When the Splendor Falls

Chapter One - Halloween

The splendor falls on the castle walls
And snowy summits old in story
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle, answer, echoes dying dying dying.

-Alfred, Lord Tennyson

"My goodness! I haven't seen one of those since your father came back three sheets in the wind from that rather wild fete years ago - or perhaps that was a bed cloth he was wearing."

James choked in the midst of adjusting his toga and cast scandalized eyes on the gilt-framed mirror hanging next to his desk.

"Maria!" he began in a shocked tone.

"It bunches around the bum," the mirror continued nonchalantly.

"Maria! What are you doing, looking at my bum?"

"La, child, when you get to be my age these things all sort of blend together. Give the tunic a good tug on the left hem, that should straighten it up. Yes, like that. You look very fine indeed, my dear."

"Thank - "

"Who's the lucky young lady?"

"Lily Evans. I - "

"Well, don't keep her waiting. You'll be late if you don't hustle down. Shoo, now. Go on. Don't forget your warming potion, it gets cold around this time of the year. Have a good time, love, and don't drink too much butterbeer, it will make you sick."

James gave his mirror a sulky look. She made a hmphing noise before subsiding quietly. As the boy turned to leave the room, his eye caught on the photograph of a stern, snowy-headed wizard that sat on the bureau. Unlike most magical folk in pictures, he was not moving around or smiling. He sat stiff and immobile as a statue.

James paused a moment as he looked at his father's picture, unable to imagine the old man either drunk or wearing a toga, no matter what Maria might say. David Potter had engrained in him, from the earliest days when he could first understand, that his first and foremost duty was preserving their heritage. Duty, honor, and heritage all went together. The Potter name must not be smirched. The Potter line must not die out. The Potter fortune must not be exhausted. The ancestral Potter halls must remain standing. Oh, and the Potters must fight evil.

James knew it all by heart. His father had done all of it. He had lived a noble life, sired a son, added to the family fortune, renovated Potter Hall, and helped in the fight against Grindelwald. His part was finished.

Now it was James's turn. He had done quite well so far. He led all his classes (well, almost all of them; Lily Evans was always a step ahead in History and Charms). He was Head Boy and Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and general Hogwarts poster-boy, priming to be an Auror. All that was left to do was to marry a nice wizarding girl, preferably with a name and bank account that could match the Potters, and procreate.

James found it somewhat depressing.

He wondered if it would have been any different if his mother had lived. Grace Potter had died nearly eighteen years ago, at the birth of her son. James wondered, too, if his father had cared, since she had given him a boy to carry on the family name and all that went with it. Certainly, David Potter never professed any affection for his dead wife, though he kept a large framed copy of their wedding portrait in the library.

Shaking his head to clear it of such an unpleasant - and certainly unproductive - line of thoughts, James descended the stairs to the Common Room slowly, the sound of laughter from below muted and somehow unreal.

He was exhausted after last night's escapades with his friends down at Hogsmeade, and there'd been no time all day to take a nap. Lily had forced him to work on the Great Hall decorations since morning. To be fair, she certainly wasn't at fault for his fatigue, but he resented her for it anyway.

The prefects had voted on 'Around the World' as the theme for the Halloween masquerade. This was to be the first formal dance held at Hogwarts in over three years, and for James it was certainly the first he had ever gone to. The last time there had been a formal dance he'd only been a third year, and hadn't been permitted to attend. That same dance some seventh years had gotten drunk and ripped up the piping in one of the walls; water had poured out, and the Great Hall had flooded.

Needless to say, the teachers weren't too pleased, and for the next few years there had been no formal balls.

It had been Lily Evans, with her charm and persuasiveness and fluttering green eyes that had finally convinced the faculty and school governors. She and James had lobbied all summer for it, and the minute school started they had begun planning. James did not particularly like Lily Evans - she was too proud, too haughty, too exclusive - but he admired her competency and the not inconsiderable force of her will.

