The Lost Generation (1975-1982)

The Lost Generation

(1975-1982)

Chapter Ten

The Prophecy

Saturday, 11 February, 1978

Lily opened her eyes suddenly.

Where am I?

Then she remembered; she was in the common room, sitting on the window seat with James, watching the snow. But she hadn’t been watching for some time; she’d fallen asleep in his arms. What is this--the third time? she wondered, thinking of taking him up to her bed after Bonnie had died, and falling asleep on the train, after crying on him. It was nice to sleep with James, she thought. And although she really was thinking literally of sleeping, this made her think of what people usually meant when they spoke of people sleeping together, and she felt a shiver run through her. It was both odd to consider James that way, after so many years, and something that quickened her pulse, too. She turned her head just a little, to see if he was still asleep, and found him watching her lovingly, his blue eyes dark in the dimness of the pre-dawn, his pupils enlarged to the point where it seemed they were the same color as Severus’ or Sirius’.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he whispered to her, kissing her brow.

She smiled up at him. “Trying to make me conceited? If I’m ‘Sleeping Beauty,’ we’ll have to start calling Cecilia ‘Queen of the Universe.’”

He shook his head. “Nah. She can’t compare to you.”

Lily grinned. “I think you may be biased.”

His arms tightened around her. “Yes and no. I’m biased in your favor on any number of things you want to name. But I contend that this opinion is a fair and objective assessment.”

She turned to face him, putting her hand on his cheek. “You’re such a sweet-talker, it’s a wonder you haven’t had even more girlfriends than Sirius.”

He moved his face closer to hers. “I’m more selective than Sirius,” he whispered a millimeter from her lips, before brushing his mouth against hers; her lips felt even more sensitive than usual, and she slowly opened them very slightly, feeling him do the same. His tongue slowly traced her lips, making a tremor shiver through her, and finally, she couldn’t stand the teasing any more and opened her mouth wider, tilting her head to the right, her lips meeting his fully and their breaths co-mingled in what was now one cavity...

James couldn’t believe this was happening. This was Lily, kissing him passionately, returning his feelings, all of it. He remembered when he’d seen her on the hearth rug with Remus in fifth year, the way she’d thrown back her head in rapture, the sounds she’d made....

He drank her in, his hands laced in her hair to hold her head in place. At length, he drew back, kissing her lips tenderly and repeatedly as he did so, then trailing small kisses down her chin, under her chin, down that long column of white neck, into the V of her nightdress....

Lily’s breath hitched as his lips slid along her skin. She turned her head, finding his ear right near her mouth, so she breathed warmly into it, feeling the jolt move through him, making her feel--wonderful.

James James James.

She ached for him. She had had no trouble waiting for him; was it almost two months since she had last been with Severus? More like three, she thought, as they hadn’t slept together during the last month before he broke up with her. It might even have been four. She hadn’t kept track, and she hadn’t missed it, but suddenly, being with James like this...This was entirely different. There was always a certain element of guilt involved with Severus. He was a Slytherin. Her friends all hated him, and he hated them. And the times with Remus had, if possible, been worse; furtive and sometimes bordering on violent, never spoken of, a liaison never acknowledged.

She found his left hand and moved her fingers in his palm, then over the back, tracing over the skin, again and again, hearing a small groan in his throat in reaction to the sensation, even as he lavished more attention on her neck. Finally, getting up her nerve, she guided the hand to her chest and placed it gently over her right breast.

He froze for a second, feeling what she’d done, but he went on sucking on her neck, and now he also cupped her breast carefully through the fabric, moving his thumb slowly, feeling the tip harden under the repeated strokes, feeling her push her breast into his palm...

Lily gasped, wondering whether their relationship was going to see the quickest consummation in Hogwarts history. We’re not even going on our “date” until later, she thought. Although, she remembered ruefully, Remus and I never went on any dates at all...

He switched hands, and now her left breast was being held and caressed tenderly through her nightdress. She drew his mouth to hers again, and he didn’t protest. They drank each other in greedily, having waited almost seven years for each other. His left hand found her foot, then her calf, then he was drawing a soft line up her thigh, and her chest hitched with anticipation, but he merely continued to caress the soft skin on her thighs, over and over, until she thought she’d melt into a puddle from wanting him so much....

“James? Lily?”

They both jumped, and James fell backward off the window seat, onto the hard floor. They both looked up, finding Sirius standing at the foot of the stairs in his dressing gown, staring at them, his jaw open in shock.

“Er, I mean--I’ll leave you two alone now--”

He was gone again. Lily and James looked at each other, red-faced. Then a slow grin crept across James’ face as he regarded her, sitting on the window seat still, the rising sun behind her making her hair glow like an aura. “You’re amazing,” he whispered. She really was; Bonnie had seemed--dutiful. Like she thought a good girlfriend was supposed to do certain things for a good boyfriend, which James was. Lily didn’t seem to be going through the motions, fulfilling an obligation. He felt truly wanted, which he never had with Bonnie.

Lily was, however, nothing if not practical. She looked nervously at the doorway to the boys’ stairs. “Oh, god. Was that incredibly gauche of us? I mean--I just told him yesterday that--I mean, it was practically like breaking up with him, even though we never--”

James looked at her quizzically. “Why did you consider going out with him, Lily? I thought you’d gotten over him.”

She reddened again and looked down at her hands. “I was frightened, and I’m ashamed that I was so cowardly. I very quickly saw the light. It was--a reaction. A fearful reaction to the possibility of--of being in a relationship that--” She stopped short, not sure they were ready to have this conversation yet.

But James thought he knew what she meant. “It’s okay, Lily. I think, in a way, that that’s what I did with Bonnie. That’s why I was rather taken aback by her talking about children and all. I wasn’t dating her because I thought we were eventually going to settle down and get married. She did think that.”

Lily definitely thought it wasn’t the time to tell him what she’d told Sirius, about how she thought of him as the sort of man that you married. How to make your new boyfriend run screaming away from you at top speed, she thought. Especially when his old girlfriend did essentially the same thing.

She tried to force a laugh. “At any rate, this really isn’t the most private place in the world, especially as the sun is coming up and people are getting out of bed and moving about.”

James nodded. “And Sirius has a nasty habit of changing into his you-know-what form and using his highly-sensitive hearing to EAVESDROP ON PEOPLE!” James bellowed suddenly, getting up and going to the doorway of the stairs to the boys’ dorms. A large black dog came barreling down the stairs and leapt on him, knocking him onto his back. Lily gasped when he changed back into his human form, sitting on James’ legs and holding his hands over his ears.

“What the hell are you trying to do, Potter? Make me go deaf?”

But then Lily and James were laughing uproariously. “Serves you right,” James said, pushing Sirius off him and standing. Lily was shaking her head.

“Do you really think you--you should do that here? In case someone sees you?”

Sirius smiled at her. “Everyone else is still in bed. But you know, Lily, it’s nice that you know. James told me that he told you. I don’t--I mean--I’m glad that we don’t have secrets from you anymore,” he said softly, looking into her eyes. Lily felt a pang of guilt; she had let him think she was truly interested in him again, when it was merely panic that had driven her to consider dating him.

“I may be the Head Girl,” she said quietly, “but I know how to keep a secret.”

She stood and walked to James and put her hands on his arms. “You should go up and change your clothes. I’m going upstairs to change into some warm things for the sleigh ride.”

James looked down appreciatively at her thin nightdress; her dressing gown was open over it. “Must you?” he asked, a hitch in his voice and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Suddenly, he moved to the side jerkily; Sirius had pulled on his arm, hauling him toward the stairs.

“Come on, you. Don’t you know it’s rude to undress your date with your eyes before you even arrive to pick her up? Not to mention you’ve already done your end-of-date snogging. Everything out of order! What am I going to do with you, Potter?” she heard, as they disappeared up the stairs. She couldn’t help laughing and shaking her head as she went to the girls’ stairs. Somehow, she knew that Sirius was going to be all right. He was on their side and clearly didn’t hold against either one of them that he wasn’t her new boyfriend.

When she was dressed in two jumpers and some thick corduroy trousers, over which she’d buttoned winter wizarding robes and a heavy grey wool winter cloak, she went back down to the common room, finding James waiting for her. He hugged her tightly and she also wrapped her arms around him; he seemed to be wearing just a jumper and trousers with wizarding robes. As he embraced her, he patted her back tentatively. “Are you in there, somewhere?” He seemed stymied by the many layers.

She backed up and stuck her tongue out at him. “Very funny.”

His facial expression changed drastically. He gazed at her with a funny look about the eyes. “Do that again,” he breathed.

“What?” She frowned.

“Stick out your tongue...”

She dropped her jaw in mock horror. “James Potter! I’m surprised at you.”

He drew her to him again. “Surprises are good,” he said simply, lowering his mouth to hers. She responded for a split second before she remembered that there were other people in the common room now. She pulled back and looked around, seeing the shocked expressions on the faces of at least half the students in Gryffindor House. The Head Girl and Head Boy were kissing. Then, even more surprising to her, a round of applause suddenly went up from everyone gathered. Some of the other students were standing on the furniture, whistling while they clapped. She felt a heat rise from her neck, and James grinned down at her.

“You’re a devil,” she whispered to him.

Grinning down at her, he said, “Yes, but I’m the devil you know.”

She laughed at that, and they all left the common room to eat breakfast and enjoy a morning of sleighing in the soft new fallen snow.

* * * * *

The sleigh ride with James was completely different from the sleigh ride with Sirius. She snuggled down under a blanket that he’d tucked around both of them, he whistled to the horseless sleigh to move, and soon they were gliding across the snow along with the rest of the students. The high sides of the sleigh hid them from the view of anyone who wasn’t looking at them head on, and almost immediately, James looked down at her lovingly and leaned in for a kiss. She responded, his hands on her back and her arms around his neck. She wished she hadn’t dressed quite so warmly; she felt like James was raising her internal temperature to the point where she could have gone out in her underwear and still not feel the cold.

