Eyes as Green as a Fresh Pickled Toad

Chapter Twenty-One

Giving In

James dashed through the streets of New York. He didn't remember how he'd gotten there and he didn't know where he was going, but he didn't care. He ignored the looks of the people on the sidewalk, ignored the four lanes of traffic that screeched and honked as he dashed across the road, even ignored the two young teenage girls running behind him panting and wheezing and trying desperately to keep up. He forgot that he was wearing only a T-shirt and boxers--but then again, clothes didn't seem all that important. Or warmth, for that matter. James was sure he was freezing--it was starting to snow a little--but he didn't notice. He was so focused on finding Lily that he didn't notice much of anything.

He had no idea where he was, no idea where he was headed, no idea really what was happening to him--all he knew was that if he followed the violent tugging in his gut, he would end up where Lily was, and right now, Lily was all that mattered.

Something terrible had happened to her. Something terrible, but he didn't know what. Death came to mind, but then how could she be dead? If Lily were really dead, what could be pulling him to her? Surely not the necklace. Surely the necklace couldn't work like this. Even if it could, would it work if Lily were dead?

That was not an option James wanted to ponder.

He dashed around the corner of an apartment building and down a side street. He rounded another corner and found himself in an alley behind the apartment building. There was little there except a fire escape and a dumpster, but James headed straight for the dumpster and dashed behind it and saw--

James felt like his stomach had fallen out of his body. Everything had fallen out of his body. There were no innards left, he was just an empty shell and he couldn't do anything but stand there and stare at Lily.

Lily. At least he thought it was Lily. No. It can't...she can't....

Blood pooled underneath her, spreading from a wound in her shoulder. Blood had begun caking on her sweater, but patches of it were still warm and gooey. If Lily was really dead, she hadn't been dead for long.

SHE'S NOT-- James tried to think, but she was. She wasn't drawing breath, and her eyes--those beautiful sparkling emerald green eyes--were blank, glassy and cold and unfocused and just as dead as the rest of her. James squeezed his eyes shut, but he couldn't get Lily's eyes out of his mind. There they were, alive and animated--narrowed at James in a vicious sort of glare, the vivid green sparking at him in anger (that had been the first time he kissed her, he thought)--then gazing at him sad, lonely (one of their conversations on the rooftop, maybe)--then sparkling in unbelievable jewel-like bliss (their reunion after Auror training)--then, that last time, staring at him wide and frightened, a quivering, fresh pickled toad-like green that was hesitant, scared, afraid to take the leap. That had been when James told her he loved her.

James's eyes began to burn, prickling heavily with tears, and he opened them again to look down at Lily. For a moment he thought he saw her eyes spark with recognition once more, but he was wrong. Maybe it was just a trick of the light in front of his blurry vision--or maybe, more simply, it was just a trick of his imagination. Because the next time James blinked, tears trickled out of his eyes and along his cheeks and his vision cleared, and he could see those green eyes again, glassy and cold and un-alive.

The Lily that James knew--the bright, beautiful girl he'd fallen in love with--she was gone. But her body lay there in the alley behind the dumpster, and seeing it made something inside James fall apart.

"Lily," James whispered, but it was no ordinary whisper. It was tight and hoarse and barely audible--his throat was closing up, his eyes were burning, his heart was swelling--and he fell to his knees just in time for Lin and Bridget to circle around the dumpster and see him do so, his hands shaking madly, his heart pounding out painful new rhythms against his ribs. Bridget and Lin just stood behind him, frozen, gaping, terrified and shocked and too baffled to say anything.

"LILY," James said again, but this time he screamed it, and leaned over to pull Lily's body into his arms. Her broken, mangled arm flopped uselessly against him. The sight of that pathetic, bloodied mess burst whatever bubble of self-restraint he had left, and his body began jerking in uncontrollable sobs. "Lily," he said again, more softly, cradling her head in his right hand. The necklace shimmered dimly around her neck, and he curled his fingers around it, with every intention of yanking the damned thing off and Banishing it to Siberia if he had to, because a fat lot of good it was doing protecting Lily--

and he promptly collapsed, dragging Lily's body back down with him as he slumped over onto the ground.

