Chapter 21: Uninvited

Author's Note: Read [bracketed] text as struck-through.

Dear Mum,

How are you feeling? Are you keeping as busy as I am? Between Head Girl duties, my studies, tutoring Timothy, and being tutored by Potter, I feel I barely have time for my mates or writing letters home!

Today was our first Hogsmeade trip. I thought I'd be more busy as Head Girl, needing to supervise things in the village, but there was remarkably little for me to worry about [except of course the glaring exception of getting cornered by hostile Slytherins and just narrowly avoiding a duel] so I got to enjoy the day with [friends] classmates. Emmeline and I looked at quills and books and pastries in the morning (you might notice an order form I've provided in case you might need any Christmas gift ideas...) and then, so wild, I accidentally spent the afternoon with [James] Potter and his friends. They made for, er, interesting lunch mates, and Potter's ex kind of killed the mood for a bit, but then we hiked up to the Shrieking Shack afterwards, and it lifted everyone's spirits back up. It was the perfect pre-Halloween activity. They all had so many ghost stories about it to share! Pettigrew spun a yarn about a tunnel that connects it to the grounds so the spirits from the shack are free to haunt the students when the moon is full. We all had a good laugh over that.

Then, when we got back to the castle and after we had dinner, Potter and I had a tutoring session and I think I FINALLY might have the basics of human Transfiguration down! I managed to change Potter's hair to red and back again with no mishaps. The poor boy has suffered a lot this past month as we've been practicing spells similar to this.

Anyways, you didn't need to hear so much about Potter and his mates, but it was an interesting day, to say the least. Not exactly what I expected from my Hogsmeade trip, but nice in the end, all the same.

Love,

Lily

PS – Will you pass Petunia's letter along to her? I wanted to write you both this weekend. Thanks!

/

Dear Petunia,

[I guess I'll try writing you one last letter this year before giving up. Your refusal to respond is getting upsetting.]

Happy Halloween!

How are you? I miss hearing from you! Any updates on Vernon? Work? [Literally anything?]

This morning in Hogsmeade my friend and I went to a bookshop and got pastries for breakfast, and it reminded me of when we used to go visit Gran and she'd take us into town and buy us fresh doughnuts from the café next to the library, do you remember? That was so long ago... we were so little!

Anyways, I don't have a ton to say, just that I miss you and I hope all is going well for you.

Love,

Lily

/

"Don't you think we should talk to Dumbledore?" James asks Sunday night. It's after dinner and we're gathering up the monthly reports from the prefect room to take to Dumbledore.

"Huh?" I say. "We already are?"

"Not about the reports," he says impatiently.

"Then what about?"

He rolls his eyes. "I don't know, Lily, maybe how you got attacked yesterday afternoon?"

"Oh... I suppose..." I knock the pile of parchment against the table to get all the edges to line up neatly.

"Why are you so reluctant about this?"

"I just..." but I don't finish. Why do I feel reluctant to tell Professor Dumbledore about what happened this afternoon with the Slytherins? It's exactly the kind of thing he told us to be on the watch for, and the Headmaster should definitely know if his students are attacking each other, on or off school grounds. "I don't know," I say.

We leave the room, Potter using his wand to flick off the lights, and start towards the Headmaster's office.

"I guess..." I say slowly as we walk, "I think... well, I think I'm embarrassed."

Potter looks at me, eyebrows raised. "Embarrassed? That you tracked four hostile Slytherins around Hogsmeade, kept them level until you had some back-up, and successfully deflected the only spell shot at us? Yes, all very embarrassing."

"You're making me seem way more capable than I am," I say. "It's my fault they even caught me in the first place; I wasn't nearly as sneaky as I thought I was, and so I didn't even figure out anything." I chew my lip, and then confess the other part of what's been bothering me. "And... I talked to Severus today."

James looks at me sharply; I guess he's not aware that Severus and I have taken to eating breakfast together on Sunday mornings while James is at Quidditch practice. Then we usually do homework together in the library or, if it's nice, by the lake. This morning had been no different. After Severus filled me in on the rest of his Hogsmeade day (a visit to J. Pippin's Potions for more flobberworms before meeting Rosier in Honeydukes), he'd told me about his disastrous evening while we walked out the castle doors into the autumn sunshine.

