SUMMER 1977

James Potter being Head Boy was, by far, the worst thing to happen to Lily Evans.

She had had nightmares about this, complete with Dumbledore gazing at her in a maddeningly calm way, Potter sitting across from her looking half-amused, half-sheepish, and two golden Head badges shining triumphantly in the middle of the table atop a stack of parchments. She had not, though, envisioned it happening at her local neighborhood coffee shop—Tea and Things, which she'd generally, up until then, associated with pleasant memories, thank you very much—in her dingy Muggle town, on a lazy Thursday afternoon, a couple weeks before her final year of school.

Dumbledore, for his part, looked unperturbed and inexplicably at home despite the fact that he was wearing long wizard robes of majestic purple, sporting his characteristic three-foot beard and half-mooned spectacles. His attire was garnering not a small amount of attention from the other patrons of the coffee store, much to Lily's chagrin, but she hoped they'd pass him off as another one of Lily's strange friends. It was a small town, and folks knew one another. Lily was gone most of the year, and while her parents had fabricated a convincing story about her going to an elite boarding school, Petunia spent most of the time making it very clear that Lily was the black sheep of the family and had been "dumped in a loony-bin, for her own safety, you know." As such, whenever Lily returned home for the summer, she was treated like a curiosity by most of the people in the neighborhood. It didn't help that she also mostly kept to herself, adding to the air of mystery around her. Truth be told, Lily had always been a bit of a loner, preferring to read books in her room rather than go on day trips to the city with the other kids as Petunia liked to do when mum and dad let her.

To his credit, James Potter did not look as out of place as Dumbledore did. He wore muggle clothes—a deep red plaid shirt with his sleeves rolled up and dark blue jeans. His hair looked perplexingly messy, like a child had drawn it, but it always did, sticking out in all sorts of odd angles in a thick nest atop his head. He had claimed another inch over the summer and Lily saw a slight stubble smattering his jaw, making him look older than she remembered him looking. He was avoiding looking at Lily, his deliberate nonchalance betraying the tenseness in his shoulders and his hands placed deliberately in his lap. It didn't matter to her where he was looking, she had ignored him since the moment he'd entered the shop and made her drop her tea with an angry yelp.

Now, Lily crumpled the paper napkin she had grabbed off the table in her fist, taking a deep breath in and slowly letting it out, raising her eyes to meet the Headmaster's.

"I'm sorry, sir," Lily said coolly, though her heart beat frantically under the blanket of despair that was settling atop her chest, "I don't understand."

"Ah, I do apologize if that is my doing, Ms. Evans. Please, if you will, clarify for me what is troubling you?"

That you're clearly off your rocker, Lily wanted to yell. Instead, she gritted her teeth and said, "I don't understand, sir, how … what on earth … why did you make him Head Boy?"

Lily saw James wince from the corner of her eye but ignored him.

Dumbledore did not look angry, instead gazing at her evenly. "I and the professors of Hogwarts all agree that Mr. Potter is more than capable of taking up the mantle of Head Boy. We have considered, holistically, how he has performed during his time at Hogwarts and his marked improvement of recent, and we are of the opinion that there really could be nobody more suitable for the task."

"Nobody more—Headmaster, if I may, as far as qualifications go, I hardly think a boy who spent his time blowing up toilets is the best role model for the student body."

"She has a point," James conceded sheepishly, speaking for the first time since they had all settled down at the table, "Although, it was only one toilet and I quite meant to blow up the sink."

Lily made a noise of exasperation and flung out her arm in James's direction, looking straight at the Headmaster as if to say, well?

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I don't know of any school rules that say a student guilty of blowing up a urinal cannot be Head Boy."

"Wicked," James breathed in awe.

"Sir—" Lily began heatedly.

"—Ms. Evans," Dumbledore said with a firmness that made Lily close her mouth, "If you are insinuating that neither I nor your respected professors are capable of making educated assessments of our own students, I would reconsider."

"That's not … what I meant," Lily muttered to her lap, her cheeks flaming up in anger and shame. She balled her fists tighter, feeling her nails on her palms through the wad of paper in her hands. It just wasn't fair. James Potter was the bane of her existence and Dumbledore inexplicably, maddeningly, insisted on making sure it stay that way. She, Lily, had been a star student, a good role model, and a strong leader for all her six years at Hogwarts. She had been smart about following rules, making sure she did not besmirch her spotless record and that she stayed in the good books of all her professors. She had earned this.