James privately thought that 'Around the World' was a rather cute idea, though he would rather eat Bubotuber pus than say so to either Sirius or Remus. Since it was customary to dress up according to theme, he was going as Caesar opposite Lily's Cleopatra. School tradition dictated that he bring her. She was Head Girl to his Head Boy, and she might have been a haughty, standoffish Slytherin, but she was good-looking and charming and he certainly was not ashamed of being seen with her.

The Gryffindor common room was full of people in costume. He paused for a minute at the stairway, searching out his friends. Sirius, wearing a loincloth and nothing else, Peter, in a pirate costume, and Remus, looking resplendent as an Incan priest, were lounging on the plush crimson chairs. A group of giggling girls surrounded Sirius, much amused (and delighted) by his shirtless state.

"My God, Black, what are you wearing?" James shut his jaw with a snap, though he didn't remember opening it at any point.

"I could ask you the same question, Potter." Sirius waved the girls away and stood to greet his friend. "Clothes make a statement - "

"Mine say, 'Hail the conquering hero,'" interrupted James. "Yours, on the other hand, state clearly that you are a homeless bum with zero fashion sense." At Sirius's wrathful spluttering, James grinned and relented. "However, that shirtless thing seems to work pretty well." He nodded to the girls.

"It's the smoky magnetism coupled with my good looks and these muscles . . ." Sirius trailed off as Remus snorted.

"Muscles? You've got pencils for arms."

"Shut up, Moony." His grin took the sting out of his words.

"We'd better go," said Peter, looking at his watch.

The boys climbed out of the portrait hole. The Fat Lady called out after them, "Have a good time!" and after thanking her, they hurried down the stairs.

***

A year ago, if anyone had ever told Rebecca Neville that someday she'd count Lily Evans among her closest friends, she'd have recommended them to St. Mungo's. Rebecca was a loyal Gryffindor, a Quidditch star, and a mediocre student; Lily was a Slytherin, Head Girl, and a brilliant scholar.

But Fate, in the guise of the potion mistress, Professor Costain, had thrown them together on a project, and after a few hair-raising escapades in the Forbidden Forest, they'd become fast friends.

Among the most important things that Lily had taught her was that 'Slytherin,' contrary to popular Gryffindor beliefs, did not symbolize pure, raw evil. Lily was ambitious and spectacularly gifted in the academic field, but there was nothing about her that could be classified as wicked and cunning. In fact, she was one of the most straightforward and honest people that Rebecca had ever known.

Arabella Figg and Narcissa Ransom, two Ravenclaws, completed their circle of friends. They were a motley group, and people still shook their heads when referring to the mismatched quartet, much as they shook their heads when referring to the infamous Gryffindor Marauders. In her fifth year Rebecca had dated the notoriously charming Sirius Black himself, but had found his wandering eye decidedly irritating; she was now engaged to steady and dependable Frank Longbottom, a Hufflepuff prefect and Chaser.

Tonight the four girls were in Lily's room, because as Head Girl she had the largest and most private quarters. While the Slytherin dorms themselves were located in the dungeons, Lily's was on the ground story. It had its own private entrance through a painting of Tristan and Isolde; the only complaint Rebecca had was that oftentimes the pair were too busy snogging to remember to let her in when she gave them the password.

Rebecca was currently sprawled out on Lily's bed, while Lily and Arabella helped Narcissa complete her costume. Rebecca was already dressed in a glorious peacock brocade trimmed in gold. She was costumed as a French princess, as Frank had informed her that he would be going as Napoleon.

Arabella was gowned as the goddess Athena. Her long black hair was tucked under an extraordinary gold helmet. Lily, as Cleopatra, wore pleated white linen and carved sandals. Gold cords and bright stones were woven into her bright hair. Her jewelry shone with beaten gold, brilliant blue lapis lazuli, and deep red rubies.