"And when I turned on the tap to brush my teeth, all that came out was this greenish goop. Better for me than Gareth, though. He'd just gotten in the shower."

I wrinkled my nose. "What was the problem?"

Severus laughed. "It was Evan and Rodolphus. Guess they picked up some instant slime from Zonko's yesterday and couldn't wait to use it. Huge mess though... Took every single one of us in the boys' dormitories to get it cleaned up before Professor Slughorn found out."

I laughed too, but the sound was half-hearted. Zonko's was right next to the alleyway I'd followed Rosier and Lestrange down yesterday. And hadn't James said that's where he'd lost them, too? I changed the subject when we sat down at the water's edge. Otherwise, I'd be second-guessing myself all morning.

"How's that patronus coming along? I have another memory for you..."

Now, I relay the conversation to James. "For all we know," I say after I've recapped Rosier's prank on his Housemates, "they were just going to go buy some joke supplies at Zonko's and got annoyed I was following them." I shake my head, feeling confused. I'd been so sure yesterday... "I just feel like if we tell Dumbledore about Hogsmeade – or any of the other times I've tracked the Slytherins – it's going to be disappointing that I haven't actually figured anything real out. Every time I've tried, I've been caught. I'm no good at this, and Dumbledore's going to wish he appointed someone more capable, or, I don't know, more experienced with magic than I am –"

"More experienced with magic?" James interrupts. "Lily, you do know you're like, the smartest person here, right?"

"But I'm not!" I say. "If that was true, you wouldn't be tutoring me every week!"

"Okay, so there's one subject you have a bit of a hard time with –"

"And you're just as good at most of the other ones! So is Sirius, for that matter, and Remus. And Sev's better in Potions, and Angela in Ravenclaw is right there with me all the time. And Emmeline! And don't you know how hard I have to work to be at the top? It's not like how it is for you, where you're just so good at it without even trying. Maybe if I'd been born into magic, I'd be better at this –"

"Lily," James says, swinging around in front of me. He places his hands on my shoulders. "Your birth has nothing to do with this. You are incredible. If anything, the only reason you keep getting caught is because you're such a rule follower. You have no experience sneaking around." He allows himself a small smile before getting serious again. "But that's got nothing – nothing – to do with you being muggle-born."

"No?" I ask, voice small.

"No," he says emphatically. "And, remember, Sirius and Remus and Peter and I all tried to follow the Slytherins today too? And we lost them? You did a right lot better than we did!" He shakes his head. "In fact, the only things we've been able to find out about the Slytherins so far have been all thanks to you. I haven't learned anything. It's been all you. So no being embarrassed. I'm who should be embarrassed."

I think that over for a long moment. The pressure of his hands, still resting on my shoulders, feels grounding. Reassuring.

"You're right," I say finally. "You're just riding my coattails, aren't you?"

He laughs. "One hundred percent."

I sigh. "Fine. We can tell Professor Dumbledore when we hand him these." I shift the stack of reports in my arms.

"Good," James says. He removes his hands from my shoulders and we resume walking.

"Potter?" I say a while later, before we reach the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

/

"Evans!" roars Black when I walk into the Transfiguration classroom Monday morning, James right behind me. "Hey, Black," I say, rolling my eyes but smiling all the same at his enthusiasm. Black, though we have established a tentative friendship ever since the Hogsmeade trip, still can't quite shake six years' worth of habit calling me by my surname. Although apparently neither quite can I.

Beyond the afternoon in Hogsmeade together, my mates and I had also eaten dinner with the Marauders that night, and the uncharacteristically sunny Sunday afternoon the next day, probably the last of the year, had resulted in an impromptu inter-House Exploding Snap tournament on the grounds where Black and I had actually been partnered up. We took second, narrowly defeated by the Ravenclaw team consisting of fellow seventh years Angela Stoker and Meg Donahue. Hence, Black's overly enthusiastic greeting today.

Emmeline and I are also in a tentative friendship, though unlike how it's progress with Black and me, it's a definite step back in mine and Emma's friendship.

