Singled Out

Chapter IV

Lily’s eyes returned to the Head Table, drawn to the conspicuously absent seat that formerly was Professor Curtis’. She wondered how he died; had it been painful?

"Knut for your thoughts," Ellie’s voice broke through her dark reverie.

Blinking, she forced herself back to the present, just in time to dip her spoon in pumpkin juice and drop it on her lap. "Yeuch," she muttered. "Say a word and I’ll—I’ll attack you with my mashed potatoes," she finished.

"Right. So whither wander your mind?"

"Whither?"

"What’s wrong with whither?"

Danielle snorted in a very unladylike manner, then coughed, creating a small shower of vegetables. "Forget it."

"What?"

"I was going to crack a joke about withering."

"Danielle, that’s not funny."

"Yeah, well, you set yourself up for it. C’mon, admit it."

"I was worrying about You-Know-Who. What if he tries to get us?" Lily shuddered. "I have nightmares."

"I know. I’ve heard you. But why? We’re a school. It’s not like terrorists make it a hobby to attack schools. They go for governments and economic centers. Besides, aren’t there protections for Hogwarts? It’d be damn hard to get us without setting off something."

"I guess so," Lily bit her lip.

"OK, time for a subject change, before gloomy, morbid, brooding Lily comes for a visit."

"I’m not gloomy or morbid," Lily exclaimed.

"Of course not, you’re a paragon of cheerfulness," James slid into the seat on Lily’s right. "You ooze the slime of happiness like a plant oozing Bubotuber Pus," he said grandly.

"James!"

"What?" He grinned innocently.

"That reminds me, I still have to get you back for that idiotic prank you tried yesterday; how stupid do you think I am?" She poked James in the side.

"Me?" James widened his eyes, the picture of insulted virtue.

"Yeah, you," Lily grinned as she reached for the pumpkin juice. Tipping her head back, she drained the contents of the glass.

"That tasted really good; my throat has been sore for a few days now. I think I’m coming down with something," she made a face. "But, you know," she added, "that pumpkin juice tasted different somehow." She turned to Danielle. "Didn’t you think so?" She realized too late that James had been watching the pumpkin juice intently; a little too intently. Before she could say a word, she had a feeling her vocal cords had been stopped, then, just as rapidly, and without any warning, they came back on full blast, so that even her thoughts seemed to come out loudly. There were so many things she could have said, if her vocal cords hadn’t seemed to have closed up. With equal suddenness, she felt as if a large weight had left her, but it wasn’t a good thing. Her head throbbed, and as the feeling worsened, until she could barely think from the pain; she just wanted to die. Slowly, it receded, and she wondered if perhaps it wasn’t James, and if Voldemort was poisoning the entire school. But, she seemed fine. Except for one thing. Everything was similar, but something was vaguely… wrong. Looking at the faces surrounding her, they seemed slightly changed, as if all the flaws she had been covering up in her mind were highly visible, and she was bursting to tell everyone just what she thought of them.

She didn’t realize what she was doing as she reached across the space between her and James and kissed him hard on the mouth. He pulled back for an instant, but quickly recovered from the shock. She couldn’t control what she doing as she pressed her body against his tighter and tighter, feeling any space was too much. Even though her eyes weren’t open, she felt like she could see the Great Hall through them, painted in a riot of bright colors. After what seemed like forever, but was still too short, James pulled away gently. Danielle stared at her, openmouthed, then blushed and busied herself with the food as their eyes met. Her other senses returned to her and she could hear James laughing next to her like a drunken house elf. She spun around and slapped him as hard as she could. Suddenly, that was the best feeling in the world.

She turned to Ellie. "What happened?" she asked. "Ellie, tell me. Has something horrible happened to me Am I Pristina Forrest?" Lily asked desperately, a note of pleading in her voice.

"Erm, I think so. In a matter of speaking," Ellie said, looking uncomfortable after the show of uncharacteristic violence and even more unnerved by the snogging that had preceded it.

"James Potter, take this spell off me this instant!"

James looked even more uncomfortable than Ellie had. But then, he had far more to be dismayed about. "It doesn’t quite work that way."

"Well, how does it fucking work then?" she shrieked angrily. The words sounded alien. I don’t say words like that, she thought dizzily.

"You’ll find out soon enough. You really don’t want me to tell you right now. Really. But, I’ll tell you after it wears off," he promised.

"It’s just a normal potion that’ll wear off?" Lily felt extremely relieved. This was familiar ground. This was something she could deal with.

"Er—not quite." James looked panicked. As Lily gave him a confused look, he mustered the courage to explain. "We tried an experiment, you see." At her expression, he felt elaboration was called for. "We didn’t think you’d drink the entire thing. There wasn’t that much potion in it, but its more than you should drink."

Now, he was sweating. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Professor McGonagall bearing down on them, and she didn’t look happy. The Slytherins were laughing openly, the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were politely trying to make it look like a cough, and even the Gryffindors were hard-pressed to not snicker.

"So, is it or is it not a simple, easily reversed potion?" Lily queried in a dangerously icy voice. The low volume belied her anger.

"I think something went wrong," James looked downright miserable.

His thoughts careened wildly, a dizzying twirl on a broomstick to escape a Bludger. How do I tell her that she’s doing what I want, that the potion didn’t just loosen her inhibitions? After all, she’s not interested in me, is she? Is she? And if she is, what then? If she isn’t, what went wrong?

"What?" Lily’s voice was still quiet.

