Chapter 12: Even When I Numb Myself
after
She was sat alone, in a carriage at the opposite end of the train from her usual spot, when Mary found her. For whatever reason, reasons she didn't care to analyse, she had made sure to arrive at King's Cross as early as possible on the 6th January, avoiding the crowd on the platform and giving her the opportunity to slip, unseen, into her own carriage. At one point, she'd seen Marlene and Dorcas out of the window, chatting merrily; her instinct had been to duck out of sight. When the train started moving, steam billowing and obscuring her view, she felt as if she'd been given a stay of execution. She didn't imagine she'd be alone for too long, but at least for now, she had time to herself. Time to gather her thoughts.
They were moving through the Lake District, gliding past fells and water that looked like sheets of mirrored glass, the distant crest of hills dusted with snow, and Mary sat quietly in the seat across from her. "There you are."
Lily tore her gaze away from the view. "Here I am."
Mary studied her face for a moment, clearly trying to work out what she was dealing with. "You missed the prefect meeting," she said next. "Lupin came looking for you afterwards."
"Oh," Lily nodded, glancing reflexively at the door. "Right. I forgot."
Mary frowned. "Are you avoiding Rafe?" she asked. "He came looking for you, too…"
Lily could have laughed. Might have, if she'd had the energy. She'd forgotten all about that, about that delightful humiliation that awaited her. It also gave her a convenient excuse. "I am," she replied, and it sounded true. "I'm not sure I want to have that conversation on the train where there's no escape."
Mary didn't look entirely convinced, but nodded anyway. "I don't blame you for that, love," she sighed sympathetically. "I didn't say anything, by the way, but I was pretty frosty with him. Couldn't help myself."
Her heart ached. This was Mary – Mary, who'd given up the chance to date the boy she fancied to spare Lily's feelings; Mary, who took on a grudge and nursed it, let it grow, on behalf of any of her friends. Woe betide anyone who fucked over one of Mary's nearest and dearest: she may have looked sweet and innocent, but looks could very much be deceiving. "Thanks, Mare."
"And I haven't said anything to Marl or Dor," Mary added. "But I can, if you want me to…save you having to tell them."
She pushed through a smile – a small one, but a smile nonetheless. "Thanks. I'd prefer not to have to go through it all again if I don't have to."
"Of course." Mary glanced out the window, then looked, almost cautiously, back at Lily. "Are you staying in here for the duration?"
Lily swallowed against the lump in her throat. "Yeah, think I will."
"Want some company?"
Another smile, another lie to spread. "No, it's okay – thanks Mare. Just getting some reading done."
There was a moment where Mary looked so worried, as if the sight of her friend there was enough to squash down any happiness. But it was gone in an instant, passed over in favour of a small smile of her own, and a lean in to grasp Lily for a brief hug. "Okay. Love you, Lils."
Lily didn't want to cry. She hadn't, this whole time. Now would be a terrible time to start. "Love you too, Mare."
She spent most of the rest of the journey alone, watching as the pale grey sky faded into inky darkness, the train drawing them all closer, closer, back to school. They were maybe thirty minutes from Hogsmeade, the lamps in each carriage and along the corridor flickering, when Rafe appeared in the doorway. "I was starting to worry," he smiled, and slid into the seat next to her. "Though that maybe you'd decided to leave school and join the circus, or something."
She turned to him, taking in that warm smile, those eyes that only a month ago set her tingling. She wondered how she could have missed it all – that edge of pretence, the falsehoods behind his smile. Taken in by a handsome face. Just happy to be liked. "I'm sorry," she replied, surprised by how solid her voice sounded. "I assumed you'd had your use out of me."
He blinked, shifting uneasily next to her. "What do you – "
"I saw Ama in the holidays," she said. Even the memory of it was painful. Demeaning. "She said I'm such a good sport for helping you make Aoife jealous, and that it was working brilliantly."
She could see the moment it all clicked into place for him – he was Ravenclaw, after all, he wasn't daft – and the moment he made a decision on how to proceed. "Look, Lily…if you misunderstood things, I'm sorry," he said, voice smooth as silk. "I thought you understood what we had."
She stared at him for a moment, then laughed – actually, laughed, like some unhinged lunatic girl that she desperately didn't want to be. "Oh, Rafe," she shook her head. "I didn't realise what an utter shit you are. Thank you for making it so clear."
He looked like he was foundering, his plan already derailed. "Lily – "
She turned back to the window. "Good luck with Aoife," she addressed her words to the non-existent view, shrouded in night. "You two deserve each other."
She wasn't aware of him leaving the carriage – didn't much care to track his movements, anymore. All she could do, for now, was draw in steadying breath after steadying breath.
Really, this was the least of her problems.
before
The grainy picture on the television showed Big Ben, the characteristic bongs chiming out across London to signal the new year. A fresh start. She sat there, staring at it, at the sweep of the camera showing revellers by the Thames, the crisp vowels of the presenter reminding the viewers about what was to come in 1977. On the edge of her field of vision, she could see her dad, holding her mum close, murmuring something that brought a smile to Rose Evans' face, pressing a kiss to her cheekbone, her temple.
She loved how much her parents loved each other. It had always given her hope, faith in her own future, an ideal to work towards – maybe too high a standard, if her friends' parents were anything to go by. But she could believe. Some days, that was all anyone had, wasn't it?
