I Hate

Those lips that Love's own hand did make

Breath'd forth the sound that said 'I hate'

She didn't hate him the first day she met him.

It was September 1^st, 1970, and they were both awaiting the Hogwarts Express on Platform 9 and ¾. She was shy, a scared Muggleborn witch who had no idea what the world at the end of the tain ride would hold for her. He was fearless, clowning around with a friend, obviously supremely comfortable in this world and showing no visible signs of regret at leaving his home for a school that didn't even have an address. She had marvelled at him then, uncertainty making her unusually observant, and her own fear making his carelessly boisterous behaviour look like the ultimate courage.

Later she would realize that he, like many others she would meet at Hogwarts, had simply been raised from a young age to expect that he would go off to this mysterious school at age eleven, living in an ancient and haunted castle somewhere mapmakers feared to tread. It was then that her initial awe at his bravery dissolved, and in its place she found only disdain at his unruly play and nonexistent manners. And when he, after only half a moment's consideration, was Sorted into the House the Sorting Hat had carefully chosen for her, she found herself liking him even less.

He didn't endear himself any further to her when that night, as they were shown to their tower, he slipped a chocolate frog into her thick red hair. He couldn't have known who she was, he couldn't have known that she had watched him at the Platform and at the Sorting, but somehow he had been unlucky enough to choose her for his prank. As she screamed and writhed in terror, the toad tangling in her unruly curls and scrabbling at her scalp with already-melting feet, he laughed so hard he had to lean on his also-hysterical friend. By the time the toad had been removed from her hair by Alice, a fellow Gryffindor, leaving sticky streaks of chocolate that gave her uneven brown highlights; she had made up her mind about him. As she emptied her trunk onto her four-poster and set off for the showers to repair the damage done to her hair, she said softly to herself, "I hate him."

To me that languished for her sake.

But when she saw my woeful state

She hated him even more as the years went on.

She hated him second year, when he made Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and was completely insufferable for weeks, toting his broomstick with him everywhere he went and wearing his Quidditch robes in the common room because he knew it would attract attention. His friend had also made the team, as a Beater, and the two of them were always loudly debating Quidditch strategies, arguing in their way that always made everyone else stop what they were doing and watch. She refused; she watched other students (not even just first-years, but even those older than her) being sucked into their games, hypnotized into becoming adoring satellites that constantly orbited the two of them, and firmly vowed that she would never do so herself.

She hated him third year, when he was assigned to be her partner in Potions and started the project off by giving her a rakish smile and saying, "What gorgeous red hair you have. You can't be in Gryffindor, or I would have definitely noticed you before now."

She gave him her iciest glare. "I am in Gryffindor," she said through clenched teeth. "And you didn't seem to think my hair was so gorgeous when you put a Chocolate Frog in it first year."

To her surprise, he burst out laughing. "That was you?" he asked incredulously. "All I remember was some skinny little girl who was completely petrified. Sirius and I thought it would be funny to lighten her up a bit."

Her faced remained completely stony. "Wasn't that hilarious of you. Too bad instead of being lightened up I ended up spending an hour in the showers to get all the melted chocolate out of my hair."

He grinned unrepentantly. "So, are you going to tell me your name, or do I have to think up a nickname about your hair and chocolate? Chocolate Strawberry, for example? Red--"

"Lily Evans," she said sharply. "And if you call me a single one of your nicknames, I'll hex your hair red."

He looked briefly horrified at the thought, then smirked, running a hand through his already-tousled hair. "Nah, my charm lies in my dark and dishevelled look. You, on the other hand..." he reached out a hand and wound a fiery curl around his finger. "Your hair suits you very well, Tigerlily."

Her wand was out and pressed firmly under his chin before he could move, and she hissed, "That was a nickname."

He was too shocked to do anything, which might have earned him a new hair colour, except the Potions Professor saw the skirmish and quickly settled it, taking ten points from her and telling him, who was well known for his pranks, to get to work.

He gave the Professor, his most innocent smile and began to work diligently, but as soon as the teacher was past their table he abandoned his cauldron and gave her a woeful look.

She kept working, steadily ignoring him for the rest of the lesson.

By fourth year he had figured out that she wouldn't really hex him (more because she didn't know if a curse to turn someone's hair red actually existed than anything else) and consequently, he used his nickname for her liberally. She still tried to ignore him as much as possible, but now that he had noticed her he rarely let her alone whenever he found her. He'd embarrassed her horribly in front of everyone at King's Cross that fall when she'd been waiting for the train and he'd thought it would be funny to run over and throw his arms around her, declaring loudly how much he'd missed her. She couldn't very well slug him like she wanted very badly to, with her parents standing right behind her and his a few feet away, both pairs looking on with amusement.

A few weeks into the new school year she noticed he seemed to be plotting something. Normally this wouldn't have bothered her in the least--when he was planning pranks and sabotage with his friends, he was most likely to leave her well alone--but she could tell by the completely unsubtle glances that kept coming her way that this had something to do with her.

