Chapter 2

The rest of the week passed in a relatively normal manner. Nothing much changed. James was preoccupied with his duties as Quidditch Captain, several rather poorly timed essays, and trying to keep the peace between his friends. Lily had Prefect duties, Charms Club, the same essays, and her own friends to attend to. If they occasionally shared a sympathetic look across the common room, or rolled their eyes at each other across a classroom, it was hardly noteworthy. Their conversation had taken place on a Tuesday morning. They did not speak again until Wednesday of the next week.


Lily shivered a little bit, pulling her sweater closer around her body. Walking around a cold castle in the deceitfully chilly month of May did have its down sides, but she wouldn't trade it for the world. Of course, that was because she knew where she was going. She was going where she always went when she needed time to think: a deserted old classroom on the fifth floor which no one cared about. She had her notebook tucked against her chest protectively, a quill and ink bottle in her bag along with her Ancient Runes and Charms homework. As was her usual habit, she fully planned to lose herself in her homework until she'd had time to come to terms with her own feelings, and then she would write everything down in her battered old notebook until she had nothing left to write. Or feel.

It was truly frightening, sometimes, Lily mused. Living in the wizarding world, that is. It was really hitting her hard this year just how much danger she was in. If she'd known, when she first came to Hogwarts, that being intelligent would earn her the attention of a crazed dark wizard, she wouldn't have tried so hard to do well. She wouldn't have worked so hard to fit in, to show everyone that she deserved to be there. Or maybe she would have anyways, just to spite them. She was a Gryffindor, after all!

Of course, her friends hadn't been any help in that regard. Lily couldn't stop a low, annoyed grunt from escaping her throat at the thought. It's not that her friends were bad people; in fact, they were very good people. She missed the carefree fun the three of them used to have – the inside jokes, the witty banter, the giggly gossip, the whispered word in class, passing silly notes, discussing all of the available boys in Hogwarts as if it were the most important discussion in the world. Of course, her dorm mates still carried on with said pleasures, but it didn't matter for them. They were purebloods. They were safe. Lily, however, was not. None of her friends had noticed the frightening looks she received from the Slytherins, the threatening notes that showed up in her textbooks and her post. They didn't notice how often she wrote her parents, now, or how she would devour the Daily Prophet every morning. They didn't notice anything. As much as she enjoyed spending time with them, there were some things that they just couldn't understand. Maybe that was unfair – they certainly were sympathetic, but how could they truly understand her fear? Especially when Lily did her damnedest to hide it? But sometimes, occasionally, Lily liked to think about it. She liked to muse and ponder and wonder and consider and sometimes even cry. But she could not do that in her dormitory. Not anymore.

Lily could feel the tears burning her eyes when she finally reached her destination. She breathed a sigh of relief as she pushed open the heavy wooden door to her private little room, eager to sprawl out on the benches that lined the amphitheatre-like classroom and let out the frustration, anger, and hurt that had been building up all week. She hadn't been able to come since last Tuesday, she was so busy with her responsibilities as prefect. A little Muggle born first year, Harriet Kinkade, had been having trouble getting adjusted this year, so Lily had been meeting with her since late September. Her cat had died this past week, and the poor girl had been in quite a state.

Lily stopped in her tracks just inside the threshold, stunned. There, sitting in her usual place on the benches, was James Potter. James Potter, pureblood. James Potter, Quidditch Captain. James Potter, Marauder. James Potter, who seemed to follow her everywhere. James Potter, whom she had confronted last week in the library about his friendship problems. He was sitting on her bench, his elbows on his knees, glasses in his hands, examining them thoughtfully in the warm light of the setting sun dancing in through the tall, stained-glass windows at the front of the room. He looked so serious, his countenance grim and worried, his brow furrowed in concern. He looked up at her, then, and squinted. He hastily shoved his glasses back onto his nose and looked again. Once he recognized her, he opened his mouth to say something … then shut it again. He repeated this ridiculous motion several more times, not making a sound.

Though amazed to see this rather new, alarmingly serious side of James Potter, Lily tried not to show her shock or her insecurity at being caught in a similarly emotional state. Instead, she walked over to him as calmly as she could and sat down beside him as though it wasn't a big deal at all. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest, but she got the feeling that he needed a friend right now. And frankly, so did she.

"I see that you've managed to find my hiding place," she broke the silence, giving him a weak smile. "I always seem to run into you."

"I-" James stuttered, his cheeks going pink, "I knew you spent a lot of time here. Figured I'd see what the fuss was about."

