When Masks Fall

When Masks Fall

Chapter 1: "The weakest goes to the wall."

-Romeo and Juliet, (Act I, Scene I)

Lily Evans wasn't a fan of Divination class with the Slytherins, but she supposed there were worse things. James Potter trying to act all cool at the breakfast table was a case in point. What was his problem? Why did he have to be such a conceited prat?

"All right, class!" Professor Heller called suddenly, clapping his hands together. "Today we're going to have an odd sort of Divination lesson, one that will probably remind you more of Potions than Divination in fact, but take my word for it - you'll be pleased with the results. First, take out the cauldrons I asked you to bring and follow the steps I've printed on the blackboard, then bring me a sample of your Second Sight Potion by the end of class. Next session we'll use what you've made for scrying, but only if what you've made is any good. Any failures result in a zero for the day."

Most of the class groaned at Professor Heller's instructions, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike. Regular Potions class with Professor Slughorn was difficult enough, but to have an additional go at it with the oldest, meanest teacher in the school was not a prospect that any of the students enjoyed.

Lily, with thoughts of Potter's arrogant little smirk and early morning antics still chewing at her, paid Heller only a cursory amount of attention. But what business did Potter have being on her mind while she was supposed to be working, anyway?

With a sigh, she forced herself to obey Professor Heller's first instruction and set up her cauldron. She then frowned up at the board and carefully began to follow the steps that were written there. A fussy, volatile old man, Heller had selected a concoction that was as ill-tempered as he was, and Lily was not about to rush through the procedure and risk mistakes.

It took her about ten minutes to work her way through steps one and two, which was a little slower than she would've liked. The problem was that she was still stewing about Potter's obnoxious behavior at the breakfast table that morning. Having to watch him in the act of eating was bad enough, but when he'd glanced over at her before leaning across the table to get Sirius Black's attention, she'd known he was up to something.

"You know what happens to people at St. Mungo's, Sirius?" James had asked, working around his mouthful of porridge.

Sirius had immediately stopped poking at his eggs, a grin spreading across his face.

"What?"

Allowing his mouth to fall slack, James had forced porridge to glop down the side of his face and fall back into his bowl in clumps.

"They get Obliiiiviaaated!" he droned like a zombie, his tongue lolling nastily around the outside of his mouth.

In utter disgust, Lily had stood up and left the breakfast table. Not only was Potter not taking into consideration that people overhearing might have family in St. Mungo's, he was just being mean. What kind of person would make fun of people so rattled by magical spells that they were unable to care for themselves anymore?

And now here was Potter in class, sharing a spot with Sirius again, just as arrogant and awful as before.

"I wouldn't d-do that if I were you," a voice said softly from her left a few minutes later, interrupting her thoughts of James Potter's ridiculous hair and ever-slipping glasses. "You d-don't want to add that salamander blood just yet."

Blushing a little at her obvious mistake, Lily hastily put down her vial of salamander blood and picked up the frozen ashwinder egg instead, then stole a glance over at her rescuer.

"Thanks," she murmured, embarrassed to admit that she hadn't even heard Quirinus Quirrell sit down beside her and set up his cauldron. "I don't know where my mind's at."

Smiling a little, Quirrell shook his head at her. A lock of his hair, brown and neatly trimmed, bobbed down against his forehead.

"It's nothing," he told her. "I just thought I'd help."

Unsure what she should say to this, Lily compromised by making a show of tucking her own hair behind her ears and pushing up the sleeves of her robes. Maybe if she looked busy, she wouldn't have to keep talking about the foolish error she'd almost made.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Quirrell's smile fall and realized that it seemed like she was giving him a bit of a brush-off. Now doubly embarrassed, she strove to think of something that would assure him that she was thankful, but would also change the subject.

"Not to be mean," she said, "but I never expected to have a Slytherin help me in Divination. So, thank you."

For a moment, Quirrell didn't reply. He was too busy marking the counterclockwise stirs of his cauldron. When he was done, he put down his staff and looked over at her. She flipped over her five-minute hourglass so that she'd know when to add her salamander blood, and then turned back to him, waiting for him to speak.

"Not all Slytherins are like them," he told her, nodding in the direction of his classmates.

Like most of the other Gryffindors, the Slytherin students sat in tight clusters throughout the classroom. There were two to a table in Divination, and she and Quirrell happened to be the odd ones out today.

