Lily dreamt that night. She hadn't fallen asleep neither easily nor quickly, because her mother had insisted on knowing more about 'those nice boys' and Petunia kept pestering her about the paper - her tired body only gave in when all she could hear from outside were leaves rustling and crickets whistling and her mind had turned to the last of her worries - the Marauders and their monthly adventures.

But the kind-faced wolf with a smiling snout, the smirking dog, the squeaky voice and the powerful sound of hooves stretched, faded, built into something overshadowing and engulfing, and soon it wasn't so anymore, it was all dark with one bulging light, threatening to spill but not quite strong enough for it – but then – she could not help it any more than she could help breathing - she headed for it herself, plunged into its small confines and brought loose tendrils of black with her, which somehow warmed and weaved until they formed a messy little mop of black tuffs-

When she woke up, she did so with a sweaty start, but she turned over and snored again. The second time she awoke, she forgot the dream and was left weirdly thinking of that Seer she'd met that one time at the fair she remembered once from a different vacation.

She left her bed more tired than she had been lying down.

This was the beginning of a routine. The dreams did not come always, and they were not the same each night they did, but her vacation wasn't being nearly restful enough. She could find comfort in the fact that Remus was keeping his word – she saw neither hide nor hair of any of the Marauders once for a full two days. Granted, she was hardly a sociable visitor to any crowded space there might be in the neighbouring miles – although when she did, she wasn't completely rid of the four of them. Apparently, they'd already made an impression, not only on the respectful villagers that had hitherto condemned the one local group of miscreants and now condemned the two groups of miscreants, but also on the local teenage girls. The four of them, unlike Lily, had been prowling around, and though taking care to avoid her, they had become very popular.

"Good-looking ones, too." She overheard an energetic sixteen-year-old local girl tell Petunia once, who appeared, at the time, to be taking a break from pretending the uncivilized hicks in the village didn't exist, which was probably a result of her not knowing who these good-looking ones were, exactly. "Well, three of them, anyway. The other one's cute, but a pinch-his-cheeks kind of cute, you know? And the black-haired ones? So hot. They hang around a lot, and they're always asking about that red-haired friend of yours. Seem keen not to run into her actually, though the one with the messy hair-"

That was when Lily interrupted and dragged Petunia away, because she'd figured out that anyone familiar with Lily being around was good enough reason to go back to the pretending. She hadn't been going to the village often before that, but she began a concentrated effort to avoid it afterwards.

Still, this went on for a while – Lily was even getting hopeful she might be able to avoid the boys completely for the whole of her vacation, when the first magical thing of the decidedly Muggle setting happened. The rest of the day was, then, no less such.

Six years at Hogwarts had taught her that owls and breakfast meant clearing a landing space on the table. The fact that it was summer had taken her carefully developed reflexes away, and so, though the jug and her cup were safe, her plate nearly toppled to the ground.

She fortunately recognized the owl. "You're nearly as clumsy as your owner, you know that?" She snapped irritably.

The owl narrowed its eyes at her and hooted indignantly. Her mother nearly hooted as well, and Lily cringed when she took notice of the expressions on the faces of the rest of her family. They didn't seem to think it likely that an owl would land in her breakfast plate and be offended at something Lily had said.

"Here." Lily mumbled, offering Mercury a piece of toast in lieu of an apology. She untied his scroll and he flew off at once, ruffling his feathers dignifiedly. Petunia jumped up as they brushed her hair.

"Owls!" She shrieked, scratching and pulling at her hair as though she had a bad case of lice. "Where did the idea to use owls even come from?! What freaks! The food is ruined!"

Lily grimaced as her sister stomped off, presumably to re-wash her hair. She had the strong suspicion that never, in six years of her immersion in the Wizarding World, had she sent a letter that might have arrived to her parents at a meal time – clearly, she'd been right in doing so – but the same concerns wouldn't have crossed Alice's mind, because she had grown up eating with one hand and petting an owl with the other. Lily had left her bedroom window open for this precise reason, but apparently she'd made the mistake of doing the same to the door.

