TENDER FIRE

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

You show up like a hurricane, all hungry-eyed and weather-stained.
The clock forgets to tick and I the same.

-A Fine Frenzy

Somewhere in the south of France, a group of bikini-clad young women gathered on a beach as the sun went down on a late August evening. The ocean crashed behind them as the sun began to set, and their girlish shouts rose over the sound of the waves. At the center of all of this feminine attention was a gorgeous girl with red hair, prominent among the blonde and brown heads, her locks wavy from the seawater and shining in the gentle maritime wind blowing off the water. She was smiling as she and her friends chattered away in French.

No one around them knew it, but these elegant young ladies, looking like they just came out of a glossy beauty magazine, were witches.

"Oh Lily, ma chérie, I cannot believe you're not staying at Beauxbatons for your seventh year!" pouted a tall, slender girl with platinum blonde hair. "It simply will not be the same without you!"

"You'll get on without me, Céline," Lily Evans grinned at her model-like best friend. "Although I'm worried that those silly British boys in Hogwarts might think I'm easy because of where I'm from. They have these jokes about French prostitutes, you know."

"Ha!" Céline snorted. "We French girls are far too classy for the likes of them. I don't know how you plan on dealing with them for an entire year!"

Lily Evans was a witch. She was born to Muggle parents with an extraordinary gift for magic. She had moved to Paris when she was eight years old for her father's new job. He and his wife were fluent in French, but his daughters, Lily and Petunia, could only speak broken fragments of it. The sisters were bullied by their snooty peers who looked down on them for their poor French and English mannerisms, and they were rejected. Even when they achieved fluency, their classmates still viewed them as outcasts.

Just when she was wondering if she would ever be accepted in France, she received a letter, delivered by an elegant dove, from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in Marseilles. Her parents were overjoyed by the discovery of their daughter's true talent, and she was enrolled immediately and given everything she needed to study magic.

It was during her first year at Beauxbatons, all those years ago, that she finally found a place, helped out by her first friend, Céline Girard. Not only that, she was popular. The students at Beauxbatons accepted her as their equal and did not even notice that French was her second language until she told them; she had managed to learn French completely and to speak like a true Parisienne. Now, after all of her years spent in France, she was finally returning to Britain for yet another one of her father's job transfers.

"You're forgetting that I was born a Brit," Lily giggled, lightly smacking her best friend's arm.

"Yes, but you're French now," Céline declared with a dismissive wave of her thin, pale hand. "You've lived in Paris for over half of your life. You're one of us."

A petite brunette piped up, "Promise to bring back some handsome English lads, Lily? I'm sick of the Beauxbatons boys. They're all so droll."

"I'll try Elise, but I can't guarantee they're any good, Elise," Lily chortled.

"All I want is tall, dark, and handsome," Elise sighed. "And a change of scenery. Are you sure I can't go to Britain for you?"

"Hogwarts is in Scotland, my dear," Céline said with a snort. "You'd freeze to death there before you can find any decent men in that country." She turned to Lily again. "Why do you even have to leave Beauxbatons anyway? It's a boarding school! You don't have to transfer out!"

Lily grimaced. She must have explained this to the blonde at least five times. "My parents want me to stay in the same country as them, remember? They don't want me going to school so far away from England."

Céline wrinkled her elegant French nose, tugging at her designer bikini top and dusting tiny grains of sand off of it. "Yes, but, that crazy man trying to take over the world, what is it that they call him…Voldemort…he's from England. Wouldn't you just be safer in France?"

"They say Hogwarts is the safest place in the world," Lily said dubiously. "I tried arguing with them about it, but it didn't work. Trust me, if there were anything I could do to stay at Beauxbatons, I would do it." Lily stared off sadly. She had no desire to leave behind the only friends she had ever truly had, but her parents left her with no option. With the rapidly-brewing British wizarding war, she had her own qualms about attending Hogwarts, but her parents did not understand the conflict.

