a/n: Just a small disclaimer, the novel mentioned in this chapter 'the weight of dreams' and all excerpts from it are my own original work and not a published novel, so I'm not like breaking any copyright rules by posting it.

ALL THE THREADS OF FATE.

PART I:

CRUEL SUMMER.

II.

The McKinnon's Floo Network opened to their living room, a rounded room with patterned dark green wallpaper and hardwood floors that was decorated in true Scottish fashion. Both of Marlene's parents were of Scottish origin, though her mother had been born and raised in Chilcomb, near Winchester, in the very cottage I was standing in. Her father had grown up in Ballater.

I stepped out of the fireplace, brushing any soot off my shoulders and dress as I walked further into the room. The cottage was eerily silent. Located on a hill and surrounded by nothing but trees and fields, it was usually quiet save for the rustles and humming of the people inside. Not today, though. Today I could hear nothing but the morning birds, the summer breeze ruffling the tree leaves.

Marlene's parents were likely not home, which would explain why she'd returned home the night before. Marlene very seldom went home after a night out if her parents would be there. They were completely against alcohol and intoxication of any kind. She'd rather stay at someone else's house than face their disappointment.

I'd barely taken a couple steps toward the stairs when the Floo went off again. I turned, thinking perhaps I'd spoken too soon and the reason Marlene's parents weren't around was because they'd gone to do the food shopping. Instead of Mr and Mrs McKinnon stepping out in all their, respectively, blond and redheaded glory, the head that popped out was covered in raven black hair, so dark it shone white.

"Dorcas?"

Out of all the people I expected to see here, Dorcas Meadowes was not it. Still, I could not contain my own selfish excitement at seeing her. If we were all under the same roof, Dorcas and I could easily discuss the closed letter still in my hand while Marlene was busy getting ready for the day. Of course, we first had to address whatever was so terrible that had lead Marlene to personally write to Dorcas.

Dorcas' up-tilted dark eyes widened when she spotted me. She didn't hesitate to envelop me in a greeting hug.

"Oh, thank Merlin, you're here." She exhaled, relieved and slumping against me. The extra weight and height difference had me swaying on the spot. "I did not fancy dealing with Marlene on my own."

"She wrote to you, too?" I asked once we'd parted, surprise colouring my voice.

Dorcas rolled her eyes, hand pushing the hair away from her face. She was spending the summer down in Cornwall with her parents, and her skin had taken to the sun exposure since the last time I'd seen her only two weeks ago. She wasn't quite tanned, but the warm undertones of her skin were a little more noticeable. Considering her fair skin and how careful she was to never expose herself to the sun without infallible protection, I'd say that was as good a tan as she'd ever achieve.

"Yes, and I expect Lily received a letter, too." She huffed. "If you can even call that a letter. 'Come. Now'. What sort of message is that?"

"A request for your presence, I reckon," I couldn't help but joke.

Dorcas was not amused. Her expression soured. It was well known that Dorcas and Marlene were only friends because Lily and I were friends with both of them. In fact, I'd say calling them 'friends' was stretching it. They hung out when we were all together, they were civil to one another, but they had very little patience when it came to the other and I suspected they'd be rivals if they didn't share a dorm and close friends.

"Do not start, Mer." Dorcas pointed a finger at me. Her tone was annoyed, but it was more at the situation than at me. "It's bad enough that I have to deal with Marlene's undoubtedly blown out of proportion drama before lunchtime."

That brought a frown to my face. Dorcas and Marlene weren't close. Yet, Marlene had called on her. What could possibly be so bad that Marlene, even in her drunken or hungover state depending on when she'd penned the letter, would willingly ask for Dorcas' presence?

"You make her sound terrible." I reproached.

Placing the letter in my hand on the coffee table—my wand above it so it'd be recognized as mine in case Mr and Mrs McKinnon arrived and thought it a mispost—I followed Dorcas into the hallway.

"She is." Dorcas scoffed over her shoulder.

Marlene's tendency to exaggerate a situation was something I had grown accustomed to years ago. It was just the way she was, and while it was one trait that was a little more difficult to accept, it was one I accepted, nonetheless. Dorcas didn't, and arguing with her over Marlene was a losing battle.

With nothing more to say, Dorcas and I began ascending the steep staircase leading up to the second floor.

