A/N: Very loose interpretation of my long overdue jilychallenge prompt from March:

"excuse me why did he have to take his top off whilst training us oh god oh gOD" mulan au with lily and the marauders as soldiers being trained by james

I estimate this will be a 3 part fic. It's plotted out but I'm not going to make promises about the speed of updates (shouldn't be horribly long). Rest assured it will be completed!

By the fall of 1980, the underground has managed to sneak nearly five thousand muggleborns out of the greater London area and into one of the many hideaways throughout continental Europe. And while the Fenwicks had a more intimate connection to the cause because of Lily, Benjy'd never tried to convince her to follow.

Sometime around six months in, when they were holed up at a checkpoint waiting to take out a few death eaters in the outskirts of Notting Hill, Benjy'd broken the tentative agreement to keep silent. "Is it my selfishness that's keeping me from asking if you want to go?"

Lily huffs and Benjy laughs quietly, "I don't want to lose my sister – but I also don't want to lose my sister."

A smile quirks her lips in the dark, "Quite the conundrum," she shoves his shoulder lightly, "But I'll make it easy for you. I'm not going."

At that he brushes a kiss to the crown of her head and the subject drops.

Until Benjy begins to draw suspicion for his lack of activity – visible activity – in society and consequentially, draws attention to his cohorts. Including family, and almost family. Which is problematic on many levels, with the most pressing being the fact that Lily's been living in hiding, essentially dead to the world, since she was fifteen.

"I don't understand the issue, Benjy," Lily sighs, scrubbing at a pot violently enough that the suds begin to fly, "At least involving me – I'll just continue with the appearance adjustments anytime we're seen in public, you're never with the same person twice."

"But if they look close enough – "

"They won't," Lily groans, impatient. "I'm more concerned about you."

Benjy quirks a brow, prompting Lily to elaborate, "If you're not around, or if you're around and in the wrong places…"

"So I leave my work with the underground – "

"Absolutely not," Lily says with an air of finality that leaves no room for argument, "There's got to be another solution."

Slumping down in one of the chairs left untucked from the table after their impromptu meeting with a few intelligence gatherers in the Ministry, Benjy sighs, "I just don't see a viable alternative."

It's quiet for a moment, both their minds whirring as Lily continues her meticulous cleaning in order to keep her hands busy. After a beat, she drops the scrub brush into the half full sink with a plop. "You don't need to re emerge, just Benjy Fenwick."

"Lil – I think maybe step away from the cleaning fluid."

She tosses a handful of bubbles at him. "Don't be a tosser – I mean they just need to think you're back."

Convincing though she is, it takes Lily a solid week of presenting her argument and slowly honing the plan to finally get Benjy to actually entertain the idea of someone – more specifically Lily – masquerading about as 'Benjy' for the general public to see and gawk about. It's another ten days before he lets her actually begin to hash out a plan, and a month and a half before they actually get it off the ground. Though Lily does neglect to remind Benjy that a major part of her plan hinges on her – a muggleborn – working her way through pureblood society in the most obvious way possible.

"No."

"I already made the polyjuice, Ben," Lily sighs, shoving a mouthful of mash between her lips.

"Well you can't have my hair," Benjy grunts.

"I already do."

With a scowl, Benjy leans back in his chair and sighs, "I knew my favorite thing about you would one day become the thing I hated most."

Dropping her fork, Lily lets her hand find his, brushing her fingertips across his knuckles comfortingly. "If there was another way."

Benjy swipes at his eyes messily. "I know. You're stupidly brave, but not reckless, yeah?"

"Only with a broom," Lily says lightly after a moment, silver lining her own eyes as she pushes their plates aside and locks her hands around his elbow, his doing the same.

It takes a fortnight for Benjy to agree she's gotten as close to mastering his particular accent and various peculiarities of movement and speech. It's another three days to get used to walking with the extra parts being Benjy requires, and two more to remember the Lily parts she no longer needs.

Her first entrance into pureblood society isn't some fancy soiree or overblown afternoon tea. They go subtle, and 'Benjy' arrives back in England from his tour abroad only to browse about in Diagon Alley for the afternoon.

