Something Wicked This Way Comes

8. The Quidditch

A thin stream of silvery material dangled from the end of Albus Dumbledore's wand. He considered it for a moment, what he knew it contained and how it fit into the puzzle he was trying to complete, before letting it slip into a clear phial and capping it shut. With his wand, he marked the phial with his name and the date, and placed it on the shelf among hundreds of other memories.

His eyes lit upon a phial he had been thinking about quite a lot recently. The label read 'James Potter, 1 August 1977' and Dumbledore considered it for a moment. This memory brought him great hope. It might not have been a necessity to the narrative he was attempting to construct, but this memory of James Potter's, it gave him the hope and strength to carry on.

Today felt like an appropriate occasion to revisit that particular memory.

Gently, Dumbledore retrieved the phial from the shelf of memories and brought it to his pensive. The memory swirled and danced when he poured it into the basin, gathering steam and whirling around as if begging the Headmaster to lean in, to experience it for himself.

The familiar sensation of falling assaulted him, and the next moment he had landed hard in the middle of a wheat field with a thud only he could hear.

Three of his former students, Yaxley, Rosier and Bellatrix Lestrange stood around the petrified form of James Potter; Yaxley looking disgruntled and Rosier pleased while Bellatrix was on her knees, leaning over James' face and staring into his eyes.

"Well, get on with it," Yaxley scoffed, folding his arms.

Bellatrix sat back and drew her wand, then pushed the tip between James' eyes, forcing his glasses down his nose.

"Imperio..." She whispered, her eyes widening with a madness Dumbledore had always feared would show itself.

James reacted immediately, the petrification wearing off as the Imperious Curse took over his mind and body. He blinked rapidly, unable to look away from Bellatrix and she grinned cruelly back at him.

Dumbledore knew her pride was at stake after the incident in Diagon Alley when James had taken her husband's wand and impeded her in the murder of her cousin.

"Sit," Bellatrix hissed, and like a marionette, James sat straight up, his back tall and his eyes trained only on her.

The signs of the mind control curse on James were heartbreaking. For someone so free-spirited and willful—regardless of the occasional innocent trouble making those qualities may have caused—Dumbledore liked that about his Head Boy, and it was disturbing to see him under Bellatrix's spell.

"Who are you?" Bellatrix cooed, running her hand through James hair and down his cheek until she reached his chin. She grabbed it roughly, her talon-like nails cutting into his flesh.

"James Fleamont Potter," he replied immediately, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I am your mistress, James Potter," Bellatrix whispered, low and deadly. "You will return to that farmhouse, and kill every last man, woman and child within its walls. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he replied clearly. "I will kill them all."

"And then," Bellatrix continued, her voice both sultry and conniving, "I want you to kill my cousin Sirius." She leaned closer to James, rubbing her cheek against his like a lover. "Slowly, painfully, cruelly... before you kill yourself."

"Yes," he agreed. "Cruelly."

Bellatrix laughed in delight as James got to his feet, looked around once, then walked with purpose through the wheat field towards the farmhouse to complete his mission.

Dumbledore followed James through the chest high wheat back to the Prewett farmhouse. James was frowning, something you didn't normally see in an Imperioused person. Generally, people were happy to be cursed, to not have to think for themselves, to not have to be themselves even if the idea of it was horrifying to the independent mind. Losing yourself completely to another's will and whims.

James, and Dumbledore beside him, reached the end of the field, the now burnt-out farmhouse only meters away. Three bodies had been covered with white sheets while others appeared injured or helping those in need. Gideon Prewett had a terrible burn on the right side of his face, being tended to by Dorcas Meadows. Alice Longbottom was unconscious while her husband Frank tried to revive her. Mad-Eye Moody was shouting orders and arguing with Fabian Prewett and Emmeline Vance. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew were frantic, running from person to person, shouting any spells they could think of to find their friend.

Sirius held a silver compact mirror in his hand, shouting James' name repeatedly. The first time Dumbledore watched this memory he'd realized Sirius' voice was echoing from James' trouser pocket where a connected mirror was tucked away. Those boys never failed to impress him.

James drew his wand then, and Dumbledore watched his face carefully, his hazel eyes shooting from one of his friends to the next. They were to be murdered by his hand, his mistress had commanded it.

He raised his wand, aiming for Frank Longbottom first, the beginnings of a curse on his lips.

Then he bit his lip, frowned, blinked twice and shook his head, his wand arm lowering to his side. But the resistance didn't last long. The serenity of the Imperious Curse took over once more, and James raised his wand again, his eyes dead and dark.

Frank Longbottom turned to look then. "James?"

"My mistress commands it," James said in a low voice that suddenly had the entire group's attention.

"James!" Sirius began to jog towards him. "James! Prongs!"

Dumbledore saw James swallow thickly. His lips quivered with the incantation of the killing curse, and just as it looked liable to spring from his throat, he dropped his wand arm again and shook his head hard.

"James!" Sirius tried again, desperately, his handsome face pale with true terror as he approached his friend.

James threw his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking for a moment before he screamed. It was a horrible, painful sound.

"Get away from me!" He cried, his voice wretched, brutal and broken.

Sirius and Frank both took a few nervous steps back, wary and conflicted as they watched their friend struggle within his own mind.

James flung his wand away and doubled over, his head still clasped in his hands, his face now touching his knees. He screamed in terrible agony.

"He's fighting the Imperious curse," Frank said suddenly, and Sirius looked at him like he was mad.

"WHAT!"

James dropped to his knees now, shaking and rocking while his friends could do nothing but watch. And then finally the shaking slowed, he lowered his hands to the earth so he was on all fours, he lifted his head. His eyes were red and his face was white, his breathing heavy.

"Holy shit," James muttered, more to himself than the others.

Dumbledore chuckled to himself. That was always his favourite part. That was when it was clear James Potter was truly himself again.

The memory ended and the Headmaster landed back in his office, stepping away from the pensive. He took a deep breath and nodded.

He had made the right choice in James Potter.

Lily spent the remainder of that week in a daze, the depressed zombie kind. James hated her again, unfair though that may have been. Then there had been an attack on the Ministry office that dealt with the dementors of Azkaban; one wizard dead, another found to be under the Imperious curse and a third telling the Daily Prophet this was nothing to worry about. It worried Lily. Greatly.

And then, there was her mother. Lily had thought having a way to communicate with her face to face would be a great help to her her mum and be a weight off her own shoulders. Instead it was only the former.

The morning after James gave Lily the mirrors she'd gone straight to McGonagall and begged for her or anyone else to apparate to Cokeworth to deliver one of the mirrors. There had been tears, horrible gut-wrenching tears and finally McGonagall agreed to send someone discrete to Cokeworth by the afternoon. She was also kind enough to inform Lily that apparation wards had been placed around her mother's house like those around Hogwarts—in some ways this was a relief, in others it made Lily worry all the more that her mother was in danger.

And if her mother was in such danger, how many other Muggle-borns' parents were going through the same thing?

Finally, after hours of sitting on her bed, staring at her own reflection in the magic mirror, neglecting classes and Head Girl duties and anyone who tried to knock on her portrait door, Lily's mother's voice rang through the room.