"Um, it may have been affected by the people who made the potion by accident."

"And what effect does this have?" Her tone was even, with no inflection, but it still made James think of boiling oil, an iron maiden, and thumbscrews. Lots of thumbscrews there. If they could ever be extracted, they’d fetch a handsome price on Knockturn Alley.

"Obviously, we can’t tell that much right now, but, um, the only thing we know is that you reacted very strongly. It made you very," he considered stopping now, while he was ahead of where he’d be if he continued, but he ignored his common sense and plowed on bravely. "passionate," he tried out the word, and managed a straight face, to his surprise.

"Time to go to class, I think," Danielle said brightly, resolutely keeping her eyes on her plate.

"Fine," Lily growled. "But, if anything else happens, I’ll hunt you down and kick your balls up your nose."

"OK. That’s great," James replied nervously. "I think I’ll go to class too." He rushed away.

* * * * *

"I can’t go to that class right now."

"You have to. Madam Pomfrey said she couldn’t find anything. Maybe it’s all drained out."

"I’ll skip," Lily said desperately, her voice shrill.

"Lily, you wouldn’t skip if your life depended on it," Danielle replied patiently.

"You saw what happened last class."

"Yes, I did. And I know that what you said was the truth. Maybe this potion is some sort of Veritaserum."

"No, it isn’t." Lily paced the hallway irritably. "First, Veritaserum’s practically illegal. They wouldn’t be that stupid." She paused. "Well, maybe they would. But, Veritaserum wouldn’t make me do that."

"What? Telling Professor Jones the truth? Actually, it would."

"No." Lily brought her foot down on the ground. "You know what I mean."

"Oh, that," Danielle said.

"Yes!"

"Well, then maybe it loosens your inhibitions or something."

"My inhibitions?" Lily screeched. "His, more likely."

"Or that," Ellie agreed, more to pacify Lily than because she really agreed.

"Yeah. But then, why did I say all those things to Professor Jones?"

"Maybe it’s a combination of two potions."

"That must be it," Lily said, sounding relieved.

"But you know, all that stuff you said in class was really funny."

"But I have detention, and I lost twenty points for Gryffindor."

"I thought it was worth it to see that look on Professor Jones’ face."

"What did I say, exactly?"

"You don’t remember," said Ellie, astonished. "If it was me, I would treasure that memory for the rest of my life. And then some."

"I remember the gist, but not the exact words. It was like there was a fog over me. As for treasuring that memory, no thanks. You’re not the one who’s stuck going to detention with him."

"True. Well, it was hilarious. He was leering at you, or at least at your chest, and you said, ‘Professor Jones, I’d appreciate it if you’d look at my face while I’m talking to you.’ And he was trying to be funny, I guess, so he was, like, ‘Well, its always a pleasure to look at such a lovely face, Miss Evans.’ You know how he talks."

Lily nodded.

"So, you were, like, ‘listen you perverted old geezer, stop looking at me like that.’ And then, he was, like, ‘excuse me, Miss Evans?’ So you said, ‘you miserable old perv, you’re practically undressing me with your eyes. You’re disgusting!’"

Lily buried her face in her hands, and Danielle gave her a concerned look, not sure if Lily was laughing or crying. "Go on," came her muffled voice.

"Okay," Danielle replied, but she continued in a more subdued voice. "So, he assigned you detention and took points, but all the girls know you’re right. That’s what he always does. Anything female is fair game, and if she’s wearing tight robes, all the better. You should see him drooling when a girl leans over. And then, there was that time at the Quidditch game when he said in that loud, obnoxious voice, ‘That girl over there’s a dish. Did you see how hot she was? And that figure. Hey you, pretty girl!’

"Did he really?" Lily looked a little happier.

"Yeah."

Lily chewed her lower lip, looking uncertain. "But, what if I say something like that in Herbology. Professor Jones is one thing, but Professor Tanspere will kill me."

"You’ll be fine," Ellie assured her.

"But what if-" Lily trailed off.

"Trust me. As long as you keep your mouth shut, everything will be fine."

"I guess it won’t hurt too much," Lily said dubiously. "After all, if she kills me, it’ll probably be quick, right?"

"Think positive."

"Right." She grimaced. "Positive. Well, we haven’t got anything to gain by standing here looking as clueless as a pair of flobberworms."

"Hey, hey. Speak for yourself. I’m no flobberworm. I’m a kneazle, or something cool like that."

"You just tell yourself that."

"Oh, let’s go."

"I wasn’t the one babbling about being a flobberworm."

"Hey, better a flobberworm than a flesh-eating slug."

"You may have a point there," Danielle said, with mock-seriousness.

"Naturally."

"Oh, Evans, you’re far too slow to be a flobberworm. As for flesh-eating slugs, they’re ahead of you on looks any day. You’d be a puffskein. Tongue exercise seems to be your main skill. But enjoy your stay, Evans. After all, you’re only here for as long as the moronic Muggle-lover is Headmaster. In a little while, your tonsil tennis with purebloods will have to end." The voice came from behind them, nasally cruel, instantly recognizable. Severus Snape, Slytherin prefect and all-around slime ball.

Lily flushed red. "Sod off, Snape," she said without turning around.

"Now, now. Little Mudbloods should be nice, or they might have to learn a lesson."

Danielle gasped, but Lily grabbed her arm.