His friends were all gathered around him, as they usually were--the tall and good-looking Black with a characteristically predatory grin on his face, the lean and mysterious Lupin, with eyes that told of more years than he'd seen, and the short and plump Pettigrew, his pallid features arranged in a smile that always shone on James--and all of them were surveying her.

She had been trying to ignore them, turning her back firmly on their glances to study Arithmancy, but Alice, who was supposed to be her partner, kept giving updates on what the four boys were doing. She wished Alice would stop, as it was making her nervous already, but the other girl seemed to think that being the object of James Potter's attentions was equal to fulfilling every Hogwarts girl's fantasy, and would not stop prattling on about it.

Finally, when she was going to hurl her Arithmancy book at Alice to shut her up, the girl stopped gabbling in favour of gaping. She turned to see the problem and was confronted by the sight of him, standing in front of her, grinning like crazy and tousling that unruly hair of his.

He leaned up against her chair and said in what he probably thought was a devastatingly sexy way, "Hogsmeade weekend coming up, Tigerlily."

She glared at him, ignoring Alice's breathless giggles, and said coldly, "I'm well aware of that. I am perfectly capable of reading the message board, thank you."

His grin faltered for a second, but before she could even wonder why, it was firmly back in place. "You always were the smartest witch in our year," he replied smoothly.

She gave him an incredulous look. If he thought that was going to work, he was even more deluded than she thought.

"Did you want something, Potter?" she demanded sharply. "Because if I'm to be the smartest witch this year I'll need to get back to my Arithmancy."

He winked at her. "As a matter of fact, I did want something, my dear Tigerlily. You spend too much time studying as it is; you should get out more. Like to the Three Broomsticks with me this Saturday."

She stared at him for a moment, unable to believe he'd just had the nerve to ask her out after she had made it clear that she'd hated him passionately for the last four years. Well, maybe not passionately. Furiously, at least.

"I--you--" she said, so angry she couldn't form a coherent sentence.

His smile suddenly became supremely confident, as if this spluttering happened every time he deigned to ask some lower mortal to share his godly company.

"Never," she snarled, surging up from her chair so fast her Arithmancy notes flew all over a startled Alice. "Never in a thousand years would I go anywhere with you except to a very high cliff, and that would just be so I could push you over the edge! Maybe the jagged rocks at the bottom could deflate your big head!"

She was dimly aware of his friends sniggering madly at him from the corner where they had remained, but absolute fury was making the blood in her ears roar so loudly she could barely think.

"I don't know how you could have possibly missed this, James Potter, but I hate you! I think you are the most arrogant and stuck-up git that has ever lived, and I completely, absolutely despise you! I don't want to go to Hogsmeade with you, I don't want to go anywhere else with you, and I would die a happy woman if I never saw your face again!"

There was a shocked silence after she'd finished her tirade, and she suddenly became aware that the entire common room had fallen silent to watch her yell.

He was just staring at her, his mouth open and his face a mask of shock and confusion. As she finished, he turned bright pink, then dead white in the span of a few seconds. All she could see, watching him with a sort of sick fascination, was how oddly bright his hazel eyes seemed in his colourless face, glowing almost gold. It was the most inane thought she could possibly have at that moment, admiring his eyes after horribly embarrassing him, but it also made sense, because she had never seen him without a cocky grin before.

He suddenly interrupted her study of him by turning and, without a word, running out of the common room.

She watched him go, pushing through the crowd of people who'd halted just inside the portrait, and watched as his friends quickly came to their senses and followed.

She probably would have stood there for several more minutes had Alice not stood herself, scattering the parchments that had settled on her noisily to the ground, and said, "Well. At least now maybe he'll stop fixating on you and notice all the rest of us who would be perfectly happy to go to Hogsmeade with him."

She gave Alice a sharp glance, but before she could reply, laughter and cheering broke out at the other girl's words, mainly from the females in the room. She shook her head and departed for the girls' dormitory, leaving Alice to pick up her abandoned Arithmancy notes.

Straight in her heart did mercy come

Chiding that tongue that ever sweet

A few days later, when her temper had sufficiently cooled, she went to him and apologized. She stood before him and said everything she had rehearsed in her mind, carefully and quickly, then turned to go.

He stopped her before she made it to the door, and said hesitantly, "Lily...I know you don't like me very much--" At her look, he hastily amended, "All right, you hate me. But, would you mind if I...if I still pestered you a bit every now and then?"

Taken slightly aback, she paused for a second, and met his gaze. He was all earnest seriousness, a complete change from his usual behaviour, and she found herself assenting, "I suppose." She gave him the faintest of smiles. "I don't think I'd know what to do with all the free time I'd have if you didn't."

He grinned as well, a smile that was closer to his normal arrogant smirk. "Right, so you're just using me for entertainment. I see how it is."

She rolled her eyes. "I can't see that you're good for anything else," she replied.

He tipped her a seductive wink. "You just haven't let me show you all the things I'm good for yet."