After she'd forbidden Lily from touching any more of her food, her mother seemed plenty excited, as she always was, about the whole thing, and was quite keen on knowing who the letter was from. Her father was grumpy about his breakfast and couldn't care less ("As long as she keeps in mind the standard father-daughter conversation about boys that I never had with her, let her have her privacy, Miriam. Are there any more eggs?"), but Lily wasn't hungry anymore, so when he managed to calm her mother down and sit with another plate, she excused herself and went up to her room to read the letter.

Lily, it read, in Alice's untidy handwriting, what do you mean, the Marauders are there?! You can't spend nearly a month with them as the only available non-Petunia company. Murder is punishable by law, you know, it'll send you to Azkaban for life. How did they know where – and when – you were going, anyway? I know James is a bit obsessed with you, but I didn't think he'd take it this far.

I miss you a lot and I'm honestly considering going to visit you, if only to prevent the aforementioned situation and maybe escape boredom. Hope you forgive me if I tell you I miss Frank the most. I haven't seen him since school ended. It's that mother of his, she drives me up the walls, and she knows it too. She keeps feeding him excuses not to visit. I would know, she's spent the whole summer dragging him around London in 'very important events'. And now, like that thing Dumbledore mentioned last Easter wasn't enough, he's gotten into his head he wants to be an Auror, so there are strangers at the Ministry who are getting to see and be pestered by my boyfriend more often than I am. And after last time he took me to his house, we both agreed his things were entirely too breakable, so I can't even ambush him there.

I'm really sorry that Petunia ended up joining you. – "Yeah, and you've met her the once." Lily muttered to herself – If you need me to get you anything from Zonko's to deal with the situation, you need only ask. Aside from that and Potter, have you at least been having fun? All I've done is sit around and stare at the walls, and my mum's paintings are hardly that interesting. Marlene hasn't been answering my owls, which I find strange. Have you been able to talk to her at all since the end of term? I know she's not a student anymore, but you wouldn't think she'd forget her friends that easily. I'll admit I'm a little nervous – I know for a fact we weren't the only ones Dumbledore made an offer to, and Marlene has always had the tendency to be reckless. Mary's parents have taken her to Spain, and I think it's because she's told them all about what's been going on in our world. I'm not sure they'll let her come to Hogwarts next year, and she says she's really regretting telling them. They're terrified, because Mary couldn't keep her mouth shut and told them about Dumbledore's idea and how she was planning to say yes to him on top of everything else.

I only meant to tell you that I have nothing to do with all that, but I managed to drastically change the mood of a piece of writing in the process. Well, do tell me if you're a good friend and will let me visit in your answer.

Love,

Alice.

Lily instantly fished some parchment out of her bag, but as she wrote the first word, an inexplicable hesitation overcame her.

Fact was, she didn't want to write a letter to Alice with empty reassurances that their classmates were fine – that they'd see them again – that, while she hadn't heard pip or squeak from Marlene all summer long, of course she was safe (though there wasn't a very good reason for that non-belief, really) – that there was no reason to worry about Frank becoming an Auror and an Order member – because those were all grand lies, and suddenly she was miserable and not in the mood to lie properly.

She laid everything down and made the decision to– not think about it right then.

Her eyes fell on her bag – she had made it the very day she had arrived and not undone it since. It was a bit earlier than usual, but if the choice was between leaving in the morning and staying in the house with Petunia's murderous mood and that letter glaring at her with nasty reminders, she'd take the hike.

She had taken to exploring the small mounts, which were conveniently in the exact opposite direction of the tiny house temporarily belonging to the Marauders. In the small bag, she had packed mostly water, and she had been taking it out every afternoon to climb the tiny hills. She was enjoying it – she would be completely alone for hours on end, and it meant not having her already suspicious mother inquiry her about spending too much time at the house.

She grabbed the bag and left the house.

Where she was headed, which was in the opposite direction of the road that took her to the Marauders' and the village, there was only one cottage, twin to the rest of its neighbours, and it was also one of the two she could see from her own bedroom. She didn't believe it was empty and abandoned solely because of the lights that shone through its windows at night, which was the only proof of life she'd witnessed so far.

