Title: Contractual Courtship
Chapter: 04 – Only The Young
Author: Killaurey
Rating: T
Word Count: 7,696
Summary: Being called a Mudblood is absolutely the last straw with Snape. She's not done with Slytherins in general, though, and with help from her girlfriends, Lily embarks on an attempt to court one. She's not expecting to find true love but, if it happens, she's not going to complain.
Disclaimer: I don't own HP. It's probs better that way but wouldn't it be fun?
Potter opens his mouth, looking like a guppy, then closes it.
He says, blankly, "I don't have a girlfriend."
"Wow," Dorcas says. "That's a new low. Your poor girl."
"It's a tragedy," Lily says. "I was almost starting to think you were turning a new leaf, becoming something more than a toerag. But if you're going to treat your girlfriend like she doesn't exist... I feel so sorry for her."
Potter looks like he's been hit in the face with a Beater's bat.
Lily doesn't even know what his problem is.
"Hey, Beth," she says. "You done eating? I wanted to go check the library-you mentioned needed a Herbology book? Want to come with?"
"Oh! Yeah!" Beth says. "Hang on, I'm coming! Anyone else need anything?"
"I'm good," Dorcas tells them, waving them off with her fork.
Marlene and Mary have things they'd rather be doing, too-though Marlene looks distinctly shark-like as she eyes Potter speculatively; Black's no help, still needling Potter about having a girlfriend and not telling him of all people-so it winds up being just her and Beth walking through the halls towards the library.
"Can you believe him?" Lily says. "The look on his face! It was like he'd dumped salt on the world's worst paper-cut."
"I know," Beth says. "And denying that he's got a girlfriend? That's just awful of him! Oh, I hope Valerie didn't hear that."
"Either one of them," Lily agrees. "Since, like, it seems to be a secret. Did you hear that Jessamine Winham told Katie Yan that Valerie Boot just smiles whenever anyone asks her about it? I overheard Yan telling a few girls in the loo this morning."
"No," Beth says. "I did hear that Valerie Stimpson starts stammering every time it comes up, but that she's not yet denied or agreed about it. Just-stammering."
"I wonder who it is," Lily muses. "Both of those are, like, great reactions. It could be a love story from either side of things, you know?"
Beth laughs. "Aren't you supposed to be absorbed in your own love story right now, though? That's way more important than Potter's."
"I'm trying not to think about it too hard because, if I do, I'm just going to be ill," Lily confesses. "It's Sunday. We're already halfway. That's a lot."
"Fingers crossed for you," Beth says. "If he doesn't want you, though, he's absolutely bonkers."
Lily does not point out that the Blacks have a reputation for being 'absolutely bonkers' on occasion.
"Is there anyone you like?" Lily asks. "Sorry, I've been so caught up in my love story that I haven't thought much of you guys."
"Me?" Beth frowns a little. "I mean, there's a bunch of cute guys, but none I'm desperate to get to know better. If anyone needs a guy right now, it's Mary."
"Oh, I know," Lily sighs. "But she's asked me not to do anything about the matter until she's ready for her vengeful goddess mode. She's still stuck in bitterness. I don't think Derek's even dating Burbage. I think he just wanted to get a rise out of Mary..."
They spend the rest of the walk casually ripping apart Derek's character-this sort of gossip, being old news, won't be of interest to anyone outside of their circle-and, in short order, they've claimed seats near the tall, faceted windows in the library. Beth with her Herbology book, Lily with one on Ancient Runes.
"Prefects meeting tonight, right?" Beth asks, maybe an hour later, around the time Lily's starting to want to get up, walk the aisles to stretch her legs, and dreamily think of touching earth just to feel the life of it.
"That's right," Lily says. "Time to hammer out the actual schedule for the next few weeks of patrols and get everyone figured out and paired up. It's a bit too early to start planning for Yule or Christmas, so that won't come up, but..."
"What about a Halloween party?" Beth suggests. "Like, we always do the feast, but a dance would be more fun. Have a feast, but have dancing too. Maybe a haunted house for the younger kids."
Lily frowns a little. "I don't know that they'll go for it. It's pretty rare to do an event for Halloween."
But, obligingly, she fishes out a spare bit of parchment to make a note of it.
"I do like dancing, though," she admits.
Beth grins at her. "I hear the Blacks learn dancing from the time they are able to toddle."
"You're a terrible human being," Lily says loftily, well aware of the way a blush is trying to crawl up the back of her neck. "And, like, what if I can't keep up with his dancing? I'd be so embarrassed!"
And that's only if he accepts the contract in the first place but Lily is ignoring that because to obsess about that means madness.
