Rising from Embers

RISING FROM EMBERS
by shiiki

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CHAPTER FOUR

Taking a Chance

October, 1976

The arrival of an unexpected October blizzard put an end to the first-years’ flying lesson. James helped Madam Hooch gather the old school broomsticks and herd the disappointed first-years back towards the castle.

James finished locking up the broom shed and glanced at his watch. He had an hour to his next class, and nothing to do between now and then. Sirius would be in Muggle Studies, Remus and Peter in the library studying. James supposed he could always join them, but he didn’t quite fancy holing himself up with a bunch of books at the moment.

The snow was coming down hard and fast; already a layer of white was forming over the grounds, and visibility was decreasing steadily. James let out a low whistle as he loped across the Quidditch pitch, towards the castle, through the whirling flurry of white flakes.

He wasn’t the only one out; he could just make out a figure hurrying back to the castle from Hagrid’s hut. He squinted at it, and saw distinctive red hair flying out behind the figure – a girl.

Lily.

He could catch up with her, accompany her to the common room – or wherever it was she was headed for. Would that be too presumptuous of him? Surely not … and – his heart started to race at this – perhaps, just perhaps, if he did this right, she might finally accept if he asked her to Hogsmeade.

A smile spread across his face, as James began to run.

~ * ~

It was evident to Lily that she wasn’t going to be able to help Hagrid with his pumpkins, and if the storm continued to build up, she had better get back to the castle now, before it got worse. Bidding Hagrid farewell, she stepped out into the snow.

It was colder out than she had expected. The wind howled at her, and the freezing snow lashed at her cheeks. Pulling her cloak tighter around her and clutching her Herbology text to her chest, she started off across the Hogwarts grounds, against the torrent of the strong gale and almost-blinding snow.

‘Lily!’

Her heart sank as the familiar but not-exactly-very-welcome voice of James Potter hailed her. He was hurrying along the snow-covered grounds, his head bowed against the wind. Lily sighed, and out of politeness, stopped briefly to wait for him.

It wasn’t that she really detested him now; quite the contrary, in fact. Potter had changed, extraordinarily, since last year. At times, Lily found herself actually warming to him, when he gave her one of his charming smiles – yes, he did have a rather gallant streak in him. He didn’t speak to her much nowadays, nor had he indulged in one of his infamous hex-attacks so far this year. And there was that last prefect meeting … But even considering all this, she couldn’t help being wary, as though this new and improved Potter was a trap she might fall for, like one of his uncountable pranks. Already she had found herself thinking, on many occasions, that he might prove her wrong. But she always caught herself quickly, not willing to trust him so easily. After all, what cause had he given her before to do so?

‘Lily,’ said Potter again, breathlessly, as he reached her.

‘Potter,’ she acknowledged with a curt nod and brief upward twitch of her lips, and continued walking. Potter kept up with her easily, with his long strides. At first he was silent, and Lily was torn between being thankful that he was at least not trying to chat her up, or being exasperated that he had made her wait for him to catch her when he had nothing to say.

‘So what brings you out here, in this snow?’ he finally said, quite obviously trying a little too hard to sound nonchalant. A pick-up line? Lily sighed again, deciding that she preferred the silence.

‘Hagrid wanted some help with his pumpkins,’ she replied. ‘But – the weather didn’t agree.’

Potter nodded amiably. ‘The snow’s really coming on hard – unexpected isn’t it? I mean, it’s only October. The first-years were really disappointed; it’s their first flying lesson. I was supposed to be helping Hooch with the class, ‘cause I’ve got a free period, but she cancelled it because of the storm.’

‘I see,’ said Lily, mildly surprised. Potter had the same free period as her? She hadn’t known …

‘Anyway, I suppose you’ll be heading back to the Tower?’

‘Well, I thought of going to the library, but I thought I’d put some of my books down before Transfiguration.’

Potter glanced at the heavy bag of books slung over her shoulder, and the textbook she held in her arms.