She had to stifle a laugh at his bravado, especially after the dressing-down she'd given him in the Common room, but raised her eyebrows and reminded him austerely, "I still hate you, James Potter. I doubt I'll ever let you show me anything of the sort."

"Ah, but that's the fun part. Seeing how long it takes until you succumb to my charm," he responded.

"Don't hold your breath," she returned, then gave him another tiny smile before leaving.

He continued to pester her through fifth year, though out of courtesy for their new truce, he no longer called her 'Tigerlily,' using her last name instead. She, for her part, toned down her insults to a more reasonable level and refrained from glaring at him so much. He dated other girls, so many that no one, including him, could keep track, but none of them lasted beyond a few dates. The other girls despaired of his dating habits; they were all frantically jealous of her, because every Friday before a Hogsmeade weekend, it was her he would ask to accompany him. Only after she refused would he choose his next victim. She only avoided being a pariah among the females by her obvious disdain for him--they seemed to have come to an agreement, en masse, that since she didn't return his affection (odd as that was) that it was not her fault.

She found, to her surprise, that she didn't mind his teasing advances so much anymore. It was somewhat amusing to try to think up witty retorts to his ridiculous entreaties when she wasn't overcome with anger at him.

However, their peace was not fated to last. After the fifth-year Defence against the Dark Arts O.W.L., she was cooling off at the lake with Alice and a few other girls when she saw him, playing with a Snitch and shooting completely unsubtle looks at the girls. He was showing off, she realised, probably for her benefit, and she turned back to talking to Alice, deciding to ignore him. However, her plan failed when she heard curses behind her. Turning, she saw he and Black, both on their feet, laughing at Snape, who was lying prone on the ground with copious amounts of bubbles issuing from his mouth. Cursing, she got to her feet without thinking and ran up the lawn.

She may not have particularly liked Snape (no one did, really) but she wasn't about to stand by and watch him be tormented by an arrogant Gryffindor, especially because this was obviously just another way for said Gryffindor to show off. That made her partially responsible for his actions.

What followed was a rather nasty encounter. He, underestimating her anger, tried to play their old games and asked her out again, but by then she was furious with his total disregard for another human being's feelings, whether that human was a greasy-haired git or not. Things escalated until she had her wand out and pointed at him, oddly reminiscent of that Potions class so many years ago. He backed down at last, leaving Snape to run off and lick his wounds, but not before the slimy git managed to insult her for sticking up for him, which caused his hackles to go up in a truly Gryffindor way. If she hadn't intervened again, he probably would have cursed Snape again for calling her a Mudblood, but if there was one thing she knew, it was that she didn't want him protecting her from anyone, much less someone as worthless as Snape. Furious with the Slytherin and the Gryffindor, as well as his friends who had largely stood by and done nothing, she stormed off in anger.

After that, they managed to spend the rest of fifth year and the start of sixth year not speaking. She was still affronted by his unprovoked attack on Snape, and she suspected he was not happy with her thorough refusal of his help. Well, she thought angrily, she was not going to be anyone's damsel in distress, and if James Potter thought that she would just submit to being saved by him, he was completely and totally wrong.

Was used in giving gentle dome.

And taught it thus a new to greet

But halfway through fall term, fate intervened again and they made peace once more. Snape, still incensed about being made fun of on the lawn after the O.W.L, made it his mission to annoy the Gryffindor boys, especially the two who had made the most fun of him, and it wasn't long before the issue came to an explosive head.

She didn't know all the details of what happened--she suspected no one did except for the five boys involved--but it was obvious to her that something very bad had happened. Lupin hadn't been to class for several days after, and when he finally came he was pale and had dark circles under his eyes. He also sat as far away as possible from the other three boys, which in itself was a drastic sign of trouble.

Black looked almost as bad, shooting guilty looks at Lupin whenever the other boy wasn't looking, and had obviously not bothered to wash his hair for several days, which was completely uncharacteristic of him.

He was pale and looked worried most of the time, a complete reversal of his normal ebullient character, and he rarely spoke up in class anymore.

Pettigrew was much the same as before, except that it was clear that without James and Sirius's normal leadership, he was unsure how to proceed. He had always taken his cues from the other boys, and now that they were involved in this problem, he seemed like a ship without its anchor, drifting around aimlessly.

She had expected them to get over this problem soon enough; after all, the four boys were best friends, and she had never seen them apart this long. However, almost a month later it was evident that that their problem, whatever it was, was serious. One night, unable to sleep and thinking to finish up an essay, she found him sitting alone in the common room. She paused at the foot of the stairs, watching him for a second. He was slumped in a chair in front of the fire, his chin resting on his hand, looking for all intents and purposes as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. She was surprised to see him looking so melancholy--she didn't think she had ever seen him without a smile on his face before this whole incident, and yet even these few past weeks he hadn't looked so depressed.

She would have liked to leave him alone and pretend she had never seen him sitting there, but she needed the half-written essay she'd left on the table beside the fire, and there was no way he would not see her then.