Lily's eyebrows rose speculatively, wondering how he knew such a thing and knowing that it should bother her a lot more than it did. There were probably a lot of things she knew about James which she shouldn't know; it was just how their relationship (if you could call it that) worked. "Not much fuss, really. Just a place to get away and think, somewhere no one will look for me. How do you like it?"

"It's perfect," he said without thinking. His face was tinted orange in the funny light, and Lily could see shades of purple and green dancing over her lap. It really was the most perfect thinking spot in the castle. He shot her a sideways glance nervously. "I needed to … think. I hope I didn't intrude. I – you normally don't come on Wednesday nights. You usually go to the library instead."

Again, Lily was surprised. How did he know that? Really, James Potter did seem to have a rather unnatural curiosity concerning her. There were certain things one would expect to know about someone after living and studying with them for six years, but that was not one of them.

"You're right. I do," she replied carefully, a little bit shaken. Had she become so predictable? "But I don't mind sharing tonight. You've had a lot on your mind lately. No improvements with Sirius and Remus?"

James sighed heavily and shook his head.

"I'm so sorry," she said sympathetically. "It must be horribly stressful for you, especially with summer holidays just around the corner."

James gave her a sad attempt at a grin. "It is. I can't … I can't even think straight anymore. Like I told you the other day, Sirius and Remus are barely speaking, and when they are it's never pleasant. Peter's too frightened of them both to even try to interfere, so I'm playing referee and trying to sort it all out, but they're all too bloody stubborn!" He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, frowning seriously. "Ravenclaw's seeker is really good this year, and no one on the team even seems to give a damn anymore even though the match is this weekend and determines our chances for the cup this year. I can't concentrate in class; hell, you must've seen me. This week has been a disaster. That horrible scene in Defence, and then the Potions incident… You always seem so much more relaxed after you come here, so I figured I'd try it out."

Lily nodded understandingly. It had been a bad week for him. In Defence on Monday, he'd been caught in the crossfire when Sirius and Remus had been fighting, and Potions … well, let's just say that Slughorn was duly impressed with the destructive capabilities of James' antidote, and everyone in the classroom took a quick field trip to the hospital wing, including one furious Severus Snape.

The two sat in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. A draft caused the candles to flicker momentarily, throwing shadows all about the room. The sun had set moments ago, and the waning moon was visible from the windows that lined one side of the room.

"I've spilled my guts," James finally said, breaking the silence. "What are you doing here tonight?"

"Charms Club was cancelled," Lily replied. "Penny Dawson's family was attacked this morning."

Understanding shone from James' eyes from behind his round glasses. Penny Dawson, chair of the Charms Club, was a Muggleborn.

"Are you scared?" he asked quietly, as though he wasn't sure he had the right to know. Lily looked at him, wondering if she dared be so honest with the biggest prankster in school. However, knowing how honest he'd been with her not only this evening but also the other week in the library gave her confidence; if he could trust her with his secrets, then surely she could trust him with the same.

"All the time," she admitted at last, tears firing up behind her eyes as she spoke it out loud for the first time ever. Strangely enough, no one had ever asked her that before. "I'm afraid that my family will be next, and that I'll be their next target. All those looks and notes I've been getting will culminate eventually, and I don't know what I'll do. I can't protect my parents. My sister wouldn't let me protect her, even if I could. And those Slytherins know the Dark Arts backwards and forwards ..."

Lily shivered just thinking about what they could do to her if they really wanted. She knew she was a talented witch; she could throw hexes with the best of them. But she also knew that if she had to face down more than one Slytherin at a time, she'd be done for. She couldn't match their extensive knowledge, wouldn't want to even if she could.

"Hold on!" James exclaimed suddenly, sitting up straighter. "Did you say notes? What notes?"

Lily shrugged. "I don't know. Notes?"

"From who? What do they say?"

"I don't know who they're from. They're unsigned. Not original, and certainly not as intimidating or clever as they'd like them to be. And they say the same sort of things the Slytherins are always spouting off about: how I don't deserve to be here, I'm not good for anything, I'm a drain on society, I don't deserve to live, my time is running short, and so on, and so forth."

A frightening gleam appeared in James' eyes. "Do you still have those notes?"

"No, I burn them all as soon as I get them. Why?"

James looked a little disappointed. "My dad's an Auror. He showed me some stuff about tracking letters back to their senders, and analysing threats like that. Let me know the next time you get a letter like that; we may be able to stop them."

"You don't have to do that," Lily protested, blushing.

