A/N- I love you guys. Thank you for the kind messages and inquiries and follows and reviews and reading this even. This is really long, I hope it makes up for some of this very long wait.
Chapter 13: Hermione, Maybe
.oOo.
Sunday, October 24th, 1999
[7 days until the ball]
.oOo.
Lily Evans tried not to cringe as, in her haste, her lab notebook slid off the edge of the table, her luck sizzling away in the mess of a cauldron she had been meaning to throw out.
"Professor Slughorn, what a surprise!" she exclaimed, turning around to face the door. Desdemona, as she had named her fanged familiar, slithered under the table and out of sight, journal in its mouth. And Draco always wonders why we let you hang about, you brilliant thing, she thought fondly.
"Ms. Granger, I hope I didn't startle you," he said, hands up, "You wouldn't happen to know where the bezoar for class demonstration is, would you?" he asked, and Lily grimaced.
"I'm sorry sir, I really did mean to put it back," she said, pulling it out from her bag. "Patil and I were up late last night and I didn't want to wake you to ask. I really do think we're making headway with the vaccine approach," she said, just as one of the cauldrons in the back began to spew purple smoke. "We call it Pompeii."
"Not a problem my dear, but I am sure you had it around for emergencies, as human trials would be very irresponsible."
"Of course," she lied, thinking about how she and Draco had taken shots of a newly modified Dreamless Sleep they had been working on earlier in the week. Eager to change the subject, she pulled a folder out of her bag. "I've graded the fifth years, the poor things, if you want to turn them back." Slughorn didn't look exactly pleased.
"Ms. Granger, there is actually another reason I wanted to drop by. You've clearly been hard at work here," he gestured to the room, "but shouldn't you be participating in the pre ball festivities like the rest of the students? Mr. Finnegan, I've heard, has taken on the task of the after party."
Lily didn't remember much about him, but she had heard he was inclined to explosives, so it was bound to be a good time. "Well, I'm sure he can handle it," she said with a shrug. "I'm better at use here, anyways."
"Nonsense," he chided, "Although I do think it may be time for you to find a hobby of sorts."
"A hobby?" Lily asked, wrinkling her nose. "Professor Slughorn, I assure you I am in no shortage of a balanced lifestyle."
"Perhaps not, but what of your friends? Mr. Malfoy, for example? They do seem to take after you," he said, and Lily frowned. Just because she was literally preparing to fight for her life upon her return, didn't mean Padma and Draco had to as well.
"You're right," she began.
"Of course I am!" he said joyously, casting a stasis charm on the room. "Now go, you are officially banned from this room until after the ball."
"But sir!" she cried, and Slughorn shook his head.
"I will not hear a word of it Ms. Granger, you must go out and participate. It's good for you," he said, and when Lily sighed, Slughorn gave her a reproachful look. "Come now, Ms. Granger, everyone is making attempts at normalcy. Even Mr. Potter with this ball of his. You owe it to him to at least try," he said, getting up to leave.
"I suppose you're right," she conceded, knowing that Hermione Granger couldn't exactly argue with that logic, given the morbid anniversary it was on. Lily Evans certainly could, but she wasn't exactly, well, alive. "Professor," she asked, poking her head out into the hall after him. "Did they go to the ball together? Harry's parents, I mean?"
"You know," he replied, looking thoughtful. "In theory, they must have, but I really can't remember at all."
.oOo.
"Where's Hermione?" Padma asked, patting Desdemona on the head as she walked by. "And why the fuck is the Weasley girl still lurking about? What have you done to the poor thing to make her distrust you so much?"
"The usual, I suspect. My aunt torturing her best friend, my father getting her possessed, my utter disdain for the Weasleys?" he listed distractedly, waving the knife he had been using to cut up newt tails. "I don't know, take your pick."
"And Granger?" Padma asked, plucking it from his hand and tossing it in the sink. "I think that's enough for now."
"Gone for the week."
"How?" Padma asked, her tone sharp as she whirled around and glared at him. Now the excess of newt made sense.
"The girl's got a bad reputation when it comes to working herself ragged," he shrugged, keeping his eyes on the book he had been thumbing through. "I guess Slughorn noticed."
