Chapter 10: Almost Like Being Free
The library was supposed to be a sanctuary. A safe place – a quiet place, away from the drama and nonsense of the common room, away from the distractions of her extremely fit boyfriend, or her lovely but noisy friends. And yet, despite that precious, unwritten social contract that everyone else knew to abide by, the peace had been shattered. Her safe haven, gone.
Potter – a boy who she'd seen in the library maybe once in all years prior to their sixth year at Hogwarts – seemed to have taken a liking to working in there. Nothing wrong with that in theory: they were, after all, tentative friends now. She'd worked hard to accept that the boy she'd once called "an arrogant, irredeemable twat" was now a friend. Besides, their social circles had become entwined in such a way that would make it an awkward tangle to try to separate again.
That was part of the issue. Because, at the other end of the study area that Lily liked to frequent, Potter was sat with Mary.
Lily adored Mary. They'd become fast friends in their dorm in first year, a shared bond of being outsiders to this new and exciting magical world bringing them closer together. Mary was kind; she cared deeply about her friends; she had a positive attitude that Lily wished she could reliably emulate. Mary was like the sister she wished she had.
But she couldn't stop looking over. Watching, as they laughed together. Watching, as Potter leaned over to point out something in a book. Watching, and wondering why she felt so compelled to do so.
It must have been her protective instincts, she decided. Potter was a wally of the highest order – yes, it turned out he had his lovely moments, but he was also prone to bouts of idiocy, particularly where girls were concerned. She didn't want to see Mary – wonderful, pretty, trusting Mary – get used up and discarded like any one of the string of girlfriends he'd had over the last few years. She deserved better.
Lily forced her attention back down to the essay in front of her. She'd written about three sentences in the past thirty minutes – about the length of time Potter and Mary had been sitting there.
Ugh. She was better than this. Wasn't she?
The sound of a chair scraping back lifted her gaze and she found Mary flopping down next to her. Potter seemed to have wandered off somewhere. "How's the essay going?" Mary asked, leaning over to take a look – she cringed. "Well, slow and steady wins the race, eh?"
"That's my motto," Lily agreed. She paused. "What are you two working on?"
Mary glanced back towards the table where hers and Potter's things were still scattered. "He's helping me with Transfig, and I'm helping him with Muggle Studies," she replied. "Like a cultural exchange."
Lily chuckled, although she didn't feel like laughing. "Fair enough." She paused, suddenly a bit tense, heart thudding. "You seem to work well together."
Her friend smiled slightly, fondly, and shrugged. "I'm very easy to work with," she pointed out.
"Of course," Lily agreed, pushing up a smile of her own. "It's just…"
Mary raised her eyebrows; suddenly, it felt like she was really looking at her, taking in her expression. Lily wasn't sure why that felt almost invasive. "Just…what?"
"Oh, um, nothing." Lily swallowed. "It just seems like… are you two…?"
Mary paused, staring back at her, and Lily worked overtime to keep her face neutral. The answer had no impact on her, after all.
"No," Mary said at last, and Lily thought she sensed something there, a decision finally made. "No, we're just friends."
"Oh," Lily exhaled, ashamed of this reaction in her and deeply, deeply relieved that it was only an internal one. "Sorry, I just – thought you two were…flirting a lot."
Mary smiled; as always, it lit up her face, it warmed Lily to the core – but she wasn't sure she'd seen her eyes look quite that sad before. "You know me, Lil, I flirt with everyone," she replied. "And he's just…friendly."
Lily wasn't sure what to say to that, how to respond in a way that might ease that look in her eyes. Before she could think of anything, Mary stood up again and gave her wand a flick: her things from the distant table flew over. "I'm bored of essay writing," she said, voice brighter than her face. "If James asks, tell him I'm all sorted with the Transfiguration and thanks for the help."
"Oh…okay," Lily agreed, glancing back towards the table. "See you at dinner?"
"'Course," Mary smiled, touching her hand briefly to Lily's shoulder before she turned and headed off. "See you…"
Lily watched her go, wondering what exactly had just happened. Had she read far too much into things? She didn't think she had, but judging from Mary's response…
Maybe she was projecting. She did feel a bit guilty about how much time she was spending with Rafe at the expense of her friends: there were only so many hours in a day and something had to give. If Mary had a boyfriend too, at least Lily would feel reassured that she wasn't just ditching her friend and leaving her completely alone.
And when she thought about it, Mary and Potter were a bit of a ludicrous pairing. They were obviously good enough friends – they got on very well, and always had, much to Lily's annoyance when her own experiences with Potter had been rather more combative – but, on reflection, they wouldn't have meshed well as a couple. Mary had more front than Brighton at times, but that's all it was, a front. Behind that, she was actually quite sensitive, and Lily didn't think that Potter quite had the skills to handle someone like that. He needed someone a bit more robust, someone who could give as good as they got.
Not that it really mattered, one way or the other.
A few minutes later, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Potter return to his table and pause, taking in the sight in front of him. She hastily returned to her essay before he could see her watching him, feeling ridiculous. She really needed to find her motivation to write, because at this rate, she wouldn't be finished until New Year.
"Alright Evans?"
She looked up again, finding Potter now in front of her, his bag over his shoulder. She gave him a small smile. "Alright, Potter…" she replied. She wasn't sure why she felt an odd tug of nerves in her gut. "Mary said to tell you thanks for the help, she thinks she's all set now."
"Ah, okay," Potter nodded, looking a bit awkward. Neither of them seemed to know what to say. "Well, I can only handle the library in short bursts anyway. Have to go and do something loud and boisterous for a bit, get my blood pumping again."
She laughed. "Of course. Enjoy."
"I will," he winked, and turned to leave. "Good luck with your essay, Evans."
She realised she didn't murmur "thanks" until he was already well out of earshot.
Sirius wasn't sure which version of his relationship with Remus was harder to cope with: the brittle, raw anger and total shutdown that had come straight after the 'incident', the hurt-but-pretending-not-to-be that had characterised the time just before he'd left for a month, or this current iteration.
It was almost like Remus didn't know him at all. He treated Sirius as if he were a daft cousin, or some Frankie First Year – always polite, made conversation where needed, made eye-contact and everything…but that was it. He was obviously determined not to acknowledge anything that had happened, determined to avoid the confrontation that they clearly needed to have. It was classic Moony. When they'd first worked out he was a werewolf, he'd tried to dismiss it entirely and change the subject for several days straight until they finally cornered him and got him to open up. But that had been based in fear – an understandable, deep-set fear that they wouldn't accept him as he was, that they would abandon him, that they would tell everyone the truth and have him hounded out of the school.