Er. More madness.
"He probably does dance better than you," Beth says, after a moment. "Not that you're terrible or anything, but you've only had the lessons sparingly, right?"
"Yes," Lily admits. "I'd like to join the dance club but they hold their practices at the same time as choir and it'd break Sir Toadington Symthe the Third and Dorcas' hearts if I dropped out of choir now. Besides, I like choir."
She's not any great shakes at singing, she never gets the lead in any song, but Lily enjoys singing with a crowd, making her voice blend in with others, and it had been, once upon a time, a great way to learn about Wizarding culture.
Music tells so many stories, after all.
In every new beginning, she learns a little more of how the world her magic has entitled her to join functions.
"I didn't realize they were at the same time," Beth says, frowning. "Though I guess that makes sense. I do only see you at practices when we're doing joint ones, for shows."
"If dance was held on different days, I'd probably over-stretch myself, since I'm busy enough already, but I'd love to go," Lily says. "But there's no way the schedule is going to be rearranged for me."
"Definitely not," Beth says. "Dance has been on the same days at the same times for over a decade now. Professor Tango says that consistency is important for building discipline and refuses to adjust their schedule."
"So that's not happening," Lily says. "I'm not sure where else I'd learn dance."
"I'd offer to help," Beth says, "but I'm a terrible teacher. I get frustrated easily when people don't understand it."
Lily, knowing this is true, just smiles and shrugs, and Beth smiles and shrugs back and, for a while, they both turn their attention to their books.
It's better to get assignments done quickly, so they don't pile up. Lily knows good and well that as soon as one thing falls behind, everything else tends to start falling too. It cascades from one thing to another and digging out from that is always an uphill battle.
Much better to not have to decode the signs of new topics while also under pressure.
Maybe an hour later, with good effort done on both their parts, they take a break to stretch and look out the windows. The sun is out.
"Maybe we should go study outside," Beth says. "Round up the girls, if any want to come."
Lily sets her quill to the side, waiting for the ink to dry enough that it can be put away.
"Mary and Marlene said they were busy," Lily says thoughtfully. "I think Marlene's got Quidditch to sort out. Don't envy her that, with Potter, but at least she enjoys playing the game. Dorcas... maybe? Anise and Bettina might be free, too."
"And even if they're not, once people see we're out there, you know others are going to come out too," Beth says. "In fact, I think-"
"Evans!" A flustered 4th Year Ravenclaw hurries up to her. She thinks his name is Keegan, but she isn't quite sure. Ravenclaws have a tendency to keep to themselves, many of them, and Lily, contrary to what Potter thinks, doesn't know everyone. "We need a Prefect down by the tapestry of the kneeling knight–it's the first years!"
"I'll pack your things," Beth says promptly.
"Thanks!" Lily says, already up and out of her chair. The Ravenclaw keeps pace with her and, given that it's obviously Prefect business, they're graced with only a dirty look from the librarian for having disturbed the peace.
"What's going on?" she demands, as they leave the library.
"I'm not really sure," the maybe-Keegan admits. "But there was a whole crowd of them, and shouting and Lycoris said you were in the library with Botts, she'd just left there–"
"I hear it," she says grimly. She does not draw her wand. Lily learned the hard way, last year, that drawing your wand is considered an act of aggression by people already upset–which, in retrospect, ought to be obvious–and so, unless she needs it, she leaves it away.
She puts on an extra burst of speed and skids around the corner.
It's pandemonium.
Her first glance counts more than ten–at least half of which are red faced with either tears or fury–and there's a lot of wands out, but also a lot of fists and shouting going on.
Lycoris Atwater, a very pretty 4th Year Ravenclaw, is holding a sobbing firstie and looks completely overwhelmed.
It could be worse, Lily consoles herself. They could know enough magic to actually cause damage to each other.
"Go see if Lycoris needs help," she orders, and as soon as maybe-Keegan scuttles away from her, she draws herself up.
A second count gives her seventeen firsties and she hopes this is something that she doesn't need back up for because the two Ravenclaws with her can't seem to handle one crying child, let alone seventeen.
But I've got this.
Lily doesn't need her wand to be heard over all of this.
She can out-shout anyone.
"That is ENOUGH!"
Immediate silence, shocked and terrified, falls over the hallway. It's broken only by a few of the firsties crying.
"That's better," she says, doing her very best (which was very good indeed) to channel Professor McGonagall at her most disapproving. "Everyone, line up against the wall."
They don't move.
"Immediately," she snaps, turning her head and feeling her hair crackle with magic. Thankfully, she's got it back in a braid today. Maybe no one will notice.
