A Chance You Only Get Once

Chapter Twenty Six
How Glass Shatters

"So what, exactly, are we doing here?" Mundungus demanded as he fell out of the fireplace into a sickeningly crisply clean living room. Mariella Goring, the brilliant but strange twelve year old who had dragged him here, was already making for the stairs. She walked up them as if she owned them, but then again, Mariella treated everything as if she owned it. It was a trait the Gorings had once been famous for. That mannerism, however, had recently been overshadowed by the murder, by Voldemort, of Mariella's Death Eater parents. Two of the ones that had killed Marissa.

Mundungus often wondered how he could be friends, if that was what they were, with the small girl who did, indeed, look very like her mother, whose face Mundungus still remembered vividly from that terrible night seven years ago. However, she did have a great deal of things to recommend her. She was a Gryffindor, for one thing, and Bill Weasley was her best friend. Madam Pomfrey had already begun training her be a healer, and Dumbledore trusted her more than he trusted any other student. Why was a mystery to Mundungus, but then he didn't have a clue why he trusted her himself.

Mundungus had hated her even before he realized who her mother was. She had been taken to live at Hogwarts the same year that he had been packed off to a Muggle orphanage. It seemed to have turned her to Dumbledore's side, however, and besides, the person to be angry with in that situation was the Headmaster.

So he followed Mariella into a small nursery. There was a very large crib stuffed to the bursting with large stuffed animals and an even larger, slightly green ball that, apparently, was known as Dudley Dursley. He was obviously very, very sick.

"I was wondering when someone would arrive, but are you what Pomfrey sent?" an old looking woman with deeply scarred lines on her face demanded.

"She's trained me to handle Dragon Pox, I promise you," Mariella responded calmly. "I healed Harry a week ago if you remember."

"Harry had Dragon Pox!" Mundungus demanded loudly, concern for the would-be adopted brother he had barely thought of in years apparent in his voice.

"'Had' being the important word in that sentence, Dung," Mariella replied tartly. Although she was the shortest and youngest person in the room after the babies (for Mundungus saw that there was a dilapidated crib in the far corner that held no toys and a far less large baby), she carried herself like a queen. "Calm down. The problem is, he gave it to little Dudley here."

The woman scoffed. "Dudley Dursley is hardly little," she said derisively. "Now hurry up, his mother will be home soon."

"And you are?" Mundungus demanded.

"Arabella Figg," the woman all but snapped this, nodding her head in his direction. "And you're Mundungus Fletcher. I recognize your eyes. Your sister had a pair just like them. Nice girl. It was Christmas wasn't it?"

"Christmas Eve," Mundungus answered tightly, unable to believe that anyone could be so blunt about something like that.

The doorbell rang downstairs. "Are you going to answer that?" Mundungus asked, turning to the old woman with raised eyebrows.

"You're the useless one in this room, boy, you answer it," she replied gruffly, going over and picking up Harry in a surprisingly tender way as he had been woken by the shouting.

Mundungus knew that Mariella probably thought that she meant well, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to see the boy who would have been his brother. Especially since it didn't look as if these Dursleys were taking proper care of him. Maybe when Mundungus came of age Dumbledore would let him adopt Harry to get him out of here. Or he could kidnap him like Marissa had tried to...

Mundungus turned and walked down the stairs until he reached the door. The last thing he wanted to do today was think about Marissa. He opened the door.

Scratch that. The last thing he wanted to do today was listen to Muggle carollers in funny costumes sing stinking Christmas songs about bleeding peace on earth. Someone really should have told the carollers that.

When "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" got no responses from the teenager who had opened the door, a short dumpy woman reached out and pinched his cheeks. "Oh, Mr. Sourpuss! We're not leaving until you smile for us!"

Mundungus really thought he could have done murder at that moment. "What's your name, lad?" she went on in a voice so sugary that it would have given the Gingerbread man a toothache.

"Mundungus," he said through tightly clenched teeth, thinking that he would probably get rid of them faster by endurance than by argument.

"Well, Merry Christmas, Gus," the lady said with a sickeningly cheerful smile. It was too much. His mind exploded back to his last memory of Marissa. He pushed it forcefully back to this nearly as painful moment in time. Just as they began to sing "Jingle Bells," Mundungus's shaking hands unfortunately found a cricket bat that had been left by the door by Marge Dursley.

His hands closed on it, and his grip tightened as he looked at their wide, happy smiles. "JINGLE ALL THE WAY AWAY FROM ME YOU FREAKS!" he yelled over them, swinging the bat over his head and bringing it crashing down in the midst of them. They were all, despite their obviously low IQs, very good at ducking when necessary and several of the sopranos could have made a career out of screaming if they found the right medium to translate it into.

A few confused seconds later, Arabella Figg and Mariella Goring were wrestling him to the ground and taking the bat from his hands. Mariella was pantingly trying to explain to the panicked carollers as Arabella held him that her "brother" was a not usually dangerous mental patient that she and her aunt had been taking on their nursing rounds. Mundungus felt like warning her that he had atrocious luck with siblings, but words had fled him along with his sense at the painful and totally unnecessary reminder.

Mariella was good at weaving her tale, explaining calmly and quickly with precious few details. It looked as if the carollers were going to buy it and not even press charges when Petunia Dursley returned from shopping and sprinted up the lawn screaming bloody murder about witches and freaks.

Oh yeah, Christmas sucked. Mundungus smiled grimly, but this one is a little better than usual. He felt like laughing but had the distinct feeling that Mariella Goring would curse him into oblivion even in front of the Muggles if he did. Yep, definitely better Christmas than normal.

* * *

Death is all around us. We hear people say how you could be hit by a bus at any moment. We watch the news every night and hear reports about people's lives ending while they were doing perfectly normal, everyday actions. Crossing the street. Visiting the bank. Buying a carton of cigarettes. Walking home from work. People die. Everyone does.