Marlene's problem ended up being a little less of a problem than I'd imagined. In fact, I'd go as far to say it wasn't a problem at all. Still, there she was, prostrate in bed, duvet up to her neck, makeup ruined as she sobbed. Sobbed. Over an issue that could be resolved with a simple apology.

When Dorcas sent me a look that was more of a glower, I returned it without meaning to. A reaction I could not hold back.

"He hates me!" Marlene whined, fisting the pillow under her head. "He's one of my closest friends and now he hates me!"

I certainly doubted that. From what little we'd gathered—and it was very little. The moment we'd opened the door to her room, Marlene had taken one look at us and burst into tears.

Coaxing words out of her had taken fifteen minutes. After she explained, Dorcas looked like she was more than willing to strangle her as compensation for wasting her time.

The story went like this: in her drunken stupor last night, Marlene, suddenly overcome by loneliness, had latched onto the first bloke she'd found who didn't happen to look like he'd willingly bed a corpse. That noble young wizard happened to be the one and only Remus Lupin. The attempt at seduction hadn't gone very far. From what Marlene remembered, she'd ended up collapsing in his arms, tearful over not having someone. I had a feeling she was more embarrassed about that than the fact that Remus had softly explained he wasn't interested in her that way.

"You're exaggerating, McKinnon," Dorcas drawled from the vanity where she was sitting, elbows resting on the surface and legs crossed. Under her breath, she added, "How surprising."

Marlene pushed off her forearms, pillow still fisted between her fingers, long enough to glare ferociously at Dorcas. I inched closer to her bedside table, where her wand rested atop her copy of Running Through Rain by Charlie White.

"Shut up, Meadowes!" She screeched so loud I cringed. "You're not helping!"

"I thought you were actually in trouble." Dorcas shot back, nose upturned. The coldness in her eyes was a testament of how little patience she had left. "Excuse me if I don't consider a simple misunderstanding the emergency you think it."

Marlene sobbed once more, but I kept my eyes on Dorcas. Her eyes hadn't softened; her mouth was set in a hard line. She didn't sound worried, nor did she look it, but—she had been. My surprise must have shown more than I thought, because when Dorcas turned to me her eyes narrowed before she looked away, huffing. She was doing a lot of that today, huffing and puffing, so unlike her I didn't understand how I hadn't seen it sooner.

"Meredith." Marlene wailed.

I turned immediately. Sure, I didn't see what the big deal was. Remus would understand once she explained, once she apologised. Marlene, however, was distraught over the whole ordeal, and the sight tugged at my heartstrings.

She had lied back down, face away from us so all I could see was the back of her head, hair matted from all the turning she must have done throughout the night. I sat on the edge of her bed, hand resting between her shoulder blades.

"Marlene, I promise you," I started. Dorcas widened her eyes, face tilting slightly in a message I translated quickly: is promise really the word you want to use? "This is not as bad as you think."

Remus was nice. Even if he did think Marlene fancied him, he wouldn't be a prick about it. James would tease her mercilessly. Sirius would never let her forget it. But it was fine, because I had a plan.

"I've—" Marlene's sentence was interrupted by a staggering inhale. "Ruined—" a loud sob. "EVERYTHING."

"You've ruined nothing." I insisted.

My fingers tightened against the back of her neck, much like a dog would with its pup. The tense muscles barely gave way under my touch, but it soothed her enough that she quietened somewhat.

"I don't want him to think I fancy Remus." She sniffed into the pillow.

I blinked, suddenly feeling like there was a huge piece of the puzzle missing, like I'd been given a storybook with pages torn out.

"Who?"

Dorcas shrugged at my question, face all 'what do I know?' as she flicked her hair over one shoulder. Instead of answering, Marlene twisted around in the bed. She angled toward me, the morning light emphasizing her tear-stricken face. Her cheeks were splotchy. Her lips, pale and dry. Her blue eyes had a golden ring around each pupil; the redness and glassiness brought on by the tears made that golden colour appear brighter, which in turn had her distress be more obvious, like it was oozing out of that golden yellow alone.

"Mer, what if he doesn't talk to me now?"

Uncertain on whether we were still talking about Remus, I evaded the question.

"Who wouldn't talk to you, huh?"

"I can think of a couple of names." Dorcas grumbled.

Marlene's bottom lip wavered. Her eyes filled with fresh tears again. I shot Dorcas a look. If Marlene grew hysterical again, I was going to throttle Dorcas with my bare hands.