There's a mad scramble to do what she's ordered.
Once they're all lined up, she walks the length of the line–she tries not to sigh or laugh when she sees that Lycoris and maybe-Keegan have joined the line; I didn't think I had to specify who had to line up, and now she can see that the sobbing firstie is Mallory–and frowns at the carnage.
"Everyone who is injured," she says. "Raise your hands."
Half of them go up.
Lily makes all of them stay in that line as she walks down it, checking on the kids, healing the bruises and scrapes and marks and keeping a mental tally of who did what to whom.
It also gives her a chance to get all of their names really settled and, by the end of it, there's only one girl who she can't heal off-hand, a brown-haired lass who says her name is Agathe Timmins. Her ankle is very definitely sprained and possibly broken.
"Now," Lily says, "we're going to wrap this up good, and then we'll be going to see Madam Pomfrey, in the Hospital Wing."
She's not one of the weepy children and takes this news with a grave sort of equanimity. The colour of her tie is green and silver.
"Is it broken, then?" Agathe asks her.
"I don't believe so," Lily says slowly, running her wand alongside the ankle again. She doesn't know any good diagnostics, really, but the one she does know tells her this is beyond her ability to heal. "But sprains are nasty enough because if they heal wrong, they make it more likely you'll just get hurt again later. Best to have Madam Pomfrey look after it properly."
"Keegan and I can take her to the Hospital Wing, Lily," Lycoris says. "You can't be expected to be in two places at once."
"Is that all right with you?" Lily asks Agathe. "I'll come by afterwards to check in on you."
Agathe's cheeks flush. "I'm not a baby!"
"No one said you were," Lily says briskly. "But everyone deserves visitors when they're stuck in the Hospital Wing. All right?"
She gets a grudging nod and beams. Agathe ducks her head sheepishly.
"You and Keegan can take her now," Lily says. "I will be by later, but I don't want the injury to wait. Not while I have sixteen other students to deal with."
There's a meepy noise from one of them. She doesn't see which one.
"Lily means it," Lycoris says, as she helps Keegan get Agathe settled on his back. "There's three kinds of kindnesses, did you know? And she's got all of them."
Lily frowns a little, wondering what on earth the different kinds of kindnesses are before dismissing that as 'Ravenclaw weirdness, something to possibly ask Mary about later', and, as they turn a corner, she turns her attention back to the swarm of misbehaved firsties.
"Not even a week here," she says severely. "And already in trouble. Who wants to tell me what started this?"
None of them want to tell her what happened.
While she waits for the silence to kill them-they're fidgeting already-Lily walks down the line again, this time idly counting House colours and checking the gender divide. There's sixteen of them, now that Agathe Timmins has been escorted away to get her ankle looked after.
Well, Lily decides. It could be worse. Six boys, ten girls, and we've got five Gryffindors, four each of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and three Slytherins-four of Slytherin, too, if we include Agathe. Okay, so it's unlikely to have been a brawl about Houses, given all four of them are basically evenly represented.
Lily has a terrible, horrible, sinking feeling in the bottom of her stomach that this is probably about blood. It's either that or gender and, in the Wizarding World, gender inequality isn't really a problem, not like it is in the Muggle world.
"Miss Marchand," she says, and Mallory flinches at the use of her last name. "What happened?"
Mallory does not want to talk, her face still puffy with tears, but Lily slowly drags the whole story out of all of them, bits and pieces at a time. Sometimes all she gets is one sentence from one child before having to try to get something from another.
It feels like she's following a sequence of impossible dreams but, well, she shelves her irritation and focuses on the task at hand.
"Alright," Lily says, once she feels she's gotten enough of the story to follow what had happened. "I see what happened now. I am incredibly disappointed in all of you, for the record. If you have questions, ask them, do not go off on your classmates for not believing the same things that you do."
"We heard some of the older kids saying it though," Ericson Potlemy says. Ravenclaw. "And they'd know, wouldn't they? Ravenclaw's full of people who're really smart, everyone knows that."
"We told you it was wrong," one of the Slytherin boys snapped. "And our House would know. We're the ones who keep to tradition."
"That's enough, Conti," Lily says, though she says it without heat. The Slytherin boy, Matteo Conti, looks at her sharply, then subsides when she smiles faintly at him.
She happens to agree with him so it's a weird feeling to have to shut him up.
But I can't let this argument get going again, Lily thinks and racks her brain for how to handle it. She could and probably should just slap them all with point losses and then free them to continue doing what they're doing and wash her hands of it.
Most Prefects would do that. She knows that.
And if I do that, there's just going to be more fighting and more arguing and more time for lines to be drawn between them...