The only way that we get through a day at all is by ignoring it. Think of how differently we would all live our lives if we ever truly realized how close death always is, hovering and menacing.

There is death everywhere. But we don't really, truly realize that until it comes close. Then we think of it as a fluke accident, as something that happened because God blinked or because someone messed up. It's always fate stepping in. What we don't realize is that life is chaos and death is lurking around every corner. We don't think of God stepping in every moment that we drive a car, every time we cook and the stove doesn't explode, everytime that we could have contracted an illness and we don't. We don't see how tirelessly destiny has to protect us until we've fulfilled whatever it is that we're supposed to do on this earth.

Perhaps we won't realize how close death really is until it comes for us. So many things can go wrong at any given moment. It's a miracle that anyone can think of anything else. It's a miracle that we don't spend all of our time not trying to do anything particular except not slip up and fall into one of death's many traps.

The truth is that people don't die because God blinked or because someone messed up. They don't die because fate willed it. God and fate, whichever you prefer to trust, work tirelessly to protect people until the moment that they have completed their work. It may not seem like it, but they know the Plan better than anyone else.

And no one can truly believe that there is no fate and no Master Plan, because otherwise, in the chaos that would reign, death wouldn't just be lurking everywhere, there would be no point in avoiding it. And nothing else would ever get done.

The people who don't believe in a master plan are the ones who hide the most from things that they think will invite Death to choose them next. The thing is, death doesn't have a system for choosing or even a random roulette wheel. It'll take anybody in its path. If you don't believe that Someone or Something is protecting you, you'll always live in fear.

So people ignore death, and that is the sweetest mercy that God could grant humankind, because there is one thing that humans have never been strong enough to deal with. Heroes accept it in a grand, glorious, poetic way. People are willing to say they will die for another. People are willing to take action to sacrifice themselves. People are even capable of taking their own lives. But always the focus is elsewhere, on what they're saving or what their running from or what their protecting. Never what is going to catch up with them.

Most people can ignore death their wholes lives. It doesn't stop him from coming, but it lets you live in the meantime.

The problem is that even though willed ignorance of death is vital to functioning society, it unfortunately means that whenever death comes to us or those we love, whether or not we knew it was coming, it is always a complete surprise and a terrible shock when it eventually does.

There had been silence for a very long time in the Fletcher house when a soft series of clicks could be heard echoing around the noiseless hallways. The clicks travelled through the house in echoes. After a few minutes, there was a final click then a soft 'ping!' and the handle of a door turned.

It creaked slowly open a few inches, and a pair of frightened bright blue eyes peeked out nervously from the shadows. Seeing nothing there, the door swung open wider, the hinges protesting loudly in the penetrating silence. The door pushed a few packages aside aginst the wall, but they were ignored. Standing and taking a few tentative steps, a young boy with his father's dusty hair emerged into the hallway. He looked around nervously. The gray of early dawn shrouded the house in shadows as deep as the silence had been.

There was a darker mass in the middle of the hallway and he approached it carefully. Something caught the growing light with a cheerful flash. He bent down curiously, seeing a hand with a diamond ring on one finger. His eyes stayed stubbornly on that hand for a very long time. It was a young hand he knew well.

Then the ten year old boy forced himself to look at the face of the young woman who lay prostrate on the ground. There was no blood. There were no marks on her body. It was easy for his ignorant and desperate heart to believe that she was only sleeping. It was easy for his tired and distraught brain to ignore the fact that she lay in an awkward position in the middle of the hallway. "Riss," he cried softly, tears coming to his eyes, who were not so good at believing or pretending. "Riss," he said louder, shaking her slightly. "Riss, wake up. Wake up."

Then more demandingly, "Riss, wake up. Riss, please. Riss!" She had never been this stubborn in any of the other times that they had played this game, pretending she could not feel her little brother shaking her awake on Christmas morning. She always gave in before he became too violent in his efforts. But no matter how he tried and no matter how he cried, this time she would not wake.

* * *

Sirius rarely slept late. That description usually depended largely on your definition of sleeping late, of course, but Sirius hardly ever slept more than two minutes later than he had intended to wake up - whether or not he had an alarm clock to help him. This talent made him extremely useful to those who wished to get up early on Christmas morning, like the younger years in Hogwarts. If he had been in Gryffindor Tower, no one would have been permitted to sleep past six that Christmas morning. This gift was, unfortunately, quite a curse on Mr. and Mrs. Potter who had been hoping to sleep in on Christmas morning, especially since James was out of the house.

Actually, because of the hour at which they had been awoken on Sirius's birthday this past summer, they had half-expected an early wake up call. Perhaps not quite so early, but they certainly had expected that Sirius Black would wake up both earlier and louder than they would have preferred. In short, they were prepared.

The rest of the street wasn't.

Sirius Black woke up in darkness. It was still very early, and he had in fact been planning on getting a few more hours sleep, but his eyes fell on the window in the meantime. He saw, very far away, a green light over a series of houses. He stared at it for a long moment, blinking back, wondering if he were dreaming.

But a pure-blood wizard who had even been unsuccessfully recruited by the Dark Lord, who had lived through the reign of terror from the beginning, could not fail to recognize the Dark Mark. The skull and snake were hardly distinguishable, but there was no natural or ordinary and certainly no Muggle cause of that green shape floating over a house in the distance.

His scream of alarm woke not only Mr. and Mrs. David J. Potter, but their next door neighbors as well. When Atlanta Potter sprinted into the bedroom throwing her dressing robe on, looking panicky, Sirius merely pointed out the window. "That's near where I used to live, where Marissa lives too," he added to the empty space in the doorway. Atlanta Potter had already run back downstairs. She took out the spare bag of flour and ran to the fireplace.

"Sirius Black, get down here and light a fire!" she yelled shrilly, grabbing a handful of the flour. "David, get some logs." Her husband obviously had no idea what was going on, but he trusted his wife enough to move quickly.

