Mulciber can't take that away from you. You can't let him."

Mary remained quiet for a while. When she spoke again, it was soft and anxious: "Lily, when Mulciber used the Imperius on me, I could—I heard a voice telling me what to do, and I couldn't... I mean, I had to obey it. It was directing me, but I didn't have a choice." Lily leaned closer, anticipating the point that the other witch was trying to make. "But I heard another voice, too. No, that's not it. I—I felt something else. I heard Mulciber's thoughts, his orders to me, but I felt... I think I felt what he was feeling."

"And—what was that?"

The brunette shook her head. "I don't know—but... it frightened me."

"Mary..."

"Lily, I think Mulciber is a death eater." She looked Lily square in the eye, her voice and expression grimmer than the latter had ever seen it.

"He's only a sixth year at Hogwarts," Lily pointed out. "What would You-Know-Who want with him?"

"I don't know, but I think he is. I think he's a death eater."

Mary returned to the Common Room with Frank and Alice about an hour later, but Lily remained in the library, not because she was particularly interested in her homework, but because she had another task to perform. From her book bag, she pulled the notebook that Severus had given her for Christmas, and on the first blank page available, she scribbled a note.

---

"Hi," began Lily awkwardly.

Snape looked a little confused by their current setting—the vacant classroom on the second floor—and waited expectantly for an explanation as to why Lily had requested his presence there.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "I wanted to talk to you alone, though."

"O-okay."

"It's about Mulciber." Snape's anxiety vanished like smoke, and he looked a little weary now. Anticipating an argument, Lily rushed on: "I don't want to fight, Sev. I just want to ask you something." He raised his eyebrows. "Is—do you think Mulciber's involved in anything... dangerous?"

"Lily..."

"He used an Unforgivable Curse, Sev. That's got to be a sign of something, right? It seems like maybe he's... maybe he's a death eater."

Snape made a scoffing sound. "Lily, what would... what would he want with a sixth year at Hogwarts? And Mulciber's not even a prefect."

"I'm not joking, Sev."

"Neither am I. You're overreacting about this Mary Macdonald situation."

"I'm not overreacting! It was Dark Magic he used!"

"It was the Imperius—it's not even that bad!"

"What about Marlene? Someone attacked her with something much worse than the Imperius!"

Severus flushed a little. "Nick Mulciber is not a death eater," he said firmly. "Really, Lily. Trust me."

Lily's green eyes met Severus's black ones, and she realized something—something frightening, that she had realized before but suppressed for a long time. She didn't trust him.

(Hurt)

Donna arrived in the unused classroom off the Entrance Hall a few minutes after nine on Saturday, and, as expected, Charlie was waiting. He had arranged this meeting, too—just as he had the last three, and it struck Donna as odd, because she was typically the one in charge of making "appointments." Not that she minded the decreased responsibility.

Still, on entering the classroom, she ought to have sensed that something was off. Charlie wasn't wearing his typical smirk; he wasn't lounging in a desk; he made no mocking remark on her entrance. Rather, he looked a bit ill. He leaned uneasily against the unemployed teacher's desk, and seemed startled by the sound of the opening door.

Donna raised her eyebrows. "Is something wrong?" she asked, amused.

Some of the natural color returned to Charlie's face. He smiled a bit and shook his head. "No. Everything's fine."

"Good."

She locked the door with her wand, and then walked towards Charlie. She leaned in close, brushing his lips with her own and playing at seduction for the pure fun of it. His breathing changed, and she smiled, running one finger from his ear to his collarbone, while the other traced shapes on his leg. Then she kissed him, slowly and roughly, biting his lower lip as he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer.

He didn't make a move for her shirt like she expected, but his hands found her hair instead. His lips moved to her neck, and Donna closed her eyes. "Foreplay? Really, Plex?" she joked and began to undo his collar. Charlie returned his lips to hers, and it was nearly a minute before he pulled back, presumably for air. He was grinning.

