YOU-KNOW-WHO'S GROWING POWER BUILDS PANIC AND DEATH

YOU-KNOW-WHO GAINS THREE MORE ASSUMED INNER-CIRCLE FOLLOWERS AS DEATH EATERS SIGHTINGS SPREAD TO INCLUDE THE WHOLE OF UNITED KINGDOM

Lily didn't particularly feel like reading the rest of the article. It wasn't as though it had anything new in it. She didn't think the Daily Prophet did much more than change a few names here and there each week anymore, and their general shortage in colorful wording was starting to show. She was depressed enough as it was.

She dropped it on her desk and then dropped herself on top of her bed, mentally willing someone, anyone (she'd even take Potter), to do something that demanded her full attention elsewhere. Hopefully elsewhen, too. She shut her eyes.

She wanted to forget the monochromatic letters, wanted to forget the paper they were printed on, Merlin, if she could forget the desk it was lying on, that'd be great. She'd actually not mind forgetting the whole world, and the people in it, because clearly they weren't worth remembering.

It was bad enough that these things were happening, and it was worse that she couldn't tell her family. Worst of all, however, (because there was still a category above those other two), was not telling them when they were part of those who were in danger. And the fact that that choice was hers was even in a category of its own over those other three.

It didn't matter. Obviously she didn't think it was best that they knew anyway, otherwise she'd have told them already. It hadn't reached them at all, so it wasn't a problem (she tried hard to pretend the word yet hadn't crossed her mind). Other than the fact that she felt exhausted at ten o'clock in the morning, everything was fine. Fine.

"Hey, Evans!" Except for that.

So tired. Such a headache. Please.

"Evans!" The voice was getting louder. "You know, the faster you answer, the faster I'll leave you alone." He suggested, exasperated.

"Yeah." She muttered to the pillow. "In roughly four hours, when you're satisfied with the ruins that used to be my neighborhood." She completely regretted her 'even Potter' comment. She wouldn't take him. Karma had to understand.

"Evans!" Now it wasn't just louder, it was more irritated. "I will go up there!"

No matter the annoyance getting up would prove to be, it was considerably preferable to Potter getting even remotely near her bedroom.

Lily threw the window violently open. He probably ought to know she was far from a good mood, if he wanted to be a pain in the arse. "What?"

He didn't look amused – he wasn't smirking, anyway – so she relaxed. Marginally. He actually didn't seem happy about whatever it was Lily was preventing him from talking about. That also didn't mean he didn't look good, which was information she stored away like she usually did, because she liked her sanity, yeah?

"Did you read the newspaper this morning?" He demanded. Her face fell as he brought up the one thing she was counting on him distracting her from. The one thing he might actually prove useful in doing. "I figured. You want to keep shouting through the window, or shall I go up and prevent the neighbors thinking you to be a mad woman?"

"I'm pretty sure they don't need to hear me shouting at the street to think that." She muttered, shutting the window and walking down the stairs anyway.

James walked straight in with that familiarity she didn't remember offering him. She actually didn't remember offering him much, like her address, for example. It was the only invitation he seemed to need to make his visits, which she didn't particularly want, hence the whole not-offering-him-her-address thing. Since he hadn't told her how he had it the first ten times he'd dropped by for a surprise visit she didn't answer the door for, she didn't figure her luck lay with the twentieth. Thankfully, she'd be leaving on vacation the next day, and there was no way he had the address to that.

She hoped.

Having a stalker wasn't all that glamorous. Having a good-looking git for a stalker just made it worse.

Unruly hair, grin that would surely lead to laugh lines in due time, expensive clothes, he radiated easy-going (Lily had never really gotten along with that) – and also arrogance, which was the part she really couldn't stand. Potter had made a bad impression the first day she'd laid eyes on him. Truthfully, not the first minutes, but she was storming out of the compartment they were sharing within the hour, so he couldn't get that much praise.