Sighing, she made her way slowly over to where he was sitting.

As she neared he glanced up suddenly, tensing, but relaxed when she said nervously, "I forgot my Transfiguration essay down here, just came down to get it..."

She quickly snatched the paper off the table and turned to go, but he said, "You don't have to leave."

She paused, her back still to him, clutching the paper more tightly than she needed to, then turned to face him.

He was looking up at her, his hazel eyes gilded by the flickering firelight and huge with misery, and she found herself saying, "Well, I could stay a bit, I suppose," and sitting in the chair next to his.

He didn't say anything, and they sat for a few seconds in silence, the hissing and crackling of the magical fire the only sounds in the empty room.

Finally, he said softly, "I'm sorry."

She, who had been staring into the fire, cut her eyes to his in surprise. "For what?" she asked, nonplussed.

He turned to face forward again, his profile framed against the firelight, and answered, "For what happened at the end of last year. By the lake. I shouldn't have done it."

She was quiet for a moment. He continued to sit completely still, and she took the opportunity to study him. His normally unruly hair was more dishevelled lately than carefully mussed, his dark brows were drawn together, and his mouth was tense with unhappiness. She felt a sudden rush of pity for him, realizing that the incident with Lupin was obviously distressing him more than she had imagined, then, for some inexplicable reason, felt guilty for not seeing his misery before this.

She replied, "No, you shouldn't have," but her voice held no rancour. She couldn't bring herself to chastise him when he looked like this; besides, was it even really that important?

"If I'd have known that it would lead to all this," he said, waving a hand vaguely around him, "I would have kept my stupid mouth shut that day."

She blinked. "You mean the whole Lupin thing has to do with you teasing Snape?"

He finally looked at her, the dark circles under his eyes giving him a haunted look. "Yes," he said quietly. His eyes unfocused slightly, and he continued, somewhat to himself, "I might not be the one responsible for what happened that night, but there's no doubt that I am just as much to blame."

She did not know what to say to this; she had never seen him so serious before. He had always been the bright, happy one, able to laugh his way out of anything. Even the countless detentions he and Black received and the myriad points they lost for Gryffindor had never shaken that insolent smile from his face. But now, he was like an almost completely different person. Had she not been sitting here, she would never have believed that he possessed this dignified gravity, or even believed that he could experience self-disgust and feelings of responsibility. She wondered again at what could have happened that was so bad that it had taken his exuberance and left only misery in its place.

His eyes ran over her face as she thought, and he seemed to read the question there, answering before she could ask. "I don't know if things will ever be the same between us again," he said, and she knew he meant his friends.

"What happened?" she asked gently, and when he did not answer for several long seconds, she realized it probably wasn't something he wanted to share. After all, who was she to hear his problems? Just a girl he liked to tease, a girl who never had a kind word in return or consented to any of his joking entreaties. "You don't have to tell me," she said quickly, a blush lighting her cheeks. "I didn't mean to--"

"No," he interrupted, "No, I want to. It's just--there's a secret involved in all of this that I can't tell anyone." He sighed. "But if you don't mind me being a bit cryptic, then I can tell you most of what happened."

She, pleased that he trusted her with this knowledge and wanted to tell her, nodded.

He turned back to stare at the fire, slumping farther down in his chair, and began.

"I guess the thing that started this all is a secret. Moony--Remus, that is--has a secret that no one but Sirius and Peter and I know. He didn't even tell us until halfway through second year, and we had to find most of it out for ourselves." He paused. "It's not a bad secret--well, I guess it is to some people, but...well, it's not like he did anything horrible or anything. It's something he has no control over, but he thought we'd hate him for it. Of course, we didn't. He was one of us, a Marauder, and we knew him so well by then that we weren't worried about it."

He smiled wanly at her bemused expression. "Sorry. And it's only going to get more confusing."

He ran a hand through his hair, but she could see that this time it was more in distraction than pride.

"So we knew his secret, and over the years, we managed to find a way to help him with it that made things a lot better for him. Anyway, Snape figured out that Moony had a secret. I guess he saw him going to the--well, never mind. Snape knew something was up, and he used to make little snide hints about it all the time. But then, last spring, after I made fun of him at the lake, he was furious. So this year he made it his goal to find out Remus's secret and tell it to the whole school."

He looked at her, and she nodded for him to continue.

"Snape's not stupid," he went on. "He knew that the most obvious person to get the secret from would be Peter. But Peter was bullied something awful in primary school and knows enough to stick with one of us outside the tower, so Snape couldn't get to him alone. So he picked the next most likely person--"

"Black," she finished for him, her mind leaping ahead and making the connection.

He looked startled that she'd figured it out.

"Well, I knew it wouldn't be you," she explained logically. "You wouldn't tell his secret if someone threatened to throw you off the Quidditch team."

His cheeks seemed to redden at that, but it could have just been his proximity to the warm fire.

"But Sirius isn't any more disloyal than me," he argued.

