Proving Me Wrong

PROVING ME WRONG

LAST CHAPTER: -

"'Lo, Lily," James mumbled. Then he smiled.

All thoughts of Dorcas flew from her mind.

CHAPTER 17

"Not Everyone Wants A Pair of Ruby Red Slippers"

James could tell she was smiling back at him, even without his glasses.

He had been having a bad dream, but what it was about he couldn't say. The memory of it was already slipping away with every second that Lily smiled, along with the twisting feeling in his gut that he had done something wrong. But James supposed that he should be used to that feeling by now.

He didn't care to think about it, in any case, he just wanted to enjoy the fact that Lily wasn't frowning or crying, and that he wasn't either, for that matter.

"It's been a long day," the redhead murmured to herself.

She couldn't help thinking about how much homework she would have to do in her free period tomorrow morning. When she had asked James for his Transfiguration notes to revise for their end-of-topic test he'd bluntly told her that he didn't take notes in that class. "Lucky for some," Lily had thought with grudging admiration.

And she still hadn't found out what she was doing wrong with that Aging Charm; the book of Al-kimia and Osiris was fascinating but completely useless for what she wanted. Lily knew that she ought to ask Flitwick tomorrow, but she would really rather not. She had gotten this far in her charmwork without needing any help, and the professor usually left her to her own devices in his classes. She didn't want that liberty removed because Flitwick thought her to be struggling on a rudimentary spell. She decided that she would strive on and if by next week...if by next week she hadn't solved the problem, she would be forced to inform her professor.

James yawned loudly, like a lion on a natural history programme, and a moment later Lily found herself yawning too.

"Yawns are contagious, you know," they said at the same time, and they both laughed.

Lily raised her arms and stretched indolently, arching her back and enjoying the warmth of the fire on the backs of her legs, before dropping her arms to her sides and moving to gather her robes and her bag from the armchair.

She could feel his eyes on her until she turned round, and indicated the second bundle; "I brought your robes back for you, James... James?"

James lifted his eyes to look at her face, "Yeah?"

"Your robes," Lily repeated.

"Oh- thanks." He put his glasses on and stood up.

Lily kicked off her shoes, and started to make her way up to her bedroom.

"G'night, Lily."

"Night, James."

She reached the top and unlocked her door with a word, but stood for a moment wondering whether she should tell James what Dorcas Meadows had said about the Slytherins at the quidditch pitch.

"Evans?" he called up, hearing her pause on the landing.

She looked around at him, down at the bottom of the staircase."...Potter?"

"Something on your mind?" he asked, blinking to try to shake off his drowsiness.

Lily pushed open her door. "...Ye- No," she glanced over her shoulder at him, "No, it's okay. It's not so important that I have to tell you right now, ask me tomorrow." She walked into her room and dumped her things onto her desk.

"Are you sure?" she heard him shout up.

Lily slipped back out onto the wooden landing in her socked feet and nodded, "I'm just too tired to discuss conspiracy theories right now, James," she said honestly.

James's face fell in disappointment, "That's just cruel, Evans. To pique my curiosity and then leave me hanging 'til tomorrow?" He shook his head in mock dejection. "I won't be able to sleep now, I'll be up all night wondering what dastardly schemes you've uncovered."

Lily snorted, "You won't be going to sleep for a while anyway, after napping all evening." She paused, and then with genuine enthusiasm said, "Maybe you could start your DADA homework! Since you're awake." She couldn't help but laughing at the look of dismay on James's face at this suggestion.

She turned away, "Night, James" and went back into her bedroom.

James stood at the bottom of the stairs for a few seconds, before he went and flopped onto the sofa once more. Staring into the fire, he vaguely reckoned that Lily's hair was a much prettier shade than the flames in the hearth.

Then a strange notion rose to the forefront of his mind.

He fancied Lily Evans.

James gave a loud snort and turned onto his back, shaking his head at the sheer randomness of it. He closed his eyes, trying to think about something else but seconds later burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that he ended up rolling on the sofa clutching his stomach, he was still quietly chortling at the idea fifteen minutes later. But then James thought of her- how she looked when she smiled, and how incredible he felt when she smiled, especially when she was smiling at him.

He sat bolt upright on the settee, his stomach still squirming pleasantly at the thought. Merlin, it was true. He did.

That explained a lot.

Leaning forward uncertainly, he tried the words out on his tongue. "I fancy Lily Evans?" he whispered. He raised his eyebrows, as though amazed that he had not been struck by lightning.

Next he tried, "I fancy Evans?" But immediately a look of revulsion appeared on his face, he didn't like the sound of that at all. Still grimacing, he reluctantly tried another.

"I like Lily," he breathed. He blinked a few times, and with the corners of his mouth twitching he repeated the words. He murmured, with a bit more volume, "I like Lily." He grinned lopsidedly. He liked the sound of that... he liked the sound of that a lot.

He liked Lily.

Falling back onto the cushions, he took his wand out of his pocket and quickly transfigured a cobweb on the ceiling into the words 'I LIKE LILY' before sending them whizzing round the room. He watched the progress of the letters, which glittered red and green, with a daft smile on his face. He didn't know what he was going to do as regards this amazing revelation, tell her, he supposed. Sometime soon, he decided, tomorrow, first thing. Then it occurred to him that she might even feel the same way about him. If it were possible, his spirits rose even higher at the thought.

He was just imagining he and Lily going to the Seventh Year Formal together when he realised that his flashing words were nowhere to be seen. He got off the sofa to go and look for them; he wouldn't want to lose them, ever. Apart from being a nice bit of magic, good enough to use for his Transfiguration coursework, they were special to him. James muttered, "Accio words" and waited expectantly. But nothing arrived. He cursed his own emotions, for it appeared that in his elation, James had put a little too much of himself into the cobweb. He'd given it had a mind of its own, and at this moment it was stubbornly choosing not to answer his summons.