It's relatively low-key, but she makes a little blurb in the society pages of the Prophet and a few gossip rags. But she goes alone, so it's just a short blurb about Benjy Fenwick returning – or skulking depending on who you ask – to magical Britain.

Once she returns to the Fenwick estate that evening, lips sore from smiling and feet aching with too many steps walked. "I think I need to be more scandalous."

Real Benjy quirks a brow at her as he pulls his coat on, readying for a night of questionable, but necessary, activity. "Don't tarnish my reputation."

Lily laughs, her close cropped locks gradually tarnishing to back to auburn and slowly slipping over her ears. "People buy sex."

"Ew. I already have to blot out the reality that you now have to use my body to piss – "

Tugging her shoes off with a wince, Lily plops on the gilt couch and sighs, "I just mean I need to go somewhere with a date – not even a real one. Dorcas'll do."

Readjusting her wand holster, the woman in question rounds the corner and knocks into the end table with a clatter. "You rang?"

Lily chuckles at the reference, snapping her fingers, while Benjy glances between them quizzically. "Muggle show on the telly about – "

Dorcas shrugs when Lily pauses, "Creepy family that doesn't know they're creepy."

Nodding, Lily accepts the summary and Dorcas laughs, "Kinda like you Fenwicks."

Benjy grunts, affronted, while Lily considers the proposition. "We are a bit strange."

After flicking Benjy's ear childishly, Dorcas lounges across the chintz wingback chair closest to the roaring fire and eyes them both. "So why were you discussing me before I came 'round."

"Lily-Benjy wants to take you on a date," Benjy supplies, retying his boots and studiously avoiding eye contact – though his blush can't really be hidden.

"Imagine – Benjy's lips with my unique perspective," Lily sighs, "I'll ruin you for anyone else."

While Lily and Dorcas wriggle their brows flirtatiously, Benjy rises, rolling his eyes and sighs impatiently in that way only brothers can. "It's not a real date, and we don't even have anywhere for you to go that would make an impact. Can't waste resources."

"Oi!" Dorcas yelps, tossing a cushion at his head with blistering accuracy, "I'm not resources."

"I meant the polyjuice," Benjy grumps, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously.

And as much as Lily loves a good tease, she takes pity on her brother, loosening the collar of her now too-big robes and propping her feet on the coffee table, and tugs a bright white envelope from her inner pocket and waves it. "I'd say a night at the Malfoy's won't be a waste, eh?"

When Lily's lying on one of the couches in the Fenwick library an hour before the Malfoy Gala, reading a novel she plucked from the shelf at random, she's wondering if she actually wants to be a woman full time again. About twenty minutes later, Dorcas calls her name twice before slamming the heavy wooden door open and drinking in Lily's lounged position. "I will not have 'Benjy' disgrace me in public."

Lily flips to the next page. "My robes are laid out, I've got more than enough polyjuice for the evening," she pauses as Benjy's shadow darkens the doorway, "Though I may need another vat of Sleekeazy's to get that usual shellacked look."

Benjy flips her off and disappears down the hall while the veritable collection of clocks that are littered through the manor ring the half hour.

"And that's my cue."

They make a more dramatic entrance than Lily would normally, but they are trying for noticeable so fashionably late and booming laughter it is, Dorcas draped over her arm in a respectable nevertheless flirtatious manner. Lily leans close and murmurs in her ear, "We seem to have the floor, proverbially speaking."

"Fuchsia has always been my color," Dorcas whispers back as she sends a flirtatious smile to a nearby wizard. He spills his drink and Lily has to bite back her smile. "Apparently so."

Pressing a kiss to her freshly shaven cheek, Dorcas winks. "Stick with me and we'll be talk of the party."

A promise Dorcas more than makes good on. They glide through the dance floor effortlessly – Lily's been learning to dance as a man, but she always fought the instinct to lead so it's not too challenging – until Dorcas declares it time for a drink and makes her way off to 'powder her nose.'