"Little Lord Fauntleroy, a tattle tale at heart," Padma said. "You have three minutes to convince me why this isn't a terrible fucking idea," she stated, knowing damn well what Draco was going to try and convince her of. Up until this point, she had been willing to somewhat tolerate his ridiculous fantasies, knowing there was no way he could actually do anything while Hermione was around, seeing as it would defeat the purpose.
"Patil, you're the smartest girl I know-" he started.
"Not Granger?" she asked, and he cocked a silvery eyebrow. "Right, foolhardy Gryffindor complex. She'd do anything for a friend." Padma sat down heavily, resting her chin on a fist. "What does that make us?"
"Cautious." Draco said. "Sensible. You're not any less of a friend, Patil. Just less of an idiot, maybe. Don't you think Granger would do the same if the situations were flipped? Wouldn't you want her to?"
This, Padma had to consider.
"I just think you're overreacting, Malfoy. I don't know if I should indulge it."
"I'm not saying I'm right about this, Padma. I'm just saying that we should know. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened in this sham of a school, and everyone has got their heads too far up the Potter Parade to notice. We can't just do nothing."
"Not again?" Padma asked coolly, evidently hitting a nerve with the usually composed heir, who set his jaw. "Fine. I'll help. But only for the academic experience, and not because I think you're right."
"Of course," he agreed, the unsettling shreds of doubt left unresolved in the air between them.
.oOo.
After realizing that neither Slughorn nor McGonagall remembered really anything about Lily her last year, she had locked herself in her room with the compact, hoping to knock some sense into Hermione. Of course, her attempts seemed to be in vain.
"You know Granger, I'm beginning to think you have it out for me. First with that ridiculous hair-"
"What's wrong with my hair?" Hermione asked, reaching a hand up to smooth out the plait she had put Lily's red mane in.
"—and now with this? It's like you're trying to kill me."
"Well, it isn't killing if you're already dead, is it?" Hermione asked, and Lily barked out a laugh. The girls were in a constant tug of war between wanting to strangle the other, and finding comfort in the only other person with whom they could be themselves.
"That's what I'm saying! Who says that I'm your Lily Evans? You have to admit I don't sound much like her. Married to Potter, for fuck's sake." She knew Hermione, who was constantly lamenting how backwards Lily's life apparently was, secretly agreed. "Multiverse, Granger. Schroedinger warned us ages ago."
"I don't care who said it, Evans," Hermione stuttered. Lily assumed she might care a little more if she had placed who Schroedinger was, but she suspected this was not the time for a lesson in physics. "That's absurd."
"That's what you wrote about Divinations, isn't it? Even though Trewlaney is obviously a seer. I think you dropped the class because you couldn't stand that the Brown girl figured out how to be the teacher's pet and vaguely tolerable all at once."
"Hilarious, Evans. You know, if you had tried that about 5 years ago, I may have fallen for it. Why is it again you have the maturity of a 14 year old?"
"Why do you act like you've already been sealed in a crypt? Even if you're convinced I'm your Lily, it's obvious we have an opportunity here! We get to write the history they can't remember" Lily cried, trying to reign in her temper. Frank, she knew, would have reprimanded her gently, don't let them know how badly they get under your skin, Lily, he would say. Of course, this wasn't your run of the mill negotiation. This was about their lives, so she figured her makeshift advisor would let this one slide. Hermione only looked angry for a moment, before she sighed deeply and ran her hands over her face.
"I'm sorry, Lily I really am," she said, her voice soft and low. "Are you doing alright, with you know, everything?" The older girl asked, referring, Lily assumed, to her fast approaching death-a-versary.
"What do you care, Granger?" Lily's eyes narrowed into slits. "I'm already dead."
.oOo.
Monday, October 24th, 1977
7 days until the ball
.oOo.
Talks with Lily had recently become more tolerable. The two had come to an acceptance that neither was willing to help the other, and thus avoided the topic all together, instead relating harmless stories from their day. It was this Slughorn situation that had thrown Lily in a tizzy again. Not that Hermione could blame the girl, of course, but Lily's talks of physics and old magic and planetary alignments meant nothing, at the end of it all. Despite being in Lily's body, it was always Harry's eyes she'd have to answer to in the mirror, and it had been a longstanding truth of hers to do whatever she had to in order to see them open another day. Although she was terrified of what it meant in the long run, Hermione would simply have to wait until Lily came to her senses, or continue to live her perplexing life, one currently made tolerable by her company and the never ending amount of busywork the ball seemed to have brought upon her. Today, it was assembling boutonnieres for the Muggleborns.