He went and checked the fire, hoping the poor little phrase hadn't drifted in and been burned to a cinder, it was only made of cobwebs after all. Thankfully, after he put out the fire and cleaned the grate, there was no trace of a letter to be found amongst the ashes. He walked to the bottom of his stairs and looked up to his bedroom door, but saw nothing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a glitter of green on the opposite side of the room. The 'I LIKE LILY' was hovering halfway up the girl-in-question's staircase, twinkling playfully at James. "Got you," he murmured, taking off his shoes and making his way silently towards the stairs. He was just about to put a foot on the bottom step when he froze, thinking. Could Lily's stairs be like those leading to the girl's dormitories? Charmed to keep the 'untrustworthy' boys away? Well, James thought, there's only one way to know. He put his right foot solidly on the bottom stair.

Immediately a loud klaxon sounded, but rather than turning into a slide, each step flattened into the next, then the entire staircase began moving fast, like a hyper-speed conveyer belt. The glittering words had by this time, moved further up the stairs, and James knew that if the phrase had been given a voice, it would be giggling right now. James watched the moving steps, like one would watch a skipping rope before jumping in. It wouldn't be impossible to get up the stairs, he mused, not a very fail-safe way of keeping the Head Boy and Head Girl out of each other's bedrooms. He had a sudden mental image that caused his cheeks to flush. He grinned ruefully. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, trying to get up there, he thought. He might be glad of the practice soon enough.

He silenced the klaxon with a spell, and ran at the conveyer belt, getting about halfway up the stairs before tripping and being carried back down to the bottom. He tried again and again, each time getting a little further, but still ending up back on the common room floor. Panting with the effort, James shrewdly guessed that the purpose of the charmed stairs wasn't to keep the Head Boy away from the Head Girl, but to make sure that by the time he reached her door, he was too tired to... do anything.

The 'I LIKE LILY' was now flitting outside her door. James's eyes gleamed with triumph as he said, "Accio Cleansweep." The broomstick came soaring down his staircase and stopped obediently beside him. James hopped on and rocketed up the Head Girl's stairs, reaching out to grab the phrase. But he closed his fingers around air as the words dodged his hand. And after a glittering pirouette in midair, the phrase zoomed down, turned gracefully on its side, and slipped underneath Lily's door.

James swore, scrambled off his broomstick and laid flat on his stomach, struggling to see through the gap between the door and floor. The room was pitch black; evidently the alarm hadn't woken Lily. There was no sign of green or red anywhere on the floor, which meant that the words must have been hovering somewhere higher up. After several minutes of frantic but fruitless searching through the tiny crack under the door, he got to his feet, hopelessly trying "Alohamora" on the door handle. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work. James didn't even bother to brush the dust off his clothes before he clambered on his broom and flew miserably back down the stairs.

There was no way he was going to get the words back tonight, he thought despairingly, and the possibility that Lily would see them first made him want to throw up. Of course he had been planning to tell her tomorrow morning anyway, but now the idea seemed stupid and risky. What if she laughed in his face? Or worse, what if she didn't? What if she acted the way James himself did when rebuffing romantic advances, with a pitying smile and a consolatory 'friends' hug? James made a pained expression and put his head in his hands.

***

A scrawny boy of around eleven years old hurried down the steps to the dungeons; he had the pasty face of someone who had been recently ill, wheezing and puffing as he ran to reach the dormitories before the Statue went for a night time stroll, his hobnailed boots clattering noisily on the stone slabs like some sort of frenzied tap dance.

He rounded the corner, and saw the backs of three older boys beside the entrance, conversing with Egon, the only moving statue in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and sentinel of the Slytherin common room.

Although relieved to see that the Statue hadn't left yet, the little boy continued to rush, having heard from classmates that Egon was twice as likely to wander off somewhere if he saw you coming. A second later he saw that the marble man was stepping off his pedestal, and the boy began to shout, "Hold up!"

The words died in his throat however, as the older boys, hearing his heavy footfalls, turned around to look at him, and he saw their red ties.

Gryffindors.

He skidded to a halt.

The boy had Potions and Herbology with the Gryffindors, and despite the constant warnings, had made friends with a couple of them. They were all right, he thought. A bit full of themselves, but all right. Except these lads blocking his path weren't first years like him. These were big, tall, seventeen-year-old Gryffindors, who had been despising Slytherins for years. They wouldn't care that he had mates in Gryffindor, or that he secretly believed James Potter was the best chaser he had ever seen.

No, when they looked at him, they saw a snake. They saw a snake every single time.

Each of the young men stared at him for a few seconds, before returning to their conversation with Egon. It seemed to the boy that these Gryffindors had bigger fish to fry, and would hopefully let him off with a Leg-Locker curse or Jellylegs jinx.

Seeing that none of the three had drawn a wand, the boy began to move forward slowly, his heart pounding, his feet dragging along the ground. A screechy drum roll reverberated around the dungeon with each shuffle of his boots.

"Drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-ump, Drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-ump."

He was level with them, standing in front of Egon, who now had both feet firmly back in place on the plinth, his white eyes watching the boy with fascination. He leaned forward to whisper the password, the Statue blinking slowly as a small hand touched his arm.

"Wait," said the sandy-haired Gryffindor, causing the little Slytherin to jump in alarm.

The boy looked fearfully at the Gryffindor, a shimmer of sweat visible on his yellow forehead, and said, "What do you want?" He tried to steady his breathing but to no avail, he continued to wheeze.

"Will you tell Regulus Black to come out here?" said the fair-haired young man softly, taking a step towards him.