"Ah, n'importe quoi," Céline rolled her eyes. "A Wizarding war in the hands of the Brits means nothing to French ladies." Céline, though Lily's most loyal friend, could be vapid at times. She was part of one of France's wealthiest families and was the niece of the French Minister of Magic. Her entire life had been sheltered from the uglier parts of society, and she had been spoiled with presents of Louis Vuitton handbags and Dior high heels and extravagant perfumes. "You and I, however, have dinner reservations at Le Jardin de Fleur in less than an hour, non? If we don't get ready soon, we'll be late!"

"Oh, fine," Lily sighed. She hugged each girl goodbye, saving tearful Elise for last.

"We'll get together again later this week!" Lily called back to the girls as she walked away with Céline. She was leaving in three days' time, and next week would begin her seventh year, but at Hogwarts instead of Beauxbatons.

"We better, Mademoiselle Evans!" Elise shouted giddily through her tears. "We need to help you pack!"

Lily waved one last time as she and Céline walked towards the street. When they were out of sight from the rest of the girls still gathered on the beach, Céline looked at Lily and giggled.

"And now, the real fun begins." She grabbed the redhead's hand and together, they ran down the street in Cannes as the sun went down.

"Remind me again, Black, why we're in France."

"Because," came a muffled response from behind the bed. "You need to be here for your uncle's birthday party tomorrow night and I happen to like the gorgeous ladies that seem to frequent this part of the bloody world."

A tall, lean James Potter picked up the hotel TV remote and threw it as hard as he could at the tiny bit of Sirius Black's head that he could see from his seat on the room's chintz armchair.

CRACK.

The sound of the impact was hard to miss.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" The dark-haired, muscular boy crawled out from behind the bed, shaking his shaggy black hair out of his eyes as he held the back of his head, glaring at his best friend on the other side of the room.

"You think I wanted to come here for Uncle Chuck's birthday?" James sounded annoyed as he picked up a Quidditch magazine on the coffee table and buried his nose in it, pretending to read. Puddlemere United was apparently going to be playing the Montrose Magpies next Tuesday in Liverpool. "I could have gotten out of it and we would've had the whole damn house to ourselves for three days if you didn't say you wanted to come."

"Oh, quit whining," Sirius muttered, still rubbing his head where the remote hit him. "Look at it this way. We'll get free food for all of tomorrow at the party, and we're going out tonight."

"We are?" James grumbled. "I want to go to sleep."

"Yes, we are." Sirius said firmly. His dark grey eyes were excited. "As a matter of fact, it's about time we went out for dinner, as long as I don't have a concussion."

"Suck it up, Black."

"If we aren't going out for food, the least you can do is take me to the hospital! If I die, the blood will be on your hands!"

James leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes, and tossed the magazine back onto the table. He was in a bad mood that Sirius was certainly not helping to improve, and he had no desire to so much as get up out of the chair, let alone to go anywhere for dinner. "Can't we just order food from that room service thing that Muggles have?"

"HELL NO!" Sirius's tone was enough to get James moving. "That stuff tastes like burnt rubber mixed with Thestral crap!"

"Okay, okay, fine." James stood up, stretched, and ran a slightly-tanned hand through his already-messy hair. "So where do you have in mind?"

"A restaurant."

"Yes, I assumed as much. Did you have anywhere particular in mind?"

Sirius shrugged, pulling on his shoes. "We're in Cannes, for Merlin's sake, there's got to be something around here."

"So what's your plan then, just wander around until we find something?" James stared at Sirius, who was already halfway out the door, beaming energetically.

"Actually, yes, that was in fact my plan." James still looked disgruntled. Sirius continued cajolingly, "Come on, man, I don't know why you're in such a bad mood. A good meal will make you feel better, I promise. It's a beautiful night, and you haven't left the room all day."

James sighed to himself and heaved out of the chair. He knew Sirius had a point, and he pulled on his shoes. "You're right, Padfoot. Maybe I am being a bit of a downer."

"I knew you'd come 'round," Sirius chirped with a doggish grin. "Come on mate, let's get going."

And within five minutes, the two seventeen-year-old boys were out the door, looking devilishly handsome. In less than a week, they would enter their seventh year at Hogwarts. Best friends since they were eleven, the duo were like brothers—inseparable.