Lily's made her way toward one of the many open bars and claimed a place on line when the spicy scent of expensive cologne wafts over her shoulder and making her eyes water a bit. She's debating whether she can hold her breath long enough to tolerate the smell until she gets one of the many necessary she will have this evening when her new companion comes even with her. "Evening, Mr. Fenwick."

Turning, Lily bites back on a much stronger gag than previously induced by the cologne. "Dolohov."

Dolohov's face twists in a poor imitation of a smile. "I would not have expected you here, of all places."

Somehow, a smile works its way onto Lily's face despite the flashes of his victims – alive and dead – their injuries like the worst kind of burn victims, the screaming from the live and horror stricken faces of the dead. "Perhaps you don't know me as well as you guessed."

Dolohov quirks a brow and seems about ready to poke Lily just a little too much for her sanity when an arm warms her shoulders. "Don't mind if I interrupt, eh Antonin? No, didn't think so."

It happens in such a flurry that Lily's halfway across the crowded room when her first coherent thought is she lost her spot in line. She grunts at her kidnapper, "I was waiting for a drink, you know."

She finally sees her new companion, devilishly handsome and smirking in that way that makes everyone fall in love with him. "Sirius Orion Black, at your service."

The string quartet starts a new, bouncier tune and Dorcas reemerges from the loo, sending Lily a questioning glance. After sending a reassuring smile, Lily turns her attention back to Sirius Black as he pulls a flask from the depths of his impeccably tailored robes. "I can help with the drink, if you're not picky."

Lily smiles but waives it away, "Nah, I'll just wait 'til the line clears out a bit."

"Good luck," Sirius drawls, taking a swig before tucking it back away, "The only way to make it through a Malfoy party is to be well and truly pissed."

It's a struggle, not to be disarmed by Sirius' flashy grin and even more dazzling personality, but she perseveres. "I really should be getting back to my date."

Sirius' eyes dart to where Lily's gestured and Dorcas raises her champagne flute in recognition. He nods and turns back to Lily, all lightness gone, his tone low. "We really should have a chat, now you're back Benjy. I'd love to catch up."

Lily holds his gaze, shoulders squared. "Owl me, we'll get together."

With a nod, Lily gets the bartender's attention and manages to slip in her drink request and swipe it from the waxy counter before wending her way toward Dorcas. "Nice location choice."

Dorcas smirks around the rim of her glass, "No sound bouncing, full view of the room, wall at our backs. Not my first rodeo."

"Dolohov was real interested in chatting with me," Lily murmurs.

After a few moments, they both throw back the last of their drinks and Lily lets her gaze roam around the room. "Care to dance?"

"Don't embarrass me," Dorcas answers teasingly as Lily leads her to the center of the floor.

As the glide around the room in elegant circuits, Lily cases the room, "Sirius Black."

Dorcas snorts but doesn't provide any information beyond that.

"So?" Lily prompts, "I'm at a bit of a disadvantage."

"He's a bit of a wildcard, that one – family's a bunch of pureblooded arses but he hangs around with James Potter," Dorcas murmurs around the rim of her champagne glass, "And the Potter's have never really been accepted by the so-called 'Sacred Twenty-Eight'."

Lily snorts and tries to subtly slip her flask from it's hiding place, hoping the movement looks like she's got a thing for hard liquor and not – well not the truth. After taking a healthy swig, she narrows her eyes and scans the room, "So's Potter here? And being an outsider doesn't necessarily mean trustworthy, yeah?"

Dorcas hums thoughtfully, swiping an hors d'oeuvre from a passing waiter and crunches into the little mini crunchy something-or-other. "I always got a good feeling from him – bit of a prat, but who isn't at thirteen?"

"Me."

"Eh, special case," Dorcas says lightly, "They always had a head for pranks but the four of them tended to be on the right side when it counted."

"So – "

Dorcas rolls her eyes but tucks her arm through Lily's, pulling her through the pressing crowd to keep up the pretense of 'carefree partygoers'. "Haven't seen him yet – but it's rare to see one without the other."

"Sounds a bit," Lily hesitates, "Codependent."