James Potter, on the other hand, had shown indifference for the rules, his record, or the good word of his teachers, flagrantly disregarding all of the above and acting in all the ways one should not if one wished to become Head Boy someday. And now, he was being rewarded for it.

It just reeked of unfairness.

"I understand the two of you have not quite gotten along in the past," Dumbledore said, more kindly this time, "But I assure you, Ms. Evans, Mr. Potter has demonstrated exemplary leadership qualities in the last two years that lead me to believe he is qualified and up to the task. It might surprise you to know that a little over a year ago, he single-handedly saved another student—Severus Snape—from a grievous harm, and perhaps even death. I cannot reveal more about this incident without compromising information that is not mine to compromise, but I assure you, Mr. Potter conducted himself with impressive responsibility and bravery."

James no longer looked light-hearted or amused, suddenly dropping his gaze back down to the table and slumping slightly in his seat almost as if he was embarrassed. Lily regarded him appraisingly, still heavily doubtful that James Potter could do anything with a modicum of responsibility or bravery. But she knew Dumbledore hadn't been tricked—she'd heard the rumors when it had happened, and though Sev had been very adamantly tight-lipped about the details, she had surmised that the rumors were at least a little bit true: James Potter had indeed saved Severus from something.

"Sir," James said, his voice unnaturally subdued, "Jokes aside, I, er, I have to agree with Evans."

"Whatever do you mean, Mr. Potter?"

It was James's turn to squirm uncomfortably in his seat, something Lily had never really seen him do, and it mystified her. "I don't think I should be Head Boy. I think there's been a mistake, and you should've given it to Moon—Remus, honestly, or really anybody else, and I-I can't accept it. I'm sorry."

He glanced at Lily, who didn't protest. She rather agreed with James on this one.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, regarding James keenly over his spectacles, "I don't mean to pry, but is there something else you'd like to tell me?"

James looked embarrassed, but resolutely maintained eye contact with Dumbledore. "Erm. Well. I-I'm actually not sure if I'll be coming back this year, sir."

This surprised even Lily, who looked up suddenly at James.

Dumbledore's eyes softened. "I understand the difficult choice you have before you, Mr. Potter, but I would urge you not to make any lasting commitments yet without careful consideration. After all, it may feel, in times of strife, that it is incumbent upon us to act, even while the best and yet most challenging thing to do is, instead, continue on."

Lily remained silent, watching the proceedings curiously. James looked uncharacteristically somber, eyebrows furrowed as he chewed his lips in thought.

"At least, take some time to consider it," Dumbledore said gently. "You are always welcome to rescind at a later time if you so feel the need."

James nodded slowly. Lily wasn't sure what had happened, but Dumbledore seemed satisfied and she knew that was the end of that conversation.

"Well, then!" Dumbledore said, weaving his fingers together under his chin as he looked happily from James's subdued face to Lily's sour one, "I am thrilled to officially offer you both the positions of Head Girl and Head Boy of Hogwarts. I and your professors are confident that the two of you will do most admirably."

James and Lily muttered their thanks, failing to match Dumbledore's unbridled enthusiasm.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement, but he continued calmly, "Your badges are yours to keep, of course, and I urge you to wear them during regular school hours. Often, the Head Girl and Boy hold a meeting aboard the Hogwarts Express in order to become acquainted with the rest of the prefects and assign duties. I will leave that to the two of you to arrange. I have made available a list—" Dumbledore gracefully gestured toward the parchments lying underneath the badges, "—of the prefects who have accepted their positions this year. Please do get in touch with them post haste. You will all be in charge of seeing the first-years to their dorms the first night back. We will then meet the next morning with the Heads of Houses to discuss what is expected of you for the year. Are there any questions?"

James and Lily shook their heads.

"Marvelous. In that case, I will see you both at the beginning of term."

"Sir—" James interrupted.

"—Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said calmly, holding up a hand that made James shut his mouth instantly, "I really must insist that you take just a few more days to ponder your decision before you come to me with your answer. I have the utmost faith in your capabilities, and perhaps speaking to you friends and family may help you feel the same."

James looked doubtful, but said nothing, nodding.

"Splendid," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet. James and Lily started to rise as well. "No, no, sit, I insist, I must be off, but I am sure you both will have much to talk about, and this is quite the lovely spot to do it in. Might I suggest trying their steamed caffeinated beverages—espresso, I believe they call it. Quite charming."

Lily almost laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of this entire situation.