Was this all based in fear, as well? But fear of what?
Sirius knew what he was scared of. He was scared of never having his friend back properly, never getting to mend that bridge. He was scared of making things worse, of driving such a wedge between them that James and Pete would end up having to choose sides. He was scared of ending up on his own, and all because he couldn't control his temper. Control himself.
And how did you make up for something like that? He'd tried to imagine how he would have felt in Remus' shoes, tried to imagine how it would feel if James were to betray him in such a way.
It would break him. He knew that. But then, that was him, wasn't it, all over? He was always on such shaky ground that it wouldn't take much to send it all clattering down.
His mentoring sessions with McGonagall were excruciating, but, annoyingly, useful. When she'd said in the first session, fixing him with her steady, knowing gaze, that they were going to talk about his anger, he'd wanted to run. He'd never wanted to leave somewhere quite as much before – except his family home, of course, but that was in a league of its own.
But he also knew this was part of the problem. Not confronting how he felt, so that it could fester, sink deeper, infect every part of him and then come crashing out in exactly the wrong way.
So he'd drawn in a steadying breath, thought of the bravery and courage of Godric Gryffindor, and talked about his feelings.
Fucking hell. It was agony.
McGonagall, to her credit, never made him feel stupid, or ridiculous, or overwrought. He didn't love sharing this sort of stuff with her but he knew that it was the right thing to do.
They talked about his family only in a roundabout fashion, never really delving too far into any details. Sirius didn't want to relive it and McGonagall didn't push him. They talked about his pressure points, his triggers, and ways to redirect some of that energy more productively.
Well, he was trying. It was a slow process.
But he had to wonder, what was the point of all this, if Remus never let him back in again? If that was the way his life was going to be, then he might as well be angry, he might as well hex Snape six ways from Sunday, he might as well lash out at random.
One day at a time, his head of house reminded him. Sometimes, one hour at a time. Take it as it comes.
That was the approach he tried his best to take when the owl post arrived on an overcast Thursday morning. The Marauders were sat in their usual spot, powering through a stack of toast as if they were worried they might not be fed again. The sight of a neat, ivory envelope, all sharp corners and with familiar deep green ink, made Sirius stop, strawberry jam-laden toast half way to his mouth.
Discarding his breakfast, he picked the envelope up from where it had dropped on his plate and turned it over. Sure enough, the familiar crest stared back at him from the wax seal, a violent, deep red.
He paused. Looked up.
As he expected, he found a pair of grey eyes watching him from the Slytherin table. Regulus looked anxious – unusual, given his usual preference for showing as little emotion as possible. They stared at each other for a moment, unblinking.
The sharp edge of the paper tore through the pad of his thumb as he turned his attention to opening it, a tiny bloom of blood almost like the token needed to gain entry. Or, just another opportunity for his family to hurt him. One or the other.
"What've you got?" James had finally noticed what was going on; although Sirius didn't look up at him, he could hear the razor edge of concern in his voice.
Sirius read the letter carefully – it was short and to the point, so it didn't take long. He lifted his chin, meeting James' gaze across the table. "They've invited me home for Christmas."
James frowned, taking the letter from his hands to read it for himself. "What? To Grimmauld Place? Are they mental?"
Sirius' eyes flicked briefly over to his brother, who still watched, a goblet of pumpkin juice clutched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were white. "Of course they're mental, Prongs. We knew that."
Peter leaned across the table to try to see the letter too. "Eh? I thought they disowned you?"
Sirius smiled, humourless and strained. "Well, Pete, I would guess that it suddenly doesn't matter now that they've found out that my Uncle Alphard left all his money and property to me and not to them." He ran his finger absently over the thin cut on his thumb. "You know, the old 'Merry Christmas son, come back to the fold so we can gouge you out of your rightful inheritance' gambit."
Remus had remained quiet until this point; when he spoke, Sirius immediately looked over at him, pathetically keen to hear his voice in any way he could. "They can't seriously think that will work," he was frowning. "After…you running away, and…"
"And all that." Peter interjected, trying to save Remus.
"By 'all that', I assume you mean the beatings and use of Unforgivables," Sirius picked up his toast again, although his appetite was long gone. Around him, his friends stilled, and he looked up, taking in the expressions on their faces: James, who had known a bit about what had happened, looked both angry and sad all at once; Peter and Remus had perhaps guessed some of the details, but the confirmation of the ugly truth paled them both. Peter chewed fiercely on his bottom lip, the way he did when he wanted desperately to say the right thing but had no idea what it was. Remus, meanwhile, was staring at Sirius in a way that seemed to be only just held together. Most might not have seen the tell-tale signs, but his close friends always could see them – the flicker of tension at his jaw, the set of his shoulders, the way his breath came in slightly shorter bursts. Sirius didn't want to delve too deeply into what it meant that Remus had that reaction – didn't want to get his hopes up too high – especially when he himself was only just about keeping things under control. He swallowed. "Look. Don't worry about it."
"You're not – you're not thinking of going, are you?" James asked cautiously.
Sirius could only laugh: again, utterly without humour, and he didn't know it, but the sound only made his friends more worried. "Fuck no. I'm not an idiot," he replied. "Well, not that much of an idiot."
"Sirius – " James started.
"Honestly, Prongs," he cut him off quickly. "I'm going to throw that letter on the fire where it belongs, and all the gold in Gringotts couldn't pay me to cross the threshold of that shithole ever again." He paused, and stood up; three pairs of eyes followed his move (and a fourth, still, from across the room). "I'll see you in Transfiguration."
And it was a good thing he walked away, the letter compacted into a ball in his fist, because he only just made it to the second floor bathroom before he promptly threw up his entire breakfast.
The last Hogsmeade weekend of the term fell, with happy coincidence, on Dorcas' birthday. Lily, Marlene and Mary all put a lot of effort into gathering her friends in the Three Broomsticks, commandeering a series of tables in a cluster by the windows so that, in Marlene's words, Dorcas could "sit in the middle, get drunk and be fawned over appropriately by all and sundry". Given that Dorcas was very well-liked across the houses, and a member of at least three extra-curricular clubs, the turn-out was significant.