"Lily Evans?"

Lily released an anguished cry and snatched up the mirror. "Mum!" She sobbed, unable to stop herself from breaking down into horrible tears.

"Lily!" Her mother gasped, looking horrified. "What's wrong, my love? What's happened? Are you alright? The man who brought me the mirror, he said you were okay?"

"I'm alright, mum," Lily sniffed, trying to regain control of her emotions so she could have a proper discussion. "I'm sorry, Petunia wrote to me and told me about the heart attack and the pace maker and I've been so bloody worried—"

"Lily!" Her mum scolded, frowning. "Don't you swear!"

Lily couldn't stop herself from laughing through her tears and her mother beamed at this.

"There's my Lily-Love," she smiled. "Oh, my love, I wish I could hug you! Where's your lovely friend Marlene, can she give you a cuddle? Or Mary? That Mary has a mouth on her but I can't help but like her spirit..."

"Mum—" Lily cut her off, shaking her head. "What happened, what did the doctors say?"

Her mother sighed, as if the whole thing was a terrible inconvenience rather than a life-threatening condition. Her stiff upper lip mentality never failed to impress Lily, and Petunia did her best to embody it.

"Well, I was at bridge with Mrs White, Mrs Hinkly and Mrs Elton-Stuart. and I had a terrible chest pain..." She went on to describe a nerve wracking but otherwise simply bothersome experience, and what the doctors told her afterwards. The pace maker. Petunia being "...so silly about these things. I may not like that Vernon but at least he was a comfort to her." And then the medication and advice the doctors gave her.

"Did they say why?" Lily sniffled, her tears finally subsiding..

"Get a tissue, love, don't sniffle like that or your pretty little nose will get all red," her mother insisted, then sighed and shook her head. "They say it's likely all that smoking your father and I did when we were younger. Such a dreadful habit, it took your father from us, you know—"

This was something Lily's mum said on a regular basis to discourage Lily and Petunia from smoking cigarettes. After watching her father die of lung cancer, Lily was not in any hurry to pick up the habit.

"Oh, darling!" Her mother suddenly exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "What on earth was that cat that came to visit me at the weekend? I've never seen anything like it! Though I suppose that must be the case with most things in your life these days."

Lily grinned. "It's called a Patronus," she explained.

"Patronus," her mother repeated, her forehead creasing as she committed the word to memory. She grinned cheekily. "That's a strange name for ghost-cat that speaks in my daughter's voice."

Lily giggled, her heart swelling with love for her mother. "They aren't always cats," she explained. "That was Professor McGonagall's. Everyone's is different, they take the shape of an animal you feel a great affinity for. They're like a guardian, when you cast it it can protect you from all sorts of nasty things. I've learned recently that they can delver messages too. I'm still learning that."

"Oh my word!" Her mother's eyes were huge, the genuine awe she held the Wizarding World never failed to amaze Lily. "A guardian? Oh, that's so lovely, dear. What animal does yours take?"

"Well," Lily ducked her head, knowing her mother would read her expression immediately. "It was a dolphin until a little while ago when it turned into... a doe."

Rose Evans picked up on her daughter's discomfort instantly. "Oh, really?" She asked lightly, a smirk curling at her lips. "I take it that's quite a significant thing, those guardians changing shapes?" She sent Lily a pointed look that clearly said 'don't you dare lie to me Lily Jane Evans!'.

"Yes," Lily admitted shyly. "The dolphin was emotional intelligence, communication..." she shut her eyes, her face turning bright red. She felt like a little girl again. "The doe may mean... that I like a boy. His Patronus is a stag."

"That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard!" Her mum gushed, one hand flying to cover her mouth as she made delighted cooing sounds. "Oh Lily-Love. What's his name?"

Lily shook her head. "It's nothing, mum. Unrequited. Nothing can come of it." She tried not to look as upset as she felt about this.

Her mother's face fell. "He doesn't feel the same way?"

You're the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on...

And then the hurt in his eyes the evening before...

"I don't want to talk about it," Lily shook her head violently. "Maybe another time but not today. So, you're okay then? The medicine is working?"

Her mother hesitated, a guilty gleam coming into her eyes as she bit her lip.

"Mum?" A shiver of fear ran through Lily. "Mum?" She demanded, feeling herself beginning to grow hysterical.

"Don't be upset, love." Her mother placated, seeing Lily getting worked up. "Last week, I had another tiny incident. It's alright, don't cry, my love. Oh, darling, I'm alright, really I am. Mrs Hinkley came to stay with me afterwards. She's such a lovely woman you know. So sad about her husband passing— Lily, Lily please don't cry."

But Lily was sobbing. "Did you even tell Petunia?" She managed to warble, and from the way her mother bit her lip she knew she hadn't. "MUM!" She cried in disbelief, "Call her! Tell her! This is your life!"

"Oh, darling, don't be so melodramatic."

Lily had spoken to her mother twice a day, every day since James gave her the mirrors. She even watched a bit of telly with her mum once, just to spend time with her.

No matter how much she argued it, her mother refused to let her leave Hogwarts to come home, pointing out that she was Head Girl and couldn't possibly throw away her education, and besides she still needed to learn how to send messages with her guardian-doe and of course she would be home for Christmas in a little over a month and wouldn't that be so lovely.

Luckily, between her mother and just about managing to complete all her school work and Head Girl duties, there was very little time to pine or lust after James, who was studiously ignoring her. Every time they passed each other in the halls he would avert his eyes and clench his jaw as though she were some filthy piece of trash. It was shocking, really. At first she'd been sad, guilty, hated that she'd hurt him even though technically he had no right to be mad. But after about forty-eight hours of this behavior it got a bit old.

James was notorious for pulling girls into broom cupboards, especially after he became Quidditch captain in fifth year. Where the hell did he get off treating Lily like she ought to be ashamed of herself for something about which he had once so eloquently claimed 'if you're not doing it there's something wrong with you'. Well! Perhaps Lily had let Kettletoft go a bit further than a snog, but she had heard plenty of stories about witches giving James various favours.

By Saturday, Lily was fuming. Whenever they caught each others' eye across the table in the Great Hall or passing through the portrait hole they would scowl pointedly at each other, their friends exchanging bewildered looks behind their backs. And Sunday, the day of the big Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff was no different, though Lily suspected Sirius was actively pointing James away from her while Mary did the same to Lily; after all, they couldn't have their wonderful Quidditch captain in a bad mood before a match.

Lily didn't want to go. Gryffindor matches always felt like some huge celebration of James Potter's epic, prodigious brilliance, like the entire school was bowing down to his greatness. It stirred up all her old feelings of resentment at his freakishly large ego and the vast arrogance that went along with it.

But Lily was Head Girl, and it wouldn't be right for her not to attend, especially when her own house was playing. So she donned her Gryffindor colours including a gold ribbon in her hair, and stared at herself long and hard in the mirror.

You did nothing wrong, she told herself. And she believed it too, but it did nothing to improve her mood.

James and Sirius were absent from the Great Hall at breakfast, but Mary and Oona Bellington, the Gryffindor Seeker, were sat together shoveling whatever carbohydrates they could find into their mouths like ravenous beasts. Just down the way, Lily could see the Beaters, Angel and Oakham chomping down on sausages and bacon.