Most of the time, Quirrell sat alone while Lily shared a table with one of her girlfriends. Today though, she'd been running late, and rather than disrupt the class by going to the front where her friends were, she had settled for the empty table in the back of the room. Apparently Quirrell had also arrived late and suffered a similar problem, deciding that it was preferable to join her in back than go up front with the other Gryffindor girls. She supposed she couldn't blame him.

Shifting her eyes across the room to take in the other Slytherins Quirrell had indicated, Lily noted that Bellatrix Black was seated beside a girl whose name Lily could never remember. The girl's carroty hair and stubby, misused face gave her the look of a child's crudely carved jack-o-lantern. Lily found this arrangement odd, since Black usually sat with her boyfriend, Rodolphus Lestrange, and wondered idly if the two had argued earlier.

The pumpkin-faced girl seemed delighted to have the elegant Black next to her, though every time Bellatrix glanced over at her partner, a wrinkle of disgust formed on her features that wouldn't quite dissipate until she rubbed the prefect's badge on her chest like a lucky charm.

Dismissing them, Lily moved on to examine the other Slytherin students.

Severus Snape had his head lowered over his cauldron and Rodolphus Lestrange (sitting beside Snape, today) was studying the instructions on the blackboard with an almost mind numbing concentration. They were the exceptions, however. Their other friends, Rosier, Wilkes and Avery, were laughing and glancing over at where James Potter and Sirius Black were sitting and minding their own business.

Lily thought the three boys looked like they were up to something, but there was nothing in sight to incriminate them; nothing that exploded, nothing that stank, and nothing that injured...so perhaps they were just poking fun at James and Sirius and thinking that they were funny in doing so.

James and Sirius (oblivious to their spectators) were behaving themselves for a change. Both boys appeared to be more intent on following the instructions on the blackboard than on what was going on around them. They would pause every once in a while to confer over the directions, then return to tending their cauldrons. Twice while she was watching, James's glasses slid down his nose. He pushed them up without thinking, and she suddenly realized she was staring.

Trying to ignore the color again rising to her cheeks, Lily looked back at Quirrell with a frown, not exactly sure what point he was trying to make.

She could already tell he wasn't like the other Slytherin boys in his year by the shiny prefect's badge which glittered against his robes, the counterpart to Bellatrix Black's. Then, of course, there was the fact that he'd bothered to sit with and speak to her in the first place.

"Not all Slytherins are like what, exactly?" She urged, unsatisfied. She thought she knew what he was driving at, but just pointing out his fellow 5th years and asking her to read into them was not very helpful.

Quirrell watched her a moment longer, as if waiting for her to catch on, his eyes holding hers. She was struck suddenly by how enormous and blue they were. They were a lovely, vivid shade of cornflower blue, but they were so big that they gave him the air of a frightened rabbit - or, even worse - a frightened squirrel.

Though Quirrell was a little taller than she was, he was slender and still small for his age, and his round, childish face did nothing to help matters. Adding in his stutter and his unfortunate surname, he was a ready-made target for bullies - which Rosier, Wilkes, Black, and Avery definitely were. Even Snape got in on the 'fun' sometimes. No doubt it was refreshing for him to pick on someone even lower in the hierarchy than he was.

Equally as unpopular throughout Hogwarts as Severus Snape, Quirinus Quirrell suffered an additional handicap (aside from a slowly improving stutter): even in Slytherin House, he had no friends. Granted, Snape's friends could be petty and cruel to one another, but at least they were there.

Lily had never really paid Quirrell much mind before now, but she'd seen him being pushed around and teased before...not too badly, but enough to know that his Housemates despised him even more than people outside of Slytherin House did. Glancing again at his badge, she wondered if prefecture had made his lot any easier.

"Belief in pureblood eugenics and a streak of cruelty d-do not a Slytherin make," he answered a few seconds later, once again looking over at his Housemates.

Lily raised her eyebrows.

"No? You're not all like that? What got you into Slytherin, then?" She said this more aggressively than she'd intended, but noticed that he didn't seem perturbed by it. He merely glanced at her hourglass to see how much time had passed since she'd turned it, stirred his potion clockwise twice, and then turned back to her.

"Well, the Sorting Hat thought about putting me in Ravenclaw, actually, but it must have realized something about me."

