Eyes as Green as a Fresh Pickled Toad

Chapter Twelve

Dawn Incumbent

"Aaah!" Petunia shrieked again, and Lily blinked the intensely bright light out of her eyes and looked up, and then gave a fantastic start--which was understandable, as a large purple bus had just appeared on the sidewalk and screeched to a stop with one of its front tires uncomfortably close to Lily's head.

"Hallo," came a cheerful voice. "I say, what are you ladies doing on the--"

"Get us out of here!" Lily shrieked, scrambling to her feet and yanking Petunia up with her in a mad attempt to board the bus.

"Hold on, now, it's eight sickles for--"

"Impedimenta!" bellowed the voice of one of the Death Eaters.

"CRIKEY!" yelled the boy, and he all but shoved Lily and Petunia onto the bus and ordered the driver to get away as quickly as possible, and with a loud BANG! the bus jumped from Westhaven to someplace very far out in the country that Lily did not at all recognize.

"Here, now, let me help you to your feet," the boy offered, holding out a hand for Lily, which she accepted gratefully, and rose to her feet with a small amount of difficulty, as Petunia was partly on top of her; however, as Lily rose, she noticed her sister did not move.

"Petunia?" Lily said, crouching down next to her, and Petunia, who looked for all the world as though she'd fallen asleep, did not respond.

"Er--I think she's fainted," the boy offered, and Lily nodded.

"I think so," she agreed.

"Here...lemme help you get her on one of these beds."

At this Lily's head snapped up, and for the first time she looked thoroughly around at her surroundings. She was on a bus, all right, but it wasn't like any bus she'd ever seen; instead of two rows of crowded seats, there were instead two rows of rather comfortable looking beds, with nightstands to accompany them. As Lily and the boy lifted Petunia and set her on a bed, she saw that two of the other beds on the bus were already occupied.

"What's the matter with her?" inquired the driver.

"Fainted, sir," the boy replied. "'Course, she was being chased by Death Eaters--"

The boy's words were cut off as the driver jerked the steering wheel violently, and Lily shrieked as the bus drove off the road and nearly plowed into a tree; however, to her astonishment, the tree jumped deftly out of the bus's way, as did the next three trees the bus bypassed before the driver managed to get the vehicle back on the road.

"Don't say them sort o' things to me when I'm drivin', Ernie!" he nearly shouted to the boy.

"Sorry, there, Frank," Ernie replied. "I was meaning to say I couldn't blame her for fainting is all."

Lily happened to agree with him on this point, and sank slowly onto the edge of Petunia's bed, hands shaking as it began to sink in what exactly had just happened.

"Well, miss, I don't know what you were doing with them--them--people," the driver said, glancing in his rearview mirror at her, "but I'm glad you called for us in time."

"Me too," Lily agreed, shaking, "though I'm not exactly sure how I did."

"Stuck out your wand had, o'course," Ernie said. "Don't tell me you never heard of the Knight Bus?"

"Er...no, actually," Lily replied sheepishly. "I'm afraid not."

"Well, then!" Ernie said. "Welcome to the Knight Bus! I'm the conductor, Ernie Wallace, and this here's the driver, Frank Fondsworth. For a small fee we'll take you anywhere you need to go on land--er---speaking of the fee--"

"Oh!" Lily cried, realizing she didn't have a single Knut to her name. She never had wizarding money during the summer; she never used it, and besides there was no point risking her getting the wizarding coins mixed up with Muggle money. "I'm sorry--I don't--I don't have any money--I mean, I have money, but it's Muggle money, it's useless here--but--oh, please--oh, please don't send me back where you picked me up, I--"

"Oh, no, we wouldn't send you back there," Ernie said, shuddering. "Wouldn't want to be caught going anywhere where there are Dea--those people around."

A nasty thought occurred to Lily. "But---what if the Death Eaters--"

The bus swerved suddenly, and Lily jumped. "Sorry," she called to Frank, alarmed. "I only meant to say...what if...er...those people...decide to summon the Knight Bus themselves?"

"Nah," Ernie said, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "They wouldn't want to run the risk there'd be a Ministry official on board."

"Oh," Lily replied. "Well...what are you going to do with me then?"

"Well, we've never really 'ad this problem afore, 'ave we, Ernie?"

"Not that I can recall."

"See, we usually just 'ave the 'hole lot pay afore they got on the bus, an' we've never saved someone from D-de...D-dea...that lot...afore, so..." Frank scratched his head in thought.

"Where are you headed?" Ernie asked. "Maybe when we get there you can change your Muggle money for real money and pay us proper."

"Er..." Lily replied, thinking. She hadn't really thought of any specific place to go, except away from impending death and danger, but now that she thought about it, she supposed she would have to go somewhere, and...she couldn't very well go home, but...where could she go?

She would have to in some way obtain wizarding money wherever it was the Knight Bus took her, and after that she'd need a place to stay, but where was there that-- "Potter's cottage," she said suddenly, abruptly, surprising herself with the answer. After saying it, she thought about it, and for once something that had come out of her mouth before she'd had the chance to think about it made sense.

* * *

"Dumb bloody relatives," muttered Bellatrix, shrugging out of her long dark robes and ripping the Death Eater mask off her face, tossing it carelessly on her bed. Or rather--her and Siegfried's bed. They shared a flat in London, though not many people knew it, and it was because of this convenient little detail that Bellatrix had decided to spend the night here, away from the prying eyes of her parents and the general public.

After nights like this, Bellatrix didn't like having too much contact with other people; she usually either got the insane urge to kill them or confess her sins to them, and neither would have been good for the Dark Lord and his steadily growing entourage. She'd spoken of this with Siegfried, and he assured her she'd get used to it. He'd been a Death Eater for nearly a year and a half, and had overcome all his own little idiosyncrasies created by and associated with the job; he expected that Bellatrix would do much the same.

Bellatrix's family, however, was a problem tonight only because the unexpected visit of Andromeda, and Bellatrix's extended stay with the Blacks. She had even tagged along with Sirius to his little friend's house, in a futile attempt to make nice with the Potters. She hadn't gotten very far, however, and in all truth had been lost wandering the house for most of the visit (thanks to Sirius and his very obvious plan to ditch her the moment the adults were out of sight). As such, Bellatrix had returned home late and had nearly missed the meeting tonight. She was glad she hadn't; this summer was crucial in her time as a rookie, and more experiences like tonight were just what she needed to become as seasoned as Siegfried.

Bellatrix sighed and stripped off her clothes, stepping into the empty and dry bath and turning on the tap. She sat in the tub, fiddling with a sponge and replaying the night's disturbing events in her head as warm water pooled around her. There had been screaming, so much screaming--a little girl, a little boy--both screaming bloody murder, and at the same time, crying out for mercy. Ironic, though, wasn't it, the phrase "bloody murder"--at least when applied to these two, it was; in their case, there wasn't a drop of blood involved.

Avada Kedavra was efficient, immediate, clean, and painless--at least, Bellatrix assumed it was painless; she, of course, had never experienced the spell, but she assumed, considering the speed at which it worked, that its recipients felt nothing except shock until they found themselves floating up to heaven--or perhaps drifting downward; one never knew with Muggles.

For they had all been Muggles; all the victims were Muggles. The Dark Lord insisted upon this. No point in scaring the wizarding community more than necessary. As long as the Death Eaters' victims were solely Muggle, wizards were more likely to feel safe from attack, and therefore less likely to insist some kind of immediate action from the Ministry. The wizarding world would still be indignant and outraged, of course, and the Mudbloods in the community would have to be spoken for--there had been more than one house hit so far this summer that had housed a young wizard or two--but Ministry action would be delayed as of yet, waiting until they could figure what kind of a force they were up against.

This, of course, played even more in the Dark Lord's hands--the longer the Ministry stalled, and the longer they insisted there was no threat (or, indeed, that they were already handling the threat--covering up was more like it), the more time Voldemort had to gather followers, make allegiances, and induce magical creatures to join his army. The number of Death Eaters was growing steadily and strongly, with a few more every week. Occasionally the numbers would surge, especially after a large attack, like the one they'd made this spring on a Muggle village. They'd wiped out all of its inhabitants--except one, it seemed, a little Mudblood witch who apparently went to Hogwarts.

Hogwarts is too soft, Bellatrix thought scornfully. They're letting in anyone these days. Honestly, ever since that Dumbledore character became Headmaster the whole institution's gone to pot.

Bellatrix had been offered a spot as a student at Hogwarts, but turned it down in favor of Durmstrang. All her family had gone to Hogwarts, and been in Slytherin, naturally, but in light of the new, hideous administration they'd decided against Bellatrix having anything to do with the place. And besides, Durmstrang was much looser with their rules about Dark Magic, and even encouraged a little experimentation with it in certain classes--potion-making, Transfiguration, and the like. They did in-depth, intensive studies on hexes, curses, and deeply evil ancient magical objects and the spells that had created them. Nothing at all like the pansy-assed curriculum of Defense Against the Dark Arts Sirius had described at Hogwarts. Bellatrix laughed at the mere thought of any one of those students coming up against a real, live Death Eater.

Defense against the dark arts indeed, Bellatrix thought sneeringly. Defense against what dark arts? Cornish pixies? She snorted to herself. Pathetic. And they don't even have a dueling club at that school. Doubly pathetic.

Bellatrix often had these little mental rants about the inferiority of Hogwarts to Durmstrang. Never mind that Hogwarts had always been advertised as the best wizarding school in Europe; Bellatrix knew perfectly well that all the Beauxbatons students took extreme offense at this, and that most Durmstrang students considered themselves well above any lowly Hogwarts student they could hope to meet.

Bellatrix, unfortunately, had been raised with a glorified image of Hogwarts stamped in her mind, and had often looked forward to long nights in the Slytherin common room with her best mates, smirking over their latest pint of smuggled butterbeer, or perhaps even the good stuff--firewhisky--talking 'til the crack of dawn about evil plots to overthrow the Gryffindors and win the House and Quidditch Cups all in one year.

However, these images had long faded and the fantasy was gone; Bellatrix had served her seven years at Durmstrang instead, and had plenty of good mates. Never mind that butterbeer wasn't to be found near the castle and firewhisky happened to be as common as pumpkin juice. She had enjoyed her seven years, and now she had Siegfried, and a position as Death Eater, and a fabulous flat in London, and no reason to complain.

* * *

Lily brushed her teeth, having obtained a toothbrush from Ernie, whom, Lily suspected, in addition to trusting her to cough up the money once they arrived at Potter's Cottage, was taking a deal of pity on her. The Knight Bus rambled on, dropping off passenger after passenger until Lily and the sleeping Petunia were nearly the only ones left.

Lily avoided thinking at all about what she had just seen, or anything that had just happened, and focused instead on staying composed until she reached James's house. Ernie was an amiable enough companion, and proved quite successful in distracting her from her thoughts with a bit of rather mindless chatter.

"So, first time you've been on the Knight Bus then?"

"Yes. My sister as well, in fact, though I don't know what she'll think when she wakes up--she'll probably be utterly shocked at first and then once's she's gotten over the shock, she'll be utterly mad at me."

"I don't see why she'd be too mad at you; you did save her from those--er--you did save her, after all," Ernie said, amending his speech in consideration of the driver.

"Yes, well, she's never been too fond of anything magical," Lily said bitterly, crossing her arms.

"You mean--you mean your sister's a Muggle then?" Ernie asked eagerly, and Lily nodded. "Hear that, Frank? We got a Muggle on board!"

"I heard well enough," Frank replied, sounding rather grouchy. "I never took a liking to Muggles myself. It'll be a strange night indeed, what with unpaid fare and a Muggle on board."

"Aw, come off it, Frank," Ernie said, waving away Frank's grumbling. "Don't mind him, he's just a bit touchy about rules and all that. Not s'posed to let people on board with unpaid fares. Not s'posed to let Muggles on board either, mind you, but none of them have ever come close to even noticing the Knight Bus, so there isn't too much of a worry there."

"No, I suppose not," Lily agreed.

"But I figure in times like these you've got to bend the rules a bit, otherwise a lot of people are going to end up in right sticky messes, and you won't be able to help anybody, and that's what we're here for, isn't it? So there you have it. I'm glad we got to you in time," Ernie said, sounding satisfied. Lily managed a weak smile and sat down on the bed next to Petunia's.

"Me too," she said. "I'm going to sleep. Wake me when we get there."

"All right, miss," Ernie agreed. "You just sleep then."

Lily crawled under the covers and laid her head down, and listened to the humming and occasional BANG!-ing of the bus, and the light snoring of her sister in the bed next to her, but she kept her eyes wide open, and she could not sleep.

* * *

Lily felt a light tapping on her shoulder.

"...here, miss," came the gentle voice of the conductor. "We're here."