"Your friend didn’t like that word, did she, Evans? You’re a half-blood aren’t you, Gryffindor scum? Figures; that house takes the rejects that no sane wizard would allow into a wizarding school. But, halfbloods, that’s the only thing more disgusting than having Mudbloods prancing around the halls as if they own the place. How any wizard could lower himself to that, I don’t know. But, you know, they say shagging wizards is better than shagging Muggles. I suppose you could testify, Evans," he said, lazily smirking at her.

"Listen, you bastard. If you want to get out of this hallway in one piece, I’d advise shutting up and walking very fast."

"Threatening a Prefect, Evans? You know," and here he leaned forward, bending until his face was level with Lily’s, "I could take points for that. But, because I’m feeling nice, I won’t. However, I ask for only one thing in return."

Danielle’s mind whirled as she looked at Snape’s group of Slytherins. She and Lily were outnumbered by quite a bit. He had a gang with him, and none of them looked like they were interesting in sitting down and working out a compromise. As for seeing things from someone else’s point of view…forget it, her mind instructed her.

"What, Snape?" Lily’s voice was very cold.

" First, you should be more polite. Mudbloods like you don’t deserve to be here, but if you are, at least learn respect. Address me as…Master," Snape hissed, gloating evident on his sallow face.

"Just tell me what you want, you unbearable git, or I’m leaving, and you can go fuck yourself while having erotic fantasies about Voldemort." Lily began to walk away, her anger lengthening her strides, but Snape’s hand reached out and clamped her arm. Her face twisted for a moment, but Ellie couldn’t tell if it was in rage or pain.

"Do not presume to speak of things you do not understand, Evans. Voldemort is more powerful than your puny mind can ever comprehend. Filth like you will be exterminated," Snape’s whisper managed to convey more loathing than any other volume. "Go now, Evans. Go, and ponder my words, for in them is the destruction of your kind." Abruptly, he released his grip. She lashed out, reaching for his neck. With a whispered charm on his part, she ran into an invisible barrier.

"You don’t scare me, you creep, not with your stupid fake-arse archaic speech," Lily whispered through gritted teeth. "And if you threaten me again, you will rue it."

Snape sneered. "Will you send your boyfriend after me? Bribe him with your questionable," here, his eyes traveled suggestively over her body, "favors, perhaps? Or should I say, lack thereof. What do you do? Threaten him with ‘If you don’t do what I want, I’ll take off my shirt.’" He raised the pitch of his voice to a fair imitation of Lily’s clear treble.

"If I did send my boyfriend after you, you would be sorry." Lily’s voice was quiet at the beginning of the sentence, but as she continued, it rose. "But, if you continue to piss me off, I’ll kill you right now, with my barehands," she finished, losing control.

"Your threats are horrific and they strike fear into my heart," Snape said extravagantly. "But, there’s a slight problem. Which boyfriend? The one you walk through the hallways with, or the one who assisted you in your little act for voyeurs this morning? Which brother? And do they know about each other?" The smug smirk was on his face again, and Ellie couldn’t stand it any longer. She knew better than to resort to an attack of any sort, so she grabbed Lily by the arm and dragged her away.

"What a class-A, grand-prize-winning arsehole," Danielle said through clenched teeth as the laughter died away from behind them.

"Wait. I want to go to Pomfrey, then Dumbledore."

Ellie stopped. "Why? Did he hurt you?"

"I haven’t had a change to look yet, but my arm is burning where he grabbed it."

"Well, let’s see. Lily pulled back the sleeve of her robe so that they could see the burn, on her left forearm. "That’s disgusting," Lily breathed. On her arm was a handprint, livid against her fair skin. As Lily lightly touched it with her finger, a look of revulsion on her face, she went limp, and Ellie struggled to support her as the taller girl fell. Finally, she had to let Lily slide to the floor as the weight became too much. With a flick of her wand, she pulled Lily up. "Levus. Ennervate."

Lily blinked. "What happened?"

"Don’t look at me," Ellie shrugged. "I’m as lost as you. Probably more."

Lily took a shaky step forward. "Dumbledore first."

"How about Pomfrey?"

"Don’t have time. We can go to Dumbledore, get a note for being late, and go to Herbology."

They got ready to go, then realized they had no idea where Dumbledore was. "Erm, then, Pomfrey first."

"Sounds like a good idea to me. Very logical."

* * * * *

"Slick move, old boy. I’ve never seen McGonagall looking so hacked off. She wants to know exactly which potion we used, too. Although she seemed to know. Sure she doesn’t have an Invisibility Cloak? Well, I can search her room very thoroughly quite soon. Detention every night for two weeks, and we lost 50 house points. You lucked out, since I covered. Only three days for you." Sirius carefully chewed on an apple.

"Oh, shut up."

"To say nothing of the fact that your idiocy," Sirius began.

"Idjitry," James corrected automatically.

"Whatever," Sirius waved his hand airily, forgetting his loose grip on the apple. It went flying through the open window, making the birds perched inquiringly on the sill of the open window fly off, chirping angrily.

"Sirius, shut up already. I’m not in a mood to be pissed off."

"Better than being pissed on. To finish what I was saying, you’re either awfully stupid or really cruel. What did you put in it to make her kiss you? Love potion?"

"I didn’t put anything in it."

"Nothing personal, but why would she want to kiss you if you didn’t make her? After all, she has a boyfriend. You know, your brother, Harold? Remember him? And if it wasn’t the potion, then would you want to go out with such a whore?"

