Author's Note

Posting early today because I can and then I can go to bed at a normal time tonight HA! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE COMMENTS, they really are such a highlight for me. I think you're going to like this one... :)

Professor Dumbledore's Assignment

It's not a minute after eight when I hesitantly approach Professor Dumbledore's office. My steps falter when James pushes out from behind a tapestry hanging on the wall – those Marauders and all their secret passages. He pauses for a moment too when he sees me.

We meet in front of the gargoyle.

"Hey, Lily," James says. His voice is subdued.

"Hello," I say, not looking at him. Par for the course today. The few times I have looked at him scrambled my brain plenty. I know better than that by now. "Should we go up?" I ask, gesturing lamely at the gargoyle.

He shrugs. "I think you'll do what you want."

I wince and address the gargoyle. "Treacle tart."

It steps aside and we climb the spiraling stairs in silence. James's footsteps echo behind mine. I knock on the door at the top. The moment we wait alone stretches too long. Even though he stays a respectable distance away on the step below me, I'm acutely aware of him. He shifts his weight and brings one hand up to fiddle with his hair, and I have the wild urge to apologize and clear this weird tension between us. I don't know if I'd be apologizing for today, or not answering his letters, or just for kissing him in the first place, but the hurt accusation in his tone earlier bothers me.

"James," I start, but before I get any further, the door swings inward and reveals Professor Dumbledore's long silver beard and twinkling blue eyes.

"Miss Evans, Mr. Potter. Perfectly punctual, as expected." He steps aside to let us in. "Come sit. We have much to discuss."

James follows Professor Dumbledore inside without looking at me and, after a moment, I do the same, resolving to apologize after the meeting. We take our usual spots in the armchairs at Dumbledore's desk. I perch on the very edge.

"Thank you both for coming," Professor Dumbledore says, settling into the great gold chair behind his desk.

"Professor, first you need to know what happened over break –" James starts, but Dumbledore cuts him off.

"I already know," he says calmly.

"You do?"

Dumbledore inclines his head. "I met with Miss Evans before the return to school."

"Oh," James says. He glances quickly my way and away again. I can feel his accusation. You should have told me.

"But that wasn't how you found out," I say to Professor Dumbledore instead. "You already knew about the attack when you showed up at my house."

"That is true," Dumbledore admits. "I didn't need you to tell me that it happened; I needed you to clarify some details."

"How'd you know, sir?" James asks.

"It was your loudmouth mates," I accuse, but Dumbledore shakes his head. "No?" I ask, surprised. "But that's what you told me..."

Dumbledore sighs. "That is what I told you, Miss Evans, and it's not altogether a lie; Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black did indeed let me know – rather unknowingly – that it was your sister's wedding where the magic was performed. However, my attention was first brought to this matter when I got a notification from the Ministry the Trace had been broken."

I draw back, frowning.

"The Trace?" James asks. "But that doesn't make any sense. Lily and I are both of age, we wouldn't have set off the Trace."

"No," Dumbledore agrees. "Neither of you would have triggered it. No, it would have to have been someone else performing magic in your same location."

His comment hangs in the air and it takes me a second to understand. "You're telling me one of the Death Eaters – one of the people who attacked me – set off the Trace?" I say disbelievingly.

"Unless... they weren't Death Eaters," James says, and I look at him. I can't even find it in me to be embarrassed when he meets my eyes; I'm too horrified by his implication.

"Not Death Eaters..." I repeat.

He looks right back, and I know we're thinking the same thing. I remember Severus's comment before Rosier had interrupted us in the carriage last night. 'I know who attacked you.'

"The Slytherins," I say, and James nods.

"We can't be sure," Dumbledore says gravely. "But I suspect so, and my suspicions are rarely wrong."

I'm reeling. I mean, I know they hate me, but enough to attack me? To kill me? I shudder, remembering the ground exploding under my feet, and the fire they'd sent at James's heart.