Lily blinked and frowned, looking up at Ernie and feeling confused. She hadn't thought she'd be able to fall asleep, not with all the thoughts she'd been trying to block out of her mind, but after the bus had BANG!-ed into Bristol a light rain started tapping against the windows, and the soothing sound of it must have lulled Lily into a shallow sleep. Petunia was awake and sitting up and alert and, Lily noted, looking rather alarmed.

"Lily," Petunia whispered, looking worriedly around the inside of the bus, "where the dickens are we?"

"We're on a bus," Lily replied simply. "A magical one. And we've reached our destination, so let's get off then, shall we?"

Petunia squinted, trying to see out the large tinted black windows on the bus, but to no avail.

"Off you get, then," Ernie said, ushering them to the door. "Hope you had a pleasant stay on the Knight Bus. And remember--don't hesitate to call on us if you're ever in need."

Lily turned around after climbing off the bus and faced Ernie. "Just wait here, it'll just be a moment before I can get some money--"

"Nah," Ernie said, waving his hand dismissively. "You've been through enough for one night; I think we can cover you."

"But--" Lily began, protesting, but her speech was cut off by a loud BANG! and then the bus was no more.

"I know where we are," Petunia whispered, staring up at the mansion that was so inaptly dubbed Potter's Cottage. Lily walked to the front door and knocked on it with a large, gold doorknocker, expecting Petunia to say more, but, surprisingly, her sister remained silent.

As Lily waited on the doorstep, all the emotions, thoughts, and images she'd managed to suppress while on the Knight Bus slowly began trickling into her brain. At first, with the realization of what she'd actually just witnessed, she didn't feel anything at all--just numb. The numbness lasted long enough for a house-elf to answer the door, invite them in, and scurry off in a wild hurry to get James, at Lily's request.

A horde of house-elves soon surrounded Lily and Petunia, offering them hot tea, cookies, crackers, and even a bit of cheesecake, all of which Lily refused, and requested that the house-elves take away, as she felt that if she had to look at any kind of food for more than a moment, she would become violently ill. She already felt ill enough without plates of food being presented to her; a cookie was the last thing she needed.

The house-elves scurried off apologetically, and Lily shot a glance over at Petunia, who had her arms wrapped around herself and was shuddering rather violently. A house-elf scurried over and offered her a blanket, which she refused, and she turned away from Lily to hide the sparkling tears that had begun to trickle down her face.

This sight was almost too much for Lily, and she turned abruptly away from her sister to stop her own tears from flowing. She wanted to at least be able to tell James what had happened....although now that she had actual time to think about it, how in the world was she going to voice what had just happened without completely losing her composure?

Tears began to well up in her eyes of their own accord, and she suppressed them as best she could, knowing that if she paid any sort of attention to the enormous pain building inside her chest or the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, she would quickly grow hysterical, and be positively a useless gibbering mess for the next several hours.

The sound of footsteps pounded across the floor above her, and Lily gulped and wiped hastily at her eyes as the first few tears began to overflow. The footsteps bounded down the stairs and then quickly approached the front hall, and then the next second all Lily saw was James rounding the corner and rushing to her side, concern etched deeply into his face.

"Lily--" he began, and reached out a hand for her. It was at this point that Lily could bear suppressing her grief no longer, and all the pain and anguish that had been building inside her for the last several hours exploded into sobs, and she fell against James rather unceremoniously. James, who was quite taken aback by all this, steadied her, and wrapped his arms around her, then looked at Petunia helplessly for some kind of information.

Petunia just looked at him with tears shining in her eyes, shook her head, and burst out bitterly, "Can I just go to bed now?"

James, who had a growing feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, nodded at the house-elves, who took the liberty of escorting Lily's sister to one of the guest rooms (where she fell promptly into hysterical tears herself).

Lily, meanwhile, her face contorted in grief and pain, had latched her arms as tightly around James as they would go, and continued sobbing. James decided that speaking would be utterly useless at this point, so he simply held her against him and tried to be as soothing as possible, although really there was not much he could do.

"Hold---me---tighter!" Lily commanded in between sobs, which startled James, but he complied, and Lily buried her face in his chest further. She was still sobbing, but it had lessened somewhat--just enough so she could barely speak between sobs, if she really wanted to. "D-don't let g-go, James! P-p-lease, d-don't let m--m--me go."

"I won't, Lily. I promise," he whispered, rocking Lily gently from side to side. She sobbed and shuddered and tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. "Shh," James said as soothingly as he could. "It's okay. You don't have to talk right now. It's okay." Lily buried her face as deep into James's shirt as it would go and sobbed for another several minutes, still shuddering like mad, her knees quaking and threatening to buckle.

James quickly scooped her up into his arms and carried her still-sobbing form out of the front hall and into the main living room. He set her down gently on the couch and sat next to her, where she promptly latched onto him again and continued crying. He rubbed her back gently, and stroked her hair, and made several other soothing gestures, but began to feel rather silly, as none of this seemed to have any effect whatsoever on the hysterical Lily. She didn't protest, however, so he continued, hoping to bring her what small amount of comfort he could.

After a few more minutes of sobbing, James heard soft footsteps on the stairs, and looked up to see his mother coming down, tied in a large blue bathrobe and looking extremely tired.

"Mom, it's okay," James whispered. "You can go back to bed."

Mrs. Potter frowned. "It most certainly is not okay, not with the poor girl carrying on like that. What happened?"

James shook his head. "I have no idea. But I'm starting to think I don't want to know, if it's this bad."

Mrs. Potter shot a look of sympathy in Lily's direction, even though Lily was not looking. "The poor dear. I wonder if maybe she'd like some hot tea?"

James shook his head. "It's kind of hard to tell...but I doubt it."

Mrs. Potter sighed. "Perhaps you're right. But I think I'm going to go busy myself with making some anyway. I'm awake now, and worried, and I need something to do. Would you let me know when she's well enough to talk?"

James nodded, and Mrs. Potter disappeared into the kitchens.

Lily did not compose herself for quite a long time; Mrs. Potter made two pots of tea before the crying succumbed, and Lily hiccupped herself away from James's chest slowly. House-elves immediately supplied her with tissues, which she accepted gratefully. James's shirt was now wet with tears, but he didn't particularly care about that. He cared about Lily. After blowing her nose thoroughly, Lily gave a weak sob, collapsed against James's shoulder rather limply and cried gently for a few minutes. The house-elves ran and got Mrs. Potter, and by the time she arrived with tea, Lily had nearly composed herself again, although her face was red and blotchy and her eyes were very puffy, and still shining with unreleased tears.

"Here, my dear," Mrs. Potter said kindly. "Have a cup of tea."

Lily shook her head with a pitiful look on her face and leaned against James. After a moment, James craned his neck to look down at her, and the expression on Lily's face had changed, and now she did not look pitiful so much as she simply looked...lost. Unsure. Uncertain.

"Lily," James whispered, Lily looked up at him, a dazed, forlorn sort of expression on her face. James racked his brain for a moment, trying to think of how exactly he was going to phrase the question. He couldn't very well ask her if she was alright, as she most certainly was not, and it didn't seem very fitting to ask if she was going to be alright, as that didn't seem very likely either. James sighed, and, stalling for time, brought his hand to her cheek and wiped away her tears gently. Quite unexpectedly, Lily grabbed his hand and held it in both of hers, and simply stared at it. He looked at her, feeling very confused, and waited.

"Do you see this hand?" Lily asked after a while. "It's solid. It's warm. It's real. I can touch it, and I can hold it." James just looked at her, studying her face as she spoke. She simply stared at his hand, her face expressionless. "Imagine if you were holding a hand, James, and you let it go, just for a minute, and then when you turned back to grab it again, it was gone. Imagine if all that was real and solid and warm to you just suddenly disappeared. Imagine if you could never, ever hold that hand again." She looked up at him, eyes pooling again with tears. "What if you lost four hands in one night, James? What if those hands belonged to your family? What would you do?" At this point she burst into tears again, and fell against James's shoulder.

James, with horror, began to piece together what she'd said. Grotesque images flashed through his mind as he imagined dozens of scenarios in which Lily's family was removed from her, and his arms tightened around her reflexively.

"I'm so sorry, Lily," he said, with as much feeling as he could, but he felt stupid saying it, as there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He didn't even notice his mother, who was looking at Lily with shock and horror and sympathy, burst into tears of her own. They weren't nearly as loud as Lily's, nor as anguished, but they were heartfelt, and through them, she gasped, "I'll--go--tea--" and ran into the kitchen.

Lily, after having spoken all she felt that it was necessary to speak, simply cried. She cried for what seemed like to James forever, but if the length of her sobs was agonizing, it was nothing compared to the potency with which she dispeled them. James had never heard anybody cry like this before; like their entire world had just been ripped out from

underneath them; like everything dear to them had sudeenly been taken away, and they were drowning in despair. Lily did not try to reserve a single tear, and sobbed as loudly as she wanted, to the point where it made James want to cry, too.

James normally did not cry, and when he did cry it was in private, and very quietly, so no one knew about it. But...there was something too tragic about having someone he cared so much about lose everything they held dear, and he could not hold his sympathetic sorrow in, and tears slipped slowly and silently from his eyes.

Lily and James held their pose on the couch into the early hours of the morning, until Lily was exhausted from crying and anguish, and James could not keep his eyes open any longer, and they both fell asleep. Lily curled tightly against James in a desperate attempt to find comfort, and tears dried silently on both their cheeks.

* * *

The morning was properly rainy and overcast, so Lily and James did not immediately wake when the sun rose behind the clouds. They lay sleeping for many hours past sunrise, in the gloomy gray haze of rainfall, looking (despite what terrors might have been haunting their dreams) very peaceful.

Mrs. Potter had found them lying entwined like this at about half-past-one much earlier that morning, and, after having got over the initial shock of seeing her teenage son sleeping with his arms wrapped around a teenage girl, felt a swell of sympathy for Lily, and decided it best not to disturb them. Instead she covered them both with a warm blanket and left them to sleep for the night.

James's father, however, did not have such a calm reaction to finding Lily and James curled up on the couch. For one, when he spotted them he had just come home from putting in long hours at the Ministry, and he was very grumpy and tired. For another, the angle at which he first saw them was an odd one, because the blanket tucked around their sleeping forms covered everything except for two legs; one of James's, one of Lily's, both of which appeared (by some accident of socks being pulled off or pants being hiked up during the night) completely bare.

The Minister of Magic, upon seeing his teenage son sleeping on the couch with a bare-legged girl, gave a fierce shout--an action to which there were various reactions. Several house-elves came scurrying in to see what was the matter; James's eyes flew open in alarm; Lily awoke with a start, and she shrieked very loudly and sat up, causing the blanket to fall away and revealing to Mr. Potter (with much relief on his part) that she and James were, in fact, fully clothed. This did not, however, completely dispel the Minister's shock, and he bellowed at his son, "JAMES CHRISTOPHER POTTER! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"

James looked as though he was unsure how to answer. Lily glanced back and forth between James and his father very quickly before deciding to speak.

"It's my fault," she announced suddenly, automatically, and Mr. Potter fixed her with a look of incredulity. "I--I came here last night, and--I was--my family..." Lily trailed off, the look on her face suggesting to James that she was just now remembering the events of the previous night. She hadn't actually said it straight out yet, and didn't know if she could handle it. A lump rose in her throat at the thought. "I--I'm sorry," she finished lamely, her voice much less stable.

James covered her hand with his, looking at his father. "Last night..." he said, finding it hard to pick the right words for this. "You know...there was an attack...." He tried to avoid saying it so he wouldn't upset Lily, but he glanced at her and felt a pang of despair; two steady streams of hot tears were already running down her cheeks, although this morning Lily's sorrow was silent.

The Minister's face changed completely. It was first white, then red, then white again, and then somewhere between red and white and etched with sorrow and regret.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "On behalf of the Ministry. On behalf of myself. I'm sorry."

Lily didn't speak, just nodded weakly, and when the Minister had gone, buried her face in James's shoulder.

* * *

The hours were agony. Lily hated being alone. She was torn between trying to block everything out of her mind entirely and dwelling on it until there was nothing left to dwell on. The emptiness of losing her family consumed her completely. She couldn't take a step down a hallway, take a bite of food, or even take a nap with thoughts of her family flooding her brain and spilling out of her body in the form of tears. Sometimes the tears didn't even help; crying, after all, couldn't bring them back.

James was with her constantly, always trying to soothe her, always holding her, or comforting her, and in a small distant part of Lily's heart she was very aware that this meant the world to her, but she felt as though there was this whole hollow place inside of herself that James could not fill, that he couldn't even begin to touch, and because of this all the comforting in the world could not appease her sadness.

Petunia never once left the spare bedroom in which she'd been put by the house elves that first night. The house elves brought her food, but she did not eat. She refused to speak to anyone, and as of yet, Lily did not feel she was in any state to try to communicate with her sister.