"Here's what we're going to do," I began before Dorcas could add insult to injury. "You're going to take a long bubble bath, wash your hair, and then we'll help—"

"We?" Dorcas piped up.

I didn't need to turn around to know her eyebrows were raised; the gesture was entrenched in her voice.

"We will help you draft a letter to Remus, fixing the whole thing."

And requesting he not tell Sirius, James, or Peter. Especially Peter, he had a habit of letting secrets slip as easily as Marlene herself. If none of the boys knew, she could put the whole ordeal behind her. It'd be a shadow of a memory before the summer was gone.

"Mr Inoue wrote back."

Dorcas' head rose from her folded arms in surprise, the light coming in from the kitchen window turning her eyes a shade of brown lighter. We were downstairs, waiting for Marlene to finish bathing. It'd taken me fifteen minutes to finally utter those four words.

"He did? What did he say?"

"I haven't opened it yet." I revealed, pulling the sealed letter from my lap.

"Meredith…" she groaned, as much a complaint as it was a warning.

"Please? You know I'm rubbish at Japanese."

I sent her a faux pout, offering the letter to her like it was a steaming cup of hot cocoa, a treat she could never refuse.

"You're better than you think," she told me, and the sincerity of her expression made me realize that was probably true.

Out of all the languages I was fluent in, however, Japanese was the one I struggled with the most. I still got things wrong, I still found myself having to translate sentences into English before I could respond. I could hold my own pretty well, but I knew it'd be a while still before I mastered it. Dorcas, on the other hand, was as fluent in Japanese as she was in English.

"Maybe, but you're perfect. I—I need perfect."

I was pleading, I realised with no little amount of shame.

"Fine. But this is the last time! If he's saying no again, I'm out." Dorcas warned, ripping the enveloped from my fingers.

My first letter to Mr Inoue had been answered with a reluctant 'no'. So, I'd recruited Dorcas. Her mother was Japanese and had not wanted her only daughter to grow up disconnected from that side of her heritage. As a result, Dorcas had grown up speaking both English and Japanese, learning both cultures, considering both countries home.

She'd helped me write another letter, wherein we attempted to convince him that the object would be in great hands and cared for, despite my young age. It was probably pushing it, and Dorcas had warned me Mr Inoue might find it impolite—nothing I didn't already know—but I was hoping he had found my eagerness endearing. Which lead us to this. He'd answered, and I knew that while Dorcas refusing to help any further stemmed from her thinking I was silly for going to such lengths for a book, if he said 'no' again, that was it.

"Honestly, talk about obsessive behaviour." She grumbled under her breath.

"Deal." I agreed, opting to ignore the snarky remark.

Dorcas regarded me for a moment, unconvinced, before opening the letter. The parchment was folded thrice in a horizontal manner. As she unfolded it, I noticed how much Mr Inoue had written, but was unable to decipher whether that was a good thing or not when she held it aloft before I could glimpse at the words.

"So… is he saying 'no'?"

The wild pace of my heart was embarrassing.

"No."

Hope sparked in my chest.

"No?" I echoed.

"He's willing to sell, for the amount of—sweet Gryffindor." She gasped, eyes wide as she stared at the numbers. "No book is worth that much."

At the question in my face, she read the amount aloud. It was steep but considering what a relic that book was, it could have been much worse. Also—

"You have shoes more expensive than that." I pointed out.

So did I. And dresses, and necklaces. Earrings. Plenty of things in my room were more expensive than the price Mr Inoue requested, and they weren't nearly as worth it.

"I don't like blisters." Dorcas dismissed before giving me a level look. One I was not a fan of. "You're not spending this much gold on a book."

Another thing I profoundly disliked: being made to feel like a chastised child.

"I'll be the judge of that, thank you." I retorted with a smile that could put a knife to shame.

"What is your fascination with it anyway? It's not even useful."

"I had a passing fancy. Except it stayed."

I met her unamused stare with one of my own. Dorcas may have a temper to rival the gods, but I wasn't called princess of Gryffindor for nothing. I always won.

"Fine. He says he can post it to you, charmed against damages once he's received payment." She raised her eyebrows, mouth pursed as if to say is that more to your satisfaction?

It wasn't. If anything, it was exactly everything I didn't want.