This made Lily sit up and take notice. Intrigued against her will, she leaned toward him a little. In their five years at Hogwarts together, she'd never heard Quirrell speak more than perhaps two dozen words, half of which he'd stuttered to the point that they'd become incomprehensible. Of course, as were she and Snape, Quirrell was a member of Professor Slughorn's club of students, but even in such a small group, Quirrell never spoke. He merely sat and listened, all but fading into the background of the room as other people with more force outshone him. Snape had once told his friends that the only reason Quirrell was in the club at all was because his father worked for the Ministry. Lily, overhearing this, had just assumed it was true.

It was because of all these things that she'd never given Quirrell much thought, writing him off as just another Muggle-hating little snake - and a slightly ludicrous one, at that. But now it seemed that she'd been wrong. Upon closer inspection, not only was he rather cute, but he was interesting, as well. Even a little mysterious. And his stutter was obviously improving as he got older. She recalled the first time she'd heard him try to answer a question in class; he'd managed to get out the word 'the' with no problem, but he'd stumbled over his second word so badly that the professor had actually interrupted him to get him to stop. Now he appeared to be able to go several sentences without any trouble, and his hesitations were minor.

"What did the Hat realize about you?" she prompted once it became clear that he wasn't going to just offer this bit on his own.

Their eyes met again and one corner of his mouth curled upward. It was a small motion but he had a fine mouth, full-lipped and bee-stung.

"Your t-timer is done," he said, nodding toward it.

"Oh!"

Lily sat back upright and hurried to add her three drops of salamander blood. She could feel her cheeks flushing yet again and struggled against it. She felt like an utter dolt for being so air-headed, especially in front of non-threatening Quirrell, of all people.

She was just getting ready to face him again and ask about the Hat when a sharp voice startled her.

"By now you should be at least halfway through your Draught of Second Sight. Preferably even further than that."

Alarmed, Lily glanced up at the blackboard and groaned. She was only on step 3 out of 8. Glancing at Quirrell's cauldron (the contents of which glowing an alarming shade of orange), she guessed that he had to be on either step 5 or 6. What had she been doing this whole time?

"Your solution should be orange in color," Professor Heller continued, clapping his grizzled hands together again for emphasis, "the more vivid, the better."

This helped her to relax a little. Her potion was definitely orange. Though it had not yet attained the near-nuclear hue that Quirrell's had, she felt sure it would...if she could manage to catch up.

Heller began stalking his way up and down the rows to check on the work being done. He was so old and stooped that his hunter green robes trailed several inches behind him on the floor as he walked and his weathered old face bore more resemblance to a baked apple than a human being. His great age, however, did nothing to impede his temper (which was legendary), or to relax his teaching style (which was militant and old-school).

He paused to inspect Potter's and Black's cauldrons, and gave them a grunt and a nod.

"Good work, Black," he said, his tone curt and grudging. "Good body on that potion. Fast work."

Lily watched Sirius shoot a grin across the room at Remus Lupin, who was so caught up in his own potion that he didn't notice.

Eyeing her hourglass anxiously, Lily noticed Heller lean over James Potter's cauldron so closely that she thought he might blister his nose off. She could see James's jaw set as he prepared himself for criticism from the old man. The muscles there tightened even further once Heller straightened.

"Very good, Potter. Excellent specimen." Heller paused to study the two boys, both affecting a casualness that Lily suspected they didn't actually feel. "Congratulations, gentleman," he said at last. "You've just earned yourselves a total of 5 points for Gryffindor."

Unable to control himself, Potter turned to flash Lupin a thumb up. Before she could look away, he caught Lily's eye and a grin welled up on his face. With a sigh, Lily returned to her work. Of course he'd think she was looking at him when in fact she'd only been marking Heller's progress through the classroom.

Doing the mental arithmetic, Lily realized that she and Quirrell would be inspected last. With a rush of relief, she began to hurry, trying to catch up to the others so that there would be no reason for the old man to take points from Gryffindor.

Professor Heller continued to walk up and down the aisles, occasionally stopping to inspect someone's work, or to Vanish a particularly bad sample, he came to a stop again in front of Severus Snape and Rodolphus Lestrange.

It was yet another odd seating arrangement, Lily thought as she adjusted the heat under her cauldron, because usually Evan Rosier claimed the seat next to Snape and would not relinquish it. But as horrible as Rosier was, she doubted that even he would be foolish enough to fight Rodolphus Lestrange over something as trivial as a seating arrangement.