"I knew you'd like that last bit," Donna remarked confidently.

Charlie was quiet for a couple seconds. Then—"I'm breaking up with Cassidy."

Donna stared. "Okay. Congratulations. Is that it, or was there something I might actually care about?"

The Ravenclaw rolled his eyes. "I'm breaking up with Cassidy," he repeated. "I want to be with you."

...

Shit.

"What the hell do you mean you want to 'be with me?'" demanded Donna, putting as much distance between herself and Charlie as was possible. "That's not funny, Charlie Plex!"

"It's not a joke," insisted Charlie, straightening up. "Listen, Donna, I like you. You're funny, you're beautiful—you're an amazing kisser. And you're kind of a bitch, which is a weird turn on. I like you. I want to be with you. More... normally."

He closed the distance between them, and tried to kiss her, but Donna stopped him. She slapped him.

"Are you bloody mad?" she asked, stepping back. "Agrippa's sake, have you lost your sodding mind?"

"No," Charlie stressed. "Honestly, Shacklebolt, I fancy you, and I think you fancy me, too."

And in that moment, Donna had two realizations. The first was a strange kind of realization—the kind where one suddenly acknowledges something that they believed they already knew. Donna did not fancy Charlie. She genuinely felt nothing romantic for him whatsoever.

The second realization was more unexpected: she did not hate Charlie. She bore him no ill will. She might have even kind of cared about him a little.

"Charlie..." she began unsteadily, "I can't be with anyone normally. That's not me."

"Fine." Charlie shrugged, sincerely unperturbed. "Nothing has to change. We can just continue like this. Believe me, I'm fine with it. We can..." He kept talking, but Donna didn't pay much attention. She was too busy coming to her senses.

She had, at various times in their "relationship," considered the possibility that it might end badly. She had considered that she might get her heart broken... that she might begin to feel jealous of Cassidy... that Cassidy would be devastated if she ever found out… but never had it occurred to Donna that—aside from the potential physical violence from his betrayed girlfriend—Charlie might end up hurt.

Except, he would. And she, Donna, was going to hurt him. Because in the end, someone always, always got hurt.

"...nothing has to change," Charlie was saying. "But I just wanted you to know that I..."

"Charlie, stop," Donna interrupted, breathing deeply. "Please stop."

"What's wrong?"

Now was her last chance, Donna realized. Now was her opportunity to take the simplest route—to let Charlie fancy her while she reciprocated with nothing. Now was the time to take advantage of a surprisingly neat ending to a sloppy business. Let him break up with Cassidy; let him make things square with her; avoid confrontation; enter into a relationship that risked nothing (for her anyway), that would be decent enough even for Lily to approve. Now was the time.

"I don't want you," she said, her voice breaking a little. "I don't have feelings for you. This was—this was just a mistake." The enthusiasm had not quite faded from Charlie's face; he stared at her, evidently not expecting this response. "I know this doesn't sound like me, but I—I really don't want to hurt you, Charlie. I just—I don't have feelings for you."

Charlie remained quiet while he organized his thoughts. Donna wasn't sure if she should stay or make a run for it, and then he spoke: "So all this time—you've really just... you've really been just as much of a bitch as you've been seemed. You didn't mind risking my relationship—screwing with my mind... and you didn't even like me?"

"Charlie..."

"God, you are a heartless bitch."

With that, Charlie left, slamming the door behind him.

(How It Goes With Sirius)

Lily returned to the Common Room rather after curfew. Except for the dying fire, the room was rather dark when she arrived, presumably indicating that it was empty. However, as she stepped inside and the torches along the perimeter of the room lit up, Lily found that she was not, in fact, alone. Sirius Black lay on one of the couches with a pillow from the dorms under his head and a thin blanket spread over him. He wore his pajamas and, though he lay quite still, was awake.

"You're sleeping down here?" Lily asked, approaching the sofa.