And now I'm expected to attend classes with these same people? Walk around the school knowing they actually, literally want me dead?

"Wait," I say. "But they wouldn't have set the Trace off either. Rosier's of age, and so are Mulciber and Lestrange."

"Regulus isn't," James says, and I curse quietly. Sirius's little brother. Of course. He must not be seventeen yet, must not be allowed to do magic outside of school without the Ministry being alerted.

"What do you mean we can't know for sure?" I ask Dumbledore. "Can't the Ministry tell you who broke the Trace?"

"Unfortunately, that's not how the Trace works," Professor Dumbledore explains. "It only notifies the Department of Improper Use of Magic when and where illegal magic is performed, not who performed it."

"Well, that seems like a flawed system," I mutter, and James snorts.

"Indeed," Dumbledore says. "Therefore, we unfortunately have no way to tell for sure if our suspect group of Slytherins are the culprits."

"It was them," I say definitively. I'm certain it was now that I've remembered Sev still has something to tell me about the attack. I dart a glance at James and then address Professor Dumbledore. "Severus Snape... he told me yesterday he knows who attacked me. It would have to be them."

Dumbledore leans forward, suddenly intent. "Mr. Snape told you this? He said who it was?"

"Well, not yet," I admit. "We didn't have time to talk. But how else could he know, unless it was them?"

"Hmm..." Dumbledore muses. "Miss Evans, I need you to speak with Mr. Snape as soon as possible, then. Find out what he knows."

"I will," I say. "I can talk to him tomorrow."

James shifts uncomfortably.

"Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore prompts.

"It's just... well... what if Snape is lying? Why would he tell Lily if it was the Slytherins? What if he makes something up to cover for them? These are his Housemates, after all, his friends..."

I frown at him, but really, he's not wrong. It's a valid concern. "Even if that's the case," I say, "I still need to talk to him. Anything he says might help us figure out what's going on."

Dumbledore nods. "Very true, Miss Evans. I'll be very interested in what Mr. Snape has to share. It's time for him to choose a side." The way he says it has me glancing curiously at him, but James drops his eyes, glaring at his clenched hands.

"Okay," I say, wanting to move on from Severus. "So, let's assume it is the Slytherins. How would they have even known where to find me? And why come for me?"

"Snape very well could have told them," James says, his voice a growl.

I shake my head. "No, Sev didn't know, remember?" I narrow my eyes at him. "You're the one who broke the wedding news to him at Slughorn's party. And in any case, he had no clue where the wedding was going to take place. No one did. The only way anyone could have known was if they'd seen the wedding invitation..."

The wedding invitation. The one that had gone missing from my desk up in the girls' dormitory. Was that how they knew where to find me? Had they somehow gotten a hold of it? But then who...

And suddenly I'm thinking back to our very first meeting with Dumbledore, a week into the school year, and how he warned we might not even be able to trust those closest to us, and I have a sickening thought.

Emmeline.

Was that what this was? Was Professor Dumbledore right? Could Emmeline have been the one who leaked the wedding location to Rosier? She would have had the access. Her bed is right next to mine, my desk between my bed and hers. It would have been so easy for her to swipe Petunia's wedding invitation off my cluttered desk, knowing I'd blame my general lack of organization skills when I couldn't find it. I can picture her casually dropping the stiff piece of parchment into her school bag to deliver to her boyfriend later.

James reads my expression and understands immediately. His irritation at Severus melts. "Not Emmeline," he says, shaking his head. "She wouldn't do that."

"Then who else?" I croak.

"I don't know," he admits. "But even if she did, she might not have realized what she was doing. I mean, she doesn't think Rosier's evil, does she?"

"I don't know," I say. "But still..." I trail off. My stomach churns. Emmeline. I can't even comprehend it. It's worse than finding out she was dating Rosier in the first place.

James knocks his elbow against mine, and I jump in surprise. Then I glance at Dumbledore, feeling idiotic. He takes my overreaction in stride, ignoring it to address my Emmeline theory.