Sirius came running dazedly down the stairs just as David Potter returned from the woodpile outside. No sooner had he thrown the logs on the fire then Sirius set them flaming. Once there was a proper blaze, Atlanta threw a pinch of flour on it and the flames glowed green.

David quickly put a pillow under his wife's knees as she knelt down and stuck her head fearlessly into the flames. David Potter, who was still a Muggle despite having a wizard son and a Squib wife, flinched involuntarily when she dove into the fire. "The Ministry Emergency Fireplace!" Atlanta called clearly, then her head was gone, spinning rapidly out of sight. David Potter blanched again at that.

A few minutes later, it came spinning back and landed cleanly on her head. Then she drew away from the fireplace. "They'll be there soon, we should go, see if we can help," Mrs. Potter said. Sirius raised his eyebrows at James's parents.

"I'll start the car," Mr. Potter said, starting for his keys immediately. Sirius realized with a start that he still had no idea what was going on. He simply trusted his wife enough not have to have it explained before he acted.

Sirius smiled slightly at the beauty of such a marriage. Perhaps he could find that stability that he had lost in his family again someday in starting his own family. That would mean, unfortunately, the continuation of the Black genes, but then again, Narcissa was continuing them and adding Malfoy ones, so it would be nice to continue them with a mother that gave them half a chance at being decent. In a way, it was his duty to settle down.

Why on earth was he thinking about this now? He was just seventeen. He wasn't Remus for crying out loud. He wasn't chronically afraid that any potential good thing would vanish out of his life as quickly as it came. He wasn't Marissa who seemed to think that she didn't have much time left to let anything get in her way. He wasn't in love with anyone the way that Remus and Marissa were, to the point that it seemed like needless stalling to wait. Or the way that James was in love with Lily even.

He was probably just trying to avoid thinking about the Dark Mark hanging over a house on Christmas morning. True, in the reign of terror that Voldemort was inflicting on wizarding Britain, it certainly wasn't the first time that the Dark Mark had flown over London. Only a few days ago it had flown over Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

But it was Christmas. However much they may say they knew that nothing was sacred to Voldemort, killing on Christmas Eve... It was unthinkable. Could they not have one night of peace? Wasn't that the one thing that Christmas always guaranteed? If for only one day, peace on earth. Wars stopped to celebrate Christmas. Sure, some American general had violated that two hundred years ago, but the British didn't. Christmas was supposed to be sacred. That, Sirius supposed darkly, had been the appeal of using it to the Dark Lord.

Sirius snarled in a very doglike way as he sprinted upstairs and grabbed some clothes and threw them on. A few minutes later, Sirius and the Potters were in the Potters' car in the early morning of Christmas day driving fearfully and certainly not eagerly toward the Dark Mark in the sky. They raced along the streets, trying to beat the sunrise which would make the Mark nearly impossible to see.

They only found the general neighborhood before the sun had fully risen and it was too dark to distinguish the dark green cloud from Christmas lights that hadn't gone out or the London haze and fog. "That looks familiar," Sirius said slowly, his eyebrows wrinkling in consternation as he peered out the window. "I've been here before ... this summer ... Marissa." Sirius closed his eyes as the horror swept over him. He did not see how tightly David Potter was suddenly gripping the wheel or the hand that flew to Atlanta Potter's mouth.

In moments they were in front of Marissa Fletcher's house. It was decorated very prettily with a full nativity scene on the lawn. The Virgin Mary was overturned and baby Jesus had fallen out of his manger. A wreath hanging on the house itself was askew and ribbons were hanging limply off of it.

Sirius jumped out of the car when it was still rolling, but found that he did not have the heart to enter the house. He saw Aurors going to and fro through the windows and could only watch them, the terrible truth sinking in.

Why?

After a long moment, he walked over to the nativity set and pushed Mary back into the upright position. Unfortunately, a large crack split in two under the pressure and the top crashed back to the ground, shattered. Shuddering at this occurence, Sirius gently lifted the baby Jesus back into his manger. It was cold and unfeeling and unresponsive in his hands. But the small baby was smiling happily up at him. He had blue eyes, eyes that reminded him of Marissa's, just the way that she would always find a way to smile and make him smile no matter what terrible things had happened.

The tears came then, and before Sirius knew it, he was doubled up with sobs, clutching the manger with his head hanging down on top of baby Jesus's as he cried. His whole body shook with the force of each sob. This was unthinkable. This was impossible. This was inconceivable. This was something that Sirius had never considered, never feared, never dreamt could happen.

Why? Why? The unthinkable had happened, the unbelievable was undeniable. How had it come to this? How had he come to be here, crouched over a cold, hard statue in the front lawn of his friend's house? How had he come to be racked with tears in this place? This place of laughter and comfort? How had this happened? How had they lost her? Why?

It could have been moments or hours later when Atlanta Potter put her hands on his shoulders and forced him to look up. "We need to go inside now, the reporters are starting to arrive," she said quietly, gently, leading him to the place he had once run to when he needed someone most, the place where he had found comfort on the worst day of his life, the place where he had found a friend who was with him in everything, and the place that was now the last place in the world he wanted to go.

With a series of pops and screeching tires, both wizard and Muggle reporters began to descend on the scene. The shaken and teary Potters led a shattered Sirius Black into the Fletcher Mansion amid the brief flashes of cameras from the gaggle of reporters who had no life and no one to turn to on Christmas morning.

Christmas for Sirius would always have a very different meaning now. Would he be one of them someday? The ones who worked the Christmas shifts? Would they all?

Sirius knew only one thing in that moment. He did not want to see what was inside that house.

* * *

Lily woke up Christmas morning to the sound of James Potter jumping very loudly down the stairs. She groaned and blinked her eyes against the brightly streaming sun from a nearby window. She was shocked that it hadn't woken her earlier, but then again it had taken her a very long time to get to sleep down here last night. "EVANS!" he roared down, heedless of the fact that Lily wanted to lie there and doze off for a very long time. "Evans, where is my Christmas present?" he demanded. He dumped several packages down on top of her and she jumped in surprise, fully awake. "Why didn't I get one from you?"