Remus had always enjoyed Dorcas' company. She was quieter than her close friends – something she and Remus had in common – but had a wicked sense of humour, was fiercely loyal, and, of course, had a competitive streak a mile long. She was the perfect person to sit with at Quidditch matches, in his opinion.
So it was no sacrifice to follow the group down to the village and pile into the pub, and with as many people as there were, it was easy to avoid being cornered by James, or left alone with Sirius. He'd felt even more vulnerable around him since that letter had arrived, and the truth of his mistreatment by his parents had come out: Remus hadn't liked how, on hearing that news, he'd felt so angry, so devastated on Sirius' behalf. He hadn't liked how he had wanted to reach out, to take his hand or sling an arm round his shoulders. He hadn't liked watching Sirius leave the Great Hall, pale and clearly shaken, feeling an urgent need to follow him. And he hadn't liked how his gaze had been drawn to Sirius, over and over again, throughout the day, checking to see if he was alright.
Caring about Sirius in this way was not productive. It didn't help him set and maintain the boundaries he desperately needed. He would care about him again, he would sympathise and empathise and be pulled back in, and that would only give him the opportunity to treat Remus as a pawn again. He wasn't going to invite that back in.
So he'd stepped even further back. He didn't go anywhere near the table where James and Sirius had parked themselves. It wasn't worth it. Remus was not what anyone would normally class as a social butterfly, but that day, he mingled, moving table to table, having inconsequential chat after inconsequential chat. That was how he found himself, mid-afternoon, on the edge of the group, a bit buzzed and a lot weary.
"You know," a voice spoke up, and he turned quickly to his right, noticing Owain Ollerton there. Whoever Owain had been talking to earlier had wandered off, evidently. "I was starting to wonder if you were avoiding me."
He'd always liked Owain. The Ravenclaw was entertaining in a way that Remus didn't always find other members of that house to be. They'd been paired up in Charms back in second year and found an easy-going sort of friendship that could be picked up and put to the side whenever needed.
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Why would I be?" he asked cheerfully.
"Oh, you know," Owain grinned, "intimidated by my good looks and charm?"
"Ah, right," Remus nodded with a smile. "That must have been it."
"I've been watching you," Owain added knowingly. "Doing the rounds. Most unlike you, Mr Lupin."
"Well," Remus shrugged, taking a sip of his drink, "I thought I'd try something different."
Owain shifted his chair just a little, so it was closer to Remus'. His leg brushed against his and he looked up, finding Owain's gaze very easily. "We miss you in Runes club."
Remus had to laugh at that. He'd only gone to a few sessions, back in third year; the lunar cycle had soon put paid to that. He hadn't wanted to give a whole new group of (very clever) people the chance to read into his repeated absences. "I'm sure you've all survived without my insight," he replied. "Dor's always been miles better at Runes than me anyway."
Owain smiled fondly, glancing around to catch a sight of the birthday girl: she was sat on Lily's lap, telling Rafe and Marlene a very intense-looking story. "She should've been a Ravenclaw."
"Go and say that to her now," Remus smirked, "I'm in the mood for some entertainment."
Owain looked back at him with a laugh. "You're a cruel one, aren't you."
"That's me," he agreed lightly. "I'm a monster."
There was a pause as they both took a drink, and Owain shifted again, his arm coming to rest along the back of Remus' chair. "So, tell me," he said. "Are you and Black…?"
Remus blinked, surprised. "What? No!" He frowned. "Why…?"
"Well, he's staring daggers over at me right now," Owain offered with a slight smirk, "so I was just checking I wasn't intruding on someone's territory."
Remus resisted the temptation – the very great temptation – to turn round and look. Even if it was true – which, not that he didn't trust Owain, but he doubted very much – what difference did it make? He wasn't in the business of caring about Sirius' reactions anymore. "I'm not anyone else's territory," he replied. "I don't know what his problem is."
Well, he probably did know, but he didn't want to examine that thought too deeply.
"That's great news," Owain smiled, brushing his hand briefly through his short blonde hair. "Say, fancy a bit of fresh air?"
It shouldn't have been a difficult question. And Merlin only knew that Remus didn't need any more complications in his life. But he was a bit drunk, and he was lonely – surrounded by people, utterly alone – and Ollerton was undeniably good looking. It was an ego boost, to say the least.
"Yeah," he said, and put his glass down. "I do, actually."
"I guess I misread things." James pulled his gaze away from where Mary was wrapped up in George McMillan's arms and took a long swig of his drink. He found, on reflection, that he didn't mind that much – it was just a surprise, that was all. He'd spent Wednesday afternoon in the library with her, thinking about asking her to Hogsmeade; by Thursday lunchtime, it was the talk of the Gryffindor table that George had asked Mary to go with him and that she'd happily accepted. Evidently the two of them had found some chemistry, judging by how much time they'd spent snogging each other's faces off that afternoon.
James looked over at Sirius, his friend notably distracted. "Did I? Misread things?" he pressed. "I don't want to sound big-headed, but…she was very flirty, Pads."
"Hmm?" Sirius glanced his way, then over at Mary, pausing before he gave a bored shrug. "Eh, maybe she decided you're not worth the hassle."
"Well," James rolled his eyes, slumping back in his chair, "thanks for your support, mate."
"Any time," Sirius patted him absently on the arm. Once again, his attention was elsewhere. "I think we should go and rescue Moony."
James frowned at what was, to him, an abrupt change of subject, following his friend's gaze over to where Remus sat, a few tables away. "He doesn't look like he needs rescuing," he offered. "Ollerton's friendly enough."
Sirius frowned. "They hardly know each other."
"Weren't they paired up a lot in Charms?" James recalled. "And Ollerton's in the Runes club, too."
"We should go over there," Sirius said, in a way that made James think he hadn't listened to a word James had said.
"Mate, we don't – " He stopped, and they both watched as Remus and Ollerton stood up; they moved, close together, towards the door, and James could just see Remus' hand clasped in Ollerton's. "Well," he said, as the tavern door swung shut behind them, "I definitely don't think he needs rescuing."
He drained his glass, then looked back over at Sirius: the boy was still staring at the door, an expression that looked like it covered a gamut of emotions on his face. "Didn't you know that Moony…" James trailed off, raising his eyebrows.