"Good job, Lestrange," the old man said, "and you, too, Snape. Excellent coloring. 5 points to Slytherin."

Rodolphus Lestrange smiled, looking pleased with himself. A slow, methodical thinker, he didn't do well in classes which required quick or critical thinking. His star really shone in Potions, where his pondering nature was a boon, so brewing on in Divination class was an added bonus for him, she was sure.

Lily reverse-stirred her draught a half dozen times, watching Professor Heller's progress warily.

"Once more," Quirrell murmured.

Lily blinked and turned to face him.

"What?"

"Stir it once more. You're short one."

Resisting the urge to clap a hand to her forehead, Lily added another counterclockwise stir. For a fraction of a second, her potion flared an ugly, jaundiced yellow, inciting a panic in her midsection. It stayed like that for three horrible seconds, and then deepened back to orange.

Anxious about the professor's closing distance, she glanced back up to note his path just in time to see him clench a gnarled fist and clout Evan Rosier in the back of the head.

"What the hell is this supposed to be, Rosier?" Heller snarled, slamming a hand down on the table next to the black-haired boy's cauldron.

Rosier snapped around to look at the old man, his peculiar violet eyes flat with murder.

"Second Sight Potion, sir," he replied, rubbing the sore spot on his head. "When it's brewed, you leave it in the cauldron and look into it for visions of the future." His voice dripped like icicles as he spoke.

"And is it supposed to be pink as a cat's arsehole?" Heller demanded, raspy voice breaking as its volume rose.

"No."

Heller lifted his hand again, as if to smack Rosier in the mouth. Lily watched in horrified fascination, just barely remembering to stir her own potion clockwise twice. Though this sort of exchange had happened between Rosier and Professor Heller a few times over the years, Lily could never seem to get used to it. It was impossible to look away once it happened, not unlike being a witness to a car crash.

"No, what?" The professor said, glaring at the boy with a stare equally as murderous.

"No, 'sir'," Rosier replied so nastily that Lily half-expected to see venom spray as he spoke.

Heller whipped out his wand.

"Evanesco," he snapped, Vanishing the boy's solution. "A zero for you today, Rosier - and a week's detention for that nasty temper of yours," the old man seemed to debate here, then added, "and 10 points from Slytherin."

Satisfied with the fury on Evan Rosier's face, Professor Heller moved on.

Quirrell shook his head and examined his potion from a horizontal angle.

"The only t-time Rosier ever does anything right is when Snape sits next to him and whispers the answers in his ear. I realize he's not stupid, but he's so lazy."

"I'd be a hypocrite if I laughed at that," Lily said, squinting to double-check step six. "I'd be the one with a zero for the day if you hadn't helped me."

This time it was Quirrell who reddened, which lifted her spirits some. She was just about done with blushing today.

"It's not like you n-n-n-needed help," he said. "You're just preoccupied today."

Lily did not argue with this. Both halves of his statement were true: she was usually an excellent student, and she most certainly was preoccupied by something today.

"Look at the color on this, Lupin. It looks like a weak cup of tea," Heller was saying two tables ahead of them. "It won't work very well."

"I'm sorry, sir," Lupin said, sounding anxious to avoid the same fate Rosier had met.

"No, don't give me sorry," Heller warned him. "Give me answers. Can you tell where you went wrong?"

Lupin peered up at the blackboard, glanced at his honey-colored potion for confirmation, then up at the professor.

"I didn't stir it enough times, sir."

"Good. That's right," Heller agreed, crinkled mouth splitting into a smile which revealed the occasional missing tooth. "How do you know that, lad?"

This time, Lupin didn't hesitate.

"I know because the orange color didn't start to fade until after I finished step five."

"Excellent. Now - is there any way to fix this?"

"I don't think so, sir."

Heller straightened and amiably clapped Lupin on the back with enough enthusiasm to make the boy's shaggy brown hair flop into his face, then gave him a nod.

"That's correct. Normally, you'd have to start over. One point to Gryffindor for thinking that through the right way."

The old man paused to Vanish the foul looking potion Peter Pettigrew had brewed, which had not only turned the ugly reddish-purple of a blood clot, but was also a vapor rather than a liquid. He then turned to face the class.