She groggily stretched and found her foot hitting a few packages. She sat up and looked down at the parcels. There were seven. She mentally ticked off her friends in her head: her father, obviously, and Petunia (it hurt that her mother would never give her another present), Marissa, of course, and it looked like Remus, Sirius and Peter had all sprung for something, but what about the other two? James. Of course James had gotten something for her. He had been giving her framed pictures of himself for the past few years. She shouldn't have been surprised by it.

She hadn't gotten him anything. Obviously. Then again, maybe not so obviously. After all, they had only been fighting the last few weeks in December. And before the Sirius fight they had always been great friends, they had astounded each other with the perfect gifts every Christmas. It was only the last year that she hadn't gotten anything for James. And they had been trying to be friends again. Even if it wasn't sucessfully, their attempt should have warranted a Christmas present. Lily just wasn't used to think of James Potter as someone she had to get something for anymore.

But if she admitted it to herself, his present used to be the one that she looked forward to the most. It was the one that she saved for last, knowing that all the other presents would be overshadowed by it. It had been the one she reached for first in the morning, however, the one she shook and weighed in her hands. It had been the one she was most excited to receive only two Christmases ago.

It seemed much longer than that. Then again, she and Sirius had broken up in February, so they'd gotten a whole year out of the way almost before the next Christmas.

Lily set aside this monologue and looked up at the expectant face of James Potter who had his arms crossed over his chest. "I burned it when you said all those terrible things to me," she lied.

"Well, what did you get me?" James demanded, sitting down in the armchair next to her makeshift bed and handing her the wand she had put on it. Lily wondered if he knew that she was lying. He had always been able to tell back when they had been friends.

"It will always be a mystery," Lily said, sitting up.

"So even Christmas can't convince you to set aside the grudge?" James said in a voice that wasn't really hurt. He sounded almost bemused. "Come on, Lily, peace on earth and good will to James, what do you say?"

Lily actually smiled. Now, for those who are disappointed in her, it was early, and it was Christmas. It could at least be said for her that she recovered very quickly and gave him a scowl. "Well, I'll open your present at least," she said as she sat fully up with a sigh and rearranged the pillow behind her to be more comfortable. "Would you get your presents off me?" she demanded sharply.

James complied, taking a long look at a small one that rested atop a much larger and heavier package. He smirked in a way that had frightened her even when they were friends. In a way, their new relationship was an improvement. What once would have terrified her now only made her roll her eyes. Then again, it had been a very pleasant thrill of fear.

Lily brushed it aside and reached down for her own pile of presents. She found the one that was from James, it wasn't difficult as it was the biggest one in the mix. She obligingly opened the package, not sure yet whether or not she would pretend that she liked it.

Not, she decided when she saw that another box was wrapped up inside it. "Just what I've always wanted," she said sarcastically.

"Just open it," James laughed. Lily did, and the one inside it, and the one inside it, and the one inside it, until she finally unwrapped a box that contained a small sprig of mistletoe.

Lily sent him a glare, "In your dreams, Potter," she said, tossing it in the nearby fire which, thanks to James's charm last night, was still crackling merrily.

"Open the other one, Lily, please," James said, reaching over and grabbing a smaller box in the pile. He held it out to her and she took it. The card attached read, 'To Lily from someone who is very, very sorry.' She looked up at him in surprise, "I thought that I should up the bribe after all the stupid things I said, and I am very sorry Lily."

Lily said nothing as she took off the wrapping and untied the red bow. She opened the small box and beheld what, at first glance, was an unattractive silver bracelet. She pulled it out and saw that there was something written on what looked like a tag in the middle of the bracelet. Well, it was actually too small to be a bracelet but still much too large to be a ring. Engraved in the silver was the word 'Morgan' in fancy script.

"What is this, James?" she asked looking up at him in surprise.

"Turn it over," James replied with a slight, actually sincere smile on his face.

Lily turned it over and read aloud, "Premium owl collars?" She turned in disbelief to James. "No! Potter, you didn't!" she cried in disbelief.

"Would you like to see her?" he asked.

"Yes!" Lily cried in excitement and lingering disbelief. "Oh James, what possessed you to buy me an owl?"

"Who said anything about buying an owl? That there's just the letter tie for the leg," James smirked even as a dark red owl swooped obediently into the Common Room. Lily gasped in surprise, delight, and dismay. "I don't know where she came from," James added with a growing smirk. "But I bet she'll answer to Morgan."

"How did you know just what I would have named her?" Lily asked as the beautiful owl landed on James's arm and he transferred her to Lily's.

"Easy, it's my middle name," James smirked at her. Lily felt like laughing. James had sure known how to apologize.

"And my mother's name," Lily murmured, stroking the lovely owl gently. "Is that just a coincidence?" Then she stopped and looked at James, "Really, James, it's too much. I know you probably can't afford a-"

"Madagascar red owl," James told her authoritatively. "And it was worth every penny and every odd job to hear you call me James." Lily opened her mouth to protest the extravagance of the gift again, but James spoke again before she could, "I knew how badly I messed up earlier this month. I knew that before I could even apologize I needed to do something to get you to listen to me. I miss you, Lily, I miss being your friend; believe it or not I'd settle for that. Getting you to listen to me was worth depleting the new broom fund I had going."

"You sure know how to apologize," Lily said under the breath, staring at him as if she had never seen him clearly before. James heard it anyway.

"So, did I buy my way out of trouble?" James joked with a smirk.

"Oh boy, yeah," Lily murmured. "I'll even buy you a Christmas present next year." James smiled. Lily adjusted her weight very carefully so as not to disturb her owl, "Did you know how much I wanted an owl, James?" she asked as she carefully put the "bracelet" tie around the owl's leg. "To have a way to talk to all of you over the summer, and one of my own at home, and it would annoy Petunia to no end!"

