Author's Note: I'm not going to offer any excuses, and I probably deserve a slap. I might look over former chapters and rework them – again. I'm never happy with this fic because I was an awful writer when I started it. Now I think I'm a reasonably good writer and it doesn't fit with my standards. Urgh. Anyway, I updated. Finally. And you all thought I'd abandoned it!

It's short. The reason this chapter eluded me so long is because all of the stuff I really wanted to write – getting into the serious Lily/James stuff, happens in the chapter immediately following this one, which I can promise is long and full of interaction. This is just a way to bridge between. I apologise again for having kept everybody waiting, and I will endeavour to hurry the next chapter as fast as my fingers can carry me.

The Beginning

Were the baby to scream, it would have been a welcome interruption, but the chubby little demon was finally peaceful. Lily's spell had done the job for which it had been designed, and little Dudley fell into a slumber; she had never felt unhappier to have performed magic with such precision.

There was, for there could be no other way, silence. It was an eerie silence, punctuated only by the sounds of errant shards of glass that dropped belatedly to the floor, and joined the rest of the devastated mirror. She could think of nothing to say. She was truly astonished, and terrified besides. All that she could do was stare in horror at James Potter, bewildered, and all James Potter did was stare right back at her, as if she was the first human being he had ever seen in his life. This was as much as she felt – as if she had been blinded for an age and was finally permitted to see, and she did not think she could ever forget how he looked at that exact moment, not if she lived for another hundred years. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, but an actual wizard, flesh and bone, with magical blood running through his veins, real and breathing and utterly undeniable. And her wand was pointing directly at his chest.

This thought seemed to dawn upon him as it had upon her, for he also held his wand aloft, but hastily dropped his arm to his side. He eyed her own wand warily, as though worried she might have attempted to modify his memory again, but the idea was not appealing. He had deflected her first attempt ill-prepared, and besides, she had wanted to meet a wizard for longer than she could remember. She had not spoken to a magical being since her one bittersweet visit to Diagon Alley, over seven years previously, and had never known one in her adult life.

She lowered her own wand and looked to Potter's feet, which were surrounded by shards of glass.

"The mirror," she said hollowly, in a voice that wasn't her own. "We smashed the mirror."

"Right," he muttered, and flicked his wand at the ornate, but empty wooden frame. "Reparo."

The fragments of glass flew back to whence they came and mirror repaired itself in an instant, perfect, and apparently unspoiled. This was a small and barely impressive display of magic, indeed, a spell that Lily herself had mastered at a very young age. Doing it herself, however, was not the same as seeing it done by another person, and it was too much for her to take without reacting. She felt her knees buckle beneath her and swayed dangerously, clutching Dudley's crib to keep herself on her feet.

"Merlin," said Potter, and took a quick step towards her, seemingly concerned. "Are you ill?"

"No, I am not ill," she replied sharply, irritated by her show of weakness. She was not in possession of knees that buckled regularly. "I'm in shock. Can't you tell, as you're so ruddy clever?"

"Well, pardon me for showing concern," he shot back resentfully. "I assure you I wouldn't have, had I known it would offend you so."

"I can do without your concern, thank you," she retorted. She was confused, and flustered, and very, very angry, although she had no real reason to be. The idea that James Potter could be magical, that he could be the person that she had been desperately hoping to meet for so much of her life, was so ludicrous, and unfair, that it hurt her somewhat. Some grand illusion of hers had been shattered. If only he had been Remus Lupin. "A wizard. You. It's not possible! How can you be a wizard?"

He blinked at her, and his expression darkened. "Pardon?"

"Well, yes." She stalled, searching for clever words now that she had gathered steam, and finding none. "Explain yourself."

"You wish to know how I could be a wizard?" he echoed, and then she saw a flash of anger, and his voice rose considerably. "How could I be a wizard? How could you be a witch?"

She bristled. "Surely one is just as likely as the other?"

"No!" Potter shouted, and Lily jumped, startled. "One is not just as likely as the other, because I don't know you! I have never in my life heard of you! More to the point, if you truly were a witch, you most certainly would have heard of me!"