So... what am I going to do with them?
Her preference, a perfect answer of some kind falling into her lap, seems to be missing in action, so Lily is going to have to go the imperfect way, winging it, and hope it works out okay.
"Alright," she says, "you know, if I were any other prefect, I'd slap you on the wrist and set you free to cause more chaos today. I'm not, though, so you're all getting a five point deduction-" she rattles off the points from each of their Houses "-and now, we're all going to go outside and have a history lesson."
"From you?" asks Flannery Morrison, Hufflepuff.
"Yes," she says, rather grimly.
"You can't make us go," protests Natalie Rills, Gryffindor.
"Shut up, Nat," hisses Mallory Marchand, Gryffindor. "Listen to Miss Lily."
The other children shuffle anxiously and Lily takes a little bit of pity on them.
"You'll be able to sit down," she says, putting a winsome note into her voice. "And we'll have snacks. It won't be like a class with Professor Binns."
They giggle nervously at that and Sasha Hamilton, Ravenclaw, mutters that no one is as boring as Professor Binns.
"Everyone, follow me," she orders, and to her own bemusement, they do.
She tries to take a path through the castle that won't have everyone gawking at them-her and her train of baby ducklings-but some people do see them and there's no getting around that or whatever rumours wind up spreading because of it.
She leads them down to the lakeside where Beth is and she loves Beth ferociously for, after taking a look at her and her army of firsties, Beth immediately hops to her feet and begins expanding the picnic blankets so that there's room for everyone to sit down.
Lily takes count of them, as they do.
...I've gained children. They've multiplied.
And, to her dismay, multiplied is very nearly the right word for it.
"Why do you have, like, thirty firsties with you?" Beth asks, leaning close, her voice a whisper that won't travel.
"I started with sixteen," Lily mutters back. "I have no idea where the other fourteen came from."
But there's-there's nothing to be done now except either stage a great and daring escape (unfortunately, the easiest way would be to go right into the pond and Lily isn't fond of giant squid, mermen, or grindylows amongst other things) or to make like she's got this under control and hope for the best.
... Hope for the best doesn't seem to be coming through right now but, well...
I'm an eternal optimist! I can do this!
"Can I get you to do me one more big, big favour?" Lily asks, watching as the kids sort themselves into little groups. The friend groups aren't set yet and neither are House loyalties. They're all mingled in together and that, more than anything, makes her feel a bit like smiling. "Last one for the day, promise."
"All right," Beth says, after a moment of considering. "But it a) can't be me speaking to all of these babies and b) you owe me."
"It's not option a, solemnly swear," Lily says. "It's just, I promised them all snacks. I totally owe you, name your price."
Beth laughs. "Alright, I can do that. We'll talk about the cost later, though, and you have to give me a suitably impressive introduction."
"You are the best, Beth," Lily says. "I love you so much."
"Save it for your adoring public, Evans," Beth says. "I'll be right back."
Beth doesn't run, exactly, but she hustles away with a purposeful spring in her step. Lily follows her with her gaze, realizing that Beth's not wrong about the public bit. In addition to her swarm of firsties, it's a beautiful day outside and other people are beginning to notice that something is going on.
"Alright," Lily says, pasting on a smile. "Now, I know why some of you are here-why are the rest of you?"
One little girl raises her hand. She's got fabulous dark curls and blue eyes and Lily can already tell she's going to break hearts in a few years. She's got a yellow and black tie on.
"What's your name?" Lily asks. "And why are you here?"
"Deanna Walker, Hufflepuff," the little girl says. "And, well, it looked like fun?"
"I heard there'd be snacks!" chimes in a boy wearing a blue and bronze tie.
This gets a round of giggles throughout most of the firsties. Despite herself, Lily laughs and claps her hands, getting everyone's attention.
"That's right," she says. "Snacks are coming. You all just saw the real pretty girl leaving, right? That's one of my best friends, Beth Botts. Who here knows what her family does for a living?"
"Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans!" crows one of the Gryffindor boys, Horatio Beckham.
"Every flavour?" a girl wearing a green and silver tie asks her neighbours. They look startled that she doesn't already know this and Lily can see the hurt that flashes across the girl's face at their looks.
Even now, I bet it's rough being a muggleborn in Slytherin, Lily thinks with sympathy. They still pride themselves on tradition and wizarding culture.
But that's what this is all about, isn't it?
It's a little more complicated than that and a little less, too, given that it was a fight between a bunch of kinds who are all eleven, but it's something Lily can build on.