With a little bow, Dumbledore floated toward the door as if gliding on ice, and the people around him turned to follow his graceful progress out the door. Hardly had the little bell at the front door of the café tinkled to Dumbledore's departure before Lily turned her head sharply back to James. He could feel the intensity of the anger simmering beneath her pursed lips and clenched jaw like a wave of heat from a radiator. His hands were suddenly clammy, but he calmly placed them face down on his lap, looking anywhere but straight at her and whistling softly under his breath.

"So?" She asked, an impatient edge creeping into her voice. "Are you going to do it?"

"Head Boy?" James asked.

"No, Dumbledore's personal courtesan."

"Can't. Already signed on for McGonagall. Would be a conflict of interest."

The corners of Lily's lips twitched upwards in the slightest.

Head Boy. The words tasted so strange on his tongue, like something foreign and unfamiliar. Could he be Head Boy? Miles away from Sirius's jovial guffaws and Remus's gentle encouragement and Peter's unbridled admiration, sitting here in this little coffee shop with Lily was the first time James really turned it over in his head. Did he want to be Head Boy?

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

"Why?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "Is it too uncool for the great James Potter?"

"No," James said defensively. He felt the muscles on the back of his neck stiffen, felt his frustration crawling up his spine like an annoying bug, making him squirm. He called it his Lily-bug—the little itch that would present itself whenever she looked at him with unmistakable dislike—and it would coordinate with his adrenaline to make an utter fool of him when he was around her. Why was she so very good at getting under his skin like that, with the simplest of insinuations? What did it matter what she thought of him, after so many years?

He exhaled slowly and smiled at her zen-like from across the table. Things were different now. He was different now. His life had taken a sobering turn and he did not have time for fleeting facies and chasing after girls. He and Lily were peers, and that was that.

Lily tossed her head in response like she was trying to get rid of a particularly irksome fly and stared fixedly at the landscape portrait of a waterfall that hung on the wall next to their table. Her arms were still crossed, and James could tell she was jiggling her foot from the restless way her body moved in her chair. She had grown paler, if possible, over the summer, making her red hair—which had claimed a few more inches—stand out even more starkly against her heart-shaped faced. She was much less scrawny than before: The summer had been good to her, and the sharp edges of her joints, hips, and legs had smoothed over and rounded, blending seamlessly into the vast expanses of soft skin that covered the gentle bumps of her stomach, arms, and thighs. But James thought the weight looked good on her, making her appear older and more graceful.

"What was the incident with Severus?" Lily asked suddenly, turning back to him.

"Confidential," James reminded her cheerfully, bringing his hands out from under the table and clasping them together, leaning his weight on his elbows.

Lily narrowed her eyes at him slightly, catching the hard edge of warning in his voice. She remained undeterred. "And why won't you be returning to school?" she pressed.

"Why, will you miss me?" James asked her without missing a beat.

Lily made a noise of disgust and abruptly stood up from her chair, the legs dragging against the wooden floor loudly as it was pushed back away from the table. She stood with her feet slightly apart, her arms stiff by her side and the sunlight behind her illuminating her copper hair with a formidable glow. The couple sitting behind her glanced back at them surreptitiously, but Lily didn't seem to notice.

"If you're going to be like that, I don't see any point in me staying," Lily told him coldly.

James watched her eyes flash as she spoke, and his eyebrows shot up, alarmed. He stretched his arm out across the table toward her, patting the tabletop in a gesture for her to sit down. "Ah come now, Evans, you won't stand a man up before his coffee has even arrived, would you?"

She slid her hands unhurriedly into the pockets of her shorts, blinking at him slowly as if to say, try me.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—here, sit, I'll behave." James raised his arms up in surrender, a small smile ghosting across his lips.

Lily considered him carefully for a few seconds and then lowered herself slowly back into her chair. She eased herself into her former position—legs and arms crossed, chin up as she looked calmly at him down the length of her nose.

James began whistling softly under his breath again, drumming his long, bony fingers against the tabletop rhythmically, at ease and unperturbed by her contrasting restlessness. Yet Lily sensed something was different about him, something that was difficult to place. A microscopic shift in his mannerism. While he retained largely the same devil-may-care air as he always had, every casual movement of his body felt a little more calculated, every muscle a little more tightly wound, his eyes a tad shiftier. It put her on edge, like seeing clouds in the distant horizon on a deceptively sunny day.