That day was the day that stopped being true. The houses in the street didn't have proper boundaries, so that no one was quite sure which carrot plantation belonged to whom, but, here and there, small patches of green-looking bushes cropped up, contributing more to the forest-like feel of the place than the privacy of the people living in it. Through one of these, a young boy of maybe ten was peering, his body only half-hidden as though afraid of being seen and afraid of going unnoticed.

Lily slowed down, staring at him. The little boy seemed to be debating something with himself – perhaps whether he could get away with pretending not to have been seen.

"Hello." Lily said, taking the choice away from him. "You're the one who's been following me, aren't you?"

Because now she knew – she'd been feeling as though she were being watched every day, from her doorstep to the very end of the street, where there was no path except for the one she made. This had only fuelled her resolve to be as further away from home as much as possible, because if there was someone – something – there that shouldn't be, she wanted her family away from its path. Unfortunately, she was far too insecure in her sixth sense to be really worried, so all she had accomplished was having her mother ask about Lily's prolonged absences from the house that weren't being spent in the village with Petunia.

The boy turned scarlet, and whatever confidence he might have built up shredded before Lily's eyes.

"No, it's okay." Lily said hurriedly. "I'm actually relieved-" She shook her head. "Never mind. What's your name?"

He didn't look too inclined to talk, but now Lily had too many questions.

"I won't bite, I promise."

He cleared his throat. "Harry."

She grinned. "I'm Lily. Can you tell me why you're so interested in my walks, Harry?"

He flushed guiltily, but finally stepped completely around the plant. He was small – he only appeared ten when the plant was hiding most of his body. His hair was thin and a brown so light it was almost blonde.

"I'm sorry." Harry said, and he shuffled closer so that Lily could see the tiny glint of curiosity in his eyes. "I overheard you talking to your friend the other day." He blurted.

"My friend?" She asked slowly, dreading the answer.

"The one with all the scars." Harry said, now eagerly. "You called him Remus, but the other boys called him Moony."

Lily was horrified. Quite apart from what Harry might have heard by spying on the Marauders, she knew her conversation with Remus had been far from harmless for Muggle ears. "Stealthy, are you?" She said weakly.

Harry smirked. "Like a ninja."

Lily winced and tried to make up a way to salvage the situation. "So, uh, so- so, you liked the game we were playing?" Aw, jeez...

Harry frowned. "Game?"

"Yes?"

"It wasn't a game."

"It wasn't?"

He shook his head. "You go to Hogwarts, don't you? I'm going too, next year!" He said excitedly.

"You're – oh, you're a wizard!" Lily breathed, only half-undoing the knot of worry. "I didn't know there was a magical family living in the area."

"There isn't." Harry explained. "Because I've only just found out what I am a couple of weeks ago. This tall professor came to my house and did some really wicked cool things with her wand to make my mum and dad believe her."

The relief Lily had so tentatively grasped slipped through her fingers. "You're a Muggleborn."

"What's that?" Harry questioned curiously, and Lily had an inspirational moment of understanding about why Severus had lied to her all those years ago.

"It's, ah, nothing. It just means you come from a non-magical family. It doesn't really matter. I'm a Muggleborn witch myself." She forced a smile. "I'm sure you'll love Hogwarts. But, er, what, exactly, did you hear Remus and me saying?"

"Not very much." He stammered vaguely, but before Lily could call him out on it, he was saved by a very pregnant blond woman who stepped outside from Harry's house behind him. Her eyes scanned the nearby bushes before settling on the pair of them, from which Lily concluded this was Harry's mother.

"Harry!" She breathed, and Lily thought her relief was a little exaggerated, and yet surprisingly true, when she approached them. "What have I told you about leaving the house without warning us?"

He looked disgruntled. "I just came out to get a bit of fresh air..."