"I am not letting him post an ancient text halfway across the world, let alone paying him before I can verify that the book in question is the real deal!"

I hadn't planned on exclaiming it, or the alarm that must have been clear on my face. The Primeval Essence of Magick was invaluable, an absolute treasure, and he wanted to send it in the post? There wasn't a single owl or bird I trusted that much.

"He mentions that." By Dorcas' tone, I knew she agreed with how irresponsible that'd be. "Says you could make the transaction in person."

That was hardly better. Merlin, this was never going to work.

"Oh, yeah, let me just quickly travel to Hakone." I snorted, resting my chin on a propped-up hand.

Maybe I could. If I didn't have enough galleons in my personal vault, I could convince Freyr to loan me some without telling Mum and Dad. They definitely wouldn't approve of the purchase, so secrecy was crucial. And it'd have to be Freyr; he'd think it a funny little adventure, another entertaining caprice of mine, like the fact I didn't eat meat. Addie would probably tell on me, especially once she saw what book I was seeking to purchase. So, Freyr was the best option.

And then… well, I could simply tell Mum and Dad I was spending a weekend over at Dorcas'. It certainly wouldn't be the first time I sneaked out of the country while they thought I was somewhere else. It would be the first time I sneaked out of the continent, but—Germany, Japan, travel was travel, right?

"Mer, I'm sure someone else must have the book in stock," Dorcas said, voice losing some of its hard edge. "Have you tried that little antique bookstore Remus loves so much? Merlin, what is it called?"

Her voice turned quieter as she became lost in memories, trying but failing to come up with the name she'd forgotten. While the Cat in the Wall was reputable for selling not-so-well-known tomes and finding them for you in the rare occurrences when they didn't have a copy, this was not a situation they could help me with. Not that Dorcas knew, of course. Still, I couldn't help the wave of irritation and helplessness that crested inside me at the suggestion.

"There are only three copies in existence, Dorcas. One of them belongs in a museum." I might as well have seethed at her. "The other two belong to private owners out of which only he is willing to sell."

And wasn't that just my luck?

"For quite a steep amount!" she reminded me, once more sounding like she worried for my sanity. "Have you tried contacting the other person, negotiate a fair deal?"

I hadn't. Walburga Black would never part ways with it, let alone sell it to me. Especially since his renegade son now lived with my family. I sighed, slumping back in my seat. This was never going to work.

"He doesn't mention you travelling to Japan."

Dorcas' resigning to my stubbornness cut through my pitiful thought before it could devolve into something worse. I sat up.

"What?"

"Yes, see?"

She laid the parchment flat against the table, tapping a section of the letter with a nail polished a bright blue. It took me longer than it should have to understand what Mr Inoue had written, my brain cloudy with excitement and possibilities. Indeed, he had never mentioned my travelling to Japan. He was willing to travel to the UK himself, to a favoured location of mine, so that I may regard the item before completing the purchase.

"He asks that you cover half of his travel expenses in addition to the amount he's asking for. He even provided a date that works for him." Dorcas continued, tracing the message in the letter.

"Let's do that," I said without waiting a beat.

Dorcas regarded me like I was stupid and she feared for my sanity.

"We'll be at school then. It's Hallowe'en."

"We can meet at Hogsmeade." At her dubious look I insisted. "We can. James can get us out."

Dorcas snorted, the force of it causing strands of her shoulder-length hair to flutter.

"James would sneak us out of the castle and break Merlin knows how many rules just so you may or may not buy a really, really, old book?"

"Yes."

He'd consider it just for the thrill of it. But after I explained? Absolutely he would do it. Without question.

"I thought you didn't want anyone to know."

"James doesn't count." I replied with a tone that left no room for argument, no room for Dorcas' increasing impatience.

"The sodding book better teach you how to successfully bring back the dead," Dorcas said, dryly. A moment passed before she tore her gaze from the letter and met mine. Her lips quirked upward. "I have always wanted to sneak out of the castle."

That was as much approval on this plan as I was ever going to get from her. Keeping my grateful smile from being too keen was an effort of mythical proportions.