"It's the protein," Mary explained through a mouth full of hash browns, seeing Lily watching her teammates' feasting. "Beating is about strength," she inhaled another hash brown. "Chasing and Seeking is about endurance."

"You know that's disgusting, right?" Marlene pointed out, wrinkling her nose.

Mary shrugged. "I gotta win this game, especially since Potter's all fucked up over you, Lily."

Lily's mouth fell open. "Me!" She exclaimed, indignant, though she knew it to be true.

Marlene backed her up, "What the hell did Lily do? She's been covering his Head Boy duties the last few days while you lot have been practicing night and day."

"I dunno what you did, mate." Mary held her hands up in surrender. "And I'm not saying you deserve it, but he's fucked up right now." She paused, swallowing a mouthful of food and, taking in her friends' indignant expressions, added, "We all know he's a bloody wanker though." Mary was always supportive of her friends, and got to her feet to follow Oona, Angel and Oakham out of the Great Hall. "Wish me luck, babes!" She called over her shoulder.

Once the team was gone Lily spun around to face Marlene, biting her lip and feeling guilty that she'd kept this to herself. "I snogged Kettletoft," she admitted quickly. "A lot. On Wednesday. James figured it out and lost his head."

Marlene pursed her lips, frowning for a moment and then shrugged gregariously. "So what? He's got a girlfriend!"

"They broke up yesterday," Lily corrected, wincing.

"So what!" Marlene said again. "He had a girlfriend when you were snogging Kettletoft, and he's not your bloody boyfriend. Tell him to go fuck himself!"

Lily scowled. "I should," she agreed, her mood black again. But deep inside she only wanted to apologize, though she refused to do that for the sake of Feminism if nothing else! She hadn't done anything wrong!

"Alright," Marlene stood and brushed her skirt off. "I've got to pop to the owlery to send Amelia a letter before we head down to the pitch. Join me?"

Lily agreed and walked with her friend, still complaining about James and his hypocrisy, Marlene filling her in on other bits of gossip she'd heard about James and various girls over the years to make her feel better. It sort of did. But it also made Lily terribly jealous and angry that were so many of them.

As they were passing through the Entrance Hall Lily nearly stopped in her tracks when she spotted a face she had been hoping to avoid.

Marlene made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat. "Not him," she muttered.

"Bugger." Lily groaned, as a young man with curly, sandy hair and pouty lips caught her eye across the Entrance Hall and grinned, then started to stroll in her direction. Her ex-boyfriend, Daniel Bickford-Smith, the scout from the Chudley Cannons. "Bugger, bugger, bugger," Lily repeated under her breath.

It wasn't that things had ended badly between her and Daniel. On the contrary, Lily had gotten a bit bored and was ready to end things, and luckily right around the same time Daniel had graduated. They had a chat and decided to break up for convenience, though it was Lily who had led that discussion. But the way he was grinning at her now felt a little bit more than friendly, and she had to plaster a smile on her face so as not to be rude.

"Lily!" Daniel beamed, holding his arms out for a hug.

"Hi Daniel," Lily continued to smile, her cheeks hurting as she hugged him back, surprised when he kissed her on both cheeks. She had forgotten how irritating his excessively posh he was.

"Marlene!" He held out his arms and Marlene reluctantly hugged him as well, though she didn't receive a kiss.

"Hi Daniel," she offered a pinched smile. "Nice to see you, but I've got to get to the owlery before the Quidditch." She smiled apologetically at Lily. "Save me a seat?"

"Sure," Lily agreed, narrowing her eyes mutinously though she kept the smile on her face. She turned back to Daniel. "How've you been?"

"Good!" He folded his arms smugly. "Scouting for the Cannons these days. I hear you made Head Girl!" He looked down at her badge and grinned. "I always knew you'd get it, Lils."

"Mmm Hmm," Lily agreed weakly. She wasn't sure why she felt so awkward around him. Perhaps because he was the only boy who had ever seen her naked, or maybe because the last time she'd been in the same room with him he'd cried and said he loved her, whereas Lily had never been able to say the words back to him.

Daniel's attention was caught by something behind Lily's head, and his grin widened. "Potter!" He called, waving him over.

Lily felt like her stomach was about to fall down to her feet when James reluctantly sidled up to them a few moments later, his mouth pinched. He was wearing his Quidditch gear, the goggles hanging around his neck and his broom in his hand.

"Hello, Potter," Daniel grinned, holding out a hand which James unenthusiastically shook. "Looking forward to seeing what you've got out on the pitch today, old boy" Daniel continued, apparently not noticing the tension. "If it's anything like what I remember playing against you was like, Hufflepuff will have a hell of a time!"

"Cheers," James managed to grit out, followed by a more polite but forced, "Glad you could make it down, Bickford."

"Bickford-Smith," Daniel corrected pleasantly.

Lily couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes which James definitely noticed, the tension in his jaw loosening a fraction.

"So! You're Head Boy these days?" Daniel continued, and patted Lily affectionately on the shoulder. "I suppose you're dealing with this one quite a lot."

James looked at Lily then, holding her gaze for the first time in days without scowling. "Yep," he confirmed dryly, not looking away.

Lily stared back at him stubbornly.

"I've got to get to the pitch," James said quickly, tearing his eyes away from hers. He and Daniel shook hands again. "Good to see you, Bickford... Smith," he added before turning to leave.

"See you after, Potter!" Daniel called after him. "Plenty to talk about with that arm of yours, I'm sure!"

James nodded shortly and gave them a lethargic wave over his shoulder.

Lily felt a sudden, unbearable need to get his spirits up.

"Potter!" She trotted to catch up with him and he stopped short, looking down at her with a wary frown, and Lily could understand why. They had been nothing but uncivil and callous to each other for days.

Lily hesitated, then allowed herself a reluctant smile, trying to convey... she wasn't sure what it was she was trying to convey, but she gazed up at him, not glaring or sneering but simply allowing her face to be open and positive, friendly, supportive. "Good luck, Potter," she told him.

His frown lessened somewhat, confusion taking over, then Lily rose up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

It was quick, her lips connecting with a day or so worth of stubble that made her want to linger, but she kept her head and dropped her heels back down, pleased to see that his eyes had gone wide as saucers like he couldn't quite believe she was there in front of him. It made her want to giggle but she simply nodded at him instead and stepped away.

James blinked a few times, taken a back, and then cleared his throat. "Will do, Evans," he agreed, before turning to join Mary at the entrance where they left to head down to the pitch.

James could feel Mary staring pointedly at him as they left the Entrance Hall and started towards the Quidditch pitch.

He rolled his eyes and sent her a wary look. "Something you want to say?"

"Uh, yeah." Mary stopped walking, grabbed James by the arm, blinking at him a few times. "What the bloody fuck was that?"

He hesitated, part of him wanting to tell her her best mate was a slag who went around flirting with every Quidditch captain she could get her hands on, but he knew that wasn't true or fair and Mary might kick him in the balls for it. Maybe not now but after the match, definitely.