"Damn," Hermione swore under her breath when her shaky hands closed around something sharp.
"You okay?" Sirius asked from a workbench, where he peered over a small cluster of baby's breath, trying to wrap the delicate stems with a shimmery ribbon that kept slipping out of his hands.
"Just knicked myself on a thorn," she sighed, reaching for one of the blooms that had fallen off to the side, then deciding to fall back onto the damp, packed earth of the greenhouses. Lily had apparently started the boutonniere tradition years back. It was sweet, Hermione had to admit; delivering them had become one of her favorite parts of the pre-dance insanity that had been consuming her life the past few weeks. But, of course, as she was quick to learn, nothing in politics was ever quite as simple as kindness. She hadn't missed the way other girls, young ones especially, looked on in curiosity, some jealousy, when the Head Girl and a boy who was arguably Hogwarts' most eligible bachelor made their rounds at dinner. It was much more interesting than what they were learning in Muggle Studies, anyways.
"Let me see," he demanded, coming over. Hermione held her hand aloft, snatching it back when Sirius made to put the wounded finger in his mouth.
"What is wrong with you?" she cried, exasperated, and he shrugged.
"Kiss it to make it better?' he tried, sitting down next to her. "Good spot, Evans. It's cool down here."
"It's cool most places right now, Black. It's almost November," she replied. She and Sirius had become reluctant (on his part, anyway) conspirators. When it came to Camelot, as Sirius called them, Hermione was his best ally, standing by him on days he decided he wanted their approval, or making excuses for him when he, disgusted with himself, skived off. In return, he took it upon himself to try and "help" Hermione. While work remained largely undone, she was happier.
"I had no idea," Sirius replied, rolling his eyes. "How many more of these do we have?"
"Only a couple. Thank you for finishing up the sixth years' last night, by the way."
"You're joking, Evans. That wasn't me. I was lending my talents to our fine republic in another way."
"And what way is that?" Hermione asked.
"Sneaking alcohol into the castle for the after party of course. We need to order more Firewhiskey though, so we'll make a run later this week too. I'd invite you to come along, but you know, Head Girl and all. James is already right pissed about it—"
"Understandably so" she interrupted. She, frankly, was relieved that she would not be able to attend what was apparently the one time houses intermingled for a single outrageous party, but she imagined James would not be so pleased.
"—so I'd appreciate it if I didn't have to hear it from your end too."
"Fine," Hermione replied, closing her eyes and massaging her temples. "Go. It's not as if there are only four or five plausible places you could be holding a party so big anyways, or that Mary doesn't already know every nook and cranny of this castle. It's really quite ridiculous that you think any of this is a secret—Black?" she asked, opening her eyes and realizing that he was long gone. The help had been good while it lasted.
.oOo.
Alice and Mary stood outside the greenhouse, watching the scene inside with mild disgust.
"She's gone mad," Mary whispered, watching Lily lay back on the ground. "The ball is in days and we've literally given her the easiest job there is and she still isn't done."
"I feel like we should just put her out of her misery," Alice whispered back, and Mary looked at her in surprise. "Well I don't mean axe her, obviously! Just, you know, let her retire, or something."
The two girls managed at least two seconds before bursting into laughter.
"Ah, that's a good one, Al," Mary said after gaining her composure, linking arms with Alice.
"Wasn't it?" she asked, the two making their way back to the castle. "I am glad she's making friends though, I'm surprised, honestly. Didn't think she'd want to put you in a weird position."
"What, because I've never had to be around one of my exes before?" Mary asked, and the two girls burst into laughter again, leaving the curious pair behind them.
.oOo.
Wednesday, October 27th, 1999
[4 days until the ball]
.oOo.
As much as she loved Hermione, because really she did, Ginevra Weasley did not have time for her idealism. No matter how, Hermione taking Draco Malfoy to the dance was not going to go over well. To be honest, Ginny had been relieved when Hermione told her Draco said he wasn't going. "What a shame," she had said, trying to sound sympathetic, but Hermione just shrugged in the easy confidence she seemed to have adopted lately. "I'm sure he'll come around," she had replied. She apparently was still sure, even though he still hadn't changed his mind, and Ginny almost had to tackle her earlier before she let it slip to Ron.