Lily was not eating very much, either. Everything she ate either made her throw up or want to throw up, so she steered clear of most foods. Just about everything she ate reminded her of her parents, which didn't help any, so Mrs. Potter ordered the house elves to start inventing dishes, in a desperate but vain attempt to pique Lily's and Petunia's appetites.

After that first day, the Minister was out of the house far more than he was in, and even when he was at Potter's Cottage, he did not sleep; he worked. If he did sleep, Lily didn't know when.

During her second day, the Minister came back to the Cottage after spending several hours at work and brought two wizards with him. He took Lily into a room and introduced her to the wizards, who, it turned out, were Aurors, and their names were Sullivan and Knox. Sullivan, Knox, and the Minister of Magic asked her questions about the night her parents died until she was crying again. Knox gave her a handkerchief and a pat on the head as they left, and Sullivan conjured her a little flower, but it didn't help any. They hadn't meant to make her cry, of course, but it had happened anyway.

The third night at Potter's Cottage, Lily decided she'd better try to sleep on a real bed, as both she and James were getting odd cricks in their backs from sleeping on the couch, and Mrs. Potter was getting to be less understanding about it. They gave her the same spare bedroom she usually slept in, but the second she walked in to go to sleep, she felt suffocated.

Even here, where there were so few memories of her parents, Lily was overwhelmed by thoughts of them--of her first stay at Potter's Cottage--of Christmas here--of Dean here--

Lily choked on her sobs and turned and fled from the room. She flew down the hallway and through the house blindly, until she was as far away from the bedroom as she needed to be, and then curled up against the wall and cried.

It wasn't long before she heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and someone sat down beside her. Lily looked up, and through a sheen of tears saw James's blurry form. His hair was even messier than usual, and after swiping her hand across her eyes Lily could clearly

see that there were massive circles under his eyes.

"Go b-back to b-b-bed," Lily said, not wanting to deprive him of any more sleep.

"No," James argued firmly, instantly. "Not while you're here like this."

"You n-need s--s--slee--eep," Lily choked.

"I wasn't asleep. And I won't be able to get to sleep if I leave now. Come here," James said, and Lily did not feel she was in any state to argue. He pulled her against his chest and she cried until her sobs wore themselves out.

Lily's stomach and chest and throat were beginning to ache. She'd been crying too much and too often. Her eyes were swollen and irritated, although quite proficient now at producing tears. She hadn't seen a mirror in days, but if she looked half as bad as she felt, Lily expected she had much of the general appearance of a troll.

Her body was beginning to wear itself out. Lily felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally--but mostly the latter. James was also exhausted, but refused to admit this to Lily, as he felt that he should be strong as long as Lily was still a mess.

That night was the last that Lily spilled her tears in James's arms. For inexplicable reasons, after that point things with Lily began to change. Gears began to turn in her mind, and she was flooded and overwhelmed with thoughts. Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts--too many thoughts. So many thoughts that Lily could not stand to be around other people with them, and she had the house-elves locate a spare bedroom for her that she had never seen before, and she locked herself in and thought.

* * *

It may have been a bad idea to leave Lily Evans alone with her thoughts. Her thoughts were erratic, and rash, and often odd and twisted. Some were full of rage and hatred and revenge. Some were full of regret and sorrow and death and suicide. Others were of loss and aching and curling up and waiting to die. Others were of joy and hope and survival.

But most of them were Escape.

She needed, desperately, to escape from her life. To escape from herself. To escape from the memories that burdened her and broke her. To escape from the people who encouraged her to relive those memories and grieve, because grieving was considered healthy. She needed to escape from the reason all this had happened in the first place.

Consciously, Lily made it a point to blame Voldemort and his Death Eaters for the deaths of her mother and father, brother and sister. Unconsciously, Lily blamed herself. If...only if...if she had never gotten that Hogwarts letter...if she had never shown signs of magic...oh, what if....what if, what if, what if?

No one else had mentioned this, of course, but Lily felt that they were thinking it. Of course it was Lily's fault. What other reason would a dark wizard have for attacking a house full of innocent Muggles? Why Lily's house, out of all the others on the street? There had to be some kind of rhyme and reason behind it.

So Lily blamed herself. And then she decided to escape from it. She needed out, and badly.

So she took some Floo powder from the jar on the mantelpiece, threw it into the fire she'd conjured, and stepped calmly into the flames.

* * *

Sirius Black was in a state of shock. Not that there'd been another attack, nor that it had been on a bunch of Muggles, nor that he'd met this bunch of Muggles, nor even that this bunch of Muggles had been directly related to Lily Evans. What Sirius was really shocked about was the fact that he'd had to read about the attack in the Daily Prophet.

His best friend was the son of the Minister of Magic, for Merlin's sake! What good was that if he didn't at least get the news in advance? Sirius couldn't imagine James being unaware of this occurrence. Furthermore, Sirius was willing to bet his motorcycle (...helmet) that Lily had somehow found her way to Potter's Cottage. And whoever else had survived. The Prophet hadn't been too specific about who had died and who had managed to escape. Lily, obviously, had survived, as there was no account of a witch dying--and, although Sirius couldn't specifically remember, he thought Lily had at least one more sibling than was accounted for in the paper.

Sirius, therefore, decided to march directly over to Potter's Cottage and sort all this out. (And by march, Sirius really meant "fly large noisy irritating motorcycle way too close to the ground over many Muggle villages and hope the Invisibility Booster decided to work ".)

Whatever the case, Sirius made his way to Potter's Cottage, landed on the balcony outside James's room, and stormed about the mansion until he ran into James and demanded to know what had become of Lily and why he had not been previously informed of the attack.

James ignored all of Sirius's questions, in light of a bigger crisis. "Lily's gone," James said, and it occurred just then to Sirius how very pale his best friend was looking.

"What?" Sirius demanded.

"Yeah. She...we don't know where she went. One minute she was locked in a bedroom, and then...now...she just disappeared."

Sirius paled also. "Well shit, then," he said. "That's not good."

"No," James agreed, "it's not."

* * *

Lily had not been thinking ahead. It had not occurred to her to bring extra Floo powder, and she had been forced to indefinitely borrow some from a large jarful sitting next to the first fireplace she'd come out of. She shoved as much as she could into the pockets of her robes, then transported herself to Diagon Alley, where she got money out of her Gringotts account and then purchased a tiny sack to tie around her waist and keep the Floo powder in.

She then passed through the Leaky Cauldron and across the gateway to the Muggle world.

Lily figured this was the easiest way to avoid Ministry officials. She did not expect they'd think to search for her in the heart of Muggle London. She also did not expect they'd find her if she moved constantly from place to place.

Lily found another wizarding pub in London, changed her Galleons in for pounds, and threw a dash of Floo powder into the fireplace, commanding it to take her to an obscure wand shop she knew lay outside Westhaven, and walked five miles into town. She ditched the robes along the way, and felt silly when she realized she was still wearing her work clothes from almost five days ago, but there was nothing she could do about it.

She had not quite planned to visit her house, but somehow could not resist the urge. It was no longer crawling with Ministry officials--they had cleared out days ago--nor was it crawling with Muggle police. There were no yellow pieces of tape labeled "Do Not Cross" strung around her house. Yet Lily felt the intense need to keep her distance from the place. It did not feel quite right to her.

She sadly took in the sight of her childhood home, and looked forlornly at the FOR SALE sign in the front yard. Lily did not suppose anyone would want to buy it, now that people had been killed in it. She certainly did not want to live there any more.

It still brought tears to her eyes to see her house, but she brushed them hastily aside and walked briskly away.

An obscure thought flashed across Lily's mind as she walke down the street.

She was supposed to work today.

She was supposed to work yesterday, too.

She wondered, briefly, what would happen if she just walked right into work and began fighting with the coffee machine as though she had not randomly disappered for several days. She picked a bad time to briefly wonder that thought, because as she rounded the corner the afternoon bus pulled up, and she got on it. The bus driver did not seem surprised to see her, but rather nodded at her routinely and continued driving.

The bus was nearly empty, and Lily did not see anyone she recognized, but still felt odd, as she didn't know what the Muggle world had been told about her family's deaths. Either Lily had been taken for dead by the Muggles or they thought she'd gone into hiding. But nobody said anything to her on the bus ride, or when she got off, or when she walked down the street and waltzed into work as though she'd never left.

And the only thing anyone said to her even then was when her boss, Ian, fixed a furious gaze on her, and said, "Where the hell have you been?"

* * *

All had not gone according to plan. Bellatrix realized this the moment Siegfried burst in the door of his flat and surprised Bellatrix, who was practicing a bit of hexing on the furniture.

"Stop that," Siegfried snapped, and Bellatrix, mildly surprised, removed her spells from the couch and coffee table and walked over to see what was the matter. Siegfried opted not to speak for several moments. Instead, he stalked to a cabinet and searched wildly for a moment before grabbing a large bottle of firewhisky and practically breaking the neck of it trying to open it. He drank directly from the bottle, long and hard, before turning his face on Bellatrix.

Bellatrix did not like the look on his face. She grabbed the firewhisky from him and took a big swig of it herself. It was potent stuff, and burned the whole way down. It was the kind of stuff that made you choke the first time you tried it. Hell, it made you choke the second time you tried it, too, and then the third, and fourth, and fifth. It took a long time to get used to this particular brand of firewhisky, but both Bellatrix and Siegfried had built up their tolerance for it long ago. And it was damn good for trying to forget your troubles.

Bellatrix took another swig of it. From the look on Siegfried's face, they were about to have a lot of troubles.

"The Dark Lord," said Siegfried, finally, and nervously Bellatrix had another go at the whisky, "is not pleased."

"With what?" Bellatrix asked as Siegfried took the whisky back.

"The last mission," Siegfried replied, downing some more of the bottle.

Bellatrix was distressed. How could they have failed the last mission? They'd killed everyone in the house, made front page of the Daily Prophet, disrupted wizarding life. She voiced this to Siegfried, who laughed bitterly and opted for more firewhisky.

"According to the Dark Lord," he informed her, his speech beginning to sound just slightly slurred, "it did not make Muggle headlines. And therefore mass panic and hysteria is not expected. In fact it did not even make Muggle papers, let alone headlines. The obituaries haven't even printed yet. The Muggles have no clue anything is wrong at all."

Bellatrix's head was spinning. Something about that logic didn't make sense, but then the Dark Lord's thinking was often far above her own, and she'd just had a bit of firewhisky, so her judgment was a bit cloudy.

"We also made the mistake of choosing a Mudblood's household."

"Oh hell," Bellatrix said, with feeling.

"What's interesting," Siegfried said, laughing and taking another drink, "is that we didn't even kill the damn girl. She's still wandering around out there without a family."

"Bloody hell," Bellatrix agreed. "We are in trouble."

"Oh no," Siegfried said, in a voice that made Bellatrix's heart stop for a moment. "That's not even the worst of it."

"What's the worst of it?" Bellatrix demanded, finding it hard to imagine a worse scenario.

"The witch isn't the only one wandering around out there without a family. We didn't kill everyone who belongs to that household."

Bellatrix laughed mirthlessly, feeling ill. That meant the mission was a failure.

The Dark Lord did not believe in failures.

* * *

Lily looked at Ian for a moment, blinked, and then strode over to the evil coffee machine and banged on it, sending it grinding into motion. Ian did not consider this an acceptable answer.

"Lily! You cannot simply come and go here as you please. If you're not even going to call then I'm afraid--"

"Lily!" shouted another voice, and Ian and Lily both jumped. Lily looked up from the evil coffee machine to see Ethan in the kitchen doorway holding a box of creamer. "Where have you been?"

"We were just going through that," Ian informed him, shooting him a glare.

Lily looked back and forth between them, immensely confused, then turned back to the coffee machine and whacked it again, for no reason. She hadn't been gone long enough, obviously, for them to worry, as she had only missed one day of work, but at the same time, they were acting as if they had no idea that she...that her...

Lily looked up from the coffee machine again and frowned at them in open confusion.

"What in the world is that look supposed to mean?" Ian demanded, still irritated.

"Don't...don't either of you read the paper?" Lily managed, incredulous.

"Of course I read the paper!" Ian snapped. "What's that got to do with it?"

"But--but--didn't you--wouldn't you have--the attack--you should have--" Lily stammered, cogs spinning wildly in her mind.

"What attack? What in the world are you on about? Lily, I don't have time for this kind of nonsense."

Lily ignored him and stared blankly into space. "But that doesn't make any sense," she whispered. "Why wouldn't the papers have..."

Ian looked positively fed up now. "Lily, I don't need your excuses. If it happens again, you're fired," he informed her, before turning and stalking into the kitchen.

Ethan, however, was looking at her curiously. "Lily," he said softly, "what are you talking about?"