Lily hovered somewhere outside of consciousness. Her vision fluttered. It wasn't her eyelids, exactly, that fluttered, it was--something else. She thought she saw, in brief glimpses, images of her own body strewn out in an alley alongside a dumpster. For one second, she thought she saw herself lying there dead. But in the next second, she was consumed by blackness, and her mind went dead again, and she thought and saw and knew nothing.

She didn't know how long she fluttered like that--brief snatches of sight and thought in between long dark stretches of nothing--before her fluttering sight picked up images of James. She wanted to call out to him, to tell him that she was still there somewhere--that she wasn't totally lost--but she couldn't. In those fleeting moments when she saw his figure bent over hers, she couldn't draw the breath to say anything, and in those moments when blackness took her, she couldn't find the strength to drag herself from the nothingness enough to even register his touch.

Perhaps she was dying after all.

But no--then, there, in one brief fluttering image she saw James lean over and grab her, pull her up from her place on the cold concrete, and through the layers of darkness holding her mind hostage she thought she faintly felt his fingers brush her head. And then his hand traveled down toward her neck and suddenly the fluttering images stopped, and Lily was consumed by darkness and she didn't know any more.

Lin stared at Lily and James and felt her insides--so deprived and empty already--become even more hollow. Her eyes widened and her irises darkened and she stared at the two bodies, entwined and motionless and collapsed on the ground. She felt the whole scene practically burning itself into her eyeballs. She considered closing her eyes, but then the image of Lily and James would just be burned into her eyelids instead, and every time she closed her eyes she wouldn't be able to get away from it. It was just like one of her nightmares, like one of her all-consuming, exhausting, gruesome bloody visions, except--except that this was one she wouldn't wake up from. This was one she could not escape, no matter how loudly she screamed or how far she ran or how long she stood in this alley wishing for things to change.

She couldn't bring herself to do anything. What, she thought, was there for her to do?

Lily was clearly dead. Lin had seen enough death to know what it felt like. Lily just felt dead. Not that Lin was touching her, of course, but death, in a sense, wasn't exactly something you saw. You could see a dead body, but to register that the body was really dead was more than just a realization of whether or not it had a pulse. It was the acceptance that the person the body belonged to was gone. When someone was dead, they were dead. You just...knew.

So Lin stood there silently, accepting, feeling a small piece of her heart die with each second that passed, and began to wonder how many more people would have to die before anyone would be willing to stand up and fight against it.

Because this wasn't death from natural causes. Lily had been attacked--attacked and murdered, and Lin, despite Lily's bloodied arm, did not think her assault was by a Muggle. There wasn't nearly enough blood for her to have bled to death, and when was the last time someone had died because of a broken arm?

You-Know-Who was involved. He had to be. All of Lin's dreams and visions were about his victims. Not that all of her dreams were this astoundingly accurate, but she thought they at least counted for something.

Bridget, on the other hand, was not so jaded, nor so plagued by gruesome visions, and she reacted as any normal teenage girl might have reacted.

She screamed herself into hysterics.

Her screams echoed so violently off the walls that Lin was dragged out of her stupor, and she stared at Bridget in alarm before attempting to clamp her hand over the girl's mouth.

But Bridget couldn't be stopped. Her arms were flailing now, her feet prancing about of their own accord--Lin couldn't get her to stand still long enough to stop her--Bridget's self-control completely evaporated and her shrieks and whimpers filled the otherwise desolate alley with a kind of desperate fear that Lin, though terrified herself, could not bring herself to feel. Lin didn't know if she felt fear anymore; mostly she just felt pain.

