A/N: This fic has been abandoned. See previous chapter A/N. Also, I've given my plot notes over to another author on this site - a female, if there ARE any females on the internet. And a female who does NOT write smut. And she's asked me not to disclose her username, so eh, I won't. But if you see a story crop up with a lot of similarities to this, don't be alarmed - it's all with permission. Just FYI.

1978, Surrey

"Lily," Mrs Evans entreated, her brow furrowed in consternation, "I'm not entirely sure you understand, or are even willing to imbibe and reflect upon, the wisdom that I seek to impart."

"Oh, mum, please!" Lily cried, utterly frustrated with her mother's patronizing.

"It's not a question of love, darling," Mrs Evans said, "It's a question of will."

"What?" Lily asked.

"You forget that your love for James Potter is barely a year old," Mrs Evans reminded her.

"A year is way more than enough for me to tell if I love a man, mum," Lily scoffed.

"You're being carried away…" Mrs Evans started.

"No!" Lily cried indignantly, "Don't you dare accuse James of using some weird, twisted, magic to enslave me to his will. Nothing of the sort ever happened…"

Mrs Evans, nonplussed, interrupted her daughter mid-tirade, "I never accused the man of doing anything of the sort, Lily."

"Petunia did," Lily pointed out.

"I'm not Petunia," Mrs Evans said, "And I'm not your father either."

"Dad approves," Lily said at once, latching onto the lifeline her mother had inadvertently dangled in front of her, "He doesn't mind."

"Because he's a romantic, and believes in all that such rapid-fire romance entails," Mrs Evans said, "Lily, I speak from experience, rather than from the midst of a storm of hormones and youthful exuberance. You're not talking about a steady relationship anymore, Lily… you're holding conversations about marriage, for the love of all that is good and holy."

"That's just it, mum," Lily entreated, "I love James. I love, love, love him and – you will forgive this cliché – I cannot see myself living without him. He proposed, and I accepted – it's as simple as that."

"Not quite," Mrs Evans started, but Lily interrupted her.

"What?" the younger redhead asked hotly, "What do you think James lacks that makes him less than an ideal husband for your daughter?"

"It's not a question of what he's lacking," Mrs Evans explained with an indulgent smile, "Nor is it, like I said earlier, a question of love, Lily. Consider this – you dated another boy… a Quidditch Beater, if I'm not wrong… in your fifth year…"

"Derrick," Lily gritted out, not quite seeing the relevance. Derrick and she had barely been on two dates, and had hardly even kissed.

"Yes, Derrick," Mrs Evans said, "He was a nice boy, wasn't he? Quite gifted at Charms, so you said yourself. A bit boring perhaps, but you shared some tastes. And other tastes differed, as… tastefully… as interests can differ, anyway."

"What's your point?" Lily interjected.

"Why don't you marry him?" the older redhead – albeit with quite a few grey hairs amongst the deep red – asked.

"What?" Lily said, taken aback by the absurdity of her mother's abrupt question, "That's… I don't even… what?"

"He's a nice boy. Was he lacking in some way?"

"I… no, he wasn't but… I don't even see what this has to do with anything…"

"So what's the difference between James and Derrick? Or are you drawn to James' popularity, his wealth, his standing among wizards and witches of repute?"

"What? No! I'm not drawn to James'… please, mother… I love James. I don't love Derrick. Never did, never will."

Mrs Evans shook her head. "That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you, Lily," she said, "The only thing that stands between a relationship with James, and a relationship with Derrick, for instance, is this flimsy emotion you call love. Worse, it's young love. It takes far, FAR more than just love to sustain a relationship, Lily."

Lily appeared to be stumped, so Mrs Evans took advantage of the momentary lull to continue.

"What you're experiencing, Lily, isn't quite the mature love brought on by experience and the firm knowledge of yourself and of your partner and of the world; it's the idealistic attraction that is spawned by – and please don't take offence at the words I'm going to use - youthful arrogance and the ignorant belief that you, and your partner, will forever be unchanged by the ravages of life and time itself. The world changes, Lily – and from what you tell me, your world is suffering through a war, for God's sake! Both you and James shall change, and with that, your mutual affection and regard for each other shall change too. The attraction of your youth – that never really earned the misnomer of 'love' – shall then vanish, and be replaced by resentment of the other's change, and perhaps even hostility."

Lily palmed her face in frustration. "Mum," she said at last, her teeth still gritted in frustration, "James and I are getting married. And that's the end of that. I'm not as disillusioned as you are right now, and I hope I never shall be that disillusioned. Love is more than enough an anchor for me."