"I don't know about Miss Vance," he says. "But you know what they say about trusting a niffler with a pocketwatch. I recommend proceeding with caution."

He smiles sympathetically at me, but I swallow and look down, blinking back tears of anxiety and betrayal. Emmeline...

"But I have something else I want to discuss. Your patronus, Miss Evans," Dumbledore says.

I look back up in surprise. "My patronus?"

James shifts again next to me.

"What about it?" I ask.

"That was a very unique use for a patronus, what you did the night of your sister's wedding. Patronuses are usually reserved as a defense against Dark creatures, not as message carriers. Can you tell me how you came to use your patronus to send Mr. Potter a message?"

"I... I don't know," I say, thinking back. "I was just trapped, and alone, and desperate. The Death Eaters – or the Slytherins? - they had me so outnumbered. I guess I thought of a Patronus Charm since we'd been studying them all last term, and since patronuses are supposed to protect."

"Did you send one to Mr. Potter specifically?" Dumbledore asks.

I squirm in my chair. I'm back to not being able to look James's way. He's perfectly still, body angled in my direction.

"I mean..." I say. I sit on my hands so I don't start drumming them anxiously on Professor Dumbledore's desk. "Yes, I guess? I didn't even know if it would work, but I knew I needed help, and I knew James..." I trail off. I want to swallow my tongue, but Dumbledore is still looking at me expectantly. "I knew he'd come if he could," I finish, my voice soft.

"And it did work," Professor Dumbledore says, thankfully shifting his attention to James. "You received Miss Evan's patronus?"

"Yes, sir," James says, but I can see in my periphery he's still looking at me. "Showed up in the middle of my dad's study."

"Did it say anything?"

Even though I'm still not looking at him I'm listening intently to what James has to say, curious what it had been like to be on the receiving end of my unusual patronus.

"Yes," James says. His voice is quiet again. "It screamed for help. It... it sounded just like Lily." He swallows. "And then it disappeared and I apparated to the wedding as soon as I got outside." He pauses again, and I dare to glance at him. He's already looking at me. "I've never seen or heard of anything like it. How did you do that, Lily?"

"I don't know," I admit. "I cast the charm like normal, but like I said, I needed help, and I thought of..." I can't quite bring myself to finish the sentence, especially not when I'm looking at him like this. I needed help, and I thought of you. "... I thought of patronuses and..." I trail off and look at Professor Dumbledore. "How did it work?"

"This is fascinating," Dumbledore says. "That you stumbled upon this patronus usage quite by accident."

"So you've never heard of this, either?" James asks.

"Quite the opposite," Professor Dumbledore says. "No, I have actually been working on refining this very use for patronuses, sending messages. And I'd like to teach you both."

I raise my eyebrows. Dumbledore stands and sweeps around the table. "As I discussed with you before Christmas, I am growing increasingly dissatisfied with how the Ministry is choosing to handle the rise of Lord Voldemort. I have indeed started forming a group of witches and wizards I trust who are dedicated to fighting Dark magic – witches and wizards who are not still in school," he says emphatically, smiling at James, who has already opened his mouth to volunteer, I'm sure.

James looks mutinous, but Dumbledore continues, leaning against the front of his desk to address us. "However, I think it would be very beneficial for the two of you to know what is going on outside of Hogwarts with both Voldemort's efforts and the Order of the Phoenix – my group," he clarifies at my questioning look. "This is part of why I want you to learn this patronus messaging. Furthermore, Professor Slughorn has approached me about the Minister of Magic visiting this term to observe some of my older students' magical abilities. I am tasking you both to create this group of students to present to the Minister, as well as teach the patronus messaging. I fear leaving this task to Horace will have him overlooking students who deserve to be acknowledged, and, I admit, I want to work closely with this Ministry interaction. Can the two of you do this?"

I don't need to check with James to know his answer. "Yes, sir," I say, just as he answers, "Of course."