"The reason I gave Lupin that point is because he effectively used critical thinking," he told them.

Lily breathed a sigh of relief. The old man liked to ramble, and this would end up buying her enough time to finish before Heller reached their table. Next to her, Quirrell was already done and appeared to be listening to Heller with unfeigned interest.

"Now, I know most of you lot couldn't think your way out of a dark room without stubbing your toes, but critical thinking is a skill you must learn.

"When I asked Lupin what was wrong with his draught, he didn't just say 'I don't know'. He thought back, reasoned out the problem, then made an educated guess as to whether or not the damage could be undone. That is a skill which will get Lupin places in life."

Heller surprised the class by turning around and jabbing a twisted finger at Rodolphus.

"It's also a skill you'd better learn, Lestrange, unless you want to do grunt work all your life. It's one thing to be patient and cautious, but if you make a mistake, you need to be able to fix it...or know when not to bother."

Lestrange lowered his head a moment, as if embarrassed. When he raised it again, dull streaks of crimson were tattooed across his cheeks, and Lily felt a little sorry for him. Though he was by no means nice to her, he wasn't exactly mean, either. He just ignored her. Amongst his friends, however, he was very likeable. He did not usually bully any of the other students; he worked hard, and was patient. She'd heard that he was difficult to anger, but had a vicious streak in him when roused. Personally, she'd never seen such a display and doubted the rumor's veracity.

Sitting back in her seat, Lily lowered the heat under her cauldron. Heller's blathering had done the trick. She was finished. Quirrell looked over at her, noting that she'd shifted in her seat.

"That was fast," he said admiringly. "And it looks good."

"Thank you. Lets hope Professor Heller thinks so, too."

With that tiny, almost impish smile Quirrell spoke.

"I d-d-don't see how he couldn't think so, Evans," he said, his smile switching to a look of pain as he struggled with his stutter. "You d-did an excellent job," he added. "And so quickly, too."

"Thanks," she said again, feeling apprehensive as old man Heller walked up to their table. "But call me Lily, all right?"

"I wuh-wuh-will," Quirrell said. "Thank you."

Without speaking, Heller approached them and leaned down to study Quirrell's potion, looking at it from several angles as if to enjoy its bouquet. His robes fluttered with the movement and an unpleasant, dusky-sweet scent of rotten leaves drifted into Lily's nostrils. Appalled, she drew back, but forced herself still as Heller rounded upon her.

He looked into her eyes for a second, a nasty smile appearing on the slash that was his mouth. She got the feeling that he could sense her distaste of him, but willed herself to stay relaxed. His blue eyes with their yellowing sclera drifted away from her and regarded her cauldron.

"Actually, I do think this Draught is good, Evans," he said, surprising her. She hadn't realized he could hear her talking to Quirrell from so far away. "I didn't think you were going to finish in time, but you did fine. Flask it and put it on my desk. You too, Quirrell." Heller raised his voice and turned toward the class again. "Those of you who didn't have your potion Vanished, put some in a flask and leave it on my desk. If I Vanished yours, you owe me six inches of parchment tomorrow on what went wrong...except you, Rosier. I want a foot from you."

"I'll give you a foot, all right, you old bastard," Rosier muttered, glowering at Heller's back as the Divination instructor made his way back to the front of the class.

Next to Rosier, Wilkes laughed as he bottled his own orange juice-colored potion. Big, blond, and almost hectic in his unending good cheer, Wilkes looked a little like an orangutan playing with a chemistry set as he sealed his flask.

"Leave it alone, Evan," she heard Snape say from further ahead. "It's not worth more trouble."

"But, Severus..."

"Leave it," Snape repeated. "We don't need to lose any more points."

Grudgingly, Rosier closed his half-opened mouth and stared hatefully down into his empty cauldron. Lily watched a moment longer, curious. No one knew why Rosier so often did as Snape asked, but most people were glad he did. It wasn't exactly that Snape had control over Rosier, because he didn't. It just seemed that Rosier was more willing to oblige Snape's requests than he was anyone else's.

Heller appeared not to hear this exchange (or possibly not to care). As was his wont at the end of a class, he was back at his desk and recapping the House points.