The Slytherin girl was braiding Narcissa's long pale hair, while Arabella murmured cosmetic charms over her fellow Ravenclaw's beautifully molded features. Narcissa was dressed as an Aztec priestess, her pale beauty set off by the rich aqua of her robes.

"There," Lily was saying. "All finished. You look wonderful, Narcissa."

Narcissa turned her head to examine the cascade of curls falling down one side of her head. "Thank you so much, Lily," she said, with a pleased smile. "You're so good with hair."

Lily dimpled with pleasure, showing fine straight teeth. "I'm glad you like it."

Narcissa gave her a hug, while Arabella, throwing her black hair over her shoulder, glanced at the clock.

"Up, Becca," she said, looking distractedly for her wand, which she had set down somewhere and lost. "Time to get going. We're going to be late."

The four girls hurriedly set the room to rights with a few quick flicks of their wands, and throwing their skirts over their arms, they climbed out of the portrait hole and hurried toward the Great Hall.

***

Annalice Longbottom pulled at her brother's coat. "There," she said, and stood back to admire her handiwork.

"These breeches are horribly tight," Frank said morosely as he examined himself in his mirror. Annalice grinned and admired her brother's Quidditch-honed calves.

"You've got nothing to be ashamed of," she said soothingly.

"Do you think Rebecca will think I look all right?"

"Rebecca will fall over and swoon," she promised. "Let's hurry up now, or we'll be late."

Lifting the folds of her skirt, she beckoned to her brother. He squinted at her, seeing her clearly for the first time that night.

"What are you supposed to be?" he asked, gaping at her simple buckskin dress. She smiled and twirled for his benefit.

"Pocahontas," she said, and snickered at his look of horror.

"Good lord," he murmured. "What's Black going to wear?"

Her grin broadened. "Sirius? He'll be wearing a loincloth."

Frank groaned, and Annalice, laughing, hustled him out of the Hufflepuff dorms.

***

Nothing had ever looked quite as distasteful to Severus Snape as the sight of his date, Elyse Goyle, coming forward to meet him.

"Hi, Sev," she said, in a throaty purr meant, Severus supposed, to be alluring. It only succeeded in making him want to be suddenly and violently sick on the common room floor.

"Hi, Elyse," he said tightly, with a pained smile. "You look . . . nice."

Even Severus was appalled by the enormity of his lie. Dressed in a violently violet flapper dress, she looked like an extremely overweight gorilla to him, and the black mink coat she wore over the horrible sequined skirt didn't help any. And that shade of purple was not her color. Severus didn't know if it was anyone's color, but it was definitely not hers.

"Do I?" She fluttered her lashes. Severus choked. Elyse had never had lashes, and the false ones she wore now looked blatantly . . . false. Her four chins wobbled as she giggled. "Why, thank you."

"You're . . . welcome." His skin had by now taken on an unattractive green tint. He'd never before noticed that she had a bosom like a sheep's, and that she apparently had a six-pack - one that jiggled like pudding. Okay, so not a six pack. Six enormous folds of fat on her belly.

Fortunately, the coat she wore covered her for the most part. It was only when she tried to move seductively that the front fell open and the purple dress glittered and her thick waistline became apparent.

"Let's go," he said in a strangled tone, and forced himself to help her out of the common room.

***

Sirius had always maintained that James was stiff as a poker and needed to learn how to relax. The truth of this statement hit Remus particularly hard as he watched the two boys wait for their dates to appear.

While Remus and Peter were going alone and James was taking Lily Evans, Sirius had pretty little Annalice Longbottom, Frank Longbottom's twin, for his date. The two had grown up together (in other words, when they were both five years old Annalice had tried to force him to eat a mudpie she'd made and in retaliation he had smeared it into her hair) and treated each other like brother and sister. That is to say, the two fought like cat and dog on a daily basis, but if anyone else tried to bully Annalice, they'd earn themselves a nice punch in the stomach from Sirius, usually accompanied with a blow to the jaw. Neither was romantically interested in the other, but Sirius always escorted Annalice to any Hogwarts social function.

