Author's Note

Read [bracketed] text as struck through :)

Chapter 18: Midnight Sandwiches

A painting of a bowl of fruit hangs on the wall in front of us.

I'd followed Potter back down two flights of stairs, ducked behind one tapestry to hide from Filch (even through as Heads we're technically allowed out past curfew if we have rounds, it felt silly to test that rule THIS late in the night), and took a corridor off the Entrance Hall that seemed to burrow into the ground under the school.

And now, the bowl of fruit.

I watch in scandalized disbelief as Potter reaches out with a finger and tickles the pear, which giggles and squirms and turns into a large green doorknob. Potter takes it confidently, and when he turns it, the whole painting swings out.

I raise my eyebrows, but he just says, "C'mon," and slips inside, leaving me no choice but to follow.

Inside, I find a large room, stretching away into darkness. The only source of light is from the low-burning fire in a huge stone fireplace off to the left, faintly illuminating many clean wooden tables lining the walls, stacks of gleaming silver pots and pans, and, just on the edge to the firelight, four long tables identical to the House tables upstairs in the Great Hall. The whole place smells like wood smoke and butter and yeast and warmth.

"Welcome to the kitchens," Potter says, sweeping a hand out at the room.

"How in the name of Merlin do you...?" I shake my head. "You know what? Never mind. I shouldn't even be surprised, with all the things you get up to. Of course you'd know how to break into the kitchens. Of course."

"Who is in the kitchens so late at night?" The sudden voice makes me jump. A light appears at the far end of the room, bobbing and weaving through the tables and large mixing bowls. It hovers along much lower than it should, maybe around knee-height. "No one is supposed to be in here, no one excepting Noddy and the other house-elves... oh! Mister Potter!" The light stops just a few feet in front of us and now I see it's being carried by a house-elf, dressed for bed in a white pillowcase stamped with the Hogwarts crest and an orange tea cozy for a night hat. "I has not been seeing you for a while!" The elf squeaks, bowing to Potter, holding the candle out to the side. Then he looks at me with large brown eyes. "And Miss Evans!"

I start. "Have we met?"

The little elf looks affronted, eyes going, if possible, even wider than they naturally are. "I should think not. Noddy is most careful to go unseen by the students. 'Tis a mark of a good house-elf: unseen and unheard."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to imply you're a bad house-elf. I only meant - how do you know who I am?"

"We house-elves know all the students," Noddy says sniffily. "But even if we didn't, Noddy would know you, miss! You is the Head Girl, you is. And Noddy is hearing much of the staff talk about you often."

"Oh," I say, unsure how I feel to know the staff talk about me enough this house-elf has heard them gossiping. "All good things, I hope," I say.

Noddy bobs his head. "Yes, miss, all good things." Then his nose reddens in a kind of blush. "Well, mostly good things. Noddy – ahh – shouldn't be saying more, but it wouldn't be all truthful to say all good things. One professor..." he trails off, twisting the corner of his pillowcase.

"It was Professor McGonagall, wasn't it?"

Noddy says nothing, his eyes darting to Potter for help.

I smirk. "I knew it."

"But what is you doing here so late?" Noddy asks again, returning to his original query.

"Just hungry," Potter says. "You don't have any sandwich things lying around, do you?"

The elf's pale green eyes brighten. "Of course we do!" He looks between the two of us, then back to Potter. "Is you needing anything for Misters Lupin, or Black or Pettigrew?"

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks, Noddy. And we've told you, no more of this 'mister' business! First names, please." He smiles at the little elf, who bobs his head, making his large ears fluttera

"Of course, Mister Potter," Noddy squeaks, then scurries away, presumably for the food.

"So... come here often?" I say in the stillness Noddy's departure leaves, looking around the darkened kitchen.

Potter laughs. "Often enough, obviously." He walks over to one of the long tables and, with a quick wave of his wand, draws up a chair. He gives me a hesitant look before tentatively magicking up a second one and sitting down, leaving the first open for me.

"How did you even find this place?" I ask. I walk over to the chair, but don't sit, just put my hands on the back.

Potter shrugs. "We... know our way around Hogwarts pretty well."

"We?" I ask.

"Sirius, Remus, Peter, and I," he says. "I doubt there's anyone else who knows more than we do."

"Filch?" I challenge.

Potter laughs again, leaning back more comfortably in his chair. "We definitely know more."

"Really?" I raise my eyebrows.

"We'd have been caught way more often if we didn't."

"Hmm." I run my fingers along to wood grain of the chair I still haven't sat down in. I suppose that makes sense. I shudder to think how many rules they've broken to have that much knowledge about the castle. "So is it some big Marauder secret as to how you found me tonight too, then?"

Potter pales. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I was hiding in the dark, following the Slytherins in the staff wing – hardly a hub for students – and you appear out of nowhere right behind me. In the dark," I say again. "And after a night out with your buddies..." I scowl. "So what's the secret?"