Sirius snapped his gaze back to him. "I…guessed," he replied cagily. "Did you know?"
"Same," he shrugged. "I haven't pressed him on it, I figure he'll talk to us when he's ready."
Sirius looked back over to the door again. "Ollerton's a prick," he muttered. "He deserves better than that smug wanker."
James raised his eyebrows. "That's a lot of vitriol for someone you said was 'actually quite funny' last week in Charms, Pads."
He could tell his friend was just barely holding his temper back – to be honest, it was impressive that he'd lasted this long. And very telling, that this was what set him off. "He barely talks to me anymore," Sirius said, voice low, angry and sad and frustrated all at once. "But he'll go off with him at the drop of a hat…"
James sighed. "Maybe you shouldn't sit back and wait for him to talk to you anymore," he suggested. "He's clearly going to avoid it if he can."
Sirius stood, chair scraping back with a clatter. "Need some air," he mumbled, and before James could stop him, he'd stalked out of the pub.
"Fuck's sake," James said, wisely, to himself.
He couldn't care about it for too long, though, caught as he was by the sight of Thicknesse pulling on his coat a few tables away. James watched – probably with about as much subtlety as Sirius had watched Remus and Ollerton – as Rafe bent to brush his hand across Lily's cheek, to press a lingering kiss to her lips. Lily flushed prettily, her own hand moving up to tangle briefly in his hair. Then, with a wave and something, probably well wishes, to Dorcas, Rafe headed out.
James waited for approximately thirty seconds before sidling over to their table. "Lost your fella?" he asked, slouching into the empty chair next to Lily.
Lily looked round, and seemed almost surprised to see him. She had to have known he was there – he'd certainly been aware of her presence – but, in fairness, he'd spent most of the afternoon sitting with Sirius and Pete, lurking on the edge of the group and focusing on getting a good buzz on. "Oh, hi," she said. "He's got an essay that needs finishing. Seventh year pains…"
"Ah, shame," James nodded, sounding as if he really thought that was true. He glanced over at Dorcas. "Enjoying your special day, birthday girl? How's it feel to be old?"
Dorcas sighed. "Time marches on, inexorably," she brandished her glass of firewhiskey as if it were a weapon. "Closer, closer, to the sweet embrace of death."
Lily smirked. "She gets a bit melancholy after the sixth drink," she told James, sotto voce. "Don't mind her."
James grinned. "Fair enough," he nodded, and raised his own glass to Dorcas. "To our inevitable doom, Meadowes."
"Cheers," Dorcas knocked back the rest of her drink. "Y'know, I'm glad to have some kind of legacy from this, my seventeenth birthday…"
"Oh yeah?" Lily asked fondly. "And what's that, Dor?"
"All the hook-ups," she replied with a pleased smile. "Mary and George, Trudie and Luke, Beth and Sara, Remus and Owain – "
"Remus and Owain?" Lily interrupted with some excitement. "Really?"
Both girls turned to look at James, expectant. "So it would seem," he confirmed with a raise of his eyebrows. "They snuck off a while ago. Ollerton's probably somewhere out there defiling my dear Moony as we speak."
Dorcas cackled with delight. "Good! Merlin, that boy deserves a bit of light relief." She paused, and narrowed her eyes at James. "What about you?"
"Ollerton's not really my type," he replied easily, making sure to not let his gaze drift over in Lily's direction.
"Ha, ha," Dorcas rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Potter. You're tall, you're sporty, you're clever, you're handsome if you like that sort of thing – "
"Thanks, Meadowes."
"So let's get you a girl!" Dorcas cast her critical eye around the pub. "Any preferences? Blonde, brunette, red-head – "
"Blonde," he interrupted, probably a bit too quickly. "Tall, blonde. Someone who can cope with Sirius."
"Of course, a package deal," Dorcas smirked. "Lambeth Shaw is blonde…ish. She's lovely."
"A bit delicate," James pointed out. "I think I would terrify her even just by going near her."
Lily shifted in her seat, drawing both their attention for a moment, although he couldn't quite work out the look on her face.
"Also," he added thoughtfully, "Lam was Moony's first kiss. You don't do that to a mate, do you."
Dorcas raised her eyebrows. "Wasn't Marlene your first kiss?" she asked. "But Black still leapt into her pants at the first opportunity."
"Eh," James shrugged, "I didn't mind that." Truthfully, he'd been so busy being hung up on Evans that Sirius could've married McKinnon and he wouldn't have cared. "But that's me, isn't it? I'm very generous."
Choosing to ignore that statement, Dorcas carried on. "Patricia Parkinson is objectively gorgeous."
"And a Slytherin," James scowled. "Have some respect, Meadowes."
"Fine, fine – ooh!" Her eyes lit up as she spotted someone across the room. "Cadence Dearborn."
He followed Dorcas' gaze to the girl in question, sat across the tavern with a group of her friends. She certainly fit the bill: she had a sheet of sleek blonde hair, long legs which were currently crossed elegantly and allowing her skirt to slip a little way up her thighs, and a lovely, warm face. Cadence was often a topic of discussion for blokes in their year. She was also – "The head boy's sister," he questioned, eyebrow raised dubiously. "He already hates me enough as it is for all the pranks we've pulled…"
"And who could blame him for that," Lily murmured, with a small smile. She too was looking over at Cadence, and he wondered what was going through her mind. "She's very clever – "
James frowned. "And what, because of that she wouldn't be interested?" he asked, feeling more needled than he expected to. "I am passably intelligent myself, you know."
Lily, for whatever reason, blushed. "No, I know, that's – that's not what I meant."
"She is clever," Dorcas agreed, "but she's a laugh, too. And she definitely fancies you, Potter. I've heard her talking to Lambeth about it."
"Really?" He tore his gaze away, giving a half-hearted shrug. "Well, I'll think about it."
"Just trying to help smooth the way for love," Dorcas winked. "I'm here to help."
He thought, on reflection, that he probably did need help, but maybe not with this. "You're all heart, Meadowes."
Lily stood up, an action which seemed abrupt and also seemed to surprise her as much as it did her companions. "Another drink?"
Storming out of the Three Broomsticks had been a bit of a rash choice, Sirius could admit later. It wasn't like he wanted to come across Remus snogging Ollerton – which he didn't, anyway; the pair had obviously found somewhere a bit more subtle than down one of the side streets, Sirius' usual necking location choice in Hogsmeade. It was bitterly cold, Moony was nowhere to be seen, and he could hardly go back into the pub after his reaction before – Prongs would insist on picking it all apart, which was just about the last thing he wanted to do. So, with a heavy sigh, he trudged back up to the school.