His mother glared at him and then turned to Lily with a strained smile. "Ah, I'm sorry if he was bothering you-"

Lily frowned, wondering why she'd assume so, and then remembered the old ladies at the village talking about the local group of kids, which everyone over the age of nine and below the age of fourteen belonged to. She cleared her throat. "Erm – not at all. We were just talking about Hogwarts-"

The woman's eyes widened. "Harry!" She cried, turning to her son. "You're not supposed to tell anyone about that!"

But Harry was back to being excited. "Don't worry, mum, she's a witch too! She has a werewolf friend with wicked scars, and-"

The woman turned back to her with her bulging eyes – the stress couldn't be good for the pregnancy - and Lily offered her a tiny, forcibly and hastily put-together thin smile, because her mind was reeling at what, exactly, Harry had heard. "Oh," Harry's mother gave a tiny little squeak. "I didn't realize-" She pulled herself together. "I'm Lara Todd – nice to meet you."

"It's, uh, alright... I'm Lily." Lily said warily. "But, erm, you're right. Harry, you can't expect every stranger you meet to be magical-"

That was the cue Mrs. Todd needed to turn back to her son.

"See?!" She reprimanded him. "That's what I've been telling you for days now-"

"Doesn't mean I can't leave the house-" He said resentfully.

Lily was beginning to imagine a way to vanish when someone behind her cleared his throat. It was Harry's father, and as it turned out, all three of them were greatly interested in meeting a second witch.

Tea got involved – she had to ride through the shock, and then the curiosity. Before Lily knew it, she was describing Switching Spells with the child-like enthusiasm that could only come from having an enraptured audience. She came to the realization that she could predict Mr. and Mrs. Todd's responses and reactions by keeping in mind how her own parents would react – and as her parents were people to whom the subject Lily considered off-limits – there was a very thick line, to her, between the world that was her home for most of the year and the one that included Petunia – she appreciated the conversation more than she normally would have.

Her morning turned out to be rather enjoyable, as it was, anyway. She realized quickly why she'd been approached that specific day – Harry wanted to hear more after her conversation with Remus, and he had waited a fair bit still since he had listened in on it in the first place; a ten-year-old's patience can be expected to stretch only so thin. She was able to, rather surreptitiously, if she did say so for herself, hint that talking about whatever Harry might or might not have heard was absolutely out of the question.

By the time she beat her hasty retreat home, it was time for lunch, and she was disappointed she hadn't gotten to see the mounts in the morning, which was her original purpose.

The afternoon dragged lazily, since she was trying to keep her mind functioning to a bare minimum, and Lily woke up in time to have dinner and be wide-awake for a night stroll. In her room, her unfinished letter sat untouched, taking up more focus than it should, so she put on a cloak she unburied from her trunk and chose the chilly darkness outside over her bed.

She could see the sky all the way from the cottage, invaded by the darker outline of the mounts. The lights in Harry's house were off as Lily made her reckless way in that direction.

Nobody stopped her this time. The closer she got to her goal, the less vegetation she saw, which she supposed to mean the earth would be melting the green into the reddish brown underneath. There was little she could see ahead as she started the climb, but there was still a vague path she could make out, straight up and ahead as though she were rising to the Heavens, an impression only magnified with how easily the top of the tiny mountain melded with the sky except for the barely distinguishable blurred outline in the middle.

She didn't know why she thought this was a great idea. The ground was cold, the only sound were the crickets, it was a bit windy up there, and the sky was pitch black, even if she could see the stars. Out of stubbornness or some other related non-quality she hadn't previously known in herself, she plopped right down, locked her arms under her legs and her chin on her knees, and she stared around.

She was fully prepared to stay for at least a few hours – she didn't even have a clear reason for that, but the top of the mountain sounded like the place to be right then, away from letters, and children who could be killed because they were born to Muggle parents, away from her comfortable bed and away from magic and any of the worlds she belonged to.

She couldn't have been there long before she heard padding on the ground behind her, soft and non-descript.

"Oh – hello." She said in surprise.