"It's just a date, Ginny, I don't see why we don't just tell him," Hermione asked as she held Ginny's dress in her lap, stitching together a last minute alteration. The two were stationed on her bed, Crookshanks snoozing in Ginny's lap.
"If you were going to tell him, you should have done so ages ago!"
"Well I didn't know it was going to be a problem until recently!" How Hermione didn't consider going to the ball with Draco Malfoy would be an issue, Ginny really had no idea, but not wanting to jeopardize their rekindling friendship, Ginny didn't comment.
"Trust me, if you tell him now, he'll be boiling from mulling it over the next few days. If he sees you there, you'll at least have the I'm-a-mature-adult-who-can-handle-this-stage on your side."
"And how long will that last?" Hermione asked, and Ginny considered.
"Depends on how long you dance with Malfoy," she replied, and Hermione laughed, handing back her dress. "If you must tell him, don't say it so matter of factly. Ease him into it, alright?"
"It is a matter of fact," Hermione responded stubbornly, but at Ginny's expression she sighed. "For you, I might consider."
"Thanks, Mione. You're a lifesaver," she said.
"Why don't you stay?" Hermione asked, handing back her dress. "Hannah Abbot is coming by later, apparently she and Neville have gotten into a tiff and she wants to look so good he'll never forgive himself. Plus, Padma and Draco are brewing so you won't have to see them if you don't want to."
"I'll have to pass. Duty calls," Ginny sighed regretfully. "Are we still on for breakfast later?"
"If I'm not up," Hermione said, opening the door to let Ginny out, "You have full permission to drag me out of bed."
"Will do," Ginny replied, laughing as Hermione reached out for a kiss on the cheek.
"Oh and Ginny," Hermione added as she walked away, and Ginny turned around to where Hermione was standing leisurely against the still open door. "Stop following Draco around," she said. "Nobody likes a sneak." It was said with a teasing lilt, of course, but Ginny was left wondering how Hermione knew she had been sneaking around the boy she still didn't trust any farther than she could throw. Something about her easy smile left Ginny unsettled even as she ran into Harry moments later.
"Hey, Gin," Harry greeted with his lopsided grin. "Everything alright?"
"Fantastic," she replied weakly. Harry looked at her skeptically. "Just ball stuff, it'll be over soon. What are you up to?"
"Ron and I are stopping by 'Mione's office, apparently she's got a snake and my Parseltongue is getting a little rusty."
"You can't!" Ginny panicked. The last thing she needed was to deal with a Ron and Draco showdown.
"Why not?" Harry asked slowly, the genuine concern creased in his furrowed brows both comforting and infuriating. Couldn't he just be negligent for a day? She didn't want to lie to him.
"Well, I was just there, and, the snake. It's not there, you see." This, at least, was true, Hermione let the thing roam free in the Forest whenever it pleased and Ginny could have sworn it got bigger and bigger every time she saw it. How she and Padma had kept it a secret from Draco for so long, she had no idea.
"Oh! That's alright then. Maybe I'll just drop by to say hello to Mione."
"You can't do that either. Neither of you. Because I need your help."
"Oh! Sure Gin," he said, and Ginny set about rounding up her brother and dreaming up a task to put them on, cursing her friend under her breath the whole while.
.oOo.
After replacing the candles in the Great Hall (a terrible, tedious task only the daughter of Molly Weasley could assign), Harry and Ron had finally made it to Hermione's lab, where an ever icy Padma Patil handed them a rather heavy box and told them not to bungle this, lest they get caught. Harry supposed, after the mess that was the Yule Ball, she had her right to keep things cordial. He and Ron hadn't exactly been ideal dates. It wasn't personal, either. She and a few other Ravenclaws, Ginny had told him, ran what had become an underground infirmary during that last year he had not been present, and admist the hell that the Carrows had put them through, she had hardened and emerged more beautiful and damaged than ever. Despite Ginny and Ron's disbelief that Hermione had chosen to spend so much of her time with someone so seemingly stiff, Harry could see exactly why the two got along.