The common room was full of first and second years: hardly his first choice of company at the best of times, and these were not the best of times. His mood felt sharper than it had in a while, a dark cloud lingering over him. And it just made him angry, because why was it that something so relatively innocuous could push him back to the depths so easily? When they'd headed down to Hogsmeade that morning, he'd felt relatively cheerful. Why wouldn't he? He was going to spend the day with his best mates, have a few drinks, top up on Honeydukes chocolate.
Which he'd forgotten to do, so he couldn't even stuff his face with sweets to take the edge off.
He was sat on his bed, flipping through a Quidditch magazine with unnecessary levels of aggression, when the others returned. Apparently Remus had found his way back to his friends, because he trailed behind James and Pete, his face flushed from the cold air and looking happier than he had in a while.
"There you are!" James sighed, flopping down on to the end of Sirius' bed. "I wondered where you'd stropped off to."
"I didn't strop anywhere," Sirius replied, his tone very much not matching his words. "Just got bored, that's all."
James gave him a look which told him he could not have believed him any less if he tried. "Mmhmm."
"How was the rest of the afternoon?" he asked, determined to get the focus off himself. He looked over at Remus. "Everyone…have fun?"
Peter tossed his scarf into the corner of the room, his gloves following soon after. "Iris and I went for a lovely walk," he said cheerily, "and guess who we bumped in to?"
Remus sighed. "Pete – "
"That's right!" Peter beamed. "Our little Moonykins and Owain Ollerton!" He moved to give Remus a congratulatory punch on the arm. "Looking very cosy, might I add."
James grinned. "He's like a proud father, isn't he?"
"I feel like one," Peter confirmed, slinging his arm round Remus' shoulders. Remus rolled his eyes. "Moony, you're a handsome chap and so is he. You know what this means?"
Remus raised an eyebrow. Sirius tried not to clench his fists in his lap. "What?"
"It means you're finally starting to see your own worth!" Peter gave him a squeeze. "Imagine if we'd found you snogging, I dunno…Thomas Rosier or someone."
James wrinkled his nose. "Merlin, Wormtail, no one needed that mental image."
"And I don't think he's that way inclined," Remus added.
"Whether he is or not," Pete waved a hand dismissively, "he's obviously an ugly sod with an ugly personality to match. But you're snogging someone attractive – "
"Bloody hell," Remus sighed, "I didn't expect this reaction, to be honest…"
" – and he's a decent person, isn't he," Peter finished proudly. "Get what you deserve, Moony."
"Although the way he has made his point leaves a lot to be desired," James chimed in, "I couldn't agree more." His gaze flickered briefly over to Sirius. "Good for you, mate."
Remus shrugged Pete's arm off his shoulders. "Alright, well, thanks, I suppose," he replied. Sirius could tell that he was feeling uncomfortable – he wasn't the only one. "But let's not get carried away."
"Sorry, Moons," Pete grinned. "I just love love, you know?"
Sirius slid off his bed. "Got some things to do," he said, grabbing his cloak and slipping on his shoes. "I'll see you at dinner."
He didn't give anyone a chance to reply before he headed down the stairs, pausing only briefly in the common room to catch Mary's eye. She sat with Lily, trying to ply Dorcas with water, presumably to avoid the dangerous but entertaining prospect of Meadowes being off her face at dinner. Mary smiled at Sirius, although the smile slipped just slightly at the look on his face. "Alright, Black?"
"Yeah," he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Fancy some fresh air?"
Mary and Lily shared a look – something passed between them, although he wasn't sure what – before she nodded and stood up. "Sounds good to me."
They made their way out of the tower and through the quiet corridors, not saying a word. Mary seemed to understand that he didn't know what to say just yet – couldn't quite find the words – and they'd always managed silence pretty well.
In fact, no one said a thing until they reached the greenhouses, finding the spot where you couldn't be seen from the school or from Hagrid's hut. Sirius sat unceremoniously on the cold ground, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket; Mary stood, watching him for a moment, before she sat down too. "What's up, Black?"
He lit the cigarette, took a long drag and watched as the smoke drifted away. It was a few moments before he felt like he could speak. "What happened with you and James?"
She looked up, surprised, from where she was lighting a cigarette of her own. "What?"
"You and Prongs," he pressed on. "You two were flirting like mad. He was going to ask you to Hogsmeade. Then suddenly you're snogging McMillan, of all people."
There was a moment of hesitation, the lit cigarette dangling preciously between her thumb and index finger. "We're better off just friends," she said at last.
Sirius glanced over, irritated and not sure why. "You were desperate to ask him out not two weeks ago," he pointed out.
"Yeah, well," she shrugged, and took a pull of her cigarette. "Things change." She exhaled heavily. "Is he…he's okay?"
"He's fine," Sirius replied, because it was the truth. "He was a bit confused, but I'm not sure he's all that bothered."
Mary smiled, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Good."
He stared down at his hand, at the slight tremor there, a hangover from the anger and self-hatred and strain of the day. He wanted it to stop. "Mac."
He could sense her gaze moving to him. "Black?"
"Want to find a broom cupboard somewhere?" he asked.
A pause: her voice, quiet, confused. "…excuse me?"
The cold was helping him feel numb. He tapped his cigarette, watching the ash float down to the ground. "You, me. Fuck each other to oblivion in a broom cupboard." He glanced up. "I won't tell McMillan."
Mary frowned. "You don't want to have sex with me," she told him.
He tilted his head. "I'll be the judge of that, Mac."
"Sirius." First names – this must be bad. "Come on. You know you don't."
He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. "It's a good palate cleanser, Mac. An orgasm to wipe the slate clean." He reached out to tuck a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "Doesn't have to be a big thing."
Her frown only deepened; she moved her hand, and he assumed she would bat his away – but she took his hand in hers. "What do you need to wipe away, Sirius?" she asked softly. The concern in her voice was painful. "What's happened?"
He swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Nothing happened – "
"Something did," she interrupted. "So why don't we talk about it, instead of using sex as a coping strategy and fucking up our friendship?"