At length, they brought the sleigh to a stop behind Hagrid’s hut and remained there for a while, kissing, before a snowball landed on top of James’ head, making him kneel and look over the back of the sleigh, to see who had thrown it. They saw no one, but after he was sitting and facing forward again, James looked at the snow behind the hut with narrowed eyes; two sets of footprints were being created in the snow by unseen persons.

He put his finger to his lips to keep Lily silent, then slowly pulled out his wand, keeping it hidden under the blanket draped across their laps. The footprints were coming nearer; suddenly, James pulled his wand out from the blanket and pointed it, crying, “Accio Invisibility Cloak!”

The silvery cloth went flying through the air into his hands, and Remus and Sirius were immediately revealed. However, they were poised with snowballs in their hands, and immediately began throwing them. James stuffed the cloak down under the blanket and began to wave his wand at the snow around them. A cloud of snowballs rose up and began pelting Remus and Sirius, and they looked so comical trying to avoid them, Lily couldn’t help but laugh; soon she was laughing so hard there were tears streaming down her cheeks.

She and James left the shelter of the sleigh and were soon running about in the snow like their two ambushers, sometimes making and throwing snowballs by hand, sometimes using magic. And then Peter leapt out from around the corner of Hagrid’s hut and joined in the fray. After a time, they were all breathless, lying on the snowy ground, smiling at each other, and Lily couldn’t think of a time in her life when she’d been happier. She had James, she had good friends, and she had a new snowfall. For now, that was enough.

* * * * *

Tuesday, 14 February, 1978

“For he’s a jolly good fe-eh-low! And so say all of us!”

Charlie grinned at his brother and friends and stood up to lean over the cake his mother had sent in the post, blowing out the twelve candles on the chocolate frosting. Hagrid’s voice had boomed over all the rest during the singing, and now he slapped Charlie on the back so hard he almost wound up with his face in the cake (or with a couple of candles in his eyes).

Hagrid’s small abode was cheerful and warm on this winter’s day, filled as it was with both Bill and Charlie’s friends and colorful streamers and the brightly wrapped presents waiting in a pile for Charlie to unwrap. A huge log crackled merrily in the oversized fireplace and Hagrid’s oil lamps were sending a comforting glow into the single room.

The candles were removed and the cake sliced up, and soon the only sounds were moans of delight as they all devoured Molly Weasley’s delicious handiwork. When he was finished, Hagrid held his hand before his mouth, his burp echoing throughout the room despite this, and said, “Blimey! I should take up bakin’. Be brilliant to be able to make sommat like that whenever I please...”

“You shudd, ‘Agrid, you definite’y shudd,” Charlie agreed, his mouth full. He swallowed and said, “The house smells fantastic when Mum’s baking, too.”

“Well! That settles it, then. I have me a new hobby,” Hagrid decided, helping himself to more cake. Suddenly, the door of the cabin flew open, and five more bodies tried to cram themselves into the room.

“Surprise!” yelled Sirius Black and James Potter. Bill laughed.

“This wasn’t a surprise party,” he told them. “But have some cake; there’s plenty.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Sirius said, accepting a large wedge.

“We knew it wasn’t a surprise party,” Lily said, taking a wrapped package from Remus and Peter that they’d been carrying. “The surprise is this.”

She placed before Charlie something long, bound with brown paper and string. Something in the unmistakable shape of a broom. Charlie lifted awed eyes to the five seventh-years.

“Gosh! You don’t mean it! I mean--I’ve been saving my pocket money, hoping I might be able to get a broom later this year, before September--”

James laughed. “What, when you’ve got this one right here? I just wish you could have been on the team this year. We could have used you.”

Charlie shrugged. “Can’t. First year. Which means--I can’t even have this broom, can I? I mean--it is a broom?”

“Open it, you git!” Remus grinned at him, and Charlie lost no time in tearing the paper apart. A gleaming new Comet sat in the torn wrappings; Charlie gazed rapturously at it, speechless.

“And no, technically you can’t own that, as a first year. However...if it’s kept here at Hagrid’s...”

Bill stepped up to admire it. “And you have to let me try it, of course,” he said, grinning at his brother. “And I’ll pack it with my things when we go home for Easter. It’ll be brilliant, having this to fly around the orchard at home, won’t it?”

Charlie nodded, still without words, his eyes never leaving the broom. Bill had known all along about the seventh-years’ plan; James Potter had been woefully disappointed that he couldn’t have Charlie on the Gryffindor team after he saw him flying rings around the other first years in flying class (as Head Boy, he’d substituted for Madam Hooch when she was under the weather for a few days). He’d never seen a natural flyer quite like Charlie, and when another student had dropped a pet toad out of his pocket during a flying mishap wherein the other boy wound up clinging to his broom upside down, Charlie had swooped under him immediately, catching the poor toad before it met an untimely death a hundred feet below. James had started lobbing small stones at Charlie (“For fun,” he’d said.), charmed to float to the ground slowly, like Quaffles, and he was itching to try Charlie with an actual Snitch. No matter what, Charlie had the falling object in question in his clutches in moments, it seemed. It appeared utterly effortless for him, which James knew was the mark of a born Seeker. Unfortunately, he already had a Seeker for the Gryffindor team, and while she wasn’t too bad, she made James’ stomach leap about with constant worry during matches. He wanted someone who was more of a sure thing, someone like Charlie Weasley. But until he reached second year, Charlie was ineligible, so it probably wasn’t even worth asking McGonagall for permission to bend the rules a bit....

Bill grinned at James Potter now, gratified to see that he smiled back. He’d been so relieved when James had approached him, after finding out about the party planned for Charlie, and asked whether he thought Charlie might like a broom, to get ready for being on the Gryffindor team the next year.

“And,” James had also said, “I don’t think you grassed on us that time. I’m fairly sure it was Snape or Karkaroff.” He looked contritely at the younger boy. “Sorry we all came down on you a bit.”

Bill drew his mouth into a line to hide his emotions; he didn’t want the older boy to think he was going to fall apart because he’d received an apology. “That’s okay,” he said stoically. “Thanks.”

James nodded at him; he felt Weasley was all right, and his brother, too. Good, solid Gryffindor material. And even though Bill knew about Remus being a werewolf, he hadn’t told anyone. That just didn’t seem like something he would do if he’d ratted on them. Plus, Lily had told him that he’d better apologize to Bill and stop treating him like a pariah. But he didn’t tell Bill that. Sirius was already starting to call him hen-pecked. It wasn’t that so much as he trusted Lily’s judgment more than his own on certain things. After he’d apologized, he knew she was right about Weasley.

The party started to draw to a close, and Bill and the other third years took responsibility for the clearing-up. While Alex Wood and Geoff Davies threw wrapping paper into the fire and Jack Richards and Mary Ann Boxwood swept the crumbs off Hagrid’s huge table, Bill waved his wand to move the plates into Hagrid’s stone sink, and Juliet Hathaway heated some water that was in the pitcher on the shelf and then caused it to pour over the dirty dishes. She grinned at Bill, and he looked happily back at her. For once Wallis wasn’t around. Lily glanced at James before they left, then gestured to Bill and Juliet with a sly smile and a nod of her head before taking his hand and leading him outside. Remus, Sirius and Peter had already left for the castle.

After they’d closed Hagrid’s door, James pulled Lily into a deep kiss. When she broke it, she leaned her forehead on James’ chin, a secret smile pulling at her mouth.

“Aren’t they cute together?” she whispered.

“Weasley and Hathaway? And he’s only fancied her for--what? A year or two? Moves fast, he does.”

“Oh, you,” she said, hitting his shoulder lightly. “You should talk.”

He held her more tightly. “What? I’ve got you now, haven’t I?”

“Not completely,” she breathed against his mouth. “Not yet,” she added, before pulling his mouth down to hers again. She could feel the tenseness move through his body as he processed her words. When he pulled his mouth away from hers slowly, she was looking up at him with an expression that made her meaning abundantly clear.

“How about Saturday night?” he asked, hardly able to get the words out. “I--I know a good place. Private. Comfortable...”

She nodded, looking down at the clasp on his cloak. Her chest felt tight with wanting him; she looked up at his dear, dear face, hardly daring to think about how much she loved him, how happy she was that they’d finally found their way to each other. “I trust you,” she said simply, not knowing how affecting those simple words were to him.

I trust you.

He couldn’t ever remember anyone having such simple, unfettered faith in him before. Even his best friends, when they’d been learning to be Animagi, had constantly bombarded him with questions and doubts. If Remus bit them when they were in animal form, would they really be safe? Could they hold their animal forms, guaranteed, without reverting to their human forms if Remus scared them or otherwise made them lose concentration in some way? They’d all been in it together, but when doubts were felt, they were expressed, not held in. They trusted each other for the most part, but they also each had an inherent skepticism that was healthy, in that it had protected them all thus far.

But Lily--her simple I trust you, crept into his heart and made him feel that he must never, ever do anything to violate that trust. He kissed her soundly, then, arms wrapped around each other, they walked back to the castle in the soft snow, each looking forward to the weekend.

* * * * *

Saturday, 18 February, 1978

“Where are we going?” Lily whispered. They were walking through the corridors under James’ Invisibility Cloak; it was nearly midnight, and Lily had a jumpy feeling in her stomach. Here’s the Head Girl, sneaking out late at night again. With the Head Boy, this time. She was glad of James’ cloak, but she was still a bit nervous about Filch. She had never liked him--but then, she didn’t know of a single student who felt the opposite....

“We’re here,” James whispered. They were standing before a tapestry, which James was lifting out of the way now, revealing a stone wall.

“Amanuensis,” he said softly, and the stones dissolved, revealing an opening in the wall through which they crept. Lily started to remove the cloak from them, but he stopped her. “Not yet,” he breathed against her ear. She shook from head to toe when he did this, then looked at him in the torchlight filtering through the cloak; his eyes were dark with passion.

She nodded, since he clearly knew what he was doing, and, his arm around her waist, he guided them down a torch-lit corridor with doors on either side, every twenty or thirty feet. They made a few turnings before he came to the door he wanted. He took out his wand and said quietly, “Alohomora!”