"What arrogance!" she cried in response, and let go of Dudley's crib, having been provoked into sturdiness. James Potter, who plotted and schemed and attempted to use her as a pawn in his quest to humiliate Edward Chamberly, had no right to think that she would stoop to falsehoods. "Do you suggest that I must be aware of your existence in order to be what I am? Is your belief in your own importance so inflated that it has driven you to the brink of stupidity?"

"My family are influential!" Potter retorted. "They are known to every member of the wizarding community! It matters not if you are Muggle-born, you would know. Even if you attended Beaubaxtons, you are still English, you would -"

"I did not attend Beaubaxtons!" she interrupted. It was a miracle that Dudley did not wake. "Nor, for that matter, did I attend Durmstrang. Care to insult me again?"

"You were certainly never at Hogwarts," he replied tartly. "Or perhaps darling Edward is mistaken as to your age. Is that the case? Have you fooled him into believing you to be much younger than you are in an attempt to marry into wealth?"

"How dare you?" she cried. "I turned eighteen at the end of January! I would never do such an abominable thing!"

"Then you are barely two months older than I am! You would have been in my year!"

"Has it not occurred to you," she hissed, fuming, having drawn herself up to her fullest height. "That I did, in fact, attend Hogwarts, but you are so ridiculously enamoured of yourself that you simply took no notice of me over the course of the time that we spent there?"

Even as she boiled over she knew that her anger was unfounded – indeed, she had provoked him on purpose – and that she was acting like a spoiled brat. Moreover, she had never shouted at another person before in her life, most certainly not at a man, whose gender alone was enough to elevate him higher than she could ever reach in the collective opinion of the world. Yet, here she was, shouting, enraged, and instead of reeling back in horror or berating her for not knowing her place, he was engaging with her. Arguing with her. As if she was his equal, and it made her feel powerful.

She enjoyed it, she realised. She was holding ideas typically decreed to be above her station, and Potter didn't care.

"Oh, of course," he was saying, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I spent seven years in ignorance of your existence and then happened to notice you at a ball where, if you recall correctly, I informed you that you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I am in awe of your immense capacity for logical thinking, Miss Evans!"

It wasn't a compliment. Potter had hurled his estimation of her beauty in her face as if beauty was a disgusting thing, like an insult, and it cowed her just long enough for her to regain some sense of propriety. She shut her mouth and leaned against the crib, face burning with embarrassed at how she had behaved herself, and it must have done something to calm Potter's temper, for he also seemed to relax, and looked quite ashamed of himself.

"Forgive me," he said, and looked down at the floor. "That was uncalled for, and I've been unforgivably rude. I can't imagine what you must think of me."

"No, please, don't apologise," she replied, also looking at the floor. "I was equally rude, if not more so. I believe I goaded you on purpose."

"You were in shock."

"As were you," she pointed out. "And, you know, my name is Lily. After what you've discovered today, you could simply call me that." She sniffed. "Please."

"You seem quite insistent upon being called by your given name," he said, sheepishly. Lily looked up and met his eyes - framed by glasses and floppy black hair – and for a brief moment the look on his face was so very sweet that she almost could have felt fond of him. "The social niceties of Muggles don't call for it, I think."

She considered this for a long moment. She had not been aware that the wizarding world may have operated with a different set of rules as far as etiquette was concerned. Siobhan had never told her as much. "Nobody ever calls me Lily," she eventually ventured, quietly. "And I hate it, truly. I wish that somebody would."

"I have had the nerve to disturb you like this, and upset you besides," said Potter. "I could oblige you in that wish; it's the least that I can do."

"My mother would hardly approve."

"Would you?"

"Pardon?"

He blinked. "Would you approve?"

"Well, yes."

"Then, I don't care much of what your mother might think."

"That's a weighty declaration, coming from the mouth of one so influential," she said, but without her previous bite and malice. If anything, it was teasing. He caught the meaning of her tone and grinned, pink-cheeked.

"I sickened myself a little, when I said as much," he admitted. "My family are very well known, I can't lie, but it isn't something that I make a habit of bragging about. Honestly," he added, with a shrug. "You must think me a dreadful cad."