Together they strode through the streets of Cannes, down the famous Promenade de la Croisette, clad in tight-fitting black shirts and dark jeans. They looked like the types of young men that mothers warned their daughters to stay away from.

As they strode down the avenue, Sirius shot James a sidelong glance. "So, Jamesie, you don't happen to know any French, do you?"

He winced, closing his vibrant hazel eyes for a second. "Not particularly. I thought you said you were fluent."

"Hm, did I say that?" Sirius replied nonchalantly. "I must have misspoke." He quickly side-stepped a swift elbow to the ribs that James tried to deliver. "We'll survive, don't worry, Pro—oh, Merlin." Sirius stopped dead in his tracks, and James followed his gaze.

His eyes were locked on two girls, one blonde and one a redhead, walking towards them on the other side of the sidewalk, arms linked, laughing; both were unbelievably beautiful. They were slim, tall, and model-like, each with long, flowing hair in waves that made them look like living mermaids. The moment James caught sight of them as well, he was transfixed. The girls were gorgeous, happy, and talking to one another in rapid French. They couldn't be a day older than seventeen.

"I think I'm in love," Sirius breathed, unable to tear his gaze away from the two young women who were still strolling down the street. "Look at them. They're perfect."

"I'm starting to think France isn't so bad after all." James looked like he was about to start drooling.

The two boys waited, longing to get closer to the two, but they turned and entered a fancy-looking Muggle restaurant with casement windows opened all the way to allow the sea breeze in, with flowerboxes on the windowsills. Patrons were chatting quietly on the restaurant's pavilion, illuminated by moonlight and streetlamps, with more diners inside the attractive building. James squinted up at the restaurant's name on the sign above him.

Le Jardin de Fleur.

"Did you say you were hungry, Padfoot?" James asked, his mouth slightly dry.

"Starved." Sirius grabbed James and together, they flew in after the girls, praying not to lose sight of them.

Lily and Céline walked into Le Jardin de Fleur, dressed like celebrities. Lily wore a close-fitting, black cocktail dress, a present from Céline by some French designer that she never heard of. Céline was in a similar, dark red dress, and they both wore black heels that looked like they came straight off the runway. They had quickly cleaned up at one of Céline's many homes (this one by the beach), and immediately left for the restaurant.

"Good evening," Céline greeted the surly maître d'hôtel, a thirty-something man in vest and tie, coolly, in French. "I have a reservation for eight o'clock. The name is Girard."

"Girard…Girard…" the man glanced down at the papers he had on his stand near the entrance. "Yes. Follow me." He picked up two menus and gestured for them to follow. Despite the restaurant's swankiness, it was loud and the atmosphere was youthful. They were seated at a small table near the window looking out onto the verandah, with a view of the sea just outside. As they sat down at the white-clothed table set with flutes of champagne, Lily couldn't help but notice two strikingly handsome young men eyeing them from the entrance. She caught the gaze of the slightly taller one, with glowing hazel eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. He had jet-black hair that stuck up ever-so-slightly in the back. As he smiled at her, she blushed a fair shade of pink for reasons she couldn't explain and quickly looked down at her menu.

"So we'll start dinner with some French onion soup, oui?" Céline chirped, not noticing Lily's embarrassment. "This is the last time you can have some real French cuisine."

"Sounds delicious," Lily smiled weakly. She looked around her and saw the two men from the entrance walking towards them, led by the maître d'hôtel from before. "Uh, Céline…turn around."

"What is it?" She craned her head and caught sight of them. "Oh my." She turned back around to Lily. "Looks like we'll have some very handsome company with us tonight," she whispered across the table as the two boys were seated at the table adjacent to them.

Céline, always the flirt, sipped her champagne, watching the boys. She locked eyes with the shaggy-haired one and gave him her trademark smirk, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Bonsoir, monsieur," she said coyly, before Lily could stop her.

The boy slowly looked her up and down, taking in her close-fitting dress and shapely body, finally looking at her once more with a glint in his eye and replying, with a posh English accent indicative of his wealthy heritage, "Hello there, beautiful."

Céline just raised a single, shapely eyebrow at him and didn't answer him, looking back to Lily. "Ils sont Anglais," she said lowly to her best friend. They are British.