‘Let me help you with that –’ He reached out to relieve her of her load.

‘No – don’t be absurd, Potter – no, really, I can manage!’ She grabbed his wrist to stop him. There really was no need for him to offer. If he thought it would impress her … was he just trying to curry favour with her as a new tactic to get her to go out with him? Oh Merlin, she thought, when will he stop trying?

‘All right,’ he said uncertainly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

They were passing the castle courtyard. A small figure burst out of the door and, tripping over her absurdly long cloak, pitched forward, right into Potter.

‘Oof –’ He doubled over, momentarily winded. Lily suppressed a chuckle, as she noticed the poor girl get to her feet, looking positively terrified at having run head-first into the infamous James Potter. Lily was about to offer her some comfort; reassure her that they weren’t about to gobble her up, when Potter straightened and faced the girl, an odd sizing-up kind of look in his eye.

‘I’m s-sorry!’ squeaked the girl immediately, apprehensively eyeing the wand that Potter drew out of his pocket.

Lily hurried whipped out her own wand by reflex, ready to deflect any hexes he might choose to inflict on the hapless girl, as he had so often done for every minor infraction over the years. In that moment, it was the old Potter again – arrogant and full of self-importance, always hexing others once they annoyed him … and Lily wasn’t just going to stand there and let him –

But Potter simply tapped the girl’s cloak lightly, muttering a Shortening Charm. Immediately the girl’s absurdly long cloak reduced several inches, such that it was the perfect length for her.

‘There,’ said Potter kindly. ‘You won’t be tripping over that any more, I hope.’

Relief, accompanied by a wide smile, spread over the girl’s face. She had undoubtedly, like Lily, been expecting the worst. After joyfully thanking Potter, she dashed off across the courtyard.

Lily was speechless. Potter glanced briefly at her surprised expression and said quietly, ‘You thought I was going to hex her, didn’t you.’

‘No! I mean yes … I mean …’ Lily was embarrassed to find her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

Potter laughed mirthlessly. ‘You still don’t think I’ve changed, do you.’

A twinge of guilt pricked at her. He was right, in a way. He had changed, and she’d noticed the little things he did now. Such as breaking up a fight between younger students. Or not picking a fight with Snape. But it was hard not to revert to her former opinions of him … And he didn’t really expect her to just change her perceptions overnight, did he?

‘Old habits die hard, Potter,’ she said defensively.

‘Hard, but not impossible.’ With this cryptic come-back, Potter reached out to open the castle door for her. Gratified by his small but gentlemanly action, Lily couldn’t help but smile.

‘Thank you.’

Potter nodded, and held the door a little while longer as two sixth-year Gryffindors came rushing in breathlessly.

‘Hi, James!’ said one of them brightly, as Potter let the door shut against the raging blizzard outside. ‘Cold out, isn’t it?’

‘Certainly,’ said Potter amiably. The girl beamed as though he had just offered her a precious compliment.

‘It sounds almost alive,’ commented the other girl, jerking her head towards the closed door. Lily agreed whole-heartedly with her – maybe it was just her imagination, but there was a grievous, anguished quality to the wind.

The Muggles were screaming, louder and louder.

‘Sounds like someone’s being tortured out there,’ said the first girl carelessly.

It was uncanny how a few throwaway words could have such a huge effect: Lily didn’t see Potter’s eyes flash angrily, didn’t hear the cross words he shot at the girls, didn’t watch them hurry away, eyes darting to the pocket which contained his wand. She heard nothing but the torturous howling of the wind. Only it wasn’t the wind.

Flames licking away at human flesh.

People frantically trying to escape.

People being burnt alive.

Screams.

Her eyes squeezed shut, hands tight over her ears.

The hopeless, anguished wails of people in their death throes.

She didn’t feel her book slip from her fingers, or the bag that fell from her arms, which had suddenly gone rigid. Her eyes were stinging with tears: hot, angry tears that blurred her vision.

Potter caught both book and bag deftly, and laid them gently aside. ‘Are you all right?’