A throat clears behind them and Lily's heart jumps in her throat, though she keeps her demeanor cool and calm. Though her pulse thrums when she turns and finds herself faced with six-foot-something worth of lanky beauty, with a rakish grin and clumsily adorable spectacles to boot. He blinks, head tilting sideways as if he's examining her. "We prefer endearingly brother-like connection."

Somehow, she does manage to will the blush from her cheeks and puts on that signature Benjy Fenwick swagger, but it's her teasing drawl that spills from her lips. "I'm sure you do."

James Potter's brows rise but he laughs, "Good to meet you – officially I should say – you've got quite the reputation."

Lily blinks, "So've you."

"Good I hope," Potter says lightly, swirling the amber liquid in his spotless glass.

"I've never been much for reputations," Lily offers, eyeing him up and down, "I prefer forming my own opinion."

And while Potter volleys something back, airy and with that little lilt of an accent that has some secret part of her melting, Dorcas pinches Lily's inner arm and murmurs under her breath, "Op-stay irting-flay."

"Was not," Lily grumbles out of the corner of her mouth, just as James' lofty speech comes to a close, his gaze alight with humor.

"I won't keep you from your lovely date any longer Ben – seems she's about to claw my eyes out."

As an afterthought – or perhaps what he wants to appear as an afterthought – James pauses and reaches his hand into the inner pocket of his robes and presents Lily with a crisp cream-colored card. "We should get together and discuss business and – things."

He's halfway across the ballroom when Dorcas leans close so her lips brush Lily's ear, "I'm not sure if you got us a lead or Benjy a date."

They stay up late into the night, hashing and rehashing the rather dull events of the evening as Lily slowly slips back into her own skin. Despite the hours spent practicing how to be Benjy while being Benjy, Lily still shivers when the last of her becomes her again. A thudding sort of headache is growing at the base of her skull – whether from stress, tiredness, or alcohol she's not quite sure – when Benjy leans back in his chair and sighs. "Sounds to me like your choices based on this evening are relatively simple. Potter or no Potter."

"How so?"

Benjy shrugs, "Well, as there was only one person who made any allusions about further contact, the question is whether we think you should have further contact."

Dorcas stirs her tea absentmindedly, dress robes tugged up to her knees and bunching around her waist as she slumps in her seat. "Don't see why she wouldn't."

Lily fishes around for the card in her now overlarge robes and examines it thoughtfully, "What's the pureblooded thing to do? Owl him with posh stationary or show up at his manor – I assume all you people have them – and try and catch him off guard?"

Benjy flicks his wand at the hearth and the flames rise in response, warm and comforting after an evening spent hobnobbing in the most uncomfortable way possible and Lily finally feels herself start to relax. Her eyes have just begun to drift shut when Benjy hums thoughtfully. "I vote letter."

"You're no fun," Dorcas grumbles, summoning a box of biscuits from the kitchen with a lazy twist of her wrist.

"So," Lily prompts, working the first few brass buttons on her robes free and tilting her head in Benjy's direction.

"Want lessons in forging my handwriting?"

"I perfected that particular talent one particularly boring fortnight in what would've been my fourth year."

Benjy chuckles, "Bet you spent hours poring over my riveting letters home."

"Mum Fenwick had me correct them for spelling and grammar errors," Lily drawls, topping off her tea, "I s'pose I'll need to work on that if I'm going to be convincing as you."

"Stuff it."

"You."

Dorcas clears her throat, "Riveting as I'm sure the rest of your repartee will be – what will the letter say?"

Dunking a crumbly shortbread biscuit in her tea, Lily shrugs, "Swotty stuff, heavy hints that 'Benjy' wants to be friends."

"Well, let's get it done before I pass out right on the table, yeah?" Benjy suggests, hiding a yawn.

Clearing her throat importantly, Lily strides across the hall and into the den where one of the seven writing desks tucked throughout Fenwick Manor is housed and perches on the dainty chair. "Shall we begin?"

A few uneventful and utterly unremarkable owls are exchanged between them before Lily's hand is hovering over the fireplace, fist clenched around a pinch of floo powder while Benjy gives her a few last instructions.