"It's not a big deal, Lily," Emmeline had said at dinner after the Hogsmeade visit, when I'd apologized for ditching her earlier in the day. "You're just doing what Dumbledore asked you to." According to her, she and Marlene had a wonderful lunch together and spent the afternoon in Honeydukes, thinking ahead about what treats they wanted to bring home for Christmas.

Except that according to Marlene, while they did indeed have lunch together and stopped in at Honeydukes, the sweetshop trip had been brief, and Emmeline had left Marlene early in the afternoon to 'finish Defense school work'. But she spent all Sunday working on that, so I don't know what that's about.

Either way, she's lying to me, and I feel bad. I guess I really did push her too far this time. She's told me several times she's not interested in investigating the Slytherins, and I keep dragging her into it. Things have felt distant between her and me ever since Saturday, and I'm unsure how to bridge the gap.

I settle on being extra nice to her all day Monday. We're partners in Transfiguration and, thanks to all my hard work with James recently, I manage to not inflict any damage on her as we practice Disillusionment Spells and cheer loudly when she perfectly performs the spell on me. She shushes me, blushing, but I see her smiling in a pleased sort of way that makes me think maybe I'm getting back in her good graces.

/

I don't have much extra brain energy to spend on whether or not Em forgives me though as the school year rolls on through November. My days are barely distinguishable from one to the next as I, along with all my fellow seventh years, wade through our mountain of homework. It reminds me of how stressful fifth year was as well, when we were prepping for OWLs. The marked difference from fifth year to this one is how much time I'm spending with James.

Something shifted in our relationship after Hogsmeade, and after what James said to me on the way to Dumbledore's office. I suppose someone saving your life and facing a threat together will do that; you can't come out the other side of something like that without being friends.

And my chat with the other Marauders didn't hurt, either. It seems James really is keeping a secret that isn't his. I don't like it, but I get it now. A little bit, anyways.

We also did indeed end up reporting to Dumbledore what had happened in the alleyway, along with how we were suspicious the Slytherins had d been sneaking into Hogsmeade regularly. He'd listened carefully, his long fingers folded together, electric blue eyes thoughtful between his half-moon spectacles.

"Thank you for sharing," Dumbledore said when I finished recapping how Potter and his mates showed up to support me and we'd managed to intimidate the Slytherins into leaving before any real danger had occurred.

"What do you think, sir?" James asked.

"I think," Professor Dumbledore said, steepling his fingers together, "it is concerning our Slytherins are sneaking away from school and threatening other students."

"Might they have just been buying stuff from Zonkos?" I asked. I'd also told Dumbledore about the slime prank.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said. "But it is better to err on the side of safety and continue to keep our guard up. Especially when things outside of Hogwarts are not going well."

"What do you mean?" James said quickly. "Is that why you've been gone again recently? "Professor?" he added when I elbowed him.

Dumbledore nods. "More attacks this week, more muggle casualties. The Ministry, while doing a good job setting up additional protection for the Wizarding community, unfortunately does not have the same priority for our fellow muggles. It's time I take this matter into my own hands. I've been building a team to help."

"What can we do, sir?" James asked, sitting up straighter in his chair.

Dumbledore smiled gently at him. "Exactly what you are doing. Observe. Report to me." When both James and I started to protest, he held up a hand for silence. "You both belong at school right now, and I still have great need of your efforts here."

James gritted his teeth, but I nodded. Dumbledore continued. "Do not antagonize the Slytherins, but perhaps it is good for them to know they are being watched. It might prevent them from whatever they are planning." He smiled at both of us. "You two are doing wonderfully, both at this, and at your regular Head duties." When his eyes met mine, they looked a little extra understanding, like he knew what I'd said to James in the corridor. "I chose my Head students well.

So with that behind us, we're buckling down on our tutoring and Head duties, so much so that I'm pretty much with James all the time, excepting some of my classes, my tutoring with Timothy, and the time I'm asleep. Otherwise, we're in our study nook in the library tackling Transfiguration, or bent over prefect reports together in the Gryffindor common room, or almost missing dinner because we'd spent the free period before practicing Defense Against the Dark Arts.