"But it's different with Black," she pointed out. "He's more of a risk-taker, he's much more volatile than the rest of you. He might not consciously want to tell the secret, but if someone could provoke his temper, he would let it slip in a moment of fury."

He looked amazed at her insight. "That's almost exactly what happened," he said. "Except Sirius didn't tell the entire story. Snape insulted him all right, but his big mistake was bringing Remus into the picture. One thing about Sirius--don't insult someone he feels protective about. He's had a rough family life, and the one thing he depends on is his friends. And Remus, who ironically is probably the most capable person I've ever met, is the person he feels the most protective of. So when Snape started in on Remus, Sirius cracked. He didn't tell the entire secret, he just told Snape enough so that the git could figure it out for himself. But what made it so bad was that Sirius told him how to find out Remus's secret in an extremely dangerous way. If Snape had done as Sirius said, he would have either been killed or--well, badly hurt."

She narrowed her eyes. "So how did Snape avoid being hurt or killed?"

He sighed. "That would be my role in all of this. I started to suspect something when Sirius begged off coming--er, helping--Remus that night, especially since he knew that I had other plans and couldn't go either. Normally, Sirius would drop anything to help Remus. The feeling only got worse as the night went on, so I cancelled my plans and went down to--erm, went where Remus was--and I found Snape there. Luckily for him I arrived in time to get him out of harm's way, but not before he saw the--well, before he found out the secret."

She frowned. "But then why didn't he tell everyone like he'd planned? I think I'd have heard the rumours by now if he had."

He sighed. "Because Dumbledore made him promise not to." He saw her eyebrows go up in surprise. "Yes, he knows the secret. He has ever since Remus came here, probably before. He knows the consequences of the secret getting out, so he forbid Snape to reveal the news."

"Did he put a spell on him?" she wondered.

"No. I think Dumbledore likes to trust people as much as possible, so he only required Snape's word. But since you haven't heard anything, I think it's safe to say that he hasn't spilled yet."

She paused for a second, letting all this information sink in. "So," she said finally, "I'm guessing Lupin is not happy with Black for what he did."

"If by 'not happy' you mean royally hacked off and possibly homicidal, then yes," he said glumly.

She blinked. "Homicidal? That doesn't sound like Lupin at all."

He snorted. "And therein lies the irony. If you ask me, Remus has every right to be angry with Sirius. It would have been hurtful and cruel if anyone had done it, but for Sirius, a Marauder and friend, to completely betray his trust--to one of his worst enemies, no less--made it all the worse. I honestly don't know if Remus will ever speak to him again, and I can't say I blame him."

He sighed. "But I also know more about why Sirius did it. I've been his best friend since we were kids, and I know more than anyone how messed up his family is, and I can sort of see what Sirius is thinking at times. I don't think he should have done what he did, but I know that he had a horrible summer--at the beginning of the term he swore he'd never go back there again. I don't think Remus can see how much Sirius's family problems affect him."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly, shifting his glasses, and she marvelled again at how different he seemed when this serious.

"I just hate being so helpless!" he burst out suddenly. "I hate seeing the two of them hurting each other like this and having to stand back because it's none of my business. It's damn well my business if two of my friends decide to never speak together again, but there's nothing I can do."

She had no idea what to do or say to offer at least a modicum of comfort, but it didn't seem to matter, as he continued on a second later.

"I just want to do something. I don't think I can stand watching the two of them ignore each other again when I can see they're both completely miserable, or sit through another silent meal, or spend another minute worrying about the stupid prats because this is their problem, but--" He gave a short, frustrated sigh and stopped abruptly.

She leaned forward, giving up on trying to think what would make him feel better and just doing what felt right, placing one of her hands on his. "I'm sorry," she said helplessly.

He looked at their hands for a second, then at her. "It's not your fault," he said.

She sighed. "I know, but I'm still sorry." She paused for a second, then said, "You know, part of it probably is my fault. If I hadn't interfered at the lake last year, Snape might not have been so angry and tried to hurt Lupin this year."

"That's not true," he said almost immediately, turning his hand over under hers and holding it tightly. "You were the only one who had the decency to speak up that day, and it's probably only thanks to you that Snivellus didn't decide to kill one of us outright. It was me who's to blame for that, not you. You were just trying to show me what an arrogant git I am--you were the only one doing the right thing."

She flushed slightly at his adamant defence of her. "I didn't really do the right thing," she replied. "I was more interested in a spat with you than Snape's wellbeing. But thank you."

He smiled slightly, but did not let go of her hand.

She had a sudden thought. "Er, if you need a place to get away from your friends for a bit, there's a secret room on the fourth floor."

His eyebrows shot up. "A secret room? That's impossible."

She copied the gesture. "Have you forgotten that we live in a magical castle?" she asked teasingly. "There are secrets here that not even Professor Dumbledore knows."

He dropped his eyes. "Well, yes, I know," he said. "Or rather, I don't. But as far as rooms go, I'm quite sure I know all of them. I have an, er, special map."