"Yes, I do," he replied simply. "Look, Lily, you're not alone in this, okay? If you have a problem, there are tons of people who would help you, including me. Every decent wizard knows that blood line doesn't matter. If somebody's bothering you, let me help you. Or at least let somebody help you. You shouldn't have to put up with that rubbish from anybody. Ever."

Lily stared at James for a minute in amazement. His eyes were bright with passion, and she could tell that he meant it. Maybe … maybe someone did notice. Maybe there was someone who cared, even someone like the pureblood Quidditch captain James Potter.

"I – thank you," she answered. He smiled at her and leaned back on the bench behind them comfortably. He seemed to be evaluating her, examining her carefully.

"You know," he began again, meeting her eyes and not letting her look away, "I like this. Us. Talking. Being friendly. It suits us, I think. My friends are at odds, and I know your friends are busy. What do you say we be friends, Lily? I think we'd be great friends, you and me. Then we can always talk like this, rather than bickering all the time. What d'you think? Want to give this arrogant bullying toe-rag a chance to prove himself?"

Lily blushed at having her words thrown back at her, however lightly they were said. She hadn't thought that he would remember what she said, and yet somehow … she wasn't surprised. How many of his nonchalant words had she memorized? Gathering up her courage, she held out her hand.

"Friends?"

"Friends," he repeated. A grin broke onto his face, causing Lily to smile as well. "So, friend, what did you bring with you?"

Lily and James stayed in that abandoned old classroom for a couple more hours, testing out their newfound friendship. They actually got along surprisingly well, all things considered. Lily finished her homework, giving James a brief explanation of Runes as she did so, and also managed to explain to him what had gone wrong with his antidote. He'd looked curiously at her notebook several times, but he didn't ask, much to Lily's relief. She liked being friends with him, but she didn't know that she was ready to bare all of her secrets just yet.


Friday night found Lily curled up in one corner of the couch in the common room, Nicholas Nickleby in her hands. It was her favourite Dickens book, had been ever since she read it in third year. Now, three years later, it had become something of a comfort book for her. She really shouldn't be reading it; she had promised to finish Sense and Sensibility by the end of the school year. Really, though, her classical reading list could be postponed a little. After all, this was Dickens.

She was vaguely aware of other Gryffindor students wandering around the common room. From the sounds she heard, she gathered that there was a group of boys playing Exploding Snap, some others trading Chocolate Frog cards, and a rather moody group of fifth years trying to study for their O. W. L. s. She should probably be studying as well, actually, but … frankly, there were times when Lily was just sick of studying. She was fairly confident that she would do well on her sixth year exams, so she figured she could relax for an hour … or twenty. Seriously though, it was Friday night.

"Who's Charles Dickens?"

Lily jumped a little, startled to be addressed after nearly two hours of solid silence. She peered over her book and smiled up at James Potter, who stood before her with his hands shoved deeply within his pockets and an interested expression on his face. The firelight threw a funny shadow on his face, making half of his spectacles opaque, and making Lily's lips twitch in amusement.

"You've never heard of Charles Dickens?" Lily questioned, shocked for a moment. "Oh! I'd forgotten; of course you haven't heard of him, you're a wizard. He's a very famous Muggle author. My personal favourite, actually."

"Yeah?" James perched himself on the end table beside her. "Why?"

Lily paused here, thinking deeply. Why was Dickens her favourite?

"You know what? I don't really know. He's always been my favourite," she admitted honestly, thinking back. "My dad loves reading as much as I do. When we were little, he would always read to us from Dickens before bed. Oliver Twist, A Christmas Carol, David Copperfield, Great Expectations. I suppose it's because it's so familiar."

James grinned widely. "My dad's a reader, too, though I reckon it's a different sort of literature than you're used to. Ever heard of Duncan Healey?" When Lily shook her head, he continued, "He's written some really great novels, like Turning Time, The Black Unicorn, Ferrin Reed, etcetera, etcetera. Most of them are adventure sort of stories; they got me hooked on reading, too."

He looked a little sheepish at this confession, pushing his hand through his hair nervously. "So what's this Nicholas book about?"

Lily looked at him thoughtfully. "Why don't you borrow it? I'm actually in the middle of another book right now; I'm kind of cheating, reading Nicholas Nickleby on the side."

James seemed surprised, but happily so, and took the book carefully, examining the cover earnestly. "Really? Thanks."

"No problem," she smiled, inwardly wondering when it had become so easy to talk to him. This didn't seem like the James Potter she had grown accustomed to over the past six years, and it unnerved her a little bit. Still, it was a welcome change, although it may have come at much too high of a cost. One friendship gained for three friendships lost; somehow it didn't seem like a fair trade.