James felt like shit. He'd felt like shit for days. Getting back to the common room to find Lily all disheveled with her lips swollen and her clothes a mess, his first instinct had been something along the lines of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her up to his room to shag her rotten for hours. And then maybe he'd just lock her in his room and spend the rest of his life giving her multiple orgasms. That sounded reasonable.

Then he'd realized, someone else had done this disheveling to her, someone else had been snogging her swollen lips and messing with her clothes, and a fierce, carnal jealousy the likes of which he'd never felt before raged right through him. He wanted to scream and he wanted to break things, and he knew it was Kettle-tosser because who the hell else would it have been?

He didn't care why, and he didn't care how, all James knew was he was more furious than he'd ever been in his life and the only person he could take it out on was Lily.

It wasn't fair, he knew that too. He was a terrible hypocrite, as all of his mates pointed out, not least because he had a girlfriend, but also because James had been in many a broom cupboard with many a witch in his time. Even Sirius, who backed him up in nearly everything no matter how unreasonable, seemed to think he was being a cock over this.

But James couldn't help it. And he knew exactly why. Despite Lilibeth, he and Lily had grown close over the past months, and not just as 'friends' regardless of how they labeled it. He hadn't imagined it was possible to be any more infatuated with her than he already was, but fucking hell, it seemed to have happened anyway. She was kind and supportive, she believed in him and trusted him, she laughed at his jokes like she couldn't believe someone could come up with something so clever, and he could tell she fancied him. It was fantastic. It had been difficult navigating their relationship, there was no doubt in that, but even when they were being stupid (which he could admit, he was being now) it felt like there was something there.

But she'd run off with Kettle-tosser anyway!

"Potter?" Mary pressed, her voice stern, almost scolding. "As your friend, and as Lily's, tell me what the fuck is going on."

James groaned, annoyed. He didn't have time to think about Lily with the Quidditch on. Quidditch was the only thing keeping him going at the moment. "Not now, Mary," he pleaded. "Let's win this fucking match then we can have all the heart-to-bloody-hearts you want."

Mary didn't seem to hear him, narrowing her eyes staring at him like he was the biggest idiot she'd ever met. "Potter... James... she clearly likes you." James winced. "You've liked her for years. James, her bloody Patronus changed into a doe and a three hundred year old psychic witch told her her destiny had something to do with a stag."

James turned sharply to his teammate, wondering is she'd gone mad.

"Didn't Peter tell you?" Mary frowned. "The seance, Cassandra the seer, Sylvia got possessed? No?"

"No," James confirmed, shaking his head. "Look, I appreciate your concern, but we have to go win this fucking match. There's no sodding way I'm letting Kettle-tosser get recruited to England by that fucking Bickford-Cunt." With that he stormed past Mary towards the pitch, leaving her staring after him in shock for a few seconds before hurrying to catch up.

Mercifully, Mary let the subject of Lily drop, instead she started on about the plays they'd decided to try out during the match. James could have kissed her for it, and they engaged in a heated discussion about which Hufflepuff chasers would be the easiest to distract if they got their Beaters in position in time.

By the time they reached the Gryffindor changing rooms, most of the tension in James' shoulders had drained and he didn't feel quite so much like punching whoever got in his way. Mary joined Bellington in the girls' locker room while James joined the rest of his team to warm up and get on with their pre-match rituals, which included Hussein giving himself an aggressive pep talk in the mirror, Angel and Oakham warming up their arms and discussing Beater plays, and Sirius lounging on a bench reading the Daily Prophet.

When he spotted James, Sirius opened his mouth, probably to recount something horrendous from the paper so James held his hand up. "After we win," he insisted, sinking into a lunge to start warming up. Sirius chuckled and went back to his paper.

"Alright there, Potter?"

James switched to his other leg, looking up to find a rather short bloke, probably in his late twenties, with dark, elaborately styled hair watching him intently.

"Can I help you?" James asked coldly.

"Benjy Fenwick," the bloke introduced himself, holding out a hand. "Here to scout for England," he added with a wink.

James exchanged a look with Sirius before getting up to shake Fenwick's hand. He felt like he was doing a lot of that today when he had other, more important things to focus on.

"Good to meet you," he said shortly, turning away almost immediately to return to his stretching. "Hope you enjoy the match."

Fenwick didn't seem surprised by James' rudeness. "I hear you're quite good with a Quaffle, Potter," he paused for a moment, smirking slyly. "And shaking off Imperious Curses."

James whipped around at that, and Sirius was on his feet beside him with his wand out in seconds.

"Who are you?" Sirius demanded in a low voice.

"Just a scout for England, and a fan," Fenwick shrugged easily. "Of you two... and Albus Dumbledore."

James and Sirius exchanged another look, another of their silent conversations passing between them.

Who the fuck is this?

He's a cocky arsehole.

Sounds like he knows about the Order.

Definitely knows about the Order.

"We'll talk later," Fenwick continued smugly, sending each of them a significant look as he moved to leave. "You boys have a match to win."

When Fenwick was out of sight James clapped both hands over his eyes, his mind racing.

"Alright mate?" Sirius frowned and patted James on the back.

James sighed miserably. "I need to fly."

The Gryffindor stands were so packed that by the time Lily managed to get to the pitch she wouldn't have had anywhere to sit had Marlene and Sylvia not saved her a place. Everywhere you looked was scarlet and gold, even some Ravenclaws showing their support for the Gryffindor team over Hufflepuff. Of course, Slytherin sided with Hufflepuff, no matter how much they looked down on the house, they hated Gryffindor more.

Someone started a chant as Lily took her seat beside Marlene, both bundled up in their winter cloaks (charmed scarlet on this occasion), mittens and hats to ward off the cold winter chill. It had snowed the night before and the stands had to be warmed up so students wouldn't freeze their arses off.

Though she'd been reluctant to attend, Lily was glad she had in the end. There was something terrifically uplifting about joining in house pride that brought up her spirits exponentially. She grinned sideways at Marlene, about to tell her she was looking forward to the match when she saw Marlene's face; a miserable pout, like someone had just killed her cat. She lifted a flask to her lips and took a long sip of what smelled like potent alcohol.

Lily's eyes widened: Marlene was one of the least moody people she knew; acerbic and sarcastic, yes, but not easily ruffled. She took another drink from her flask and turned to look at Lily.

"Hiya," she said dryly, forcing a smile that was more of a grimace. She held up the flask. "Firewhisky?"

"Mar, what's wrong?" Lily frowned, laying a concerned hand on her friend's shoulder.

Marlene dug into her cloak and pulled out a letter, waving it lethargically. "Amelia got promoted again. Senior Wizengamot Aid this time." Her expression grew even more sour as she said this.

Lily blinked a few times, not sure what to say and no idea how her girlfriend being promoted could throw Marlene into such a depressive tail spin.

"Well... isn't that good?"

Marlene snorted and took another swig from her flask; Lily could tell she was already a bit tipsy. "Have you heard what's going on at the Ministry lately, Lily?" She turned to stare at the pitch though she didn't appear to be seeing anything, just gazing into the distance.