Lily rolled her eyes and sipped some more champagne. "They're in love with you like always, Céline."

"Maybe that one is, but the boy with glasses keeps looking at you," she said excitedly.

"And?" Lily leaned back in her chair uninterestedly. "I don't really want to pay them much mind. Tonight is about us, it's about our friendship. Not about flirting with some stupid English boys."

"Oh please," Céline joked. "Our friendship half revolves around us flirting with boys anyway."

Lily giggled and did her best not to look over at the bespectacled boy, even though she could feel his eyes on her. "But really, Céline, I don't want tonight to be about boys."

"It's fine, I understand." Céline nodded. "But we could be missing out on the night of a lifetime—okay, I'll drop it!" Lily was glaring at her. "So what did you want to order?"

Lily went back to perusing the menu. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, their waiter approach the boys' table next to them, and Glasses Boy whispered something in their server's ear. He nodded and made his way back to the kitchen while Glasses Boy and his friend grinned at each other. She chose to ignore it, even though she had the ever-so-slight feeling that they had been talking about her and Céline.

"I'm kind of feeling like some duck confit," Lily said contemplatively, thumbing through the menu. "And I need to have a look at the wine selection. We need to kick off the night the right way." Before she could make up her mind, however, she saw the waiter coming back their way, and he set down on their table a bottle of the most expensive champagne in all of France.

"For you, ladies," he said in French with a curt nod. "Courtesy of the gentlemen at the table next to you." The boys were pretending not to listen and were chatting away. Something about a woman named McGonagall…

The waiter opened the champagne with the skill that comes with years of being a sommelier, and poured it into their glasses. "For you, on the condition that they may toast with you." He filled the glasses of the British men, placed the bottle on Lily's table, and left promptly.

"Cheers," said the shaggy-haired young man. "To good food and to good company." One corner of his mouth tilted upwards slightly as he raised his glass. "I'm Sirius. Sirius Black. And this is my friend James Potter."

"Pleasure," Céline said smoothly, in impeccable English that clearly took both boys aback. "My name is Céline Girard."

"Lily Evans," Lily added, raising her wine glass. "To food and company."

They all sipped their wine, save for Sirius, who downed the contents of the glass in one gulp. "Delicious," he said, dabbing his mouth with his napkin.

"Could you even taste it, really, with how fast you drank it?" Lily cocked an eyebrow and continued sipping from her flute of champagne.

Sirius grinned. "Hardly, but I've never been one for wine. Whisky is more my speed. James" –he gestured at his companion—"always had more of a taste for the finer things than I did."

Lily's eyes darted back to the handsome boy with glasses—James. She smiled at him and gave him a wink. "Sounds like my kind of lad."

Before James could reply to her, Céline kicked Lily under the table. "Ouch!"

"What are you doing?!" Céline hissed in rapid French to Lily. "What happened to your 'no boys' rule?!"

"I'm just being polite!" Lily replied quietly. The boys were exchanging looks of slight confusion. "They bought us a bottle of champagne, for Merlin's sake!"

Céline smirked. "Well you seem awfully flirty…" Lily blushed a deep shade of red as Céline switched back to English and beamed at the boys radiantly. "Sorry about that, gentlemen. I realized that I had forgotten to remind Lily to feed the cat before we left home this evening." Céline didn't even have a cat.

"A likely story," said James, his eyes still focused on Lily. His eyes, she saw, were a rich hazel with flecks of green and gold scattered throughout, like valuable gems. "So are you ladies locals?"

"I'm from Paris," Céline replied. "Lily here is a Briton, would you believe it?"

"Really? Are you English as well?" James curiosity was piqued.

Lily giggled, her face still red from Céline's jibe before. "I was born in England and my parents are English, but I was raised in the suburbs of Paris. I'll be attending school in Scotland this fall."

"Oh really," Sirius said, looking very interested. "Whereabouts in Scotland? What's the name of the school?"

Lily immediately realized she had dug herself into a hole. "Oh uh…it's called…uh…"

"Hogsworth Hall," Céline interjected smoothly. Lily smiled at her gratefully. "I always have to remind Lily the name, you know, she's just so forgetful sometimes!" Céline smacked her arm playfully.