Lily's eyes came back into focus and her gaze settled on Ethan. For a moment, she thought something passed between them--a hint of understanding, maybe, on a subject Ethan could not possibly know about--but then the feeling faded, and Lily just shook her head. "It's nothing," she replied.

The bell attached to the door rang as a customer entered.

"I'll get this," Lily said, leaving the evil coffee machine to its own devices. "You finish restocking." She brushed past Ethan without looking him in the eye and smiled at the customer behind the register.

Ethan stared at her for a moment before placing the box of creamer on a shelf and walking back into the kitchen, muttering to himself.

* * *

Melody discovered dancing. It happened her third week in New York. She'd been at a party with her uncle and Catalina, and her uncle had introduced her to a bunch of boring new American businesswizards. She'd been forced to sit at a table with them and nearly fell asleep as they discussed stocks and money, and excused herself to go to the bathroom at least five times during the first course. The waiter who'd been serving their table noticed this, and laughed at her as she passed by him on her fifth trip to the rest room.

"Having fun?" he asked, his eyes still dancing with laughter. Melody whirled around to face him.

"So much fun you wouldn't believe," she replied sarcastically, "although I don't know what you think you're going to do about it."

The waiter laughed again."I know places that you wouldn't believe," he replied. He spoke with an accent. He was Italian, with dark hair and dark eyes and a hint of a dark mustache, though only a thin one, as he wasn't that much older than Melody.

"Well if you can get me to one of those places," Melody had replied, "I'd do almost anything."

He smiled at her. "It might raise hell with your uncle."

She considered, then shrugged. "I'm feeling reckless tonight. I deserve a little fun."

"Well, you'll have to suffer through the rest of dinner. But leave when the sorbet does."

Melody left as the sorbet dishes were cleared from the table, not paying attention to the excuse she gave the gentlemen for her leave. She met the waiter by the door to the kitchens. He'd discarded his uniform and looked better for it. She let him take her hand and lead her out the back door into a dark alleyway where his motorcycle was parked. Melody couldn't help it; she laughed and shook her head.

"Does my motorcycle amuse you so much?" the waiter asked, amused himself.

"What is it with me and guys with motorcycles?" Melody asked, to nobody. He smiled at her.

"If you ask me, none of those men looked like they owned motorcycles."

"Well, it's not them...it's this boy back home...." Melody sighed, thinking of Sirius, and of how much of a relationship she was not having with him.

"Forget him," the waiter advised. "Forget all of them. Tonight you are with me, and I will show you some real fun."

Melody sighed. "That's exactly what I need," she agreed. "My name is--"

"No," he said, "let's not share names. Then we get too attached. And you are not looking to be attached."

Melody gave him a half-smile. "For someone who doesn't want to get attached, you sure seem to have me figured out already."

"It is easy to spot people who are like yourself. You are like me. Get on."

Melody didn't hesitate or make a fuss, simply lifted her skirts up and swung one leg over the motorcycle, settling herself behind the waiter.

"Are you ready for a good time?" he asked, revving the engine.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Melody replied, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Give me all you've got."

He took her dancing. There weren't quite words to describe how Melody felt about dancing. She'd been dancing all summer, of course, but...not like this. This was the kind of dancing that involved hips and arms and legs and full body contact and sweating, not the watered-down, pre-planned ballroom dancing she'd grown accustomed to. This dancing was all about the music and how the music made you move, and it was absolutely intoxicating. Melody was addicted.

If anyone at any of her uncle's parties had tried dancing like that, it would have been a scandal. But here, in this club, it was just they way dancing was. Melody loved that.

She felt herself slipping away from the girl her uncle had tried to create and back into the girl she had been. Except now, this time around, Melody was a little different. She was still confident and beautiful (those were two things she'd almost always been, although the confidence wavered sometimes where Sirius was involved), but she wasn't so silly.

Her goals shifted more sharply into focus, and with each newspaper article she read detailing another Voldemort attack, the goals inched closer to being in her reach. She realized, now more than ever, that she had to draw lines between who she really was and who she had to be to seek her revenge, and the real her only erupted when she was out dancing. The rest of the time she kept herself carefully tucked away and continued to flirt and gossip with high society, letting them see only the fabricated, phony version of herself.

The waiter saw her for who she was. Even better, he saw her through eyes that understood how she felt. One night while they were dancing Melody's mind drifted to her father, and the waiter immediately could tell the difference in her dancing. He'd made her stop dancing and took her to a pier, where she stopped to take her sandals off and stretch out her feet before he made her explain the story of her dad. When she was finished he immediately nodded his head and told her his own story.

"I know how you feel," he agreed. "When I was young--eight or nine or so--when we lived in Italy, my father was killed. My mama, she picks up and moves here to get away from it, to try and make life better for my family. And I swore that someday I would go back to Italy to avenge my father's death. I haven't been to Italy yet, but I am saving. And I will keep my promise."

Melody nodded. "I believe you," she said, fiddling with her sandal strap. "Only...do you know who did it?"

"Some wizard," he replied bitterly. "Some dumb wizard with talk of power and glory who couldn't get my father to join his...cult. Somebody named Lestrange."

Melody let out a long breath at this. So she and the waiter weren't after the same man, but they could very well be after the same organization. Melody knew Lestranges, several of them, and they were all rather sinister in character. She'd believe that any one of them would kill a man for almost no reason.

"I know the Lestranges," she said, and the waiter fixed a piercing gaze on her. "There are several of them. I don't know which one you want."

"Mama described him to me enough times. When I see him, I will know."

Melody nodded, not wanting to point out that all of the Lestranges looked pretty much the same. "I will help you find him," she promised. "But when you have enough money, don't go to Italy. Go to England. That is where he--and I--will be."

He nodded and set his determined gaze on the ocean. Melody knew how he felt right then--knew how the want for revenge was driving him mad--and how intoxicating it was to get closer, even if just by an inch, to what you wanted.

At some point during the summer she discovered his name was Paolo, and he that hers was Melody. Paolo loved her name and said it often.

"Melody," he said. "It rolls off the tongue. I love 'L's."

"What happened to not getting attached?" she asked him. He just shrugged and smiled.

"Too late now."

One night at the pier, he told her, "If I ever have a daughter I want her to be named Liliana. It rolls off the tongue, no?"

Melody smiled. "It does. My best friend back home is named Lily, but I suppose that doesn't 'roll off the tongue' quite as well as 'Liliana'."

Paolo shook his head. "Not quite. But it is still very pretty."

"Is it as pretty as my name?" Melody teased him. She found it funny that Paolo liked her name so much; it wasn't a bad name, of course, but it wasn't really all that beautiful.

"Oh, no," Paolo said, "not as pretty as you."

Melody blinked at him. Had he meant to say that, or had he meant to say "yours" instead? His English was good, and he didn't make mistakes like that unless he was trying to be funny. This time, however, he did not sound like he was joking. Melody's cheeks flushed pink and she stared out at the water instead of his face. His eyes reminded her too much of Sirius's sometimes, and she didn't like to be with Paolo and have her mind burdened with Sirius.

"You are thinking of that boy back home," Paolo told her, and she nodded. He did not surprise her as much anymore with his impressive mind-reading skills. In fact, now she only became surprised at him if he didn't understand exactly how she felt. "Tell me about him," Paolo said. "Tell me why you are always stuck on him."

Melody sighed. "I don't know," she said. "It's...it's a lot of little things, I guess. He sees right through me, although not the way you do. He understands me, but...in a different way. He calls out all my faults and forces me to see things about myself that I don't want to see. He never lets me lie to anyone, not even myself. He just...doesn't have time for bullshit, I guess."

"Neither do I," Paolo agreed. "It gets in the way of things. It is just like how you let your uncle get in the way of you being yourself."

"You sound so much like him, you have no idea," Melody said, shaking her head.

"But I am not like him, you say."

"No, you're...you're not. You don't make me feel as...as..." she trailed off, searching for the word. "I don't know what word there is for it. I...unsettled, I guess. I guess he makes me feel unsettled. Unsure. But you...you make me feel confident. You aren't as frustrated as Sirius is with me all the time."

"Why is he frustrated with you? Is it for the same reason you are frustrated with him?"

"I never said I was frustrated with him," Melody said quickly, her cheeks reddening again.

"You didn't have to," Paolo said merrily, his eyes twinkling again. "You are both frustrated because there is something between you that you are wanting that you won't let yourselves have. I think he is wanting you the way you are wanting him but you both are clueless in affairs of the heart, so you back off."

"I am not clueless in affairs of the heart," Melody insisted, feeling slightly offended.

"You are good at dancing just out of reach of people's affections. You are good at avoiding affairs of the heart, so I have noticed. But you are not good at having them. Although when your family is involved, it is a different story. You waste all your love on them and are afraid to make room for anyone else."

"That's not..." Melody began, but then trailed off, realizing it might be true. "I love Lily," she said finally. "She's my friend."

"Ah, but she is different than loving a boy. When you love a friend, it is more like adding an extra person to your family. That love is more...unconditional. For you to love a boy, though...it requires more...sacrificing of yourself. There is more of a chance you will get hurt."

Melody just looked at Paolo. "Why are you so right about everything?"

Paolo laughed. "It is funny you say that. I always feel like I am so wrong about everything. But love I learn about from my mama. She knows more about love than anyone I know."

Melody sighed and stared out at the ocean again.

"You are trying to forget about him, no?" Paolo asked, and Melody nodded. "Come," he said, taking her hand, "and I will help you forget about him."

Melody looked up at him, eyes wide, and he smiled at her, his eyes twinkling again.

"I am not going to make you fall in love with me," he promised. "I am just going to take you home. You will meet mama, and she will let you know exactly what you need to know."

Melody relaxed and smiled. "I would love to meet your mama," she replied.

* * *

That night after work Lily had nowhere to sleep. She considered hailing the Knight Bus again and telling them to take her to the coasts of Scotland, or somewhere else as far away from her home as she could think of, but then realized this would put her back into contact with the wizarding world, the one place she did not want to be. Instead she spent a good chunk of money on a shabby motel room outside of Westhaven for the night.

The white paint in the room was chipped and peeling, revealing yellow walls underneath. The room smelled of smoke, and Lily fought with the creaky rusting window for a minute before opening it and airing the room out. There were burn marks on the bedside table that indicated old cigarettes. The television was tiny and only got four channels, two of which were showing the news. One was a cartoon channel and the other was showing sitcom reruns that Lily didn't want to watch.

She sighed and decided to just go to bed. The sheets, at least, smelled clean, even if the mattress was hard and lumpy. Lily spent half the night tossing and turning before falling into an uneasy sleep, where her mind was plagued by nightmares, and she awoke three times before falling, finally, into a dreamless slumber.

The next day she awoke with a familiar itching in her fingers. She wanted to play the piano. She didn't imagine the motel had a piano, so she racked her brain for places that usually had them. Churches usually did--or if not a piano, at least an organ. Windkey was teaching her to play organ. She wasn't that good yet, but at the same time she wasn't bad, and today she didn't care; she just wanted to play.

Down the street was a used clothing store, and she bought a blouse and a skirt there before returning to the motel to shower and change. There were several bugs in the shower, which Lily screamed at and then smashed with her shoes before removing them. She was afraid to close her eyes while she showered for fear that more bugs would come out of nowhere and start crawling on her, and as a result she got shampoo in her eyes. She spent five minutes trying to wash the shampoo out of her eyes and make them stop stinging, and then finished up the shower as quickly as she could and bolted from the bathroom.

Lily made up her mind to go back to London. There were amazing cathedrals in London, and she wanted to play the piano in one of them. Or the organ. Whichever. She didn't want it to be for a service or anything; she just wanted to play. And maybe while she was there, she would talk to God.

Lily hadn't spoken to Him in a while. She hadn't been able to find words to say to Him after her family had been taken from her. And she didn't feel like she could talk to any of the Potters about God; she wasn't quite sure if they believed in Him or not. They celebrated Christmas, of course--but then most wizards did, and most wizards did not speak of God. In fact, the only wizard Lily had ever met who'd spoken of God was Windkey.

They'd arranged for special lessons, once a week, in Hogsmeade. Lily, Windkey, and Dumbledore were the only people who knew about the lessons--and for good reason. What they were doing was somewhat illegal. Dumbledore had a Time Turner that he was allowing Lily to use for one hour every Wednesday at seven, so that she could escape into Hogsmeade and return without anyone knowing.

At first Lily had not been sure why Dumbledore had allowed such a thing; it seemed to Lily an incredibly great length to go to just for her to be taking music lessons, but over time things had begun to make more sense.

Music, as it turned out, was not just music to some wizards; it was an extension of their magic. Their magic enhanced their abilities as a musician, and vice versa. Music was a powerful enough force in its own right (for example, some magical creatures were so susceptible to music that they fell asleep almost instantly upon hearing a single note), but if music was tied into a wizard's magic, it was all the more potent, and that much more important for them to enhance their abilities. Apparently Lily fell into this category.