"Five points to Slytherin for three top quality samples - that's you, Snape. Quirrell and Lestrange, also. Then five points to Gryffindor for three top quality samples from Potter, Black and Evans. Lupin, you already have your point for your answers to my questions. Rosier, you loused it up for everyone in our House by losing more points for Slytherin than were earned." Heller glanced around that the faces in front of him with his sunken eyes. "All right. You're dismissed."

In a hurry so that she wouldn't be late for her next class, Lily gathered her things and started to leave. She made it a few steps before a thought struck her and she suddenly turned around. Walking the short way back to where Quirrell was still collecting his items, she noted that most of the class was also still packing their things.

Sensing her presence, Quirrell looked up at her, surprise stamped across his features as he shoved a book into his bag.

"D-did you forget something?" he asked, looking around the table and chairs for something she might have left behind.

"No, you just never had the chance to answer my question."

Puzzled, Quirrell shook his head, fingers lacing the clasps on his shoulder bag.

"What question?"

Lily smiled.

"What did the Sorting Hat realize about you? To put you in Slytherin instead of Ravenclaw, I mean?"

Quirrell froze and stared at her for a moment, an unreadable look upon his face. He then relaxed and laughed, swinging his bag over his shoulder. With a smile, he motioned her to join him as he walked.

Lily hesitated, looking around the classroom. Having Quirrell seat himself next to her was one thing, but deciding to walk down the hallways with him was quite another. Her concern was not for herself, she reasoned, but for Quirrell. Granted, allowing him to escort her to her next class might earn her some teasing from her classmates and start a few rumors, but she supposed it was nothing she couldn't handle. His situation was different, though. He would have to endure the ridicule of his Housemates (not only was she a Gryffindor girl, but she was also a Muggle-born), and he would probably have to put up with endless teasing from James Potter, too. Potter, who seemed to think she was his personal property.

For a second, Quirrell glanced back at her over his shoulder. He appeared puzzled again, as if unable to understand why she wasn't following him, but then it seemed to hit him and all the good humor melted from his face. As his expression first hardened, and then tumbled into dejection, he reminded her of a little boy looking at his ice cream melting on the pavement. It was that crestfallen look more than anything else that convinced her to follow him.

Forcing herself not to look around and see who was watching, Lily took a breath, stepped up beside him, and gave a nod to signal that she was ready to leave. As if by magic, his smile returned and he held the door open for her as they exited.

"So...tell me, Quirrell!" she said once they were out the door, reaching out and giving his forearm an impatient shake. "What did the Hat say to you?"

"Please call me Quirinus, and I'm afraid I have to apologize. It's not really all that interesting, what the Hat told me," he said, "but - oof!"

Quirrell's breath ran out in a sudden, jagged rush and he was jostled forward several feet before tripping to the ground. Stunned, Lily looked around and saw Avery's grinning face several inches above hers.

"Look at that, Evan! Squirrelly's got himself a girlfriend!" Avery shouted back down the hall. Given his close proximity, it was obvious he was the one who had shoved Quirrell down.

With the gentle, benevolent smile of an angel in a painting, Evan Rosier came up to examine the situation with Wilkes not far behind. Rosier's eyes roamed over Lily dispassionately, as if he was sizing up a cut of meat for dinner.

"Surely even you can't be desperate enough to go after a Mudblood, Quirrell," he said lazily, sauntering over to where Quirrell was now standing and trying to catch his breath. Even though Rosier was not a big boy, he almost seemed to tower over Quirrell, and Lily felt sorry for her new acquaintance.

"Oh, please, Rosier," she said, resolved to act and marching over to take Quirrell's wrist. "At least it's a girl he's got."

Though her stab at his sexuality was nothing more than a vague, half-conceived suspicion coupled with the desperate desire to shock him into retreating, she'd had no idea that the barb would strike Rosier so violently.

There were no adequate words to describe the look that came over Evan Rosier's face at that moment. Later on Lily would realize that he had scared her quite a lot, as the very absence of a definable expression made him seem as unsettling as a worn gravestone.

Easily one of the best looking boys in school, Lily was of the opinion that (based on looks alone) Rosier was even more attractive than Sirius Black. This meant that, like Sirius, Rosier had his pick from almost any girl in school. Supposedly he had bedded several girls from differing Houses, but as far as Lily knew, she had yet to meet one of these alleged conquests.