Lily's room looked just like mine, yet nothing alike. It was roughly half the size of mine, with only one window instead of two, smack in the middle of the wall. As fate would have it, however, we had the exact same furniture. Wardrobe, chest of drawers, bedside table, bedframe: they were a set made of fine-quality wood a hue of brown so deep it was nearly black. I hadn't the slightest where my set had come from, but I still remembered Lily's shocked expression when she'd stepped into my room for the first time years ago and found we owned the same furniture. We were convinced it was the fates' way of informing us we were destined to be friends.

While I kept my walls mostly bare, hers were covered in pictures, muggle and magic alike. Her family, us, the boys, the Gryffindor common room. Posters of her favourite bands. She'd flattened the dust jackets for her favourite books and stuck them to the walls.

A door on the left connected to the bathroom, just like in my own room. A bathroom that was technically not just hers, as its second door led to the hallway, but guests were urged to use the facilities downstairs and Petunia insisted on using their parents' as 'who knew what sort of magical germs I'll be afflicted with if I share a loo with a freak?' According to Lily, she'd spat the words 'magical' and 'freak' with the same fervour used for curses.

The Evans' home had three storeys—an attempt to fit as comfortable a house as possible in such a small lot—and the parents' bedroom and bathroom were located on the topmost floor, along with Mr Evans' study. I hoped Petunia tripped down the stairs during one of her many late-night trips to the loo.

Alas, her ridiculous nature meant Lily now had full possession of the second floor's bathroom, and it also meant we had full reign of this level of the house whenever we visited, as Petunia made herself scarce the second we stepped foot over the threshold. We could be as loud as we wanted, blast music as high as it could go, and no annoying sibling would tell us to shut up—as it would constantly occur at my own home—nor would any parent beg us to return to reason—as it would happen over at Marlene's. Mr Evans often worked late, and Mrs Evans was somewhat still unaccustomed to Lily being away for the better part of the year, which made her more lenient than most wizarding parents would. Maybe it was a muggle thing.

After Dorcas and I had written a reply to Mr Inoue—which I would post as soon as I arrived home—and Marlene's Remus problem had been resolved, we'd made our way to Lily's. I still wanted to speak with her, and the other two were bored.

That boredom paired with Lily's apparent risen spirits were what led to our current position: sprawled on the floor, legs up against the wall with the least decorations, hair behind us, skirts and limbs overlapping. I was nestled between Dorcas and Marlene. Dorcas and Lily were currently nudging at each other's feet and ankles, legs crossing, as Marlene read aloud to us from one of Lily's muggle novels. The Weight of Dreams by some author I'd never heard of before.

"He levelled cold eyes at her, one eyebrow quirked in a challenge she was more than willing to meet. 'You'll only get one shot at it.' Penthesilea nocked the arrow, drawing the string back without breaking eye-contact with him. 'Lucky that's all I need,' she said. She let the projectile loose. It embedded itself into the manticore's eye to the goose feather fletching. The beast fell to the ground mid-leap, silencing Yarrow's mocking laughter—" Marlene stopped reading, letting out a little sound between a screech and a sharp inhale. "I mean—the power she holds!"

"Women." Dorcas sighed, admiration softening her features.

"Indeed," I hummed.

For a moment, I allowed myself a little fantasy. Me as the main character, beautiful in an easy, natural way, blood on my face from the enemies I felled. A longsword in one hand, a bow and quiver strapped to my back. Independent. Powerful, and strong. Loved and feared in equal parts. Penthesilea never doubted herself, even when those around her did nothing but. I yearned to be like that.

"She is pretty awesome." Lily agreed, idly pushing Dorcas' feet. "You know they're gonna fuck, though."

"Lily!" I cackled.

"What? They are!"

"He doesn't even like her, Lils." Dorcas reminded her.

Her socked foot nudged at Lily's much in the same way as Lily's had before. I let my own feet slip further down the wall, not wanting to take part in the foot war.

"It's called masking feelings and tangible sexual tension with teasing and petty arguments," Lily said, matter-of-fact. "It's my favourite plot device."

I giggled. It did sound like Penthesilea would end up with Yarrow, or they'd have at least one tumble between the sheets. There was too much eye contact and backward compliments, one too many challenges and more than a few accidental, lingering touches for there not to be. A pity, though, since I much preferred the quiet, kind Erik, who'd unfortunately had to stay behind on this particular adventure. If Penthesilea was to end up with someone, it should be the easy, non-infuriating choice.

"Who wants to date the bloke they hate?" Dorcas huffed, not in irritation like this morning, but still not quite as amused as I was. "No way that's a thing."