Her problem with him was mostly that, while he wasn't prejudiced against much, Slytherins got his immediate disdain (and his immediate curses) – she didn't even really get why. It didn't help that her best friend was (had been) a Slytherin. Nor that, not two years later, it'd suddenly downed on him that she was both a girl and not falling at his feet.

She wouldn't say it went downhill from there, because it had been downhill from the beginning, but that was really when the slide had gotten sharper.

The years went by, and James hadn't gotten any less appealing – or high on top of the mountain, which served as a cooler for any other part or aspect of his that might or not be smoking. He was probably the most liked person at the school. No one seemed to understand why she was so snappish toward him, especially after what Snape ended up doing. No girl seemed to understand, either, why she wouldn't go out with him, because they all melted every time the common room became a Valentine's card featuring her, or when he made the entire Great Hall watch a magnified version of himself sing why he'd die for her, and they didn't get why she didn't too. None of them seemed to understand why none of these grand gestures didn't seem to do anything for her, no one seemed to understand why they didn't mean a thing. Because, not only were they too big to be true, but for every single one of them, there were three occasions where Snape was found unconscious and in his underwear, hanging limp over the lake with the Giant Squid, or spontaneously started to grow mushrooms in areas where nothing of the kind should be growing, or got into a good old-fashioned duel with one (or all four) of the Marauders. She was completely alone in disliking him. Except for the Slytherins. It didn't comfort her to know that that was her company.

Lily would like to establish that that was not the reason she suddenly started tolerating him (although most certainly not to the point of house calls). Even if it helped. Because tolerating him was the extent of her regard to the prick. The black, shiny-haired prick. Bad Lily!

He went straight to her living room, and she wasn't sure if he was stupidly brave or just stupid. It scared her that he seemed to pick the exact moments her parents weren't home – maybe more than it scared her that he knew where her living room was. It also made her mad, but while she was fairly certain he was aware of the second (Lord knew she yelled it at him enough), the first was actually something he was perfectly fine not knowing.

She mused on her parents for a little while. Potter was tall, handsome, charming and smart enough when he didn't play dumb (those were also a whole lot of somethings he was just fine not even guessing). He knew how to act like a Muggle, he was outwardly nice and he had table manners. Her parents would love him visiting. That was mostly the reason she didn't complain their absence when he did.

Lily complained a bit too much about him, she knew. Didn't it sound nice, to have a cute guy so obsessed about you he asked you out once every full moon (and a couple more times every other one) and visited you in the summer completely unannounced and unwanted?

That might actually not sound nice, though.

It was sad that it was the war that made her get some kind of perspective. That, or it just made her depressed enough to exhaust her. Either way, her arguments with him were a lot less fiery and a lot wittier. (Which was good, she guessed, because being depressed was a cause to a lot more consequences than being more tired than she should be.) It was pointless to be fighting him, when she knew that he had, at least, a decent code of morals - her own - and that, just as she planned to fight, so did he. (The fact that she wasn't surprised at that should have been her first clue.) She didn't know what it was, between him, his friends and the Slytherins, but he was serenely and almost carelessly certain of his future against Voldemort.

It made her a little uneasy, but not enough yet. Not enough for her to keep thinking about it.

He watched as he made himself confortable, dropping his broom (she really hoped he hadn't flown that all the way to her door – carrying a broom around in the street was weird enough) on the couch. Her couch. Her living room. Her house. In case none of that was clear.

"You know, this was cute when-" She paused. "I forget my point."

"Ha." He said, drying his word to the point she wanted water. "Adorable, but I think what I got here might interest you to the point of being memorable." He waved a piece of (frightfully) ordinary parchment tantalizingly. She wondered if she was supposed to know what it was, and then decided it was either explosive or a reason for her to prolong the conversation much further than she wanted to.

She wasn't feeling like being baited. "That's wonderful, Potter, but I think we both agreed you'd stop drawing pictures of me during second grade-"

"Funny," Potter said, though his cheeks seemed a little pinker than usual. "but that was more of an ultimatum on your part than a mutual decision."

"Yes. Otherwise you might actually still be drawing them. Honestly, you should be thanking me for the little reputation you have."