"Fair enough," Mrs Evans said with a sigh, "Just remember my words, Lily – it takes far more than just attraction, or even love, to sustain a long-term relationship. It takes a fair amount of will, on part of everyone involved in the relationship – the will to stay together, and the will to exert yourself for each other, even when love is strained by circumstance. I can only hope you and James possess it in spades."

1981, Godric's Hollow

"James, really?!" Lily screamed, "Really?! You're just going to leave the damn shirt on the ground?!"

"I'm going to do as I damn well please," James said hotly, "This is my house."

"It's my house as well!" Lily contested, "It became my damn house from the moment you made me Mrs. Potter!"

"Perhaps I shouldn't have," James said nonchalantly, "You can't even seem to lift up a damn shirt."

"It's your damn shirt, James. You can lift it up yourself."

"Isn't there more we should be worried about than who picks up a bloody shirt? We're living in the middle of a freaking Fidelius, and we've been forbidden from going out, and I can't even speak to Sirius, and Peter and Remus have been forbidden from contacting me…"

"You think the isolation hasn't taken its toll on me, James?" Lily asked, interrupting James' tirade, "You don't think the lack of contact with friends and family hasn't affected me? My mum's sick, James! I don't even know if she will make it… hell, I don't even know if she's alive now, dammit!"

"Well, go SEE her then!" James roared, "I can take care of my son myself!"

"Fine, then," Lily said in a low voice, trembling with sheer rage, "I'm off. You can have your damn son, James! And then we'd all get to see how well you'd fend for yourself!"

"See?" James said hotly, "This proves it! This proves that you're all about yourself!"

"I see," Lily breathed. She continued, her voice growing louder with every passing syllable, "So that's how it is. This is apparently because I don't value you as much as you value yourself in that overblown head of yours. Because doing all the chores, cleaning up the house, and looking up each and every form of magic that can make us stronger isn't enough to show you that I CARE, IS IT?"

"Care for WHO?" James roared, "ME? OR YOURSELF?"

"How dare you…" Lily started, but James cut her off viciously.

"YOU NEVER WANTED HARRY!" James roared.

"NO!" Lily screamed, "NO! I never wanted a CHILD, James! I was a Potions mistress, a Charms pioneer, a bloody prodigy at school… and it all went to hell in a handbasket because of YOU!"

"This is ridiculous," James said abruptly, cutting her off, "Frank and Alice probably don't quarrel like this!"

"Oh, and I'm dying to know why that is," Lily said archly.

"Well, it's definitely not because Frank refuses to pick up a stupid shirt," James said, "It's probably because Alice is everything that you're not!"

Lily's face turned ashen. "Oh?" she asked in a soft, dangerously low voice, "And what am I not, exactly?"

"A wife who commiserates," James soldiered on, "And more. A mother who cares. A wife who doesn't treat her husband like sh…"

"I DO care for Harry!" she countered, "I'm looking up all these advanced charms, all this advanced magic…"

"It's a bloody excuse," James spat, "A stupid little excuse that you're using to look up arcane concepts that fascinate you. Don't even pretend you're doing this because of your love for MY son. You said it for yourself – 'looking up each and every form of magic that makes ME stronger'. Not Harry. Not me. Just you."

"I said US! Harry's all I have!" Lily cried, "Of course I care for him! I thought I had you, but apparently, you'd rather be over with Alice…"

"Oh shut up," James said abruptly, and picked up his shirt from the recliner. He threw the shirt into the laundry bin, which promptly changed into a box that emitted a keening sound – indicating that his shirt would be washed promptly. "There," James said, turning to Lily, "Satisfied?"

Lily took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. The tense silence was abruptly broken by the sound of Harry's crying. Lily winced and James glared at her. "You forgot to feed him," James said, his voice low, "I left milk right there on the bloody table and you forgot to feed him."

"I was… researching..," Lily stammered.

"Whatever," James said, pointing at the bottle of milk and the baby powder by its side.

"Fine," she gritted out. She summoned the bottle and the powder, turned on her heel and stormed up the staircase.

"Pathetic," James muttered at her retreating back, "Bloody good mother you turned out to be…"

Five minutes later, Lord Voldemort broke through the wards surrounding Godric's Hollow.

After the Champion's Selection, Potions Office

"First off," Lily said, smiling at Harry as he sat on the chair in front of her desk, "Congratulations on becoming the Hogwarts Champion."

"Not really sure I deserved it," Harry said with an uneasy grin, "Or… earned it."

Lily frowned. She then seemed to cast around for the next topic she evidently wanted to discuss with him. "I…," Lily started awkwardly, "Harry… er… I'm not sure if I'm the right person for this… talk."

Harry stared at his mother. "Talk?" he asked, "Er… what about?"

Lily shifted awkwardly as she stood up from her chair behind the desk. She walked to the window and frowned at the grounds outside.