The door swung open slowly, and they pushed it open more, closing it firmly behind them. Lily heard James put a locking charm on it, and then a silencing charm. She turned to gaze at the room; it was dim in the moonlight from the windows, there were sheets draped over the furniture as though it hadn’t been used in a very long time. There were clearly cobwebs to be seen on the chandelier hanging above the middle of the room, on the andirons standing before the firebox, and connecting some of the furniture.

James removed the cloak from them now and waved his wand at some torches on the wall, and then at the fire. Flames sprung up, but they merely served to illumine the room’s air of shabby desolation. Lily raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just give us a sec,” he said quickly.

“Us?” Lily said, starting to smile.

James shrugged. “Mum always said that. Dad teased her about it. Like the royal ‘we.’”

Lily swallowed, remembering afresh his grief over his parents’ deaths. “They loved each other very much, didn’t they?”

He nodded, gazing at her, then turned and waved his wand again, saying, “Finite incantatem.”

And then Lily saw what a sort of shielding charm or illusion charm had kept her from seeing before: the room as it really was. The air before her seemed to shimmer and dance for a few moments, and then she saw a table with two chairs before the fire, laid with pristine white cloth, and a scrumptious chocolate mousse waiting to be eaten. A music box was playing her favorite tune (Für Elise) while the firelight played over the lush carpet in front of the hearth, and over the beautiful carved furniture, including a huge four-poster bed in the corner with deep purple damask hangings and a matching coverlet. There wasn’t a cobweb in sight, nor a white sheet. She turned to James and laughed.

“Tried to make me think you’d brought me to some dreadful place, did you?” She couldn’t stop smiling if she’d wanted to. He took her in his arms.

“If I had, would you have stayed?”

She nodded. “This is nice, but in a way, it doesn’t really matter. It’s you I want to be with, not a pile of furniture. But--where are we, anyway? I’ve definitely never been in this part of the castle.”

“It’s the staff wing. No one’s been using these rooms for ages. I snuck in here in my Invisibility Cloak to fix it up, and then I put the charm on it yesterday to make it still look disused, just in case someone came in here anyway. The Invisibility Cloak was also useful for finding the staff wing in the first place, not to mention lurking near the entrance, to hear one of the teachers saying the password to enter...”

He trailed off, suddenly unable to remember what he’d been talking about. All he could do was gaze into Lily’s eyes, her beautiful green eyes, and tilt her head up to his for a kiss. He wasn’t certain how long they’d been kissing when Lily pulled back from him, then took his hand and walked slowly toward the bed. He followed her, shaking. This is actually going to happen. I’m with Lily. Me. James Potter. Lily Evans. What’s wrong with this picture? he thought.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked him, turning, her fingers doing something down his front.

“You,” he whispered. Even though he knew no one could hear them, he felt like whispering. “I’m just--I can’t believe we’re here. The two of us. I can’t believe you want to be with me.”

She shook her head at him. “Silly James. We’ve hardly been apart for the past week. You didn’t think I’ve wanted to be with you?” she laughed. “Could you ever before imagine me, in the corner of the common room, kissing a boy while sitting on his lap in an armchair?” She blushed to think of it. She and James had been together in the common room every spare moment since the sleigh ride. Sirius had sometimes thrown cushions at them and told them to get a room (with a slightly disturbed look behind his eyes). And even though they’d turned the chair to face the corner, more than once when she’d stood and emerged from their lair, she’d been greeted with whistles and catcalls and cries of, “Good going, Potter!” And she’d borne it with just a bit of blushing, unable to reprimand or take house points or give detentions because she was just too happy. She hadn’t known she would feel this way, like nothing else mattered in the world.... “I can’t believe you want to be with me,” she told him, pushing his robes from his shoulders; they felt to the floor behind him.

Oh, he thought. She was unbuttoning my robes. He felt mentally deficient suddenly, unable to remember what he should do next. Then his fingers seemed to be moving of their own accord, a sensory memory that evidently lived in his digits, not in his brain. When her robes were unbuttoned and also in a puddle on the floor, she took one of his fingers and drew it into her mouth, gazing up at him with those eyes....

He drew in his breath, wishing he’d learnt a spell for removing all of their clothes more efficiently, but Lily seemed intent on a leisurely pace, so he went along with her, as she unbuttoned his shirt and drew it off his arms, and he unbuttoned her blouse. When she was standing before him, clad only in her bra from the waist up, he remembered her in the pool at Ascog, and started to wonder whether he’d be able to keep up the leisurely pace....

She kissed his chest while working at his trouser fastenings with her hands, and his stomach clenched, remembering the way Bonnie had recoiled at the reality of his sex. She’d actually looked like she was going to retch the first time, and he waited apprehensively for Lily’s reaction. She drew his trousers down and helped him step out of them, and he grew more and more anxious, as the evidence of his desire for her was unmistakable now, straining against his drawers.

She smiled up at him, then stood. “Well,” she said against his chest, her tongue reaching out suddenly to lap at his nipple. “I won’t ask you whether you’re sure about this. You seem pretty sure to me,” she joked softly, still smiling. James was shocked, and his face must have shown it. Now she looked alarmed. “What’s wrong? Oh, god, you--you must think I’m--that I’m a--”

She turned away from him, her face crumpling, and sat on the edge of the bed, tears falling down her cheeks and dripping from the end of her nose. James was baffled. “I wish I could turn back the clock, I really do. You probably would like for me to be a virgin,” she sobbed; “a blushing little virgin who’s never been with anyone else. I’m sorry, James, but that’s not who I am....And I know about plenty of girls here who’ve been around a lot more than I have, so good luck finding your little innocent--”

“Lily!” he said, interrupting her, his eyes wide, not having expected this reaction. “What are you going on about? Hell, I’m glad you have more experience than me! I don’t--I don’t think I probably knew what the hell I was doing with Bonnie, frankly, and it wasn’t as though she ever let me figure things out. She always wanted everything to be over with quickly. I feel like a complete dunce about this sort of thing, and I was hoping that--that you’d help me out a bit when it comes to--to what you like. I don’t give a damn that I’m not the first bloke you’ve ever been with, Lily. I just hope--” he paused, swallowing. “I just--I hope that I’m the last--” he finished softly. Her eyes widened as his meaning sank in.

“Oh, James,” she said simply, standing and sliding her arms up around his neck. The bare skin of their stomachs met, and James couldn’t believe the warmth emanating from her body as she pressed against him. Their mouths were fused together, they were drinking each other in hungrily. The rest of the clothing removal went rather quickly after that, and soon they were lying on the bed, side-by-side, nothing to hide from each other any longer.

He tried to let go of his expectations, forget his earlier disappointing sexual experiences, just revel in her body and her reactions, and to enjoy the unfamiliar sensation of her willingly moving her hands and mouth over him, trying to arouse him (not that he needed much help), which was new and different and wonderful. He was sometimes more tentative than she wanted him to be, he could tell, and he tried to move past this, shed his doubts. He tried not to expect the reprimand that he’d received from Bonnie when he’d moved his mouth down her body and tried to make her feel as good as she made him feel. Instead, Lily gently took his hands in hers and guided him to the place he sought, then gasped and threw her head back, moaning continuously when he’d found it, and when she finally shuddered all over and cried out his name repeatedly, he felt incredibly powerful and like the luckiest man in the world.

He moved up her body again, kissing everything along the way, and when he reached her mouth, she surprised him by pulling him down hungrily, her tongue tracing his lower teeth, her hands moving down his body, until she curled her fingers around him and made his head reel. He felt her legs wrapping around him even as she continued to move her hand, and then there was no Lily and no James, but a new person, one being consisting of pleasure, of firelight lapping at rosy-hued skin, and rocking hips and kisses and finally, of molten pleasure that rolled through them both indiscriminately, leaving them tired but sated and thoroughly at peace.

Lily felt too warm to be under the coverlet; she lay with her head on James’ chest, her leg thrown over his hip, her lips idly kissing his chest occasionally. She felt lazy and indolent and utterly content. James stroked her hair, then followed the line of it down her back and tentatively brushed his fingers along the curves of her lovely bottom. She snuggled closer to him, a small sigh telling him the caresses were welcome, and he kept on, wanting to hear her make that little noise of approval again.

“We still have chocolate mousse, remember,” he whispered to her after a while as she traced the palm of his left hand with her fingertip.

“Hmm,” she murmured contentedly. “I wonder how you would taste with chocolate mousse...” She smiled against his chest as he groaned from the implication her words carried, and she laughed, tickling his ribs mercilessly, just where she knew he was most sensitive.

“You little--” he started to say, laughing, tickling her back. Soon he had her on her back, screaming for mercy as he pinned her legs between his and moved his hands over her ribs. But then they both sobered and he moved his hands up to her breasts instead, cupping them in his hands, feeling the tips harden....

Eventually, he put his hands on either side of her and leaned down to kiss her, growing aroused again. Just before his mouth made contact with hers, she spoke softly to him, her eyes full of love and desire.

“I wasn’t kidding about the chocolate mousse.”

* * * * *

Wednesday, 5 April, 1978

Lily walked into the Leaky Cauldron, her heart thrumming with anticipation. She had to promise to be home by six, so she could celebrate her birthday with her family, but James was taking her shopping in Diagon Alley and then to lunch anywhere she wanted to go in Muggle London. She had been floored.

“You mean a real restaurant, with--”

“--real waiters, and no floating food or puddings that make faces at you before you eat them or elves clearing the table between courses--”

She had laughed. Sometimes she did miss the way things were done in the Muggle world. The one person to whom she would never admit this, of course, was her sister, as Petunia would point and say, “Aha! Even you think they’re freaks!”

Recently, Petunia seemed to reconsider her position on magic very slightly. She had started bombarding Lily with questions while they were waiting at the hospital for their mum to come out of her chemotherapy treatments. This was not exactly the way Lily had envisioned spending her Easter holiday: trapped with her sister and brother-in-law in a hospital lounge. Although, given the way her Christmas holiday had gone, perhaps she should have expected it.