"I didn't say date, I said fuck." Lily corrected, flinging one finger up in the air like she was wielding a dagger. Or, perhaps as a euphemism? "And sure it is. Ask Meredith, she knows all about it."

I didn't dare look away from the ceiling. There was something to Lily's tone, this undercurrent of tension that suggested she wasn't saying that just because she knew I, too, read quite a few adventure romances. I held on to a strand of hair, tugging it between my fingers. Dorcas' face swivelled toward me.

"Ooh! Lily's right!" Marlene's giggling saved me from having to join the conversation. "This is—" she gasped, high-pitched and faux scandalised. "Lily Evans, this is a filthy book!"

Lily shrugged, casual.

"Don't judge me."

"What!"

The word was half an exclamation, half a gasp as Dorcas tore her eyes away from me, itching higher on the floor so she could look at Marlene. The look on her face made me laugh as I, too, turned to the right.

While Dorcas and Lily argued over Penthesilea's love life, Marlene had read ahead. Well, more like skimmed ahead until she found a promising passage, I realized, as she shoved the book toward us. It hovered above me, her arms not long enough to reach Dorcas and Lily. Lily's attention returned to her bare feet, toes wiggling against the wall in a rhythm only she knew. Dorcas leaned against my shoulder, chin digging into my temple as she strained for a better view of the book. I shifted, willing her shoulder to dislodge from my collarbone to no avail. Resigned, I returned to whatever scene had Marlene seconds away from dissolving into uncontrollable giggles.

I had to admit it was quite outrageous, saucier than I thought Lily would dare. It was the kind of book Mother would ground me until I graduated for reading. The kind of book I would definitely not leave laying around for anyone to pick up. No one had ever made her burn like this. She'd wanted to gouge his eyes out, rip out his throat with her teeth until his lifeblood dribbled down her throat, but she would settle for digging her nails into his skin hard enough to mark as his mouth sucked at that sweet spot beneath her jaw, his hand—my ears burned.

"That's—"

"Hate sex." I provided when the words escaped a still bewildered Dorcas.

My throat was dry. Never had I ever felt so… exposed, which made no sense because I'd read worse. I'd done worse, and then proceeded to share every filthy detail with my friends between the stonewalls of Gryffindor Tower. We'd laughed at what had sounded like a good idea but had turned out to be uncomfortable, squealed at the things that had been as exciting and thrilling as we'd imagined, exchanged stories. While hate sex was not something I'd ever really considered, it was almost like—well, like Penthesilea was speaking my—

"Steamy, very explicit hate sex." Marlene squealed, one shaped nail scraping down the page as the scene progressed rapidly.

"Merlin, that is—"

Marlene flipped the page. Dorcas never finished the sentence, too enraptured.

"And that!"

Marlene pointed to another sentence, one that described Yarrow's apparently more than satisfactory physical attributes. And how skilful he was when it came to putting them to good use. I snorted.

"Oh." Dorcas paused, eyes stuck on the pages hovering above us. "Are there any more?"

"Shall we check?"

Marlene was already flipping pages, scanning for any other romantic scenes. Considering the tome's size—at the very least 500 pages—I was certain there would, indeed, be more scenes of that nature, especially when the first one occurred in page 150. It appeared Penthesilea and Yarrow moved fast.

"Reading ahead is cheating." I complained.

We didn't even know what had lead our heroes to surrender to desire. What had happened for them to abandon their scruples and allow their bodies to fight it out when words never hit the mark.

Dorcas slipped lower on the floor, her head coming to rest on my ribcage. The change in position meant she was closer to the book, which Marlene had now folded, back over spine, and held in one hand, fingers spread to support its weight. I cringed, sending Lily a furtive glance. She was yet to notice the violent way her book was being treated. Her green eyes were stuck to the wall, vacant. I didn't think she was looking at her toes anymore.

"Shut up. I'm not getting any, let me live vicariously through Penthesilea of Nor."

Marlene snickered her agreement, mentioning something about how sexy Yarrow was. I smiled, expecting Lily to pipe up then. For Yarrow held a striking resemblance to another tall, athletic, dark-haired, hazel-eyed young wizard we all knew, and I was mighty curious to witness Lily talk herself out of that one. If I noticed the resemblance, those not blood-related to James, and therefore much more aware of his handsomeness, surely did too.