Lily's eyes grew wide, the idea of Amelia Bones being affiliated with the Death Eaters too bizarre for her to fully comprehend. "You don't think she..." Lily trailed off when Marlene closed her eyes and shook her head 'no'.

"It's not that," she said miserably. "She won't tell me, but I think it's worse."

"Worse than... being a..." Lily couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. In her mind's eye she pictured the rather stuffy but sweet Amelia, with her monocle and her old-fashioned maroon lipstick. More than a few times Lily had caught her watching Marlene with a dazed sort of look, like she'd never seen anything so wonderful in all her life.

Marlene just made a painful sound and turned to look at Lily square in the eye. "I'm scared for her Lily. This war is scaring me."

Before Lily had a chance to respond a rather short fellow with dark, elaborately coiffed hair that reminded Lily of a 1940s film star squeezed in to sit on Lily's other side.

She frowned at him, disliking his rudeness and his pretentious hair immediately.

"Lily Evans, right?" He smirked like he knew a secret as he held out his hand to her.

"Yeah," Lily said slowly, accepting his hand warily. "Who are you?"

"Benjy Fenwick," he drawled, turning to towards the pitch, his smirk staying firmly place. "This should be an excellent match."

Lily narrowed her eyes, trying to place him or work out how he knew her. She was just about to ask when the crowd began to roar and the Hufflepuff team soared onto the field in a diamond formation, Kettletoft in the lead. The latest Quidditch commentator (who just happened to be in Gryffindor) Bertrum Aubrey's magically magnified voice encouraged the cheering. In fifth year he'd been less than kind in his commentary of Gryffindor due to a feud with James and Sirius, but after an incident where his was head blown up five times the size of his body he'd been more enthusiastic in his praise for his home team.

"Lets hear it for Hufflepuff!" He called out, and the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins cheered their approval.

"Chasing for Hufflepuff today we have... Aurora Abbott...! Eddie Macmillan...! And Muki Yamazaki...!" The crowd went wild as the three chasers circled the pitch and took their places.

"Beating those Bludgers we have... Joshua Finch and his lovely lady... Joanna Fletchley!" Everyone cheered except Finch and Fletchley, who were currently broken up and glaring hard at Aubrey as they took their positions.

"Seeking today! The latest addition to the Hufflepuff team, playing his first ever match today... the one... the only... Azazel Smith!" The cheering was noticeably less enthusiastic as an unknown second year zoomed onto the pitch. Lily noticed he was quite a bit faster than his teammates and clapped her hands a bit harder for the younger boy.

"And finally!" Aubrey cried, "The heartbreaking Keeper with a face like a Galleon, the Hufflepuff captain... AIDEN KETTLETOFT!"

Kettletoft got significantly more applause than the rest of teammates. He waved and grinned charmingly at the crowd, circling the pitch twice before taking his place in front of the goal hoops. Lily didn't bother to clap for him, instead glancing at Marlene who was clapping lazily but had at least put away her flask.

Aubrey waited for the applause to die down before he introduced the Gryffindor team. The stadium was nearly silent with anticipation, the Gryffindor team holding back as the suspense built.

"And now..." Aubrey paused dramatically, "With four Quidditch Cups in a row under their belts, the reigning champions... GRYFFINDOR!"

Lily couldn't help it, she jumped to her feet with the rest of the crowd, clapping and cheering wildly as the Gryffindor team flew onto the field. Nearby Lily spotted McGonagall standing and clapping heartily, her mouth set as if she was trying to maintain her composure.

"Beating today! Those Bludger-loving-beasts.. ION OAKHAM AND ARCHIBALD ANGEL!"

The cheering intensified as the two burly Beaters circled the pitch, weaving between each other in a rather stylish formation though they both had their heads down and very serious expressions on their faces.

"Keeping those Quaffles out today...! That beautiful Black who makes the ladies swoon... SIRIUS BLACK!"

Even though the crowd screamed to almost deafening levels, Sirius flew straight to the goal posts, not bothering with his usual loop-da-loops or fancy moves, he just pulled up short and rubbed his hands together, ready to play.

"Seeking for Gryffindor... next year's captain, the beautiful, the fierce... OONA BELLINGTON!"

The cheering continued to be deafening, but Oona also headed straight for her place without circling the pitch or waving like she might normally have done.

"Ladies and gentlemen... Chasing down those Quaffles... SALAAM HUSSEIN!"

Hussein tore around the field like a bat out of hell, banging his fists on his chest like an ape and roaring at the heavens like a feral animal. It worked though, the crowd went mental, even those not cheering for Gryffindor had to admit it was a pretty spectacular entrance and clapped appreciatively.

"Next up we have a Chaser with an arm like a Beater's bat, the body of a goddess and my future wife... MARY MACDONALD!"

Mary flew onto the pitch trying to look like she didn't enjoy her introduction. She did a circle around the pitch and made a rude gesture at Aubrey as she passed him, mouthing what looked like, "NO WAY MOTHERFUCKER!" Which got her a huge laugh and a giant cheer from the crowd, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin alike.

"And finally..." Aubrey delivered this introduction with another dramatic pause. "The pride of Gryffindor... Quidditch captain and your Head Boy... JAMES POTTER!"

The stands went fully insane when Aubrey screamed James' name, a deafening roar that could have been heard in Glasgow. Lily found herself hopping up and down, screaming and whooping along with her fellow Gryffindors. Mary had been right about how James flew, even when he wasn't trying to be cocky and impressive like he had in his younger years. It was more like watching a bird than a wizard on a broom. He was elegant, graceful even and Lily couldn't look away.

A quick glance at Marlene told her she'd forgotten Amelia's letter long enough to get her head into the game, she was pumping her fists in the air and shouting Mary's name. On Lily's left, Benjy Fenwick was clapping smugly while he watched James do a quick loop and wave once at the crowd.

Lily looked towards where James had waved and wasn't surprised to see Professor McGonagall had now given up on keeping her composure and was shouting enthusiastically, but beside her stood Dumbledore, clapping politely as he watched James fly elegantly into position with a small smile on his face. It was something of a shock to see the Headmaster there, blending in natural as anything seen as he had been gone from school grounds more often than not over the term.

Lily paused in her clapping to stare at the Headmaster, frowning, and after a second or two he turned to meet her gaze, and winked before turning back to the match.

James' mood had lifted considerably after beating the hell out of Kettle-tosser and Hufflepuff. They'd scored a few goals, sure, but 530 to 40 was a fantastic go. Finch and Fletchley had been off their Beater game, frequently stopping to argue right in the middle of a play. James was glad Mary and Sirius had never gotten more serious, he would have inevitably had to kick one of them off the team to avoid a mid-match couples' spat.

Bellington was a vastly superior Seeker to the second year Kettle-tosser had decided to pick up. He could kiss her for giving them enough time to score an unseemly number of goals before she tracked down the Snitch. When the team landed on the snow-laden pitch to celebrate and hug each other in their victory, she had marched up to James, her face a reverent, stoic mask, and held out the Snitch as if passing on some significant ornamental totem. James accepted the Snitch with a grin then grabbed her around the neck, giving his seeker an affectionate squeeze and a noogie until she finally cracked a smile.