Bridget, as usual, could not help attracting attention. More than one person stuck his head out a window to yell at her to shut up, but only one man succeeded in actually silencing the screaming girl--a young man with dark hair, an Italian accent, and a magic wand.

The silence was immediate and profound. Bridget's arms flailed about for a few more moments before she realized what happened, and then her hands flew to her mouth, and she whirled around, glancing up and down the alley and then up the fire escape, where she saw a young Italian man descending the steps quickly. She was so furious she attempted to yell at him, but all this did was make her face turn a rather interesting shade of purple. Lin stared as the young man strode over to Bridget, grasped her firmly by the shoulders, and shook her once, furiously. Bridget stopped trying to scream at him long enough for her face to return to a more normal color, and then the young man said, "What is the meaning of this?"

Bridget tried to answer, but then remembered she couldn't, and this infuriated her again. She shoved the young man away and glared at him, pointing to her throat and stomping her foot on the ground demandingly.

"I'm not giving your voice back until I'm sure you're not going to yell at me," he informed her, and turned to Lin. "What is the meaning of this?" he repeated, but Lin couldn't speak either. She just pointed, numbly, behind the dumpster. The young Italian man strode over to the dumpster, expecting to see a few dead rats, or maybe even a dead dog--but either of those he could have handled. Either of those would not have made his face turn ashen white, or caused him to lose his senses so much that he pulled out his wand without thinking and cast weightlessness spells on the two bodies, lifting them carefully into the air with magic.

"We need to get them to Mama. No one else will be able to heal them better."

Lin nodded dumbly and began following him up the fire escape, watching as he carefully guided the floating bodies of Lily and James up the stairs as well. Bridget, who was full of opinions, stomped after them, and made as much noise stomping up the fire escape as she possibly could, hoping for the young man to notice so that she could demand he give her voice back again and she could tell him just exactly what she thought of him and his Mama.

But the young man didn't turn around, didn't even acknowledge Bridget's presence until long after they had all climbed through the window to his family's apartment and presented the bodies of Lily and James to his mother.

"Here, have some wine. It will make you feel better."

Bridget looked up from her place by the fire and accepted the glass from Paolo's mother. Paolo, as it turned out, was the name of the Italian boy who'd saved Lily and James. At least, Bridget assumed they'd been saved--she hadn't seen either of them for over an hour, since she and Lin had entered the apartment behind Paolo and he'd whisked them off to a bedroom, where they'd been locked in and frantically attended to for the better part of that hour. Now everyone was just...waiting.

Lin declined the glass of wine that Paolo's mother offered, and turned her head back to the fire, her dark eyes introspective and faraway as usual. Bridget briefly considered asking what she was thinking about, but decided there was no point, as Lin's answers to this type of question were usually cryptic at best.

Paolo's mother took a seat next to the girls, her own glass of wine in hand.

"It is lucky that you are witches. I can't imagine what my son was thinking, pulling that wand out in front of you." Mama--which Paolo's mother insisted was the way she wanted to be addressed by the girls--shook her head. "It is also lucky that you are such a good screamer," she said, grinning at Bridget. "I can't think of any other sound that could have dragged my son from his sleep." Bridget's cheeks began to burn, and she grinned a little, looking embarrassed.

"I wasn't sleeping, Mama." Paolo emerged from the bedroom. "Though even if I was, I doubt I would have been able to sleep through that noise."

Bridget's cheeks were bright red now, and she turned her face toward the fire, hoping the glow of the flames would hide some of her embarrassment.

"We are only teasing. It is a good thing that you reacted how you did. Otherwise you might never have been able to save them."

Lin lifted her gaze from the fireplace. "Do you really think they can be saved?" she whispered, almost demandingly. "Didn't you see them? Aren't they dead?"

Mama frowned, and shifted a little in her chair. Bridget understood her discomfort. It was unsettling, sometimes, to look into Lin's eyes, too old and dark and troubled for her small, youthful face. Lin had a way of absolute conviction about her--about some things, anyway. Her convictions had nothing to do with boys or fashion or Ancient Runes homework, but rather life. And death. Mostly death, Bridget thought.