Lily remained silent.

"Well, I got some last night. So—"

I pushed off the wall with my feet, sliding on the hardwood floorboards. Dorcas yelped as the movement jarred her, head slipping until she was face-first on the floor. Marlene pushed at my hip as I twisted, meeting Lily's inquisitive gaze. Ignoring Marlene's comment about me being a prude—one she made a little louder than necessary—I jerked my chin to the general vicinity of the bed.

Lily nodded, letting her legs fall back until her toes hit the space above her head. She pushed off her hips, twisting her upper body like a snake until she was upright on her knees, bottom to heels. In another fluid motion, she was up and walking to the farthest corner, where her bed was nestled between the walls.

I did not rise with the same elegance my dear friend did. Marlene was still elbowing me away like I wasn't the one who patted her hair and dried her tears that morning, and in my haste to get away from her, I forgot how soft the anklet socks I wore were. The cashmere offered no grip against the floorboards. I went skidding through the room, scrambling with my hands for purchase.

Lily grasped my wrist, head thrown back in a laugh that showed all of her teeth. She pulled me upright, wobbling when I almost slipped a second time. Dorcas was stifling laughter behind her hand, but it was Marlene's strangely satisfied smile that made me want to avoid eye-contact with all three of them, cheeks burning.

My embarrassed flush lasted longer than their laughter. Marlene and Dorcas went back to The Weight of Dreams as soon as Lily and I plopped on the bed. Still, I couldn't help but resent my choice in hosiery.

"How are you doing?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

While it was likely that Marlene and Dorcas would be listening and simply choosing not to take part in the conversation, I still desired some semblance of privacy. Neither Marlene nor Dorcas had hinted at knowing of Lily's distress, which was enough for me to discern Lily had wanted this conversation to be solely between the two of us.

"Better now that you guys are around." Lily assured me. Indeed, Lily's eyes had brightened the moment she'd opened the door, and that inner light had only grown as time went on. Until now, at least. "I trust you got my letter."

She twisted atop the flower-specked grey duvet, crisscrossing her legs, and letting her hands rest in the hollow between them. A reflection of my own position.

"Yes, it's why I wanted to visit. They sort of invited themselves." I apologised.

"It's okay." She shook her head. The sun streaming in set her red hair aflame. Molten metal, cascading down her back. "I mean, it's not like Petunia not liking me and James harassing me are a secret."

Her tone grew bitterer the more she spoke. She practically spat my cousin's name, fists clenching and unclenching. Lily was not as quick to anger as some of us, not as easily explosive as Marlene, but when she raged she burned something fierce. James Potter was one of the few aspect of our lives capable of turning her into a wildfire.

"Has she been making more 'freak' comments?" I asked, not quite ready to broach the subject of James' affections yet. "Because I'll more than happily show her how freaky we can be."

It was a threat I meant. Petunia Evans was despicable, a sad excuse for a sister. My siblings and I had a turbulent relationship sometimes, but they'd fiercely defend and protect me when needed. That was something the twins had proven nearly a year ago, when they made it clear their loyalties lay with me. I'd do the same for them, no questions asked. Petunia Evans appeared to be the opposite of that.

I couldn't imagine what it must be like for Lily, to be judged and ridiculed and doubted by a number of people in our world for her heritage and upbringing, and then to be insulted and have to bear countless scathing remarks from her own sister for the very thing many arseholes accused her of having stolen. What ought to have made Lily special and remarkable in her family's eyes twisted into an ugly insult. What ought to have made Lily interesting and diverse in our world marred by an outdated belief that stemmed from nothing but a deep-rooted sense of self-preservation after centuries of wizard persecution before the two worlds split.

I would have drowned under the weight of it already. Yet she continued, yet she thrived, strong and intelligent and beautiful. As kind as she could sometimes be mean.

"We can't use magic outside of Hogwarts," Lily reminded me.

"It'll be a little spell, something simple. The Ministry will remain none the wiser." I dismissed her concern with the wave of a hand. Then, with an innocent tone that covered the fact I already knew the answer, I asked: "How would she feel about green hair?"

Lily's bottle green eyes glinted with satisfied diablerie, like she'd already seen the outcome in her mind's eye and loved every second of it. It was a look I knew well, though not one that showed on her face often.