"I expected nothing less," Professor Dumbledore says. "And I would like it if you made an effort to include students who do not come from pureblood families. Some," he adds, smiling at James, "are okay, but it would be good to represent all blood statuses. In turn, I will keep you updated on the challenges my group and I deal with." He straightens. "We will meet again soon. I am very proud of how you handled yourselves over holidays, and I'm immensely glad you are both safe and unharmed."

We stand.

"Thank you," I say, shaking his hand. "I'm glad too."

James mimics my handshake and then we exit together from Professor Dumbledore's office and back down the spiraling stairs. My mind thrums with all Dumbledore tasked us with. It's a lot to process, but I can't deny I'm excited; I'm thrilled at the anticipation of finally being able to do something more than the vague 'keep an eye on things' we'd been doing before holidays. I'm so caught up in my thoughts I barely pay my surroundings any attention as I move on instinct back towards Gryffindor Tower.

It's only when I try to take the corner and stumble into James in the process that I remember he's here, too. He steadies me, and his hands burn too hot where he catches me.

I pull away.

"Going to take off without me? Ignore me all the way back to the common room?" James asks as I step around him to continue down the corridor.

I stop. "No," I say.

It'd be a fool's hope thinking he'd let me get away now, but I'm nothing if not a fool. About him. For him.

I don't turn as I listen to his footsteps coming closer.

"That's what you've been doing since we got back, though," he says. He comes around to stand right in front of me, but I can't meet his eyes.

"Sorry," I tell the floor.

"Except it hasn't just been since we got back, has it?" he says. I don't have to look at him to know that he's running a hand through his hair. I just know him that well now, know all his little habits and reactions. "You didn't answer any of my letters either... and before that..."

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it...

"Before that, you ran. You kissed me, and then you ran away."

I can't help it – I look up at him.

I don't know what I was expecting to see, but it wasn't this. It wasn't the crinkled brow, or the defeated slump to his shoulders. It wasn't the hurt.

"James…"

"So I'm 'James' again, then?" He meets my eyes, and it's the first time since the night of the wedding I don't immediately look away. I can't; he's too vulnerable, too sad. It's an emotion I'm not sure I've ever seen on him. "What's going on, Lily? Because I thought..." This time it's him that breaks eye contact. "I thought maybe something was happening with us. Between us." He kicks the wall, but it's not an angry action, just a contemplative one, like he needs to be reminded the walls around him are solid. Reliable.

"I..." I start, but I'm not really sure what I'm going to say, and it doesn't matter anyway, because James keeps going, pacing back and forth in front of me and talking to himself more than to me.

"Maybe I made it all up. Am I just imagining everything? Because if I am, that's fine, I can deal with that, I can. But what I can't deal with is this... this stupid game you've been playing the last couple of days. I don't get it! Why are you avoiding me? Why won't you at least talk to me?" He rubs his hair, pushing it off his forehead and out of his eyes.

I watch him. I'm as still as the stone walls, but nowhere near as reliable, and deep inside his frustration fractures me.

"But I can't have made up everything," he says. "You..." Finally, he stills too, looking right at me. "You kissed me," he says. "I don't know why, but it happened, and I have to know what it meant." He hesitantly reaches out and flicks the end of my braid hanging over my shoulder, then drops his hand and looks away. "And if it was nothing, just a thrill of the moment kind of thing, like I said, that's fine. Just... just don't leave things like this, Lily."

"Like what?" I whisper. "Why do you care?" The question has been haunting me since I heard Carol ask him on the stairs this morning.

He laughs once, short and a little bit incredulous. "C'mon, Lily. I know you know. It's taken you so long, but you have to know by now. Everyone does." He shakes his head. "I thought I could hide it but... well, I knew it was hopeless as soon as my Head badge came in the mail. Because of course you were going to be Head Girl, of course I knew that meant we'd have to find a way to work together all year. All I wanted was to end the school year and have you think I wasn't the worst person in the world to be Heads with. All I wanted was for you not to hate me so much."