While Sirius lounged against the wall, not minding the rough-hewn stones of the corridor walls digging into his bare back, James stood erectly. He had a commanding, unrelenting aura that sat strangely on his seventeen-year-old shoulders. It was a presence that made his fellow Marauders willing to follow him to the ends of the earth, a magnetism that made the girls grow weak-kneed and giggly, a quiet self-assurance that encouraged his friends and made his enemies falter.

Footsteps sounded hastily down the Hufflepuff corridor, and in a second Annalice appeared in view, Frank close at her heels. She was as light on her feet as thistledown, and her brother smiled as he watched her throw herself at Sirius. Sirius caught her in a bear hug, and she laughed aloud.

"I think Rebecca is with Lily," James said to Frank, watching his friend with quiet amusement. "We can meet them down at the Entrance."

The five boys and Annalice, chattering happily, walked down the stairs toward the Great Hall.

***

The entrance hall was full of people, as the doors to the Great Hall hadn't yet been opened. People who were meeting partners from other Houses were calling to each other from over the crowd. Narcissa's escort, a fellow Ravenclaw, had long since swept her off, and Arabella and Lily were left waiting for their own dates.

Lily leaned against the wall, her pleated skirts swirling around her slim ankles, her eyes dreamy as she thought of James Potter. She could see him so clearly in her mind's eye, the smoky gray eyes, the laughing voice, the boyish lopsided grin. People said that the window to a person's soul was through the eyes. Lily disagreed. It was in the smile.

Lily trusted and respected James, if she did not exactly like him, and she had felt a secret thrill of satisfaction when she had learned that she would be going to the Halloween dance with him. Shameful and foolish as it was, she took pride in the fact that her escort was one of the Hogwarts golden boys.

Nor could she forget all the times he and his friends had helped her out of the kindness of their hearts.

She closed her eyes, thinking back to first year. Mudblood, a then third year Lucius Malfoy had called her, and Sirius Black, though only half the other boy's size, had beat him up for it. She knew he would have done it for anyone, but it still made her smile every time she thought of it.

Third year. She had broken a bottle of Veritaserum, and she'd been terrified. Professor Costain had been furious. Then Remus Lupin had told the wrathful lady that he had been the one who had knocked it off the shelf. He had been sentenced to a week of detention, getting off easy because the potion mistress liked him, but Lily had always admired him for it. Though they were barely more than acquaintances, he always had a special smile for her when they passed each other in the hall.

Fifth year. Severus Snape had cornered her in a deserted hallway one afternoon, and tried to kiss her. Peter Pettigrew had stumbled along and seen her face, and thrown a well-aimed dungbomb before disappearing. Lily had managed to escape Snape's clutches while he charged down the hall searching for the culprit. Lily herself sometimes wondered how Peter had managed to escape so quickly, but it was none of her business, she told herself.

Sixth year. Valentine's Day. Lily, somewhat reserved and aloof, knew she would not be getting one of the flower-grams the prefects were selling. Part of her didn't care if she got a half-wilted rose or not. But the other half? She couldn't help it - it would have been nice if someone sent her one. But to her surprise, there had been a rose for her. To Lily. Here's to a year of work well done. I really enjoy working with you. From your friend, James Potter.

She had charmed the rose to bloom forever.

Lily wondered if they knew how many gifts they had given in their seven years at Hogwarts, not only to her, but to everyone around them. She remembered James bailing student after student out of Filch's clutches in his three years as first prefect and then Head Boy. She remembered seeing Remus helping the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid. She remembered Sirius charming a shy fourth year girl out of her shell. She remembered patrolling the halls one night the first week of school and seeing Peter comforting a redheaded and extremely homesick little first-year boy called Wesley or Weasley or something like that.