"I, I, I don't know who he his," panted the little Slytherin as his chest tightened. "I don't know what he loo- loo- looks like!"

"Calm down," said the shortest Gryffindor, moving forward. "Don't have a nervous breakdown, for Merlin's sake."

The Slytherin could only gasp in response.

"He's having an asthma attack, I think. Do either of you know what wizards use instead of an inhaler?"

"What the hell is an inhaler?"

"Never mind. Maybe this isn't a good idea, Padfoot," said the sandy-haired boy, while turning to the black-haired Gryffindor whom had remained silent thus far, as the scrawny kid struggled for breath. "We should get this little boy to Madam Pomfrey, he's turning blue."

"No," said the last Gryffindor. Then he strode forwards and grasped the little boy's shoulders, staring coldly down into his waxen face. "Kid, oi, kid! Look at me!" he said roughly, forcing the little Slytherin to look straight into the his own bloodshot eyes. "He looks like me. Alright? Regulus Black looks like me. Tell him his brother's here."

The boy nodded, and when the Gryffindor let go of him, he staggered backwards, tripping over Egon's pedestal. He jumped up quickly, and after gasping the password, stumbled into the door behind the statue.

He stopped as soon as he got inside and slumped against the wall, tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he choked the spell the matron had taught him, the one which freed his lungs. It took a quite a while for him to stop shaking, and longer for his breathing to return to normal, but after about ten minutes, the little Slytherin wiped his face and made his way down the tunnel to his common room.

When he arrived in the familiar green glow he spotted a few of his friends getting up and coming over to greet him with cries of, "You're better!" and "Back from the hospital wing!" But they stopped in their tracks when they spotted his sweat-soaked hair and swollen eyes.

"Artie, what's happened to you?" a boy asked apprehensively.

He bit his lip and shook his head miserably, fearing that the tears would return if he stopped to explain. He walked on, towards the corner where the older students sat. He immediately recognised Regulus Black. He looked about fourteen and was lounging in an armchair seeming bored, his grey eyes haughtily surveying the room as he listened to the girl, who the boy knew was a seventh year prefect, talk.

" - wants us to have another one before Christmas holidays." The girl paused and watched the little first year approach through her hooded eyes.

"Yes?" she asked delicately, and everyone in the group turned to look at him; he could feel people behind him watching as well.

"I have a message for Regulus Black," the little Slytherin whispered, feeling a threatening lump in his throat.

"Speak up," the girl said, smiling widely.

He spoke with a bit more volume this time, "I have a message for Regulus Black."

Regulus sat up in his seat and looked at the little boy with interest, sweeping his black hair out of his eyes.

"Who is it from," said the seventh year girl in a baby voice, "some pathetic ickle Ravenclaw wondering why he didn't owl her back?" Everyone in the circle laughed and Regulus grinned smugly.

The boy didn't smile, but said, "No, it's from his brother."

The atmosphere in the room tensed instantly and the little first year felt several gazes move from him to the girl, who had sat up in her seat with a hateful expression on her face.

Regulus's face was blank, but there was a flicker of...something...in his stormy eyes. No one made a sound or moved a muscle.

"And what did the bastard say?" demanded the girl suddenly, making more than one person jump.

"He wants to talk to you," the boy mumbled to Regulus, "He wants to talk to Regulus," he repeated to the girl.

Regulus stood up quickly, but the girl screeched, "WAIT!" She looked at the first year, "He's here? He's outside now?" she said coarsely, her chest heaving slightly with excitement.

"Yes," he answered timorously. "They're beside Egon."

The girl's expression darkened, "There's more than one?"

He nodded, "Three."

The girl looked around the group with an appraising glare, whilst her housemates waited with bated breath. Finally she nodded and said, "We could take them," and a savage cheer burst from the Slytherins. Wands were being drawn as well as some strange objects the little kid had never seen before, he heard one boy mutter excitedly to his friend, "I knew this would come in handy," as he put on a chunky silver bracelet which was encrusted with blood. His friend rolled his eyes and pulled his wand out of his back pocket.

"Hold it."

Someone the little boy hadn't even realised was there stepped out of the shadows, his greasy black hair forming curtains around his pallid face. He stared at the girl, who seemed livid that he had decided to talk now.

"Before you begin the massacre, I want to pose a question. What do you think Dumbledore will do if the entire house attacks three unsuspecting Gryffindors?"

"Who cares," spat the dark-haired girl, digging her sharp fingernails into the leather of the chair. "It's about time we put those Muggle-lovers in their place!"

The Slytherins roared in agreement, many getting to their feet. The girl smirked at the greasy-haired boy as she stood up and the group parted for her. The crowd pushed the little first year to one side, but he continued to watch the scene unfold from behind Regulus's high-backed chair.

"I care!" hissed the greasy-haired boy, baring his teeth. The girl turned her back on him and began to walk away. In a flash, the boy had non-verbally disarmed her and held her thin ebony wand in his palm. She spun round, with her thick black her whipping behind her, and her expression murderous. "SNAPE! YOU HALF-BLOOD BASTARD! GIVE ME BACK MY WAND!"

Snape's lip curled in disgust at her behaviour. Not taking his eyes off her, he tapped her wand with his own, and it vanished from his hand.

The girl opened her mouth to screech again, but he cut across her. "Don't you ever THINK? If we go out there and put three Gryffindors in the Hospital Wing, Dumbledore will have us expelled."

The girl rolled her eyes, and with flared nostrils she said, "Dumbledore can't expel us, Snape. My uncle will - "

"Dumbledore doesn't give a house-elf's head about your uncle or your aunt, Bellatrix!" Snape whispered harshly. "The teachers are waiting for a reason to get rid of us, you especially. I don't have a name to hide behind, neither do the others," he looked towards the rest of the group. "And I'm not willing to risk it, because we need to stay at Hogwarts, we are of no use to Him if we're gone." He gave her a cold and meaningful glare, and waited for her response.