"D'you reckon she hates me," Harry asked Desdemona, a curiously named snake if you asked him. Since the end of it all, his natural gift for Parsletongue had begun to disappear, so conversation thus far had been difficult.
"Does she think of you…a better question to asssskkk, perhapsss," the snake replied, now out of its box and curled comfortably around one of his bed posts.
"I didn't ask for the sass, alright?" Harry paused for a moment, trying to remember the correct word. "Is she…nice to Hermione?"
"Maybe." Harry look at the snake in alarm.
"What do you mean maybe? She may be nice?"
"Maybe Hermione," it replied, not making much sense at all. Semantics were difficult when everything sounded like hissing.
"I really should start writing this stuff down," he said to himself. Hermione had been nagging him all summer to document the language before it slipped out of his grasp. "Do you think Ginny'll let me get a snake of my own?" he asked, but the snake did not reply, slithering under the darkness of his bed to take a nap.
.oOo.
Sunday, October 30th, 1977
[14 hours until the ball]
.oOo.
"Oi, Padfoot!" Remus Lupin exclaimed, grabbing his friend by the shoulder and shaking him roughly. "Where have you been?"
"For fuck's sake, Moony," a groggy Sirius replied, shoving his friend away. Last he remembered, he had been with Lily…ah yes, that made sense. He had been with her all afternoon to help replace candles in the Great Hall, and had hightailed it out of her company as fast as he could, lest Lily try and rope him into another one of her seemingly endless tasks, or even worse, a lecture. He vastly preferred it when James was the victim of her moral tirades. Of course, that hadn't happened in ages, and now Sirius was beginning to understand why her indifference seemed to drive James crazier than anything else. Lily was a difficult woman, but she was so sure of herself and her judgement that Sirius could be damned by Merlin himself and she'd still yank him up by the ear and insist he get his arse to work. She and her friends were carving themselves a spot on the sun and for reasons he (and judging by the looks he received from McGonagall and Frank and about everyone else) couldn't quite grasp, she was offering to take him along for the ride. He just wasn't sure he could accept.
"Well?" Remus asked impatiently. "We've got to go! Orders in and I don't trust Aberforth to sit on that much alcohol and not touch it." The Marauders (minus James, of course, who was not allowed to attend as Head Boy) were putting together what was going to be the best after party Hogwarts had ever seen.
"I could ask you the same thing, Mary nearly tore me a new one looking for you." Where Remus was considered the most dutiful, studious of the Marauders, he was the very least of Lily's friends, it was a dichotomy that Sirius was still having trouble wrapping his brain around.
"That'll be her, of course, you know the woman," he dismissed casually, dragging Sirius out of bed. "Anyways, you completely missed DADA Friday, Prewett finally got knocked down a peg."
"By who?" After the incident earlier in the year the Marauders had decided Prewett was too volatile for a newly emancipated Sirius with an inheritance on the line to tackle. It was about time someone do what needed to be done. "Was it Alice? The girl's a sweetheart but I'm telling you I bet she'd rip his eyes out if he tried it on Frank."
"Better. It was James."
"Our James?" Sirius asked in surprise. Burdened by the Head Boy title, James had been doing his best to stay out of the warpath of adults who did not agree with his assignment, their very own Minerva included. He couldn't imagine Prewett was particularly pleased about it, either. "Tell me it was something stupid."
"Our James?" Remus mocked back. "Of course not." He regaled the details of their earlier lesson to Sirius, who was torn.
"Oh fuck Evans," he whispered under his breath, because he knew perfectly well it was the Fates' talk of the importance of reputation and futures and connections that barred him from being anything other than wholly delighted. When Remus looked at him questioningly, he sighed. "Why is it that you're allowed to be both?"
"Handsome and brilliant? I couldn't say."
"Shut up," Sirius replied, shoving his friend. "I mean, you're one of us, and one of them. Lily's people."
Remus slowed his gait and turned to his friend. "Padfoot, you can't, she's not. How do I —"he sighed deeply. "You wouldn't want in with them, anyways. It's a ridiculous amount of work. Great people, of course, but I can hardly bring myself to care so much about the future half of the time, I don't know how you'd manage it." Remus laughed. "Be happy it's just a dance."