“Didn’t you say once that--the sort of people at your school--” Petunia had said furtively, looking around at the other people in the lounge; “--live longer than--other types of people?”

Lily had swallowed and answered cautiously, “Yehss--” wondering, Where is this going?

“--and they have certain treatments that other people do not?” Lily made a noncommittal noise, not looking at her sister, but at the magazine she was reading.

“So couldn’t you probably, you know,” Petunia said, dropping her voice still more, “do something about Mum’s situation?”

Lily grimaced at Petunia’s ignorance. “Not me personally, no. I don’t have the proper training. There’s a particular hospital where training for that sort of medicine takes place. And it doesn’t take--patients like Mum--” she whispered back to her sister.

Now Lily glanced with distaste at her brother-in-law, sitting next to Petunia. Vernon Dursley was looking very much like his father these days; he had recently taken over the Grunnings drill plant from the old man and Petunia was no longer working as his secretary but staying at home, ‘keeping house,’ as she put it, which Lily strongly suspected consisted in large part of gossiping about her neighbors. Petunia had found Vernon a competent young man to be his clerk, rather than a young woman. Lily shuddered to think of the screening process; Petunia had personally taken in hand the task of finding her replacement. No twenty-year-old would-be models with long blonde hair and legs all the way down to the floor, not for her Vernon. Petunia did not want competition. Lily had been biting her tongue painfully; she had shown remarkable restraint in not telling her sister that Vernon Dursley was the last man in the world who was going to be pursued by supermodels (who would not be caught dead clerking at the Grunnings drill plant in Surrey).

Petunia had turned up her nose at Lily upon hearing her cryptic answer to Petunia’s cryptic question, and muttered, not for the last time, “Freaks. Every last one of you...”

Lily entered Diagon Alley from the yard behind the pub and worked her way toward the bookstore, where James was meeting her. She was a few minutes early and she had an enjoyable time window shopping on the way to Flourish & Blotts. Then, while standing outside the apothecary, admiring a set of solid gold weights with intricate etchings, something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. It was just a flick of a robe; a second later, it was gone. Lily turned slowly, still pretending to be checking something in the window of the shop; the apothecary had a bay window for display at the front, and standing to the side of it now, looking in one of the angled windows, Lily saw the man who had ducked out of sight down a narrow passage between two shops on the other side of the alley. She didn’t see him directly; he didn’t seem to realize that she could see him reflected in the glass before her. He was in a hooded cloak and what was unmistakably a mask. She drew in her breath. Was he a Death Eater? Was he about to do something dreadful?

She felt uneasy about the person being behind her, and started to snake her hand into her cloak pocket, reaching for her wand. Since her seventeenth birthday, she always had her wand with her in the wizarding world. Holding it down at her side, the wand hidden in the folds of her cloak, she turned her left side ever so slightly toward the lurking, masked man, and suddenly, she saw that he was looking at a large auburn-haired man standing abnormally still before the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. From his hiding place, the masked man was raising his wand, she saw, and pointing it at the auburn-haired man. She caught this in the angled shop window; she wasn’t looking directly at him, so he evidently didn’t think anyone had noticed him.

She stopped watching the masked man now and strode forward purposefully, greeting the targeted man with a hug and tugging him away from where he would still have been in the masked man’s line of sight.

“There you are!” she cried with mock enthusiasm, as though she knew him. “What took you so long?”

The man looked flustered and not a little annoyed. “What the hell?” he said, frowning, just as red sparks hit the window of the Quidditch supplies store, exactly where he’d been standing a moment before. He looked very alert suddenly, and pulled out his wand.

The masked wizard jumped out from the niche where he’d been hiding and aimed at the auburn-haired man again, but Lily raised her wand and cried, “Stupefy!”

Her spell hit him squarely and he toppled over, but then another person whom she hadn’t noticed before turned toward them; he’d been feigning interest in the window of a shop selling second-hand robes. He aimed at the auburn-haired man, too, and this time he was prepared, sending a spell into the air with amazing precision. It exactly intercepted the line of crackling light heading toward him, making it deflect and bounce off of some cauldrons sitting before a shop. While he used his right hand for this, he used his left hand to pull Lily behind him, which she was finding rather annoying as she had already stunned one of his attackers. He had grabbed her right arm to do this and she struggled to free her wand arm as he focused on the remaining Death Eater, beginning to pronounce the spell to stun him. Suddenly, with a pop, the second attacker was gone, and the shoppers in the vicinity, looking askance in their direction, muttered to themselves as they went on with their shopping, cynical and jaded in this age of Voldemort. The first man still laid on the cobblestones, stunned. Shoppers were stepping over him, unconcerned.

Lily had finally managed to shake off the hand he had wrapped around her upper arm, and was faced with a rather irate-looking man in his mid-twenties.

“Thanks a lot!” he said, frowning at her. “Thanks to you--”

“--you’re still alive and in one piece!” she finished for him. He did not yet put his wand away.

“I was going to say, you screwed up everything!” he responded, turning a bit red in the face.

“Well, he wouldn’t have gotten away if you hadn’t dragged me behind you!” she answered his accusation hotly. “I could have stunned him while he was aiming at you!”

“When I need the help of a civilian, I’ll let you know!” he practically growled at her, looking critically at her robes, which were open over her Muggle skirt and blouse. “And a Muggle-born one at that, by the look of you.”

Lily bristled. “If you’re an Auror--”

“Sssh!” he said, putting his hand over her mouth. “Shut up!” he hissed at her, dragging her into the bookshop and down aisle after narrow aisle, finally ending up near the back of the shop, where they were surrounded by dusty stacks that appeared to have been untouched for decades.

She extracted her wrist from his clutches, rubbing it (although she was mostly indignant, not really in pain) and glaring at him. Positioning himself against the wall and looking warily down the aisle, he said out of the corner of his mouth, “Yeah, I’m an Auror. I was trying to bring those two out into the open and make them think I wanted to capture them. We knew that they were given an assignment--to capture me and get certain information from me. It was all a plant, a set up. I was supposed to let myself get captured, so I could give them some bad information after letting them torture me for a while. And then you had to go and ‘save’ me...”

Her jaw dropped. “Well--well why couldn’t you still have let yourself be taken, if that was the plan?” She was shocked that the plan included his intention to be tortured.

He sighed. “Because a civilian became involved. They could have taken you at the same time as me. Then it would have been you they would have tortured to get me to talk. I’ll put myself in that position, but not another person, especially a civilian. And I didn’t want you to get hurt trying to do something heroic to save me, either. By the way, he could have had a clean shot at you when you hugged me back there. Not too bright.”

She shrugged. “I knew I wasn’t his target. I could see that you were. And forgive me if I don’t normally think of that as a good thing.”

He started to say something, then changed his mind and said something else. “Wait--how did you know he was targeting me?”

“I saw his reflection in the apothecary’s window. He didn’t know he’d been seen because I wasn’t facing him. And I think that unless you’re standing in a very specific spot, the place where he was hiding can’t be seen very well. One of the few ways to see where he was is by looking at the reflections in that one side of the shop window...”

He nodded. “Right, right.” He looked at her shrewdly now, evidently not angry with her anymore. She regarded him carefully too.

“You look familiar...” she said slowly. “Are you allowed to tell me your name? When did you finish Hogwarts?”

He evidently hadn’t forgotten all of his manners and extended his hand to her now. “Sam Bell. I finished in seventy-two.”

“Ooooh!” she said slowly now. “That’s why you look familiar. You were the seventh year prefect when I was a first year. In Gryffindor, that is, obviously...” she added, feeling foolish.

He squinted at her and shook his head. “And you are--”

“Lily Evans,” she said quietly, not expecting him to remember. But his face lit up now with recognition.

“You’re Lily Evans? But you were this little skinny--”

She smirked. “Thanks ever so much.”

He had the good grace to redden. “Sorry. I’m being very rude. I just--well, you’ve changed rather a lot, haven’t you?” Lily was surprised by how boldly his eyes raked over her. She wondered whether he was a bit of a rogue with women or just not very well-versed in manners.

“That will happen between the ages of eleven and eighteen,” she informed him archly. He looked more friendly now and gave her a sunny grin that made it very hard to remain angry with him.

“Good point,” he conceded. “I heard you were made Head Girl. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she answered, having been more comfortable with the slightly antagonistic Sam Bell than she was with the friendly version. She remembered that he was six years older than her, and that they were standing in the back of Flourish & Blotts, hidden in a stack of moldering old books well away from any of the other shop patrons. She felt very self-conscious about this suddenly.

“And isn’t Potter Head Boy now? I couldn’t believe that when I heard it. Potter! That little scrawny--”

“--boyfriend of the girl you’ve decided to corner in the back of the bookshop,” came a familiar voice to Lily’s left. She turned and saw with relief that James was striding toward them, his robes billowing out behind him, and, she was gratified to see, looking distinctly non-scrawny.

Sam Bell looking unflatteringly flabbergasted. “Potter! Well I’ll be--how are you?”

“Fine. And you are--?”

“Erm,” Lily jumped in, trying to sound as natural as possible. “You remember Sam Bell, don’t you, James? Seventh year when we were in first?”

James Potter stood looking at Sam Bell appraisingly. Lily could see that Sam recognized James’ attitude as hostile and just a bit jealous. Sam grinned ingratiatingly at him and extended his hand. James took it, reluctantly.

“I hear you’re Head Boy, now. And Quidditch captain. I was captain my seventh year. Prefect, too, but not Head Boy.”

James disconnected his hand after they shook. “Yeah, Quidditch captain,” he echoed, still eyeing Sam hostilely.

“Erm,” Sam said awkwardly, “listen. Don’t really have time to catch up right now. Nice to run into you both. Ta.”

And then, with a soft pop! he was gone. James looked at Lily with a raised eyebrow.

“And why were you back here with him?” he wanted to know. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

“I’ll tell you over lunch. It’s probably best discussed once we’re well away from other wizards.”