All this time spent with James reminds me how smart he is, how naturally magic comes to him. Sometimes I forget about that. It's easy to think of him as the prankster who doesn't care about his marks, and while that's partially true, Potter hasn't been giving me a run for my spot as top of the class for nothing. Potter outpaces me in Transfiguration, obviously, and anyone who can handle NEWT level Arithmancy has to be exceptionally sharp. Meanwhile, after spending more time studying together, Potter reluctantly agrees that I do indeed have an edge over him in both Potions and Charms, but we're fairly well-matched in Defense Against the Dark Arts, which makes for some pretty brilliant dueling practice.

And, of course, the time spent together only endears him to me more. Those Quidditch match feelings I've been squashing resurface every time we brush shoulders walking down the corridors to class, or when he grabs my hand to correct my Vanishing Spell technique, or when I say something that surprises him and makes him laugh, and he turns to look at me, grin stretched wide, eyes shining. Dang it, but even his stupid hair ruffles just make me smile now. It's infuriating, but I don't have any willpower to stop.

I, Lily Evans, just might – MAYBE – fancy James Potter.

Just a little.

And nobody – nobody – needs to know.

Least of all James Potter.

Because Christmas holidays are rapidly approaching, and I'm sure the time apart will put my head back right. I'll return in January completely cleansed of all these silly affections and ready to focus anew on my studies. And on my mates, who I have been spending despairingly little time with. Thanks to Potter. And Head Girl duties. And classes and tutoring and... well, mostly Potter.

Stupid James Potter.

/

The second to last Friday in November, Barnaby finally returns with a letter for me.

"Can't imagine what took you so long, you silly owl," I mumble as I untie the letter attached to his scaly leg. "I wrote to Mum weeks and weeks ago." But of course, he just gives his usual, self-important feather ruffle before stealing my toast and taking off for the Owlery. And of course I don't have time to sit and read the letter, either. I wanted to get to Potions early to ask Slughorn about this week's reading before we start class.

"Taking this to go," I say, waving the letter.

"See you later," Marlene says around a bite of cereal. Alice and Emma wave.

Originally, I'd intended to open Mum's letter after I talked to Slughorn, while I was waiting for class to start, but it really has been weeks since I've heard from my family and I'm eager to read what she has to say, and so I break the seal as I walk towards the dungeons and begin to read.

Dear Lily,

I've loved getting your letters this school year. You've been (more or less) diligent in getting them out to me – although I do believe a weekly letter was promised, hmm?

However, today I cannot tease you about how you've been mentioning a certain James Potter in every single one of your letters or amuse you with a tale about my horrid first date with your father (not that I'm insinuating you were on a date in Hogsmeade, dear. I would never presume such a thing). Another time, another letter, perhaps, but I have something more pressing to discuss with you.

I know you and Petunia don't get along as well these days as I might long for you to, and I do understand that. But I was quite shocked and, might I even say, disappointed, when Petunia told me that you insist on spending part of your holiday break in Southampton and missing her wedding! This is particularly distressing to me since you weren't able to make it to the engagement party last week (not that I fault you - I know your school is quite impossible to miss). But I don't want this wedding to pass with no involvement from you at all!

Sweetheart, if you must spend time with Alice this holiday, can't I persuade you to do so at the beginning of break instead of after Christmas so that you won't miss the wedding? I don't think I could bear it if you weren't there, and I do think Petunia would be rather hurt.

Please reconsider. I love you.

Love,

Mum

I stop in the middle of the corridor and stare at the letter, turn it over like I think there might be more on the back, and read the whole thing again. Petunia, already engaged? Petunia, getting married?

I shake the envelope for good measure, and this time my efforts are rewarded: a stiff square of heavy parchment falls out, embossed with a message.

Ian and Victoria Evans are pleased to announce the marriage of their daughter

Petunia Evans to Vernon Dursley

son of Alexander and Margaret Dursley.

Your presence is requested for their wedding Friday 30 December

And, at the bottom in small script, the time and address are listed.

But Petunia didn't send me this invite. Mum did. Mum, who thought I already knew about the wedding. But I didn't. Because Petunia hadn't mentioned a thing. Not about getting engaged, not about the wedding, not a single bloody word to me, ever.