"Oh, I do," she said. "But you are also a wizard, and I've yearned for so long to meet a wizard that I can hardly hold that against you."

"Haven't you met another wizard?" said Potter, and his brows knit together. "I don't understand."

"Not for the longest time," she said, and sighed. "Over seven years. I wasn't permitted to attend school, you see, but my father allowed me to travel to Diagon Alley, and – Oh!"

"Oh?"

"Peter!" she cried, eyes shining.

"What about Peter?" said Potter immediately, frowning.

"Ollivander's!" Lily gushed, and she laughed, so silly had she been to forget where she had seen Peter before. "I forgot him! He was so much smaller, and younger, and I never expected to see him again. Not here, oh, never here! I never told him that I wouldn't be attending Hogwarts – I was so ashamed, you see, ashamed that I would have to teach myself. But I remember his face, his face is just the same. Just the same!"

"You taught yourself magic?" said Potter, bewildered.

"Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black," Lily was muttering beneath her breath, but then her attention was back on James, eyes blazing with a sudden and fervent desire to learn anything he could think to tell her. "Are they wizards, too? Are you all wizards, all four? Did you go to Hogwarts together?"

"Well, yes," said James. "We were in Gryffindor house, but do you really mean to say that you actually taught yourself –"

"Do you play Quidditch?" Lily interrupted. "Any of you? All of you? Was that your Snitch I discovered on the beach? I have it locked away in my trunk, you know. I can fetch it. Do you think that -"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Potter muttered under his breath, and raised his voice to shout. "Lily!"

Lily's words died in her throat, and she made a meek hiccupping sound.

"Yes?"

"Hello," James announced morosely, having trudged into the room, as if fresh from the burial of a beloved friend. Remus, Sirius and Peter gave him their immediate attention, knowing that he would have stood in the doorway and moped until they did. Satisfied that he was the centre of the room's focus, he stumbled to the bed and lay face down upon it.

"I see that you enjoyed your walk," said Remus wryly, but James did not respond. In his corner, Peter set down the scarf he had been knitting and sat up a little straighter, his round face flushed with the delight of having some important gossip to share.

"We have news for you, Prongs!"

"I'm in no mood for news," James responded, his words muffled by a pillow. "I'm troubled."

"Surely not," said Sirius. "Did you not find Lily well?"

"What?" said James sharply, and his head snapped up to attention. He called out in pain and dropped it back down, pouting. "How did you know that?"

"Where else would you have gone?"

"You are a dreadful liar," said Remus. "Have you hurt yourself?"

"Pulled my neck," James mumbled, rubbing the affected area with two of his fingers. "She's a witch."

"How did you know that?" Peter cried, dismayed. "We were planning to tell you the same!"

"I caught her."

"Undressing?" said Sirius, his eyes betraying the first spark of real interest he had had in the matter concerning Lily Evans all day.

"No," said James, and allowed himself a moment to picture such a spectacular scene. He gave an involuntary shudder, and decided to leave that thought until the night, when he was quite alone in one of the guest bedrooms. "Performing magic. She has a wand."

"Yes!" said Peter. "She does indeed! She purchased it in Diagon Alley. That is where I met her first!"

"Hurrah," said Sirius, dryly.

"You can laugh," said Peter, "I was losing sleep over that conundrum."

"Your life is thrilling, Pete."

"She told me as much already," said James in response to Peter, and frowned. "Her parents forbade her to go to Hogwarts, but they allowed her a wand, and books, and she has taught herself for seven years."

"That's unfortunate," said Remus, frowning, and feeling sympathetic, James could only assume. "Although I can imagine that it must be something that happens to other families."

"Some Muggles can be scared of what they don't understand," put in Peter, nodding wisely. "I don't recall her telling me that she wouldn't be joining us, and I never thought to look for her on September first. Perhaps she was ashamed."

"Understandable," said Remus. "How is her magic?"

"Brilliant," said James, with a longing sigh. The mere fact that Lily was a self-taught magical genius only added to her overall appeal, as had the raking down she had given him when he had disturbed her. "She would have Obliviated me, had my own excellence not intervened."

"Does her modesty match yours, too?" said Sirius, with an evil smirk.