Haematology. The girl who was obsessed with reading the dictionary, with calling out new and exciting words to her parents over the breakfast table, knew the root word - haima, Greek for blood. It had always fascinated Lily, that so much of the English language was pieced together, like a messy jigsaw, from fragments of so many other languages. "You're a wordsmith, my girl," her dad had told her proudly. "Always looking for meaning."
So, she knew. She knew the meaning, here, of that letter that was placed so innocently between the toaster and the kettle, set to one side as if it didn't have the power to decimate, to devastate. It meant her mother was unwell, it meant there was something wrong with her blood – the insanity of that, blood, surely something as reliable and steady as oxygen – how could there be something wrong with anyone's blood? It didn't sound real; it didn't sound like something someone's mother would be struck down by.
She had to drain her glass, then, bubbles in the champagne tickling down her throat, an altogether too light sensation compared to the heavy dullness that had settled in her stomach.
"Well, I know it makes us sound ancient, but I think we're to bed," her father said; his words drew her gaze, and she blinked, feeling as if she couldn't quite focus on him, on her mother tucked under his arm. "You staying up a bit, Lil?"
She nodded, because she wasn't sure she could move yet, even if she'd wanted to. "I'll lock up and all that," she murmured.
"Happy new year, sweet," her mother said, a fond but tired smile on her lips. Lily stared back at her, wanted to say – to scream - that she knew what was happening. "Don't stay up too late, now."
She tried her best to smile; murmured her own good night; listened, over the faint sounds of the telly, to the slow, steady creaking of the stairs, the sound of muffled footsteps as her parents moved around their room.
Eventually, it was quiet: the programming had ended for the night, nothing but the test card and the faint buzz of the television set itself, the clock on the mantlepiece tick, tick, ticking its way into the encroaching day.
It was a long time before she felt she could move.
after
The start of the new term falling, as it did, on a Thursday was an odd choice, but one the students were all grateful for. It meant that they had one day of classes to ease themselves back in, before having a weekend to recover and prepare for work to kick start in earnest on Monday.
Mary had evidently given Marlene and Dorcas the full story of Rafe the Rotter (as he was now referred to, if referred to at all), and when they found her in the Great Hall that first night, they surrounded her like a human safety bubble. None of them wanted to see her upset – although Dorcas said she wouldn't have minded seeing some anger, and if Lily had any, she was more than happy to help her channel it. They let her skate round the subject all weekend and into the following week, didn't think anything of her long silences, her staying in the dorm as much as possible. Mary shot her a sympathetic look when, after breakfast on Tuesday, Potter almost walked right into her. She'd successfully avoided him so far this term, knowing she should apologise but dreading it more than she could express, and the way he dropped his gaze and muttered a quick, nervous apology before scampering away told her that he was probably dreading it just as much. She was happy to avoid it for a while longer, frankly.
She hadn't told anyone about…everything else. It rather seemed as if putting it into words would make it corporeal, fully technicolour. Her friends would want to talk about it, would want to sympathise and hug her and reassure her. It was not something she thought she could cope with at the moment.
By the time the end of the first full week rolled around, she'd managed to get away with not talking to anyone other than her dorm mates, and occasionally the people she sat next to in lessons. Iris Fenwick had sweetly asked how her Christmas was, and had she seen her boyfriend over the break; Lily had replied, perhaps a little tersely, that she didn't have a boyfriend. That had brought that conversation to an abrupt end.
Friday, though, brought about her first prefect duty. She never usually minded spending time with Remus – loved it, in fact. But the boy was intuitive to the point of being almost a mind reader, and she knew it would be a struggle to get through the few hours together without him digging out a painful truth she would have preferred to stay buried.
That was why she met him, outside the portrait hole, with a trepidatious smile. "Evening…"
"Evening," he echoed, and they set off, falling into step easily enough. "It feels like I've hardly spoken to you since the start of term."
That was by design, she thought but didn't say. "Yeah, it's been mad, hasn't it?"
"And only going to get madder," he agreed. "How'd you get on with that essay for Merryton over the hols? I think mine lost its way about half-way through and never found it again."
She snorted. "Knowing your Defence essays, I doubt that," she replied. "I battled through mine. Hopefully she won't tear it to shreds."
"I'm sure she won't."
They shared a brief, knowing grin.
"Good Christmas?" he asked, as they rounded a corner.
"Yeah, fine," she shrugged; at least, walking side by side, he couldn't see her face in full. "The usual. You?"
He was quiet a moment, enough to draw her attention – she looked over at him, seeing a distraction there, an ache unlabelled. Maybe she was in luck…maybe he had his own shit to sift through and wouldn't notice hers. "Yeah, it was…" He paused. "A mixture, I suppose."
She raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"
They reached the staircase, waiting as it moved slowly towards them. "Sirius…wrote me letters, while I was at home, you know…before Christmas," he said. It sounded like each word was a struggle. "Never actually sent them. But he gave them to me for Christmas."
She looked away – it almost felt intrusive, to look at him in that moment. "Interesting present."
"Yeah," Remus agreed quietly. "Well, that's Sirius, isn't it?"
"True," she nodded. The staircase aligned, and they stepped on, heading down to the next floor. "What did the letters say?"
Silence. She wondered, for a moment, if she had overstepped. Then: "That he's sorry. For…what happened."
Lily led the way down the corridor, past flickering torches and yet more empty classrooms. "Had he not said that to you before?"
Remus glanced her way. "I didn't really give him the chance," he admitted.