Had they known that their small acts of kindness would be remembered long after their jokes had faded and their laughter was silent? She sensed that they were kind unawares. That they had a knack for doing nice things without noticing himself doing them. Perhaps that was the definition of kindness - to do good without ordering yourself to do it.

"Oi!" Arabella shouted suddenly, breaking Lily's train of thoughts, as a tall, dark haired boy dressed as Apollo swung into view. Lily recognized Logan Ackerly, a Gryffindor Beater, and Arabella's date for tonight. He turned, and seeing Arabella, grinned and hurried toward her.

"Hey, Arabella," he said, smiling.

The tall, black-haired girl smiled back, a warm, vivacious smile that began in her eyes, and took the arm her offered. "I'll see you," she said to her two friends as she drifted away.

"I think I see Frank," Rebecca murmured, standing on her tiptoes to peer over the heads of the crowd.

"That's definitely Black," Lily said. Sirius stood a good head taller than everyone else, and where Sirius Black was, James Potter was sure to be nearby. "Let's fight our way in that direction."

Rebecca laughed. The people parted like a river around a rock as they flitted across the hall towards Frank and the Marauders.

"Frank!" Rebecca threw herself at her fiancé. He grinned broadly when he saw her.

"Rebecca! You look beautiful." He swung her up by her slim waist. A few boys tried to get a glimpse up her voluminous skirts, but got nothing for their pains but a flurry of white petticoats and a hoop in their eyes.

Lily, with an assured, arrogant grace, stepped up to James and held out her hand. He surprised her by taking her fingers in his and placing a light kiss on the back of her hand.

"You look lovely," he said. She sank into a deep curtsey.

"Thank you," she said with an answering smile, aware that several eyes followed them.

"Look, McGonagall's opening the doors," said Arabella eagerly. The crowd surged forward as the great oaken doors swung open. There was a collective gasp as the students trooped into the hall.

The décor was awe-inspiring. Lily felt a burst of pride at the excited murmur that exploded around them. She and James and the other prefects had worked tirelessly for months to achieve the effect. Venetian canals gave way to Grecian temples and Egyptian pyramids. The Tower of Pisa leaned onto the Eiffel. The Great Wall stretched past the Circus Maximus, while stage coaches rattled past the Taj Mahal.

Each of the long banquet tables seated ten, and they all chose to sit together at the one in the Temple of Dendur, between an alabaster vase and a sarcophagus. After scanning the menus and ordering their dinners, they applied themselves enthusiastically to their food. The house elves had outdone themselves for tonight's feast.

When the last of the desert had been cleared away,Dumbledore stood and made a speech. Lily and James stood amid applause as the Headmaster commended them for their work on the decorations.

"And now," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling, "Let the dancing begin."

***

"Will you do it for me?"

Juliet Montague felt her heart catch in her throat at her lover's gentle voice. Her eyes closed, and she wondered, would she do it for him? Could she do it for him?

The answer was simple. He was her whole world, and she'd go against everything she'd been taught to believe in, if only he asked it. She'd even make this final sacrifice for him. She'd brand herself as another shadow of the Darkness if it was what he wished.

Words she had recited as a very small child at her Muggle grandmother's knees came back to her from across the years. She thought of the low-eaved church she had attended, and the stately old woman that had given her sweetmeats for every line of the Bible she memorized.

Wither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried.

"Yes," she said softly, twisting the ring at her neck. She wanted to wear it on her finger, but she couldn't, not yet. No one knew of her love for the Slytherin. Her own house would despise her for it, and though she would not have minded, he cautioned her that it would not be wise.

The whole school was preparing for the Halloween dance, but neither of them would be going. They could not go openly and together, so they trysted in the disused bedroom in the northwest wing where they had always met. While the other students laughed and danced and talked in the gardens below, they lay quiet and content in their bed.

He propped himself up on one arm and looked at her searchingly, then lifted the hand he held and unfurled her fingers, pressing a soft, warm kiss into her palm. Juliet felt her throat grow raw with the intensity of her emotions.