"I don't hate you," I say quietly.

"But you did! And that's okay, I get it. I was a complete arse before this year." He allows himself a self-deprecating laugh. "I just hoped you'd be able to see me as more than that this year."

"You know I do see you as more, James," I say, still quiet.

"I do know," he says. "But what I don't know is how much more. Because, I'll be honest, this year has gone... so much better than I ever dared hope. I mean, sure, there've been some... bumps... but it's been mostly good. It's been so good." He smiles disbelievingly, but then he sighs. "At least that's what I thought. Because there was the wedding, and you kissed me, and I thought..." He trails off and rubs his hair again. "But you've been avoiding me ever since and now all I can do is wonder if I mean anything at all to you."

For some reason, it's that sentiment that finally breaks my paralysis. If he means anything at all to me? For all his talk about me not knowing things, he's sure oblivious himself. Was all that wedding stuff not obvious enough for him? The letters? The kiss?

"Well, obviously you mean something to me," I say.

"Really?" he says. He looks genuinely surprised. And skeptical.

"Yes, you do," I say, frustrated. "Of course you do."

He regards me, eyebrows raised.

Incredulity makes me brave. "I kissed you, didn't I?"

"Yes you did..." he muses. And then he has the gall to roll his eyes. "But you also ran away from me right after. And ignored me ever since."

I suppose when he puts it that way, I can almost see how he might come to the conclusion that I didn't actually fancy the pants off him. But really. He has to know, right? And of course I ran away after that humiliating display after the wedding. What else was I supposed to do?

"Because I was embarrassed!" I burst out.

"Embarrassed?"

"YES! I mean, I wasn't planning on kissing you! I wasn't planning on doing anything like that at all!" I'm semi-shouting, I don't know why, but then I get quiet. "I didn't want you to know," I admit, looking down.

"Know...?"

Merlin, this boy is going to make me spell everything out, isn't he? "That I... you know..." My face flames. I stare very determinedly at the pattern the stone tiles make on the floor. I'm never going to be able to look at him again, not in the whole rest of my life. If James wants to look in my eyes ever again, he'll have to wait till I'm dead and hope they don't glue my eyelids shut. "...have feelings for you," I finish, and it's so quiet I wonder if he'll even hear me.

A long moment passes. It's killing me not to know what's on his face, but I can't look now.

He taps my chin up. "Well, that's the best thing I've heard all year," he says. His voice is soft and the smile breaking across his face is very nearly unbearable.

"It's against my better judgment, mind you," I mutter. I try to look away but James still has his hand hooked under my chin and the gentle pressure encourages my gaze to stay locked with his.

"I can live with that," he says, and takes a step closer.

I step back though, and his hand falls. "You never answered my question," I say. The wary side of me shies away, fighting for that one last chance at escape, clinging to all my reservations about James before something happens I can't take back.

James tips his head. "What question?"

"Why do you care?" I whisper. "Why does it matter what that kiss meant? Why does it matter how I feel about you?"

"Why do I care?" James repeats. He rubs his forehead, half amused, half exasperated. "I thought I already answered that." He steps forward again, but this time I don't move, and it's not because the wall's right behind me, because it's not. I could step away if I wanted to. But I don't. I don't want to. "Don't you know how I feel about you?" He moves again, and this brings him right into my space. The mere inches between us spark.

"Um... no? I mean... maybe?" I squeak.

He drops his forehead to mine. "Can I tell you?"

He's much too close for any part of me to be thinking rationally right now. I run my fingers down the side of his face, and James shivers and catches them. He presses his mouth to the center of my palm before twining our hands together.

I pull him closer. "Yes."

When his lips find mine, it's with a rush of familiarity, and relief, and oh my goodness what have I been doing avoiding James the last few days? Avoiding this?

I've been such an idiot.

And when he pulls back, it's definitely too soon.

"Do you know now?" he says. My eyes stay closed but I can hear the smile running under his words.