He pulled his hand from hers. The words tumbled out of him, filter long gone behind defensiveness, that anger that had never gone away. "Christ, Mac, it was just a suggestion. One I thought you wouldn't mind, you know – James, and McMillan, you obviously don't mind flitting between blokes…"
Silence. He cast a glance at her; she was staring at him, face sombre and pale. Regret had already started to seep in, along with a healthy dose of shame at the look in her eyes. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that," she murmured at last.
He dropped his cigarette, grinding it under his heel. "Sorry," he muttered, and was surprised to hear the heavy emotion in his own voice. He sounded like he might cry. What the hell was happening to him? "Sorry, Mac. I didn't mean it."
As he stared down at the grass, blinking fiercely, she shifted inexplicably closer to him, her arm looping through his, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. "Apology accepted."
"I just," he said, and laughed, the sound broken and sad. "I just can't feel like this anymore."
"I know." She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "It's okay."
"It's not," he pointed out. "I know it's not. I'm sorry…"
Another silence fell. His eyes stung. All he could think about was Ollerton, leading Remus out of the pub. The way Moony couldn't even look at him when they got back to the dorm room.
"Dinner?" Mary suggested quietly, a few minutes later. "It's sausage and mash."
He shook his head just barely. "I…can't," he said, and hoped she wouldn't ask why.
She didn't. "Okay," she agreed softly. He knew he didn't deserve the kindness in her voice. "We can just stay here."
It was dark by the time they stood up and headed inside, the Great Hall empty of students. Sirius knew it was the least he could do to sneak Mary into the kitchens, even if he didn't have much of an appetite himself. They carried a selection of sandwiches and cakes back up to the tower, pausing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. "I am sorry," Sirius told her plainly.
She just gave him a small, warm smile. "I know you are." She took his hand. "C'mon. Chess."
What with the stress and drama of Hogsmeade, and Sirius' strange, sad mood since then, James was very glad for Monday to roll around. It was their last Quidditch practice of the term, and a couple of hours out on his broom, weaving and diving and perfecting plays was just what he needed. Out there, he could leave the awkwardness of their dorm behind and unite with his team behind a singular purpose. There really wasn't anything flying couldn't sort out.
Exhausted and content, he headed inside, once more set on a bath to soothe his aching muscles. That had the added bonus of keeping him away from the dorm for a bit longer, too – and as much as he loved his friends, any kind of a break from whatever that was all about was a blessing.
The door to the prefects' bathroom was just slightly ajar – unusual, he thought idly as he stepped inside, already shucking off his Quidditch jersey. He made it almost to the edge of the tub before several things happened at once.
His tired brain finally connected up his thoughts with what he was seeing, which was Lily Evans, gloriously naked and – mercifully? tragically? – covered in bubbles on the far side of the tub.
He dropped his boots with a thud which echoed triumphantly around the room (and dropped his jaw, too) and said, quite profoundly, "Merlin's sacred sock drawer, Evans – "
And Lily shrieked at the top of her lungs.
"Jesus Christ, Potter!" She was frantically trying to pull bubbles around her, to cover her – oh, fuck, her tits were right there. Luckily, his body seemed to remember decorum and decency as his gaze snapped up to the vaulted ceiling even when his brain would much rather he'd kept his eyes where they were. "How did you – "
"The door," he interrupted, an edge of hysteria in his voice. "It was – the door was open, I swear on – on my mother's life, Evans – "
"Fucking hell," there was a splashing sound: intriguing, but he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the ceiling. "I – I didn't think to check – there's been some issues with it not closing properly lately…"
"I'm not a pervert," he promised quickly, although he didn't like that that was probably what a pervert would say. "Bloody fuck, I – I just finished Quidditch, I just – a bath, you know – "
"Alright," she gave the heaviest sigh he'd ever heard from her, and he'd heard a lot of her heavy sighs. "Relax, Potter." There was a pause. "I was about to get out anyway."
"Oh," he said to the ceiling, "um, okay."
"Could you…turn around?" she prompted; he spun to face the wall and intently admire a painting of a mermaid. A few minutes later, her voice sounded again, closer this time. "Okay. It's all yours."
He turned back around with some trepidation. "Right. Cheers, Evans."
She levelled him with her gaze for a moment. "I hope we have both learned some valuable lessons here?"
He blinked; it was all he could do not to look down at her blouse, at the dampness of her skin still evident from where she'd rushed to get dry and dressed. "Um…?"
Another sigh. "Well, for me, I have learned to always check the door is fully closed before stripping off and having a bath," she said, more patiently than he'd expected. "And I would hope that you have learned to knock and announce your presence loudly if you find the bathroom door even slightly open."
"Right you are," he agreed with a nervous laugh. "Very wise."
She paused, then shook her head, heading off and out the door – and, quite pointedly, he thought, shut the thing behind her with a firm click.
It took maybe fifteen minutes for his mind to fully reset itself, and for the shame to descend. Merlin, he really hoped she didn't think he'd done that on purpose – they were finally at a stage where they were friends, by and large, and if she suspected he was using it as an opportunity to ogle her in the altogether, he'd be out of her graces before he'd be able to blink.
It was this reminder of their friendship, and the fact that he was determinedly moving on from her, that stopped him from succumbing to the urge to have a furious wank, right there where she'd been soaking – naked, his brain reminded him – just minutes before.
That was self-control. He hoped it would last.
An hour later, as he made his way through the common room, he gave Sirius and Pete - engrossed in a game of chess by the fire - a wave, which they returned distractedly. Relieved to not see Lily anywhere, he made a beeline for the dorm stairs.
Remus was sat on his bed, scribbling something on a piece of parchment; he looked up and watched as James dumped his dirty Quidditch kit in a heap on the floor, kicked the dorm door shut and moved to sit at the foot of Moony's bed.
"I saw Lily in the bath," he said, deciding that preamble would be a waste of time.
Remus' eyes widened comically and he sat forward. "I'm sorry - what?"
"Apparently there's been an issue with the prefect bathroom door, it doesn't always shut properly and it hadn't done, and I wandered in there all innocent and muddy from practice to find her in the bath." The words rushed out of him - it was almost a relief. He sighed and lowered his voice a little, furtively. "Moony, I almost saw her tits."
Remus could only blink for a few seconds before he found any words. "Wow…"
"Yeah," James agreed.
"I mean…blimey," Remus shook his head.