"And I'm just her date," Sirius said, trying to keep the bitter edge out of his voice. "Of course. What do you say about cracking into one of those cases early, eh?"
.oOo.
[13 hours until the ball]
Before James could stomp out of detention dramatically as he would have hoped, he caught sight of Marlene McKinnon sitting in a window, and knowing better than to blow off his date to a dance, he walked over.
"Come to make sure you can still write home to Mum about Head Boy? I'm not so stupid as to put that in jeopardy, you know."
"I'm going to need you to take it down about four levels, Jamie," she answered, laughing exasperatedly at his hostility. "I didn't come here to lecture you. And what makes you think I care about your title? Or tell my mum about it? If I were to write home to my mother about anybody, I'd do better than Head Boy," she sniffed.
"But could you do better than a Potter?" he asked. "Given that Frank's already practically married, and everyone else is boring or old or utterly useless?" They were both acutely aware of the politics that went on with among Pureblood circles, Marlene's family being just out of reach of the elite. An arrangement to a family as deeply entrenched in British Wizarding culture as the Potters would make her untouchable. Of course, neither had any intention of such a thing.
"Maybe not, but could you do better than a date to a dance who knows you'll be staring at another girl the whole night?" Marlene retorted, and James grimaced.
"Could you not start it with Evans? You know, especially considering you're supposed to be my date," he mumbled, and Marlene made a wretching sound.
"Oh for Niviane's sake, Potter, you've been my date to dances since we were twelve, why should it be different at school? We are friends spending time together allowing others to come to conclusions," she said primly. "So if you want to pretend to be over her with Sirius, that is fine by me, but don't insult me."
"You know I don't mean to insult you, Marls," he sighed. She was in many ways, he knew, doing him a favor; it wasn't worth the argument. Not while she had the upper hand, anyways, since James wasn't sure how exactly their sham of a courtship benefited her, since she didn't have anything to prove.
"I know. And I shouldn't push you to admit things to me you haven't to yourself." she replied, laughing when James made a face. "But will you at least tell me what that scene in DADA was?"
"I thought you weren't here to lecture me," James replied.
"I'm here to thank you, actually. It was entirely unnecessary and irresponsible of you."
"Is there a 'but' somewhere in there? After which you sing me glowing accolades?" She shot him a withering expression and he relented. "He's just so rude to you, Marls! Evans hasn't shown up all week and he hasn't said shit to her or herfriends."
"Look, James," Marlene said gently. "I can defend myself against some has-been Auror with anger issues, okay? And be nice to Lily. She's got a lot going on, Head Girl and all."
"And I don't? I'm Head Boy! Frankly I don't understand why everyone lets her get away with this shite. If I didn't show up to class, Minnie would have my head mounted above her desk."
"Maybe Prewett's now," she replied, taking James' hand and pulling him into an alcove away from prying eyes. "You swear you won't tell anyone?" she asked, and James nodded. Marlene ran a hand through her hair, looking nervous. "Lily hasn't quite been herself lately."
"This is my problem because?"
"James!" she exclaimed. "I am trying to be serious. Frank says she hasn't even written home." James' eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"You mean the girl who staged a sit in when she found out Muggle parents couldn't come to tour the grounds?" he asked, trying to keep the worry that was creeping up inside his gut from coloring his voice. He thought back to the night she had slept in his bed; the crying, the nightmares. He had, in true Potter fashion, thrown his wealth at the problem and forgotten about it completely. "Maybe she's just grown apart, or something." It was weak even to his own ears.
"Unlikely. She's got a sick mum at home." When James' expression turned to one of mild panic, Marlene shook her head. "Look, I'm not telling you this so you feel bad, and I'm certainly not saying you have to coddle her. As if your lot accepts help from anyone anyways," she lamented, mostly to herself. "Gryffindors. Stubborn to a fault, all of you. Anyways, just don't make her life any harder than it has to be, alright?"
"Fine," he grumbled, not wanting to be pulled into her affairs again. "But if I have to cover one more of her night rounds with no notice, I swear to Merlin I—"
"You won't have to," Marlene replied emphatically, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'll talk to her, okay? I know you're trying, Jamie," she said with an expression akin to tenderness. It was just then that Prewett and McGonagall walked by, an array of decorations charmed to follow them. Prewett barely looked in their direction before he dragged James out of the alcove by his ear.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor," he spat, and James threw his arms in the air.