"Are you dropping out because of your father?" Lily blurted the moment the thought struck her like lightening and she immediately winced at how tactlessly she had said it.

James's movements came to a staggering halt for a split second, but he resumed tapping the table almost immediately, albeit more quietly. He was looking at her, but there was no hostility. Just wariness. "Er. Yes."

"He's sick," Lily confirmed, "Isn't he?"

"Yeah. Uh, yeah, Dragonpox."

"I'm sorry," Lily said, and she meant it, her voice slightly subdued. It was only then that she had the grace to look a little bit mortified at her brazenness.

James shrugged, not seeming to care. "How did you know?"

"Marlene told me."

"Right."

Someone stepped up to the edge of their table just then, throwing a shadow over them. It was the brown-haired waitress from before, and she dipped her knees to lower a large china cup onto their table, trilling, "Your coffee, sir!" as she did.

"Thank you," James said with a wide, earnest smile.

The waitress smiled at him coyly, regarding him through her lashes. "Need anything else?"

"I'm smashing, thanks," James said. The waitress's lips quirked upwards, her finger twirling a strand of her hair as her gaze lingered deliberately on James. He didn't seem to notice, but was looking at Lily. The waitress glanced at Lily too, and Lily looked down at the table with forced nonchalance, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny of multiple eyes. She grabbed the paper napkin beside her empty cup and started to tear at the edges as she was wont to do to channel her nervous energy. She could feel James's eyes on her even as she heard the waitress's heels clicking on the floor as she walked away.

Lily looked up just in time to watch the waitress walk through the double doors that led to the kitchen. She turned back to James, who averted his eyes, looking almost apologetically down at his own lap.

Lily cleared her throat, rolling a small piece of the paper napkin she had torn off into a ball between her thumb and middle finger. "So, er. How's your summer been?"

She regretted asking this almost instantly, slapping herself mentally as James raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Well," he said slowly, but she saw a hint of amusement in his expression, "It's been pretty excellent all in all. Although sometimes dad mistakes me for a potted plant. That part's a bit of a downer."

"Right," Lily said at the same time she exhaled slowly, feeling the awkwardness heat up her skin like a slow, caustic burn. "Erm. Sorry."

But James waved away her concern with a motion of his hand, not seeming to mind the tactless question. "Nah, it's fine. It's been fine. And what about you? Enjoying the hols?"

Lily shrugged, resting her chin on her palm as she nudged the little paper ball back and forth on the table. "It's been fine. Nothing much to do, nothing happens here."

"Here?" James asked, frowning as he looked around the shop. His eyes widened with understanding. "Oh, hang on—do you live around here?"

"Right around the corner and then two blocks down."

"I was wondering why Dumbledore had us come all the way to Cokeworth, the old codger. I didn't know," James marveled. "That must be real swell."

"What do you mean?" Lily asked.

James shrugged, smiling around as he gave his surroundings a once-over as if through a new lens. "This place is nice. This shop. Do you come here a lot?"

"To read, sometimes," she admitted, tearing off a new piece of paper from her napkin. "It's really the only interesting place around here. There isn't much else. There's Spinner's End a few blocks that way, Tuney—my sister—and I would play there sometimes as children, and I used to spend time there in the summer with—"

She suddenly paused, catching James's eyes and holding them defiantly as she finished, "—with Severus."

James's expression of amicable curiosity didn't change as he nodded, much to Lily's surprise, although she could've sworn his lips thinned just the slightest.

"Have you seen him this summer?" James asked, still amicable. He wasn't sure why he was asking her, only that he knew he would never understand why they were friends but his desire to get along with Lily at this point outweighed his extreme dislike for Severus Snape. He didn't have to hex him in front of her, after all.

Lily was eyeing him suspiciously, squaring her shoulders. "No, I haven't." She didn't elaborate, even as James found himself wanting to know why that was, whether they were still friends. He held his tongue.

"Have you seen anybody else this summer?" James asked instead, trying to detract from the topic that so obviously was responsible for the sudden tension in the room.

Still wary, she shrugged. "Marlene was here for a week, before she went off abroad with her folks."

"That's too bad."

"I've gotten used to it, I'll live."

"Don't you go on trips much?"

"Well, unlike you and Mar, my family isn't rolling in ancestral inheritance," Lily said dryly, but it was not malicious. "But—we go to the countryside sometimes. And sometimes we visit my aunt in Wales. That's about it, really. We took the train to Paris once when I was young, that was nice."