James laughed, "You haven't changed through all of this, have you Lily?" He reached over and showed her how to attach letters to the small, expensive-looking legtie. "Now you can send me all those love letters you've hidden away in your drawer."

"In your dreams, Potter," Lily said, but it could not have been more different from the way that she had said it only a few moments ago. She laughed, "James, do you still know me so well after all this time?"

James wisely said nothing in response to this.

"Where am I going to keep her?" Lily cried, wonderingly staring at her owl.

James laughed and reached over to grab the second largest box at the foot of the couch. "Remus can provide for that," James said, offering it to her. "He chipped in a little bit for Morgan too. He's under the impression, by the way, that he needs to win you over. You did, after all, throw a fit at the engagement party. He really wants to marry your best friend, and he's trying to buy your approval."

"Oh he has it," Lily said, opening the paper. "He didn't need to buy me anything for that," she unwrapped a simple, elegant cage that matched the legtie. "Not that this isn't sweet," she said with a good-natured laugh at herself. "Remus and Marissa are so perfect, I wasn't mad about him." A shadow crossed Lily's face.

"I need to go get dressed," she said, the shadow growing in her eyes. James was disturbed by how quickly she had changed, how quickly she had gone from happiness to worry. "I need to go check on - I need to go get dressed."

Not even glancing at the rest of her gifts, Lily stood up so quickly that Morgan had to flap her wings to stay on her arm. Lily immediately began to all but run forward, causing Morgan to let out a hoot of protest and take off through a window.

Lily gave a cry of astonishment and turned around in surprise. "She's just gone to stay at the Owlery," James said, walking over until he was standing between Lily and the staircase to the dormitories. He tried to keep his eyes from sweeping over her body which, now that it was uncovered from the quilt, was rather revealed in her nightgown.

"Oh, all right, well, I guess I'd better go then," Lily said, recovering and getting the frantic look back in her eyes. She turned to push past him when James had another idea. Casting a quick charm in the direction of the threshold to the staircases, he let her go.

He followed her to the bottom of the steps. However, when she started to go up, he caught her arm. He pointed up with his other hand, "Lily, I'm afraid we've been caught under the mistletoe."

"You caught us under the mistletoe!" Lily cried, indignantly swatting him on the arm. "And how? I destroyed it!"

"The one I gave you, yes, but not the one that Marissa gave me with a little note attached, 'Use it well.'" James replied simply.

"You - you - if you think I'm going to kiss you!" Lily said. Then, to James's great surprise, a mischievous smile very much like her best friend's lit up on her face. "You're going to have to catch me first," she declared, sliding easily past him in his surprise and taking off across the Common Room.

James was after her in a moment. After a few minutes of chasing each other around couches and armchairs (and over them occasionally as well), it felt remarkably like it used to be between Lily and James. And James was gaining on her as she sprinted, laughing, toward the staircase. It was a much better strategy for getting away from him than her last plan as he couldn't come up the staircase. Unfortunately for her, James caught her arm just before she could go up them.

"Now, Lily, it's not really so bad," James said with a devilish smirk. "It's a rule that's got to be followed." He slid his hand down to hers. "However, I can think of a way that's not too painful," he said, bringing her hand up to his lips and giving it a quick kiss.

Lily actually smiled at him, "I'd thank you, Potter, but you're the one who put that dratted mistletoe there in the first place," Lily said harshly, but she was teasing for once. It was good to feel, even though it was probably only for a day, that he might have his old friend back. After all, he and Lily had made a similar step forward before only to take ten or so steps back.

She started to go up again, but James immediately stepped up onto the staircase to stop her, "Now, just a minute, Evans, that was only for the first time we were caught under the mistletoe," he laughed as the stairs began to shift under his feet. "It's been two times now," he added as he slid back down to the Common Room.

Lily, several feet farther up, came sliding back to the ground far faster. James threw out his arms to catch her, but she was thrown forward at the last minute and her face ended up thrown against James's. His lips landed on her forehead and her chin banged against his chest. They both stayed absolutely still for a moment as if afraid to move. "Well, I suppose that's the second kiss," James said softly.

"Take that dratted mistletoe down and I'll give you the third," Lily said quietly. James banished the mistletoe as Lily carefully stepped away from James Potter's embrace. She gave him a peck on the cheek, "Thank you for the owl, James."

Then she turned and looked back up at the stone slide. "You'll never climb back up it, believe me we've tried," James said. Lily turned to him with a suspicious glare, "Well, Marissa's put so many practical jokes in our room it's not unnatural that we'd want to retaliate," he defended himself staunchly. "And anyway, Evans, it's time for the Christmas feast."

"I can't go like this!" Lily cried in frustration, pointing down at her nightgown.

It took a great effort, but James managed not to look. This peace with Lily was too fragile to be caught ogling her. "Well, I know a charm that can help that," James said, taking out his wand. In a few sharp wand movements, he had lengthened the nightgown and thickened the material until it felt like a normal dress. Then he tightened it around the waist and made a few other improvements before stepping back and casting an appraising eye over his work - and his model. "There you are."

Lily moved to the mirror over the mantleplace and stood back enough to look at the dress James had made for her. It wasn't stunning - it couldn't be with little Santa Clauses all over it - but it was passable and even made a quite fine Christmas dress. "How did you learn to do that?"

"Stumbled across it in a book of grooming charms," James said. "We were all trying to figure out how we could sleep later, and back then I actually thought it'd be nice to have more manageable hair."

"And you just remembered it for all these years and did it perfectly for the first time?" Lily demanded in slight awe.

"Well, not perfectly, it was supposed to have a low neckline and be a miniskirt," James said mischieviously. Lily wacked him on the arm.

"All right, let's go down and eat," Lily said starting toward the Portrait Hole. Despite how far he was willing to go to stay in Lily's good graces, he couldn't resist not pointing out that she was still wearing her fluffy house slippers.