While she waits for Beth, she gets the names of the fourteen new kids, and considers how to approach this. It's tempting to think she can turn this into a stirring speech, a rousing history lesson, something that will get them all firmly committed to not being glued to out-dated ideals about blood prejudice, but she's well aware that even in her year, most of her classmates aren't going to sit around listening to something like that.
Even if she did, say, promise them snacks.
By the time Beth's back, along with a couple of House Elves carrying hampers, Lily has decided what she's going to say.
Kind of.
It's still a bit of a work in progress but she thinks she can see a light at the-
That's it. Light.
It takes everything she's got not to bounce with delight when she realizes that there's an easy way to drive the point she wants to make home without making it a huge thing. It's still going to be, ugh, teachery but there's no helping that.
She's literally got a class-sized amount of firsties staring at her.
"Alright," Lily says, once everyone's got snacks and has settled in and–oh sweet Merlin, she's going to pretend she doesn't see the other people looking interested in what's going on because that pile is growing too and, a quick count shows that three more firsties have shown up, squirming their way onto the blankets and helping themselves to snacks—and she's…
She's just going to focus. She's got this. She has to. It's too late to back out now.
Do or die, in grand Gryffindor fashion, she thinks wryly, but somehow the thought comforts her too.
"As you can all see, I've made good on my promise of snacks," she says. "Now, those of you who are meant to be here need to make good on your promise to me and listen to a story."
They have not, actually, made any promises to her, but none of her original sixteen seem bothered by her claiming that they have.
Sugar is a hell of a drug. It's the only explanation. She cannot possibly be worth listening to. Can't everyone see she has no idea what she's doing here?
"Those of you who have just shown up for fun, well, I don't know why you've got nothing better to do with your first weekend at Hogwarts," she says, and some of the firsties giggle at her. "But it's going to be interesting," in so many ways, "and I hope you'll stick around."
No, she really doesn't, but she's got to say something and telling them to go away just… it seems mean. Besides, if she can obfuscate the reason she dragged a bunch of firsties out here, the less likely it is that someone is going to claim she overstepped her powers as Prefect.
Which I guess I did. Though looking at the faces around me, I think they're okay with that, and honestly, if this works the way I want it to, the more of them I've got around, the better. Larger sample size. Easier for the story to be spread about.
Madness. Absolutely baffling.
"How many of you have had Charms yet?" Lily asks, and only about half of them raise their hands. "How about History?"
This gets a different segment of the group raising their hands.
"Don't worry if you haven't haven't had either class," Lily says, assuring the few who look heartbroken that they can't raise their hands for either option. "It's just, this story connects both of them."
She pulls her wand out with a flourish and, because she can, casts a silent lumos so that the tip of her wand glows bright. At night, it would shine as brilliant as any torch could hope to. It the daylight, it's more anemic but still visible.
"The Lumos Charm," she says, "is one of the simplest you'll ever learn. In fact, it's the very first one that Professor Flitwick will teach you. How many of you know of this spell?"
About three-quarters of the crowd of firsties does.
"How many of you can cast this spell?" she asks, as a follow up, and some of the hands go down. About half stay up, though, and she knows to look at them that they're mostly Purebloods. Some of the ones she's about certain are Muggleborns are looking uneasy and anxious.
Lily smiles at all of them.
"You misunderstood the question," she says, gently and encouragingly. "All of you are witches and wizards. All of you can cast this spell, even if you haven't yet. Hands up, everyone!"
Some of them even put both arms up and the forest of waving hands and beaming faces makes her feel a little less like she's going to throw up.
(Lily decides she's never, ever going to be a teacher. This is a profession not for her. No Lilys Allowed.)
"Yes, good!" she says. "Now, this is a very, very old story about this charm. It's one of the oldest that's ever existed. In fact, it may even have been, once upon a time, the very first charm ever..."
The story Lily weaves for the firsties is one that she originally learned as a firstie herself, a handful of years ago seems like so much further away. She'd found it referenced in the annals of past choir performances, been intrigued by the title, and had spent the next few months haunting the library looking for anything she could find on it.
Lily has never found a complete version of the story, but the bits and pieces she's put together go like this:
Once upon a time, the world was nothing but darkness. The Dark existed in peaceful solitude and time wove around it like strands of a knitted sweater. Had the Dark never realized that it existed, never woke up to the fact there was nothing else, perhaps the entire world would really have never existed.
But the Dark did, wake up, and realized it was all alone and, more, understood that it was alone.
"And it hated that," Lily tells her audience.
But it didn't know what to do about that. It had never done anything before. It just was.
The Dark was alone, and knew it, and though Time was still there, a guardian and a guide and a bulwark–Time had even less understanding of itself than the dark had.