Ah, it was wonderful. Hufflepuff's Chasers were good, but they weren't as good as James, Mary and Hussein. Over the course of an hour they'd scored 41 goals against Hufflepuff, and every time Kettle-tosser let a Quaffle in James felt a deeply satisfying kind of serenity come over him. It just about made him forget about Lily, her mum, Fenwick, Dumbledore, the Order, Bellatrix, Death Eaters, Regulus, his own parents, his role as Head Boy, and the five people who had been murdered on his watch.

No, there was only Quidditch. And James was fucking brilliant at Quidditch.

Besides all that, Hell would freeze over before Kettle-tosser got recruited to England or the Cannons based on that performance—even though the England scout did appear to have ulterior motives for being at Hogwarts.

James lounged on a bench in the Gryffindor changing rooms, freshly showered with a towel around his hips, staring up at the ceiling as he relieved the game. The others were passing around a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky while they changed into fresh clothes, chattering happily and complimenting one another on their plays. Everyone was in a brilliant mood, Hussein even enthusiastically showing off a Muggle dance he called 'The Electric Slide' that had Sirius doubled over in laughter.

"Come on Prongsssss," Sirius tossed James' shirt at him. "Get the fuck dressed, we have a victory party to attend!"

"Alright, alright," James muttered, pulling the shirt over his head. He was in a good mood too. He just didn't feel like doing the Electric Slide, more enjoying this brief respite from reality where life was as easy as training hard and winning because you put the work in.

Sirius lounged about, waiting for James while the others headed back to the common room. Just as James was threading his belt through his jeans, Benjy Fenwick came strolling into the changing room, smirking like he owned the place.

"Well, well, well," he looked at James appraisingly. "That was genuinely brilliant, Potter."

James rolled his eyes and tugged on his jumper.

"Look, mate," Sirius stepped in front of James, crossing his arms. "We're bored of the games, what the fuck is it you want 'cause we get the sense its not about signing James to England."

Fenwick laughed lightly at that and nodded. "Fair enough. I do scout for England, and if we weren't in the middle of a war, Potter, I'd sign you in an instant. But we can worry about the Quidditch World Cup once we've defeated the Dark Lord. Oddly enough, I don't reckon he's that interested in sport."

James and Sirius exchanged a look, both clearly thinking the same thing: finally, someone straight forward.

"Alright," James crossed his arms and looked Fenwick up and down. "You said you're a fan of Dumbledore's." He raised one eyebrow, the question of what the fuck he meant by that implicit.

"I've been sent by Mad-Eye Moody," Fenwick said, finally turning serious, the smirk slipping off his face. "You've heard of the Department of Mysteries? You know who works there?"

"Unspeakables," James replied coldly. "Officially no one knows anything about it... part of the job is not speaking about it."

"Indeed," Fenwick agreed. "Apt description if you ask me. Anyway, what is known is these are the chaps who communicate with the dementors of Azkaban. And we have recently learned the Dark Lord has infiltrated the Department of Mysteries." He paused, his mouth hardening into a thin line. "Any idea what that might mean?"

Sirius answered first. "It means we're fucked," he suggested darkly.

"Well," Fenwick shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Maybe, maybe not. We have a few names we're checking out. Moody wanted me to give you this." He pulled a folded up piece of parchment from his trouser pocket and passed it to Sirius. "Invisible ink. Look at those names, Black. Have a think if they mean anything to you—anyone who might associate with your cousins or any of the rest of your dodgy extended family. Got it?"

Sirius blinked hard and fast at that, and James could tell he'd never have thought being a Black would actually be any help to their cause. "Got it," Sirius nodded.

Fenwick turned to James then. "Dementors are currently our biggest concern," he explained. "Second biggest concern is how many wizards in the Ministry are under the Imperious Curse. That's where you come in."

James eyebrows lifted in surprise. "How the hell do I come into that?"

"You fought off the Imperious Curse," Fenwick said mildly, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Do you have any idea how rare that is?"

"Really fucking rare," Sirius spoke up, and James shot him a dirty look.

Fenwick nodded. "He's right," he told James. "Don't try to be modest, that's no good to us. We need answers, not humility, got it?"

James nodded silently, his mind winding through various ways the night at the Prewett farm could be any help to the Order. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just have a think, anything you can remember, anything you felt or thought about. Anything at all, really." Fenwick shrugged, and glanced sideways at Sirius. "Black, I want you to put Potter under the Imperious Curse. See if he can break it again. Give it a fiddle, see what happens."

Sirius paled at that. "But..."

"It's illegal, I know," Fenwick waved him off as if this was an unimportant side note. "I'm not asking you to torture your best mate, just test him We're at war, Black. Got it?"

Sirius nodded, looking to James for some kind of reassurance but James was staring at the floor, relieving Bellatrix's voice purring in his ear, commanding him to kill Sirius slowly, painfully, cruelly...

"Anything else?" Sirius asked dryly.

"Yeah," Fenwick smirked, the cocky arsehole attitude back once more. "Don't worry about this tonight. Go celebrate that brilliant victory. Get drunk, get your dicks sucked, be young. You won't have much time for that with this war soon enough, and that's what we're fighting for after all. Our way of life."

"He's right," Sirius nodded, looking at James. "Let's get pissed and snog some birds, eh?"

Fenwick smirked and nodded. "That's what I like to hear, boys. I'll be in touch."

James decided to follow Fenwick's advice and get absolutely blotted.

By the time he and Sirius got back to Gryffindor Tower the victory party had been raging for a good hour or so, and most people from fourth year up were well on the way to being pissed. Someone had set up a Muggle gramophone playing some sort of pop music that almost drowned out the excited chatter and Zonko's products were going off every twenty seconds.

Sirius grinned knowingly over his shoulder at James as they stepped through the portrait hole, and seconds later there was a glorious roar of cheers and applause followed by a chant of, "POTTER, POTTER, POTTER!" To which James simply smirked and shrugged while Sirius thumped him on the back.

Hussein skidded on his knees up to James and Sirius, a full bottle of Firewhisky in hand. "To the conquering heroes!" He shouted, then bowed his head, offering up the Firewhisky like a sacred relic.

Everyone screamed with laughter and cheered and James set about getting himself good and drunk while people shook his hand and congratulated him on a match well won. After a few drinks, and a few pretty fifth and sixth year witches batting their eyelashes at him and stroking his arm, James felt himself begin to relax. Fenwick was right, he decided as he knocked back another shot of Firewhisky then tugged at a strand of Dottie Creevey's blonde hair, telling her he didn't believe it was real no matter what she said. A wink and a smirk and she was putty in his hands.

"Oh, Merlin," Peter swayed up to James with Remus on his heels. James loved how Pete got overly enthusiastic when he was pissed. "Mary said she told you about Cassandra!"

James squinted at him and chuckled, releasing Dottie's hair and forgetting about her completely. "What are you on about, Pete?"

"Who's Cassandra?" Sirius looked around, "Is she fit?"

"The seance," Peter elaborated, as if this was obvious. "With the candles and the salt. Sylvia's Nan who possessed her."

"Obviously," Remus snickered, taking a swig from a bottle of meade.