The few others at the castle were less disturbed than they had been in the past to see Lily and James sitting together on Christmas chatting amiably. James wondered idly how long the owl gratitude would last him. A few days? A few weeks? February? Probably not. Oh well, it would be good to be around Lily while it lasted.

And with Marissa pulling her usual stunts, that might not be very long. James had half-hoped that the mistletoe would be the extent of her Christmas pranks. She always left something behind in the castle to cause them grief in her absence. Somehow, every year, it turned out to surprise him. He had thought he knew the extent of her reach last year when she asked him, out of the blue, to borrow the Invisibility Cloak. What was almost more disturbing, at the time, than the fact that she had known about it was that she could have known about it for any length of time. Now they weren't so worried. She certainly hadn't reacted badly when she did find out about their big secret.

However, James would have considered the Christmas crackers out of her league just as much as he had considered the Invisibility Cloak before last year. However, when he and Lily pulled one together, they found a white veil and a black top hat. On the veil, just so that they would know for sure that it wasn't a coincidence, were written the words, "Mrs. James Potter" and on the top hat "Mr. Lily Evans."

Lily looked surprised and almost angry for a moment, then she rolled her eyes. "Marissa," she sighed with a shake of her head. Then, to his complete surprise, she put on the white veil, pushing it back so that she could finish her pudding. James stared at her with a very stupid expression on his face as she casually took a dainty bite. She looked up at him and laughed again, "Look, don't let it go to your head, this isn't about you," she told him.

"I see, so you're not wearing a wedding veil with 'Mrs. James Potter' written on it?" James said, still staring at her in shock.

"I am, but not because of anything directly to do with you, however nice the owl was," Lily said, looking very amused as James stared at her dubiously. "It's the same reason that I was willing to touch your boxers back on the train," she explained, it hitting her how very, very odd this conversation would sound to someone listening in. "Because Marissa doesn't think that I will. Well, she's not aloud to know everything, I've decided."

"Whatever you say, Evans," James said, shaking his head and putting the top hat on it. "Hey, if proving Marissa wrong means that you have to wear that around all day, so be it," he smirked at her cheekily. She swatted him on the arm. "Sweetie, don't be like that," James said. She hit him again, a little harder this time. "So should I get you a ring like Remus?" James continued, never one to be silenced. Lily hit him hard on the head, nearly dislodging the top hat. James only laughed. Lily gave him a dirty look, but she was laughing soon too.

"This doesn't change anything, Potter," Lily warned him sternly.

"I know, Lily," he said. "I guess it's time I admitted that it's okay for you to not like me."

"Took you long enough to figure that out," Lily said somewhat huffily.

"Well, you do do a few things that have set me off track," James said, nodding at the veil. "And I am, in general, greatly admired."

"Merry Christmas, Potter, don't ruin it," Lily replied simply.

After a jolly Christmas dinner, they both decided to dash up to their rooms for their cloaks then have a snowball fight. They raced back up to Gryffindor Tower laughing, the top hat and veil askew from the numerous near collsions on the race up to the Tower. Lily threw it off and left it on top of the blanket with the rest of the Christmas presents that, in the excitement over Morgan, she had left unopened.

"See you in a minute, Potter," she cried with a very attractive laugh in her voice as she dashed up the stairs in her dormitory. James stayed there for a minute looking up at the winding staircase before he turned to go.

Lily had reached her door just as he was beginning to turn to head back to his own room to change. It was the first time all break that she hadn't been opening the door simply to check on Marissa's well-being. It was the first time all break that she wasn't imagining the sight that met her when she threw the door open.

The laugh died halfway through. The smile dropped off her face as if it weighed a thousand pounds. The initial shock lasted only a split second before she let out a shrill scream and slammed the door shut again to block out the sight. She stared at the door in petrified horror, breathing heavily.

James whirled around and called up the stairs worriedly, "Lily! Lily, what's wrong?"

Lily did not hear him. She threw the door open again, and screamed again as she stared at the room. This was the sight that she had feared all holiday. This was the sight that she had slept in the Common Room all holiday in order to check for it every morning. This was the sight that she had thought she prepared herself for. And this was the sight that she had never really expected to see.

"Lily! Lily!" James was calling more and more frantically when he received no answer except for another scream. "Lily, what's wrong? Damn it, Lily, answer me!" Lily did not even hear him. James felt tethered by the stupid rule and the stupid staircase. "Oh bugger it all," he cried aloud suddenly, springing up the stairs four at time so that he would be a good distance up when the staircase changed into a slide.

He needn't have bothered, in emergencies, guys can go to the aid of girls even in their Dormitories. It even signals McGonagall.

"LILY!" James cried, dashing up the stairs and, as he made a turn, seeing her staring numbly into what he assumed was her room. She did not appear to hear him, but turned and ran away as if deathly afraid of whatever was in there.

James barely caught her as she ran fully force down the stairs, not seeming to see him in her way. He caught her in her arms and tried to hold her, but she still pushed away, tears and sobs shaking her whole body as she pulled against his arm, only managing to fall forward and pull James with her as she landed half sprawled on the stairs, James Potter holding her tightly in his arms as she cried and cried.

James looked up over her head through the open door and peered into her room. At first glance, nothing looked amiss. There was a four poster bed much like his own and a vanity and wardrobe. Minus the vanity and all the decorations and personal touches that the girls had added to their room, it was exactly like his own. He pulled Lily slowly closer to the door until he could see all the way inside. He still did not see anything frightening and certainly not something terrible enough to produce a reaction like this.

It took him much longer than it had Lily to realize that the terrible part was what he was not seeing. "Where's all of Marissa's things?" James asked aloud. Lily's sobs doubled. James looked just inside the door and saw a few large cardboard boxes on which were written the words, "For the family of O. Fletcher."

James lost the strength to hold his head up and buried his face in Lily's red hair. He was stunned. He was in shock and couldn't even see, much less think, straight as his whole world reeled out of control around him. Denial and unanswerable questions swirled, always ducking away from the truth that had taken up residence as a cold pit in his stomach.