"Can we talk about this now?" He asked irritably, slapping the parchment on her table in her kitchen, a division in her house. He didn't use to get irritated (except when it involved Snape and her) before Hogsmeade had been invaded by a group of Death Eaters and there was nobody but students to take care of it.

"Can I know why you've been popping up at my house whenever you please since the term ended? As in, what, in the name of all that's Holy are you doing here?"

"No. I love being a mystery for you to solve."

"Wonderful. Fancy seeing you, then."

"Here." He unfolded it, exasperated, and, apparently, deciding to abandon stupid, which was a little surprising. Whether it was because refusing to look was more than a bit childish or because of his emphatic movements, she glanced. And then she was right beside him, greedily taking it all in with wide eyes.

"How-?" She sputtered.

He grinned broadly, clearly relishing her reaction and her closeness. She didn't correct it. "I work in mysterious ways."

"How?" She asked more firmly, tearing her eyes away from the map.

He deflated. "It was an Arithmancy algorithm. You take all the fun out of things." He grumbled, making to put it away again. She stopped him. She didn't let her hand linger on his arm any longer than necessary, or at least that's what she told herself.

Then she turned her attention to the map that depicted every town hitherto hit by Death Eaters – and then predictions for the next two months. It seemed perfectly legitimate – she had a map herself, but hers only went as far as past attacks. What she hadn't done, however, was find a pattern, which James clearly had. It even had margin for error – there were red dots flagging, like little spots of blood, the probable targets, and then pink areas of tense possibilities. It was mad. There was no way James-

Every single one of the Marauders' pranks came to her head then, all rushing to see who managed to prove her wrong first (much like Potter himself). One in particular managed to convince her quite well - one which she'd had the power to prevent, but hadn't, and certainly not because she hadn't been an uptight brat (at least Potter and Black had been bullying, arrogant prats, which seemed worse to her). It was the last class of First Year Transfiguration, and even Professor McGonagall was being lenient. There was an unusual amount of noise which didn't seem to be bothering her – she'd told them to practice any spells they wanted, as long as they were related to her class. James and Sirius had immediately taken advantage of this and began trying to get Peter to volunteer to be the subject of a seventh year spell in a page titled 'Materialization of your Quintessence' that they swore they could manage. When Peter looked as though he might actually do it (James and Sirius had convinced him with their (truthful) statement that they were O-students at this particular subject), Remus intervened, which stopped Lily from doing the same.

This, however, left her ears open for whatever they were saying – Lily had never been particularly trusting - and for what they began discussing next: an end-of-year prank. As if that wasn't a horrifying prospect on its own, they described next an elaborated plan involving Switching Spells, the Levitation and Incendio charms, a replicating charm she'd never heard of (something that made her incredibly jealous) and a simple Transfiguration spell. The only thing that appeased her was the fact that it sounded ridiculously impossible. That only made all the more ego-crushing when, during the end of year feast, the food somehow turned back into the plants and animals it had once been (though the Marauders and Lily, due to her eavesdropping, knew these had actually been flown all the way from the forest to the alcove near the Great Hall, where the actual food would have replaced it until someone went to investigate the smell), and every single unoccupied stretch of wall became graffiti-ed with Muggle wildlife protection mottos, which Filch couldn't get off afterwards because what he was trying to wash was Transfigured wall, and McGonagall took her time in explaining (she was quite proud of her first year students' work, even if she daren't admit that to another soul). And then when she spoke the word 'Transfiguration' right in front of the defaced walls, they burst into fire, which was meant to be the Marauders' way of cleaning up after themselves; only it had so far backfired due to Filch's inability to willingly talk about anything magic, which made him work much more than he had to.

So maybe there was way.

Still, principle dictated she stare at him with her eyebrows raised in disbelief until he explained further. "Okay, Remus dealt with the algorithm." He admitted with a grin.

"This is-" She was speechless, she was woman enough to admit, even if it only seemed to make James puff up as she gestured at the map in awe.