James flipped over so that he was lying on his back, and ignored Sirius, knowing that he was merely trying to goad him. Sirius enjoyed the friendships he shared with James, Peter and Remus, and felt threatened whenever he felt that their group was in danger of being broken or damaged. This much he knew after seven years of brotherhood. "She could have been one of the best in the year, had she gone, as she should have. If she had gotten the proper teaching. I disagree with her parents, and I can't forgive them for it."

"It was their choice, James," said Peter gently. "She was only a child at the time."

"It's not right," James insisted. "They ought to pay for it, and she should be part of our world. Will be. I'm going to help her."

"Oh?" said Remus.

"I'll have to think on it, first, and work out a real plan, but I offered my help and she has accepted. I am going to teach her to Apparate."

"Charitable of you," said Sirius. "I'm sure you offered only out of the goodness of your heart, and not for any other shameful reason."

"I did, as a matter of fact," said James, and glared at his friend. "I am of sterling heart. I am a kind soul. I offered out of sympathy, nothing more. I also told her that I would take her to Hogwarts."

"And enrol her?" said Sirius, with a snort. "I think she's a little too old."

"No," said James, and scowled. Sirius' attitude towards Lily Evans was beginning to grate on him. "No. I just want her to see it. She should see it. She should have gone there, with us."

"But she did not," said Sirius, as if that settled everything, and James ought to have forgotten the subject. "So what does it matter?"

"She ought to have," said James angrily. "She could have been in Gryffindor. She would have been in Gryffindor."

"How can you be so sure of that?" said Peter.

"She would have," James insisted, getting into his stride. Dramatics and theatrics were what he revelled in, but more importantly, he felt truly sure of his own convictions at that moment. "I would have wanted her in Gryffindor. She should have been in Gryffindor. She should be part of our world, not part of theirs, not with Chamberly." He sat up quickly, and with purpose. He had a pronouncement to make, and pronouncements should not be made lying down. After all, why should she have been part of that world? "Chamberly shouldn't have her. He can't have her. I want her."

"She's a woman, James," said Remus. "She is not something to possess."

"I know that!" said James hotly, with fire in his belly. "I do. He doesn't! He wants to own her, and boast of her, and parade her about liked a prized pig. I want – I don't want her in that way. I want – Merlin's sake, I'll let her parade me around like a prized pig, if that's what she wants."

"You're being sanctimonious," said Sirius, and James boldly threw a book at him.

"Please," said Remus wearily. "Stop throwing my possessions."

"It's not sanctimony," James insisted. "It's heroism."

"Heroism, James?" said Peter, raising an eyebrow. James scowled. Peter's ability to raise one eyebrow had been a bone of contention with him for many years, as he was unable to do it himself.

"Perhaps heroism is a bit much, then," he admitted, annoyed. "But it's something good, something great. She deserves better than the life she has and I'm going to help her seize it. She'll be free from her family, and free to make her own choices. And then," he added, and faltered. "And then I'll marry her."

"I thought you wanted her to be free to make her own choices," said Sirius, and rolled his eyes. "I believe that making her marry you will step on that ambition, just a little."

"I won't make her," he said, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "She'll choose it."

"You can't be sure."

"Yes, I can," he insisted loudly. "It's fate. I know it is. She's meant for me and I for her. Why else would I have met her at this time? You wouldn't know about it, Sirius, you got a T in Divination."

"As did you!"

"Only to keep you from feeling inadequate!"

"Children!" Remus shouted, effectively shutting up both James and Sirius. "You'll disturb the whole household if you don't quieten down."

"It's his fault," said James, sinking backwards into the pillows, sulking like a petulant child. He had expected a hero's salutation, and instead he was being disparaged. "He's deliberately being obtuse."

"Said the pot to the cauldron," said Sirius, scowling darkly. "Why do you care so much about this bloody girl, in any case?"

"Because," said James, and set his jaw determinedly. "I think I might be in love with her."

"Dramatic," said Remus.

"Pathetic," said Sirius.

"I'll fetch the Firewhiskey, shall I?" said Peter.

I am deeply, deeply sorry, you guys.