Sirius looked over at her, startled. He must have been quite lost to his thoughts, because he hadn't even noticed the lights coming on. "Sleeping?" he echoed, straightening up a bit and looking embarrassed. "Only in a very loose sense of the word. I'm... lying down and faking it if anyone should pass by."

Lily pushed up the single blanket and sat down beside her classmate, near his feet. "Is it that bad in the dormitory? You didn't even want to sleep there?"

"Oh, no," replied Sirius, sitting up all the way. "What I wanted had nothing to do with it. I was voted out."

"Voted out?"

"Not officially, of course. But that's James for you... he can be as enigmatic as he wants, or he can communicate to you exactly what he's thinking with just a glance. And it was pretty obvious last Friday that I wasn't wanted in that dormitory."

Lily nodded, understanding with the painful recollection of her own most recent encounter with the wizard in question. "You can't... you can't exactly blame them, can you?"

"God, no." Sirius made eye contact for the first time. "No, never, I... that is, don't think I'm complaining about this. It's... I could have gotten James killed, almost got Remus expelled, arrested, and hurt... of course I'm not..." He broke off. "Listen, Lily, you're—you're a stop on the Sirius Black apology tour, so I guess I should just get this over with now. I'm—I'm so, so fucking sorry."

"I know you are," replied Lily quietly. "I know you didn't mean any of it."

"You—you know I didn't mean any of it, do you? How the fuck do you know that? I don't even know that." He made some half-hearted attempt at a laugh.

"Well," began Lily slowly; "You don't want Remus to go to prison. You didn't want James to get hurt, and you certainly don't want to be sleeping—or pretending to be sleeping—on this sofa, did you?"

"But the other part... you're not sure I didn't mean that, are you?"

Lily took a little more time on this answer. "You don't want to be a murderer," she said at length. "And if you had used that ridiculous head of yours for a minute, I think you would have realized that deep down you didn't want Severus dead, either... not by your own hands, at any rate."

Sirius leaned back against the back of the sofa, smirking bitterly; he didn't seem to know how to outright frown. "You're an optimist. I don't know what I would have wanted if I took the time to think, but it seems to me that the very fact that I did it—tried to murder him without a second thought... that shows what I wanted."

"All it shows," contradicted Lily, "is that you weren't thinking one way or the other."

"I don't know." He reached across to the end table, where a pack of cigarettes rested. "Do you mind?" he asked, and she shook her head. "I just—I was walking through the hallway and... I'd just had my uncle—not that it's an excuse, I'm just... I saw Snape in Hogsmeade with Regulus, and I knew he was up to something. And he was just being—just a little bitch... sorry... but... Sniv—Snape's been after Moony—after Remus for years and... it was like—like any other prank to me, y'know? Like, every time we pulled something, we would do things that... that fit. Like inflating Bertram Aubrey's head, because he's such an arrogant prat. Or making Melinda Kettlegrove's ears gigantic, because she's always eavesdropping. And Snape... he's always trying to get Moony, and it just came to me. I would give him exactly what he wanted. I would tell him how to get to Remus and—" with increased irony, "—it would be perfect."

There was a long silence; he lit the cigarette. "I forgive you," said Lily after some time. "You said you're sorry, and I forgive you."

"For nearly getting you killed?"

"Yes."

"And for nearly killing your friend?"

"Yes."

"And for nearly getting another one of your friends thrown into prison?"

"Yes."

Sirius started to laugh, a little more genuinely. "That's a lot to forgive, Evans. You really do think everyone deserves a second chance, don't you?"

"No." Lily shook her head. "But who am I to say who does deserve one and who doesn't?"

Sirius exhaled the cigarette smoke, a disbelieving but amused expression on his face. "You're fantastic, do you know? I think you're the only person in the world who doesn't loathe me at the moment."

"They have legitimate cases," Lily agreed with a sigh. "But you'll live to sleep in a real bed again. They'll forgive you eventually."

After a long drag: "What makes you so certain?"

"They're your friends," she said, as though it were obvious. "They care about you; they want to forgive you, and when it feels alright, they will."