"I know." He smiled proudly. "They fell into a pattern eventually. The human mind can only stand random for so long. Still, once in a while there's a couple of mad turns, which I'm fairly sure are Lestrange's fault, but we included those in the calculations."

"You almost sound smart." She said wonderingly. He made a face at her, successfully proving her wrong. She narrowed her eyes. "Question is, why are you telling me this?"

He hesitated – she could see it, the way his fingers fumbled a second or two on the parchment, the way he made long, tense work of tucking it into itself, the way his eyes flickered to hers behind his askew glasses, and she instantly had a very, very bad feeling.

The war wasn't a new topic. Not to her, not to any other wizard or witch, may they be supporters of whoever or whoever-else (she quite forgot who, exactly, was supposed to be the main face of their side – even if she were inclined to say Dumbledore, it wasn't like it was any sort of organized movement except for a bunch of kids barely out of school and a handful of teachers). It'd been going on for almost as long as she remembered being an – admittedly sidelined - active part of the Wizarding World. It was also the reason for the sidelined status. It had grown, in her Hogwarts time, from a madman with a wand to a calculated psychopath with a group of followers to a Grindelwald kind of problem and then past that. Far past that.

To her, Voldemort stood at a crossroads. Only it wasn't really a crossroads, because though she had two choices, she really only had one. She was involved no matter what – her 'kind' was what it was all about, the whole root – so she could either walk up to the madman and ask for her death, or she could walk up to the madman and demand his; using her wand and anything else she could get her hands on, because, realistically, if she didn't stand a chance anyway, it was stupid to narrow her resources. Maybe that was why fighting with James wasn't really fighting anymore. Maybe. That maybe really had no business being there.

To James, though, Voldemort was nothing other than a moral paradox. What he was doing was bad, and evil, but what had a seventeen-year-old anything to do with it? He was pureblood. He could perfectly stand quietly aside. Instead, he decided to jump into all the mess and the paradoxes and be dumb and make a loud target of himself. She didn't care to admit that it brought up a little bit of respect she didn't know she was capable of having for him.

And she did have it. Right up until he said doing something as stupid as "I thought I might interest you in a field trip to the location of the next predicted attack. At the time of the next predicted attack. In the esteemed company of the Marauders." He added as an afterthought.

She let the silence reign for a beat or two.

"Are you quite mad?"

"See, that's exactly what Sirius said you'd say!" He whined. "Must you prove him right?!"

"Oh, shut up!" Lily fumed, wondering how anyone could be this thick. "Let me get this right: you purposefully want to go somewhere you know Voldemort will be, at the time he's supposed to be there? Where was Remus when you and Black came up with this master plan?!"

"Right there." Potter answered immediately, joining his broom in making himself confortable on her couch. It briefly occurred to her that her family really shouldn't be long, but she was too mad to focus on it. "Making the exact same speech you are, only he added 'with no one to help', until Sirius used Silencio on him. I think Peter didn't know who to back." He frowned for a moment. Then he brightened. "Besides, he isn't in all of the attacks, is he? Sometimes he stays in the background. Maybe he won't be there, and it'll be just seeing Bellatrix dog-face and getting hit by Malfoy's greasy hair that I'll have to worry about." He actually sounded disappointed saying this.

"You want to meet him?"

He shifted uncomfortably."'Course not. 'Cause that would be crazy, and reckless, and you know me, I'm all about rules, and precaution, and better safe than sorry-"

Lily just stared at him, half wondering where he was trying to go by vomiting every word Remus had ever taught him, half sure he'd just opened his mouth, went along with it, and now he was having trouble closing it.

He broke after approximately three more seconds of inane rambling. He sounded agitated – funny, because, approximately a year ago, she'd have thought him incapable of such a nervous thing. "I- I don't know. A part of me kind of wants to know what the bloody hell runs through the bloke's mind sometimes." He ran a hand through his hair. She tried not to stare and stayed silent, crossing her arms and joining him on the couch. "Another part of me doesn't care, and just wants to bash his head in, solve the problem." He shrugged. "I can't do either if I don't meet him in some capacity. Anyway, we're all seventeen, aren't we? We're legal adults. We can make our own choices. Personally, I rather fancy going, see if I can really take a shot at him. You only live once, right?" He grinned. It was the stupidest smile she'd ever seen, even if it made her a little weak in the knees.