"No," I say, and I lean back into him, standing on tip-toe to kiss him again.

I don't let him pull away again, not for a long time.

Because this kiss is different from the one at the wedding. There's no way I can hope to pretend this didn't happen, no way he can justify it as a thrill-of-the-moment kind of thing. This feels like the future shifting and spinning away from me, and I want – need – evidence that this isn't a mistake. That what we're both feeling is reliable, and real.

And, I think, so does he.

/

It's... umm... much later when we decide to head back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Don't read too much into this," I warn. It's my old adage to Mum, but now James gets it. "Just because we've kissed twice doesn't mean we're together or anything."

"Whatever you say, Lily," James says, grinning. He brims with exuberance, so much so he's practically skipping down the corridor. He should feel lucky it's too late for anyone else to be around and see this; he'd lose all his cool factor immediately. "And what do you mean kissed twice? That was definitely more than twice."

"You know what I mean," I mutter, flushing. Even if he's right. Technically, what just happened counted as a second kiss, and a third… and maybe even a fourth. I clear my throat. "And I'm not kidding," I say. "You've still got secrets in the way."

"Is that what all your weird avoidance has been about?" James says, twisting around to walk backwards in front of me.

"Of course!"

"I thought you trusted me?" he says cheekily; I'd said as much at the wedding.

"Not completely." I want to be exasperated at him, but I just can't right now. Not while I'm faced with that grin. Not after that kiss. "Wasn't that the whole point of this?" I pull the Marauder's Map out of my pocket. "Because excuse me, Potter, but this –"

"Is brilliant? A magnificent feat of magic? Because you're right, it definitely is."

"I mean, yes, it is, it's actually kind of incredible. But that's not the point! This isn't even your biggest secret?" I wave it in his face. "Because this is huge. This is a big bloody secret."

"And I told you about it," James says.

"Rightfully so," I sniff. "Seeing as I'm the reason it even works."

"I mean, we would have figured it out eventually," James says. "But you definitely helped us along."

I can't help it – I grin too.

"Really," I say, so he knows I'm serious. "It's amazing. I can't believe you guys did this. Here." I hand it back to him. "Thanks for letting me see it."

"Thanks for keeping it safe. Sirius was appalled when he found out you had it."

"Psh. Black should know I'm responsible."

"That's kind of the problem – he was worried you'd take it to McGonagall or someone."

"I would never! And in any case, like McGonagall would even care. She's so soft on all of you, it doesn't make any sense."

"It's because we're all good at her subject," James teases. I hit him.

We climb back through the portrait hole and into the common room. The atmosphere is sleepy, only a few students milling around, most doing homework or relaxing with their mates after a busy first day.

I look around, unsure what to do now. I hadn't thought ahead to how what happened between James and me will affect what we're like around other people. I meant what I said; I don't think he should read all too much into that kiss... perfect as it was...

Secrets, Lily! He has lots of secrets!

Right.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts.

"I'm heading up to bed," I say. "It's been a weirdly exhausting day. And I want to get up early so I can eat the whole breakfast buffet in the morning. I'm severely undernourished these days."

"Don't think I haven't noticed," James says, rolling his eyes. "Why do you think I skipped dinner?"

I side-eye him. "You weren't at dinner so that I would go eat?"

"Obviously," he says, and I don't know whether to be disgruntled or touched.

"Well, thanks," I say. "I really needed that meal. Sorry I was being such an idiot though."

"I'm getting used to it. You're a right mess, remember?"

He surprises me into a laugh. "Right," I say. "That's me – Lily Evans, Head Girl and perpetual mess."

"Among other things," he says, and dang it if his face isn't the most mischievous I've ever seen it.

"Bed!" I say. "I'm going to bed!" Before he (or, let's be honest, I) can do anything rash in the middle of this very public common room.

"Of course you are," he says, grinning. "You're very good at this running off business."

I escape up the stairs to the girls' dormitory before he can better expound what that means.