Yes, she was. She didn’t need his help. She fought to control herself, but the strong, brave words would not come. Lily closed her eyes, desperately trying to force her tears back, and drew a shaky breath.

‘Lily –’ Potter’s arm found her back awkwardly, and he drew her close.

The part of her mind that was still her, Lily, was protesting loudly against his actions – it was too assuming, too invasive of him. But he felt so warm … and safe …

Potter didn’t say anything, only held her tight as she cried, tears of fear, anxiety and anger falling fast. She suddenly felt like there were two Lilys within her: the old, sensible and strong one who was screaming away at her to get away from James Potter this instance, and this new, quaking being who was leaning against him, unable to quench the tears which leaked out of her eyes. And the normal Lily was losing her grip. She felt like a little girl again, a child crying in her mother’s arms. He held her until her sobs finally diminished, and for a moment, she almost thought she was five years old, home with her parents, and Voldemort and the war were all a distant nightmare.

And then she looked up, and saw hazel eyes staring back into her own green, and she was falling … sinking … drowning …

He was much too close. She could feel his breath on her face. He was going to –

Potter released her abruptly, tearing his gaze from hers. Lily felt slightly dizzy.

Of course you’re disconcerted; how bloody close was he? What if he had … taken advantage of the moment?

But he hadn’t. And now, he was bending down to pick up her books.

‘Shall – shall I help you with them?’ he asked awkwardly.

‘S’okay,’ mumbled Lily, taking them from him. She slung the bag over her shoulder and they continued walking. A few minutes of silence passed. Her mind was a whirl, a mix of anger, fear and a strange feeling she couldn’t describe in the pit of her stomach. Lily sneaked a sidelong glance at Potter, and suddenly wondered what he thought of it – the war. He was against You-Know-Who, she knew; the thought had crossed her mind that it might be a game for him, and others like him, who didn’t know what was at stake.

And the thought of it scared her.

‘Potter, are you scared?’ she found herself asking.

‘Of course,’ said Potter, after a pause. ‘Everyone’s afraid sometimes. I – well, if you really want to know, I was, when I tried to ask you out.’ He smiled, slightly embarrassed.

‘No – I mean – the war…’

Potter didn’t answer right away. Lily thought he must think it a silly question. It had been stupid of her to ask him – he probably thought her idealistic, to hope for a war without a price … he probably wouldn’t ever understand the mind-numbing fear she felt for her family, or the twisted uncertainty pervading her when her thoughts turned to the war.

‘So that’s what it was about,’ he said finally. ‘It must be awful for you – to be Muggle-born … when a pure-blood maniac like Voldemort’s around.’

‘It – it’s not that.’

Potter looked at her enquiringly, expecting her to explain.

‘I mean, I worry about my family, but that’s not all. I – I don’t know what it is we’re fighting about, sometimes.’

‘Ash Christmas,’ he said softly, surprising her. That was what the Prophet had called the tragedy last year – when the Aurors had burnt thirty-six Muggles alive along with the Death Eaters they were hunting. Lily hadn’t thought that James would have bothered much about it in the first place, let alone bring it up now.

‘I saw it,’ said Lily quietly. ‘I – it – you really don’t want to know about it. I don’t suppose you’d understand.’

Potter looked at her shrewdly. When he answered, it was something Lily had never imagined.

‘My mum was there.’

‘She –’ Lily suddenly recalled: James’s mother … Patricia Potter. The witch whom Lily had met at the scene of the tragedy.

‘She’s an Auror – was an Auror. She quit afterwards. She told me that she couldn’t forgive herself for it, and she didn’t expect me to. And it wasn’t worth it – watching those Muggles and even the Death Eaters die, she knew that the price was too high. We’re turning into them. That’s what she said. That’s why she quit.

‘Before it – before, I wanted to be an Auror too. I wanted to fight him – because of all the shit he was causing. And then … I realised that maybe it was all wrong, the way we were fighting back.