"Yeah," he said again, and paused. The quiet of the dorm room struck him, and he thought about what he had caught sight of downstairs – Sirius and Pete hadn't looked very far into their game. He lifted his gaze to look his friend in the eye. "This is an embarrassing secret, Moony. You know why I'm telling you?"
Remus raised an eyebrow, and a shoulder in a shrug. "Why?"
"Because you're my best friend."
James watched, fondly, as the flash of realisation crossed Moony's face - that he'd wandered unwittingly into a Serious Conversation, one he'd been avoiding since his return, and now there was no easy way out of it. "Prongs - " he started.
"You know how there's a scale of, I dunno, affection?" James carried on; best to cut the chap off before he got a head of steam going. "With, let's say, Rosier and Mulciber and those utter cretins at one end, and my mum and dad at the other?"
Remus eyed him warily. "James, I don't need you to - "
"On this scale," he barrelled on cheerfully, "there's mum and dad, obviously, and then just below them is a three-way tie." He held up three fingers to tick them off. "You, Sirius, Pete. All the same level, as it happens, because best friend isn't just one tiny pedestal, it's a…" he paused thoughtfully. "Yes! It's a platform. With space for several people."
Remus had that uncomfortable, squirmy look about him that told James that he was trying desperately not to get emotional. "Seriously, James, you don't need to…tend to my wounded ego or anything."
James fixed him with a stern look. "Piss off, Moony. You can't tell me who my best friends are. I'm the one who makes that decision." He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentler. "I'm sorry. After…what happened, I just wanted things to be okay again, but…that shouldn't have come at the expense of your feelings."
Remus dropped his gaze. "S'alright."
"It's not," James insisted quietly. "Sirius fucked up. He knows it. Pete knows it. I know it. And if you think I haven't been angry and sad and…and fucked off about what he did to you, then I'm sorry, because I should've made it clearer."
A silence fell, although it wasn't awkward. James had a feeling that Remus was using the opportunity to gather himself.
"It felt like we'd lost a limb without you here, Moony," he added eventually. "If you think you aren't important, that you don't matter to us, then I'm sorry but you're fucking mad."
A smile, finally, cracking just slightly through on his pale face. "Alright," he said, voice thick with feelings unnamed. "Christ. You've made your point. I believe you."
"Good," James nodded. "But I'll keep reminding you at regular intervals, just in case."
"Kind of you," Remus replied dryly.
"And you might want to put the stopper in that inkwell," he suggested.
Remus frowned in brief confusion before the truth of what was about to happen dawned on him. "Wait - "
"Incoming!" James beamed before launching himself at his friend, half hug, half tackle that ended up with them both falling off the bed, Remus kicking him in the shins and James declaring all out war as he attempted to sit on his friend's chest.
All in all, it hadn't been a bad evening, really.
Remus didn't have a lot of experience in sneaking around Hogwarts and snogging furiously – or at least, he hadn't, before this week. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to: he'd had his fair share of crushes, a few kisses here and there. But lycanthropy tended to put a dampener on romance. He could hardly say, terribly sorry, can we snog in a few days, only I've got to turn into a slavering monster and then recover from having my whole body torn and reformed by force? That sort of thing would cool passion in a flash, he was fairly certain.
He wasn't sure why he felt less concerned about that when it came to Owain. It probably helped that the bloke hadn't made any overtures towards him in public, just as happy as Remus was to neck in cupboards or secret passageways when they had a spare moment. It wasn't serious, and so it wouldn't matter when Remus inevitably had to duck out and go back to his monasterial lifestyle.
His mates seemed to be letting him be, a relief after Peter's embarrassing speech in the dorm room on Saturday. James was busy sorting out the SWEN Christingle event, which was happening on Thursday, the last evening of term; Peter was busy gazing lovingly into Iris Fenwick's eyes; Sirius was busy…avoiding him, basically. He was spending a lot of time with Mary, something which made Remus' skin prickle at first, but it seemed entirely platonic. They disappeared for hours at a time and came back smelling of cigarettes. If that was how Sirius wanted to spend his time, well, Remus wasn't going to stop him.
Wednesday evening saw him crammed into a broom cupboard just along from the Charms corridor, his fingers buried in Owain's silky blonde hair, lips swollen and breath short. "It's, um," he murmured as they pulled back for air; in the darkness of the cupboard, he could make out the grin on Owain's face. "It's nearly curfew…"
"Bugger," Owain smirked, his hands sneaking once again under Remus' shirt. Just the slightest graze made him shiver. "I was hoping I could get you to make that noise again."
Remus laughed, glad that it was too dark to see his cheeks blush a deep pink. "Next time," he promised, closing the gap between them for another quick kiss.
"After Christmas, probably," Owain mumbled against his lips. "Not sure I can wait that long, Lupin…"
"Well," Remus said, and pulled him back until he was pressed against the cold stone wall, Ollerton's body flush against his own, "I suppose five more minutes wouldn't hurt…"
Fifteen minutes later, they parted ways out in the torchlit corridor, Owain giving him a wink before he headed off to Ravenclaw tower. Remus stayed there for a few moments, just letting his heart rate settle once more, and then he too turned and set off.
Just round the corner, he bumped into – literally, walked right into – Rafe Thicknesse. "Oh! Shit, sorry…"
Rafe glanced over his shoulder at the door to Flitwick's classroom; Remus followed his gaze with a slight frown. "No harm done, Lupin," he replied, fixing a charming smile on his face. "We should be hurrying anyway, right? Nearly curfew."
"Right," Remus agreed cautiously.
"Don't want detention right at the end of term," Rafe winked. It was much less charming than Owain's wink just minutes before. "See you round, Lupin."
"Right," Remus said again, and they stared at each other for just a moment before both setting off in opposite directions.
Back in the dorm, he approached Sirius – something he hadn't done in a while. "Have you got the map?"
Sirius looked up at him in surprise. "Yeah," he confirmed, leaning over to his bedside table and fishing the parchment in question out of a drawer. "…you alright?"
"Fine," he replied, and murmured the password that set the map unfolding, ink blooming before their eyes. He was aware of Sirius watching him curiously, and Peter, too, from his position on his own bed. He kept his eyes on the map, though, searching intently until – "Shit…"
"What?" Sirius leaned forward, his shoulder brushing Remus' as he got close enough to look. "What's up?"
Remus hesitated, then pointed to the Charms corridor.