Petunia, sending me a very clear message that she does not want me there, at her wedding. Not even sending an invitation. Leaving me to find out there was even a wedding from Mum.

I'm furious, but more than that, I'm hurt. My vision blurs as my eyes fill with tears. I jam the letter into my pocket, not caring that I'm crumpling it up, and start down the hall, all thoughts of Potions and talking to Slughorn gone, just glad that I'd left breakfast early so the corridors are still empty. I'm not sure where I'm going. I just know I need to get somewhere – anywhere – before I run into anyone, before I really lose it and start sobbing.

So of course, when I take the corner much too quickly, I thump smack into someone's chest.

"Oof," they say, stumbling back.

"Sorry," I mumble, looking down at the ground and making to go around them and escape down the next corridor. But such is never my luck.

"Wait… Lily?"

Shoot.

James.

"Um, yes, hello. Can't talk, in quite the hurry," I say, trying to push around him, still hoping for a getaway without him noticing the tears that refuse to stop flowing out of the corners of my eyes, but my voice breaks on 'can't' and again on 'hurry'.

James grabs my arm. "Are you okay?"

No escape now. I turn to look at him and his eyes go wide in concern at my tear-streaked face. "No," I say. A fresh wave of tears floods out.

"What is it? It's not – Merlin, you didn't run into the Slytherins on your own again, did you?"

I shake my head.

He frowns. "Trouble with mates? Alice?" He hesitates. "Snape?"

"No," I say. "Nothing like that." Sniffling, I pull Mum's letter out of my pocket and shove it at him. "Here. This. Just… read it."

James drops his gaze and scans through the letter quickly. He frowns and rereads a section. Then he looks at me, still frowning.

"You're missing your sister's wedding? Why? And I didn't know you were going to Alice's for Christmas…"

"I'm not!" I wail.

"But…" James looks back down at the letter. "This says…"

"She made it up!" I say. "Petunia! She'd rather have the drama of me 'refusing' to be at her wedding than have me there!" The traitorous tears leak out some more, and I wipe them away angrily.

James rereads the letter, more carefully this time. "Your sister... uninvited you from her wedding? Through your mum?"

"Kind of pathetic, right?" I say, giving him a sad, watery smile. I lean against the wall, then give up on trying to appear even a little bit put together and slide down to sit on the floor, staring despondently at my hands.

There's a moment of silence, and then James slides down the wall to sit next to me.

"Not really," he says quietly.

We sit in silence for a long moment while I try to get my sniffling under control.

"Why..." he begins hesitantly. "Why would she do this?"

"Because she hates me," I say heavily.

"Hates you?" James says.

"Hates me," I say, and it comes out softer, wearier, this time. "She can't stand the magic. She hates that I'm magic and she's not and… and she just hates me for it all."

"Lily," James says softly. He hesitates, then slides an arm around my shoulders. Normally this would alarm or (and?) confuse me, but right now, it's only reassuring, and nice, and I lean my head on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he says.

"It's fine," I sigh.

James snorts. "It so is not!"

"You're right, it's not," I concede. "But I've been dealing with it for the last six years. I should be used to this by now."

His hand, resting on my shoulder, gives me a reassuring little rub. "It's okay that you're not," he says.

"Thank you," I say quietly.

We sit, James still rubbing my shoulder. My tears are finally drying up.

"But I've never had to deal with something quite as big as her banning me from a wedding!" I exclaim after a moment. "I just almost can't believe she'd do something like this!"

"Do you want to go?" James asks. "I mean, if she doesn't want you there so badly, maybe you are better off skipping..."

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I actually... do really want to go." I laugh a sad little laugh and put a hand to my forehead. "That's the saddest part, isn't it? Even though I know Tuney really doesn't want me there and is doing her best to make sure I don't end up there, I still really, REALLY want to be there." I sigh. "We were close once, it you can believe it. Very, very close."

"So go anyways!" James exclaims. "You don't have to let her shut you out of your family. If you really want to go, just go."

"Just go?" I say, startled. "But... but Tuney doesn't want me there."

"Well, screw her," James says.

"Potter!" I protest.