"Do you play chess?" James asked out of the blue, surprising her yet again.

"Um … well, I used to. I haven't played in years; I don't think I really remember all the rules."

"Play me? I'll re-teach you, and I promise my pieces will be nice to you," he pleaded playfully, his eyes sparkling and his lips quirking. "In fact, they'll probably be nicer to you than they are to me. I only ever play against Peter any more, and he's ridiculously talented at chess. He beats me pretty soundly every time."

Lily laughed and gave her agreement. James beamed and pulled his set out of his pocket, enlarging it for them to use. He pulled the end table between them to put the set on and dragged an overstuffed armchair to the opposite side, settling in to remind Lily of how to play chess, particularly with magical pieces. She admitted, a little reluctantly, that chess was yet another thing she had done with her father, but one that she hadn't quite enjoyed as much as reading. She'd never had the patience for it. James just chuckled and admitted that he had the same problem, but he hated Exploding Snap (shocking!) and he absolutely despised gobstones, so chess was usually his game of choice, if only by process of elimination.

The two Gryffindors spent more than an hour in the corner of the common room playing chess together. Neither really noticed the time, so absorbed in their game were they. They both were concentrating intently. James would habitually tap his glasses while he was thinking, or bounce his knee impatiently while he waited for Lily to move. Lily, on the other hand, tended to think while chewing on her lip, and she would always shift uncomfortably while she waited for James to make a decision. One second she would cross her legs, then she would cross them the other way, then she tuck her knees beneath her, then she would hug them to her chest before repeating the entire thing all over again. They didn't speak too often; usually only when Lily had a question about the rules.

Somehow, though, the time flew by, and they were still at it when the clock struck eleven, heralding curfew and the entrance of several winded students. One of these late-comers was one Sirius Black, who meandered into the common room looking as regal as ever, even with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and dirt on his hands from his detention. He casually scanned the common room, and his eyebrows shot up when he noticed James and Lily playing chess in the corner. A slow smirk stole across his face, and he hurried up to the boys' dormitories with a twinkle in his eye. He pulled Peter off of his bed and Remus away from his toothbrush without any explanation and dragged them down the stairs. He stopped at the foot of the stairs and pointed wordlessly at the corner, a genuine grin stretched across his face. Peter's jaw dropped, and Remus smiled broadly. For a moment, they shared pleased expressions, all tension dropped in their happiness for their friend.

Unfortunately, the moment did not last. Remus' smile faded into a straight, firm line, and he stalked stiffly up the stairs again. Peter shifted his feet uncomfortably, shrugged at Sirius, gave him a small thumbs-up, and followed Remus. Sirius was left at the bottom of the stairs, alone, with a disheartened scowl on his face and the seed of jealousy planted in his chest.

Blissfully oblivious to this small side-drama, James and Lily shared playful glares over the chessboard over a move James had just made. Lily wrinkled her nose, James stuck out his tongue.

Sirius went to bed.


It was a small change, really. Only a subtle shift in the interactions of two sixth-year Gryffindor students, but somehow it changed everything. While Lily and James had never been terrible to each other (except for a few incidents which we will not mention here), they'd never been particularly friendly either, and their new friendship drew many a surprised smile and raised eyebrow throughout the next week as Hogwarts became accustomed to seeing the pair meeting in a friendly capacity.

They shared smiles across the Hall during meals, sometimes even an amiable nod. They spoke civilly in classes, and sometimes even joked with each other! When they ran into each other in the hallway or the library, they chatted quite amicably about classes, Quidditch, Hogwarts gossip, and books. Occasionally they even spent time together in the common room, writing essays or playing chess. Dare to believe it, but they were actually acting rather like … normal friends.

Mary, Cynthia, Geraldine, and Gertrude were the other sixth-year Gryffindor girls. Cynthia, Geraldine, and Gertrude all came from long lines of pureblood families, all claiming connections respectively to the Peverells, Prewetts, and Blacks. Mary, although half-blood, was connected through her mother's side to the Ollivanders, a connection of such prestige as to nearly blot out the ignominy of her bloodline.