So when they were eating her birthday lunch at the Ritz, she explained to him about Sam being an Auror and “saving” him. She didn’t mention that he’d been trying to get captured; somehow, something in her made her glance around and think security nightmare as she considered what to tell James. She didn’t think of it as lying to him, but protecting him (and Sam).

James looked a little disgruntled. “Well, I hope he thanked you properly. What’s the world coming to when an eighteen-year-old girl has to save an Auror’s arse!”

“Sssh!” Lily said quickly, looking around at the Muggle patrons of the restaurant. “Watch what you say here,” she said, sotto voce, her eyes shifting around. James laughed.

“You’re acting like you’re some kind of spy now, Lily,” he said, smirking, as though this was the most ridiculous idea in the world. But Lily remembered Sam asking her how she’d known he was under attack, and the impressed tone in his voice after she’d told him. Was it so ridiculous? she thought. She still hadn’t figured out what she was going to do after she left school. Perhaps she had something she should consider now....

“What are you thinking?” he asked her cheerfully, taking a sip of water. She bit her lip, wondering whether she should tell him. Lily Evans, Auror.

Instead, she decided to change the subject. “Come with me tonight,” she said suddenly.

“What?”

“You--you’ve never met my parents. Oh, do come. Petunia won’t be there. You know her; she claims she has a prior engagement. So it’ll be just me and Mum and Dad. I want them to meet you. To--to like you,” she finished softly. James’ eyes opened very wide and he took another sip of water.

“All--all right,” he said swallowing. She smiled at him, knowing that he was no longer thinking about Aurors but instead busy panicking about meeting her parents. It was sneaky of her, to distract him this way, and yet--she really did want him to meet them. And vice versa. She looked at James again as she ate her lunch. She had meant what she’d said to Sirius about James, and she felt like this was another step in her future being finalized. Lily felt a trifle overwhelmed for a moment; in one day, she’d decided that she just might want to be an Auror and had taken another step toward James being part of her family. It was a landmark birthday indeed.

* * * * *

Friday, 2 June, 1978

“That was brilliant,” Jack said as he and Geoff left their Transfiguration exam. Bill and Alex were waiting for them in the corridor. The two Gryffindors fell into step beside their Hufflepuff friends as they strode down the corridor, anxiously awaiting the news.

“So? It went all right? And McGon--I mean, she didn’t suspect a thing?” Alex asked in an anxious whisper.

Geoff grinned at his friends. “She had no idea. It helped that you two were outside the window, flying about, so that Jack could say, ‘Oi! What’s Weasley up to?’ and that sort of thing. Worked every time.”

Bill shrugged. “I borrowed Charlie’s broom. The school brooms are hopelessly poky.”

They all felt a rush of freedom through their chests; the Hufflepuff Transfiguration exam--written and practical--was the last examination any of the four of them had to withstand until Monday morning, when the Gryffindors still had Potions (all morning) and History of Magic to get through (all afternoon). The schedule was reversed for the Hufflepuffs: History first, then Potions. More importantly, the Transfiguration exam was the last one that had a practical portion which Geoff needed help with. After this, they could all just concentrate on revision and quizzing each other on potions ingredients and Goblin rebellions. Or at least--they could do that after the Quidditch final, in the morning.

“Think Gryffindor’ll win tomorrow?” Jack asked Bill and Alex. “I hate to think of Slytherin winning...”

Geoff nodded in hearty agreement. “Everyone hates to think of that happening. I don’t know a single person in our house who won’t be cheering for Gryffindor.”

“Right,” Jack agreed. “Oh, Bill, is your mum coming and bringing the twins?”

Bill shook his head. “Dad sent an owl yesterday; they’re all staying home after all. The twins are being colicky, Percy’s teething again, Peggy fell from a tree, has her arm in a sling, and the bones won’t be done mending until Sunday, and Annie’s just being a general pain in the arse and is confined to her room all weekend. Something about nicking Mum’s wand when she was napping and Transfiguring Peggy’s favorite doll. You know: the usual chaos at my house. But Dad said they’ll try to come to the first match Gryffindor plays this autumn, especially if Charlie makes the team.”

“If?” Alex said, appalled. “Has he no more confidence in his son that that?”

The others laughed, then sobered. “It might be a bit rough tomorrow,” Jack said, a warning in his voice. “I heard that Snape really has it in for Potter, ever since Potter stole Evans from him.”

Alex shrugged. “If there’s one person Potter’s not afraid of, it’s Snape,” he said confidently. “And it’s Snape broke up with Evans, remember? If he’s upset about her being with Potter, he’s no one to blame but himself.”

“I know,” Jack answered. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just mean--well, he does seem pretty upset about their being together. I thought he was good at giving the Evil Eye before. It’s even worse now.”

“It probably doesn’t help that Potter’s just made it onto the English team as a reserve Chaser, after they lost Wellington in that match against Finland. And that it looks like England might be in the final of the World Cup, in August. Wouldn’t that be brilliant, if we knew someone who won the World Cup?” Jack said in awe.

“Well,” Bill cautioned; “he’s a reserve. He might not play, even if England does win.”

Jack shrugged. “Still--”

The four boys failed to see a shadowy figure about to emerge from a boys’ bathroom as they passed, chattering animatedly. His lank dark hair hung down on either side of his sallow cheeks; he no longer bothered to pull it back into a ponytail. Who cared what he looked like? If he wasn’t careful, if he looked anything less than repulsive, Narcissa Anderssen might try to shag him again....

Severus Snape shuddered at the very idea. Then he thought of the boys’ words. Wouldn’t that be brilliant, if we knew someone who won the World Cup? James Potter, playing Quidditch for England. It was enough to make him sick, the first time he’d heard about it. And Lily was with him now....

It was clear, on the morning of February nineteenth (he would always remember the date) that Potter had slept with her. The way she was gazing at him was unmistakable. The thing was--he remembered when she’d looked at him that way. When he was the one looking down into her softly glowing face, seeing that expression of amazement. He’d been unable to eat anything that day, torturing himself by imagining them together....Even swooping over the Quidditch pitch on his broom, getting some of the Slytherin Chasers to give him some practice keeping the Quaffle out of the goals wasn’t enough to thoroughly distract him from his thoughts of Lily.

And then, not a month later, he’d heard them in the library, heard the unmistakable sounds of kissing and sighing, and he hadn’t had to look to know whose sighs they were; he recognized Lily’s sounds anywhere. He was ashamed of himself for peeking through the books to see them kissing; when he thought one of them had turned toward him, he quickly strode out. After that, it seemed that he was practically falling over them, time after time. Everywhere he went, he seemed to find James and Lily, Lily and James. It was almost as though they were following him. And yet, from what he could tell, they were actually oblivious to the rest of the world, as though they were the only two people in it.

It happened again in late May, when he was doing revision for the N.E.W.T.s in the library. The kissing and sighing behind the stacks....

“James,” she whispered, “I need to talk to you.” Severus’ ears pricked up; he knew that tone of voice. She was being very serious. Potter, however, wasn’t paying attention to her. Severus continued to hear kissing noises.

“James,” she said sternly. Severus knew that tone of voice as well. The noises stopped.

“Yes, Lily. What is it?”

“I--I have to tell you something...” Severus strained to hear them, wondering what could be making her sound like that.

“Yes, yes. You said. What is it?”

“Well--” she hesitated. “I wrote a letter to Sam Bell.”

Severus frowned. Who?

“Who?” Potter was having the same reaction.

“Sam Bell. You know, that Auror I saved on my birthday.”

Auror? Lily saved an Auror on her birthday?

“Oh, right. Why would you write to him?”

“Well, you know how I--I hadn’t made any plans yet for what to do after I’m finished school...”

“There’s no rush, Lily. And--wait. What do you mean ‘hadn’t made any plans?’”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Sam came here to Hogwarts, to talk with me. Just sending post back and forth wouldn’t have been very secure....”

“What are you talking about?” Potter sounded antagonistic, and Severus wasn’t sure he blamed him. Who the hell is this Auror?

“What I’m talking about is--what we talked about is--what it’s like to be an Auror. And whether I’d be any good at it.”

What?

“What? Are you mad?”

Severus heard some rustling and thought that Lily might be extricating herself from James Potter’s embrace.

“There’s a lovely reaction. I’ve finally worked out what I want to do, and that’s what you have to say?”

There was a tense silence. Severus resisted the urge to move closer to them to hear better.

Potter sighed. “I’m sorry, Lily. I just--I wasn’t expecting this. So. You--you’re going to be an Auror?” His voice sounded a bit choked.

“Well,” she hesitated. “I’m going to take the tests to be admitted for training. I’d have to pass those with high marks. And even if I do, there’s the training itself. I’d have to make it through. But, yes. I’m going to attempt to become an Auror,” she said very quietly.

“Come here,” Potter said gently, and Severus heard rustling and sighing again; it seemed that Lily had returned to his embrace. “I’m glad that you finally worked out what you want to do, I really am. It’s just--well, rather dangerous. I’m allowed to be worried about you, aren’t I?”

Lily paused before answering. “So, you’re not going to try to stop me?”

Potter gave a small laugh. “As if I could. As if anyone could. No, I’m not going to try to stop you. You certainly didn’t try to stop me from trying out for the English team.” He heaved a great sigh. “My Lily, an Auror. I admit, I’m having trouble picturing it...”

She laughed ruefully. “So am I, a bit. But Sam says I have good instincts, and the training I’ll get will teach me all of the tricks of the trade.”

“Oh, Sam says, does he?” Potter definitely sounded jealous now.

“Yes, Sam says. You’re jealous, aren’t you? You were jealous the first time you saw him.”

Potter made a huffing noise. “Well--look at him. With his--his muscles. And--his--his being an Auror--”

Lily laughed. “Stop being silly. He’s married, you prat. He showed me a lovely photo of his wife. And they’re expecting a baby, in December. Sam’s over the moon about it. Can’t wait for the day his son or daughter can ride a broomstick and learn to play Quidditch.”

“Oh,” was all that Potter said. Severus grimaced; he’d been having the same reaction to Lily mentioning Sam. But somehow it didn’t reassure him to know that this Sam Bell was married and about to become a father....