"Shut the fuck up," James yelled, finally cracking. The birds, which had returned to the window, scattered again, looking as disapproving as they could. "Lily is not a whore. Not like the tarts you hook up with all the time."

"Of course. Someone who snogs her boyfriend’s brother isn’t a whore. Not at all."

James glared.

There was a pounding on the door. "I’ll go open it then," Sirius said, edging to the door.

"Yeah, you do that," James said morosely.

Sirius tugged the handle open. "Hey, Moony, come to join the party? Well, let me tell you it’s not a laugh a minute."

"Right." Remus’ gaze flickered from James, sitting on his bed, to Sirius, grinning in an irritated manner. "What do you say we go Marauding?"

"Marauding sounds good. Nothing like some good old-fashioned looting and pillaging to get a bloke’s mind off…other things." Sirius stopped. "Coming, Prongs?"

"No. You go. I want to wallow in self-pity."

"James, it’s not the end of the world. There are plenty of girls in the world."

"Yeah, but she isn’t plenty of girls."

"Well, it won’t do you any good to sit in a dark room like some sort of vampire," Sirius said, as diplomatically as he could. Although what he really wanted was a chance to punch James in the face. "You wouldn’t want to end up looking like Snape, would you? For one thing, think about how horrible it’d be to have two Snape-faced tossers swooping around."

"What does it matter?"

Sirius felt the urge to hit James grow stronger until it was almost overwhelming. One girl, and he went to pieces like this. It was stupid. "Listen, there are plenty of girls who’d Avada Kedavra to go out with James Potter. And you’re sitting in here, getting weepy, just because one won’t. What’s wrong with you, man? Don’t give me your whiny-ass shit about how she’ll never forgive you. She will, if you’ll let her. But you’d rather sit in here and sulk and be melodramatic. Do you really want her or not? Everything has come easy to you—Quidditch, school, friends. Now that something bad has happened, are you going to sit in the middle of the bloody road and snivel? If you are, just tell me. I’ll find one of those Muggle trucks and run you over." Sirius was aware of the fact that he was shouting, but he was thoroughly pissed. Getting bitched at by McGonagall always had that effect on him, and James wasn’t helping matters.

"Right," James said as he stood, his eyes blazing.

Remus looked from one to the other. He knew what their fights were like, and werewolf strength or not, getting in between them was always a bad idea.

"You come in here, Mr. I-can-have-any-girl-I-like-and-they’re-all-the-same-when-you-snog-‘em and you have the fucking guts to tell me that I’m being whiny-ass about her? You don’t even know what I’m feeling right now. You’ve never liked anyone. For you, girls are just a game," he said nastily. "It’s always, can I score on this date. I swear to God, you probably keep a bloody chart, and sit and whinge when you can’t get anywhere with a girl. You wouldn’t know love if it came up to you and offered a neck massage and someone to talk to. You’d probably ask if a shag was included in the deal."

"Right. I’m some sort of crazed sex-maniac. And you’re perfect James Potter who is never attracted to women. You’re the one who just knows that beauty is skin deep. Of course, how could I have forgotten that what you look for in a girl is an attractive pair of kidneys. It just goes without saying that I look at wizarding porn magazines, and I can’t see a girl standing up without wanting to get her lying flat. So stupid of me to forget that. And I sit and whine in private. But damned if I go around whining in public," Sirius snarled.

"I’m not the one who never does his homework, exploiting girls, and cheating off them. I do my own work, and I’m not the troublemaker. You’re just like your dad," James sneered.

In the dead silence that followed, Remus knew that James was regretting what he had said. If there was one thing Sirius hated, it was accusations. Especially of lying or cheating. It was to be expected, with why his father had been in Azkaban. And it wasn’t true; Sirius never actually cheated, despite the jokes he made.

As Remus looked at James’ expression, shocked by the words that had come out of his mouth, and Sirius, white-faced, his fists clenched, he wondered how the situation had deteriorated so quickly. And all of it over a girl. He wondered who it was. James hadn’t actually said that there was anyone, but, lately, he was always slipping out with his Invisibility Cloak in the blue bag. And Remus had heard about something at lunch today, but noone he’d spoken to knew just what had happened. He cursed himself for being in the library at the time. Obviously, Sirius knew something about it, but Remus doubted that James had told him. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by Sirius’ low growl. He almost sounded like a dog.

"James the honorable. James the perfect. James the golden boy. James, who can do no wrong. It’s always Sirius Black who did it; never James. How many times have I taken the blame for you? I could have lied, or at least told the truth rather than keeping silent, but I didn’t. Oh, they all know. But, they wouldn’t admit it under Veritaserum. Not James Potter, they’d say. And you sit there with your perfect life and tell me that I’m a cheater? I could have been a Prefect, you know," he continued in an almost conversational tone. Almost. But only if a conversational tone could have frozen dragon breath. "But, I let you do it. Because I knew what it meant to you. And I could have been asleep that night when she came downstairs, because I had finished my homework. But I stuck with you. And for that, I’m lying, cheating scum? I’ll tell you what, next time you want me around, and it may not be for a while, but the next time you need someone to talk to, the way everyone else does, know that I won’t be there. It may be weeks, even months, from now. But you’ll look around, and you’ll realize you’ve driven everyone away with your blind arrogance. I’ve always been there for you, but, you know, when we," and here he gestured around the room, "needed someone to talk to, you were just too busy with yourself. You were never there for us. And yet," Sirius paused, thoughtfully. His unblinking stare moved to the window as he gazed briefly into the distance. "And yet you have the audacity to call me a cheater, who exploits girls."