She nodded, understanding all too well. "How do you feel?" she asked next. "Do you think you can forgive him?"
Another silence, this one somehow heavier than the last. "I don't know," he murmured at last. "I want to. I should…"
"There's no 'should' about it," she pointed out. "You have to do what is right for you."
"It's not just me, though, is it," he said, and that seemed to set off a spark in him: he looked back over at her again. "I know James tried to talk to you, before Christmas – "
"Remus," she sighed, "it's – "
"No, I know he…didn't handle it well," he shook his head ruefully, "but he was telling the truth. I'm sorry I didn't come to you about it myself – I should have done, I was the one who started getting suspicious, not James, but…I didn't want to upset you, and – "
"I know," she interrupted; he stopped walking, and so, she did too. "I know it was the truth."
Remus frowned. "But…you called him – "
"Yes, well, I didn't know then," she allowed, staring resolutely out the window behind him. "But I ran into one of his friends in the holidays." She bit her lip. "Dumped him on the train."
He sighed, moving to stand next to her rather than across from her, his arm looping round her shoulders. "Lily, I'm sorry…"
"It's fine," she said; he cast her a dubious look. "Not…fine, but, you know. I'll get over it." She attempted a smile. "Worse things happen at sea."
Remus raised an eyebrow. "I suppose that's a healthy outlook," he gave her a squeeze. A pause, and she could sense what was coming. "You should maybe talk to James," he said next. "I know he was a wally about it – when isn't he, honestly – but his heart was in the right place. He feels awful."
She nodded dully. "I will," she replied, and it was mostly true. It wasn't like she could avoid him forever. "I know I owe him an apology."
"He doesn't care about that," Remus dismissed with a wave of his free hand. "He's thick-skinned. You've called him worse before." He hesitated; the pause forced her gaze up, trying to understand the look on his face. "I think he's more bothered because…you guys were becoming actual friends."
For a moment, she wasn't sure what to say. It felt as if all too much had been bared, here, a truth that could not be re-covered. "I'll talk to him," she promised, and she sounded as if she meant it. "Soon."
before
By lunchtime on the 1st of January, after only a few hours of broken, restless sleep, all pretences had fallen away. Her parents asked her to sit at the dining table, her dad gripping on to her mum's hand as they told her that Rose was unwell, had been unwell for some time, and the doctor suspected it was cancer. Lily didn't have the heart to tell them she already knew, or at least knew some of it, that maybe they should be more careful with their correspondence if they had wanted to be the ones to break it to her. Instead, she nodded, amazed that she didn't cry, not even when the C word was dropped into the discussion like a ten-tonne weight.
"Does Petunia know?" she asked, knotting her hands on the table in front of her. It felt important, somehow, to keep as still as she could.
Anthony and Rose exchanged a look. "Yes. She…she was visiting when mum had a bit of a turn," her dad replied. "She was there for the initial doctor visits."
The sting of this – ridiculous, so ridiculous, to care that her older sister knew before she did – was, for a moment, more than she could bear. But she swallowed against it. "Right."
Rose looked intolerably sad. "We weren't trying to keep it from you, sweet," she told her. "But you were away at school, and we didn't want to put it in a letter, and then…we just didn't want to ruin your Christmas."
It seemed almost laughable, now, to think of them desperately protecting the so-called sanctity of a religious festival that none of them truly believed in (at least, not beyond putting up a tree and getting merrily drunk by the time the Queen's speech came on the wireless); trying to protect her feelings as if she wasn't nearly seventeen years old, as if life hadn't already thrown plenty of pain and suffering in her path like boulders. (That's a touch melodramatic, Lily, she told herself at that thought, and pressed it down along with the other errant thoughts and feelings.)
"I don't care about Christmas," she said instead. "I care about you."
"I know you do," Rose reached over for her hand. "I'm going to be okay, Lil. You don't need to worry."
Lily couldn't help but turn a disbelieving glance to her father – a 'are you hearing this nonsense?' glance, an appeal for some sense in amongst the wave of unbearable optimism – but he simply gazed back at her, face revealing nothing. Either he was as hopeful as his wife, or he was incapable of voicing any doubts. "She's got a clinic appointment, the day before you go back," he said. "You can come with us, if you'd like."
There weren't many things she would less like to do, but it felt too distant, too precarious a position not to go. If she went, she would at least be armed with facts – surely better than staying at home and letting her brain fill in the gaps. "I will. Thanks," she said, as if he had offered her a cup of tea or a particularly nice slice of cake. "Is there…"
Anthony shook his head before she could even finish her sentence. "Nothing any of us can do but wait and see what the doctor says," he replied. "And I'm sure you've got plenty to do for school in the meantime."
Nothing seemed less important. She nodded. "Yeah," she agreed, and stood up, knowing that if she sat there much longer, she wouldn't be able to hold herself together. "An essay, actually."
"We'll shout when it's time for tea and biscuits," Rose said with the faintest of smiles. It was all terribly English. "Don't work too hard now, sweet."
Lily closed her bedroom door behind her, let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. She stayed there, leaning against the door, for at least twenty minutes before she felt like she could move again.
after
January progressed, the landscape from every window a stretch of seemingly endless white, the sky always grey, heavy with the promise of yet more snow. Lily felt like she was going through the motions: lessons, meals, studying, rest, repeat. Her appetite had waned and sleep was a struggle. Her friends now looked at her with increasing concern, as if she was falling apart before their eyes – surely a gross exaggeration.