"I'll do anything for you, Laurence Lestrange," she whispered, raising herself a little as well. Her dark ropes of shining hair rippled over her shoulder like black water. Her skin was very white in the ghostly moonlight. "I would follow you through heaven and earth and hell if you ask it of me."

He swallowed as he looked down at her, and they both knew that that was exactly what he was asking.

"Juliet," he said, as though tasting her name on his tongue. And then again, just a fraction louder, "Juliet."

She reached out to him, touching the warm golden skin of his bare shoulder.

"I'm here," she said, and his arms curled around her, and their tears mingled as they fell, tasting acrid and better on their tongues.

***

Lily detachedly watched James and Rebecca dance from a shadowy corner. They both danced well, but she could not shake the feeling that they weren't moving together. It was when James handed Rebecca back to Frank and she watched as the Hufflepuff bent his head and kiss her friend tenderly that an unexpected pang of loneliness hit her.

The people, the laughter, the easy camaraderie that pervaded throughout the room, seemed to include everyone but herself. She did not belong anywhere. Her own friends were absorbed in their dates, and she was not welcome among anyone else. The Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws hated her for being Slytherin, and the Slytherins reviled her for being Muggle-born.

She stirred, restlessly, longing to get away. She'd danced the first dance with James, but other girls had snagged him up the second the music shifted and she'd been left to drift among the outside fringes of the dancers.

"May I have this dance, Lily?" asked a quiet, polite voice to her side.

Lily turned to see a smiling Peter Pettigrew holding out his hand to her. She blinked, surprised that he'd ask. Peter was popular, though easily overlooked next to his brighter and brasher friends.

It was not that he was particularly ugly, or stupid, or clumsy. He was simply insignificant. His features were clean and well formed, and his voice, though it still cracked occasionally, was pleasant and low. He was neither very tall nor very clever, but his gentleness and patience and kindness made up for it. Though he was not exactly fat, he was solidly built.

"With pleasure," she said, giving him her hand. He smiled his gentle smile, and his eyes told her how pleased he was.

He was only an inch taller than she was, but he was a good partner. Not as graceful as his friends, but he didn't trod on her toes. They moved slowly in time to the music, a dreamy song about love and good times. Lily's bright hair spilled over his white shirt like wine. He smelled of soap, clean and wholesome. She could hear the beat of his heart against her cheek. Steady and dependable, she thought, and closed her eyes. She felt pleasantly drowsy. While dancing with James made her heart pound and her blood roar, with Peter she had to repress a desire to sleep.

When the music ended he released her. 'Thank you," he said.

"The pleasure was mine."

"You're an excellent dancer."

"Thank you, and the same for you. Are you having a good time?"

"Very much so. You did a wonderful job with the decorations, Lily. It's beautiful."

"It's very kind of you to mention it." Lily smiled. "We all worked hard. Have you tried the food? The house elves outdid themselves tonight."

"In that case," said Peter, with a slight grin, "I think I'll go attack the food table. Enjoy yourself."

She nodded her thanks and watched him walk away. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her senses go alert.

Don't be silly, she told herself. He was probably just being kind.

The room was too hot, too oppressive. Lily dodged several swaying couples and slipped out of a side way under cover of the soft shadows.

Lily held herself tall and regal. Walk like Cleopatra, she whispered to herself, and sank down by the pool that she herself had charmed to look like the Nile. Cleopatra, she thought again, bitterly. But Cleopatra had had her Caesar.

Don't think about it, Lily told herself. She actually held up a hand against it.

But loneliness hit her like a smart bomb, anyway. No! No! Lonely, she thought, wonderingly. Narcissa and Arabella and Rebecca were wonderful friends, and they were so close. But always, there would be loneliness, joining them like a fifth person. Of all the subjects they had discussed in their years as friends, they had never once talked about loneliness. How could you sit with your closest friends and admit that in spite of their friendship, you were lonely?