"You've hit puberty, Harry," Lily said, exasperated, "I hope, for both your… and my sakes, that you see how that normally entails a talk."

Harry flushed immediately and winced. "I… er…," he said, pulling at his collar, "I'm…"

"Indeed," Lily grit out.

"Already got the talk from Sirius," Harry said quickly, his face still red, "Er… sort of. I mean, he did go off on a very weird tangent about women with big… er… never mind. But yeah, Ron and I got the talk. From Sirius."

Lily chuckled ruefully. "I'm not sure that's an entirely reassuring thought," she said. She then shuddered and murmured, "Sirius giving a talk. Now there's an idea."

She then glanced at Harry and said, "Harry, there's going to be a lot of feminine attention coming your way – both good and bad – now that you're the Hogwarts Champion. I just… wanted to ask you to be a bit… responsible."

Harry looked nonplussed. "Uh," he asked slowly, "Feminine attention?"

Lily sighed. "For someone who manages to surprise me with his field awareness each time we duel," she said, "You sure are clueless. You're the Hogwarts Champion, Harry. Don't tell me you did not see some of the girls at your table eyeing you up like you were a piece of meat.

"I know you must feel lucky…" Lily started, but trailed off at Harry's sour expression.

"Yeah well, being the Champion isn't all that great," Harry said grumpily.

Lily shrugged. "I did notice Ron sitting at the end of the table away from you guys," she prompted.

"Yeah," Harry said, "The guy said something ridiculous about me hogging the limelight… about me wanting to hog all the limelight and just stomped away to sit with Dean and Seamus."

"He's jealous," Lily said simply.

Harry looked at Lily. He opened his mouth as if he were about to launch into a defence of Ron's character, but stopped. "Hermione said the same thing," he said at last.

"He'll get over it, Harry," Lily assured him, "Which is not to say that Ron's behaviour can be excused; but a year from now, he'll be as ashamed of his behaviour as he should be now."

"I just…," Harry said, "I just miss his company, y'know? Hanging around with the rest of the gang is fun – Ginny seems a lot more willing to talk, Hermione's loosened up a bit, Luna's bonkers, but in a fun way, and Neville's the quiet, shy sort… but it's just not the same without Ron."

"Fair enough," said Lily, "He is your oldest friend, after all. And it probably smarts now, but it's not your fault, Harry."

"Yeah," Harry said and then continued, grumpily, "On that note, I'm not really sure if my selection for the Triwizard Tournament is supposed to excite me or frighten me."

Lily felt slightly disappointed and annoyed. "What?" she asked.

"It's just…," Harry said earnestly, and then looked around as if he was searching for the right words to describe his plight. "It's just that there's so much riding on this… I didn't really think of any of this when I was dropping my name into the goblet."

"So what were you thinking of?" Lily asked, exasperated.

"I guess the same things everyone was thinking of when they dropped their names in," Harry said with a sigh, "Glory. Fame. Riches."

"Why do you think Viktor Krum entered the tournament then?" Lily asked. She sighed internally – she was never really very good at motivational speeches. "He's already got most of what you cited – glory, fame, riches and all that."

"I don't know," Harry said in a thoughtful voice, "Maybe… maybe he wanted to prove that he was more than just a Quidditch star?"

"Perhaps," Lily said, "And from what I know of Fleur Delacour…"

Harry snorted. Lily looked at him questioningly.

He shrugged. "Nothing," he said quickly, "It's just that she was a bit erm…"

"Bitchy?" Lily ventured and giggled as she saw Harry flush. "That's fair," Lily continued, "But I had the opportunity to talk to her shortly after the Beauxbatons contingent's arrival at Hogwarts. It was… illuminating – she didn't seem to be all that up her own arse at all. In fact, she was quite eager to talk about Charms with me…"

"Wait," Harry said, "When did you even talk to her?"

"Like I said, shortly after the Arrival Ceremony," Lily said, "Madame Maxime asked for a bit of help in shoring up a few charms on the carriages, so Filius and I went over to help. A couple of Beauxbatons students pitched in as well, eager to learn – Fleur was one of them. She's quite a delightful conversationalist when she gets going."

Harry looked mighty sceptical at that, so Lily continued, "Anyway, my point was that Fleur Delacour isn't quite in this tournament to bring glory to her name – well, there might be a whole lot of that adding to her motives – but I'm pretty sure most of her motives revolve around overcoming the bias against her… heritage, as it were."

"Heritage?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"Something I can identify with very well, I assure you," Lily said, and trailed off.

"Fleur is a muggleborn?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Uh," Lily looked a bit uneasy, then said, "It's not for me to say - I don't think even Fleur registered what she let slip – and her secrets are hers to reveal, Harry. But yes, at the end of the day, Fleur is in this tournament, to prove something to herself, in addition to the rest of the world."