Time was not lonely.
The Dark grew to be.
"The Dark tried many, many things," Lily tells her audience, keeping her eyes on the firsties, since they're the ones she wants to hear this story, though she's aware there's other people about. "It tried to split itself into two, but it didn't understand how to. It had always been one. It struggled with the concept of another Dark. It was Dark. Would there being another of it make it less lonely? How could it be more than one?
"But what the Dark didn't know what's that there was one more presence around it. Not just it and time–though time can never be forgotten–and this third presence happened to be listening when the Dark made a wish for company.
"Magic responded," she says. "Magic peppered the Dark with Light and gave form to the word and concept. Suddenly, there was not only Dark. There was also Light, and the Dark was overjoyed."
She doesn't need to use a charm to make sure they all hear her, they're all paying attention, rapt.
"Try as the Dark did, though, it couldn't figure out how to talk to the Light. The Light was new and young and very shiny. The Dark was old and didn't feel it had much to offer in return, no matter how much it admired the brilliance of light.
"The Dark wondered if it would just take a while, like it had for itself, for the Light to grow into understanding and then they could talk. Time wasn't available to ask, though, so the dark wondered what it should do. It loved the Light and the way it made the Dark deeper, the way each sparkle made itself shimmer with a sheen it had never seen before. The Dark was turned to velvet by the reflected light. The Dark loved it and named the lights stars, as there were so many of them and they were so beautiful."
Lily grins at the firsties.
"Eons passed like that. And, it turned out, that Magic," she says, "wasn't done with the Dark. Magic slipped in when the Dark wasn't looking, and it filled up corners the Dark hadn't found, and when the Dark stumbled upon it, that's when the Dark understood. The Light that shone was a reflection of the Dark itself. To give the Light thought, it would have to give up part of itself. Magic thought it was a good idea.
"It won't diminish me?" the Dark asked.
"Can you be diminished?" Magic replied.
"The Dark thought about it and thought about it and thought some more about it, before it found that corner again, where Magic rested a little more obviously–because Magic, of course, was everywhere at every time, but the Dark didn't know that then–and when the Dark found Magic again, it said:
"I cannot be diminished when I am half of everything that was, is, and ever will be. Give unto the Light the power of thought, of change, of challenge. Give Light consciousness, so that it can do more than shine."
"And Magic does."
Lily swings her wand now in a long arc, one that encompasses everyone watching and listening to her–not just the firsties–and with another wordless charm, little glowing stars appear in front of each person, swirling in slow, lazy circles.
"Those pieces of Light, the ones that the Dark named stars, became the first witches and wizards," she tells her audience. "That's why so many of the older families, all around the world, honour the stars by name and magic.
"And, every day," she says, "there's still new stars being born. That's why there's new witches and wizards too. Magic gave us the Light and the Dark gave us our minds, hearts, and souls so that we would know what to do with the Light, which is what we use as magic. That's why it's important to remember that while some of us come from much older stars, much older wishes, the ones that come from new ones are just as beloved and just as wanted by the Dark and by Magic.
"After all," she says, smiling, "otherwise, we wouldn't be here. Each of you come from a different star, with a different age to it. Some of us are brand new, just beginning to shine, while others have shined for so long their starts are lost in history. Magic is still what gave each of you the Light you shine and the Dark gave you of itself the ability to do more than just be."
Lily folds herself down on the blankets with her horde of first years.
"So," she says conversationally to the nearest one, "what are you going to become?"
The firsties don't really know how to take that question, at first, but Lily is personable and likes to talk and soon they're talking amongst themselves, about what they want to do, and she listens as a boy in Slytherin's green and silver explains to a girl in Gryffindor's red and gold about what sort of jobs there are in the Wizarding World and, even as she extracts herself from the pile, she smiles.
"You are a mad woman," Beth declares, throwing her arms around her in a hug as soon as Lily stands.
"I feel a bit mad," Lily laughs, hugging her back and trying not to sag into it. "I could never be a teacher, I would die."
"You did great, though!" Beth insists. "And now, look, they're all talking about themselves and the story! Where did you hear a story like that anyway?"
"I'd like to know that too," a voice says.
Lily quickly disentangles herself from Beth because that's–
The Head Girl, Anastasia Rosier, and both Merrythought and Black. The 6th year Prefects are hanging back, keeping an eye on the situation.
She doesn't see Slytherin's 7th year male Prefect anywhere.
"Rosier," Lily says, realizing that she has no idea when her peers showed up. Last she remembers was noticing the audience but, like, she'd been pretty sure most of them had been maybe third year, tops. "Black. Merrythought."