"The boy was nowhere close to dead," Mama began. "He was just--" she looked at Paolo for the appropriate word.

"Passed out," Paolo offered.

"Si. Gratzi. Now he is sleeping. Though I think when he wakes up, he will have the worst cold. I don't know what he was thinking, running around with no pants on."

"I think you two might have made him wear something more sensible, eh?" Paolo directed at Bridget and Lin.

"We didn't exactly have a lot of time to plan our wardrobe. We were trying to save somebody from murder," Lin said flatly, and Bridget looked at her in surprise.

"Is that what you think happened to the girl?" Mama asked.

"I know it is," Lin said, turning her dark gaze away from Paolo.

Mama was surprised for a moment. "Well, she is not dead."

"Not anymore, you mean."

Mama looked even more puzzled. "She was never dead."

"Yes she was. I saw her."

Mama looked more concerned than puzzled now. "I'm sure what you saw was--hard to see. I know how upset it must have made you. But to bring someone back from the dead--this is something I cannot do."

"Well then perhaps you weren't the one who did it."

Everyone just stared at Lin for a moment. Bridget wished she would stop talking like that. It was disturbing and too confusing to think about right now, now when all Bridget wanted to do was be relieved that Lily and James were going to be okay. She and Lin should have been happy--no, ecstatic--that Lily and James were going to be all right--should have been demanding to go and see them, to make sure--

But no, instead they were sitting here and Lin was prattling on about how dead Lily was, about how she must have been dead--how if she was alive now, that didn't necessarily mean she wasn't dead before, and Bridget--well, frankly Bridget didn't want to hear it.

If Lily was alive, what did it matter how dead she'd looked in the alley? Because Lin was right about one thing--Lily certainly had looked dead when they'd come upon her behind the dumpster. And Lin had so much more experience with this sort of thing than Bridget...Bridget had to believe that Lin knew what she was talking about. But at the same time, did Lin have to be so goddamn morbid?

"It doesn't matter," Bridget snapped, and Lin's head whirled to face hers.

"What do you mean, it doesn't matter?"

"If Lily's alive now, then she's alive. If she were dead, she would be dead, but she's not, so I think we should stop talking about it."

"Are you saying you don't believe me? I know what I saw."

"I didn't say that! I'm just saying that there's no point thinking or arguing about it right now. We should just be glad they're both alive and they're going to be all right."

Lin frowned, but she appeared to be retreating from her dark, morbid lines of thought.

"She is right," Mama agreed, sounding a little relieved. "We should not think too much on these things. Please, just sit--rest. Eat if you are hungry. I will fix you anything."

"I'm fine," Lin said softly, and her gaze slid over to the fireplace once more. "When can we see them?" she managed, from underneath her thoughts.

"Tomorrow," Mama promised. "After you sleep. Though I do not think they will be awake just yet."

"You can sleep there," Paolo interjected, nodding at Lin, who was sitting on the end of a couch. "And you--" he pulled out his wand again and muttered a spell, causing the big red armchair Bridget was camped out in to stretch into an equally comfortable couch, "--can sleep there."

Bridget smiled a bit halfheartedly in response, and Paolo conjured up two blankets for the girls. "Do not dwell on your thoughts," he advised. "Sleep would be better. You can always think in the morning."

Yes, Bridget agreed, curling up and closing her eyes, unless one night you go to sleep and never wake up again.

She didn't want to turn morbid like Lin, but she couldn't help thinking of death. She didn't want to admit it, but when she closed her eyes and thought of the scene in the alley--of Lily, with James slumped over her, and all that blood--she was still terrified.

And she didn't think she'd be sleeping well at all that night.