Unfortunately, however, the strength of this music-magic so far had not had much of an effect on the rest of Lily's magic. She was no better or worse at casting spells than she had ever been, and as far as she could tell, none of her magic had been enhanced a bit. Her playing certainly had improved, but apparently not enough to severely affect her magical abilities.

Windkey had assured her it would be a long, drawn-out process, and had also warned her that it was entirely possible nothing would come of this, but that he was determined to try. If everything went as perfectly as it could possibly go, Lily would end up with a Siren's voice. Having a Siren's voice was an incredibly rare magical talent; only one witch in two millenia had actually been born with the talent, and beyond that, only three witches and wizards had ever trained themselves to that level of magic.

Siren's voices were magic similar to that of veela magic, except that they worked on everything, not just human males. They worked on women and all types of magical creatures. Someone with a Siren's voice could convince anyone to do pretty much anything--all they had to do was ask. There were almost no defenses against the magic, as it was so rare most people weren't even aware of its existence, and there was no one living who even had a Siren's voice, so there was no way to practice any defenses against it, either.

It was a long shot Lily would ever have a Siren's voice, but, Windkey told her, it was important to try. It was impossible to tell, from the start, who had the potential to have a Siren's voice. The last witch who'd possessed this talent had lived over two hundred years ago, and, as the stories went, was absolutely the most tone deaf and musically untalented person anyone had ever met. These stories, of course, were an exaggeration--anyone who had a Siren's voice had to have some musical talent--but it still showed that having all the musical talent in the world didn't necessarily mean you were better suited for having a Siren's voice than a lesser musician.

It was entirely possible that Lily was doing all this work for absolutely nothing, but it was fun, so she didn't particularly care. If all she got out of it was being a great musician instead of being the most powerful witch in the entire world, then so be it. At least she'd have something out of it.

With a desire to play itching in her fingers, Lily set out for London.

* * *

Melody lay in bed until noon, reliving last night's events in her mind. Paolo, as promised, had taken her to his home. He lived in a small apartment with his mother and three siblings, and as they entered the home Melody could smell all kinds of spices and the aroma of freshly baked bread.

Paolo's siblings had attacked him the second he walked in the door. He had two younger brothers, Gianni and Antony, and a younger sister named Isabella. Antony was fifteen, and clearly thought himself every bit as grown up as his eighteen-year-old brother--although he was much, much more serious than Paolo. Gianni was twelve, and very impish--he had a devilish grin that reminded Melody very much of James and Sirius when they were plotting something evil to do to Snape. Isabella was ten and clearly adored Paolo to pieces.

"Paolo! Paolo! Guardare che ho fatto!" she cried the second he walked in the door, holding up a piece of paper that had a drawing on it. She'd done it with crayon, and it was very nice for a ten-year-old--but, even more impressive than that, it was moving. "Mama made it move," she said, "but I did everything else."

"And it is very beautiful. Even Signore Da Vinci would be most impressed. We shall hang it on the refrigerator!" Paolo cried, scooping his sister up in his arms and carrying her into the kitchen. Melody followed him, feeling a bit nervous. Paolo's mother was in the kitchen, fussing over pots and pans on the stove.

"Mama, I've brought someone for you to meet," Paolo said as he attached Isabella's drawing to the refrigerator, next to a dozen other masterpieces of hers. Paolo's mother looked up from the stove and at Melody. She was thin and short and very beautiful, Melody noted with some amount of surprise. For some reason she'd imagined someone tall and imposing; she couldn't quite see this woman packing up and bringing her four kids to America all by herself, when they were all so young.

But then Paolo's mama smiled, and Melody forgot what she'd been thinking. There was strength behind that smile, and confidence and love. This woman, Melody felt sure, could do positively anything, and she knew every bit as much about love as Paolo had said she did.

"Ay, bellezza!" she cried, setting down the large wooden spoon she'd been stirring with. She scurried over and gave Melody a warm hug. "Paolo, you didn't say your friend was so beautiful!" she scolded him. Paolo smiled.

"I did tell you there were not words to describe her, didn't I, mama?"

Paolo's mama laughed. "Please, Paolo. As if you ever run out of words to describe anything."

Melody smiled and tried to suppress a laugh.

"All right, laugh at me if you want," Paolo said, seeing Melody's expression and setting his sister back down on the floor. Immediately Isabella tugged on his shirt hem, and he crouched down to speak to her. "What?"

She whispered something in his hear, and he smiled. "Why don't you ask her?" he whispered back, but Isabella shook her head and whispered into his ear again. He laughed.

"All right, mia sorella bella. As you wish." He stood and turned to Melody, placing a hand on his sister's head. "My sister, il artista miniatura, wishes to draw you."

Melody blinked, and one of her hands self-consciously flew to her hair. It had been in a neat and orderly bun on the back of her head at the beginning of the night, adorned by several bejeweled butterfly pins, but now it was in complete disarray from dancing with Paolo. Quite a few strands had fallen out, and now the bun was rather limp. One of the butterfly pins had come out and, unwilling to mess with it, Melody had stuck it to the front of her dress.

"Oh," she said, "I'm sure I look awful. I don't think you'd want to--"

But she noticed Isabella insistently tugging at Paolo's shirt, looking at him with pleading eyes, and Paolo laughed and said, "I do not think she cares. It would bring her great joy to draw you."

"Well..." Melody considered, fussing over her hair a bit, "I suppose. But...I might as well take my hair down first."

She took out all the pins and shook out the blonde strands, attaching the pins to the straps that acted as the sleeves of her dress. Paolo was looking at her oddly.

"What?" Melody asked, running through her hair with her hands. "Does it look stupid?"

"No," Paolo replied, "but you've never worn your hair down before. Not around me. It looks...you should do it more often."

Gianni said something to Antony and they both snickered. Paolo's cheeks went a bit red and his mama turned around to order all of them to go wash up for dinner.

"Oh, mama, potere disegno suo adesso?" Isabella whined.

"Of course not. You must eat dinner first. After dinner you may draw. Now go wash!"

Isabella sighed and followed her brothers out of the room.

"Melody, if you wish to eat with us you can wash your hands in that sink over there. I know you must have eaten already, but we wait until Paolo gets home for our supper."

Melody, who hadn't eaten anything at the formal dinner that night because she'd been so excited about dancing with Paolo, was indeed very hungry, and gladly took up the offer. "I'm very hungry," she admitted, washing her hands. "Thank you so much, Mrs...."

"Oh, please! Don't call me that. You can call me Mama, just like everybody else!" she laughed.

"All right," Melody agreed, smiling. "Can I help you with anything?"

Paolo's mama laughed. "Oh, you are just like Paolo! He would try to help serve dinner even if he were dining with the President! No, you just sit at the table and be our guest for the night."

"Mama," Paolo said, returning, "what is this talk of me dining with the President?"

"Nothing. Here, make yourself useful and set these dishes on the table. And get our guest something to drink, would you?"

Paolo complied and set the dishes on the table. "How may I serve you?" he asked Melody, assuming his waiter stance.

"Oh, don't do that!" Melody insisted, embarrassed. "I can get myself a glass of water, it's all right."

"Oh, no, I insist on getting it for you," Paolo said, dashing across the kitchen and filling a glass with water. "Ice?" he asked, ducking into the freezer without waiting for a response. He then presented Melody with her glass of ice water rather pompously.

"I hope you're not expecting a tip for this," Melody joked, having a drink. Paolo smiled and continued to help his mama with dinner.

"Mama, where is our music?" Paolo demanded.

"I forgot to turn it on. You can if you want, as long as Melody doesn't mind."

Melody shook her head when Paolo glanced at her, and he flipped on the Wizarding Wireless Network. Into the kitchen roared Italian music, and Paolo's mama yelled at him to turn it down, which he did, quickly. He began dancing around the kitchen as he helped his mama set the table, and she laughed at him. Melody just smiled and tapped her feet, feeling a small urge to get up and dance with him, but she resisted, especially after Antony came in the room and rolled his eyes at his older brother.

Dinner was delicious and loud and full of talk. There were rolls and pasta and huge delicious meatballs and soup that Melody didn't recognize but that was absolutely wonderful. They talked of Melody and her uncle and her wizarding school in Britain, and then of Antony and Gianni's wizarding school, where they did not stay overnight, but rather just went during the day, except for Thursdays when they had Astronomy at midnight (although of course for now they were on summer holidays). Paolo had just graduated, and Isabella was going to start in the fall.

Paolo talked of the restaurant he wanted to open, once he had the money for it. Paolo's mama also shared in this dream; she wanted to cook for him if he ever started the business. Antony and Gianni didn't have such dreams yet, but they figured if they didn't want to do anything in particular by the time they graduated, they would help Paolo with the restaurant as well. Isabella simply wanted to be an artist.

After dinner the entire family cleaned up, and Melody absolutely insisted on helping this time. They talked and laughed as they washed dishes and wiped off the table and danced around to the music that was still blasting from the radio. Isabella had the smallest job and finished quickest, and quietly scurried off to find paper and crayons. She sat at the kitchen table and began drawing without anyone noticing, as Melody and Paolo dried dishes and danced together, looking silly.

After the dishes were done, Paolo grabbed his mama and began to mambo, so Melody grabbed Gianni and they made up a dance. Antony sat at the table and tried to look grown-up. At some point all of the dancing fools swapped partners, so Melody was dancing with Paolo again (which, admittedly, was more fun than dancing with Gianni, as Paolo was taller than her and actually knew what he was doing).

By the time they were all done dancing like idiots, Isabella had finished her drawing.

"Mama, mama!" she said. "Make it move!"

Mama pulled a wand out of her pocket and tapped the drawing, and Isabella laughed with delight.

"Paolo! Melody! Look! I drew you!"

Melody took the drawing and Paolo leaned over her shoulder to look at it, and they both smiled. The picture, though it was in crayon and a bit juvenile, clearly depicted Paolo spinning Melody around, then both of them taking a random dance step before Melody twirled again.

"It's wonderful," Melody said. "Should we hang it on the refrigerator?"

Isabella shook her head. "No, lo voglio l'avere...I want you to have it," she said, and Melody smiled.

"I'd love to have it, Isabella. Thank you."

Isabella beamed.

"Well," Paolo said, "I should take you back, Melody, before your uncle sends out a search party."

Melody glanced at the clock. The dancing at her uncle's party was supposed to last until midnight, and the clock said eleven-thirty. She nodded. "Thank you so much for dinner, Mama," she said, and Mama gave her a hug. "Thank you for the drawing, Isabella. I'll keep it forever." Isabella threw her arms around Melody's waist and hugged her. "You're a wonderful dancer, Gianni," Melody said, smiling, and he smiled back at her, his cheeks red. "I hope to see you again, Antony," she said, lastly, and he nodded at her cordially.

"Bye, mama," Paolo said, kissing his mother on the cheek. "Essrò di ritorno presto."

"I love your family," Melody said as he led her down the stairs and out to the street where his motorcycle was parked. Paolo smiled.

"I knew you would."

Melody sighed as she climbed on the back of his motorcycle. "Back to the real world now, I guess."

"Back to the fake world, you mean," Paolo said over his shoulder, starting the bike. Melody smiled.

"I guess so," she agreed. Paolo revved the engine and they shot off into the night.

They arrived at the hotel ten minutes before midnight; just enough time for her to sneak back in and rejoin her uncle. She stood outside pinning her hair back up for a few minutes before doing so.

"I really loved tonight, Paolo," she said, fiddling with her hair. "I wish I had more time to spend with you."

Paolo smiled. "Well, the world cannot be perfect," he reminded her. "But some time together is better than none."

Melody smiled, putting the last pin in place. "You're right, as usual."

"Of course I am," Paolo agreed, smiling again.

"I don't know when I'll see you again," Melody confessed. "I think my uncle wants to stay home for a while, maybe throw a party of his own."

"Well then you had better hug me good-bye," Paolo suggested.

Melody slid her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He slid his arms around her and did the same, and Melody, feeling happy and secure and intoxicated by his smell, which was a mix of night air and his mother's cooking and aftershave, did not want to let him go. She held on to him much longer than she should have, and when she pulled back she did not completely let go of him, nor he of her.

Paolo looked at her for a moment, intensely, as though trying to determine something, and then kissed her, though very lightly. Nobody had kissed Melody so lightly before, so delicately, and it sent her heart beating off balance. She put a hand on the side of his head and pulled his lips down onto hers firmly, gently opening both of their mouths in the process. It turned out that Paolo was very good at this kind of kissing as well, and she lost herself to sensation for a moment before her mind returned to her body and she realized she was going to be late. Paolo seemed to sense this, and the kiss ended. It wasn't broken; it just ended, quite naturally, and Melody's eyes fluttered open and she looked at him.