He leaned against the stone wall outside the boys’ bathroom, listening to the footsteps of the third years receding down the corridor. In the morning, he was playing against James Potter for the Quidditch Cup. Three times as many people would be cheering for Gryffindor as for Slytherin. Both Gryffindor and Slytherin were undefeated, having won matches against Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Slytherin had a boy who was arguably the finest Seeker the school had seen in years; however, Gryffindor had James Potter playing Chaser, James Potter who was a reserve Chaser for England.

Gryffindor had won both of their previous matches because of Potter, not their little Seeker. Potter had made the score so lopsided before the Snitch was caught (four-hundred to twenty in the match against Hufflepuff, three-hundred-thirty to forty against Ravenclaw) that the Seekers were almost beside the point. When the Snitch was seen by the Hufflepuff Seeker in that match, he had hesitated, knowing how the score stood, and the Gryffindor Seeker had swooped past him and claimed it. The Ravenclaw Seeker had had her pride, however, and raced to catch it before the girl from Gryffindor, even knowing that Ravenclaw would only have one hundred ninety points. They would lose the match, but at least she could say she caught the Snitch.

Severus knew it was up to him, as the Keeper, to control the game, to prevent Potter from unbalancing the score and virtually taking the Seekers out of the equation. Slytherin was trailing Gryffindor by two-hundred points in the race for the Cup. I will show Potter no mercy and win this match if it’s the last thing I do at Hogwarts, he thought, striding down the corridor, catching up with the third-year boys. He barreled through the center of the group, making them scatter like tenpins, hearing their grunts of indignation with a smug satisfaction. With trepidation, they watched his dark figure storm down the castle corridor away from them, his robe flapping behind him like the wings of a bat.

* * * * *

Saturday, 3 June, 1978

Severus Snape flung the Quaffle as hard as he could to the nearest Slytherin Chaser, O’Brien. He actually caught it, Severus thought with an unbecoming smirk. But he was scowling again not twenty seconds later when Sirius Black hit a Bludger which blasted through O’Brien’s broom twigs, leaving him with barely a piece of straw on the end of his broom. The jolt made him lose hold of the Quaffle, and before Severus knew it, James Potter had grabbed it out of the air and was zipping back toward the Slytherin goal posts with it. If those idiots could keep the Quaffle away from him, or if the Beaters would hit a Bludger at his head, my job would be a hell of a lot easier...

James Potter paused momentarily, a lopsided grin on his face; most of the other players were still at the other end of the pitch and hadn’t reached the Slytherin end, as he had. He feinted toward the center goal, then the left hoop, and finally zipped past Severus Snape to put the Quaffle through the far right hoop.

“GRYFFINDOR, ONE-TWENTY, SLYTHERIN, ZERO!” cried the fourth-year Ravenclaw boy who was doing the announcing. Cheers went up from seventy-five percent of the crowd, boos from the Slytherins. Some players sporting green and silver scarves started throwing butterbeer bottles onto the pitch, barely missing the girl who was the Gryffindor Seeker, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle and called for Filch to eject the students; she didn’t call a time-out, though, as it wasn’t a foul committed by players, and the game continued.

The same thing kept happening repeatedly, until Severus started to wonder whether he was in some kind of time loop. One-thirty to zero. The Quaffle sailing past him again, through the center hoop. One forty to zero. The crowd was chanting Potter! Potter! Potter!

At last, when he threw the Quaffle to his Chasers after a Gryffindor score, they actually caught it and started zooming toward the other end of the pitch. He watched the two Seekers; the Gryffindor girl wasn’t especially good, but it hardly seemed to matter with Potter playing for them. The Slytherin Seeker, on the other hand, was a boy from a long line of excellent Seekers. His dad still played for the Pride of Portree, and his grandfather had won the 1946 World Cup for Scotland. He knew they were very lucky to have Craighead on their team, and now his heart was in his throat as he saw that the boy had seen the Snitch, and was zooming toward it. It was near the Gryffindor goal posts, not a foot off the ground. Severus’ heart was beating a mile a minute. Gryffindor only has one-forty. If Craighead catches it, we’ll have one-fifty and win! But then he realized that they still wouldn’t win the Quidditch cup, as that would only give them ten more points, and they were behind Gryffindor by two-hundred. He felt bile rise in his throat. It just wasn’t fair!

A roar went up from the crowd; he’d let his mind wander and Potter had scored on him again! Gah, he thought, retrieving the Quaffle from its slow free-fall and hurling it toward a Slytherin player before noticing that he was a Beater. Damn! The beater instinctively hit the oncoming orb with his bat before realizing that it wasn’t a Bludger, which sent the Quaffle neatly into the hands of James Potter yet again. The Slytherin Seeker was still hurtling toward the Snitch and the announcer was saying, “THAT’S GRYFFINDOR ONE-FIF---OH!”

Severus had tried to block Potter again, but he miscalculated and the Quaffle zipped past him through the hoop. And still the Slytherin Seeker did not know what was going on behind him, at the other end of the pitch. Severus didn’t even bother trying to retrieve the Quaffle; he watched with a lump in his stomach, watched the inevitable happen as Craighead grabbed the Snitch and held it up triumphantly, thinking he’d won the match, flying past the Slytherin spectators, grinning. Then the grin faded from his face. They weren’t cheering, as he expected, and Severus Snape felt badly for the boy; he really was a brilliant Seeker. It wasn’t his fault that the team had a pillock for a Keeper, who couldn’t keep James Potter from scoring again and again....

Everyone seemed to be stunned, including the announcer, who finally said, “THE GAME IS OVER AND GRYFFINDOR WINS, ONE-SIXTY TO ONE-FIFTY! GRYFFINDOR HAS WON THE QUIDDITCH CUP!”

Severus Snape descended to the ground near the Slytherin goals, feeling empty inside. He pushed at his hair in irritation, wishing he’d decided to pull it back, as he used to. His face felt rough and he realized that he’d forgotten to shave that morning. Well, who cared what he looked like? Lily certainly didn’t....

There she was now, making her way through the throng surrounding the Gryffindor team, grinning at James Potter and finally throwing her arms around his neck, as he gathered her to him and kissed her thoroughly, while people continued to pat him on the back. He heard one or two shouts of, “Get a room!” as their kiss continued. Lily resurfaced then, turning red, still unable to stop smiling, and she and Potter walked back to the castle with their arms around each other, jostled by the crowd, and yet somehow, carving their own private space out of it.

James Potter and Lily Evans, the sort of couple no one would question. Both Gryffindors and excellent students (even Severus had to admit). Head Girl and Head Boy. They seemed to be made for each other. Why had he never seen that Sirius Black wasn’t the real threat, nor even Remus Lupin? It was Potter all along. When they’d been together, she’d mentioned his name far too often for his liking. James said this and James said that. James James James. And then Potter had to go and save his life. That’s when he first thought he might have cause to worry about Potter, but stopping it was like stopping gravity, or the march of time....

Gah.

Severus looked down at his hand; there were red blisters on the back. “Damn,” he muttered softly to himself. “Missed a spot...” He had to prepare so carefully for Quidditch, especially at this time of year, when even in northern Scotland the sun was beginning to get quite strong. He took a small tube out of a pocket in his robes and rubbed a salve onto the inflamed skin, mentally cursing his porphyria. As he did so he watched the throng of Gryffindor supporters making their way to the castle; there were still some subdued Slytherin supporters on the pitch, but they were avoiding Snape. His eyes slid furtively over his teammates, then he picked up his broom and walked toward the greenhouses. He didn’t want to see anyone just now...

He reached the shelter of the oaks and after walking a few yards away from the entrance to the corridor of trees, stopped and leaned against one of them, staring into space. He remembered being here with Lily, telling her he loved her, kissing her....

Then he heard a step on the path, twigs and fallen leaves being trod on, and he turned to see a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, walking into the oak allée toward him. Snape wasn’t sure who he was, but something about him looked familiar...

“Tough luck, Snape,” the young man drawled. He had cornsilk-light hair and a pointed face, grey eyes that betrayed no emotion. Severus looked toward him, silent, wishing he would just disappear. Now he remembered: Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa Anderssen’s boyfriend. Brilliant, Severus thought. Just what I need right now. A jealous boyfriend come to hex me. That was five months ago! As if I wanted his whore of a girlfriend anyway....

“Remember me?” Malfoy asked, as though anyone could ever forget him. Severus spoke carefully, with almost no inflection in his voice.

“Malfoy. Seventh year when I was in first. Sorry you wasted your time coming today.” I didn’t want Anderssen, I didn’t want Anderssen. Leave me the hell alone.

Lucius Malfoy smiled ominously. “Oh, it would have been nice to see a Slytherin victory, that’s true. But I definitely did not waste my time coming.”

Severus did not look at him, in case he saw something in his eyes that looked remotely like guilt. I do not feel guilty about what happened at that party, he thought stubbornly. But he knew that wasn’t true. However, it wasn’t because Anderssen had a boyfriend that he felt guilty; it was because of Lily.

To look busy, and so he wouldn’t have to look him in the eye, he took out his tube of salve and rubbed some into the back of his hand again. He watched Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. The blond man was smirking. “Is that what you do? To stay out in the sun? I wondered. It’s pretty bright today; you must be glad to get away from it again.” Severus lifted his face to Malfoy’s now, looking at him now with narrowed eyes. The vampire thing again. He remembered Anderssen’s little “kink,” the way she’d asked him to bite her. Malfoy approached him and was now standing about a foot away from Severus, who was feeling very uncomfortable. What next? Is he going to ask me to bite him now? What a warped pair they make... He decided to try to put a stop to it, scare him off.

He swallowed first, then said softly, “Careful. Better not come too close. I get rather peaked after a match.” He tried to keep his own face as impassive as possible while scanning Malfoy’s face to see whether this had intimidated him.