Cordelia sniffs at her. Regulus nods.
"I looked it up," she says. "I put the story together. If there's a complete version of it anywhere, it's not in Hogwarts."
Curiosity gets the better of her.
"Where's Morley?"
Because it's strange to have all of the Slytherin Prefects out here and not the 7th year one.
"He's with Timmins," Rosier says. "We weren't expecting this–from what we heard."
Lily looks at the horde of firsties–and not just firsties, now, she sees the second and third years mingling with them, talking–and then back at the Slytherin's.
"Well," Lily says, smiling. "I had it covered."
"And covered well," Rosier says. "I think that's going to be ten points to Gryffindor."
Lily doesn't protest.
Technically, she ought to, since Prefects and the Heads aren't supposed to be giving out points for things other Prefects do or don't do, but she doesn't need Beth's jab in the back to keep her mouth shut.
Frankly, she feels she earned these points.
"Thanks," she says. "I think it's safe to leave the children be, now that the fight's gone out of them. I've got the complete list of who caused injuries to who and the points I took from them. I'll have it prettied up and submitted by tonight. Otherwise, I was going to go and visit Timmins in the Hospital Wing."
"You're actually going to go see her?" Merrythought asks.
Lily ignores how snide that sounds.
"Yes," she says calmly. "I told her I would, once I'd gotten the rest of them under control."
Lily pauses, then looks inquiringly at Rosier.
"Unless I'm needed for something?"
"No," the Head Girl says. "I was just curious about where you'd heard that story. It's a very old one."
"I like old stories," Lily says, gathering her bag up. "It's my world too, now. It just makes sense that I'd read up on it."
"I'd be curious to know what other old stories you've heard," Rosier says. "Some other time, though."
As if that is some sort of signal, Rosier nods amiably at her and the other Slytherin Prefects disperse across the field.
Regulus Black stays with her.
Lily shrugs her book bag over her shoulder, internally thanking Beth–she's going to owe her so much for this later–and cocks her head at him thoughtfully. Since he's... still... standing there.
If he rejects my contract in front of all these people I will wreck vengeance upon him for all eternity, she vows, trying not to bristle defensively.
"I would walk with you, to the infirmary," Black says.
She will-
Wait, what? Oh. Oh!
Never mind.
Lily shuffles her temper and her half-begun plans for vengeance to the bottom of her emotional pile.
"That'd be lovely," she says, smiling. "Thank you."
As if I'd say no even if I wanted to!
But all that particular thought does is make her smile grow brighter as, with a courtly gesture, Black falls into pace beside her.
She glances back at Beth, wanting to wave or something, and sees Beth giving her two thumbs up.
I love my friends, she thinks happily. Luckiest girl in the world, that's me.
But now, now she's got Black with her and she's-she's not quite sure what to do or say. Because according to all those rules she'd spent the summer having pounded into her head, she's really not supposed to be talking to him about anything, like, important. Or personal. Or anything like that.
Not right now. Not until he gives her an answer.
Which means-
Oh. Duh. I'm an idiot. It's right there. There's absolutely something we can talk about that no one could complain about and it's perfectly, marvellously proper and something I even care about besides!
"How is Timmins?" Lily asks as they step from outside to inside and the temperature drops abruptly. "By my diagnostic, it seemed like a sprained ankle, but healing charms aren't my forte."
"A sprained ankle," Black agrees. "Madam Pomfrey is keeping her overnight for observation but otherwise, she will be well tomorrow to go to her classes."
While they talk, Lily covertly watches Regulus and is pleased to find that he is covertly watching her right back.
Neither of them address it, obviously, given tradition and everything, but Lily takes it as a good sign as they show everyone what wonderfully diligent prefects they are by talking firmly about nothing but classes and how Timmins might be persuaded to take it easy in the next week.
After all, there's an awful lot of the school to go around and she's just a firstie.
"I know I was really excited," Lily says. "I think I tried to see everything, my first week."
"It takes all of us that way," Black agrees, with a faint smile, which seems to be all he'll allow himself in this conversation.
That's fine, Lily decides, as that's about as personal as they're allowed to get until the whole matter is decided one way or another, and they turn the conversation back towards Timmins.
"At least it's not the very first day," Lily says. "It would be terrible if on top of being injured on the first day of classes, she didn't know where anything was." Then, realizing that, perhaps, that might seem like a dreadful slight by implication, she hurries on with a bright laugh. "Of course, I suppose that's where being Sorted into Slytherin would come in handy. Someone better suited to aid her would have noticed that detail, I'm sure. In Gryffindor, not everyone would."