Now James was white-faced, his mouth a grim line, with his arms folded across his chest.

"You know, James," Sirius’ voice was low, almost a whisper, and somehow, that frightened Remus more that his anger. "You’re always so perfect, and I’m always the dark shadow. But, what would they say if they all knew? Would they like you as much if they could see you with your masks stripped away? How would they like the petulant, spoiled brat under it all? I think the golden boy isn’t as pure as he’d have us believe. Maybe it’s just golden plating, and underneath, everything is rotten and spoiled. What do you think, Prongs?"

The question was hardly innocuous in itself, but, more disturbingly, Remus had never seen Sirius like this before. Before, he’d always kept his rage under control. But this, this was the result of years of grudges and deceit remembered by both of them. He wanted to leave, yet he stood transfixed. The smell of hatred hung around them, creating an arena in the middle of the room, and their faces were darkened by shadows from the window. Ominous clouds blew across the night sky, and the stars couldn’t possibly be seen. The window was open, yet that smell clung to them, almost tangible, forcing away the fresh air. With his superior sense of smell, Remus could discern the anger and hatred. It was a rank odor, of blood fresh from the kill, and his mouth almost watered from it. But, his more primal, animal senses recognized something else. The almost palpable emotions carried a peculiar darkness, of the things that lurked in the shadows, and were terrifying there, but whose horror was increased tenfold in the bright light of day, which illuminated them, showing their horror to the world. The human imagination is powerful, but there are things more terrible than can ever be imagined, because noone, even Voldemort, wants to imagine them.

In the hollow eternity after the question, James took a step forward. He was taller than Sirius, but more slender. So it would be even, for if it came to a fight, Remus doubted they’d bother to use their wands. This would be physical. A fight, if they could make it so, to the death.

"I don’t know, Sirius. Perhaps, you would care to tell me?" And he smiled. It was a beautiful smile, the way the lethifold about to wrap a victim is beautifully elegant.

"Yes," Sirius agreed slowly, staring hard at James. "Perhaps I would. It may be best to tell all," and now it was Sirius with that same eerie smile on his face.

They’re like brothers, Remus thought, feeling dizzy from the thick aura that embraced the room, the noxious fumes of raw emotion. They’re like a pair of twins. They’re the same, every mannerism. But, even more, they’ve become the same inside. This wouldn’t be a fight to the death; it would be a fight to suicide. Do they realize how much they depend on each other?

He steadied himself in the lengthening shadows of the room, leaning against the wall, solid and, above all, clean. He felt like that smell would never go away…his knees buckled slightly, but neither of his friends showed any sign of noticing his presence. He doubted they would have seen him if he had been between them. At least, not really seeing. They had eyes only for the other’s face, hungrily recording every weakness, every movement.

"To tell all," Sirius murmured softly. "You accused me of being a lot of things, and I’m not sure that I could forgive you for your words, because they’re lies. But, I can say the one thing that you might never forgive because it’s true. And you don’t like the truth, do you? Truth hurts more than any lie, because you can’t destroy it with virtue; there is no virtue in a true accusation."

"Stop preaching at me, you bastard. You’re not blameless any more than I am."

Now, Sirius smiled again, a dreamy, lazy smile. And it was completely mirthless. "Perhaps. But, I’m not the one who sits there, having everything, but wanting more. You can’t bear it that he got the girl, can you? Anyone else, you might forgive, but, that it’s him, that’s too much for you."

"She deserves better than him."

"And of course, that would be you, I suppose? What makes you so sure she sees you in him? Maybe the only reason she even noticed you was that she sees him in you." Sirius’ smile widened, the malice curling his lips back in a feral grin.

"What would you know about it?" James spoke roughly, his eyes closing briefly. "Do you like her? Is that what this is about, Padfoot?" To human ears, the nickname would have sounded like a plea, an appeal, a reminder of friendship. But Remus could detect the mocking, the turbulence of rage swirling behind the words; and Sirius, with his senses heightened as they must have been, could doubtless hear it too.

"You don’t get it, do you? Even now? Leave her alone. She was better off before she knew you. Let her go. Let her go back."

"How?" His voice was almost hoarse. "I know there’s a difference," he said, his voice gaining an edge. "She’s too good for him. She belongs with me."

"Belongs with you, or to you? Decide which you want, because you can’t have both."

"Their relationship isn’t going anywhere. They were friends, and they decided to play at romance. I would be doing them both a favor by breaking it up. They’ll never do it; they’re too nice. And it would be better for them. This way, he’ll be free to find someone who he really loves." James could hear the defensive quality of his words, but he shut his ears to it.

"Why can’t he love her? Is it an exclusive thing, if you love her, no one else is allowed to? You just keep telling yourself that, hoping it’ll come true. Because it isn’t. Why is it all about you? Why do you refuse to believe that they’re better off as is? Do you really think a relationship with you will be so relaxing, so healthy?"

James was determined in the face of logic. "Yes."

"Face it," Sirius said harshly. You can’t bear it that he’s one up on you in anything. The second he picks up another girlfriend, you’ll try to break them up."

"No, I won’t." Now, James was angry again.

"Yes, you will. I know you. I know what you’ll do. You just can’t take it that he has something you don’t, and you’ll do anything to get it. You’d throw him to the giant squid, if you thought it’d help you."

James was horrified at how Sirius’ words mirrored his own thoughts. "I would not," he said hotly.