"We weren't even doing anything!" he exclaimed, irritated that it was Lily once again who had inadvertently gotten him in trouble. "Minnie, help me out, here!"
"There will be plenty of time for canoodling at the Ball, Mr. Potter," she replied. "Come along now, there is work to be done."
"And Lily is nowhere to be seen," he whispered under his breath. "Duty calls," he said to Marlene. "I'll pick you up from the tower tomorrow?"
"I look forward to it," she replied, shooing him off. It wasn't until he was around the corner he heard Marlene's footsteps hurrying to catch up with him.
"Oh, and Jamie," she said, and in something close to sentimental, she looked at him and said: "You can wear the hat."
"I knew you'd come around!" he exclaimed, picking her up and twirling her in the air, before running off as Prewett's angry "Potter!" echoed through the halls.
.oOo.
[10 hours until the ball]
James Potter laughed when, later that night, he came around the corner and bumped into Marlene McKinnon on his way to sign in for rounds.
"I thought you were going to talk to her?"
"And I thought you weren't going to cover any more of her shifts?"
"Well I'm not heartless, Marlene!" James scoffed indignantly, shaking his head but offering her an elbow. The two walked in amicable silence. That was, until she looked up at him with a shit eating grin.
"You know what was heartless?"
"What?"
"You don't have to call me sir, Professor," Marlene drawled, mimicking James from earlier that week, still reveling at how Prewett had turned a lurid shade of beet red, nearly drawing his wand on Potter. "I can't believe you actually said that to him, you nut!" she laughed.
"I wouldn't tease if I were you, Prefect McKinnon," James sing-songed, using his lead to steer her towards the Great Hall.
"What are you going to do, Head Wanker? Sic Prewett on me?"
"No," James said, throwing open the doors to a supply closet off the main dining space, eliciting a gasp from Marlene. "Worse. You're going to help me with decorations," he announced catching her by the waist before she could run off.
"Let me go, you urchin!" Marlene laughed, struggling against his grasp and knocking him into a box of confetti. "Or at the very least, feed me first."
"A girl after my own heart." James shook his head, trying to get the bits of colorful foil out of his unruly mop. It was no particular secret that James liked to snack while he worked. "To the kitchens?"
.oOo.
Saturday, October 30th, 1999
[9 hours until the ball]
.oOo.
"For fucks sake, Potter," Lily Evans whispered harshly when Harry let her go. "You nearly scared me to death!" She hadn't the time to make a sound when a hand covered her mouth, another on her waist, and she was dragged into an alcove against a hard chest. She tried to wriggle out of its grasp, but was rendered effectively immobile. It was only when a curiously marked tabby cat trotted down the halls that Lily realized what was going on.
"Oh please," Harry said, unaffected, "if you were really scared, I would have been dead by now. Are you going down to the kitchens?" he asked, and Lily nodded. "Good. Wouldn't have done us any good to let McGonagall send us back to bed."
"Can she do that?" Lily whispered as the two hurried down the hall, and Harry shrugged.
"Probably not, but we might as well let her. She's getting old, you know," he replied, dodging a slap from Lily as they climbed through the giggling pear into the yellow warmth of the Hogwarts kitchen. Lily was pleased to see that some of the house elves with whom she made acquaintance were still employed at Hogwarts, but refrained from reaching out for hugs, lest she startle them.
"We're not interrupting anything, are we?" Harry called towards the arrangements of high tables the elves allowed, and Lily laughed when she realized they had stumbled on Ron and Peony sharing treacle tarts. Peony looked at the three adults and slumped her shoulders.
"I assume you'll have me leave?" she asked, pouting when Lily only replied with a pointed look. "Alright then, she said, hopping down from the chair and trotting out of the room.
"Who is-shouldn't someone go with her?" Harry asked, bewildered by the presence of the little thing.
"She'll be fine," Lily said, waving it off. "Especially since she is just hiding in the hallway and hasn't actually returned to her common room," she sang, waiting until her footsteps faded away. "If you're not careful, Ron, she's going to be entirely smitten with you."