"A fucking optimist," Sirius murmured under his breath. Then, in normal tones he continued: "I'm not so sure. It is a lot to forgive, and... and I said some things to James that night... things that might be difficult to forget. Plus, he..." Sirius stopped, working on his cigarette instead.

"He what?" Lily wanted to know.

The Marauder averted his eyes, staring into the dying embers of the fireplace. "He doesn't see it like you do, Evans. He's more in my camp on this one. He thinks that..."

"Sirius?"

But he did not directly answer the question; instead, he started on a new, seemingly unrelated strain: "Do you know, it is pure chance that I'm sitting here right now? I mean, if I had chosen a different compartment that first day of school... six years ago, if I had just taken five more steps and gone into the next compartment, I wouldn't be here right now. I wouldn't have become James's friend on the train, I probably would have been sorted into Slytherin, and—and everything would be different."

"I doubt that you would be in Slytherin," Lily argued thoughtfully. "You don't strike me as the ambitious type."

"It wouldn't matter... my whole family has been in Slytherin. Even cousin Andromeda and... and Professor Black, and they weren't exactly good and proper members of the Noble House of Black either. They've all been in Slytherin, because from the moment we're conscious that something called Hogwarts exists, we're told that when we go there, we'll be in Slytherin. Just like James was told that Slytherin house is for cutthroats and traitors, I was told that it's the house Blacks are sorted into. And that's it. It's... it's like a religion. But when James started talking about Gryffindor house—" Sirius seemed only slightly conscious that he was talking to Lily now, "—he made it sound like... fucking heaven. My mum, she always made it seem as though to be a Black, I had to be in Slytherin, but James made Gryffindor sound like... like being human and being alive and... having a little goddamn fun for once. And if he hadn't... if I'd taken five extra steps and gone to the next door, which I could just as easily have done, I would never have been here... I didn't care about politics or blood or family back then. I just wanted to... have fun. And if I hadn't gone into the compartment where James was, I would have put on the Sorting Hat and asked to be in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and I would be—I'd be just like them, torturing muggleborns and calling you 'mudblood' and feeling superior because I'm..." with heightened bitterness, "Sirius fucking Black." He ashed the cigarette absentmindedly. "Turns out, not even James's enthusiasm can circumvent destiny. I may wear the gold and red tie, but I'm just like them."

"You're not," said Lily with conviction. She thought of Mulciber and repeated: "You're not like them."

"What's the matter?" (That same bitter smirk, as he turned his grey blue eyes on her) "Don't you believe in destiny, Lily? Don't you think it's possible I have a destiny to be Slytherin, no matter what color necktie I wear?"

"No, I don't," said Lily firmly. "Not the second part, anyway. I think that—that the only things we're meant to do are good, and we choose whether or not we want to fulfill that. And you... you've made half the choice. You've chosen not to hate muggles and to defend those who can't defend themselves. But you've also chosen to..."

"Murder Snape."

"You've made mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes, but... but you're Sirius fucking Black, so your mistakes are just... on a larger scale."

"Such a fucking optimist," Sirius muttered again. "Lily, I've had every opportunity in the world to be a so-called 'good person.' I'm in Gryffindor. I have—I had loyal friends. I had my uncle and my cousin. I had the Potters. I'm smart and talented and good looking..."

"And humble."

"My point is," Sirius pressed on, "I've had every opportunity to turn out alright, and you can't just blame it on being a stupid teenager, because James—James is in the same boat I am, and he was the one rescuing Snape. You've got to admit that there's something fundamentally wrong with me."

He finished the cigarette and threw it into the fire. Lily was quiet for a long while.

"I have good news and bad news," she went on at length. "The good news is that there's nothing intrinsically wrong with you. You have a harder time at being good, that's all. And a lot of people have that, so there's the bad news. Just because your family is... fucked up, doesn't mean you've got an excuse to give up and do whatever the hell you want. You've got a responsibility to do the right thing, even if you don't want to and even if it's difficult. That's just all there is to it. You have a choice—you always have a choice."