It felt very, very right to be standing there in Paolo's arms. She didn't care that she was going to be late and her uncle would be mad at her. She didn't care that she was leaving in a few weeks and might never see him again. She didn't even care about what Lily might say when she found out. It didn't even occur to her until very much later what Sirius might have felt about the situation. She just wanted to stand there with Paolo's arms around her forever.

"You should go," Paolo said reluctantly, loosening his hold on her. Melody sadly let her arms slide down from around his neck.

"I'll owl you," she promised. Paolo kissed her again, and then turned and got on his motorbike and left. She watched him until he disappeared around the corner, and then turned around herself and walked back into her world of lies.

This morning Melody could think of nothing else. Nothing, nothing, nothing but his kiss. She wanted to kiss him again. And again. And again and again and again. It was at this time that she thought, finally, of Sirius.

At first she was shocked. How had Paolo managed to make her forget, so completely, her affections for Sirius? It was true that he'd promised to do exactly that, but she hadn't actually believed he would. She was rarely able to forget completely about Sirius. But now that she had...for an entire night...she liked it. She felt as though she were free of him. He'd just been a burden, dragging her down, weighing on her mind, confusing her emotions, and now he was gone, and it was all Paolo.

Paolo, whom she...what? Loved? No, she couldn't possibly. She hadn't known him long enough. But she certainly adored him. And his family. And his dancing. And his kissing. And that, she supposed, as an owl flew in through her open bedroom window and deposited a copy of the Daily Prophet onto her bed, was enough for now.

She got the Daily Prophet several days later than wizards in England did, as it had to be carried overseas. This particular issue was four days old, and on the front, Melody noticed with a pang, was another picture of a Dark Mark.

"Great," she muttered. "What poor innocent Muggles did they target this time?"

Precisely one minute after she'd picked the paper up, she dropped it again, and sat, for a moment, in complete shock, before registering what she'd seen in the Prophet.

Lily's entire family was dead.

* * *

Lily walked up the steps of the great cathedral and stared at it in awe. She entered through the doors into complete silence. It was, she supposed, reverent silence, but it was also kind of creepy. She walked through the narthex and into the chapel. Stained glass lined the walls, depicting colorful illustrations of the Bible's most important stories. A giant organ sat in the back of the chapel, and across from it was a beautiful grand piano.

A priest was lighting candles at the back, in between the piano and the organ. He looked up as Lily came in, and nodded at her. She walked up the center aisle between the pews, and when she got close enough, he spoke to her.

"Welcome, child, to the house of the Lord," he said. "What brings you here?"

"I wanted..." Lily began, feeling stupid. "I was wondering..."

The priest waited patiently.

"Would you mind if I...could I...would it be possible for me to..."

"Yes, child?"

"I'd like to play on your piano. If I could."

The priest smiled. "I don't see why not. The Lord appreciates all the music his children make. Go right ahead and play something for Him."

Lily smiled gratefully and scurried over to the grand piano, where she sat at the bench and placed her fingers on the keys, letting them slide across the black-and-white ivory until they picked out a suitable chord. She pressed down, and the strings of the piano vibrated across the room. Her fingers took off of their own accord, and she lost herself brilliantly in the music, just as she'd wanted to so much this morning when she'd gotten up.

* * *

"All right, plan of action," Sirius said as he and James walked down Diagon Alley.

"Plan of action," James repeated, staring at every witch he passed. "Right."

"James, quit staring at those poor girls. They're going to think you're a stalker."

"So what if they do?" James demanded. "If one of them is Lily, then I don't care."

"James, why would Lily be hanging out with a group of girls? Didn't she run away alone?"

"Maybe she's trying to cover by staying in a group."

"That doesn't sound like Lily."

"What are you, the foremost expert on Lily Evans?"

"How dare you accuse me of being the foremost expert on anything!" Sirius cried in mock anger.

"Now is not the time for jokes, Padfoot."

"Lighten up, Prongs. We'll find her."

"That's what you say, but you know if she doesn't want to be found, I don't think there's anything we can do about that."

"Then remind me why we're looking again...?"

"Because we've got to find her, Padfoot."

"Right."

"Look, maybe if we split up..." James began.

"Oh, no. Bad things happen when people split up. We won't be able to find her or each other again."

"Well, if we don't pick a meeting place we will."

"James, stop trying to be logical. I'm serious here."

"Too right you are," James agreed, slapping his best friend on the back. "How about I take this alley and you take that one."

"James, we are not splitting up."

"I'll meet you back here in half an hour, all right?"

"James, listen to me. Lily wouldn't be going down dark alleyways, and you shouldn't be, either. There are more sinister things than hags in the dark places of London."

"God, Sirius, you sound like a damn storybook. Quit worrying so much. Let's just look for Lily."

"I'm worrying?" Sirius asked, incredulous. "All you do is worry about Lily. Don't lecture me about worrying."

"Sirius, we're wasting time."

Sirius sighed and looked around. "Damn right we are. What are we doing here? Let's go."

"Go? Go where, exactly?"

"Not here," Sirius replied. "She's not here."

"How do you figure that?"

"She wouldn't be here. If she needed to go to Gringotts she'd have come and left by now, and she probably figured this was the first place we'd look."

James swore at length. "Hell, Sirius, what are we going to do?"

"We're just going to have to think. Where do you think Lily would go?"

"If I knew that, Padfoot, we'd have found her already."

"You're not helping."

"Shit. Okay. I'm thinking. Lily...if she didn't want to be found...she...she'd hide out in...some place we'd never go. Like...like...a beauty parlor, or...no, that's too stupid. Er..."

"Well, she'd probably go somewhere we wouldn't expect her to. I mean, where's the last place you'd expect her to be?"

"Yemen?" James suggested.

"Besides Yemen."

"God, I don't know, Sirius. Off to avenge her parents? I...wait," James said slowly, and he looked at Sirius, who caught on to his train of thought.

"You can't be serious," Sirius said, ignoring the pun. "I mean...that's crazy. Why would she go there, of all places?"

"Maybe that's exactly the point," James replied. "Who in God's name would expect her to go home?"

"Do you know the way then?"

"Er...no, but...she lives in Westhaven. We can just look it up on a Floo map, take the Network to the nearest fireplace, and walk into town. And then...I guess we can ask for directions."

"Are you completely out of your mind?" Sirius demanded as James strode toward the Leaky Cauldron. "You do realize her whole family's dead, don't you? Isn't that something their neighbors would notice? You can't just go up and ask them where a bunch of dead people live."

"Sure I can," James replied as they reached the back entrance to the pub. "The Muggles don't know about it."

Sirius stared at him as he disappeared through the doorway. "Are you serious?" he demanded, following his best friend.

"Dead serious, Padfoot. The Muggle papers haven't printed a damn thing about it, not even an obituary. The Muggles have no clue anything's wrong at all."

"Holy hell. And how'd the Ministry manage that, exactly?" Sirius demanded as James wound his way through the pub and to the fireplace.

"Look, I don't know the logistics of it, exactly, but I'm just telling you that's how it is. I mean, you remember me telling you the Ministry's covered up about half the actual attacks there have been this summer, right?"

"Of course."

"Well...this is just one of those things they've been able to cover up."

"Jesus."

"Let's just go," James said, grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the jar above the fireplace. "Look in the directory, would you?"

"Right," Sirius said, and found Westhaven. "Fiddlius Wand Shoppe," he said. "Just outside of town."

"Good," James replied, and threw the sparkling white powder into the burning red flames.

* * *

The Minister of Magic was up to his neck in owls, visitors, and intra-office memos. There was so much to take care of he couldn't even keep track of it all. Two of his secretaries had given up trying to maintain order at their desks and instead had moved right in to the Minister's office. They were both running around trying to clear up all the owls and memos and things, reading through them and then filing them in order of importance, making sure the Minister heard only what it was necessary for him to hear.

Normally things were hectic after an attack, but not for this long, and it was never this bad.

"Minister," Charlotte, the secretary going through owls, said. "The Prime Minister wants to have tea with you sometime this week to discuss everything that's been going on this summer. He requests you owl him back right away."

The Minister, who had been attempting to write a quick owl to his wife to let her know he wouldn't be home for dinner (again), dropped his quill and massaged his forehead. "Get Maria," he said, "find an opening in my schedule, and write the owl for me. I'll sign it."

Charlotte nodded and scurried out of the room in search of the Minister's third secretary. His fourth secretary, Theresa, was stationed just outside the door, trying to fend off a gaggle of visitors.

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "The Minister is very busy right now, and if you'll just wait patiently you'll all get in to see--"

That was all the Minister heard before the door slammed closed behind Charlotte. Stacey, the secretary still in the Minister's office going through intra-office memos, shot him a sympathetic look. The Minister nodded at her and went back to the letter to his wife. He was in mid-sentence and had completely forgotten what he was going to say, so he just shook his head and signed it.

An owl flew in at that moment, carrying a memo, and instead of cursing it as he had all the previous ones, he grabbed it and ordered it to take the letter to his wife, even though memo owls were not technically supposed to leave the building. As the owl flew off, the sound of thunder rumbled through the Minister's office, and rain began pouring down from the ceiling.

"Bloody hell!" the Minister shouted. "Can't those damn wizards in Magical Maintenance let up for once? Can't they see we're in THE MIDDLE OF A NATIONAL CRISIS? THE LEAST THEY COULD DO IS KEEP THE WEATHER OUTSIDE THE WINDOWS!"

Charlotte re-entered the room. "Sir?" she asked, uncertainly.

"YES!" the Minister barked.

"Maria's booked you to have tea with the Prime Minister next Thursday. Just sign here," she instructed, handing him a damp piece of parchment. Stacey took the liberty of conjuring a large umbrella and enchanting it to hover over the Minister's desk.

"HERE!" the Minister shouted, throwing the parchment back at Charlotte.

"And...sir?"

"WHAT?"

"Theresa says there's someone here to see you. Someone you must see."

"WHO?"

"A witch from the International Magical Office of Law, sir. She has someone with her you need to speak to."

"SEND THEM IN!"

Charlotte nodded and went to the door, which she cracked open. She had a brief conversation with Theresa before closing the door and returning to her pile of owls. The door opened again and in walked two women, one of whom looked very familiar.

"Well, ladies," the Minister said, "how can I help you?"

* * *

"You're very good."

Lily looked up from the piano in surprise to see the priest sitting in a pew very close to the piano. "Oh," she said, her cheeks coloring slightly. "Thank you."

"How long have you been playing?"

"Oh...six years, I think."

"That's very impressive. Where did you start?"

"At...my church back home. I used to play there on Sundays. But now...I go to a boarding school. I don't play anymore."

The priest nodded. "What's on your mind?"

"Pardon?"

"You obvioiusly have something weighing you down. People don't concentrate that hard on music when they're happy."

"Sure--sure they do," Lily replied, uncertainly. The priest shrugged. Lily blinked. She didn't think she'd ever seen a priest shrug before.

"Maybe they do," he replied. "I was never much of a musician myself."

Lily sighed, and the priest sat patiently, waiting for her to speak.

"You're right," she admitted. "I have a lot on my mind. But I don't--" she cut herself off, shrugging. "I don't want to waste your time with it."

"No human being is a waste of time," the priest replied. "Tell me what it is that's troubling you."

Lily sighed again and looked at the priest, considering. His eyes were kind, and wise, and patient. He looked as though he really did have all the time in the world to sit and listen to her pour out her tale of woe. So she got up and walked over to the pew he was sitting in, sat down next to him, and began to talk.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right street, Padfoot?" James asked doubtfully as they walked down a tree-lined avenue.

"Yes," Sirius insisted. "Look, you chickened out on asking for directions, so you're just going to have to trust me."

James muttered something under his breath, but Sirius ignored him. "Here we are," he announced, stopping in front of a house that had a FOR SALE sign posted in the front yard.

"She's not here, then," James said, looking at the house, which was dark and empty and sad-looking. "Let's go."

"What makes you think she's not here?"

"It's all closed up. All the lights are off. Come on, Padfoot, she's not here."

"Says who? Maybe she is. It's pretty sunny today, James, she doesn't need lights. Besides, she's too smart to use them anyway. There's a sign in the front yard that says 'for sale'. Wouldn't someone come and investigate if there were lights turning on and off in a supposedly empty house?"

"Just because a house is for sale doesn't mean the family's moved out yet," James pointed out. "The Muggles are clueless, remember? They'd have no idea one way or another."

"Are you trying to tell me that in four days none of the other people that live on this street would have come over to say good-bye?"

"Maybe they were unpopular."

"James, you met Lily's parents. They are too nice to be unpopular."

"You mean they were too nice."

"I try not to think about that."

"Let's just leave, Padfoot. It's not worth it." Without waiting for a response, he turned and began walking down the street. Sirius jogged to catch up to him.

"Where are you going now?"

"Lily worked at a Muggle coffee shop this summer. We're going to find it and see if she's been there."