It hadn’t, not in the slightest. Instead, Malfoy laughed. “I brought insurance,” he informed him, pulling a necklace with a head of garlic out of his robes. Severus immediately recoiled, backing up and putting his hand over his mouth and nose. Malfoy laughed again. “I wondered whether people were putting me on about that. I can see now they weren’t.” “People” being Narcissa Anderssen, Severus thought. “Of course, I should have known; you obviously haven’t looked in a mirror in quite a while.” Severus flinched at the insult, but said nothing. “I just want to talk to you. Can I talk to you?”

Severus doubted that it would be that simple. “About what?” About your girlfriend’s vampire fantasy? Don’t blame me because she’s sick.

“What are your plans for when you’re done school?”

Severus felt that Malfoy was not to be trusted. He said in a cautious, flat voice, “Working in my uncle’s apothecary in Dunoon.”

“Ah, Dunoon. The Firth of Clyde is quite beautiful, isn’t it?” Malfoy was waxing rhapsodic now. “Of course, I like Dunoon because of its bloody history....So. Uncle in Dunoon. Is he Scottish?”

He nodded. “My mother’s brother.”

“Mother’s side. Hmmm. Dunoon. What’s your uncle’s name?”

“MacDermid.”

“Ah, Clan Campbell. Good. Not Clan Lamont. Weaklings. Of course, in Dunoon, chances are you’re going to be one or the other. In all of Argyllshire, for that matter. Although anyone with sense agrees that the Campbells had it all over the Lamonts centuries ago; they let the Muggles in their clan take over much sooner than the Campbells. I’m Clan Campbell as well, on my mother’s side. She’s a Bannatyne. Glorious, bloody history, Clan Campbell. My father’s French family has almost as bloody a history--always managed to be on the winning side, whether it was the revolution, or the reversals that followed, or the Vichy regime...but no one can really touch the Scots for bloodiness, eh?”

Severus stared at him. Where is this going? When is he going to accuse me of sleeping with his girlfriend? He did not answer. Malfoy continued, clearly enjoying hearing the sound of his own voice.

“You know what my favorite bloody story is? Takes place in Dunoon; you made me remember. The Massacre of 1646. After the Campbells hit the Lamont castles of Towart and Ascog with all they had, and the Lamonts surrendered. Our clan gave them a written guarantee of liberty. Of course the idiots believed that. They were taken to Dunoon in boats and sentenced to death in the church. Only a little over a hundred survivors. The histories say they were all shot or stabbed to death, but we wizards know it was really the killing curse did them in, except for the thirty-six ‘special gentlemen’ who were hanged from a tree in the churchyard--I think they were half-wizard and half-Muggle. And then there was the Chief and his brothers. They were prisoners for a number of years; why they didn’t kill them, I don’t know. Of course, at that time, the Chief was still a wizard. Might have been because of that. The almost-dead were buried in the same pits as the dead. Think of it! Wish I’d have been there...”

“Why are you telling me this?” Is that what he has planned for me? And for my uncle too? Wipe our family from the face of the earth?

“Because I think we’re kindred spirits, Snape. Same house. Same Clan. And I’m hoping--same desire to serve the Dark Lord.”

Severus’ eyes widened only a little, trying to hide his surprise. He remembered Anderssen poking at his arm, saying something about a mark, and putting a good word in for him with Malfoy. Perhaps Malfoy really didn’t know about the incident at Ascog and this was proof that she was keeping her word. Not that he’d wanted her to. “Is that what this is about?” he asked, still cautious.

Malfoy stepped toward him again; Severus backed up instinctively and found himself against a tree. “I have a job to offer you.”

“I told you; I have a job lined up,” Severus said, internally cursing himself for the shake in his voice. Never show fear.

Malfoy stepped back, his smile in place again. “It’s not a full-time job, although it’s an important one. You’ll still have plenty of time to--work in your uncle’s apothecary,” he said with a patronizing sneer.

“What is it?” he spat.

“Do you know the boy who’s the fifth-year prefect in Ravenclaw?”

Severus thought about this. Fifth-year Ravenclaw prefect. He pictured the boy now. “I don’t really know him. I know what he looks like. Blond boy.” It was a darker, yellower blond than Malfoy, who was white-blond. The Ravenclaw had hair the color of dirty straw.

“Yes. Do you know who his father is?” Severus shook his head. “Well, his father is a very important man. His father works very hard. He puts dark wizards in Azkaban. He’s always working. And his son hates him for that, among other things. His son is just looking for a way to get back at his father. But he’s only in fifth year; he’s young, doesn’t know any of the right people. That’s where you come in.”

“How?” He hadn’t meant to show interest, but the word just popped out.

“You will get to know him, before school is out for the summer. Become his friend. Write letters to each other, invite him to visit you in Dunoon during holidays. I want you to become the big brother he never had. A father figure, for a boy whose father has written him off. He needs someone like you, and you can be there for him. And you have time; it will be two years before he’s done school. I expect by that time, he will be ready.”

“Ready? For what?”

“For one of these.” Malfoy pulled up his sleeve, showing Severus what Anderssen had been talking about: something that appeared to be a tattoo was on the pale skin there, the image of a skull with a snake for a long, eerie tongue. Severus drew in his breath between his teeth; he couldn’t help it. Malfoy seemed glad that he’d impressed him. “You won’t get yours until then, also. Don’t want to tip off young Mr. Crouch too early. Until then you’ll be strictly an unofficial Death Eater...”

Severus swallowed. Had he said ‘Crouch?’ “Crouch? Do you mean--Barty Crouch’s son?”

“Yes. Barty Crouch, Jr. We fully expect him to be very useful. But we need you to--cultivate him. Make him ripe for the picking. You have two years. Should be enough, don’t you think?”

Severus’ head was swimming. This couldn’t be happening. “But--his father! If I approach Barty Crouch’s son and suggest that he become a Death Eater, what makes you think he won’t report me to his father?”

Malfoy smiled. “He won’t. Not if you do your job and make him trust you completely. He’s looking for a way to get back at his father as much as we are; and we’ve decided that using his own son will work very nicely.”

Severus swallowed. There had to be a way out of this. “What if I refuse?”

Malfoy stepped toward him with his wand out now. “Then I will have to kill you. Fortunately, wands happen to be little pointy sticks made of wood,” he said bringing it ominously close to Severus’ heart, then pulling back. “Of course, I could just alter your memory, but that’s no fun. You’d still be walking around. I thought that a dark creature like yourself would welcome the opportunity to serve the Dark Lord.”

Severus Snape swallowed once, twice, never taking his eyes off Malfoy. “All right.” He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but suddenly, as soon as he said it, his voice no longer shook. He remembered hearing Lily saying that she was going to train to be an Auror. That’s what good little Gryffindors are supposed to do, aren’t they? And what are Slytherins supposed to do? This, evidently. He felt odd, like a purpose for his life had suddenly been restored to him, a purpose that had been missing since he’d ended it with Lily.

Malfoy removed a stoppered vial from a pocket in his robes. “Here,” he said, tossing it to Severus, who caught it reflexively. He stared at the viscous red liquid inside, recognizing it, then looked back at Lucius Malfoy’s face in disbelief. As his hand wrapped around the thin glass he could feel that it was still warm.

“A gift,” Malfoy told him. He turned and walked out of the grove. Severus held the vial of blood, looking at it intently. He really thinks I’m a vampire. He looked up, but Malfoy was gone. Well, let him believe I’m a dark creature. It will probably only be to my benefit.

But as he walked back to the school, under the oaks, he felt like doing something violent, something destructive, and he gripped the vial in his hand tightly before throwing it so that it broke against one of the larger tree trunks, shattering, splattering the blood. He walked on, feeling only a small release from the violent action, wondering what someone would think of the blood-spattered tree when it was discovered, wondering whose blood it was....

I’m going to be a Death Eater, he thought. And Lily’s going to be an Auror.

It was official. They were enemies. There was no turning back.

* * * * *

Saturday, 4 November, 1978

They were a happy group trooping back up to the castle; Charlie was bouncing along jauntily, bursting with his first Quidditch victory. As he walked along holding once of Peggy’s hands and his father the other, Bill grinned at his brother. Charlie had been brilliant, swooping down on the Snitch before the Slytherin Seeker knew what was happening, and that was saying something, since Craighead was the most brilliant Seeker at the school. Was, Bill thought smugly, remembering the shocked look on the third-year’s face as Charlie looped around him, plucking the Snitch out of the air when the Slytherin’s hand was only inches away from it.

Amazingly, Annie seemed to be the most struck by her brother’s Quidditch prowess. Although they were normally combatants in a war that had begun on the day she was born, today she had asked permission to carry his broom for him after the game, and Bill and his dad exchanged smiles over her head. Annie was clearly idolizing her brother, although she wasn’t saying anything outright, and Bill felt this boded well for the future. She would be a first year when Charlie was a fifth year and Bill was in his last year, and Bill was looking forward to it, three of them going to Hogwarts at the same time. The only thing that made him a bit sad was that he would be out of school by the time Peggy started, but he was glad that she would have Annie and Charlie to show her the ropes, and then she and Annie would be in fifth and seventh years when Percy started and could be his guides. Peggy and Percy would later help the twins, Fred and George.

Bill shook his head as he walked; his dad, holding Peggy’s other hand so they could swing her between them every few steps, asked him why.

“Oh, I was just thinking about when Percy’s ready to start school and Annie and Peggy can help him out, like Charlie and I can help Annie when she starts. It must be hard to come without having any brothers or sisters to show you the ropes.”

Arthur Weasley smiled affectionately at his eldest son. “You did,” he reminded him, as they swung Peggy over a puddle, making her whoop and giggle.

“Yeah, but I was lucky. On my first train ride, I was taken in by three prefects. I told you about two of them--James Potter and Lily Evans.”

“Last year’s Head Boy and Head Girl? Right, I remember. Well, that’s what prefects are for, aren’t they? Among other things....”

Bill squinted at his dad. “Were you a prefect, when you were in school?”

His father looked abashed and reddened slightly. “Actually, I was. I don’t like to brag, but--”

Bill grinned at him. “You’re allowed to brag to your kids, a little. Until we tell you to stop, anyway,” Bill laughed.