"You drinking meade, Moony?!" Sirius scoffed in disgust and grabbed the bottle, taking a large gulp and making a face. "You nonce!"

Remus rolled his eyes, snatching the bottle back. "I know my limits, Padfoot," he smirked eviliy. "Remember that time you had too much Firewhisky with Georgiana Dawkins and you couldn't get it..."

"Yes, thank you Moony!" Sirius exclaimed, scandalized that his mate would bring up such a humiliating event publicly while James and Peter collapsed into helpless laughter. "Wormy, tell us more about this seance," Sirius demanded, trying to distract them.

Managing to contain his giggles, Peter held up both of his hands, palms facing out and made his eyes wide like he'd seen a ghost."A scar..." he whispered in an affected, mystical voice that sent the Marauders into another round of belly laughs. "A son... a stag... I swear that's what she said!"

"What the fuck, Wormy," Sirius sputtered, wiping tears from his eyes.

Peter dropped the pretense and threw his arms up in exasperation. "A stag, a bloody stag. JAMES is a stag!"

"We know, Peter," Remus snickered into his meade. "We're there... every month!"

"No, listen," Peter dropped his arms, his face turning somewhat serious as he focused his attention on a chuckling James. "She said this to Lily. She said it was her destiny, Prongs."

James rolled his eyes. "A witch possessed Sylvia and told her I'm Lily's destiny? Is that what you're saying, Pete?"

Peter wrinkled his nose. "Not quite, but all her friends think she fancies you. I do to. She went so red, Prongs."

"She was asking me about you the other day, too," Remus added sagely. "Could be something there, mate."

"Ah well," James shrugged it off - he didn't want to think about Lily in any capacity, fancying him or otherwise. "She's not even here."

"She is," Remus pointed across the room and James quickly turned to get a look at her like the pathetic lovesick puppy he knew himself to be. She was laughing with Mary and Bertram Aubrey, Mary recounting some story with gregarious hand gestures and dramatic facial expression. Lily had a gold ribbon holding her hair out of her face and she wore a pretty scarlet skirt with woolly stockings and blouse she'd charmed gold, though it was wearing off to white again. Her eyes were glittering as she laughed along with Mary and Bertram.

James looked away quickly and snatched Remus' meade out of his hands, taking a healthy swallow.

"I'm not starting anything with her," he declared, feeling especially convinced this was the right thing to do in his inebriated state despite his mates' bewildered and disapproving looks

"But this is what you've always wanted!" Peter cried, almost heartbroken. "And it's your destiny! The psychic witch said so!"

Remus crumpled into laughter at that but James continued to shake his head.

"Mates," he said stoically. "Bloody dementors might be on the lose, bloody Ministry of Magic is fucked, people dying everywhere and all it took was Lily snogging Kettle-tosser to turn me into a poncy little twat."

Sirius had grown distracted during James' speech by something over his shoulder. "And on that note, I have a Creevey sister to find." He slipped out of their circle and sidled up to Dottie Creevey, tugging on her blonde hair just as James had done twenty minutes earlier.

Marlene stumbled directly into the space Sirius had just vacated, swaying drunkenly, her eyes rolling, pissed out of her mind. "Ooight boyzzz," she greeted them unhappily before slapping James on the back. "Nizz one, Potter. You fly like a fuckin... a fuckin..." She tipped backwards, straight into an overstuffed armchair and passed out immediately, a half-empty bottle of firewhisky rolling out of her hand and onto the floor.

James decided to stick with the Remus' more steady meade drinking habits after that.

An hour or so later and the party had gotten more debauched. Mary and Bertram were snogging in a corner, as were many other couples. The first, second and third years had been chased off to bed by Lily and Remus so they wouldn't see anything untoward. Sirius and Dottie disappeared completely, making James think his mate was taking Fenwick's advice literally.

Dottie's sister Helena approached James next, touching his arm and laughing at his jokes and all the usual things girls do when they want attention. James decided to do the magnanimous thing, and pushed her off on Remus, claiming his friend was working on a potion that would make him millions of Galleons. AND! He had even turned down the Head Boy spot so he could focus on on the miracle potion.

Remus glared at James, but once he had Helena's attention he managed to navigate around the lie and asked if she was still writing her student column for Witch Weekly, which seemed to startle her after her rather dignity-free conversation with James. Remus and Helena went off, leaving Peter and James to discuss their plans for the next full moon, perhaps slightly louder than was a good idea but everyone was pissed or snogging - who would be listening or care?

Peter gasped dramatically, turning his bottle of Firewhisky upside-down as he tried to shake the last drops into his mouth. "I'm out of drink!" He groaned, aghast. "How!"

"You're drunk as a fucking skunk, Wormy," James chuckled affectionately, "That's why."

Peter put his head on James shoulder. "Does that mean the party's over?" He sighed morosely, his mouth bending into a disappointed pout.

James chuckled and patted Peter's wispy blonde head. "Is there still meade and Firewhisky under Sirius' bed?"

"YES!" Peter's eyes lit up and James grinned, amused.

"Then the party's not over, Wormy," he grinned, directing Peter into an overstuffed armchair beside the one Marlene was snoring in. "I'll sort you out, mate."

James headed for his old room, encountering numerous drunk Gryffindors determined to congratulate him and shake his hand on his way up the spiral staircase. All of it made him feel a bit... empty, if he was honest. Maybe it was the meade, or maybe it was Fenwick asking him to re-think his encounter with Bellatrix, or maybe it was a lack of Lily in his life—shouting at him or laughing with him, he would take either—but whatever it was, James knew he wasn't the same person he'd been at the Gryffindor victory party exactly one year earlier. He felt... beyond it.

When James reached his old room he nearly ran right into Lily as she was leaving with two bottles of Meade tucked under her arm.

"Potter!" She looked surprised, slightly stunned, and, maybe pleased to see him. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks rosy with revelry. "Very good job today," she congratulated him and held out one of the bottles of Meade, grinning. "May I buy you a drink?"

James immediately forgot about Peter's Firewhisky and his dreary musings at the sight of a slightly drunk, giggly Lily Evans beaming at him.

"Are you pissed, Evans?" He accused, smirking and accepting the bottle of meade, their conflicts and complications forgotten thanks to the power of alcohol.

"Maybe," she giggled again and backed into the flagstone wall behind her, then slid down until she was sat on the scarlet carpet. She patted the floor beside her, asking him to join her and James happily did, sliding down the wall so he was less than a foot away from her. She didn't seem to mind the proximity.

"I'm supposed to bring this down to Marlene," she admitted, biting her lip and examining the meade. "But I think she'd had a bit much."

James snorted with laughter but tried to hide it with a grimace. "She and Pete are both passed out in front of the fire," he informed her.

Lily humphed indignantly. "She's been at it all bloody day," she rolled her eyes and pouted. "Who brings a flask to a Quidditch game?"

"Sirius," James smirked, and when Lily shut her eyes and laughed at his lame joke he felt his smirk grow into an idiotic grin, simply watching her giggle. "What's wrong with her then?"