"Deny it all you like. You just want to get in her pants because she’s Harold’s girlfriend." James opened his mouth, but Sirius plowed on relentlessly. "You’d hate for him to have anything of his own. For all your words of love undying, there’s nothing. You can accuse me of superficiality all you like, but at least I admit it. I don’t try to lie to myself. I don’t disguise my intentions."

"You sad bastard," James said evenly. "You’re wrong. You are so damn wrong. And I’ll invite you to the party I’m going to throw when I ask her out and she says yes."

"That’s the way to do it," Sirius said sarcastically. "I bow to your superior methods. Stay in the relationship to spite me. Surely that’ll make it onto the list of top ten reasons for maintaining a romance."

"I know what I feel, and I’m damned if I’ll listen to your stupid, pathetic lies. Sod off before I make you regret how thick you are."

"Then damned thou shalt be," Sirius said under his breath as he walked to his bed. "So, Moony, it’s a bit late for carousing about town, but I have no interest in staying with a lovelorn fool. What do you say we make certain changes in living arrangements? Perhaps someone should live somewhere else…or not live at all. After all, it could be arranged." Sirius smiled a false, brittle smile. His faced looked like it was considering the wisdom of giving up in face of the strain and splintering into jagged pieces which, with any luck, would land on the floor right where James would be stepping.

Remus swallowed. So Sirius, at least, had known he was there. It was a testimony to how angry he had been that he bothered with kicking Remus out of the room. Normally, Sirius liked his fights, especially with James, to be private affairs. "Erm, changes don’t sound like the best idea under the circumstances."

"Fine, you don’t have to help," he shrugged. Rolling back the sleeves of his robe in a very threatening way, Sirius pulled his wand out of a pocket. After giving it the usual cursory glance to make sure it wasn’t a trick wand and that it was his wand, Sirius pointed it straight at James.

"Padfoot, don’t do anything you’ll regret," Remus said quickly.

"Oh, I won’t regret this," Sirius said, his face cold. His hair, raven-black and slightly long and shaggy, almost like a dog’s, formed a sort of negative halo around his head. A circle of shadow rather than one of light.

"Go ahead, Padfoot. You have no guarantee that I’ll still be lying here when you say the words," James said pleasantly, stretched out on his bed with an air of apparent unconcern. But Remus could see the alertness, the coiled muscles, ready to spring out of the way. It was there, under the deceptively casual air. But Remus wondered just how fast James would be. And, he wondered, if it came to that, how fast he could move to stop Sirius.

"If I want to get you, you’ll have to be lucky every time. I just have to be lucky once." Sirius’ face was set. "And you don’t know what I’ll do."

James laughed, the sound cheerful and bright against the emotional gloom that still pervaded the room. But there was no joy in his expression. "I know you don’t have the will, or the power, to kill me."

"No; you merely think that."

James looked scornful. "You couldn’t even fight me to be a Prefect. Do you expect me to believe that you’ve gained the strength required to kill in cold blood?"

"It’s a question of whether I want something bad enough, not what you believe. I’ll bet Harold doesn’t believe you to be a back-stabbing bastard, but that didn’t stop you from snogging his girlfriend, did it now? Hate to break it to you and all that, but your beliefs don’t shape the world enough to stop me from doing what I believe to be right." Sirius leveled his wand at James. "So sorry, James."

* * * * *

"So, Lily has this handprint on her arm, and it looks like a burn."

"I asked Madam Pomfrey to not heal it, so that you could see it."

"I’m glad you did that, Miss Evans. This," he paused, gesturing at the handprint, now slightly faded, "could be very important. I need to think about this. Please go back to class…which class were you in?"

"Um, Herbology. Except we weren’t there."

"I see." His eyes twinkled slightly. "Would you like a note?"

"Um, yeah. I mean, yes. That’d be very good."

* * * * *

"Late again, ladies?"

"We have a note," Ellie said swiftly.

"Very well. I hope this is an indication that you have recovered from your delusion that you are above the rules."

"You’re the one who’s delusional, you old cow," Lily said rudely.

Danielle closed her eyes in horror at the enormity of the trouble Lily was getting herself into. This was definitely not a good day for her. Briefly, Ellie wondered if there had been Malaclaw venom in that potion James had given her.

* * * * *

"I hate him! I’m so dead! This stupid curse will never leave me!"

Ellie smoothed Lily’s hair as she cried, tears of anger mingling with tears of humiliation and those of betrayal. She waited for the sobs to quiet before speaking. "Don’t you think you’re overreacting?"

Lily sat up. "No, I’m not."

Ellie sighed. "OK, you don’t have to answer me, but is there anything at all between you and James?"

"Other than complete and utter loathing? I don’t think so," Lily said bitterly.

"I don’t think he hates you."

You should see the way he looks at you when he thinks noone can see him. His heart is in his eyes, and if you asked, he’d place it under your heel for you, Ellie thought silently.

"Why else would he have such a disgusting disregard for me?"

"Is that what this is about?"

Say what you want, it isn’t. I’ve seen you when you think noone is looking. I’m seen you look at him with a hopeless look. Deny it for a million years, Lily Evans, but he’s in your blood, and you’re in his. It was love at first sight, like it or not.

"Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know. I’m feel like I’m stretched so tight. I just want to lash out at someone. And he’s there to lash out at."

You’re angry. You don’t like what you feel and you want to attack the cause.