‘Now … I’ve kind of made up my mind. I’m going to join the Aurors anyway. But I won’t do it like this. There’s got to be another way to fight. Someone’s got to start the change. Why not me?’

Lily stared at his face as he spoke: his eyes were flashing furiously, his mouth set in determination. There was a certain aura of strength and courage radiating from him that Lily couldn’t help but admire. Despite all that she might have found him, James Potter deserved to be in Gryffindor. No question about it.

Maybe there really was more to him now than petty vengeances and immature pranks.

They had arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. Potter stopped suddenly, and made an indistinct noise as Lily opened her mouth to give the password.

‘What?’

‘I – er …’ He blushed so deeply that he could have replaced his face with a tomato. ‘It’s probably not the best thing … I mean …’

‘What?’ she repeated, her hand unconsciously rising to her hip.

‘There’s a – ah – well, there’s a Hogsmeade visit on Hallowe’en.’ Potter grinned sheepishly. He took a deep breath, and said lightly, ‘D’you want to go with me?’

His tone was careless; the casual innocence he injected into the question was faintly reminiscent of the myriad of previous occasions on which he had attempted to ask her out.

Her instinctual response was to shake her head and walk away, but for the first time, she repressed it, and made herself look into his eyes. Scrutinising his face, she saw clearly the nervousness in his eyes, as they blinked with unusual frequency; the tautness of his throat, as though the muscles there were working hard to control his voice and tone. His nose twitched, almost imperceptibly. He wasn’t as confident as he sounded.

I was afraid, when I tried to ask you. She remembered him saying it. A minute apprehension, compared to the weighty concerns in the world now, but that didn’t make it any less difficult for him. Was he struck by that same fear now – fear that she would turn down his suggestion, ridicule it and belittle him, as she had done countless occasions before? And would she, if she had thought to look carefully all those other times, have seen the same unease peeping at her from under his façade of self-certainty?

James Potter had indeed changed – he was no longer the same, boisterous bighead that he had been a few years ago. And, Lily realised, it couldn’t have happened in a day. The change had been there, all along, all throughout the past year; some part of her must have seen it, noticed it, but she had never allowed it to make an impression on her mind. Yet, subtly, she had softened, and now, it had finally led to today.

A turning point.

She recalled his eyes when he had stared at her, earlier on. The intensity of his gaze. He had almost kissed her – yes, he could have, so easily – and it would have happened, had he not backed away. And he had done so – understanding washed over her – because he knew she would have been mortified if he had done it.

All this while, she had thought that it was nothing but a joke. But maybe she was wrong.

James Potter was serious about her.

She had forgiven many people over the years. Petunia, whose refusal to accept that she belonged at Hogwarts hurt her everyday. Severus Snape, who called her a Mudblood. Why was her heart so hardened against James?

He could hurt her, as he had when their friendship had crumbled in light of his new-found popularity during their third year. But had she hurt him back in the years that followed, by her constant disdain?

She had turned him down, made a fool of him, scolded and yelled and screamed at him for years, yet he continued to ask her and wait for her to change her mind – which was more than she had ever bothered to do for him after the shattering of their friendship.

And now, he was trying so hard. Maybe it wasn’t a trick. Maybe the boy that she’d always thought he could be was finally shining through. Maybe she could give him a chance. Lily felt a touch of resolve. Maybe …

‘Potter – no, James,’ she corrected herself. He’d already taken the first step in calling her by her first name again. She could do the same. ‘Hogsmeade on Hallowe’en sounds good.’

The smile that lit up his face was beautiful to behold.

A/N: I’m sorry that this chapter was so long in coming. I know I said I’d try for a week-long interval, and I feel a bit bad to overstep that deadline! Thank you to my fabulous readers who have reviewed and asked for an update, I really appreciate it!

I’m also very sorry to inform you that the next chapter might be a longer wait, because I’m about to leave home for six weeks, and I might not get reliable internet access during that period. In the mean time, I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter!
shiiki