James ruffled his hair sheepishly. "We used to go every summer too—this summer we didn't for obvious reasons. But it's been kind of nice, I think. Mum and dad can be such tourists. When we went to Sicily, mum spent galleons at the shop where they were selling little Odysseus figurines with swords. It kept mistaking my thumb for Cyclops and stabbing it, damn little bugger."

Lily laughed, and it sent a jolt through James's spine. It wasn't a delicate, small noise, rather a large, bubbly outburst that washed over James in a wave of warmth. He liked that she did not hold back, or cover her mouth when she laughed, or turn her face away or giggle into a napkin.

James found himself grinning at her. "I can bring one back for you next time."

Lily rolled her eyes, "And what would I use it for, pray tell?"

"To remind you of me, of course, and the sharp pain of unrequited love."

Lily swatted his comment away like it was dust in front of her face, but she didn't look angry—her lips hovered somewhere between a severe line of disapproval and a reluctant smile. "More like a reminder of what a sharp pain in the ass you are. And you don't love me."

"Don't I?" Lily looked up quickly at this and was met with a curiously somber expression on James's face as he regarded her closely. She blushed again and dropped her gaze, clearing her throat.

"So, er, I suppose I should leave you to it," Lily said awkwardly, grabbing another paper napkin off the table to fidget with.

"Nonsense," James said, back to his cheerful self, "Your company is very valuable to me. Especially because I haven't an inkling how to pay for myself in Muggle money."

But the matter was taken out of James's hands when the waitress sashayed back to their table with a trilled here's your check, sir, and she hovered by James's shoulder with a paper receipt and a pen. She tucked her hair behind her ear, no longer looking as pleasant as she did before as she glanced between Lily and James with a slightly nettled expression. James didn't seem to notice, taking the check from her with a winning smile.

"Thanks."

"Just leave it at the table when you're done. Have a nice day," she said airily, but she was walking away before she even finished her sentence.

James intelligently refrained from making any remarks about the waitress, instead squinting at the receipt and adjusting his glasses. He reached one hand into his pocket, fishing around for a few seconds before pulling out a wad of notes and coins and dumping them onto the table.

"Evans, will you be so kind as to help me figure out which bits are worth what?"

"Give it here," Lily said, taking the receipt from James and pulling the mound of money toward her, leaving behind a trail of coins.

"Thanks," James said gratefully, "Remus usually sorts out the Muggle money for us."

She would never admit this to James, but she found it endearing that he often used 'us' to refer to the Marauders rather than simply 'me' for himself, as if they were one unit. "What would you do without him," Lily said mocking, smiling to herself at the mention of her friend as she nudged aside a couple coins and a note.

"What indeed," James said solemnly.

Lily pushed the remaining money back toward James and gathered the rest in her palm, letting them slip from her fingers onto to the table next to the receipt. "Well, there you are. I left her a nice little tip too, for her all graciousness." She said the last bit with a hint of derision.

"You're a lifesaver, Evans," James sighed, getting to his feet and stretching. He really was very tall, Lily noted absently, as James unfurled his arms and raised them above his head, rotating his neck. Lily got up as well, gathering her things in silence.

"Don't mention it," she said, shouldering her bag. They stood looking at each other uncertainly. James looked like he was going to say something, ruffling his hair with one hand as he often did around her and peering at her from above the rims of his glasses. Lily raised an eyebrow challengingly, bracing herself for something outrageous or pompous or equally obnoxious.

"Well," James said abruptly, sticking both his hands in his pockets, "I'll see you around then."

"Yep," Lily said awkwardly, fiddling with the straps of her bag. James opened his mouth but closed it again, and shuffled toward the entrance, giving her a final weak smile as he backed away.

"Ta, Evans. Thanks for the coffee and company."

And just like that, he flung open the tinkling front door—startling a couple that sat on a small circular table next to the entrance—and shot out onto the streets, his body a haphazardly put-together assortment of uneasy energy, restlessness, and athletic limbs. Lily watched him through the decorated window as he walked with quick, long strides, exuding the contradictory synergy of nervousness and confidence that was so characteristic of him. He didn't look back as he left, nor did he hesitate, turning abruptly as he disappeared from around the corner moments later. Lily continued looking out the hazy windows with a slight frown, fingering the straps of her bag. In all her years of Hogwarts, that was perhaps the longest conversation she'd had with Potter and it was … alright. Pleasant. Civil. Amicable. But strange—very strange.

She didn't quite know what to make of it.