"Rafe Thicknesse," Sirius read with a slight frown. "In Flitwick's room with…Aoife Walsh?" He glanced up at Remus. "Well, they're mates, aren't they?"
Remus sat on the end of the bed with a heavy sigh. "They were going out, on and off, all last year," he replied. "And…well, back in September…I caught them going at it in the second-floor spare classroom."
Peter wandered over. "But he's with Evans now."
Remus rubbed a weary hand over his face. "I've seen him a few times, hanging around the Charms corridor when he's not with Lily. I don't know if he's messing her around, or…trying to get Aoife jealous, or – "
"That wanker." Remus looked up, and cringed at the sight of James – who had clearly heard every word – standing in the bathroom doorway, toothbrush in hand and a look of disgust on his face. "I knew there was something dodgy going on with him! Why didn't you say something sooner, Moony?"
"I didn't know if I was right," he pointed out, "and I didn't want to upset Lily, if I was wrong…"
"She deserves to know," Peter piped up with a worried frown. "It's not fair to her if he's just, I dunno, using her to get his ex back."
"Who's going to want to have that conversation?" Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow. "Maybe we should just tell Marlene, or Mary, let them handle it."
"That's not fair, though," Remus shook his head. "And more humiliating for Lily – even more people knowing before she does."
"I'll tell her." They all glanced again at James, knowing that tone of voice well. He'd already decided. "You're right, someone should."
"But Moony's the one who – " Sirius started.
"Moony's got enough to think about," James interrupted. "And you're right, it's not going to be an easy conversation. I'll handle it."
Remus couldn't help but think this was a bad idea – a really, truly bad idea – but he knew a losing fight when he saw one. If James wanted to be the one to open that can of flobberworms, so be it. "If you're sure…"
"I'm sure," James nodded, making his way back towards the bathroom. "Leave it with me, mate."
The Great Hall, while not full, had more people in than Lily had expected. It seemed as if every Muggleborn in the castle was there, keen to relive their primary school days, and had brought along friends to the occasion. Most of the staff had come, too, milling around cheerfully. Lily even saw Dumbledore discussing sweet placement with James at one point. All in all, the event was a success.
It hadn't been guaranteed. Lily knew, along with a few select others, that some unnamed students had tried to sabotage the event. Some charming person had painted 'GO HOME, MUDBLOODS' on the floor of the entrance hall just last night; it had been an unpleasant sight for the pupils coming down to breakfast. Filch, Flitwick and McGonagall had made quick work of getting rid of it, and James had loudly proclaimed over his bacon and eggs that this sort of thing was exactly why they needed events like the Christingle in the first place. He was a noisy sod, she had thought idly, but he wasn't wrong.
In fact, organising the event, running meetings for SWEN, sorting out playlists of Muggle music for the hall – all these things had shown Potter in quite a different light. Once Lily could get over the embarrassment of the Bathroom Incident and could look him in the eyes again, she realised that she was looking at him in a whole new way. He wasn't just an arsehole who wouldn't leave her alone; he wasn't just a sort-of-friend-by-circumstance anymore. Did she… like him?
Platonically, of course. Why would she be remotely interested in Potter in that way? She had a dreamy, caring boyfriend, thank you very much.
Rafe hadn't made it to the Christingle event. He'd stopped by the table at dinner, dropping a kiss to her lips. "Last minute edits to make to my essay due in the morning," he'd explained. Just on the edge of her field of vision, she could see the Marauders all watching, looking uncomfortable. She chose to ignore them. "Have fun, though."
She didn't mind. It was fun wandering round with Mary, helping where needed. And how could she be glum when the torches on the walls were extinguished, leaving only the gentle glow of dozens and dozens of candles, lighting up the faces of her fellow students? She defied anyone to feel anything but warm and happy at that.
She volunteered to help with the clean-up operation, feeling a bit guilty that she hadn't helped with any of the preparations. Not that she'd been asked, of course, but still – she wanted to be useful. With magic at their fingertips, the group (overseen by McGonagall) had the hall cleared in about ten minutes.
"A fine event, truly, Mr Potter," McGonagall gave James a rare, fond smile. Not rare for Lily, of course, but rare for Potter – he was probably more used to exasperation or anger from his head of house. "Well done."
"Couldn't have done it without the whole gang," James replied modestly, waving at his fellow SWEN members who were already heading out of the hall. Lily wasn't sure why she felt compelled to linger. "Thanks for letting us do it at all."
McGonagall nodded. "Go, get some rest, you two," she told them. "You've done quite enough in here for tonight."
As they turned to go, James glanced over at her, almost as if he hadn't realised she was still there. Lily fell into step beside him. "She's right," she said at last, as they started up the first staircase. "You did a brilliant job. It was such a lovely gesture for Muggleborns, to be able to share this tradition with everyone else."
James nodded awkwardly. "Well, it's the least I can do," he shrugged. "And it's just the beginning."
She smiled. "I'm sure it is," she agreed. "I've learned not to underestimate you."
At the next landing, he stopped, and turned to her. She couldn't work out the look on his face – why would he look so uncertain? "Listen, Evans…I need to tell you something."
She stopped too, frowning slightly. "Okay?"
He sighed. "I think – Rafe, um, well – he's been hanging around the Charms corridor a lot, with Aoife Walsh, and – "
"What?" she interrupted, the word tripping off her tongue before she could even gather her thoughts. "What are you saying?"
"It's just – he's obviously cheating on you, Evans, shagging around behind your back and then acting the smooth prick when he's with you," he said, all in a rush. He looked a bit pained at the words. "I just knew he was acting dodgy, there's something so off about him, the smarmy git, and then Remus said – "
"Stop," she bit out, her voice sharp. His eyes widened just a little. "Christ, Potter, I thought we were past all this!"
"What?" he frowned. "No, it's not – "
"I thought we were friends now," she said, her whole body tense. She felt sick and wasn't sure why. "But you're just a jealous, arrogant twat, aren't you? I knew you were being weird with Rafe, but I didn't think you'd stoop to this bollocks – "
"Seriously, Lily." His switch to her first name only served to twist the knife. "It's not about that, I swear – "
"No," she interrupted again. "Enough. I've heard enough."
James reached for her: she took a jagged step back. "I'm telling the truth, Lily."
"Don't touch me, Potter." She stared at him with disgust. "And don't talk to me again."
She was two floors away before she started to cry.