All the color drained away from Rosier's face, leaving his violet eyes like deep, ugly bruises in the sockets. His brows came together and his heart-shaped mouth curled down at the corners, yet even through this brutality he remained beautiful in some distant, ethereal way.

She watched him shift his stack of virgin schoolbooks all into one arm while he thrust his free hand into his robes. She felt Quirinus jerk, trying to use his off-hand to get his own wand out, but then she realized that it was not a wand Rosier was drawing, it was a knife. A second later, eight inches of intricately engraved metal flashed in the dim light of the dungeon halls.

Shooting Quirinus a look of pure contempt, Rosier lifted his chin in a haughty manner that belied the purported lack of money in his family's vaults.

"Don't worry, Quirrell," he said, approaching Lily with his blade brandished. "You can put your wand away. I don't waste my magic on nasty little bitches like this. Mudbloods are only good for one thing - cutting."

Suddenly, there were more steps behind her, and she found herself almost ready to weep in relief, hoping that it was James Potter and his friends. That would at least even their numbers out some.

She glanced around, ready to smile, but the expression froze on her lips. It wasn't James Potter at all. It was Severus Snape and Rodolphus Lestrange...and Bellatrix Black wasn't far behind the two of them. Wonderful.

Her fingers tightened over Quirrell's wrist a little as she tried to decide whether they should stand their ground or just leave. Granted, Quirrell was a prefect, but his ability to dock points wasn't likely to matter much in a situation like this. In fact, trying to dock points might make things worse.

"Look what Quirrell's got for himself, Severus," Rosier was saying, gesturing with his knife. "He's got himself a little whore of a Mudblood to fuck."

Amazingly, Snape did not stop. Given his scholastic record, Lily guessed that he was probably not willing to be late for class over an amusement so petty.

Snape's black eyes flickered over her as he passed, wretched and unreadable, but she got the feeling they were looking at one another with purpose, that some kind of communication was passing between them. A second later, his gaze was gone as he continued to walk.

"Who cares?" Snape called back. "It's just Quirrell. If she's fucking him, it's only a pity fuck."

At this, Quirrell flushed and looked in the opposite direction. He and Snape did not clash often, but it was always unpleasant when they did. Lily, however, realized what Snape was doing. The way he did it might have been mean, but he was trying to draw Rosier and the others away from the two of them by showing no interest in playing their game.

With a sigh of relief, Lily vowed to herself that she would owe Snape a debt at some later point...if his ploy worked, that was. Though she had no idea what his reasons were for wanting Rosier to leave them alone, she was bright enough to realize that it was not out of concern for her or for Quirrell. Most likely it was because Snape didn't want his best friend in trouble or expelled. But it didn't matter. If this worked, she would owe him.

Rosier lowered his knife and stared after Snape, irritation clear in every feature.

"What?" he called in disbelief. "Come on, Severus! She deserves a cut...and so does he for being blood traitor enough to want to bang her!"

With a sigh of sincere exasperation, Snape slowed a little and looked back over his shoulder.

"I told you I don't care, Evan. What does it matter to me if he wants to dirty his dick on her?"

"Oh, as if you could even get laid, Snivellus!" James Potter's voice suddenly rang down the corridor. "Out of pity, or otherwise!"

This accomplished what Rosier had failed to do. This time, Snape came to a full stop and spun around, his ebony wand at the ready.

"What was that, Potter? I don't quite think I heard you." Snape's voice was soft, but carrying.

Rosier's eyes widened in alarm at this, and he seemed to forget all about stabbing her and Quirrell. He pocketed his knife and hurried off toward Snape without another glance at the two of them.

"No, no, no," he was saying, body blocking Snape's spell path toward James Potter. "It's time for your Arithmancy - let's go." He grabbed Snape's arm as he said this and began to tug.

Curious, Lily watched. There was no way that Rosier was afraid of a confrontation with James Potter and Sirius Black. Even though Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew were joining them, it didn't matter. Everyone knew that Evan Rosier was crazy - he didn't fear anything, especially not something as mundane as dueling in the hallways.

"Come on," Rosier said again, pulling gently at Snape. "Don't mind them."

Snape allowed himself to be led away, hesitating once to glare back at James with undisguised loathing. Wilkes and Avery trailed immediately behind Rosier and Snape, not even bothering to look around. Only Rodolphus Lestrange and Bellatrix Black remained.