Melody awoke to an insistent knocking on her door. "Mmph," she grunted, rolling over and burying her face in her pillow. The knocking was faint but persistent, and she thought she vaguely heard the sound of someone calling out her name. The knocking continued. Why was it so faint? Melody wondered. Since when had her bedroom door gotten that far away?

Then she realized. It wasn't the door to her bedroom, it was the door to her suite. Her suite! Melody was still in the hotel. She was still in London, still with her bastard uncle, still with the shiver-inducing Lucifer Malfoy--and not shivering in a good way, either, not like Sirius made her shiver, but shivering in a cold, scared, malicious sort of--

"Oh, bollocks, Sirius!"

Melody rolled out of bed and dashed across her bedroom, ripping open her door and flying around the corner and to the door of her suite, which she pulled open hastily, only to find--

Nothing.

"Damn it," Melody swore, and poked her head out the door, swiveling it around for a glimpse of her boyfriend. "Sirius!" she called, having spotted him near the end of the hallway. It took a couple more tries before he actually heard her--she was trying not to attract too much attention to herself, considering her inappropriate state of dress (although considering all the noise Sirius had been making trying to wake her up, she doubted her own shouts and bangs would make much of a difference)--and when he did, he managed to look both pleased and annoyed.

His initial reaction was happiness--Melody could see his grin, even this far away--but then he seemed to remember that he'd spent the last twenty minutes banging on her door trying to wake her up with no success, and he immediately changed his sloppy grin to a look of annoyance.

"I'm supposed to be saying good-bye to you," he hissed, striding back to her door.

"I'm sorry," Melody said, trying to sound like she meant it. She did mean it, of course, but often when she was still sleepy she wasn't very good at putting expression in her voice.

Sirius stopped in front of her. "I only have half an hour left!"

"That's all? That's pathetic! Why didn't you come and wake me up earlier?"

Sirius just stared at her.

"All right, fine, never mind that. Just--come in. I'll fix you breakfast." Melody headed for the kitchen.

"I've already had breakfast," Sirius informed her, following.

"Have you? How splendid. Then I guess I'll just fix myself breakfast."

"No, don't. I'll make you breakfast." Sirius put a hand on her shoulder and steered her toward the table. Melody shrugged and plopped down in a chair.

"If you insist."

Sirius grinned. "And I do." He straightened up suddenly, clapping his hands together briskly and motioning to imaginary people. "Come come, we have wairk to do!" he said, putting on a preposterously bad French accent. "Ze chef must wairk his magique on ze breakfast selection of ouair most admirabulle 'ostess."

Melody managed to laugh and roll her eyes all at once.

"Come now, mademoiselle, what would you prefer from ouair grhhand kisshon?"

"Your kisshon?"

"Our kitchen, if you inseest on putting it in...Eeenglish terms." Sirius said, bending over in a condescending manner to get his eyes on the same level as Melody's.

Melody flipped her hair over her shoulder and put on her most affected accent. "Well, as an English lady belonging to the proper sort of English courts--and with all the blue blood you could ever hope to have, you know--I believe that diction is the single most important thing a young man or woman could hope to accomplish, and that proper pronunciation of the English language is something that everyone in the world--no matter their race or native language, my dear--must strrrive to achieve!"

Sirius blinked slowly and pretended to flick a bit of spittle off his cheek. "Yes," he said, still maintaining the horrible French accent. "Well, we all must have ouair flaws." He clapped again, turning toward the empty kitchen. "Come now, Philippe! Gaston! Man ze stove, get me my special cutting knife! Chop chop!"

"A stove and a cutting knife. Whatever are you going to feed me, my dear?"

"Whoevair said anyssing about feeding you?"

"I thought I was your 'admirabulle 'ostess.'"

"Ah yes," Sirius said, stroking his chin in contemplation. "Well, zat does put a dampair on ouair plans for a sacrificial ceremon-ee, but pairhaps we can...wairk around zis...minor inconvenience."