She could tell by his fidgeting that he didn't want to discuss that, so she replied, "Well, it's not so much a room as it is an alcove. It's behind that statue of Dalbert the Disgruntled, you just tug three times on the fifth tassel of the tapestry on the wall, and it swings away. There's a tiny hallway that turns to the right and then there's the alcove. It's not very big--which is probably why it's relatively unused--but it does have a lovely window seat that overlooks the lake."

She shrugged. "I do my homework there when the Common room gets too loud."

He considered the idea for a second, staring into the fire, then smiled. "Thanks. Maybe I'll check it out." He suddenly became serious again. "And thank you for listening to all of this."

She smiled slightly. "I had to. If I had let you remain depressed, just think what mass chaos would have broken out among your legion of female fans."

His mouth quirked, and he replied, "Ah, yes. Without my cheerful disposition to brighten their days, they would surely be heartbroken."

"And a dismal frown really doesn't suit your face," she said mock seriously. "It makes your eyes more brown than gold." She paused, then added hastily, "Or so I'm told."

Said eyes were now gleaming with mirth. "Oh, does it? You're telling me I've been depriving my following my gilded gaze for these past days?"

She smirked. "Well, that's what I hear. I couldn't tell you for certain, of course, since I'm not a member."

He laughed. "I see. Well, in any case, thank you."

Smiling, she nodded and stood, gathering her notes. She turned and was halfway to the stairs when she paused. "Oh, and James," she called over her shoulder.

He looked up.

"Just because I told you about that secret alcove doesn't mean that I--"

"I know, I know," he interrupted. "It doesn't mean that you don't hate me anymore. Trust me, I know."

Taken slightly aback, she said without thinking, "I was going to say it doesn't mean that you can bring one of the members of your fan club there for a snog." She made a face. "I don't think I can do homework on that window seat anymore if I know you've been snogging some girl there."

"Oh," he said faintly. After a short silence, he asked hesitantly, "So do you, though? Hate me, I mean."

She looked him over consideringly, watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed under her gaze. Finally, she gave him a mischievous smile. "Maybe less than before," she replied.

A smile slowly slid over his features, and his eyes lit up.

"Mind you, I'm still not a member of your silly fanclub," she said firmly.

He just kept smiling, grinning like an idiot, and she had to turn and leave because she could feel the exact same smile threatening to spread over her own face.

'I hate' she altered with an end,

That followed it as gentle day,

A few weeks later, the two of them hadn't spoken much. A few times he'd smiled at her in passing (she had merely lifted an eyebrow in return) but he hadn't asked her out again. She told herself sternly that it was to be expected--after all, two of his best friends were at odds over a large problem that threatened to split up their foursome, and of course he couldn't spare time to play silly games with her--but a little voice would pipe up in her head, saying But he had plenty of time for you that night in the common room. What's changed since then? She refused to acknowledge the voice.

Every time she pulled aside the curtain to the secret alcove she wondered, with slight nervousness, if he would be there. But so far, if he was using the room, their studying had not overlapped.

Today she had escaped the common room directly after breakfast. Alice seemed to want to tell her in great detail about her date last night with Frank Longbottom, but she was finding it impossible to feign the proper amount of interest. For some reason, which she didn't really want to analyse, hearing her friend talk rapturously of her romantic evening was making her think of other things. Well, one thing in particular. One person, to be exact. And that was completely ridiculous, and just because he hadn't been pestering as often as usual for a few weeks and she hadn't seen him except for a few minutes last night before he disappeared upstairs, and she was worried about his friends and Snape...and him... But that was not a line of thought she wanted to continue. Claiming she was behind in Charms, which of course she wasn't (it was her best subject; it was a sign of how flustered Alice was that she bought the lie), she fled to the secret alcove.

She tugged on the tassel and pushed the tapestry aside impatiently, ruffled for some inexplicable reason, and dumped her things on the window seat, sighing. She spent several minutes brooding, staring out at the window at the newly green grounds, her thoughts skittering around in a jumbled mess, though there were places she refused to let them go. Finally she sighed again and turned to the pile of homework. Even if she wasn't behind, it wouldn't hurt to be ahead.

She went to pick up her quill, then paused. Between the two cushions that comprised the window seat was a small, folded piece of parchment. At first she was surprised and a bit pleased--it meant that he had been using the alcove--but that was quickly replaced by annoyance at his carelessness. And when she unfolded the parchment and saw that it was a letter, complete with his sprawling signature at the bottom, annoyance turned into ire. She crumpled the parchment into her hand without looking at it again. So he had been using the alcove, but he had obviously been thinking about someone else while there. And since she did not think he would write a letter to one of his friends (he was not really the type to write letters at all) it could only be for a girl.

She wanted to throw it away, or maybe give it a quick Incendio, but something stopped her. She wanted, for some strange reason, to read what he'd written. Maybe just to see what he would write in a letter to a girl.

When she saw the name at the top of the letter, her eyes widened. It was to her. Her. She swallowed and read on.

Dear Evans,

Remus and Sirius made up!