Having witnessed first-hand the carefully drawn line of combat between Lily and James over the past six years, her friends were delighted to see the two finally learning how to be friends. They all had known James for years, and they had been trying to persuade Lily to be friends with him since first year. They never understood her friendship with Snape, nor why that should preclude friendship with James. Now that she and James were finally developing a friendship, they seemed to take unprecedented pleasure in gloating over the fact that they had been right all along. Lily, knowing that they had not been right all along, had very little patience for such sentiments. Yes, her friendship with Snape had fallen apart. No, she did not regret hanging on to that friendship for as long as she did. Yes, she had finally become friends with James Potter. There was no way, however, that she could have been friends with him in the past five years – not with his behaviour, not with the bitter chords of hatred between him and her former best friend. Circumstances had changed, people had changed, and Lily could not regret it. But that did not mean that she wanted to hear their proud exulting every time she so much as looked at James Potter.

With their pride getting the better of them, Lily found herself seeking the solace of the abandoned fifth floor classroom more and more as the semester continued. Once James realized this, he began to join her as often as Quidditch practice allowed. Every evening (except when Lily had Charms Club or Prefect meetings, or James had Quidditch) they would meet on the fifth floor with their assignments and work for a few solid hours, chatting all the while about anything and everything. They extrapolated upon their family situations with immediate ease and gamboled carelessly through the subjects of likes and dislikes. They meandered through their philosophies and beliefs, and both dwelled upon the war for more time than they, perhaps, ought to have done for two seventeen-year-old students.

Lily kept receiving threatening notes; although she gave them to James, he had been unable to trace them back to the sender. Frustrated and concerned, he had sent a letter asking his father for help. While his father agreed that it was certainly serious and should be dealt with, he confessed that he would not be able to get up to Hogwarts due to the overload at the Ministry already. However, he asked that Lily save as many as she could and not allow them to touch the hands of anyone else. When he picked up James at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, he would perform a few spells at the station and then take them home for further study if necessary.

Although glad to have a plan, James found himself frustrated with his inability to help. He began to watch Lily at breakfast when the post came in until he saw the little smile and nod that meant it was just a letter from her family or until he saw the hardened eyes and the stiff shoulders that meant it was another threat. He began to wander away from his favorite Transfiguration section of the library and make his way further and further into the Defense Against the Dark Arts section, looking for answers. Not being able to do anything to fix this problem was driving him crazy; he couldn't let it rest until he knew what to do about it. Besides, it gave him something to think about aside from the fact that his friends weren't speaking to each other.

In point of fact, spending time with Lily had generally given him quite a lot more to think about aside from his friends. Finally getting to know Lily, after so many years of watching from afar, was like finally being invited to sit down to the feast which you had been smelling cooking in the kitchen all day. Finally, he was seeing the parts of her which he had known were there but was never privileged enough to experience. And, honestly, even more than he had expected. He'd had no idea, based on her public composure and happy mien, that she was so concerned about the war against Muggleborns. (It had always worried him how little she seemed to care about it, although he now realized that she simply did not like to bare her private fears in the public eye.) Nor had he any idea that she felt any sort of tension with her friends – from the outside, they were the perfect gaggle of giggling, happy girls, terrifying to any admiring male trying to work up the nerve to speak to one or all of them. He'd never known that Lily had a Muggle sister at home. She was stronger, and sadder, than he had expected.

It seemed like they were barely getting started on their friendship before it was time to go home. James realized this one evening during exam week as they sat across the chess board from each other, each quietly pondering their next move – both in real life, and in chess. With summer so readily at hand, each had their own plans. Lily, as always, was planning to return home to her parents and her sister. She had been earning pocket money during the summers by working at a local antique shop owned by a sweet, elderly gentleman that was perfectly enamoured of her. It was a lucky break, because it kept her busy enough that she didn't have to think too much about how she no longer had any real friends in her neighbourhood. James, as always, was planning to spend the summer practicing Quidditch and tagging along to as many days in the Auror office as his father would allow. There was enough going on in that office that he was usually allowed to come in two to four days per week, if only to help push the paperwork through the system.

"Lily," James said at last, breaking the thoughtful mood. "Could I write to you this summer?"

Lily, surprised that he had bothered to ask a question which, in her mind, was a given, said "Of course! I certainly hope you do! I feel like I never have enough news from the wizarding world!"

James grinned, nudging his knight to move to his chosen space. "Excellent. If you want to practice spells or anything this summer, you know you'd be more than welcome at my place. You won't have to worry about any Muggles seeing, and I'd be happy to work on dueling with you."

Lily smiled back, acknowledging the trust involved in such an offer. These days, being invited to another's home was a rare privilege – people did not take chances with their homes. Not in these times.

"Thanks," Lily said sincerely. "I'll try to take you up on that. It'd be nice."

"Yeah. It really would."

For the rest of the evening, both students could hardly keep themselves from smiling.