"Yes, perhaps you'd better wairk around it," Melody agreed, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at him.

"All right zen. Philippe! Gaston! Change of plans. Ze lady would like--a piece of toast!"

"A piece of toast? Oh how very generous," Melody said flatly.

"Ze artiste 'as no time to wairk. You must cut 'im a leetle slack, OK?" Sirius stared back at her and tapped on his watch, and Melody sighed, feeling guilty for sleeping so long.

"Butter and marmalade will be fine, thank you, Sirius."

"Ah, but my name zis houair is not Sirius! Zere are no wairld-famous French chefs named Sirius, are zere? I ssink not!"

"Oh? Then what, pray tell, is your name?"

"Why, it is Sebastian, of course!"

"Of course," Melody said, rolling her eyes again.

"Sebastian Fairmay Labuche, to be exact!"

Melody couldn't help laughing. "You're such a ninny. Just make some toast, why don't you?"

"Ze greatest chef in all of France does not appreciate being treated in zis most un-'ospitable mannair!"

"Well, tell ze greatest chef in all of France that if he ever happens to show up here, I'll be sure and be more cordial to him than I am to his cheap imitation."

Sirius changed quickly from play-acting to sulking. "Fine," he said, "but see if plain old Sirius Black butters your toast as well as the greatest chef in all of France." He dropped several pieces of bread in the toaster and pushed down the lever.

Melody shook her head. "I'd take toast made by Sirius Black over toast made by the greatest chef in France any day."

Sirius was not very good at pretending to sulk. A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth. "Really now?"

"Mm," Melody agreed, rising from the table. "Besides, the greatest chef in France is probably horrible at making toast. He's too busy cooking snails and lobsters and...things." She walked over and leaned on the counter next to Sirius.

"Yeah," Sirius agreed, slipping an arm around Melody's waist. "Probably has some menial assistant to make all the toast for him. Probably hasn't even touched the stuff in years."

"Yes well, toast is very menial I suppose. Is that why you're making it for me?" Melody tilted her head to the side, grinning. "To show me how menial you think I am?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm making it because I plan to steal some at the very first opportunity. I have a massive craving for marmalade on toast."

"Oh, really? Well then," Melody said, attempting to remove Sirius's arm from her waist, "that changes things a bit, doesn't it?"

"Does it?" Sirius asked.

Melody stepped away from the counter to try to squirm out of Sirius's grip, but he just wrapped his other arm around her waist instead. "That's not fair," she informed him, still squirming. Sirius grinned.

"No," he disagreed, "what wouldn't be fair is if I started tickling you."

Melody froze long enough to glare at him. "Don't you dare. This morning's going to be bad enough already without you going around tickling me."

"What's wrong with tickling? And, for that matter, what's wrong with this morning?"

"Well, first of all, tickling is just rude," Melody informed him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "And secondly, not only do I have to say good-bye to you this morning, I also have to go and see Lucifer Malfoy." She wrinkled up her nose. "Won't that be...fun."

Sirius frowned. "Lucifer Malfoy. What does he want?"

Melody shrugged and turned away from him. "Who knows?"

Sirius let her slip from his arms and frowned at her further. Melody walked away and stood at the edge of the kitchen area, where smooth tile gave way to plush carpeting, and stared across the living room to the large picture window. Light poured in and lit up the frizzy hairs haloed around Melody's hair, unbrushed and unkempt and unusual. This was not how she would look in two hours when she presented herself to Lucifer Malfoy. This was not how she would let herself look in front of her uncle, or Catalina, or the rest of the sniveling, fake-smiling people who thought they knew her.

But for Sirius...for Sirius, Melody could look any way she wanted to. She turned back around slowly and regarded him, his concern, his caring. She smiled limply.

"I'll miss you," she said.

Sirius looked like he had a question forming on his lips, but he halted it. "It won't be for so long." He walked over to her and took one of her hands.