"No, really!" he insists. "Screw her. If you want to be there, be there. You're her sister, for Merlin's sake. If anyone has a right to be there, it's you."

"Oh, I don't know," I dither. "When Petunia sets her mind to something... and it is her wedding..."

"I'll come with you."

I look up at him in surprise. "Come with me?"

"Yeah," he says. "You'll get a plus one, I'm sure."

I just stare at him some more, and he hurries on.

"If... if you want me to, I mean. For moral support! Obviously. Not like..." To my surprise, James reddens. "Just, like, if you need someone to help you go through with it..." The hand he doesn't have around me, the one holding Mum's letter, goes up to rub his hair.

I think of showing up with James to Petunia's wedding, seeing that familiar ruffled hair under very different circumstances. I think of him meeting Mum and Dad, and how Dad would very un-subtly waggle his eyebrows at me and quiz James about his plans for the future and Mum would just smile knowingly at me even after I've explained a hundred times that James is just a friend. I think of James all dressed up in a suit, and me in a dress, and dancing the night away, not caring Petunia didn't want me there in the first place.

Surprisingly, I don't hate the idea of any of it.

"Thanks..." I say slowly. Carefully. "I'll... keep that in mind. If I do end up needing some support. After all, we're still working under the assumption I can get Petunia to agree to let me go, let alone with a whole extra person in tow."

"Well, at least we know your mum will be on your side," James says. "She'd clearly love it if I showed up. I, for one, can't wait to hear that disastrous date story."

I frown. Disastrous date story...? And then I remember the second paragraph of Mum's letter, the paragraph I barely registered in the context of the whole letter, the letter I shoved at James to read, the letter James is STILL HOLDING, and I sit bolt upright, knocking James's arm from my shoulder.

"...cannot tease you about how you've been mentioning a certain James Potter in every single one of your letters... on a date in Hogsmeade... would never presume such a thing..."

I can't imagine how red and horrified my hot face must look. James gives me a wicked grin. "Been talking about me much, have you?"

"Give me that," I mutter, getting up off the hard stone floor and snatching for the letter. "Mum's a chronic over-exaggerator, you'll see so when you meet her."

But James also gets to his feet and holds the letter high out of reach, grin getting bigger and even more infuriating. "When I meet her? Already planning on introducing me to your parents, Evans? I thought just a minute ago those circumstances were a strong maybe."

"Just - give that – to me!" I say, jumping to try and grab the parchment back from him. My fingers close on his wrist and succeed in lowering his hand back into my reach. I go to take the letter back, but his grip stays tight.

"Promise me I'll meet your mum first," he says.

"What?" I say incredulously. I give another futile tug on the letter.

"Promise me," he says, and when I look up to roll my eyes at him, I realize how very close we are standing. I mean, I know he had his arm around me like one minute ago, but this feels different. I still have my fingers wrapped around his wrist and the scuffle over my letter has made it so that his face is mere inches from mine and I can see gold flecks in his eyes. He smells like bacon and strawberry jam. I still.

"Promise," he says quietly.

"Fine," I say, trying not to sound breathless and like I'm very much unaffected by this proximity and the feeling we might be talking about more than my mother now. "I promise." And just like that, he lets me pluck the letter out of his grasp and we both take several steps back. The air feels colder as soon as he moves away from me, and I wish I could gulp in several large lung-fuls of it without looking weird.

"Feeling up to Potions?" James asks.

I sigh. "If we must."

"Well, we don't have to go..." he starts, but I cut him off.

"I've never skived off a class before and I'm not about to start now," I lecture, and start to head in the direction of the dungeons again. Against all odds, I actually do feel mostly okay now.

"Never skived... you know what? I'm actually not surprised even a little bit." Potter shakes his head as he follows me.

"We can't all be mischievous Marauders," I say.

"And you can't give me anything more to use against you when I meet your mum." I don't have to look at him to hear the grin spreading again.

"You can bloody well say hi on the platform," I say. "Where it's very loud. And busy. And everyone will be rushing to get home for the holidays. That counts."

He shrugs, unbothered. "If that's really how you want your mum to meet me."

It's actually not.

And he knows it.

Stupid, stupid James Potter.