"Why's there got to be a secret?" he challenges. "Maybe you're not as sneaky as you think and I just followed you up from the Entrance Hall to make sure you weren't going to do anything stupid."

"Please. We both know if someone were going to do something stupid, it'd be you over me." The frustration I've saved up from rounds tonight starts to spill out, and I let go of the back of the chair to fold my arms.

"I resent that," he says.

"Well, I resent that I had to do rounds with Carol tonight. And that you can't just give me a straight answer to anything."

Potter sighs and rubs his hand in his hair, standing it up on end. "Look, Lily, I really am sorry about that, but I couldn't miss tonight, and Carol offered to go for me and..."

"And what? Carol's not a prefect. You know better than to let her go. Or at least you should."

"I should know better? As in, 'stupid James, not cut out to be Head Boy, can't get anything right'? Or, wait, no, sorry, it'd be stupid Potter, wouldn't it?"

"Ahh, no! That's not what I mean! I just mean... I just... I mean, you really did make some stupid decisions tonight, Potter!"

He scowls up at me from where he sits and I've still got my arms folded, glaring down at him, both of us on the verge of shouting. Someone clears their throat with a little cough.

"Noddy is having those sandwiches for you both."

We look around and see Noddy holding a large platter containing not only a half dozen sandwiches, but also a pitcher of pumpkin juice and a tin of biscuits. He's also pulling a hamper I'm assuming holds food for the other Marauders.

"Right. Thanks, Noddy," Potter says, straining to make his voice warmer.

Noddy flits a nervous glance between the two of us. "Well, if neither of you is needing anything else, Noddy will be going back to bed now."

"We're all good," Potter confirms.

"Thanks, Noddy," I say, as the little elf starts to scurry away. "And sorry for – er – interrupting your night."

Noddy bobs his head once more before disappearing into the deep, shadowed recesses of the kitchen.

There's a long pause where Potter and I don't move or look at each other. Then I roughly take a seat and grab a sandwich. "Turns out, I'm starving too," I say around a bite.

Potter picks one up too but doesn't take a bite, just watches me warily.

"It's alright, Potter," I say. "Eat your sandwich. I'm not going to yell at you anymore."

But he still doesn't. Instead, he just looks at it, turning it over in his hands.

"You called me James before," he says, very quietly.

I'm startled by the change in topic. No, I didn't, I'm tempted to say, but I don't. "I know," I say instead.

"So why can't you do it now?" he asks. "What makes it so hard to call me by my name?"

I don't know how to answer him. What can I say? That at this point, saying his name feels like an admission of something I'm not ready for? That using his name feels like a betrayal to Severus? That I'm still not sure I trust the person it seems like he is now? That I'm worried that letting him be just 'James' will make me ignore and forget all the 'Potter' I've had to deal with, might still have to deal with?

"It's just... complicated," I finally say, not meeting his eyes.

I hear James – Potter – sigh, and he leans back, away from me. We're both quiet for a long time, listening to the fire crackle and pop. I continue to eat, and Potter finally takes a couple bites too.

"What if I had good reason?" he says abruptly.

"Huh?" I ask.

"What if I had good reason to make some stupid decisions tonight?"

I pour myself a glass of pumpkin juice. "Then by all means, enlighten me. Do tell, what did you have to do with Black and the rest that justified skipping rounds and letting Carol go instead?" I take a sip. Despite my aggressive words, my tone is straightforward, level. Please, I think. Please just tell me. Show me you trust me, and that I can trust you.

He hesitates, but barely a second. "I can't tell you."

My heart falls. "You can't tell me?" I repeat.

He frowns. "No." His eyes are regretful, but not indecisive.

I sigh. "This is exactly why I can't trust you. I've been trying to, but you keep asking me to turn a blind eye and ignore all these little things. It's clear you're still up to something and you won't tell me." I shake my head and stand. "I'm tired." I give him a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "Thanks for making sure I didn't get beat up by some Slytherins tonight. However you knew that might happen."

Potter watches me, his expression somewhere between frustration and sorrow.

"Don't walk me back, okay?" I say. "Goodnight, Potter."

"Night, Lily," he says, and I leave before his quiet tone can make me stay.

Dear Mum,

Sorry if my letters have been a little lackluster and not conversational enough as of late. [This year is just shaping up to be a right mess.] It's already been a very busy school year. And maybe a bit of a mess. James Potter is keeping me on my toes and my mates and I have different opinions on things and [Tuney won't write back to me] Transfiguration continues to be difficult. Although, while Potter is such a source of stress for me, I HAVE learned loads from him in the last weeks.

Anyways, sorry to just complain. Any advice you can send my way would be greatly appreciated.

Hope all is well with you, and Dad, and Petunia. Give them my love.

Love,

Lily