"And why the hell would she go there? She has no clue that the Muggles don't know what's going on. If I were her, I wouldn't want to go someplace people would be feeling sorry for me all the time. Or where they might call the police on me."

"The police?"

"Sure. You know, the Muggle law enforcers who carry those sticks and whack people with them--"

"I know what police are, Sirius. I just meant...why would they call the police on her?"

"Well...if they did have any clue that an attack had happened and her entire family was dead, the police would probably want to talk to her...you know, identify the bodies, or...ask if she saw anything...that kind of stuff."

"Oh. Like the questions my dad asked Lily?"

"Yeah. Investigation. That kind of thing."

They reached a bus stop. "D'you...d'you think we should take the bus?" James asked.

"To where, exactly?"

"I dunno. It might go into town."

Sirius shrugged. "I don't see why not."

They sat and waited. James took his bouncy ball out of his pocket and bounced it off the cement sidewalk.

"Do you ever go anywhere without that thing?" Sirius asked, and James smiled.

"No," he replied. "Are you kidding? It's the love of my life."

"Lily will be jealous when I tell her."

"If we ever find her, you mean."

"We'll find her, Prongs."

"Sure we will."

"Hey, look! A bus!"

"Wouldn't you know it. A bus at a bus stop! What a concept!"

"Shut up, Prongs."

"As you wish, Padfoot."

* * *

Melody formed a plan of action much more quickly than James and Sirius. As soon as she got over her initial shock, she grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill and wrote a letter to Mrs. Potter informing her that she'd heard what happened and was coming for a stay at Potter's Cottage. She packed her trunk and had one of the house-elves put a Weightlessness Charm on it, as she wasn't technically supposed to do magic herself.

Crookshanks didn't have a cage, but he was very well-behaved when it came to traveling by Floo, so Melody just intended to hold him when she Flooed to New York City to catch a Portkey back to England.

She donned her new traveling cloak and then carried her not-so-heavy trunk downstairs and set it by the fireplace. Hans and Catalina were having lunch in the garden, and she walked outside to say good-bye. Catalina saw Melody first, and gave her a curious look.

"My dear, where are you going?" she inquired as Melody reached their table. Hans looked up from his soup, quite surprised.

"I'm going to back to England," she replied. "I came to say good-bye."

"You most certainly are not going back to England," Hans said.

"I have to, uncle," Melody insisted. "Something horrible has happened to one of my friends, and I must go to her."

"Is she on her deathbed?" Hans inquired.

"Well...no, but...it's her family, you see, they--"

"Then you're not going anywhere. I'm sure she'll be fine."

Melody stared at her uncle in shock. This was a side of him she'd never seen before. He'd always been so nice to her, so...cordial and...generous. He'd never denied her anything she'd asked for, so why now?

Upon further reflection she admitted that she'd never asked for more than a hat or a new pair of gloves; it had always been material things she'd asked for, things Hans hadn't minded providing her with. But she'd never questioned where he took her or when, what parties she went to or who she dined with. And she certainly never had spoken of going home before.

Melody narrowed her eyes. She'd allowed her uncle to push her around more than she'd thought, and she didn't like it.

"I am going back to England," she informed him. "I apologize for the short notice and also the inconvenience, but it is a most urgent matter, and I--"

"You said she was not on her deathbed. What else could there possibly be?"

"It is a time of need for her, and I must be there."

"Has she requested your presence?"

"Well..." Melody considered. No, Lily hadn't, but...just as sure as Melody knew her hair was blonde, she knew Lily would want her there. "Not officially, but I know--"

"Then it is rude to impose yourself. You have no real reason to go, niece. You shall stay here," he informed her, and then returned to his soup as though the matter was settled.

Melody blinked at him, feeling suddenly furious. "Fine," she snapped. "Since you won't listen to me, I'll just say good-bye to Catalina and be on my way!" She turned to Catalina. "I'll owl you when I arrive in England. Good-bye."

She turned around and stalked back to the mansion. She was halfway there when she felt strong fingers close around her arm, and she was yanked unceremoniously around by her uncle.

"You are not going anywhere," Hans said, glaring at her. Melody glared back at him.

"I have to go," she informed him, trying to yank his arm out of his grasp.

"I'm warning you," he growled, "if you leave..."

"You'll do what? Disown me?" Melody demanded, challenging him.

"I could do worse than that to you and your family," he threatened, tightening his grip on her arm. Melody gritted her teeth against the pain.

"Don't you dare try anything on my family."

"Don't you dare leave this house."

"You're not in charge of me. Let. Me. Go."

"Melody," her uncle said warningly, now taking a grip on her other arm, "think of all I have done for you. I have been generous, have I not?"

Melody didn't answer, just glared at him sourly.

"Don't push it, my dear. The world is not all jewels and shoes and soft silky things."

"I don't need a reminder, thank you. I became well aware of that when my father was murdered."

"Then it stands to reason that you'd be more agreeable."

"Just because the world is harsh doesn't mean I'm going to lie down and take it," Melody snarled.

"You are foolish to fight for things that you don't need to fight for."

"Well, what's the point in being young and naive if I can't also be foolish?"

"You are many things, Melody, but I would not count naive as one of them."

"I'm glad I have your vote of confidence on that, uncle, but I'm afraid we've sidetracked our conversation. I'm on my way to England and have sent off a good deal of money to arrange for a Portkey. If I don't leave soon I shall miss it, and then I shall be very cross with you."

"It does not do to advertise to your benefactor the amount of money which you've spent at their expense," Hans informed her coldly.

"Then I guess it is a good thing I specified no exact amount of money," Melody replied boldly.

"Melody," her uncle began again, with a tone of finality, "you are not going anywhere, and if I cannot convince you of that with words, then I shall have to keep you here by force."

Melody shrieked as he yanked on her arm and dragged her into the house. She expected Catalina to come running up and yell at Hans to let her go, but she didn't. Nobody did anything. Melody yelled and tugged and fought and howled, but in the end her uncle was larger and stronger and he threw her into her bedroom unceremoniously and locked the door.

She was trapped inside her uncle's house for reasons she did not entirely understand. Was he trying to exercise power and control over her? Surely he'd already assured himself he had that. Hadn't she done everything he'd ever asked her to? Besides sneaking out with Paolo this summer, she'd never disobeyed him--and besides, had he even known about Paolo? If he did, he certainly didn't act like he cared.

It was almost too much for her to take.

* * *

"So...is this it?"

"I guess so."

"Why are you staring at it like that?"

"This place is evil," James declared, glaring at the door to the small, innocent-looking coffee shop in the middle of Walnut street.

A sign in the window declared, "Two donut 'Two'sdays! Two for one from six to noon every Tuesday!"

"Oh, yes," Sirius agreed flatly. "Clearly the hovel of the damned."

"Prepare yourself for what you are about to face," James warned solemnly, ignoring the sarcasm in Sirius's voice.

"What? Attack of the killer donuts?"

James glared at his best friend sourly.

"What? It was just a suggestion!"

"Let's just go in," James suggested, and Sirius followed him inside the shop. Inside it was neat and orderly, with an odd coffee-place-meets-diner sort of feel. On one side of the shop were chairs and tables and a bar with stools for people to sit at, and on the other side of the room there was an empty stage and a bunch of couches and chairs next to little end tables and things.

There weren't very many customers; two people sat at the bar, several seats apart, and three of the little tables were occupied by groups of two or three. Nobody sat in the couch-and-chair area. A petite blonde girl came out from behind the counter carrying a tray with two steaming beverages and one iced one on it, in addition to several appetizing pastries. Behind the counter a tall, muscular blonde boy was banging on a coffee machine and cursing at it under his breath. As the girl came back behind the counter, she rolled her eyes and pushed him aside, fiddling with the knobs and tapping it gently before giving it another solid whack, and then the machine churned into motion.

The boy muttered something and the girl smirked, and then the boy disappeared into the back through swinging doors. Almost as soon as the boy had removed himself, a man came through the still-swinging doors with a tray of pastries and began restocking the glass display cabinet built into the front counter.

Sirius nudged James, who had been standing watching all this with a blank expression on his face, and, in a motion similar to that of the coffee machine, James jolted into motion. He walked up the counter, where the blonde girl greeted him perkily.

"Hi! How can I help you?" she chirped.

"Er..." James said, staring blankly at the menu posted on the wall. Did he want an iced moccachino, or a latte?

Sirius stepped on his foot, and James jerked again.

"I...want..." he began, with the girl still looking at him expectantly, and then Sirius let out a great impatient sigh, shoved his friend aside, and said to the girl,

"We're looking for Lily Evans."

"Lily Evans?" the girl repeated, and Sirius nodded. "I'm sorry, she's not working today."

James looked rather deflated, but Sirius pressed on. "Is she working at all this week?"

"Um..." the girl said, thinking. "I think...I think she worked yesterday, but I don't know about the rest of the week. The schedules haven't been posted yet."

"She did work yesterday," confirmed the man with the tray of pastries. "Are you friends of hers?" he directed at Sirius and James.

"Er," James began, but Sirius saved him the trouble.

"Yes. We'll just come back another day then."

"All right," the man agreed. "I'll let her know you were here. What are your names?"

Sirius stepped on James's foot before he could say "er" again, and said, "I'm Sirius, and this is James."

The man nodded. "All right, boys. You have a nice day."

"Thanks, mate," Sirius said, and turned James around just as the muscular blonde boy came out of the kitchens and nearly ran into the man now holding an empty silver tray.

"Ethan, watch where you're going!" the man hissed before disappearing through the swinging doors.

James stopped abruptly, and Sirius stumbled a bit. "What the blazes--" Sirius began as his best friend turned around.

"Maybe I want a coffee after all," he decided.

"Do you even like coffee?"

"Er..."

"Right."

"Look, d'you see that bloke?" James hissed in Sirius's ear, jabbing his finger in the direction of the tall, blonde Ethan.

"Sure. He's kinda hard to miss, don't you think?"

"Yes, well," James said, skimming over that. "Earlier this summer, he had this little...thing...for Lily."

"So?"

"SO?" James nearly exploded, and then remembered to keep his voice down. "So?" he demanded again, much softer. "So he made a move on her, Padfoot!"

Sirius just looked at him. "James, are you completely daft?"

"Of course not. I'm going to go pound that guy," he declared, making a motion to do so, but Sirius restrained him.

"You are an idiot," Sirius hissed, dragging his best friend out of the coffee shop rather unceremoniously. James looked at him, half confused and half sulking, and deigned not to speak. "James," Sirius said, flatly, "if you haven't realized by now just how cock-eyed Lily is over you, then you really are too much of a poncey git to deserve to live."

"Cock-eyed?" James wondered, and Sirius hit him.

"Yes, cock-eyed. How else d'you want me to put it? Mad. Crazy. Head-over-heels. As crazily in love as Juliet but without the dying."

James ignored the dying part. "Are you...d'you really think...you can't possibly be serious about... I mean...Jesus, Padfoot, she...I...we're only...she just...I don't."

Sirius rolled his eyes and yanked his best friend down the street. "We're not going to find her today, Prongs. We might as well go back to your house for now."

He led James, still sputtering, down the street toward the bus stop.

* * *

"...and then I just needed to play, so...I came here," Lily finished, sniffling, wiping a few stray tears away from her cheeks.

The priest nodded. "It is a hard test the Lord is putting you through."

Lily could do nothing but nod in agreement.

"These are hard times we've come upon," he whispered, and Lily looked at him oddly. Surely he couldn't mean...he couldn't know about...he couldn't be a...wizard...could he? He looked at her then and nodded.

"You know of what I speak," he said softly, registering Lily's astonishment. "I am not part of your world, my dear, but I know of those who are. Two nieces of mine...they go to school in France."

"Beauxbatons," Lily whispered, and the priest nodded. She was floored. She hadn't known anyone outside of the immediate families of Muggle-borns were aware of the magical world. Her cousins certainly didn't know she was a witch.

"Let us not speak of that too loudly," the priest advised. "While the Lord understands...there are others who do not."

Lily's eyes widened considerably, and she looked at the priest, astonished. She'd known, of course, that Voldemort was a growing threat, but...could his allegiances stretch even to here, to the Muggle world, in a Muggle church, with a Muggle priest?

The priest glanced around the church for a moment, looking suspicious--a very odd gesture for a priest to make, as priests Lily had known were generally very open and trusting--and then whispered, almost inaudibly, to Lily.

"Were you any other young girl in the world, I would not tell you this. But knowing what you have lost, I feel that it is something you need to hear."

Lily nodded, eyes wide as ever, and listened readily to the priest.

"The papers in France are not as controlled as the ones here. There have been more attacks this summer than your papers have printed."

This sent shockwaves through Lily's body. It had never occurred to her that the Ministry might be controlling the press. It had never occurred to her that they might be keeping things from the public. It had never occurred to her that the threat and danger of Voldemort was bigger and more frightening than it already seemed.