"James," She said, her voice a little shaky, because he was really scaring her right then. "I-You-" She shook her head, trying to clear it. "You're off your rocker." She said, fiercely. "Completely off your rocker. And you need to listen to Remus."

He nodded. "Usually, when someone tells me I'm off my rocker, that is what I do. But, see, I already know his opinion, and he's against the idea, so it's not really a good plan. He might convince me not to do it."

"I know!" She said, exasperated. "And, honestly, you haven't even finished school!"

"So?" He asked, rather defensively. She suddenly wondered why she was having an almost civil (or the equivalent, when it came to her and James) discussion with Potter, in her home, which she hadn't invited him into, in the middle of the summer, which was supposed to be her Potter-free time, about how it wasn't very sensible of him to seek death at the hands of Britain's latest sophisticated serial killer. What right, exactly, had she to tell him these things, give him advice, be concerned about his well-being to the point of arguing with him?

The thought fled and she kept going. "You- You're barely legal!"

"You know, what I hear when you say that is that I am legal. And so are you, and no one can tell either of us what to do. We can make our own choices. Do you want to come with me?" He asked, and in his determined tone of voice Lily felt her argument wither, and she had no idea why. She'd never had a problem arguing with him before. Then again, all their previous arguments had generally been about when she'd never go out with him. Well, the end of his tirade almost could be part of one of those.

"Well, that's what no little girl's father ever wants to hear."

When had the door opened and closed? Lily didn't remember the door opening or closing. She was almost positive the door hadn't opened and closed. So if the door hadn't opened or closed, her parents, who could use no form or shape of magical transportation whatsoever, shouldn't have come in and heard that. Because the door hadn't opened and closed.

Still, they were standing there, arms crossed, raised eyebrows, clearly pretending they weren't dying inside from all the laughter they were keeping in, and they were not helping.

She was faintly aware that her argument had left her rather closer to Potter than she ever wanted to be, and while that was all well and good at Hogwarts where nobody thought twice of seeing Lily and James like that because obviously they were arguing (she thought, anyway), that wasn't really good in front of her parents. Especially not after Potter decided to deliver an aggravatingly ambiguous line with an intensity and graveness she did not want her parents listening to because it could be entirely misinterpreted. His low voice wouldn't help her argument explanation (real explanation) either.

"Nothing." She stood up quickly, trying to convey breeziness and total lack of concern, but really just hoping her cheeks weren't looking that much like her hair. Potter looked amused, because he always looked amused and there were no pillows to throw so she could hide it. "P- James was just-"

"Trying a new way of verbalizing my affections for your lovely daughter." He smiled that charming smile he could mass produce. "It's been nearly four years, I'm bound to get it right eventually. She still won't give me one date." He added morosely.

Lily tried to pretend she didn't want that pillow. "Yes. He was. But he was just leaving." She all but shoved his broom into his arms and him into the street. "Bye!"

Her mother, however, seemed too amused to let it go so quickly. "But aren't you going to give him an answer, sweetheart?" Her mother never called her sweetheart. She made sure Potter could see her glare perfectly as he grinned at her under the sun. "The answer's-" She hesitated, eyeing his raised eyebrows doubtfully. "Maybe." She shut the door on his surprised face and hoped he knew she wasn't referring to the date.

She was pretty sure she wasn't referring to the date. Even if considering either the date or suicidal missions just proved how her own rocker was not even in sight anymore.

Her mother and her father were really nice people. They were. Anything that might have gone through Lily's head at that moment, as she watched them snickering without bothering to hide it, was purely temporary. Lily scowled, cursing Potter for about everything and then some, Black for encouraging him and his stupid ideas, for coming up with half of the ideas and for just existing in the first place, Remus for not getting them under control, her parents for not acting like parents, and the rest of the world for living in it. And herself, she supposed, for thinking James still looked very appetizing even when being kicked out of a house.