Bellatrix was breathing heavily, her eyes narrowed to slits, but an unnatural smile was beginning to play across her scowling lips. She gave Snape the slightest of nods before saying to Regulus, whose face was still void of emotion, "Go out and talk to your brother, little cousin. Take the runt with you in case they try anything."

The little first year hadn't even realised that she was talking about him before Regulus had taken a hold of his arm and was marching him towards the door.

"Give him my love!" Bellatrix called after their retreating backs. Her cackles followed the two of them all the way up the tunnel.

The two boys stopped at the entrance. Regulus gave him a push, "You first," he ordered with a stony expression on his face. After a useless pleading look at Regulus, the boy hesitantly pushed open the door and slipped out.

Egon had left, so there was nothing to hide him from the gazes of the three Gryffindors still waiting in front of the plinth. They looked up at him. Regulus's brother, the one who had grabbed him earlier, seemed to have calmed down.

"Is he - " began Regulus's brother. But he never finished his question as Regulus stepped out behind the little Slytherin, a sneer fixed on his face.

"You wanted to speak with me, traitor?" he said, taking hold of the boy's arm again and walking into the middle of the corridor, keeping him by his side. The first year felt goosebumps popping up on his arms and on the back of his neck, he prayed that Black's brother didn't attack, as he knew that he would be the first to be hit.

"Why did you send Kreacher after the Head Girl?" the Gryffindor demanded.

Regulus faltered and his grip on the first year slackened, " - What? "

"I know Kreacher was here; I know he pushed Evans. Why'd you do it?" said his brother. The little Slytherin couldn't believe what he was hearing; these Gryffindors thought that Regulus Black tried to kill the Head Girl? It wasn't James Potter, then? The kid looked at the older boy, he could see that Regulus was as shocked by this accusation as he was. Regulus met his gaze, allowing the boy to see the bewilderment in his eyes...and the suspicion.

"I didn't tell anyone to do anything," replied Regulus, his cool façade back in place. Then he added with a bit more confidence, "And even if I did...you don't have any proof, or else you wouldn't be here. Nothing's going to happen to me."

He turned his back on the Gryffindors and moved to the entrance with the first year, "Is that all?" he asked his brother disdainfully over his shoulder.

The Gryffindor was seething, "You're a lying little snake. Did Bella put you up to it?" he said, and the little boy saw his housemate's eyes widen.

"Regulus," said the sandy-haired boy grimly, "We know it was you, it doesn't matter who put you up to it or what proof we have. What we want to know is... are you going to finish what you started?"

The first year didn't know where Regulus got the courage to say what he said next. He turned around to face them and smirked, "That's for me to know and for you to spend the next few months worrying about, isn't it?" He grinned cruelly. "I think we're finished here."

Two of the Gryffindors began to walk away, but Regulus's brother stood there, staring at him. He started to blink profusely and opened his mouth to speak...but then seemed to think better of it and turned to catch up with his friends.

"Oh yeah, I forgot!" Regulus shouted suddenly, "Bellatrix sends her love!"

Only the short one looked back.

As soon as the Gryffindors had rounded the corner, Regulus let go of the kid and fell back against the wall, "It's good to see you too, Sirius," he whispered. Then he frowned and was biting the inside of his cheek, ignoring the first year.

The little boy suddenly realised that he shouldn't have heard any of that. "You're going to Oblivate me now, aren't you?" he asked Regulus.

To his surprise, Regulus laughed. "Why would I do that to my insurance?" he said to him, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately.

"Insurance?" the first year asked anxiously, looking up at him.

Regulus knelt down and looked at him seriously. "I think I'm being set up," he said, "You're the only proof I have of my innocence."

The boy didn't understand what he was talking about. "You think the Gryffindors are going to frame you?"

Regulus shook his head. "No. But that doesn't matter."

The first year was more confused than ever, but since Regulus didn't seem half as terrifying as his older brother, he decided to ask another question. "But what can I do? Why will people believe what I say, couldn't I be lying?"

"You're right," nodded Regulus, "No one would believe you if you said I didn't do it, because you're a Slytherin."

"Then how...?" he asked.

"Tell me...um...?"

"Artie," supplied the first year.

Regulus grinned. "Tell me, Artie, do you know what a pensieve is?"

***

On Thursday morning, Lily was pleasantly surprised to find James standing outside her door, waiting to go to breakfast with her. She ignored the fact that he had his broomstick in his hand and instead mentioned to him about the little glittering object zooming around her room. She had woken up to find the creature, if that was what it was, zipping around her head, moving so fast that she could barely make it out. James had one foot through the door before Lily had even finished the sentence, and quickly transfigured the twinkling blur into a cobweb for some unfathomable reason. Then he put it in his pocket.

On their way to the Great Hall, James said, "So are you going to tell me what this conspiracy theory is, then?"

Lily had to think for a moment to realise what he was talking about. Quickly casting Muffliato, to avoid eavesdroppers, Lily told him about Dorcas Meadows at the quidditch pitch.

James had no doubt as to who was responsible for the locked door and the deserted pitch. "It was Snape," he said to Lily, "I'm sure of it. I just never thought he'd have the ba - " Lily shot him a reproving look, " - the nerve - to do something like this right under Dumbledore's nose. But then again, Black is probably involved as well, she wouldn't think twice about having a Death Eater meeting on school grounds." He held open a tapestry for Lily, and then followed her along a shortcut. "Actually, I think she'd get off on it...twisted bitch."