"So, you don’t like him at all? It was friendship for a week, and now its enmity, but there was never anything…else?" Ellie phrased her question carefully.

"I don’t know. I like Harold. I really like him. And I think I like him more than I could ever like James. Except it’s different. I like Harold. I choose to like him. Whereas, with James, it isn’t a choice," Lily sounded miserable. "What would you do if you were me?"

What would I do if I were you? But I’m not you. I’m not Lily Evans, perfect little girl. Teacher’s pet. Bright and friendly. I’m the weedy, stringy one who hangs around. And I’d never be in this situation. What would I do? I would dump Harold for James. James has more power. But what would I do if I was you? I’d stay with Harold for the rest of my life, allowing myself to be trapped in a loveless relationship. I’d be afraid to hurt him.

Danielle forced a bright smile. "I think you should stick with Harold for some time. I mean, the two of you have such a great relationship. You’re friends, and I don’t think any girl can be friends with James."

"Why not?"

"Well, he’s the quintessential man’s man."

"Oh."

"Tell you what, next weekend we go to Hogsmeade, and we can get back at James and his motley crew."

"Motley crew? They’re not pirates, you know."

"Whatever," Danielle shrugged. "At any rate, we can scare them shitless. Get them back.."

"How?" Now Lily’s face was awash with interest. Cruel interest.

What has he done to you, that you’re like this? It’s only been a week since old Curtis croaked, and you’ve changed so much. You don’t talk to Harold and me as much, and when you do, it’s always James this and James that. What has that boy done to you?

"Well, you know the Shrieking Shack is haunted, and pretty badly. Apparently it only started a few years ago. So, how fast do you think you could learn some spells?"

Lily smiled, and Ellie suppressed a shudder. "Very fast."

"Right, well, we start tomorrow," she said in a brisk tone. As she walked to her bed, her heart cried. What has happened to Lily, she wondered. What has happened to all of us?

* * * * *

Lucius glided on noiseless feet to the clearing in the Forbidden Forest. His lip curled. Why had that stupid girl picked here of all places? He could have given her a Portkey to any place, and instead, he was here, next to the school he had despised. What a horrible place for her first time. Disgusting. They should be in the family manor, surrounded by opulence. And instead it’d be in this beastly place, surrounded by dead leaves, in the shadows, with God-knows-what lurking in the shadows that he held at bay with a circle of magically suspended lights. At least he could solve that problem.

"Bimourius," he whispered silkily, slowly pivoting on his left foot. There was a sad rustling as any living, non-plant creature in the surrounding two feet died. He was quite proud of that curse. He had made it himself, bringing the magic from where it lurked, malleable and ready to be formed. He had set the words necessary to activate the magic. Of course, it needed a fair bit of power to kill anything larger then, say, a kneazle. He’d try once to kill a circle of puffskeins and those ghastly cats, but, while the puffskeins had fallen with only a small whimper, the kneazles had watched him insolently. So, he had used Imperius to prevent them from cleaning themselves. Stupid things had died sooner or later. Although, they did require a bit more assistance from him.

He scowled, studying his shoes. They were made by house elves, not like those shoddy Muggle shoes so many wizards wore nowadays. They even had the gall to sell that cheap crap in Diagon Alley! But, Lord Voldemort would put a stop to all of that. Lucius smiled in the growing darkness. He had met him, and knew him to be a born winner, like himself. More emotional, of course, but that was needed to stir the hearts of the wizarding world. At any rate, he was not a weakling like Grindewald. Or the late head of Malfoy Manor. Stupid fools, both of them. Representatives of a dying ideal. They were outdated, and it was logical for them to die. It was a good thing he had; otherwise it would have been up to Lucius to do his duty and kill the old man. And that could have been messy. It was better when he died in service to Grindewald, without being thrown in Azkaban. That would have been a disaster. Not only would it disgrace the family name, which Lucius could trace back to the Emperor Lucius, who challenged King Arthur and lost, it would also have led to all their wealth being confiscated. The Emperor Lucius, his namesake mused, was a very stupid man. He tried to fight King Arthur, who had one of the world’s most powerful sorceresses on his side. But, the Malfoys had taken their cue from that failure. There was that to be said about them, they learned fast. Still, it was his duty to bring the family into a more enlightened age, and it wouldn’t be as toadies to a Dark Lord. And what he was doing here would help them.

Times are changing. Time is…passing. Lucius glanced at his watch. Where was that girl? As he paced the small circle irritably, his ears straining for the faintest sound, the crack of a twig beneath a foot, the noise as the folds of her robe brushed against each other, he reflected on the wisdom of this. Still, one time couldn’t hurt. If it went…badly, her memory could be modified. The he heard it, so soft noone could have heard it unless they were trying to. The measured treads…he felt his pulse begin to race. Then, there was a crack, loud in the night. Just as he had told her, she was announcing her presence in a manner that would assure him that it wasn’t an ambush. So far, she was doing very well.

"Pristina?"

"Yes," came the response, in a voice that was still childish.

"You can see me face to face."

She entered the clearing, shivering slightly in the air.

"Getting cold this time of year, isn’t it?"

"Somehow, I noticed," she said dryly.

He was impressed. He hadn’t thought she had enough spirit to reply with sarcasm. Or enough intelligence. "Perhaps you should have worn something more. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with scantily clad girls, but you can’t be comfortable."

"No problem," she said, tossing her hair back to fully reveal her clinging, rather revealing robes. Pulling out a wand, she cast a simple warming charm on the clearing before putting it back.