One evening, not long after they'd returned from dinner, Marlene plonked herself at the end of Lily's bed, a determined expression on her face. "This isn't just about Rafe, is it?"
Lily looked up from her textbook – in fairness, the words had started to blur together, so it didn't hurt her to stop reading for a bit – and offered a tired smile. "What do you mean?"
Marlene sighed, leaning against the post at the end of the bed. "You're not yourself," she replied. "You've been so quiet. You look…exhausted, all the time."
"Wow," Lily murmured, and raised an eyebrow. "Thanks."
"Obviously you're still gorgeous, that goes without saying," Marlene rolled her eyes. "But my point remains. Clearly something is wrong, and I can't imagine this is all just about that prick and how he treated you."
Marlene was incredibly perceptive: Lily was long past caring about Rafe. Even seeing him draped around Aoife Walsh at the dinner table the night before hadn't really bothered her. At least he'd had the decency to look a bit abashed when she glanced over at them.
No. Rafe was a blip. But the things that really bothered her – churning away, ever present, just under the surface she struggled to maintain – were not things she wanted to talk about. She loved her friends, loved them dearly, but the way she felt at the moment, she'd sooner leap out the dorm window than put a voice to the deep, dark ache inside her.
"It's not about Rafe," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "It's not really anything, Marl. Just…stress, I think." Yes, that seemed a reasonable excuse. "I know exams are a while away, but the pressure is definitely cranking up."
Marlene accepted this with a sympathetic nod. "I know. But it's not worth losing sleep over, Lil. You've got to take care of yourself or you'll go mad."
Lily nodded, managing a small smile that was entirely for her friend's benefit. "You're right. I'll try to pull myself together," she promised.
"Good." Marlene leaned forward and dotted a quick kiss to her forehead, like she was a small child. "Here's something to look forward to, anyway – your birthday's in ten days, and Mare is planning the party to end all parties."
Lily couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, god…"
"What that girl can do with balloons…" Marlene shook her head in wonder. "She's a decorating queen." She shifted to climb off the bed, then paused. "Actually, Mare won't say this because she doesn't want to upset you, but – if you could just talk to Potter again, that would make the party miles easier. We need those fools on side to help sneak in all the alcohol."
It was getting to the point where she couldn't put it off any longer anyway – not least because their Potions project, fast approaching the practical stage, would suffer if she did. "You're right," she agreed, and glanced at her watch. "I'll go and find him now."
"Black said earlier he's in the library," Marlene told her, wandering over to her own bed with a grin. "He was disgusted by the very thought."
Lily rolled her eyes. "Of course he was."
True enough, Potter wasn't in the common room – his merry band of friends were engrossed in some reading by the fireplace, looking almost lost without him – and so she set off through the castle towards the library. His work ethic definitely seemed to have improved this year, despite Sirius' disapproval; on reflection, there were many things about Potter that had changed for the better. Or maybe she just knew him a bit better than she had done before.
Yanking down the sleeves of her thick woolly jumper in a bid to battle the chill in the air, she arrived at the library and made her way through the stacks towards what she considered 'her' study area. As predicted, Potter was there, his table covered in books and parchment, his head bent over one particularly ancient looking tome, hand reflexively lodged in his dark, messy hair. She paused, drawing in a breath as she took in the sight of him, then dropped herself into the chair opposite his. "Hi."
He looked up quickly, blinking in surprise at the sight of her. "Evans! Hi…"
She glanced at the book in front of him. "Hard at work?"
"Aren't I always?" he joked, a little half-heartedly.
She gave him a small smile. "Look, Potter…I want to apologise," she said, just about managing to meet his intense gaze. "For how I reacted, just before the holidays…"
He cringed at the memory. "No, I'm sorry, I handled it all wrong – "
"You were right, though," she said, and he frowned. "You were right, and I was – I was horrible to you…"
He looked pained, as if the sight of her like this was too much to cope with. "Okay, well, apology accepted," he told her, soft, sincere. "And I hope you accept my apology for my utterly unhelpful way of talking to you about it."
She nodded. "Apology accepted," she echoed.
"Did you…?" he asked haltingly.
She knew what he was trying to avoid saying. "Yeah." She tried for a smile. "Told him he and Aoife Walsh deserve each other."
"Good for you," he nodded. "You deserve better than that."
She swallowed, unsure how to respond to such a statement. "Thanks…"
He smiled. "So…we don't have to avoid each other anymore," he said, and she laughed – he always did have a way of cutting through to the heart of the matter. "That'll make life easier."
"Much easier," she agreed. She paused. "Listen, James – "
"Bloody hell, I should've let you go for that book, it was in the back end of beyond," a voice cut through, and they both looked up to see Cadence Dearborn, clutching a textbook and looking peeved. When she saw James had company, though, that expression melted away to a smile instead. "Lily! Hi – sorry, am I interrupting?"
James gave her a grin. "You're fine," he replied, taking the book from her; she fell into the seat next to him, straightening a piece of parchment that Lily could now see belonged to her. They were here…together. "We were just catching up."
"Isn't sixth year a bastard?" Cadence asked Lily. "I feel like I barely recover from one essay and then another four spring up in its place." She shot James a smile, fond and sweet. "Good thing I've got this one around to keep me focused."
James laughed. "No one's ever accused me of helping them focus before," he said, and draped his arm around her so casually that it made no sense, no sense whatsoever, that it could almost take Lily's breath away. "But thanks."