Lily didn't reprimand James for his language this time, because he was right. Bellatrix Black was twisted. As she walked Lily vividly recalled the threat Bellatrix had given her in September, "It doesn't matter if you're a shrivelled old hag when He gets you, He will. Just know this Mudblood, when He does get you...I'll be there."

And only a few weeks later Lily had almost been killed at the quidditch pitch. Lily shuddered as she thought about the ugly elf shuffling towards her, though she knew that it couldn't possibly be a real memory.

Even so, Kreacher the house-elf, whether real or imagined, visited her in her dreams every night without fail. Sometimes he just looked at her, pure malevolence in his pale eyes, but other times he would click his twig-like fingers, sending scorching pain through her arms and legs, forcing her to let go, then she would fall. In her dreams no one ever found her, when she reached the bottom of steps in her dreams, she died.

James tentatively put a hand on Lily's shoulder, "Are you alright?" She nodded silently, shrugging his hand off, and continued walking.

"Snape and Black, they've been whispering together since the train," Lily told James, blind to his wounded expression. "But if we're lucky it was only the first meeting and that gives us time to tell Dumbledore."

"I thought you told Meadowes that you would only go to Dumbledore if you thought it was something to be concerned about?" asked James as they reached the entrance hall.

Lily looked at him. "It is something to be concerned about, we both know that, and I'm sure Dorcas does too. But these castle walls have eyes and ears, and I think it'll be better for us if it appears that I'm not going to go to Dumbledore right away."

The two of them entered the Great Hall, which had been lavishly decorated for tomorrow's Halloween feast, and sat down in what had become their usual seats. Lily started buttering some toast but James didn't feel like eating anything. He couldn't eat, not now... not when he knew that sometime today he was going to have to tell Lily that he fancied her.

He had decided sometime during the night that he would do it. James knew that to not tell her would be to sign his own death warrant. The stress of worrying whether she had found out by other means would surely kill him; of that much he was sure.

The post arrived, and James's owl, Loki, swooped down to steal a bit of Lily's toast before flying off to the Owlery to sleep. Lily laughed and asked James if he had trained his owl to take other people's breakfasts rather than his own. James grinned and started to make a funny retort when a high-pitched whistling reached his ears. He looked up and spotted Alastor Moody sitting at the teachers' table, his pocket Sneakoscope going haywire in his gnarled hand.

"What's Moody doing here?" Lily wondered aloud, frowning.

James suddenly remembered why he had woken up last night with that twisting feeling in his stomach. In his interrogation with Moody...he had been forced to tell him things...things that could very possibly reveal Lily's secret. James grimaced; she was going to kill him.

"Er- Lily?" he said, as the bell for classes began to ring. She looked at him. "You have a free period now, right?"

"Yes," she replied, "And I have so much work to do it is unbelievable!"

"Right, well, is there any way you could meet me in the common room at about ten o'clock? I need to talk to you about something."

Her emerald eyes filled with worry, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just - don't be late, okay?" he said, getting up and swinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Okay," she nodded, giving him a strange look.

Ten o'clock arrived and Lily was standing in her common room, panting after a sprint from the library. James was already waiting for her; he was sitting on the coffee table looking at his shoes. Lily sat down on the settee in front of him and crossed her legs.

"Lily?" he said finally, looking up at her.

"James?" she replied.

"Aren't you going to ask me where I was yesterday afternoon?" he asked abruptly.

She was surprised at the peculiar question; usually they never mentioned his disappearances. Tilting her head to one side, she plainly surveyed his face and realised that he was anxious.

Lily met his eyes, "Are you going to tell me if I do?" she asked slowly.

"Ask me," was his reply.

Expecting the worst, she met his gaze and said, "Where did you go?"

James was sorry to be the cause of that expression on the pretty girl's face, the one she wore to steel herself against bad news. It was depressing to note that she had grown up to always expect the worst, and even more depressing to note that that was all he could offer her. He knew that in the next few minutes he may well destroy any hope he had of ever going out with Lily Evans, and wondered why life had to be so bloody difficult.

He sighed and answered her. "I went to Dumbledore's office. To be interro- questioned by the Ministry - about your fall."

Lily knew what this meant. It meant that there was a possibility that someone other than James now knew about her home life. She almost forgot to breath.

He continued uncertainly, "There was an auror there... Alastor Moody- "

Lily's face blanched, "Moody?"

James looked up, "How- how do you know him?" he asked warily.

"He's head of the auror training program in Kent," she answered in a whisper. "What did you tell him?"

James was fighting the urge to panic. "He asked me about your fall, and he had that Sneakoscope with him, but Dumbledore couldn't see it, so I couldn't lie to him, and so I had to tell him why I wasn't in class that morning in September..." James looked quickly at Lily's face before continuing, "...which meant that I had to explain about my fight with Remus and Sirius- "

"Which meant that you had to tell him about me?" spat Lily with a look of betrayal as she stood up.

"Merlin, Lily," muttered James with a pained expression, and running a hand through his hair, "Don't look at me like that...like I would sell you to Voldemort if I had the chance."

Lily folded her arms, and said darkly, "So did you?"

He was silent.

"Did you tell Moody about me, James?" she demanded.

James gave her an apologetic look before saying, "He knows about your back."

Lily's mouth fell open and she stared at James with an expression of agonising disbelief. When he didn't say anything, her eyes left his face...and she realised it wasn't a joke. She drew away from him, putting a distance between them, as she began to feel sick.

She clapped her trembling hands over her mouth as the tears began to fall. "Oh my God, Oh my God," she whimpered from behind her hands. "Oh my God, James, Oh my God," she sobbed, shaking her head.

James got up and began to move towards her but Lily jumped back. Gasping between sobs, she cried, "Stay away from me! DON'T YOU REALISE WHAT YOU'VE DONE?"