She noticed hooves first. And then a body of a deer – a stag, judging by the antlers. She wasn't sure what startled her most: the fact that it was not running away from the human that she clearly was, or that it didn't seem to have noticed there was a human there in the first place.

It was quite still now, and she couldn't very well take notice of the details in the dark properly, but it was big, and beyond the already-noted type of animal it was, that was all she could see. The way it looked, it was almost as though it was studying her, and as though it was as surprised as she was with the situation.

But it didn't stay that way. It trotted forward, not too slowly, but not too quickly either. Lily didn't think this was very normal behaviour, but what did she know, she'd never claimed herself a naturalist. She let it approach with wide eyes, and only when it was a foot from her did it slow down, folding his long furry members and setting himself with all the comfort of a being planning to stick around.

Lily blinked, but then she couldn't help herself. Her hand reached out to scratch its back, and she felt very accomplished that it blew air through its nose and twitched its ears, looking pleased. The stag was very warm. "Strange. I didn't know deer were this friendly toward people." She mused.

The stag whined noncommittally, though it almost sounded as though he was huffing reproachfully and trying to hide it. "Sorry. Stags. I didn't know stags were this friendly toward people." She stifled a smile, but it looked appeased. "You're almost as touchy as Alice's owl."

This time, she was sure, the stag was narrowing its dark eyes at her. She petted its head and it didn't seem particularly offended anymore. "Speaking of whom, she wrote to me this morning." She was losing it, she was sure. She wouldn't have opened her mouth to a soul about what Alice had written and what feelings it ignited in her, but, apparently, all she needed was a stag. "She's quite worried about a number of things. Frank, that's her boyfriend, is trying to make sure he ends up dead before he hits twenty and there are quite a few classmates and friends of ours missing. She's my best friend, which is why I don't want to tell her to tough up and get used to it, so I came here to avoid having to look at the letter." She paused. "I also don't want to tell her it's a bit pointless to worry, because we'll all likely be dead by the time she actually will have to."

And then, suddenly, thank goodness for the stag, because there wasn't a single person she could think of right then that she considered would be strong enough to handle what was, unbidden and undeterred, spilling from her mouth, on top of their own troubles, but stags didn't have troubles, did they?

She told it everything – she talked about the war, talked about Marlene, even talked about Harry and the impending shattering of his world, which, for him, would go about at a considerably younger age than the one Lily was when it happened to her. She talked about her vacation – all the things she was trying to bubble-wrap with so many facades that she couldn't remember what had been at the centre of the tightly compressed ball of messy emotions. She let it all burst out, let the stress leave her shoulders and figuratively rest on this random stag's back.

It took it all quite seriously, keeping its eyes wide open and fixed on her very quietly, and very unmoving. She didn't know if stags could frown, but his forehead was all rumpled the whole time she was speaking.

When she was done, her throat felt hoarse and her heart a hundred beats lighter. The stag seemed unsure if she had finished – but she smiled and kissed the top of his head. "Thank you – for listening." She chuckled. "Even though I probably have a better chance of understanding you than you do of understanding me."

The stag looked forlorn at that – but then she stood up, and so did it. She was halfway down the mount when she realized that it was following her. "I can't take you home." She told it gently. "And I think you'll be more comfortable up there anyway. Or is that sheep?"

The stag seemed impatient with her, nudging her leg forward and not at all as interested in natural habitats as he was in her rants about the war. She realized that if she was going to be viciously mauled by a stag, she ought to be within reach of population, so she let it follow her. She kept using that excuse and pretended she wasn't enjoying the company of an animal when she hadn't been enjoying the company of any human whatsoever for a while now.

But it stopped moving by the time she was about fifty feet from home. She raised a questioning eyebrow at it, but it just moved its snout silently in an eerie ghost representation of a human smile, and she turned back and walked into the cottage quietly so as not to wake her family.

Before she went to sleep, however, she peeked out the window to catch a glance of the huge shape one last time – but it had gone, and all she could hear then was the sound of a large animal galloping away.

That night was the first night of the holiday nightmare-free, even though she fell asleep with a weird thought in her mind.

Hooves, huh?