"Oh, girl problems," Lily sighed and then sent him a pointed look. "Like, actual girlfriend problems. It's something to do with Amelia. I don't know, her brother was sacked, her other brother moved to bloody America. And now something is going on with Amelia. I just know it," Lily's rant had gone from playful to genuinely concerned rather quickly and the grin dropped off James' face as he listened. "After Hogsmeade Mar was... in a state. And every time she gets a letter from Amelia she looks so down but she won't tell me why— I don't even know if she knows why."

"She doesn't know why she's upset?" James frowned, wondering how much Marlene actually knew...

"No," Lily furrowed her brow. It was adorable. "Whatever it is, Mar doesn't know. She just knows it's bad."

She looked up at him then, her green eyes wide and full of feeling—concern and affection for her friend, uncertainty about the state of the world, trust that James would listen to her and care.

The meade had loosened James' tongue enough that he very nearly let himself spill the truth— or at least the part of the truth that he knew. But you didn't get to be in a secret order and then go around telling girls the secrets just because they were looking up at you with big, glittery, green eyes. Instead he asked another question that had been lingering in his mind.

He hummed thoughtfully and Lily cocked her head to the side curiously, a crooked smile settling on her lips as she waited for him to speak.

"Do you ever think it's a bit odd," James asked slowly, aware that what he was about to say could be construed as offensive. "That Marlene, you know, she likes girls?"

Lily sent him a pointed look, but James only responded with a curious shrug so she sighed and appeared to take a moment to think.

"Well," she started hesitantly. "She thought there was something wrong with her because she never fancied boys and didn't really know why. I said it didn't have to be something wrong, just different but, well, we were fourteen, you can imagine it worried her." Lily paused then, and bit her lip, trying to hide a grin. "But then she snogged Elsa Clarence and it all made sense."

James eyes widened at this information. "Elsa Clarence was Marlene's first snog?" He demanded incredulously.

"Yeah," Lily giggled, taking in his expression. "Why, was she yours too?"

James snorted and looked up at the ceiling, "Ah, not quite... a snog..." he admitted, feeling his face grow warm.

Lily gasped, intrigued. "No! Your first shag?"

"Er," James bit his lip and reluctantly returned his gaze to Lily, not quite able to believe he was discussing this with her. "Somewhere between the two," he admitted

Lily's mouth fell open, her eyes huge and scandalized though she was still grinning. "James Potter!" She exclaimed, laughing.

James couldn't remember the last time he'd blushed, but he was certainly doing it now. He shrugged sheepishly and glanced sideways at Lily, she was doing a poor job hiding her giggles, her eyes warm and affectionate as she grinned at him. He didn't know how long they sat there like that for, tipsy and grinning at one another like fools, but eventually Lily shook her hair out of her eyes and sat up straight.

"Do you want to hear the rest of Marlene's story?"

James wanted to say, 'no, shut up so I can stare at you some more', but he nodded politely instead.

"Well," Lily carried on conversationally, "Then Mar and Amelia started studying together and the next thing I know she's all giddy and in love and, well," Lily blushed here and James found himself leaning closer while she spoke to the ceiling. "Let's just say Amelia introduced Mar to something she is... particularly fond of and that sealed the deal."

James stared at Lily while she stared at the ceiling. He felt like he'd been petrified, unable to look away from Lily's blushing, giggling, beautiful face, and she must have known his mind had gone straight to the gutter with that comment. But instead of thinking of Marlene and Amelia together, James' brain went straight to Lily.

From the moment James learned that was something you could do to a girl, he had wanted to do it to Lily.

"Wow," he managed to say, immediately mortified by how strangled his voice sounded. But this wasn't just some witch he was having a naughty conversation with; this was Lily.

She chuckled at him, her expression softening. "So you're not mad at me anymore?"

"I wasn't mad," James admitted quietly - his mouth was moving before his brain had time to decide on what to say. "Just jealous."

Lily's eyes widened and her lips curved up in pleased surprise, and James felt a sudden and intense need to touch her. His hand rose of its own accord and settled on her thigh, just above her stockings, his thumb stroking the edge of her wool skirt. He watched, enraptured, as her breath caught, but instead of pushing him away she turned to look at him curiously, as if mystified that he would have any interest in being close to her.

Before he could blink, Lily took the brave plunge and leaned forward, her eyes slipping shut as she pressed her lips firmly to his.

James could only stare down his nose at her, going cross-eyed as the enormity of what was happening struck him like a brick wall. When she drew his bottom lip between hers, James' eyes closed and he gave into the intense craving he's always harbored for Lily, kissing her back. Her lips tasted like caramel and meade. Especially meade. Quite a lot of meade. So when she moved her mouth to deepen the kiss James forced himself to pull away, releasing a kind of anguished groan as he sat back.

Life was instantly less worth living without Lily's lips on his. But the last thing James wanted was Lily angry at him for snogging her when she was drunk.

He yanked his hand away from her skirt and climbed to his feet, trying to recover his wits before he did something foolish like attack her on the carpet of the dormitory hallway. What was happening in his trousers was taking over his capacity for rational thought, and he needed to be away from her before he did something fatally stupid. Swallowing heavily then clearing his throat, James took a few hasty steps backwards until he collided with flagstone and could go no further.

Lily frowned up at him; she looked hurt and embarrassed, her jaw working as she moved from embarrassed to angry. James had seen this in girls before. Rejection did not blend well with alcohol.

"Lily..." he started hesitantly but she was standing up, shaking her hair out of her face and narrowing her eyes.

"What happened to you last summer?" She demanded abruptly, planting her fists on her hips.

"What?" He blurted out, bewildered by the direction she'd gone.

"You heard me," Lily replied, sassy and imperious. "You and your secrets." She glared, her eyes glittering with fury. "Gideon Prewett says his Auror friends are fighting the the Dark Lord on a freelance basis. What do you have do with that, huh?"

James could think of nothing to say in response to this, too confused and taken aback to come up with anything reasonable.

"And Peter told me about Sirius and his psychopath cousin," she flung her arm up in a short, frustrated gesture, still glaring at him.

"What!" James blurted again, his face growing warm as he recalled Peter admitting she'd tried to trick him into telling her about their summer. "What the fuck did Pete say?" He demanded, his voice rising.

"That she's insane!" Lily shouted, matching him. "And you and Sirius made up after she tried to kill him! And I know there's more to it, Potter!"

James was going to kill Peter.

"And you," she sneered and waved at him, up and down from head to toe. "Look at you! You look like you've—well—I don't know what but something is wrong. I can tell." She ended on a slightly quieter note, frowning, more concerned than angry like she'd forgotten her rage in her rant.

Before James could come up with something to reply to this very accurate accusation she had made an angry sound and pushed past him, stomping away with all the wrath of a woman scorned. James watched her go, confused and sad and desperately wishing she was sober so he could tell her.

A/N: Shout out to LeoFTW for poking me to get this posted,

I love writing Lily's mum. I've based her off my Gran and some of my Great Aunts who lived through the war and had this sort of, sweet, stiff upper lip, selfless, old-fashioned love that I could so see Petunia and Lily coming from.

If you don't know what the Electric Slide is, google that now.

This chapter was brought to you by Banks and Florence + The Machine.

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