I wanted you to be the first to know, but it happened late last night, and you were already in your dorm and we all know what happens when boys try to go up there. I don't really fancy a slide down the stairs right now, as I'm completely exhausted.

So I thought if I put a note here that you might find it. I know you go here a lot, mostly because I see you leave the common room a lot with your books, so I hoped you'd read it and not be mad at me for not telling you in person. I would, you know, except now that the four of us are all speaking again, we spent the entire night catching up. It was so good to see Moony and Padfoot talking again, to see Remus smile like he used to, to see Sirius look like anything except death warmed over. Things aren't perfect, I don't know if they ever will be, but for now they're good enough. I know I'm not saying this well, but you understand, right? I never was as good as you at explaining things. Guess that's why you're the top witch in our year and I'm not, eh? Well, not the top wizard, that is. Because I'm not...oh, sod it, you know what I mean.

She had to smile at that point, because in writing he sounded exactly like he did in person. She could see him writing that, then realizing what he'd wrote and blushing like he did when he was embarrassed, then trying to remedy it and only making himself more muddled.

Anyway, the four of us stayed up all night, so we're having a bit of a lie-in, and then tonight we're going out to celebrate. I don't think Remus will want to, really, but somehow I'll manage to convince him that alcohol and friends are the best thing for him right now. You know how persuasive I can be. So I was wondering if you might like to come with us. I know it doesn't sound like much fun, watching us getting totally pissed, but if you come I promise I won't drink much. Also, Remus and Sirius are likely to spend a lot of time together, and Peter has detention with Filch tonight, and if you were there I wouldn't be the odd one out. Of course, I'm not asking you just because I don't want to be lonely, I'm asking because I like to talk to you and you make things better and...Merlin, am I ever bad at this. Things just seem less complicated when I talk to you, is what I'm trying to say, I guess. After talking to you that night in the Common room I felt a lot better. And...maybe I should just stop writing right now. I think I'm just making things worse.

I'll just say one more thing: I know we don't have the best history together and I know that I'm a huge prat most of the time, and I know that I do all kinds of stupid things and you hate the way I act, and I am a giant prat...wait, did I say that already? Anyway, even if I am a prat, I think the two of us could be good friends. And I think that that's worth finding out, don't you?

Sincerely,

James Potter

P.S. Is it all right if I call you Lily? It feels funny to be calling you by your last name all the time.

She had just grinned at the last line when she heard footsteps, and his head appeared around the corner. His look of surprise melted into pleasure at seeing her there. "Hey," he said, coming further into the small alcove. "I was just coming to see if the letter was still here."

She held it up. "Just read it."

He nodded nervously. "Oh. And?"

She paused and looked down at it. "Well, there's a lot in here. First of all, I'm glad that Lupin and Black made up."

He smiled at that, but it was not his usual self-assured smirk. This was a smile that was full of genuine pleasure but tempered by time and weariness. She was beginning to learn that this was the smile he reserved for speaking about his friends--it showed both the deep caring he had for them and the amount of worry they had put him through.

"Yes, me too. I was worried for a bit there that it would never happen, but it did." He fidgeted slightly. "And the other part?"

"About going out tonight?" She paused consideringly. "Well, I do have a lot of homework."

"Oh," he replied, and though he didn't show it, she could hear in his tone how disappointed he was. "Oh. Well, that's fine, I understand--"

"But I suppose I could put it off until tomorrow," she finished. It was worth it just to see the smile that lit up his face.

"Great," he said, grinning like an idiot. After a second, he seemed to remember what he was doing. "Oh, yes. We're going to leave for Hogsmeade at about nine, all right? I'll find you in the Common room."

She was confused. "But won't we be seen going to Hogsmeade at that time of night? I don't really fancy detention."

He grinned. "Don't worry. We won't be seen or caught." When she gave him a disbelieving look, he elaborated, "My friends and I know a secret way there. We'll be fine, trust me."

And she found that she did. "All right."

He nodded and turned to go, then paused. "Oh, and what about that last part to the letter?" he asked, with his back still to her.

She recalled the postscript. "Oh, that. Well, I thought it might be a bit odd for you to call me Lily-- after all, you've never really called me that. But there was a nickname that I had once that might work."

He half-turned. "Oh? And what is it?"

She gave him a wicked smile. "Just something this really obnoxious boy used to call me in fourth year. He stopped after we had an argument, but since then I've decided I kind of liked it."

Comprehension dawned and he matched her smile. "See you tonight, then, Tigerlily."

That night he found her in the common room, Remus and Sirius trailing behind, and led the four of them to a statue of a hump-backed witch. He said a password and showed her how to get inside; by their practiced entry it was obvious that the other boys had done this many times before. She was pleased to learn that she was the first non-Marauder that had ever been shown this secret.