"…And if you feel endangered at all – "

"Ben – I've got a handful of floo powder currently clumping in my palm," Lily interrupts, "And I'd give you a goodbye peck on the cheek but – "

Benjy grimaces, patting her on the shoulder awkwardly, "Nah, I'd like to make it through my life without having kissed myself in any way."

And before Benjy can complete his eye roll, Lily's disappeared into the flames, and landed in a swirl of green sparks in what she hopes is Potter Manor.

The room she's entered is cozy, for all it's opulence, two well-worn high-backed leather chairs stand like sentinels on either side of the fireplace she's stepped out of, an intricate rug below her feet, thick and plush.

But her eyes quickly leave the vivid reds and blues of the weave beneath her, drawn to the portraits that line the walls 'til the embossed wallpaper behind them is nearly imperceptible.

The subjects begin chattering almost as soon as she steps from the flames, dusting her robes off, but one man somewhere near the center clears his throat and strokes his rather pointed facial hair as he waits for his relatives to fall silent.

Once they've begin to quiet, he shares a commiserating glance with Lily and sighs, "James did say he was expecting a guest," he tucks his pocket watch back into his waistcoat and dips his head in the manner of posh gentlemen, "I'll be off to fetch my roguish young great nephew."

The as yet unidentified Potter ancestor disappears in a dramatic swirl of robes Lily's willing to bet is a family trait while the remaining portraits quiet down. The inhabitant of the one furthest to the left bottom corner, encased in a rather ornate albeit ancient looking frame, turns his piercing gaze on Lily and tucks her monocle over her left eye, "You – come closer."

Fighting the instinct to look over her shoulder and confirm that she is the one being addressed, Lily brushes a bit of soot from her shoulders and makes her way to the corner. "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Potter."

"Everyone called me Gert, you'd do well to do the same," the older woman says with a surprisingly cheery grumble.

"Well then it's a pleasure, Gert," Lily corrects easily, "I'd normally offer my hand but – "

Gert waves her away, eyes dragging over Lily's borrowed robes, "Never was much for ceremony," she clucks her tongue, "I prefer irreverent rule breakers."

"Which is why I'm you're favorite great-great-great grandson," James Potter's voice calls from the doorway so suddenly Lily nearly upends the delicately carved table behind her.

Rolling her eyes, Gert stage whispers to Lily, "He's my only great-great-great grandson – had to make lemonade, eh?"

James harrumphs as another voice joins the conversation, "I resent my glaring absence from this narrative. Good to see you again, Benny – can I call you Benny?"

Lily shrugs, "Sirius Orion Black, can I call you S-O-B?"

Sirius arches backward, barking out a laugh that echoes through the paneled wood parlor, "Wouldn't be inaccurate."

Gert snickers and shoos them off to do the things 'young, alive people do'.

With a short wave, James acknowledges the Potters chattering from the wall before glancing at Lily, "Perhaps we'll go somewhere where the walls have less ears?"

Lily snorts and claps James on the shoulder that way she's seen Benjy do a million times, "Sounds like a plan, Potter. Though Gert and I were hitting it off."

"She's a regular ol' flirt," Sirius says with a laugh, leading the way toward the front of the manor, James close behind. Lily does her best to take in her surroundings, marking the path in the event a speedy exit is needed.

Mostly, she finds elegantly papered walls, plush rugs, and family photos on every available surface – a large majority of which seem to document the life of one James Potter. Who, Lily will admit in the privacy of her own mind, was an adorable baby.

They round another corner and once again, the room they've entered is luxurious and clearly displays the Potter's wealth, but has an unexpected coziness about it that would put Lily at ease, were she not currently telling about five lies just by being here and trying to decide whether she's in the presence of death eaters.

The room is nearly as wide as it is long, windows from floor to ceiling on the farthest walls that let in blocks of sunlight that illuminate the room. Lily claims a seat in the corner with easy access to potential exits and a full view of her surroundings, save a couple of landscapes in heavy gold frames over her head.