"So," said Sirius, "I chose to kill Snape."

"Maybe," said Lily frankly. "You certainly chose to play a stupid prank. But Potter was there to clean up the mess. No one died. You aren't expelled. Remus isn't expelled or imprisoned. Dumbledore didn't even find out about... about the Animagus part. You have another chance, Sirius."

"Not unless they forgive me," the Marauder reminded her. "Not unless Lupin and James and even Peter can forgive and forget like you can, Evans, which is highly unlikely."

"I'm not saying it won't take time, Sirius, but... they'll forgive you. You're the... you're the bloody Marauders! You're practically girls, what with how close the four of you are."

Sirius smiled, a little more sincerely. "A fucking optimist."

"A realist," Lily corrected primly. She was about to say goodnight when she noticed a letter, addressed to Sirius, sitting on the table before them. "What's that?"

Sirius shrugged. "'Dunno. It's from the Ministry. I got it this morning, but I'm afraid to open it."

Lily shook her head and arose from the sofa. "You get some sleep."

"I'll try."

"Good."

She smiled tiredly and then disappeared up to the girls' dormitories. Sirius sat alone, staring into the fire for a long while. At length, he reached over and picked up the parchment envelope with its Ministry seal. Tearing it open, he read the first of two pages enclosed.

Dear Mr. Black,

Due to your current location at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you were unable to attend the reading of Alphard Black's will, which occurred on Friday, May the 21st. As executor of the will, I apologize for the delay in the reading, but there was some confusion over the location of the will. In any event, it is my duty to relay the following information to you, as a beneficiary of Mr. Black. Enclosed is a copy of the portion of the will pertaining directly to yourself. All funds mentioned will be transferred to the Gringotts vault listed by your uncle no later than Friday, May the 28th.

My sincerest condolences on the passing of your uncle, and please send an owl should you have any questions regarding Alphard's last requests.

Sincerely,

Edmond Prewett

Department of Magical Law-Enforcement

Sub-Department of Law

Committee for Magical Currency

The second page had a mark of a duplication charm in the corner, was dated for late March, and was written in Alphard Black's hand.

To my nephew, Sirius Orion Black, I leave the majority of my monetary funds to the amount of four-hundred seventy-five thousand galleons, to be paid to him on my death. With love and best wishes to my brave and worthy nephew.

---

Even if he hadn't known beyond a doubt that Sirius's bed was empty, James thought he would have been able to tell. He lay in his own bed, staring listlessly upward and reflecting that six years in the same dormitory had given him a strange familiarity with the typical nightly sounds. If he concentrated, James could isolate which of his roommates was snoring, which was breathing too loudly, which one made his bed squeak by rolling onto his side, and which usual addition to the nocturnal symphony was missing. It sounded—it felt—different. James had spent too many sleepless nights in this dormitory not to notice.

The clock on his bedside table claimed it was six minutes passed three o'clock; he had already tried reading, counting kneazles, his Herbology homework, and reliving his History of Magic O.W.L., and yet James simply could not sleep. All he wanted was to drift into unconsciousness as his roommates had done (even Remus managed to sleep, goddamn it), and yet his bed began to feel uncomfortable, and he thought the back of his neck was inordinately itchy.

If only he could get his mind to shut up, then the rest of his body might shut off all right. But he couldn't stop thinking, and he couldn't stop feeling awful.

Sirius. Yes, Sirius was there (in his brain) of course. Sirius betraying them, Sirius telling Snape, Sirius off the Quidditch team, Sirius out of the Marauders...

"He's going to go down there, get through the willow, see Moony, and—can you imagine?"

Reliving that night was bad enough, but the worst were the inevitable thoughts of what might have been... if he had been too late... if Remus had bitten Snape, or if he'd killed him...