"I'm not sure I follow," Harry said.

"Fear of taking part in a tournament of this stature is quite natural, Harry," Lily said, "The trick is – like the other champions – to focus on your real reason for taking part, rather than paying attention to what others expect of you."

"Yeah, well," Harry snapped, "That only works if I was actually thinking of something when I put my name into the goblet."

"A man can't really stop thinking, Harry," Lily said, her eyes boring into Harry, "Isn't there an ideal you hold dear? Something you strive for?"

"If you're expecting me to say 'perfection' or 'power' or something equally corny…" Harry muttered.

Lily sighed, disappointed. "Fair enough," she said, "But like I said, there's a reason you strive to be better, Harry. Whatever compels you, whatever drives you, whatever you yearn for – find it, know it and treasure it. I have a feeling it'll come in handy during the course of this tournament… and beyond."

Later, Albus Dumbledore's Office

Lily paced back and forth across the Headmaster's Office, and even Fawkes' low croon was not enough to get her to calm down.

"I know he's my son, Albus," Lily said vehemently, barely even looking up at the Headmaster, who was merely watching her and running his fingers through his long beard, "I know that he's Harry Potter, the son of James and Lily Potter. I know who I am, I know what I must do, I know I must care for him."

She glanced at Dumbledore and sighed. "But it's so hard, Albus," she said, "It's so damn hard. I look up at him, reach for an emotion that seems like it belonged in another lifetime… and that emotion simply isn't there. All that's there is a void."

"But you do care for him," Albus said firmly.

"I do," Lily agreed with a slow nod, "Hell, I like teaching Harry – I think he's a very diligent student and it gives me great pleasure to see him internalise my lessons and learn from them. But that… that feeling… today - he was fishing around for criticism of his choice to participate in the tournament, for some sort of motivation… and I didn't care, Albus. I just felt bored halfway through the conversation and thought that Harry was pathetic for even doubting his selection as Triwizard Champion. Hell, I started comparing him unfavourably against the other champions! And what sort of mother thinks that? What sort of mother thinks that her son is a wimp for harbouring some self-doubt in his teenage years? What sort of mother enjoys foisting lessons upon her son that she's interested in, but shirks from her duty when he admits to feeling something she's not interested in?"

Albus sighed deeply. "I'm not denying the fact that the deep magic you summoned during your ordeal with Lord Voldemort had no effect on your relationship with Harry. All magic – all ancient and powerful magic – takes a toll of some sort. Usually, that levy is short-lived – it manifests itself as magical exhaustion, and passes with time. But the particular species of magic that you employed, Lily, would, by its very nature, extract a heavy toll indeed.

"However," Albus said, holding up his hands stalling Lily's attempt to speak, "I wouldn't be overly concerned for two, very specific reasons. One – you're worried and anxious about your inability to exploit a deep-seated maternal instinct towards Harry. And that seems to imply that your ability to express affection, your morality and your sense of right and wrong are perfectly in order. You are still a good person, Lily. You're making an effort.

"Second, and I believe you know of this as well as I do – the blood wards around Godric's Hollow strengthen when both you and Harry are present within their reach. This is not an insignificant detail – blood wards that draw upon the specific kind of protection you used for Harry would not strengthen if there were not some sort of affectionate bond between you and your son."

Lily stared into the fire for a moment, before her eyes cleared, with some sliver of hope seeping into them.

"So you think it shall pass, Albus?" she asked.

"I do not know," the Headmaster confessed. He stood up from his chair and gestured to a spot on the wall, which immediately opened to form a small window that seemed to grant him a full, if distant, view of Hogsmeade. "Like I've said time and again, I'm not omniscient. I believe your maternal instinct has dulled, perhaps, but not completely vanished or dead. Draw strength from this knowledge. Investigate. Study. Learn. Push yourself to be a better mother, if that is your wish.

"And do be careful, Lily," Albus said, turning to her and looking over his half-moon spectacles at Lily, "For now, circumstances are conducive for a bit of maternal bonding – these are times of peace, of contentment, of indolence. But I fear that the onset of adversity may strain such already frayed emotions, stretching them beyond repair – be very conscious of the fact that you do not distance yourself from him, especially in times of pain, or of difficulty. For it is in times of adversity that our relationships with one another are truly tested."

Lily nodded firmly. "I won't abandon him," she said with confidence that she did not quite feel.

"Easier said than done, Lily," Albus said, looking back through the window and staring wistfully at the smoke trailing from the chimney of the Hog's Head.

A/N: Just a little look into Lily's past. Might do more of these interludes in the future as the story goes on.