Sirius easily claims more than half the couch for himself, sprawled across the tapestry cushions like he owns the place while James positions himself at the fireplace, smaller than the other but framed by an intricately carved mantel. Before they can try and drum up some sort of small talk, a third – or fourth depending on whether Lily counts – man enters with a tea service. The Potters get at least one mark in their favor since they don't have house elves, or at least prefer to not give the appearance they do.

The newcomer smiles, a bit hesitant, and blows his lank brown hair back from his eyes as he strides toward the tea table. After setting the tray down with a small clatter, he lopes over to the unclaimed half of the couch and settles back comfortably.

"Benjy – this sorry sod is none other than Remus John Lupin."

Remus' eyes spark with interest at Benjy's name, his gaze taking in the carefully selected robes and coiffed hair while Lily does the same, noting his neat but well-worn robes that seem to hang a bit too loosely from Remus' lanky form.

Sirius is the first to lean forward and begin preparing his tea, claiming a few biscuits while he's at it, and the others follow suit in turn while he stirs his drink slowly. "Shame you didn't come a bit earlier – could've met Pete."

Lily raises a brow in question – hopefully Benjy doesn't know 'Pete' – and James takes the hint. "Peter Pettigrew. Friend of ours since Hogwarts," he pauses to add another lump of sugar to his tea, "Had something come up he couldn't miss."

"Always has been a mum's boy," Sirius chuckles, sipping his tea.

With a roll of his eyes, James dunks his biscuit in his milky tea. "You're one to talk."

And at Sirius' gasp, James amends, "My mum – your actual mum's another story."

"Don't be jealous of our love," Sirius sighs, propping one foot on the table while Remus rolls his eyes skyward.

James looks like he's about to fire some barb back when Remus clears his throat and slants his gaze toward Lily meaningfully and James' expression sobers. "Ah – yes," he laughs a little, "Remus is best at keeping us on track for things."

Balancing her tea on her knee, Lily tries to keep the tenseness rising in her chest from showing and slants her lips in a smile she's seen on Benjy countless times. "Is there an itinerary for the day? Light chatting and then gentleman's games in the garden?"

"We always do lunch before gentleman's games," Sirius gasps, scandalized, "We're not barbarians."

Remus drops his head back against the settee and groans, "Oh my god."

James shares a commiserating glance with Lily, impatience battling how endeared he is to his friends. "Anyway. Not to put too fine a point on it, but we've looked into you and your family."

"Ominous," Lily puts in.

"Nothing nefarious, Benny," Sirius assures, somehow sinking further into his seat. It's a good thing Lily's the one getting all this 'Benny' business because the real Benjy would've hexed Sirius into next week by now – artistic liberties never save a life before.

Narrowing his eyes at Sirius, James picks up as if the interruption hadn't occurred, "We're part of a venture of sorts, and it seems your family has a tendency to tread lightly where politics are concerned."

Lily tilts her head, an invitation to continue.

"But it's been my experience that silence doesn't mean there's no stance – "

"We may often find ourselves in Gryffindor, but Fenwicks don't act rashly."

James' eyes find hers and he practically pins her with his stare, unreadable though it is. "No, but you don't sit on the sidelines when there's work to be done – Ralston Potter was a close friend of Gyles Fenwick."

Brows rising, Lily strokes her chin – stubble already rising along her jaw – and hums. Much as she'd like to dive into whatever their undertaking is head first, whether to further it or to destroy it from the inside remains to be determined, she's not alone in her own subterfuge. So hedging it is. "The Statute of Secrecy was a fairly singular issue, wouldn't you say?"

"In hindsight, yes, but perhaps not always," Remus muses, fingers toying with the tassels that decorate the cushion beneath his arm.

Smoothing her robes, Lily sets her tea off to the side. "It has been two hundred years since the last Fenwick for something publicly – controversial or no," she pauses, "So you understand my hesitance."

With a rather fantastic and beautifully inappropriate growl, Sirius sits forward, feet dropping to the thick rug with two thuds, "So you're saying no."

Lily lets her eyes find James' and addresses him, though she's answering Sirius' question. "I'm saying, wait."