For the past week, James had doubted a lot of things—his friendships... the Marauders... every prank he'd ever pulled... everything he had done with Sirius for the last six years... but he hadn't, not once, doubted the clarity he had come to immediately after that night. Not once had he second-guessed the fact that Sirius was—that Sirius had to be—out. Out of the Marauders, out of his family...

So why couldn't he sleep?

"Don't pretend that you would care one bit about Snape if it wasn't for her..."

James knew that wasn't true. But he also knew that he had felt an inexplicable need to prove that it wasn't true. And he'd been so angry with everything and everyone. He'd needed another target, and, Merlin help him, he'd meant everything (or almost everything) he'd said to Lily. Everything about Snape, anyway.

Still, he shouldn't have said it, and, regretting it as he lay there, James shifted onto his side and closed his eyes, willing himself to erase the memory.

Lily hated him now. She really, truly hated him, probably more than ever before. She'd thought he had changed (he hadn't, not really); she'd thought that maybe... but it didn't matter, did it? Sirius was out; he was no longer to be a key figure in James's life. Without hope of redemption, Sirius would drift on the periphery of James's consciousness, eventually giving up his attempts to be forgiven and then disappearing entirely. That (the thought) was unpleasant... painful, really. Almost as painful was the knowledge that he, James, had done the same thing. With regards to Lily, James knew that he, like Sirius to the Marauders, was out.

---

Lily didn't hate James.

At six minutes past three o'clock a.m., Lily acknowledged this fact. She didn't hate him. She just didn't.

She was still reasonably angry, of course, and she couldn't think of the incident without wincing, but she didn't hate him. At the same time, she recognized two inalienable truths.

First, that she would never be friends with James Potter.

It was impossible. For the last year, she had thought that maybe, somehow, they could be friends after a fashion. She had thought that possibly James was someone whose friendship she would not at the very least oppose. But that was before—now, they had fought, and he had said those things, and it had all been exposed like an ugly wound she had tried unsuccessfully to conceal with bandages.

There had always been taboo subjects in her interactions with James: Snape being one, and James's former (or, apparently, not so former) affections for her being another. But angrily and without regret, both of those subjects had been revealed and fleshed out, and they could not un-ring the bell. They had said everything—everything.

And so, the second truth:

With James, unfortunately, there was nothing left to say.

---

A/N: on that cheery note...

Please, please don't hate me for the Lily-James turmoil. I promise, the next chapter will start new and shipper-y things for them. Promise.

To the anonymous reviewers:

LEJP (gracias), Anon (Anon ftw—your review made me laugh out loud), Nix (Why thank-you, and that didn't sound mean; The next few chapters mark a serious turning point in the Lily-James relationship, which will increase their together-ness—proximity wise, at least—for the rest of the story), FoggyMoon (why thank-you; glad you enjoyed), Mire (gracias), Mia (thank-you; have a lovely summer yourself), Ahhreelmonsters (incidentally, love the penname, and thank-you; I love the Marauder bro-mance, so adding angst to that is a lot of fun for me), thatchesirecat (aww, thanks so much!), anonymous (thanks—yeah, I typically find James-tells-Lily-he's-a-stag scenes awkward, so I thought it would work better with Lily finding out on her own), and LIZZY (more Lily/James coming up, I promise. And can I just say that I love you for calling Charlie "Charles?" For real, I'm gonna have to use that).

This chapter was horrible for the friendships of this fic, and the next chapter will be both good and bad in that area. Two friendships will be/stay decidedly broken, one will be mended, one will sit in limbo, and one will evolve (form? Hmm...) with shipper implications. Other things to look forward to include flashbacks (lots of 'em), reasonably legit interaction between Shelley and James, and decisive info on what exactly went down between Marlene and Adam. Also, it's the last chapter of 6th year, so summer holidays are coming up... and that will be fun—especially if you're a Lily/James shipper, have ever fantasized about working in a pub, or love (love-to-hate) Carlotta. Oh snap.

Reviews are going to bed just after you shaved your legs, so the sheets feel way nice.

Love and cookies,

Jules