Lily wondered how long this had been going on. How it was that she could have missed it. Well, maybe that was what came of avoiding someone like the plague. They went and found themselves a beautiful girlfriend in the meantime. "I'll let you get back to focusing," she said, even managing a smile as she stood up. "See you…"
"Bye, Evans," James said, Cadence echoing his words.
Lily walked away, only pausing at a discreet distance to look back, as if she was checking that it was real and not a vivid and off-putting hallucination. There at the table, James had leaned in closer now, was murmuring something close to her lips that made Cadence smile, prettily, and close the distance entirely to kiss him.
She turned away – no way in hell did she want to be caught watching them – and felt her cheeks burning, even in the draughty castle corridors, as she made her way back to Gryffindor tower.
before
They stood, the three of them, on the pavement, the biting cold of the air around them like a slap in the face compared with the stuffy warmth of the hospital. Steady feet had carried them out of the consultation room, down the long and winding corridors, out through the waiting room which was one of the saddest places Lily had ever set foot in, out, out, until the ground changed from lino to tarmac, and suddenly, they came to a halt. No one had said anything, no signal to stop, but they all had, as if by some cosmic agreement. Each breath from her mother's mouth was like a tufting cloud, sinking into the space around her, and it became all Lily could look at. Another breath. Another. Another.
Finally, her father found his voice. "We should…" He trailed off, and looked at his wife. Lily wondered what he saw there, if he could only see the pictures the doctor had shown them, the charts and tables with numbers far too high, if he could only see the look on Rose's face when the man had explained, in a quiet but sure tone, that this thing inside her had been building and growing and binding inside her for far longer than they had hoped.
Palliative, was the word he had used.
Latin, she'd thought distantly.
She hoped that wasn't what her father saw. She hoped he, at least, could still see his wife there, under the clawing, naked sadness, the bitter, intense fear.
"The car," Rose said, sounding more steady than Lily expected. She even managed – attempted, anyway – a smile. "It's too cold to stand around here moping."
She fell into step beside her mother, Anthony taking the other side as they walked back to the car park. Rose's arm looped gently through Lily's, her gloved hand curling, gripping on to her daughter's coat as if it might be the only thing keeping her up. Lily kept her gaze trained firmly on the pavement. She knew if she looked up, even looked at her mother's hand on her arm, that she would falter. Fall.
"Back to school tomorrow," Rose said, the car now in sight. School? Hogwarts felt further away than ever. "I bet you haven't even packed yet, sweet."
How could Lily express that she didn't want to go back? That she was scared – no, terrified – to step out of her mum's orbit and find herself untethered forever? That she might say goodbye to her, tomorrow at King's Cross, and have it be the last time she saw her, spoke to her, hugged her?
She couldn't. She wouldn't be able to find the words.
She just nodded, and painted on a smile that they all knew was false. "I'll pack when we get home."
Rose patted her arm gently. "You're a good girl, Lily Evans."
after
6.48pm
Lily didn't expect, on stumbling into the common room, to find party preparations in full swing. Mary stood in the centre of the room, directing streamers and balloons with her wand; Marlene was reckoning with the furniture, presumably to make space for a dance floor; Dorcas looked far too interested in testing each of the different varieties of alcohol available on a table near the stairs.
These things weren't so surprising. Sirius Black, tapping his chin thoughtfully and saying, "no, to the left, Mac – do you want this to look like amateurish shite?" – that was much more surprising.
"Bloody hell," Lily said, more to announce her presence than anything else. "It looks like a party has thrown up in here."
"Lil!" Mary glanced round with a scolding frown. "Get up to the dorm, we don't want to ruin the magic of the night for you!"
"And on your birthday, too," Sirius added, shaking his head with mock solemnity.
"Technically, my birthday isn't until tomorrow," Lily offered. "But I take your point." She paused, glancing over at Marlene. "I can help, you know – "
"No, you can't," Dorcas called over, unscrewing the lid on a bottle containing a bright blue, highly viscous looking liquid and giving it an experimental sniff. "That's not in keeping with the birthday ways."
"Yeah, Evans – piss off," Sirius said, wandering over to sling his arm around her shoulders. "Besides, Pete and Remus are coming soon with the rest of the booze, and James and Cadence will be back from the kitchens any time now. We're all set for many hands making light work."
Lily tried not to visibly react at the mention of Cadence – of James and Cadence, already a pair – and just nodded. "Fine. Okay. I'll go upstairs," she agreed, sliding out of Sirius' embrace and making for the staircase. "You'll fetch me when I'm allowed out?"
"Of course we will," Marlene rolled her eyes. "Now go, make yourself even more beautiful, and leave us alone!"
She paused at the bottom of the stairs, watching her friends for a moment longer, then turned and started to climb. As luck would have it, she knew where Marlene kept an emergency bottle of firewhiskey in the dorm. That would help take the edge off, get her through the night's proceedings.
8.35pm
"You know what?" Sirius said, turning to Mary. She was slumped on the sofa next to him, enjoying the music and, presumably, the buzz that came with the shots of some dubious green liquid they'd all done about ten minutes ago. "We throw a good party, Mac."
She raised an arched eyebrow at him. "First of all," she said, jabbing a finger into his arm, "I threw this party. You just helped with streamer placement. And second of all…it's only been going about an hour."