Suddenly it was imperative to her to make a wish in this pool, this Nile, this night.

Firm, even footsteps sounded on the stone behind her. She knew without turning that it was James Potter. She stilled, feeling every nerve in her body grow tingly.

James, coming up from the castle, felt his breath catch in his throat as he found his date sitting forlornly by the Nile. Some part of him had always known that Lily was beautiful, but he'd never been aware of her beauty. He'd always taken it for granted. But tonight he was acutely conscious of it, of the way her lashes fell over eyes that were sad instead of cynical, and the curve of her cheek as it rested against an alabaster vase. There was no mockery in her face tonight.

She was sitting by the pool with her knees drawn up, gold sandals half-tucked under the sharp creases of her pleated white gown. Gold cords and bright stones were woven into her bright hair. Her jewelry shone with beaten gold, brilliant blue lapis lazuli, and deep red rubies. Her head was bent so that the long loose locks of flame colored hair hung like a veil about her, falling to the ground.

She stiffened at the sound of his footsteps. Not wanting to shatter the dreamy quality of the silence, he said softly, "Lily."

She didn't turn. Instead, in a low tone, she asked, "Can you lend me a penny?"

For a minute he just stood, stupidly. A penny? What did she want with a penny? Then he gathered his wits about him again.

"Lend?" he asked, at last. His voice was teasing. "That means you'll return it?"

She gave a slight half smile, though she didn't look at him. "Absolutely. I wouldn't want you in financial difficulties."

He smiled, though she couldn't see it, and held out a handful of pennies, waiting for her to choose.

Lily took the oldest penny, the one that looked as if it had experience, and had been around the world. She didn't want any shiny new amateur penny. She wanted one to make the wish come true.

Wish I may, wish I might,

Have the wish I wish tonight . . .

She wanted to whisper out loud. As if, like Pharaoh's daughter, she was surrounded by priestesses who could turn alligators into gods.

But she was only Lily Evans.

It turned out that one wish was not enough. She took a second penny, and then a third. Each penny she gripped with such intensity she could hardly bear to let go. They fell slowly through the water.

James handed over pennies until he had none left.

"What's your wish?" he asked finally. "Must be important."

"That would be telling," said Lily, smiling half-heartedly. "The wish might not come true."

He smiled in the darkness.

"Let's dance again," said James. "Or, alternatively, we could eat. I like eating more than anything. You're not on a diet, are you? I hate girls on diets. One quick shove into the Nile for you if you're on a diet."

Lily laughed and shook her head. He held out her hand to her. It was large, and callused, and warm. She stood.

Her gown was bound at the waist by a thick gold cord, and the skirt fell in scores of crisp pleats around her ankles. Her loose hair with its glittering jewels fell about her shoulders. She felt - and was - half exposed.

The flickering torchlight illuminated James's face. His hair was thick and satiny, and his eyes, not hidden as they usually were behind glasses, were bright and warm. How young he was, thought Lily, to give off such an aura of power.

They danced and shared a slice of cake - James liked the icing and Lily the cake itself - and danced some more. Not inside, where people were laughing and screaming and talking. They swayed by the Nile under the starlight, with the moon for chaperone. The wind sighed. The music, coming from far away as it was, was faint and lovely.

In her white gauze and bright jewelry, she glittered every time she passed under a torch. James touched her earrings and made them swing. They were tiny cats suspended in repeating circles of gold. He seemed mesmerized by the pendulum action.

Look at me, not my jewelry, Lily willed him.

He looked at her.

She shivered suddenly, and he asked softly, "Cold?"

She shook her head, but he threw his toga of her shoulder anyway. Its silky lining, rich his scent and shape, caressed her bare arms.

When he took her hands she could feel his fingerprints. She read the whorls and curls as if she were the FBI. The combination of his smile, his voice, and his scent made her dizzy.

I think, thought Lily, that this is called falling in love.

***