James was crying too now, reaching out to her, he begged, "Please Lily - it's not that bad - he doesn't know how it happened - "

"It doesn't matter, James! If he knows that I had severe problems with my back before my fall, he'll never let me get past the physical exam in July! Thanks to you, I'm never going to become an Auror!"

James felt a stab of pain in his heart. "Oh fuck, Lily. I didn't know! I didn't know! Please, please, don't cry - "

She tried to move away again but he caught her in his arms and pulled her close to him. "Please, Lily!" he whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, don't - don't leave...I can fix it, I'll make it right. You're going to be an Auror... you are..."

Lily pulled back from him to look into his eyes.

James had never wanted to kiss anybody more.

A moment later her expression softened and she heaved a shaky sigh without removing her gaze from his face.

James leaned closer, so close that he was able to count the freckles across the bridge of her nose. "Lily, there's something else I want to say as well," he said gently. He took a deep breath, "Lily, I really, really li - "

The bell rang. James froze, silently cursing the man who'd invented clocks. Then he reluctantly released her and stepped back. Lily wiped her face and picked up her bag, saying, "You can tell me later James, I really can't miss the start of Herbology - we're doing Devil's Snare today."

James nodded silently, knowing that he had just missed his chance.

Lily noticed his glum expression and walked back over to him, placing her hand lightly on his shoulders. She sniffed, "I forgive you, James. No one knows how my back was hurt; I can make up a story to tell Dumbledore." She gave a watery smile, "And as you said, you're going to help me fix things with Moody..." She caught his eyes. "Everything is going to be fine."

James grinned just enough to satisfy her. She dropped her hands and after telling him not to wait for her at lunch because she had to go to the library, she left the common room.

James retrieved his bag and gave the coffee table a hard kick, cursing. He shouldn't have let her go, he should have held on and told her, and kissed her. He knew he would never get that moment back.

Never ever.

***

"Greta...Greta...GRETA!"

"What, Caradoc? I'm a bit busy here - do you know the best way to trim a Devil's Snare?"

"Look! It's - it's!"

"YES?"

"Lumos solem!"

"My eyes, my eyes! I'm blind! I need my eyes Dearborn; it's a bit difficult to see without them! What on earth did you just do?"

There was a soft thud as something was dropped onto the earthy greenhouse floor.

"I just saved you from the most lethal hug ever, Greta!" he proclaimed.

Greta unscrunched her eyes and squinted at the boy in front of her. "You what?"

Caradoc nodded smugly towards the floor, where a huge tentacle of Devil's Snare was lying motionless. Greta's hazel eyes widened at the sight of it and she leapt back in terror.

"Oh my Godric!" she gasped.

"Catchlove, what's going on over there?"

"Nothing, sir!" she yelled to the professor. As soon as he looked away, Greta was flicking her wand and sending the plant flying at Caradoc's head.

"Aaargh!" he yelped as he threw his hands up in front of his face.

"Hahaha- ahahaha!" crowed the girl, holding her ribs. "That's what you get for trying to blind me!"

"I saved your life!"

"Yeah, yeah! If you wanted to get rid of me, you could have just pushed me off the quidditch stands like everybody else- oh! Fudge! Sorry, Lily!" she cried to the girl a few feet away from her.

"Fudge? Someone calling me?" came a pompous voice.

Caradoc and Greta shared an exasperated look. "No, Barnabas, I was just trying not to say the 'F' word, go back to work."

Caradoc sniggered, "I can't believe you still call it the 'F' word. What age are you? It's a good thing there's no one here with the surname Sugar, though."

"Yes, darling?"

"Shut up, Greta."

"Alrighty."

The silence was broken about twenty seconds later.

"Seriously, can't you do something about your hair? I don't know whether to kill it or lay my eggs in it."

"Hey!" she patted her frizzy brown mane defensively. "This is fashionable this is! Funnily enough, I haven't seen anyone with a red Mohawk in Teen Witch recently!"

"I thought you said it looked pink?" he demanded.

"I did say it looked pink, but it sort of defeats the purpose if you take it as a compliment, doesn't it?"

"So it's not pink then?"

"As pink as a post box."

"I don't know what a post box is, but something tells me they're not pink."

"So that's why you're in Ravenclaw. Smart girl."

"I'm a boy, Greta."

"Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe."

"So, my hair's crap then? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Well..." she nodded.

"Lily! Are you finished? Good. Can you please come up here for a sec?"

The Head Girl got up from her table of neat Devil's Snare slices, where Tabitha and Dorcas were sitting chatting, and made her way over to them. She smiled at them both. "Hi Greta, don't worry about the quidditch stands thing, it was funny...Now, what seems to be the problem?" she said, turning to Caradoc.

"My hair is a disaster. Can you fix it?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want to go natural again- "

"What?" Greta cut in laughing, "Those bloody ringlets! - "

"Yes, natural." He said coolly. "So can you do it, Lily?"

"Of course, but..." Lily coughed, "Um, Caradoc, I can't remember that far back...what is your proper colour?"

"Dirty fair."

"Dirty fair! Mousy brown is more like it, Lily."

Lily swished her wand and murmured a few words...

"My head feels a lot warmer."

"That's because you've got more hair. It actually looks...decent, for once. "

"Really?" he patted his dark curls.

Then Professor Root called, "Pack up now everyone! The bell's about to go!"

After glimpsing himself in the glass, he beamed. "Thanks, Lily. You roll!"

"It's 'rock', Caradoc. 'You rock.'"

He rolled his eyes and mimicked her, "Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe."

"Say, Lily?" Greta began, her eyes sparkling, "What's your favourite cheese?"