"Just a week," Melody agreed. "But what will New Year's be without a kiss from you?" A sly grin spread across her face.

Sirius caught on quickly. "Well, we could always stock up now..." He tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear and leaned in for a kiss.

Melody's toast popped up, and they both jumped, jerking apart.

"Damn toast," Sirius muttered, and settled for placing a kiss on Melody's cheek before going over to retrieve it.

Melody took a seat at the table and watched Sirius bustle around the kitchen, looking semi-domestic as he buttered and spread marmalade on her toast. Sirius presented the toast to her--on a plate and with a napkin, even--and then glanced at his watch.

"Well, I don't want to rush you, but if you want any kind of decent...good-bye...from me, you should probably hurry."

"I could just let the toast go cold...but what a shame that would be, after all the hard work you put into it." Melody had stopped caring about the toast, but Sirius looked disappointed at the suggestion that she might not want to eat it, so she bit into a piece as enthusiastically as she could--at least, as enthusiastically as anyone could bite into a piece of toast.

She was still hitting herself over the head mentally for mentioning Lucifer Malfoy. The thought of going to see him had taken away the best of her appetite, and thinking about her uncle and her fakeness had taken away even more. And then to think about Sirius...well, that just made her stomach twist in guilt, and with every bite she took, the toast looked less and less appealing.

How could she be doing this to Sirius? Sirius, who never withheld anything from her. Sirius, who was willing to spend twenty minutes banging on the door of his girlfriend's hotel room just to make her toast. Sirius, heir to a large fortune. Doesn't he have a right to know everything?

He knew Melody was keeping something from him. He'd accepted her lies about her uncle, but that didn't mean he believed them. And Melody was tired of keeping secrets, tired of keeping this whole damn fake world to herself, tired of worrying about betraying her feelings toward Sirius because of how Lucifer Malfoy might react. The thought of going to see him made her stomach twist further, and she put down her piece of toast.

"What's the matter? Too much marmalade?"

Sirius was joking, but he sounded concerned. Concerned about Melody's toast? Maybe. Concerned about the look on her face? More likely. Melody looked up and met his gaze, and she just...had to say something. But what she blurted out wasn't quite what she'd meant to.

"My uncle saw us."

"What?"

"The other night. Kissing. In the cloak room--he saw us."

"Oh. Looking for pointers, was he?" Sirius wiggled his eyebrows and grinned cheekily.

"He wasn't very happy about it."

"Yes, well, unfortunately for him, it's not really his business, is it?"

Melody shifted in her chair and picked at the crust on her toast. "No...no, I guess not."

Sirius's eyes narrowed. "Melody, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," she mumbled, but Sirius kept staring at her. Melody continued picking at her toast, now ripping off chunks of crust and crumbling them onto her plate. Sirius grabbed her hands to make her stop.

"Melody, please look at me. What's the matter?"

Melody glanced up at him, but then stared down at her plate. She couldn't handle the force of the gaze or its directness. He made her just want to...tell him everything, and she couldn't do that. If she did, he'd hate her. He'd think she was only with him for his money. And that wasn't it. Wasn't.

Sirius squeezed her hands gently. Melody looked up at him again, slowly. Sirius's brown eyes tore into her, and she couldn't hold back any more.

"I owe him lots of money."

"What? Who, your uncle?"

Melody nodded, and bit back tears. "So much money. Or--I did. I--I don't know, Sirius, I'm not really sure what's going on. I just know that I'm in so much debt, and if I can't see you anymore, I don't know what I'll do with myself."

"Wait--what?"

Tears spilled out of Melody's eyes, and before she knew what was happening, she was sobbing onto Sirius's shoulder.

Melody spilled the beans. She couldn't help herself. She hadn't meant to tell him everything, but she couldn't hold it in anymore. She just needed everything out in the open.

Well--almost everything. She left out a few piddly little details, like Lucifer Malfoy wanting to marry her and her secret hope that Sirius's fortune (or his parents' fortune, anyway) might help get her out of debt.