"And what school do you go to now?" James looked skeptical.

"Beauregard Academy in Lyons." Lily was impressed by Céline's quick thinking.

"Hm." James looked like he was storing the names in the back of his mind for later research. "I'll look into it. I'm sure it's a terrific school. We also go to school in Scotland, outside of Inverness, so maybe I'll see you around, Lily." He looked into her eyes and smiled softly. The butterflies from earlier returned to her stomach, but before she could reply, the waiter returned to their table, bearing the soup that Céline must have ordered when she wasn't paying attention.

"So where did you girls learn English so well?" James asked, sipping his wine as the girls began their soup.

"Oh, it was a requirement at our school," Céline answered proudly. "They took language very seriously."

"You know, I've never heard of this...Beauregard Academy." Sirius said slyly. Lily caught James sending Sirius a cautioning look. "Sounds awful like another school in France that I've heard of before, but I think it's in Marseilles…"

Lily's eyes widened slightly. Was he referring to Beauxbatons?

"Not a surprise," Céline replied, not showing any traces of concern on her countenance. "It's a tiny school and most of France hasn't heard of it either. But the school has really high standards for learning and all that. It's a great place."

As the main course came out, Lily and Céline continued chatting with the boys about Cannes. It was like catching up with old friends from years ago, and they put the girls so at ease, with their silly questions about French culture and life in Paris.

Finally, after several courses of food, she and Lily had finally finished their meals, and the sun had gone down hours ago.

"Well gentlemen," Céline stood up and stretched. "It was lovely to meet you, but Lily and I had better get going." She giggled. "Tonight's our last night together in France!"

"Well," James smiled mischievously as Sirius settled the check with the waiter. "Sirius and I were actually wondering if you'd like to get a drink with us."

"A drink?" Lily raised an eyebrow. "With you two?"

"Why yes," James stepped closer to Lily and she realized that, despite her tall height, he still managed to exceed her—something that not a lot of men could do. She felt butterflies flitter in her stomach. "Unless you have any objections?"

Lily and Céline looked at each other.

"Hm. Can you give us a few good reasons why we should?" Céline asked nonchalantly, wrapping an arm around her redheaded friend and pulling her ever-so-slightly away from James. Discreetly as possible, she leaned in and whispered in Lily's ear, "Is this what you want to do?"

Lily nodded almost imperceptibly, and Céline chortled. "So much for no boys," she muttered, and pulled away from Lily.

Not noticing the brief interaction between Lily and Céline, Sirius drawled, "Well, one good reason, we'll buy you whatever you want."

"Not to mention we're fun to drink with," James grinned, leaning back.

"And we'll give you a night you'll never forget," Sirius finished with a seductive wink.

Lily snickered. "Convincing. All right, you have a deal."

"I'm ready for a night with the crazy British boys!" Céline exclaimed, grabbing her purse and headed for the door. "I know just the place for us!"

"Crazy British boys?" Sirius countered with a playful glare as the group followed Céline to the door. "Try crazy French girls."

"Crazy we may be, but you don't mind it," Lily shot back. She felt James's hand on her lower back, guiding her in front of him as they walked towards the exit, and her heartbeat raced.

"I like crazy, don't you worry," James winked. "It works well on you, with that red hair you've got." He reached out and touched a lock of it, twirling it between his long fingers. "It fits that wild personality of yours."

"I don't think you can handle my level of crazy, Monsieur Potter," Lily replied flirtatiously, as they stepped out into the night, and the oceanic wind pulled her hair out from between his fingers and allowed it to billow in the breeze.

"Try me."

A/N: For those who may have missed my previous post, I took down the original few chapters of this story and I'm in the process of revising it. It's still the same plot, but cleaned up a bit so I'm more satisfied with its quality.

Well, that's chapter 1 for you all! I previously had this put together with the scene where they go to the bar (next chapter), but with revisions, I was concerned that it would be too lengthy for a first chapter. Let me know what you think! Love you all, and don't forget to review!

-The Silent Rain