"Ah, but, we can tell it's already a success," he grinned. Now that James was fairly preoccupied – he liked Cadence, liked her a lot, but there was only so much he could take of watching two people swap saliva and glow at each other – Mary was proving to be an excellent occupier of his time and affection. After the holidays, he'd made sure to apologise to her again for how he'd acted before Christmas; she was effusive in her forgiveness, as he had sort of expected. She was easy company: neither of them expected anything more than friendship from the other, and there was something very calming about that.
"And how can we tell, Mr Black?" she asked.
"Well, look." He pointed first over to the makeshift dance floor, full of writhing, cavorting bodies. "Already dancing like mad." He pointed, next, to Marlene and Dorcas, engaged in a heated battle of a convoluted card game that only they understood. "Those two are edging closer and closer every minute." His finger moved in the direction of the drinks table. "And the birthday girl is finally letting loose!"
Mary followed his gaze, tilting her head a little. "I 'spose she is," she agreed haltingly. They both watched as Lily laughed uproariously at something the bloke next to her had said, pouring herself a generous glass of firewhiskey.
Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Shouldn't she be?"
Mary paused, taking a sip of her own drink. "She's been…off, lately," she replied. "Since Christmas. I saw her over the holidays and she seemed okay – I mean, she was upset and embarrassed about the whole Rafe situation, but otherwise she was fine. But now…"
Sirius scowled at the mention of Rafe. Once Remus had confirmed to them that Lily had dumped Rafe, the Marauders had put into place a few low-level pranks on the seventh year, just to make sure he was put in his place. Never enough for it to ever be pinned to them – the sort of pranks that were so dastardly and yet so benign, like Remus' plot to charm his plates and bowls so all his meals, for a whole week, tasted just ever so slightly burnt. James' efforts were slightly more direct – a firm favourite being charming all the reflective surfaces in the school to howl and beg for mercy whenever Rafe looked in them. That had made for a highly entertaining lunchtime when the preening twat had checked his hair was still tidy in the back of his soup spoon. Happy memories. Sirius had favoured the classics: a stinging hex in a busy corridor, that sort of thing. They had all their bases covered.
Lily hadn't mentioned any of the pranks – he wasn't sure if she was even aware they'd been doing them. They certainly weren't doing it for her praise (or at least, three quarters of the Marauders weren't – you never could tell with James, even with Cadence on the scene) but even some kind of acknowledgement would've been nice.
Maybe that should've been his clue that things with Lily were, as Mary put it, 'off'. She loved to scold them.
"She told Marl it's work stress," Mary continued with a sigh. "But I don't think that's the full story."
He gave her hand a squeeze. "I'll see if I can get her to open up tonight. Maybe having a few drinks will help."
"Maybe," Mary smiled faintly.
He followed her gaze, now, to the dance floor again, where James and Cadence were swaying together, moving far too slowly for the tempo of the music. He watched them, too, for a moment before looking over at Mary – watching her, watching them. "Could've been you, y'know," he said lightly.
She tore her gaze away and shot him a Look, one that had a very unsubtle subtext of fuck off. "No, it couldn't."
"Yes it could," he argued; he did so enjoy an argument. "He was about to ask you out, and then you went off with McMillan."
"I wouldn't have said yes, if he'd asked," she told him. "So I saved us both the embarrassment, didn't I?"
Sirius let out an exaggerated exhale. "And why not?"
She was quiet a moment, then glanced back over towards the drinks table. "Because I love Lily more than I fancy James."
Now, that was interesting. "Are you saying that Evans – "
"She hasn't said as much," Mary was quick to interrupt. "But…I could tell she was finding it hard, when he and I were close. I kept catching her watching us. I think she cares a lot more than she is willing to admit to herself."
He frowned. "Christ, what a mess."
She laughed, softly. "You're telling me," she agreed. "I didn't want to wade into all of that."
"Well, Mac," he slung his arm round her, "for that, I do not blame you." He gave her a quick squeeze, then stood up, offering her his hand. "C'mon. You and I are too fit to be sat here like a pair of lemons. Let's dance."
She couldn't help a bright smile – those dazzling beams were basically her default setting, as far as he could tell. "I thought you'd never ask."
10.17pm
Outside the window, the snow had turned to rain, battering against the glass. Nearly all of the occupants of the common room were completely oblivious to this fact, being better engaged in drinking, dancing, laughing and general merriment.
Remus had done his fair share of merry-making so far that evening – not always a guarantee, with him. He usually enjoyed parties up to a point: the point wasn't fixed, and when he hit it, he hit it and was ready to go to bed, no matter what others said. But until that time, he could be as daft and loud and even wild as the best of them.
He hadn't yet reached the point (or, as James liked to call it, The Bed-Time Apex) but had chosen to give himself a breather, slumped in the window seat, enjoying the coolness of the glass through the thin material of his t-shirt. From that vantage point, he could take in the varying stages of his friends' drunkenness.
Pete was dancing – if indeed it could be called that – with Charlotte Swift, both red-faced and laughing at some unheard joke. Wormtail had informed his friends, gravely, in the manner in which one might tell someone they were about to die, that he and Iris had once more broken up. "Bloody hell, Pete," Sirius had said, "you two have broken up and made up more times than I've had hot dinners." Pete hadn't seemed to mind, and didn't even mind when James had remarked, a few minutes later, that he expected the pair to be back together within a month.