He pulled Lily closer to him, clutching at her in fear and confusion and grief that made his mind spin and his heart splinter. This couldn't be true. It couldn't. If it was, the world must surely be coming to an end. It couldn't mean that Marissa was dead. He couldn't think what in the world it could mean, but it couldn't mean that. But the seemingly endless stream of hot tears that drenched his chest as Lily shook and cried in his arms testified to the undeniable truth. When his own tears began to roll steadily down his face, and the stillness settled over him, he knew that somewhere deep in his heart, he already knew what that half-empty room meant.

* * *

It always took much more time and was much more unpleasant for Remus to wake up and recover from the full moon at his parent's home. It didn't help that they occassionally forgot to fetch him at sunrise and sometimes left him there until late morning. Actually, that had only been two times, but that was bad enough and certainly sufficient to create the illusion that they could do it again at any time.

They didn't that Christmas morning, however. He spent it painfully and carefully washing his wounds without Madam Pomfrey there to do it magically and most of the afternoon healing them. It was always harder to rely on his werewolf quick-healing tendency than to simply drag himself up to the hospital wing. It was early evening before he felt like getting out of bed without the energy and strength potions.

He walked down to the kitchens and filled a plate with the Christmas dinner his parents had had without him. His parents' whole lives were a show, even when there was no one to watch. Even with their son recovering from spending the night as a monster, they still had to have a "family" Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. Not, of course, that they ate it together.

Remus found his mother sitting at the far end of the large, grand dining room sipping tea as she read the Evening Prophet. He sat down next to her and began to eat, feeling ravenously hungry but pacing himself because of his cursed good breeding. He was rather surprised when his mother spoke. "The Dark Mark was seen over another Muggle house," Evelyn Lupin said calmly. "In London again, poor city, not that I suppose anywhere in the country is safe. This doesn't look quite like a sport killing like the last few, however; very rich neighborhood."

Remus didn't bother to feign interest or stop her from rambling on. "It's odd though, killed the father and the daughter, a witch, but spared the son. He showed them a closet he'd been hiding in so loaded with enchantments it's little wonder the Death Eaters left him alone. Goodness only knows why they wanted to kill the family, though. Aurors aren't really that interested in the case, but it seems strange to me. What's this family?" she said all of this while skimming the article.

She stopped talking for a long moment. "Remus," she said slowly, sounding almost worried. "What did you say your fiancee's name was?"

"Wow, you even said that without wincing," Remus said, looking up from his food at her. "Marissa Fletcher."

"Oh my dear boy," she said softly, looking at him with compassion on her face. Remus wondered briefly how long it had been since she looked at him like that, like a real mother. How long had it been since she called him dear? A very, very long time. She held out the newspaper to him with a kind look, as if she could not bear to tell himwhat she had read in it.

He took it slowly, carefully, reading the headline of the fifth page story. Muggle House Attacked didn't even rate a front page. Marissa would have a cow about that, Remus thought idly. Then he looked down at the picture of the house with the Dark Mark above it, the broken manger scene on the lawn.

Remus's heart froze. "That's - that's Riss's house," he said dully.

"Oh my dear boy, I'm so sorry," his mother said kindly and caringly, pulling him into her arms for the first time in years. Remus was stiff and unresponsive in her arms as he stared at the picture, looking at the article, until the words "killing Jerome and Marissa Fletcher" were burned in his mind in the thin paper and block type. He stared until they became real.

He didn't cry like James and Sirius or scream and sob like Lily, but something died in Remus Lupin that day all the same. Marissa had made him express things he usually hid. She had brought him out of his shell. It was understandable, then, that her death made him bury himself inside it again. He would never fully come out again.

* * *

It was raining, pouring actually, in the tropics. Peter was sitting and staring out the window into the downpour as he had been doing all holiday when he saw several post owls fighting their way through the storm. When they were only ten feet away, Peter through open the large window and let the bedraggled birds fall into his room.

There were three. One was Remus's usually preened and perfect-looking family owl, the other was Sirius's jet black owl and the third was the peculiar red owl that James had been hunting down for Lily. What would they all have to write to him about today? He had already received their Christmas presents.

Peter bent down and took the letters from their legs, Sirius's owl snapping at him as if he still smelled rat on Peter. Peter ignored him and looked at the wet and barely discernible letters. He read the first sentence and stopped, looking up in alarm. He subconsciously crumbled the letter he had opened and shredded the others without realizing what he was doing.

He dropped the pieces of parchment and immediately began to pace the length of the room, not caring when his path brought him into the wind and rain pouring through the still open window. This was his fault. He knew it. No! He hadn't told them where she lived!

He dove down for the still whole letter and smoothed it out feverishly. He read the whole thing this time, anger building inside him and something very important dying. He crumbled it up again and dropped it on the ground. They hadn't killed her brother, and hadn't he always kept that information from them? So it was his information that they had used after all. But I never gave them her address! his mind protested wildly.

Then his mind recalled a small detail that he had not even really noticed on that suddenly so distant day in King's Cross. After he had watched Remus declared his undying love for her to the entire trainstation (an unpleasant enough memory in itself), he had seen a figure following her out. They had been watching her. Oh Merlin, they had followed her home.

Peter hung his head. She knew. He had wondered all holiday if she knew. The way that she had asked him to talk to her, the way that she had looked at him (however briefly) after Snivellus looked at him like that. She had known after all, so the Dark Lord had killed her to protect him.

He ran to the bedside table, grabbed the alarm clock, and threw it at the mirror on the opposite side of the room with a great cry. Damn the seven years of bad luck; he was cursed for life.

* * *

Severus Snape discovered a note placed in his trunk the day after the holiday began. It contained a very cryptic riddle.

"The half-blood shall soon be divided. Let it not divide you. On a day of births and deaths, let you remain unchanged, or you cannot hide any more than she. A stable for the dogs, power for the their enemies. Unless you let Muggle ways entice you."