They followed the tunnel to its end, in the basement of Honeydukes, and then crept through the deserted store onto the street. The Three Broomsticks was full of witches and wizards--it was a Saturday night, after all--and they managed to secure a table in the corner. He had been right, Lupin and Black seemed to want to talk mostly to each other. She observed them covertly for the first hour they were there, and she could tell, even as an outsider, that the two of them still had issues to work out. There was a cautiousness to their teasing that friends as close as they shouldn't have, and there was a hesitancy she had never seen in Black before. But after they had been served pints of mead, the attitude lightened considerably. She could see why he had wanted them to come--with the addition of alcohol, both boys finally relaxed. Another convenient side effect was that neither Remus nor Sirius noticed when the two of them slipped away.

They had been talking quietly for most of the evening, but as the other two boys became more raucous (Black had been singing a rather dirty drinking song about a House Elf and a gnome when they left) he had asked her if she would like to step outside for a minute, to have a more quiet place to talk.

It was beautiful outside, the moon rising bright and silvering the few clouds in the bruised sky. They walked over to the fence that ran parallel to the road and leaned against it, watching the moon slowly ascend quietly.

When a cloud slid over the silvery orb, he turned to her. "I hope you're not regretting coming," he said with a tinge of worry.

"No," she answered, wondering how it was that he, who was so sure of himself around every other girl in the school, seemed to be so anxious for her approval. "It was nice to get to know Black and Lupin a bit better."

He nodded, staring into the sky for the first gleam of stars.

"I mean, I knew Lupin was nice," she continued. "Remus, I suppose I should say. But I always thought Sirius was a bit too crazy to be a good friend. But then tonight, I saw how much he obviously cares for Remus. He seems a lot calmer when he's around him...less frenetic."

He looked back down at her, giving her an odd smile, then looked off into the distance again. "That's very perceptive of you," he said with slight surprise. "Yes, Moony has always been the only person who could make Sirius relax. I mean, we're practically brothers, he and I, and it used to be that I was the only one he would listen to, but slowly over the years it's become Remus that he looks to."

He turned back to her. "Not that I mind," he amended. "I think it's good that the two of them have found each other. Sirius is good for Remus, too. He was the first to befriend him and the first to reassure him that we weren't going to abandon him after...after we found out his secret."

They were silent for a few moments after that, watching the stars slowly wink into existence in the semi-clear sky.

A random thought crossed her mind. "So, have you been using the secret alcove?" she asked him curiously.

"Yes," he answered. "Sometimes I do my homework there, sometimes I just go there to think and watch the grounds out the window. It's a nice place."

She frowned slightly. "But if you're there that often, why don't I ever see you? I'm there almost every day, but I've never seen a trace of you, except that letter."

He blushed. "Well, my friends and I have a map that shows where everyone in the castle is at any time." He avoided her gaze. "I...well, I've sort of been checking it to see where you are." He glanced at her, then reassured quickly, "Only when I'm going to go to the alcove. I didn't think that you'd want me to interrupt you, so I only went when you weren't there."

"Oh," she said. "I don't think I would have minded if you did come while I was there."

His cheeks flushed in pleasure at her words, and something inside of her seemed to finally settle into place. As she looked at him, his cheeks bright with the evening chill and happiness at her words, she realized something important.

Doth follow night who like a fiend

From heaven to hell is flown away.

She had spent most of her early years here hating him, mostly because she'd thought she had him completely figured out. He was easy to categorise--popular, Quidditch star, mischief-maker. But then she'd gotten to know him, and she'd seen that there was more to him than that. He was bright and funny, sometimes cruel, though that had lessened as he had grown. He had a deep and abiding love for his friends, and the recent trauma they had suffered had affected him just as much as the two boys who had been at odds. He could be quiet and serious when he had to be, though he didn't enjoy it, and he was much more mature than she had ever known.

He wore his heart on his sleeve, she could see that now, and his joking was usually meant to cover something deeper. He was nervous when he thought she would be angry, anxious for her approval, and most of all, he was pleased by any favourable words she spoke. As she stared at him, his wide golden eyes and messy black hair, she realized how much she'd grown to count on his teasing. Because she would never seek him out herself, but if he made joking advances, then she could reply without losing an ounce of her precious pride. And sometimes--more often now than ever before--sometimes he would respond with that smile. The one that always caught her off guard, because it was so bright and breathtaking and beautiful. It showed everything he was feeling at the moment, like a window into his soul, and it was possibly the most wonderful thing she had ever seen. And in that moment, she realised exactly how much she cared for this funny, brilliant, amazing boy.

And she wanted him to know it.

He was regarding her in mild surprise--after all, she had been staring at him with an odd look on her face during these revelations--and when she suddenly moved closer to him, he blinked with astonishment.

"Lily? What are you--"

But then he stopped, because she had leaned up and kissed him.

For a second he was completely still, then, hesitantly, he returned the kiss, his hand coming up to gently hold her jaw.

After a minute she pulled away slightly, and he asked again, "Lily?"

She smiled. "Yes?"

"Does this mean you don't hate me anymore?"

She laughed and kissed him again.

'I hate', from hate away she threw

"Yes."

And saved my life saying 'not you'.