If the couple had argued at any point during the day, all appeared to be forgiven now, Lily thought. Tall and graceful, Bellatrix paused to press herself against Lestrange's side.

"Why are you staying, Rodolphus?" Lily heard Bellatrix murmur up at him. "We have to get to class."

"I'm staying because I don't trust Potter not to curse Severus while his back is turned."

A scowl cramping her otherwise lovely face, Black broke away from Lestrange and crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

"So?" she demanded. "That's Snape's worry, not yours."

Lestrange shook his head.

"No. I owe him."

Lily started. How odd that Lestrange should vocalize what she'd been thinking only minutes before.

Still looking down at his girlfriend, Lestrange suddenly broke into a smile and scratched at the straggly goatee invading his chin.

"You go on ahead, Bella," he told her. "I'll be along in a minute."

Bellatrix glared up at him, her dark eyes angry. Apparently she was not pleased that he was disobeying her, but she also seemed to think a debate wasn't worth the trouble because she didn't pursue the matter, either.

After gracing Lily and the others with a look fit to scald lava, Black spared one last glance at Lestrange. It was a complicated expression, both aggravated and affectionate. She then departed in the same direction the other Slytherins had gone.

Though Rodolphus Lestrange had done an about-face toward James, Sirius, Remus and Peter during Bellatrix's departure, Lily had not seen him do it. For a boy as big as he was, Lestrange was unexpectedly quick and sure-footed.

"Move," James said approaching the bigger boy, his wand aimed squarely at Lestrange's chest. "My argument isn't with you."

"No," Lestrange said. Even at 15, he had a big, booming voice. This single word, uttered with such finality, echoed down the hall and sounded very impressive. James Potter didn't appear to care.

"I'm giving you a three-count, then I'm going to blast you," James said, pushing his glasses up.

Expression neutral, Lestrange swung his gigantic head around to look at Quirrell, his fellow Slytherin.

"Is Severus gone?" he asked.

For a second, something crafty and unpleasant passed over Quirrell's features, his big blue eyes narrowing to slits. Startled by the abrupt change, Lily released his wrist. The expression was gone less than a second later, leaving her to question whether it had ever been there at all.

Glancing in the direction Snape and Rosier had gone with the others, Quirrell nodded, then realized that Lestrange wasn't looking at him anymore.

"Yes," he said. "All of them are gone."

"All right," Lestrange replied.

Without saying anything further, he turned and walked away, his long, black ponytail whipping out behind him as he went. He moved at a leisurely pace, as if unconcerned by the four boys pointing their wands at his back.

The boys all waited for him to get out of casting distance, then stowed their wands.

"Thanks," Lily said, turning to face James, who was the closest to her.

James grinned and pushed his glasses up again, hazel eyes twinkling.

"No trouble," he said. "But what were you doing with Quirrell, anyway?"

Lily felt a frown knit itself onto her face at that. Couldn't he act like a human being even for five minutes?

"We were talking. And as far as I know, James Potter, that's still permitted."

It was James's turn to scowl.

"Yeah?" he countered. "And was he being a 'juh-juh-gentleman' to you?"

For a second, Lily was literally breathless with anger. She felt her hands fold up into fists, and realized she was taking a step toward Potter without even thinking.

"Unlike some people - yes!" she spat. "He was being very kind...and here's something else you might want to try - he was being nice, too!" She turned on her heel to collect Quirinus and be on her way, but he was no longer standing near the wall where she'd left him.

Several seconds passed as Lily stared at the spot he'd occupied, blinking as if to clear her vision and make him reappear. Failing at that, she looked down the corridor in the same direction all the others had gone and saw him retreating, almost running. His book bag bounced against his slender hip as he hurried, the strap slipping down his shoulder.

For a moment she felt guilty and contemplated going after him. She shouldn't have ignored him, she knew, even if it was just for a few seconds to thank James and Sirius. Quirrell had done her a great many services in a short span of time and she should have been more thankful for it. It was not every day that someone helped her out in class, then tried to save her from being attacked with a knife.

She heard Potter and the others leave in the opposite direction, but didn't bother to turn. Instead she contented herself with watching Quirrell's figure shrink as he walked.

Though she was still very curious as to what the Sorting Hat had seen in him, she knew she could ask him later. And besides, after seeing that shifty, conniving look fleet across his face, she supposed she could guess what the Hat had seen in his heart after all.