It took Severus most of his holiday to decipher it. The second word, "half-blood" threw him for a very long time. "Unless you let Muggle ways entice you" seemed to point to Marissa. He was being warned about Marissa? About his connection to her? How? Did they know that he had warned her? Snape hadn't thought that he would be warned if they found out.

Everyone knew about his attachment to her now since that fight on the Platform. He had even yelled at Pettigrew, so that secret too may now be known, but why send him a riddle to tell him this? Who would be divided? Himself?

But no, it said "Let it not divide you." Let not the division of the half-blood divide your loyalties. Let not the division of the enticer to "Muggle ways" from himself, the half-blood, divide him from his Master?

But, yet again, the riddle pointed to something different. It mentioned a specific time, meaning that it was about a specific event. Could "On a day of births and deaths" mean the winter solstice? The death of one season as it passed into another? Or the New Year? But no, those would be only one death and one birth, unless it was a threat of that nature. In that case, did they mean merely a day of birth that would become a day of death? For whom? For him if he let himself be divided from his Master?

One line was most definitely a threat, and also the most explicit, "Or you cannot hide any more than she." It was a threat to Marissa. Did they intend to hold her hostage? To actually kidnap her or merely remind him of the constant danger that she was in? They could control him that way, that was what Severus Snape hated most about Marissa Fletcher.

No, it was talking about a specific event that he was not to let affect him. It was on a day of births and deaths that his loyalties would be tested, when he could not be loyal to Marissa and the Dark Lord any longer. The riddle warned that he must not hesitate and that his loyalties must not sway. Or she would be killed.

But, he realized slowly, it did not say that she would be killed if the division came and he was not strong. It said that he would not be able to hide just as she had been unable to hide. They were going to kill her. Or at least attack her. But when? "On a day of births and deaths" was hardly explicit. What was a day of birth that they could change into a day of death?

Here the second to last line proved its usefulness. "A stable for the dogs, power for their enemies." That was what would come of the "day of births and deaths" if he stood strong, power for him. But the first part of the sentence told him when. He knew the Christmas story. He knew that the baby Jesus was born in a stable. Christmas Day. They were going to kill her on Christmas day.

It was five o'clock in the evening on Christmas Day that Severus Snape finally deciphered the last of the riddle. He left immediately. Where to go was another problem. However, the Snapes had an owl that they used for such purposes. He was the old breed of post owl that could find anyone without directions. He grabbed his old broom and followed the owl all the way to London, nearly losing him twice in the growing dark. It was bitterly cold, but he only urged the owl on faster.

It was late before he set down outside of a house without the typical gaudy display of Christmas lights as the rest of the street was displaying. He made his way to her door and pushed it open without knocking. There was no time for that. It had taken him hours to get here and they could arrive at any moment. "MARISSA!" he called out in the echoing hallways. "Damn you, Fletcher, answer me!"

"I thought as much," a soft voice practically hissed from the corner of a room. Snape whirled around with his wand drawn.

"Show yourself," he snarled at the darkness.

"Lumos," came a soft mutter and a cold light displayed the face of Igor Karkaroff, the shadows playing over his face in a truly ghastly way. Snape was silenced in pure confusion. "If you're looking for the Mudblood, she's in that room just over there. The morgue is coming around to pick her up in the morning. Turns out that they don't work on Christmas; at least, not enough people to cover all of the business they get. Isn't that sad?"

"Say what you mean, Karkaroff," Snape snarled.

"I mean just this," he said. "You're one day too late, Snape."

"You sent me that idiotic riddle," Snape said with a snarl, pointing his wand directly at Karkaroff's heart.

"Yes, and it was all true, except for the day of course," Karkaroff said. "What I wanted to know was if she had really divided your loyalties after all. You told her about Pettigrew, didn't you? That was why you weren't told about him, did you know that? Because we were afraid of her influence on you. It turns out we were right."

"I am a Death Eater," Snape said, throwing his head back proudly and firmly. "I do not answer for what I do to the likes of you. Not when your note did not say anything about my Lord wanting her dead."

"Yes, because there are so many other people running around killing Mudbloods for the fun of it in England," Karkaroff said sarcastically. "Don't try to use such a weak excuse. It's below the half-blood prince."

"I didn't know who was killing her, if I had known it was Master I would have - "

"I don't think that you want to know the answer to that question," Karkaroff said softly. "Not the real one at least. It would only confuse you. She was killed to save Pettigrew's idiot neck, but her death may have saved your life as well. Now that she's gone you can shake off the hold she had over you. There is no one else that you even come close to loving, Snape, so there is nothing else standing in your way."

"What do you want from me, Karkaroff?"

"To know that our Master has what he wants, what you promised him," Karkaroff said. "Your soul." He, finally, pointed his wand back at Snape. "The half-blood has been divided. Which side did you end up on, Snape?"

Snape sneered at him and gave a mirthless laugh, "She never divided me from my loyalties, Karkaroff. She does not have that power in death. I would have protected her from any other foes, that I admit, but I obey my Lord before all others."

"Good," Karkaroff said. "Then go home."

Snape turned and whirled around, wanting to be out of the house before even the Occlumency prodigy in him showed some dangerous emotion in his mind. It was after this successful test, when he was able to hide even his first devasted reaction to her death and his failure of her, that he was sure enough in his abilities to put them to an even greater test. There were other Occlumens in those dark days that could have hidden their thoughts and memories from the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore respectively, though not many. There was only one who dared either feat.

His obviously divided loyalties and his absolute certainty about how to regain the Dark Lord's graces were what prompted Igor Karkaroff to come to Severus Snape for help in the year of his Second Rising. Severus Snape, after all, knew how to spin a betrayal.

"Oh, by the way, can't have you running around knowing about Pettigrew until you've proved what you just said to be true, Obliviate."

Snape wished, in the half of a second that he had before the curse hit, that Karkaroff could have erased Marissa Fletcher from his mind entirely.

---

©KatyMulvaney5-18-2005