Lily's world contracted in that moment, and she felt vulnerable and foolish and scared. How could she have been so stupid as to think that the Ministry would release every detail concerning Voldemort's growing threat against the Muggles--or, in Lily's case, wizards and Muggles alike. On the one hand...why would the Ministry keep things from the wizarding community? What were they trying to hide? But on the other hand...why would they want to provoke panic among the masses?

It was all too confusing to consider, and Lily cleared her head as the priest continued to speak.

"You can no longer reach news from France here. They won't allow the papers to cross the strait. That is how serious it is becoming, though they don't want you to know it."

Lily stared at him in disbelief. It was all insane. Insane that the Ministry was hiding things, insane that international correspondence was being cut off, and especially insane that Lily had to hear all of this from a Muggle priest in London when, for the three nights immediately following the attack on her family, she had lived in the household of the Minister of Magic.

"Thank you," she whispered, standing suddenly. "I must go," she informed the priest, having firmly made up her mind that she was going to go back to Potter's Cottage and grill James for information until he was as devoid of information as an overcooked hamburger is of juice.

"Go in peace. Serve the Lord," the priest offered as she turned and ran out of the chapel.

The priest sighed as he watched her go. A heaviness settled on his heart as he thought of all the sorrows she'd already been through and all the sorrows that he was sure were still to come. People so young should not have to live through times such as these, he thought sadly. They should not be forced into these battles before they are ready.

He let his head fall back, and looked up at the ceiling of the chapel, tall and wide and graceful, sweeping up toward the spire that topped the chapel roof. A voice in the back of his mind tugged at his thoughts, reminding him that in many ages before this one, young people were forced to fight many battles before they were ready; that in his own lifetime, the priest had faced injustices and hardships and even his own war to fight in before he was ready.

It was a good thing he'd given all his trust to the Lord long ago; otherwise he might have questioned the sometimes repetitive nature of His great Plan.

* * *

James stepped out of the fireplace in a whirl of flames and ashes, feeling rather put out by his unsuccessful search for Lily. He unhooked the clasp of his traveling cloak and flung it on the couch, plopping down next to it and looking disheartened. Sirius calmly entered the room through the fireplace and plopped down next to James, not bothering to remove his own cloak.

Mrs. Potter hurried into the room soon after their arrival and greeted James with relief and worry.

"Did you find Lily?" she asked, and then steamrollered over James's reply with, "Oh, James, we were so worried about you!"

"Who, mom?" James asked dryly. "You and the house elves?"

"James Potter!" his mother scolded. "You know perfectly well your father was worried about you, too!"

James snorted derisively and turned to Sirius. "Five sickles says he wasn't even here."

"I'll take that bet," Sirius agreed, and they shook on it while Mrs. Potter looked on in annoyance.

"For your information, James Christopher, your father was here. In fact, he is here, and he wants to see you."

"Ha! You owe me five sickles," Sirius noted gleefully, and James grumbled something, pulling five silver coins out of his pocket and shoving them in Sirius's general direction.

"I take it you didn't find Lily," Mrs. Potter determined sadly, and James nodded, rising. His mother sighed. "We were hoping you would. But...never mind about that," she decided, walking briskly out of the room with James (and Sirius, happily clanking his newly won money together) and Sirius in pursuit. "I'm sure she'll turn up sooner or later," she said, but her voice didn't sound very certain.

She led James and Sirius to the Minister of Magic's home office and knocked on the door. The low murmuring of voices inside the room ceased, and they heard footsteps approach the door before it swung open from the inside.

"Come in," offered the Minister of Magic, ushering them inside.

Already in the office were two women--one James recognized, and one he most decidedly didn't. Ignoring the one he didn't, he looked at the familiar one oddly and grabbed Sirius's arm rather harshly. "Sirius!" he hissed, not taking his eyes off of the familiar woman. "Am I hallucinating?"

Sirius, who looked just as astonished as James, shook his head. "I don't think so, Prongs. I really don't think so."

* * *

Melody was being released from captivity. At least for dinner. They were having company, and her uncle didn't want his guests to think he was a barbarian. Which, Melody had decided, he was.

Catalina appearead in her room just before sunset, apologies written all over her face, but she did not say anything on Melody's imprisonment except that she was expected for dinner and that she should put on some dress robes for the occasion. In a flash of anger, Melody chose the sluttiest, most outrageous set of dress robes she owned and put them on, ignoring Catalina's fervent protests.

"If he wants to keep me here, fine," Melody had said, in response to Catalina's disapproval, "but he can't dictate how I act anymore. Tell him I'll be down just before the first course is served."

Catalina left the room without another word, and Melody arranged her dazzling deep blue dress robes so that they draped suggestively low below her neck and showed a very bewitching strip of perfectly tan thigh and calf where the robes opened into a slit. Satisfied with her slightly scandalous appearance, she showered herself with glittering diamonds and sapphires. Around her neck, on her ears, and around her wrists and fingers sparkled the jewelry. She layered on exotic amounts of make-up and tweaked and charmed her hair into seductive curls that fell almost to her waist.

She'd forgotten just who, exactly, was coming for dinner, but she hoped it was the most uptight, prudish, old-fashioned couple she'd ever met, so she could be as loud and offensive as possible--and then maybe her uncle would kick her out.

She had many plans of escape, each as unlikely as the next, but she was willing to try them all before giving up and leaving Lily alone in Potter's Cottage at the hands of James and Sirius.

Not that James and Sirius were bad people; they were two of the finest people Melody knew. Beyond that, James was absolutely crazy about Lily, and, Melody felt sure, would do anything he possibly could to protect her. However, Melody felt sure that this was all anyone in that household would do. They would protect her, coddle her, watch over her. But Lily would only need to be coddled for so long. After that point, she'd want to escape from it all, and Melody didn't think anyone would understand that.

Of course Melody wanted to comfort her friend, but she was also willing to help her escape, and Melody, better than anyone else, knew exactly how to do that.

Unfortunately, the kind of escape Melody was good at was emotional. She had nothing on stone walls.

Regardless, she still had her escape plans, and right now she was testing out option number 36. As she came down the stairs for dinner, she remembered suddenly that the Deckers were their dunner guests, and a feeling of defeat sunk into the pit ofher stomach. While the Deckers could be a tad conservative at times, they could also be the least prudish, uptight, old-fashioned people she'd ever met. This could be a good or a bad thing. On the one hand, they could just take Melody's odd appearance in stride and go along as if nothing was unusual. But on the other hand...they might ask why she was dressed as she was, and Melody was perfectly prepared to blurt out the truth in the hopes that she'd be able to get out of here.

It turned out the Deckers were partial to the one hand. They took in Melody's tight, half see-through, risque dress robes with raised eyebrows and then went about their business.

Luckily for Melody, however, their daughter was with them, and Eve Decker was no fool.

"What the hell is going on?" she hissed as they all entered the dining room for supper.

"I need to get out of here," Melody hissed back as they seated themselves on one side of the table.

"Is that dress just an obvious call for help or do you have an appointment somewhere?" Eve asked, setting her napkin in her lap.

"Take your pick," Melody replied, doing the same, "just help me figure out how to leave."

Eve nodded. "After dessert," she promised, and they proceeded with the meal.

* * *

Dinner proved to be a long, tiring affair. Eve ate quickly and thought slowly. Her body could not seem to coordinate itself. She wondered what could be the matter with Melody before wondering how, exactly, she was going to execute the promised (yet nonexistent) escape plan. She'd never been good at escaping. Of course, she'd never really tried, so maybe that didn't mean anything.

After dessert they retired to the sitting room to talk. Eve still did not have a plan of action. Eve's father and Melody's uncle both took brandys, but the women declined. Eve and Melody were not offered anything, though Eve almost wished she had. She didn't really like alcohol, but she tended to think better if she had something to fiddle with.

She caught Melody shooting desperate glances at her from across the room, and her mind suddenly jumped into gear. A plan erupted in her mind just as the words, "Can Melody give me a tour of the house?" erupted from her mouth. "It's so lovely, and I do so wish to see more of it," she added, for emphasis. Melody's uncle looked at her pleasantly, considering, but her mother looked at her, for a moment, as though she had sprouted horns. Eve had never bothered to be very polite before.

Melody's uncle, after glancing hesitantly at his niece for a moment, nodded. "I'm sure she would be happy to show you around."

Melody nodded in agreement and rose, leading Eve out of the room and stopping in the hall just outside the sitting room to loudly point out the family portrait before leading Eve deeper into the mansion and out of the reach of prying and suspicious ears.

"Thank God," Melody breathed. "Come on," she said, lifting her dress up off the floor and bounding up the steps.

"What's going on?" Eve demanded, bounding behind her.

"I have to get to England and my uncle won't let me leave," Melody explained as they reached the right floor. She turned left and slowed her pace just slightly, and Eve followed.

"Why?" she demanded, and Melody shook her head.

"It's hard to explain, but I'll be damned if I know what it is my uncle has shoved up his butt."

Eve was torn between laughing and frowning, and said nothing as Melody threw open the door to a very large, beautiful bedroom.

"If I leave for New York City now on my broomstick...d'you think I could get there in..." Melody trailed off and looked at Eve, worry etched into her face. "I'm not even sure I know how they get there.

Eve shook her head fervently. "That's insane. You can't make it to New York City on your broomstick. It would be better if you could just Floo there."

Now Melody shook her head. "I can't. My uncle had all his fireplaces disconnected from the Floo network. He's been using Portkeys to get everywhere."

Eve groaned. "It takes days to get Portkeys authorized..."

"I know," Melody said. "So...the broomstick..."

"You can't, Melody. You'll either be found out or killed."

Melody let out a small scream of frustration and then fell onto her bed and buried her face in a pillow. "What am I supposed to do then?" she demanded, her voice muffled. Eve bit her lip and sat on the edge of Melody's bed, cogs spinning in her brain.

"Well..." she began slowly, a thought blooming in her mind. "It takes days to get an authorized Portkey, but...who ever said we can't get an unauthorized one?"

Melody lifted her head from the pillow and gave Eve a look. "Where are we going to get an unauthorized Portkey?"

Eve looked at her steadily, and then crossed the room and picked up one of Melody's shoes, considering. "How do you think?"

"Eve, even if I was positively sure I could put a perfect Portkey spell on one of my shoes, we can't use magic outside of school."

"You can't," Eve corrected her softly, pulling her wand out of her dress robes. "I can."

* * *

Lily hailed a Muggle cab to take her back to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron and thought about everything she'd discussed with the priest, her head spinning. She had a word or two to say to James when she got back to Potter's Cottage.

Unfortunately, by the time the cab made it to the Leaky Cauldron's entrance she'd forgotten most of the words, and Floo-ed pack to Potter's Cottage in a whirl of emotions and forgotten speeches and detached, jumbled thoughts.

She arrived in an empty and mysteriously quiet living room. She hurried to the kitchens--the one place she was sure there would be house-elves--and inquired as to James's location. One of the house-elves squeaked and scurried off, and the rest implored her to have a seat and wait there.

James came hurrying in through the kitchen door less than a minute later, out of breath and highly emotional, and picked Lily up from the chair she was sitting in and squeezed her so hard she thought her lungs would burst.

"James!" Lily cried, gasping for air, and he lessened his hold on her just enough so she could breathe and stand on her own two feet, but other than that she was trapped. Not that this was entirely a bad thing, of course; it was good to smell and feel James again, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest.

"Don't--ever--do--that--again!" James commanded, his voice shaky but relieved.

It struck Lily then how suddenly she'd left, and imagined that had she been in James's place she would have nearly killed herself with worry. "I'm sorry," she whispered, squeezing him. James squeezed her in return, and then kissed the top of her head.

"Come on," he said, letting go of her and taking her hand. "There's something you have to see."

"But--" Lily began to protest, and then gave up as James dragged her rather forcefully down the hallway. She'd been rather enjoying James's protectiveness, and had been quite expecting a real kiss rather than just one on the head, but apparently that was not in James's agenda.

She allowed him to lead her silently, and frowned as they approached his father's office. "James, where are we going?" she asked as he burst in through the door without knocking.

"Here," he replied, a moment too late, and Lily barely registered his words. There were several people in the Minister's office, but she hardly noticed. There was only one person she could focus on.

Lily didn't blink or move for a moment, and then she blinked a lot, trying to convince herself that what she was seeing wasn't a mirage. Her heart beat painfully and erratically inside her chest, and her breathing became short as a large lump rose in her throat.

It can't be, she told herself, but a the same time her eyes were telling her that it was. A cry rose from Lily's throat, and she let go of James's hand and staggered forward a few steps, not wanting anything or anyone else to exist if what if she was seeing was true. Her voice wavered, unsure of itself, as she spoke one sacred, precious, incredible word.

"Mom?"

* * *