"No! No, Lily! Don't answer her! She keeps asking people that and won't tell me why! It's not right I tell you!" He looked at Lily for support. "It's unnatural for anyone to have such an interest in a dairy product! Especially cheese!"

"Brie, I think." Lily replied thoughtfully, despite Caradoc's scream of, "Nooo!"

Greta stuck out her tongue at the boy, whipped out her quill and scratched a note on a scrap of parchment. She ripped a square off and handed it to Lily.

"What's this?" asked Lily.

"It's your 'If-you-liked-that-cheese-then-you'll-love-this-cheese' memo."

Lily raised her eyebrows, "Oh. Montgomery's Unpasteurised Cheddar?"

"Oh yeah," Greta nodded reverently, "It's mental."

"No - no, you're mental!" he pointed at her, just as the bell rang. He shook his head regretfully at Lily; "I'll take her off your hands now, before she tries to show you how to charm your own cheese. Come on, Greta!" Caradoc grabbed her by the sleeve and pulled her away.

"Thanks for your contribution, Lily!" the fuzzy-haired girl shouted as she was dragged.

"You're welcome!"

***

James didn't see Lily until after curfew that evening. He had had quidditch practice, which had gone really well he was pleased to note, and Lily had, something, on as well. Lily always had something on.

He had been feeling more and more nauseous as the day progressed, still determined to tell her how he felt, even though it seemed the fates ("And the school timetable," he thought bitterly) were against him.

He was seated in the armchair in the common room with his feet propped up on the coffee table and a copy of Which Broomstick? lying open on his lap. But he wasn't reading it. He was putting all his efforts into keeping down his dinner, and the baking pumpkin smells wafting through the corridors didn't help. Now that he thought about it, James wondered who had had the daft idea to try and get juice from a pumpkin. The portrait hole opened and Lily came in, and along with her came so many food smells that James was sure he was going to retch all over the glossy picture of the new Nimbus 1000.

"Are you ill, James?" Lily asked him but he shook his head.

"You know what? I'm actually quite glad that Dumbledore and Moody know, it means that I can stop fretting about what they know and actually do something to sort it out."

James gave her a dubious look.

"No, really. I'm not trying to make you feel better, Potter. I really mean it. I just feel, I don't know, lighter or something. It's good."

"So, what are you going to tell Dumbledore when he asks you about it? You know he will," James said.

"I was thinking of telling him that my cuts were just a glamour I was practising for Charms, and that you came into the bathroom..." then she mumbled something.

"What was that Lily?" enquired James shrewdly.

Lily sighed and continued with reluctance. "And that you came into the bathroom, drunk, and believed that what you were seeing was real."

James sat up indignantly, "It was real! Dumbledore's going to think I'm an alcoholic if you tell him that!"

"You're the one that got me into this mess, so I don't think you have much say in the matter of what you're addicted to in the Headmaster's eyes," she replied tartly.

That shut James up.

"Fine, tell him whatever you want." James said, shaking his head.

"Thanks. Oh, what did you want to tell me? You were about to say something earlier but the bell rang."

It's now or never, James thought. He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. "Lily, I like you."

Lily's lips quirked into a smile. "Right, James." Then she got up and started taking books out of her bag.

James coughed, he wasn't prepared for this, incredulity! "No, Lily, really," he tried again, "I like you."

"Like," he added for emphasis.

"You are sick! Do you have a temperature? I think you're delirious," Lily said shortly, holding her wand to his forehead.

"Lily, for Merlin's sake, I'm not ill," James said, pushing the wand away.

Lily knew he was serious when he didn't let go of her hand.

James fancied her? James Potter? Potter fancied her??? It was a terrifying thought, mostly because it didn't terrify her. He was her friend, and she admitted, was far from looking like a toad. She supposed that the reason she wasn't screaming right now was because she knew James, and had learned to trust him.

Then Lily's logical side kicked in and she began to wonder if she should be feeling butterflies in her stomach, or a tingly sensation all over, because right now she felt nothing of the sort. Yes, her palms were sweaty, but she was in front of a blazing fire in full school uniform. Not exactly a universal sign of attraction.

The next thing in her mind was Dorcas Meadowes, to whom Lily had sworn that there was nothing between her and James. And just like that, she knew what she had to do.

"I'm sorry, James," she said softly, taking her hand out of his, "But, I just can't. I'm sorry."

James knew she was going to reject him, even before he told her. It was impossible for him to imagine her returning his feelings. He should have kept his fat mouth shut, he thought angrily.

Just then the fire in the hearth turned emerald green, and Professor Dumbledore's head, looking like a long bearded egg, appeared in the flames. Neither Lily nor James jumped, both being used to strange apparitions in fireplaces by now.

"Oh good, you're still up. I thought I might have missed you." His twinkling blue eyes looked up at Lily, "Miss Evans, I would be much obliged if you would floo to my office in a few moments, I need to discuss some frivolous matters with you."

It was apparent that Dumbledore had mixed up the words 'frivolous' and 'serious' in his mind.

"My back is already beginning to ache, so I shall get up now, and salvage my beard before it's reduced to ashes. Mr. Potter- this may take a while, so there's no need to await Miss Evans's return. You should get some rest ahead of tomorrow's Halloween feast, I hear it's going to be excellent."

"Okay, Professor."

"Good night, James. Please follow me in a moment, Lily," he requested, before vanishing with a pop. The flames returned to normal.

"I didn't think he'd want to talk to me so soon," Lily said, forgetting that there was now awkwardness between her and James.

"So am I going to wake up tomorrow and find Dumbledore looking at me funny? Are you going to tell him the 'glamour story'?" replied James rather stiffly.

Lily felt the discomfort now. "I don't know, I don't know what I'm going to tell him. I've got so much on my mind, I'd even forgotten that tomorrow is Halloween, and I love Halloween normally- "

"You'd better go."