She needed water and her mother was blocking the entrance to the kitchen.

She was pretty, Lily's mother, in a cute pixie-like manner, short and lean and just plain pretty, the way only certain people can be described and whoever was listening would understand. Only she was purposefully standing in her way so that she'd have to interact and talk about it and she knew it too, which was very, very ugly. She was usually delightfully witty too, unless James Potter happened to drop by and she decided she needed to mock her daughter. Then she wasn't funny, and her jokes were lame.

Her father, she noticed, as he made an entrance to the kitchen that she used to not be stopped by her mother, was the opposite. He was tall, buff and his hair was falling off, which made for a wonderfully permanent mocking topic. He was sweet, sometimes too much, which did not make for the same, because it just made you feel guilty.

She loved them both very much, which was why James Potter stopping by with a war mindset was a very bad thing to happen. Even if, somehow, she trusted him not to purposefully reveal information he knew she didn't want them to have.

Like she was reading Lily's thoughts, her mother immediately followed her into the kitchen, bringing him up. And not only him but him 2.0 as well. Her father instantly made himself scarce, because this was a subject neither she nor he wanted him knowing too much about.

"You know, that boy, he's much nicer than the one you used to hang out with during the summers." Her mother wrinkled her nose. "I always felt as though he thought as littlest as it was possible of us. Like we were rubbish." Lily involuntarily flinched, bitterly wondering how she could possibly have missed what everyone else had seen. "Not you, mind." She added, quickly and apologetically correcting herself.

"Yeah."She said quietly, almost miserable enough to go back to her room now. Then what her mother had said computed, and she frowned suspiciously. "Wait, what? You saw Po- James for all of five seconds! And the only thing he told you was how he was trying to date me! How could you possibly have formed such a high opinion of him?" She asked, indignant her own mother would betray her.

There was a pause. Lily got a horrible feeling. "He stopped by…" Her mother said vaguely. When she saw Lily's outraged face, she decided to get the whole truth out. "A few times." She admitted.

"Oh, I am going to kill him." Lily vowed.

Her mother frowned. "Really, Lily, this is not like you at all. He's a perfectly nice boy! What is it about him that makes you so angry?"

The fact that she did not have an answer to her mother's question perturbed Lily – a lot. At least, she tried to console herself, an answer that doesn't involve telling her things I promised myself I wouldn't tell her.

Surprisingly, this excuse held for a while. At the very least, it let her sleep. Mostly because her mother dropped the subject quickly, preferring to discuss their travel arrangements and ask whether Lily was all packed yet.

The same couldn't be said for the maybe she'd somehow blurted out at James' departure. It'd been hours, but during the day, she'd managed to keep herself busy, and the same couldn't be said for bedtime.

It wasn't as though she wanted to get herself killed. She furrowed her brows. Did she? She rejected the idea instantly. Of course not! Then why would she find it smart to say she might (the maybe was now changing priorities – first she didn't want to give him a complete no, now she didn't want to give herself a full yes) go with him on a stupid quest to do a stupid thing they were never going to manage?

They were going to get themselves killed. That was for sure. And if she went with them, so would she. She pursed her lips.

They weren't exactly chummy BFF's. They'd never been. She didn't fully grasp why her little rendezvous with James Potter hadn't been unbearably awkward. He had a restless manner of keeping everyone comfortable in his presence. Really, it was her house, during summertime, and he'd shown up out of the blue – she hadn't kicked him out; that seemed important to this particular list - wondering if she wanted to go see Voldemort. For a chat (that wasn't even sarcasm – he actually did want to have a chat with You-Know-Who). And some tea, maybe, she was sure.

It was bonkers. This was bonkers. She'd faster say yes next time Potter asked her out.

Maybe she could do both.

For some reason, that thought was what relaxed her eyelids into closing. Merlin knew what was happening to her, but the philosophical night wonderings about her death wish reasons would really have to wait.