Not deliberately, no, but they do tend to get caught up in their own selves, herself included, and she's willing to take the blow to her own dignity to not horribly insult her potential boyfriend's House.
Not even just a boyfriend. A husband, if it goes really well. That's still so hard to wrap my mind around.
Thankfully, he doesn't seem to take offense to her babbling-neither the potential misstep nor the way she tries to paper over it-and nods thoughtfully.
"In Slytherin, yes, we would notice it," he says meditatively. "Nor has she been here long enough for a situation such as this to be used against her. Timmins will be assisted as needed."
Lily considers that, dragging her attention away from the careful and precise way he speaks, each word articulated in a way that makes it clear he's had lessons in speaking, rather than just having been taught how to talk.
She wonders if she ought to question the fact that he's just said, in later years, something like a sprained ankle could be used against a person.
Then she realizes he's glancing at her sidelong again, and waiting, and she understands that he's said this deliberately. She's meant to notice it.
The games they play!
But, rather than irritating her, it makes her curious and intrigued.
"I suppose asking for help would also be something that would have to be carefully done, had it not been so early in the year for a new firstie," Lily says lightly, though she lowers her voice enough that now, it now longer rings out brightly across the hall. They've been observed long enough that their conversation may be a little more private.
But still proper. So very proper.
"Though, from what I've seen, she would have been fine outside of the confines of Slytherin House," Lily continues.
"That's correct," he says, and smiles when she looks at him. It's a smile edged with blades. "It is... a consideration you should be mindful of."
Lily gives him her own smile, the guileless one, the one that people always, always seem to underestimate.
"Thank you for letting me know," she says sincerely.
Then they're at the doors to the hospital wing and she is unsurprised (but not displeased) when he opens the door for her and escorts her inside.
Timmins is seated on one of the beds, looking put out.
"Evans," Morley says, a mild note of surprise to his voice.
"Hi, Morley," Lily says and then, smiling at Timmins, says, "Hi Agathe."
Both the Slytherin boys in the room shift slightly, but Agathe Timmins just smiles cheekily at her, the discontent fading from her face.
Since neither boy is frowning, Lily tentatively decides to ignore whatever it is that's bothering them and focuses on Agathe.
"I had to drink three potions," Agathe shares, with a morbid sort of glee about her. "And got some orange goo rubbed on my ankle."
"Did you make faces while drinking the potions?" Lily asks, and leans forward conspiratorially. "Everyone makes faces when they do. Some people lie and say they taste good but really, why bother with a lie like that?"
Agathe's eyes light up. "Yes!" she says. "It doesn't serve any purpose. They taste terrible and Madam Pomfrey just nodded and made me drink a glass of water after it. Oh, you can take a seat, Miss Lily!"
As Lily takes the offered seat, Agathe considers her leg soberly, before looking at her again.
"Do you suppose it's possible to drink enough to float away?"
Honestly, Lily adores firsties and this is part of the reason why.
Morley looks kind of pained and she suspects that the whole first-year-ness of Agathe is the reason why.
Regulus places his hands on the back of her chair, leaning forward slightly, and Lily tries to pretend she's not hyper aware of that at all and that it doesn't send the good sort of tingle down her spine.
Also she wishes she could see his face.
(It's a good face; she could become rather fond of it. She quickly shoos that thought away before she starts blushing.)
"I think you'd be more likely to sink," Lily says. "As liquid has a weight to it. Though there's potions that can make you float. Want me to write down the names of them so you can look them up later?"
"That'd be great, Miss Lily," Agathe says, then adds, a bit more seriously. "Are you done punishing all the other firsties?"
"I don't know that punished is the right term for it," Lily muses, even as she fishes out a scrap of parchment and a self-inkling quill to scribble down the names of several potions that Agathe might find buoyant enough for her amusement. "I dragged everyone outside and told them a story."
"I can't be dragged outside today," Agathe says, a touch sulkily.
"I know," Lily says, smiling as she offers the parchment. "But how about I tell you the story that I told the others anyway?"
Lily's audience the second time around is much smaller, just Agathe, Black, and Morley, but that's all right.
She's not sure why Morley is there for, given how little he seems to want to be present, but Black's presence at her back, and the intent way he listens, tells her that it means something to him.
What, exactly, she doesn't find out that afternoon, but once she's told the story to Timmins, he escorts her to the Great Hall and leaves her there, with a bow that seems to have a weight to it that she doesn't understand.
Lily doesn't stand around staring after him but that's only because he's done it in full public and she plays this particular game as well as any-
She tosses her hair, smiles after him like she knows a secret, and smoothly sails into the Great Hall.