"I know. Well, since I won't see you 'til the morning, Happy Halloween, James."

"You too."

Lily stepped up to the fireplace and took a little jar off the mantelpiece. She poured some floo powder into her hand and threw it into the fire, causing the flames to blaze bright green once more. She was about to step in when she paused and looked round at James.

"James, still friends?" she asked uncertainly.

James grinned. "You shouldn't have to ask. Of course we are. Now go, Lily, before he sends out a search party."

Lily smiled and rolled her eyes. She stepped into the fireplace and yelled, "Dumbledore's Office!" and with a whoosh she was gone.

Leaving James alone with his thoughts.

***

Lily landed gracefully out of the fire, and after brushing the soot and ash off her robes, she sat down in front of Dumbledore's desk. The headmaster was seated behind it in a large blue winged armchair, surveying Lily over his half-moon spectacles. She knew he was skilled in Legilimency, but when she had asked him about it once, Dumbledore had reassured her that under no circumstances would he probe into a student's mind without his or her permission and a very good reason.

"Lily, tell me about your back," he said calmly.

She tried to keep her face passive, deciding to stare at a rather large paper bag of sweets on the desk, as she answered. "I was practicing a glamour charm for Professor Flitwick in the bathroom in the Heads' dormitory, and James Potter happened to come across me and believed the injuries to be real, sir."

There was a pause.

"Do you know that your fall at the quidditch pitch in September wasn't an accident, Lily?"

Lily was stunned. "No, Professor, I didn't...how do you- ?"

"I have no proof, but if my suspicions are right, which they often are, Lord Voldemort tried to kill you."

"Voldemort? But- what has the war got to do with me? I'm not involved in it, I've done nothing to be targeted."

Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Your personality shines like a beacon, Lily. Your intelligence, integrity and courage, and particularly your blood, cause you stand out from the crowd. I believe you are being targeted because you are a Muggleborn and because you are also Head Girl of Hogwarts. Voldemort wishes to make an example of you."

Lily's forehead creased in thought. An example? But she asked something entirely different. "So - so someone did push me, then? Or at least forced me to fall?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely.

"Well, he didn't succeed," Lily said grimly, images of that Kreacher springing to mind. "I'm still here, Head Girl and Muggleborn to boot."

Dumbledore swallowed before he continued. "Lily, there's a very good chance- that Voldemort will try again. You are by no means his most important objective, but I'm afraid his abhorrence of me will impel him to see this to the end."

"Until I'm dead," she said shakily.

Dumbledore sighed.

"Steps have already been taken to ensure your safety, Lily," he said. "Sources tell me that tomorrow is the perfect time for Voldemort's followers to make another attempt on your life, so I have arranged for you to be sent home- "

Lily's blood ran cold.

"Pro- Professor, there, there's no need to send me home for just one day," she stammered, her heart slamming against her ribcage.

"I agree..."

Lily exhaled and visibly slumped in her seat, thanking every deity she had ever heard of.

"That is why you will return on Sunday evening rather than tomorrow."

Her mouth went dry. The dread that she'd believed she would never feel again gripped her, making her head spin and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She couldn't go back there. She wouldn't go back to that place.

"Professor Dumbledore," she managed to get out, "Please - I don't have to go home, I can just stay in my dorm all weekend, and James will bring meals up to me."

"A portrait isn't sufficient protection for you, Lily." Seeing her opening her mouth he added, "And neither is the Head Boy."

She began to panic. "But- but- what about m-my homework? How will I get it done, all - all my books are at Hogwarts."

"Your trunk had already been packed for you with all the necessary textbooks. If you are unable to complete an assignment, come to me on Sunday when you return and I will write a note to your subject professor."

Lily felt her hope slipping away, disappearing through her clenched fists like grains of sand... escaping, pouring through every crevice.

"I'm Head Girl!" she cried desperately, "What message will it send to the school if I run away?"

Dumbledore smiled, amused at her apparent pride. "It's not considered cowardice if the Headmaster tells you to run, Lily."

Her entire body was trembling. She was planning to make a break for it, and claim insanity later, when Dumbledore looked up from his watch and offered her a sweet.

"Sherbet lemon?" he asked, offering her the paper bag.

Lily mindlessly accepted it, and took a sweet, hoping it would overpower the taste of the bile now rising up at the back of her throat. Clutching the paper bag in her hands, Lily's mind buzzed with all the possible excuses to get out of this office, so that she could go somewhere and hide until tomorrow evening.

Pretend you're sick, she thought hysterically, go to the Hospital Wing. That wouldn't be too hard, as Lily was very sure that she was going to throw up on Dumbledore's carpet any second now.

She realised that the headmaster was murmuring under his breath, staring at his watch again. Lily looked up, straining to hear what he was saying.

"Twenty three, twenty two, twenty one...twenty. Nineteen, eighteen..."

"Professor Dumbledore," Lily pleaded, praying that it only made her sound more sickly, "I - I don't feel well. I think, I think I'm going to be sick!"

Dumbledore looked up in concern, "It's not caused by magic, is it?"

Lily was feeling an ache in her stomach now, and she clutched at it, still holding the paper bag. She shook her head, "No, I think - I don't know what it is. Not magical, though."

The headmaster seemed relieved. He returned to his watch.

"Seven, six, five, four..."

Lily opened her mouth to beg that she be allowed to go to Madam Pomfrey, and found that Dumbledore was already looking at her.

She felt a rough jerk from somewhere behind her navel. Then she was off in the whoosh of colour and sound, the sweet bag in her hands wrenching her along.

A second later her feet slammed violently into the ground sending shocks of pain up through her ankles and knees. Lily's eyes widened in terror as she took in the dim surroundings.

She was home.