Lucius couldn’t see how she could have concealed it in a pocket. In clothing that tight, a small square of parchment would have been noticeable. Still, he wasn’t complaining. This could be very fun.

"Sorry about being late; a pair of Gryffindors pulled a prank on another Gryffindor. Of course, she was a Mudblood, and it was quite funny."

"Sound like the type of people we want," Lucius said thoughtfully. "But, that’s not important right now. Are you ready?" He could feel his blood pounding…the first time was always the best.

"Yes," Pristina smiled slowly. She stepped closer to him.

He was pulling his cloak off when he heard a noise. He stiffened. She opened her mouth, but he clamped a hand over it. Holding a finger to his lips, he removed the hand. She nodded. Sighing very quietly, he fastened the cloak again. The noise grew louder. It wasn’t the carefully measured tread of someone who was trying to be silent; it was the careless bumbling walk of someone who didn’t think there was anyone to hear him. Fool, Lucius snarled inwardly. Even if the unseen walker didn’t know they were there, he should have the sense to keep quiet. There were other…things in the forest. Things which had no qualms about killing a human who wandered into their midst. Of course, it probably would be preferable for that to happen. Survival of the fittest.

The source of the noise reached the wall and pushed back the branches. Pristina struggled to stop herself from laughing at the sight of a plump, slightly worried face peering through the underbrush. Lucius didn’t bother with good manners, but snickered openly.

"Peter Pettigrew, right?" Pristina smiled at him. He stared, his jaw hanging slightly. Suddenly, Lucius didn’t find him so humorous.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded harshly.

"Um, I just wanted to take a walk." Peter looked at Pristina’s outfit, then forced his eyes back to Lucius’ face. "I’ll be going now."

"Wait, boy," Lucius barked, his hand shooting out to grab Peter by the shoulder.

"Yes?" Peter said, looking nervous.

"What year are you in?"

"Fourth," Peter said in a small voice. He glanced desperately at the opening he had come through, but Lucius’ grip was like a vise.

Interesting, Lucius noted. He squirms like some sort of small, trapped animal.

"Go, boy. And speak to noone of this."

"Oh, no. Of course not, sir," Peter shook his head vigorously. Looking relieved, he scurried away.

"Stupid boy, he nearly wet himself," Pristina said contemptuously.

"Shall we continue?" Lucius’ tone was as smooth as ever.

"Of course. I’ve been waiting ages. If we hurry, I can be back at the school before morning."

"Oh, it won’t take that long," Lucius assured her.

"At any rate, what are we waiting for?"

"Quite true. You impatience speaks well of you. I trust it isn’t necessary to ask if you’re frightened, but many are, the first time." Lucius smiled. Turning slightly, he unfastened his cloak, but he hesitated before letting it drop to the ground.

"No one coming," Pristina sang out.

Laughing, he rolled up his left sleeve. "Do you, Pristina Forrest—,"

"Narcissa," she interrupted.

"Very well. It is your prerogative to choose your name in the service of your Master. Do you, Narcissa Forrest, swear to accept the Dark Lord as your Lord and to obey his judgement and never falter or weaken, to always uphold the principles of us, his followers, never giving solace to Muggle or Mudblood?"

"Yes."

"And will you, Narcissa Forrest, do what you must to defend the Dark Lord, giving your family, your honor, your beauty, your wealth, and your life, should the need arise?"

"Yes, I swear." In her eyes the light of devotion was glowing.

"Do you vow to speak of what has come before and what will come to pass to no one, thought they be of the Chosen?"

"Yes." She was trembling, the great wave of fanaticism rising to fever pitch.

"Ready yourself for the testing. My Lord has been watching us, and if he has found you worthy, we will be taken into his presence. If not, you will be struck down. Be not forsworn," he warned. "If you cannot trust yourself to choose the path that is true, then stop now. It is your last chance; all it will take is a simple memory charm, and you can return to the world of that foul Muggle-lover, Albus Dumbledore, who, even now, strives to erase all that we have done to maintain the purity of the wizarding world." Lucius smiled to himself; the Memory Charm he spoke of was the simplest of them all, and yet, the most unbreakable. Death. A death from which she stood no chance of speaking to the living, even as spirit to necromancer. He could make sure of that. Of course, it’d be a pity to kill such beauty, but if she wasn’t worthy, she would have to die anyway, when the Cleansing began. And perhaps, his Lord would let him have what he wanted from her. Dead or alive.

"I am worthy." Her voice rang out in the night, melding with the rich shadows that surrounded them.

He pressed two fingers of his right hand to the spot on his forearm and muttered the word. "Morsmordrus." He felt the familiar wave, rising through his body until he felt sure that he must be shimmering from the magic. "Hold my arm, you are worthy, we are to be taken into the presence of Lord Voldemort," he said urgently. Her face serious, her clear eyes intense, she gripped his arm tightly. The world around them twisted uncontrollably, there was a flash, and the clearing was empty.

* * * * *

In his room, Dumbledore gripped his chair. Though it was late, he had to remain awake. He couldn’t sleep, not now, not when there was so much to lose. And his watchfulness had paid off. Someone was using magic in the Forbidden Forest. Large magic, according to the magical energy monitor on his desk. And Pristina Forrest and Peter Pettigrew had been seen leaving the building, but neither was stopped. Pettigrew had returned only minutes ago, so he couldn’t be responsible for this. There was no doubt about it, Dumbledore thought. A plot was unfolding.