Arthur regarded Bill fondly again; at nearly-fifteen, he was almost six feet tall, and if it weren’t for his thin build he might routinely be taken for an older student. “I brag to Peggy all the time, don’t I Pegs?”

She beamed up at her father, red braids flying as they swung her between them again. “It’s not bragging if it’s the truth, Daddy.” She turned and looked up at Bill. “Daddy’s the most brilliant wizard at the Ministry. He’s going to be the Minister of Magic someday, you know.”

Bill started to laugh, then remembered that this was Peggy saying this. Peggy who seemed to have the Sight. He sobered and looked down at her. “Really, Peg? You’re sure?”

“Sure I’m sure,” she said cheerfully. “I asked for it for my birthday present, on Wednesday, and Daddy promised he would do it someday, and Daddy doesn’t break his promises.”

“Ooooh,” Bill said in understanding. It wasn’t one of those things she’d Seen; it was a promise from their dad. “Well, then I’m sure he shall be Minister of Magic, as he’s made you a birthday promise. How does it feel to be six?”

“It feels like more swinging!” she crowed, leaping into the air between them and trusting that they would pull up on her arms and prevent her from winding up in her knees in the mud that inevitably marked the path from the Quidditch pitch back to the castle at this time of year. They didn’t disappoint her, and she was once more suspended between her father and brother, laughing merrily.

Charlie caught up with them and was walking beside his brother now. “Too bad Mum couldn’t come,” he said. Bill saw that he was disappointed about this, although he was putting a good face on it. Bill knew he’d worried about coming to school last year and leaving Mum to manage without him to help keep the younger children in order. Although he didn’t always take well to caretaker duties--hence his rows with Annie--he didn’t like the idea of their mum being more burdened.

Their dad sighed. “She wanted to, but your Aunt Meg was invited to a wedding and couldn’t baby-sit for Percy and the twins, and you know how she is--she doesn’t really trust anyone else. I suggested she bring the younger boys, but she said she’d just be managing them the entire time, trying to keep them quiet, and she was probably right.”

He grinned at Charlie, trying to comfort him, and Charlie gave him a grateful half-smile. “’S’okay, Dad. I understand.”

“Tell you what; next time I’ll take care of all five younger kids and let you mum come see you play. And then she can have a nice visit with her two older boys here, without any babies to fret over. Won’t that be nice?”

“Without us?” Peggy said in real distress. Her father gave her a slightly stern look.

“Mum needs a break every so often, Peggy. It’s not nice to begrudge her that.”

Properly chastised, Peggy looked down at her muddy boots as she walked and mumbled, “Yes, Daddy.”

Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew walked along behind the Weasleys, trying to find the least-muddy places to put their feet. Remus dug his hands deep into his pockets and breathed in deeply the autumnal scent of Hogwarts. It was so strange to be back here and not a student; he’d been rather at loose ends since they’d finished school in June, and was still living at home with his parents. He’d answered a few advertisements in the Daily Prophet, but no one had hired him. He didn’t have a very good plan for what to do, not like James and Lily. He couldn’t believe that Lily was off training to be an Auror; it seemed like such an adult thing to do. He’d been very supportive of her and James’ relationship since February, but there were still times--especially before the full moon--when he still ached for her, and not just physically.

James had tried talking to him about it once, but Remus had put him off, telling him that he was very happy for them and not to worry about him. James had looked like he was feeling a bit guilty, as though he’d stolen Lily from him. Remus had found out why James was being like this when, on their last morning at Hogwarts, before getting the train home, James announced that he had asked Lily to marry him and she had accepted. Sirius had hugged them both enthusiastically, and Remus had shaken James’ hand and tentatively hugged Lily, ever mindful of his werewolf strength. She had looked in his eyes searchingly and said softly, “Are you all right, Remus?”

The idea that she was worried about him made his heart turn over. He’d nodded through his unshed tears and told her that he was looking forward to their wedding. However, since James was playing for England until the end of the summer, and after that he was going to be trying for a position with a team in the League, and since Lily was going to be off doing something mysterious from September to January, they weren’t going to be having the wedding until the following June. Lily in particular looked very relieved about this.

“A whole year to plan!” she said. “Mum and I will need it.”

Sirius was as aimless as Remus, also still living with his parents, but to Remus’ knowledge he hadn’t even tried to apply for any jobs, as Remus had. Still, for some reason, when Peter had come by asking whether he wanted to come to Hogwarts for the first Gryffindor game and Remus had asked Sirius to join them, Sirius had declined, pleading a prior commitment. Remus had thought this very odd; what prior commitment could Sirius possibly have on a Saturday morning? But then Remus thought about Sirius’ dating habits in school, and assumed it must be a girl. So that left him stuck with just Peter for company.

He glanced sideways at Peter, whose mother had gotten him a job at the Prophet, in the research-and-fact-checking department. He spent his days sending owls to people to verify quotes, or correcting the spelling of names with the wave of a wand. It was fairly undemanding work, and Remus had almost been tempted to ask whether there was another opening, but the idea of doing the same thing as Peter was slightly depressing, and he decided that he’d rather say he just hadn’t found the right job for him yet.

“You sure we should go back to the castle for lunch, instead of going to the pub in the village?” Remus asked Peter. Peter shrugged.

“I only suggested it because I didn’t think you had much in the way of money. We won’t be trying to sit at the Gryffindor table or anything; I thought we’d just nip down to the kitchens and see what the house-elves would like to part with. You know how they are.”

Remus nodded; it was never a chore to get food from the elves, and he was rather short of funds. He put his gloved hand in his pocket and felt the five Sickles there, all he had in the world until his father gave him his allowance on Monday. Allowance.

I’m eighteen years old, I’ve had seven years of magical education, and I’m living with my mum and dad and getting an allowance.

“Yeah, I know how the elves are,” he answered Peter, unable to not notice the slightly smug expression on Peter’s face. He knows I can’t afford to go to a pub and have a nice meal any time I like.

He thought of the Hogwarts meals he’d enjoyed for seven years, then tried to forget about them again as his stomach moved within him. He hadn’t had breakfast and was looking forward to a good lunch. He was especially hungry because the moon would be rising full that night; he wasn’t going through the sexual mania, though, because he’d discovered a werewolf pub in North Yorkshire where he had traveled the night before (and used up some Muggle money he’d converted from wizarding currency), and met up with a girl there who was also a werewolf. She was a Muggle, as were most of the pub’s patrons. He hadn’t told her he was also a wizard.

She had helped him ease his carnal desires as he had helped her with hers, but there had been a middle-aged man across the room who had been giving Remus this look, and he’d almost abandoned her for the older man. He’d never known this was a possibility before, a pub like this, and was very, very grateful that he had a way of being around people just before the full moon now. Otherwise, he would have told Peter to go to the match alone; there was no way he could have withstood sitting with the other spectators, watching the match, if he hadn’t had a sexual release with Luna, the night before.

He’d asked her whether that was her real name, and she’d said, “Of course not! It’s my werewolf name. I’d never tell anyone here my real name. What’s your werewolf name?”

“Erm,” he’d stuttered, “Remus Lupin.” She’d snorted into her drink.

“How original. You know how many Remuses there are in this place tonight? Of course, there’s a load of Lunas, too....”

But then the conversation had been cut short and they’d gone up the stairs to one of the rooms set aside for this particular purpose, not caring about names any more, not caring about anything but their physical needs....

It made sense, when Remus thought about it. He didn’t need to worry as much about hurting another werewolf, someone who was as strong as he was. But he’d felt a bit lonely and empty, lying in the grotty bed afterward (who knew the last time the sheets had been washed?) thinking of the first time he’d been with Lily. In spite of biting her, there had been a different feeling about the whole encounter. She was his friend, she’d had feelings for him, and she didn’t run off afterward. She didn’t give a false name and laugh at his real name. He hadn’t been able to continue this train of thought, however, as some other couple was pounding on the door, waiting (but not patiently) to use the same room.

Remus smiled at Peter, glad that he’d been able to come to the match; he particularly missed the three of them hanging about with him during the full moon, and wasn’t sure how to contact them and say, “You know how you all became Animagi to be with me...well, can we keep that up even though we’re out of school?” Now that they weren’t living with him, the three of them seemed to have forgotten about him. Once, during the summer, James and Sirius had invited him to visit them at Ascog, but it was a pure coincidence that it fell during the full moon.

They finally reached the entrance hall; there weren’t many other students coming down to lunch yet, as it was early. Nonetheless, Remus’ nose was already picking up on the heavenly aromas emanating from the kitchens, thinking of the willing elves who would give them as much food as they wanted.

The only other people in the hall were the Weasleys and--Remus felt like rubbing his eyes--Professor Trelawney, who was coming down the marble stairs, staring eerily at Bill Weasley’s youngest sister. Soon Trelawney was crouching before the girl, whose hair was as red as her brothers’ and father’s, and the girl looked transfixed, staring back, as though she couldn’t tear her eyes away if she’d tried.

Bill frowned; he hated Trelawney and hadn’t thought about what might happen if Peggy came to visit him at school. It certainly never occurred to him that Trelawney would come down out of her tower. She never did that.

But now, crouching before the six-year-old girl, her large owlish eyes magnified by her ridiculous glasses, she whispered mistily, “I could feel that you were here.”

As though this was some kind of trigger, Peggy froze and then, still staring, started to speak in a strange voice that did not sound like it was coming from her:

“In days to come the Dark Lord’s fall is split by silver into gold. A triangle, each time, his bane.

“One corner is a lion tall, of good intent, named for the coal; twice hidden, both a beast and man.

“One corner comes from blood of yore, child of the silver moon so cold; Dark Lord’s servant and lion’s mate.

“Last comes a flame-haired daughter of war, caught between silver and the gold; one of two and one of many.

“The lion loves the daughter bright, as does the child of silver moon; but the Dark Lord’s servant shall betray.

“What though they flee before their fate, three shall bring forth the days of doom, and love shall end the Dark Lord’s reign.”

On the last word, Peggy collapsed in a heap on the stone floor.

* * * * *

Thanks to Sarah for being my emergency beta reader for this chapter.