James and Sirius were leading a group in a spirited game of Strip Exploding Snap – Cadence had, quite wisely, Remus thought, immediately added several layers to her outfit before they started playing. No wonder the hat had sorted her into Ravenclaw. They'd all been playing for about twenty minutes, and James was shirtless and sockless, while Sirius had his t-shirt still on, but no jeans. Remus tried not to let his gaze linger over that way for too long.
The birthday girl herself seemed to be stationed at the drinks table, and was currently concocting what looked to be an absolutely lethal cocktail for people to try. Mary stood nearby, sipping butterbeer and watching on with a kind of nervous energy that Remus didn't quite understand. Clearly something more was going on there.
"Lupin!" Dorcas swung into view, and into the space next to him. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and she clutched on to her glass of indeterminate liquor with surprising strength. "Where's that boyfriend of yours?"
Remus fought back the instinct to roll his eyes. "He's not my boyfriend," he replied. They hadn't had that conversation yet – that would require them to actually be more to each other in public. So far, they nodded politely in each other's direction in the Great Hall, or across a classroom, and then pressed wildly up against each other as soon as they were in private. Remus didn't mind too much; he had never been one for public scrutiny. He hoped Owain didn't mind, either. "But he is coming along in a bit. He had prefect duty first."
"Ah, tis the noblest thing of all, to fulfil one's duty," Dorcas nodded wisely.
"I suppose so," Remus agreed with a chuckle. "Not tempted to join in the Strip Exploding Snap match?"
She wrinkled her nose with disdain. "Merlin, no. These people are going to have to work a lot harder than that if they want to see me in my drawers."
"I'll let everyone know," he smirked, "see if they can up their game."
"Too kind of you," she grinned back. She cast her gaze around. "You seen Marl anywhere?"
"Not in a while," he replied, looking around, too. "Last I saw her she was arm wrestling Kasim for some reason."
"They were arguing over who got to choose the next record," she said, as if it were the obvious answer. "Poor Kas. He didn't realise how freakishly strong she is."
"You learn these lessons the hard way," he nodded.
She stood up. "Well, my search continues," she said, patting him lazily on the shoulder. "Wish me luck, young Lupin."
"Good luck, young Meadowes," he offered with a smile.
Barely a minute passed after she wandered into the crowd when another voice brought his attention from the rain outside. "Drink?"
He glanced round to see Sirius there, making it look as if it were perfectly normal to stand around in a t-shirt, boxers and socks, holding two glasses of something disturbingly purple. "It's Evans' creation," Sirius added, handing over one of the glasses. "Seemed rude not to try it."
"Hmm," Remus gave it a sniff. "Well, in the name of not upsetting Lily…" He took a quick swig, wincing as the alcohol burned down his throat. "Christ on a bike, that's awful."
Sirius was pulling a similar face. "She doesn't have a future in bartending, that's for certain." He paused, glanced down at his glass. "Enjoying the party?"
Remus watched him a moment. "Yeah. It's fun," he replied. "You?"
He shrugged. "Oh, you know me," he said. "Any opportunity to get my kit off…"
Remus laughed, and for some reason, took another sip of the disgusting drink. "Oh, um," he started, and was wondering why he'd decided now was a good time to say this – probably something to do with the alcohol. "Thanks for the Christmas present, by the way."
Sirius looked up in surprise. The bloke had probably thought, since Remus hadn't mentioned it in any way by now – over a month after he'd opened it – that Remus was just going to sweep it under the rug. Not an unfair assessment, all told – he'd certainly considered it. At first, he just didn't know how to address the letters, afraid that even the slightest conversation about them would unleash all the whirling, confusing emotions he felt over them. Then, as time went on, it became more strange to not have said anything. And after all, denial was something that Remus excelled at. "Oh," Sirius said. "Um – you're welcome."
There was a long silence, a heavy silence; Remus stared down at his shoes for so long that his vision seemed to swirl and blur slightly. Finally, blinking, he looked up, taking in his friend's pale, worried face. "Pete ate twelve sausages, eh?"
The worry melted into a rush of laughter. "He did – it was terrifying," Sirius replied, shaking his head. "The boy is bottomless."
Remus gave him a small smile, falling quiet again for a moment. "I…thank you," he said, softer this time. "That was…I'm not sure I would've been that brave, to share something like that."
Sirius shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "Yeah, well," he murmured. "Seemed like the least I could do."
He met Remus' gaze, and they stared at each other for a few seconds – maybe it would've been longer, maybe something else might've happened next, because Remus' stomach was fluttering, twisting, his heart thudding – maybe, maybe, maybe, but they wouldn't find out, because that was when Owain appeared.
"I'm here, at last," the boy grinned, raking his fingers through his blonde hair. He was too busy taking in the scene around him to notice Remus and Sirius hurriedly look away from each other. "Fucking hell, you Gryffindors go in hard, eh?"
"We do," Remus confirmed, standing up from his spot at the window. "How was patrol?"
Owain shrugged. "Oh, fine," he turned back to Remus with a smile, and a glint in his eye. "Now, I think I recall you promising me a tour of your dorm…?"
Remus blushed – and hoped desperately that in the dim light of the party, no one noticed – and shot a quick, almost nervous glance at Sirius before he took Owain's hand. "So I did," he said. He looked back at Sirius, handing back the glass that he had brought him. "See you in a bit, Pads."
"See you, Black," Owain gave Sirius a wink, which was all the impetus Remus needed to quickly pull him away, through the crowd and towards the dormitory stairs. And as tempted as he was to look back, he didn't.
11.56pm
"You have to go?" James asked, not minding that he sounded a bit whiney – he could blame that on the alcohol.