"She would absolutely lose her mind." After a beat longer, her smile vanished. A shadow passed over her features, dimming her eyes. "It wasn't a comment. Her birthday is in two weeks. She booked a weekend away in Llanfairfechan for four." She paused for a deep breath, readying herself for the words to come. I had an inkling of what they'd be. "The three of them and Vernon. She called it a family trip. I found out yesterday."

I clicked my tongue. The absolute audacity.

"What did your parents say?"

"Dad's upset, though not enough to do something about it." She snorted. When she met my gaze, the scorn there was overshadowed by the red riming her irises. "You know what Mum said? That I'm away so often, she'd forgotten I'd be here on that date. It's summer, of course I'd be here!"

"I'm guessing Petunia isn't apologetic in the least."

"Ha, that's a laugh!" Though Lily did laugh, nothing about it suggested she thought it funny. "She's so smug about it, too."

She looked away, wringing her fingers. I floundered for what to say.

A photograph on the wall beside the bed caught my eye. It was in black and white, from the time when Lily refused to shoot in colour because it 'stripped the moment of emotion'. The photograph showcased all of us huddled together in a corner booth at The Three Broomsticks, arguably the only booth large enough to fit all eight of us, and it was already a tight fit. If any of our other friends had joined us, we'd have had to move.

Lily was the only one who thought to sit still and smile at the camera. I watched as Remus balled up a napkin and threw it at James. It bounced square off James's forehead and hit Sirius in the eye. Peter, Dorcas, and Marlene cracked in laughter, moving about so much all of us shifted on the U-shaped bench. Except for Lily, who remained beside me, smile tightening at whatever James had said to her across the table. The loop ended as Sirius copied Remus, throwing his balled-up napkin at me. His grin when I caught it in the air was wild.

I watched the loop twice.

"We're going to a Quidditch match that weekend, would you like to come?"

Lily blinked, taken aback at the invitation. Her lips quirked up at the end, the barest of smiles.

"We?"

"Marlene, the twins, Sirius, Rem, and James." I counted. The only reason I was still going was that the ticket had been purchased; otherwise, Mother would have taken it away as part of my punishment. "Dorcas can't make it."

At the sound of her name, Dorcas extracted herself from The Weight of Dreams long enough to comment.

"Mary and Peter are coming down to Cornwall for the weekend. You're welcomed, too, if you'd rather not endure Sirius and Mer glowering at each other in silence." She taunted.

"It ruins the mood." Marlene piped in.

I rolled my eyes, swallowing a groan.

"I resent that," I told Dorcas, lips stretching into a saccharine smile. "We haven't done that in months."

No, now we had moved on to veiled arguments and sugar-coated insults. It was oddly better than the quiet.

Dorcas pulled a face at me before going back to her conversation with Marlene, who didn't look too interest in commenting on my rivalry with the former Black heir. Glad no more Sirius comments were flying my way, I turned back to Lily with a look that let her know the only answer I'd accept was a yes.

"It'll be fun…" I enticed.

"Your cousin is obsessed with me, Meredith."

That was a weak excuse, betraying how close to saying yes Lily really was.

"Then you'll sit with me, he'll sit with Sirius, and Marlene will buffer." I gestured towards the latter, whose concentration was mostly on this conversation and not on the book in her hands.

"James's parents are letting us stay over. Sirius told me he's getting firewhiskey and fae-dust." Not that Aunt and Uncle knew, of course. Tilting her head back far enough to make eye contact with Lily, Marlene added, sing-song, "And Remus will likely provide us with enough sweets to make us sick if you ask."

"Okay! If you insist!" Lily surrendered, hands up in defeat.

Of course, it was all a show. Lily Evans had a will of steel. No one made her do anything. I cheered, leaning over to squeeze her in a brief hug. She returned it in earnest, holding it for a moment longer. A silent thank you for what little support I'd been able to offer, for the opportunity to not be left alone at home.

Lily's family might have been making a point of moving on without her, but she would always, always, have a place with us.

Reviews:

OryxGreen: Hi! Meredith and Sirius are my favourite too, which is why even though it's been so long I always keep coming back to it. I definitely have put a lot more thought into it this time around, so chapter turnout might be a little slow, but I am all the more excited to see what you think about how this version will progress since you read the original! Thank you for still being interested even though I stopped uploading A Collage of Broken Hearts in 2018. xx