"Don't be ridiculous. She sought me out because I'm the tallest person she knows and she can't reach the pear herself." He slid the plate of pastries towards Harry and Lily. "What brings you two here?"
"Damage control," Lily replied. Padma's inconsequential Hufflepuff date had apparently dropped her in favor for someone, in his words, a little less frigid. Well, it was that, and someone who didn't hang about Death Eater rejects, but Lily and Padma had decided to keep that one to themselves. "Padma's been dumped so we're keeping her company."
"That's terrible…Does that mean I'm no longer the worst date she's ever had, do you think?" When Lily only glared, Ron shrugged. "Has Gin dumped you too, Harry? I feel like I would have heard about it."
"Shut up. I'm bloody starving. Board of Governors are stopping by the ball and I'm supposed to talk to them," Harry groaned, closing his eyes, "which really means put together a presentation on why we're a wonderfully happy school and everyone is so much better off." Lily watched as Harry tore apart a crumpet with particular vigor. "Which I haven't even started putting together, of course," he said around a mouthful of crumbs, and Lily laughed. "What?" he asked defensively, pulling the plate closer to himself, "I missed dinner."
"So did I!" Ron exclaimed. "Charlie was supposed to come in this week for Team Teach but didn't show, so I'm stuck making lesson plans." he grumbled. Defense Against the Dark Arts was currently being rotated through various teachers. "What the fuck do I know about DADA?" Lily and Harry both shot him a look. "Teaching, I mean. Teaching."
"You'll be great," Lily assured him.
"Better than the ball, anyways," Harry grinned, nudging Ron in the ribs.
"What, like you're any better?"
"No, but Ginny loves me," Harry said smugly. "And she already knows I'm a shite dancer. Luna's going to leave you in the dust."
"Do you two not know how to dance?" Lily asked, appalled. "Shall I call Peony back in?" She had spent what felt like countless hours holding Frank's sweaty palms as they practiced under the perpetually unimpressed Augusta Longbottom's supervision. At their expressions, Lily assumed she was right. "Lucky for you two, I've taken up a hobby," she said, jumping off her seat and extending a hand to Ron. "Harry?" she asked, and with a wave of his wand, the two were off, stepping in time to Muggle waltz as Lily resolutely ignored the way the two men looked at her.
.oOo.
"What took you so long?" Draco whispered in hushed tones, rushing to his door when Lily knocked.
"Ran into Ron and Harry. And Peony, actually."
"Parkinson?" Draco asked incredulously, and when Lily begun to explain the budding relationship between the future Slytherin Ice Queen and Ron, Draco shook his head. "You know what, never mind. Go do something, will you?" he asked, gesturing towards the rather unaffected Patil.
"Is she alright?"
"Perfectly fine. It's unnerving," Draco shuddered.
"You know I can hear you, don't you?" Padma asked from where she was stationed on an extra bed, staring out at the dark lake. She turned towards Lily. "How are your friends? It's a little late to be up, isn't it?"
"Harry's got some presentation, and Charlie's stuck in Albania with the dragons, or something, so Ron's doing Team Teach. You know, if you ever wanted to teach a lesson, I've got a pretty impressive bollocks-freezing hex you could send the wrong way…"
.oOo.
Padma caught Draco's eye, and perhaps against her better judgement, summoned a bottle of elven wine she knew he had "hidden" under the floorboards.
"Care for a drink, Granger?"
.oOo.
A/N- As said, you are the best. I so hope you enjoyed this! Plenty to mull over, I hope! As always, feel free to ask me any questions. I got some very good ones last chapter and tried to address them here. I know it's a slow reveal for a lot of pieces, so if some things are more important for you to know than others, let me know! Your feedback makes me a better storyteller, 100%.
ONE SHOT/SCENE REQUEST ALERT – First person to answer this question correctly: What does Draco think is going on? There is a specific word I am looking for in your answer, a couple of hints in this chapter… Remember, if you are not logged in, please check back next chapter to see if you were right and let me know what you want to read!
[Beth: You are an actual angel and I love love love hearing from you. I hope you enjoyed getting to read a bit more about carefree Head Boy James. Wonder how long that will last…] [SSB: Hopefully this cleared some things up, but if not, I hope at the very least it left better questions! Thank you for your review!]