Cadence gave him a fond smile from her position, draped across his lap. Her fingers traced gentle circles at the nape of his neck, and as she leaned closer, he could smell the distinctive zesty scent of her perfume. "Sorry," she murmured, before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "But I promised Lam and Luce that I would be up bright and early with them tomorrow to finish our Arithmancy essays, and I am a horror without at least eight hours sleep."
He let his thumb skate delicately across the strip of bare skin that had appeared between her jeans and strappy black top. They hadn't done much more than kiss since getting together, maybe a bit of fumbling above the clothes (they were only human) – but he had to admit, he'd rather hoped that the buzz of the party might carry him over to the next stage. Or, under, might be the more accurate way to put it. Still, he knew when he was beat, and in fairness, he was perfectly capable of clearing his system by himself. "I find it hard to believe that you could ever be a horror," he told her, and it was true – she was just so nice. Not in a bad way, or a boring way: she was fun, she had a bit of a wild side, as New Year's Eve had shown. But she also cared, intensely, for her friends and her family, and he could see that she was starting to share that care, that affection, with him now too. "But I see your point."
She snuck in another kiss, one that lingered this time, and her fingers raked softly through his hair in a way that gave him very particular feelings. Finally, before he could do something embarrassing like groan into her lips, she pulled back and gracefully shifted off his lap. "I had fun, though," she smiled down at him. "Thanks for inviting me."
"I had fun, too," he replied, standing up as well. "Here, I'll walk you to your tower."
"Ever the gentleman," she shot him a grin, lacing her fingers through his as they headed for the portrait hole.
After a few more long, lingering kisses goodnight outside the Ravenclaw tower entrance, James turned and headed back through the silent corridors. Prefect duties were long over by now, and a glance at the map had told him that Filch was preoccupied down in the dungeons, so he knew he could amble back and take his time.
He didn't expect to find Lily, sat on the floor, leaning against the wall next to the Fat Lady's portrait, on his return. "Evans?" he frowned slightly; she tilted her head up in an arced movement that suggested exactly how much she'd had to drink that night. "You alright?"
"Who, me?" she asked, and laughed. Her shock of red hair had come undone from the complicated 'do she'd worn most of the evening, and the curls hung across her face as she looked down, presumably to locate her glass which sat, half-empty, on the floor next to her. "I'm fine!"
He paused, glancing at the portrait – the Fat Lady raised her eyebrows in an expression of, don't ask me – before he lowered himself to the ground opposite her. "How come you're sat out here?" he asked next.
She pushed her hair back with a hint of aggravation, as if the hair had a mind of its own and was out to annoy her. "Wanted some fresh air," she said. "Was going to go for a walk."
He looked down the corridor. "You didn't get very far."
"No, well," she sighed, and rolled her eyes. "Thought I'd just sit down instead. Much less energy required."
He watched her, taking in the smudge of her mascara, the dark shadows under her eyes that no amount of makeup could conceal, the slump of her shoulders. Her nails, normally painted evenly and in an ever-changing array of colours, were chipped and flaking a dark, dangerous shade of red.
Looking at her like this, he couldn't help but think he wasn't really looking at her.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice quiet even in the quiet of the corridor.
She didn't answer right away – and when she did, it wasn't an answer, but a question of her own. "How long have you and Cadence been dating?"
He blinked, surprised at this line of questioning. "Well – we sort of got together over the holidays," he replied.
Lily looked up at him then, almost squinting at him, as if she was looking into the sun. "She's lovely, isn't she," she said, picking up her glass again. "I mean, I don't really know her well. But she seems lovely."
James didn't know why he felt so uncomfortable, so unsure. He never usually felt quite so off-balance around Lily – at least, not like this. "She is," he agreed.
"Good for you guys," she added, raising her glass in toast. "What an attractive couple."
He raised his eyebrows. "Um…thanks?" he chuckled awkwardly, and clambered to his feet, holding out his hand to her. "C'mon. I reckon you should go to bed."
"Pfff," she rolled her eyes, but accepted his hand nonetheless; she managed to stand up with more grace than James had been expecting. "The night is young, Potter – don't be such a square."
From the way she was swaying, slightly, it seemed the sensible thing to do to wrap his arm gently around her, guiding her towards the portrait hole. He muttered the password and then helped Lily into the common room. "Not trying to be a square," he replied.
"Quadrilateral Potter," she muttered, leaning into him. "That's…what I'm gonna call you."
"Okay," he agreed, catching Mary's eye from across the room. She was out of her seat and over to them in seconds. "Look! It's Mary!"
"Mare," Lily sighed, a tired, sad smile on her face. "Did you know that Potter's a square?" She reached up to clumsily cover James' ears, not very effectively since he heard her add, at a hiss, "a square with a girlfriend!"
"That's good to know," Mary smiled patiently, peeling Lily off of James and shooting him an apologetic look. "How about a lovely glass of water?"
"Mmm," James offered brightly, "water!"
"Ugh," Lily shot him a glare. "You're both squares!"
"C'mon, you," Mary linked arms with Lily and started guiding her towards the stairs. "The fun is really happening up in the dorm…"
James watched them go – he could hear Lily saying, "is it really?" in that sweet, guileless way that she only had when drunk – and couldn't seem to tear his gaze away, even when they were long out of sight.
"Weird party," Sirius said, appearing at his side.
James nodded. "Very weird," he agreed.