They were sitting on the couch, Melody with a pile of tissues beside her and Sirius with an arm around her shoulders.

"Let me get this straight," he said, turning so he could look her in the eye. "So your uncle paraded you around because he was losing money, and he was hoping to marry you off to some rich bastard."

Melody nodded.

"And then he spent all that money on you and blew his fortune even faster."

Another nod.

"And then when all his money was basically gone, he came back and blamed you for it and demanded that you repay him, even though he was fully aware that there was no way in hell that you could do so, and he really just wanted to use you as a pawn to marry someone, like he planned all along, only he finally clued you into it and demanded that you cooperate or else he would...do something to your family."

Melody blew her nose in affirmation.

"But he never told you what he was going to do to your family?"

Melody shrugged. "The threats were a little vague. But--you should have seen him, Sirius, he...he would've done whatever he had to."

"And you believed him so much that you started hawking the fake watches with Mundungus?"

"Well...yeah."

"And you thought that would have been good enough to repay him?"

"No, but--Sirius, I had to do something!"

"You could've told us. You didn't think your friends would have been able to help you?"

"Sirius, none of you have that kind of money!"

"I do. James does. Furthermore, James's dad is the Minister. There's no way anything Hans was trying to make you do was legal--you had no obligations to him whatsoever, and furthermore if he was making threats--why are you shaking your head?"

"Think about it, Sirius. Hans would've denied it. What he was doing wasn't legal exactly, but it wasn't really illegal either, was it? Personal debts don't have to be drawn up on paper. And he never actually did anything to my family so there's nothing there to prosecute him with either. Besides--don't you think the Minister has other things to worry about besides some stupid little girl and her uncle?"

Sirius stared at her. "It doesn't sound quite as simple as all that."

"Well, it doesn't matter, because it's over now."

"Is it, Melody? Is it really?"

Now Melody was going to have to lie. "Yes, Sirius. Look, I told you. Hans put it all in the hands of Lucifer Malfoy."

"But he was trying to marry you off to the guy."

"I never said that! I said he wanted to marry me off to somebody. He didn't say anything about Lucifer specifically."

Melody could swallow this guilt. It was such a relief to have everything else off her chest that this little bit didn't matter. And maybe she wouldn't have to marry Lucifer anyway. Yeah, and maybe Sirius will turn into a pink and purple-spotted toad and live with Moaning Myrtle in her toilet.

Sirius stared her down. "So Hans just sold off all his stuff and...decided he doesn't care anymore? He just...took everything back?"

"I wouldn't say he took it all back. I would say that he finally remembered my father was his brother, and that maybe he owed him something. Owed me something. But he also knew it would be too little too late. Nothing he can do now would change anything."

"Because...Malfoy is in control of everything?"

"All of Hans's assets, yes."

"And what is Malfoy getting from all of this?"

"He's getting Hans."

"I didn't know he swung that way."

Melody let out a bark of laughter. "I meant all of Hans's connections. His...debt of gratitude."

"Gratitude? Are you sure that's the word for it?"

"I don't know...involuntary servitude, maybe? Does it really matter?"

"I don't know. You really think...you really think it's all over?"

Melody shrugged. "I'd assume so. I've dined with Lucifer several times, and he never mentioned any--"

"You dined with him? What do you mean, you dined with him?"

"I mean he invited me over for dinner, and--"

"For dinner? You went to his house?"

"Yes, Sirius. Why, what's so wrong with that?"

"But he's--he's--he's a Malfoy!"

"So what? He's not that bad, he's just...a little different. Older. More...sophisticated."

"He's a Malfoy. He has motives."

"Not everyone has motives, Sirius."

"People like Lucifer Malfoy do."

"Can we stop talking about Lucifer Malfoy now?"

"Why? Does it bother you to talk about him?"

"No. I just...would rather not talk about this anymore."

"You're the one who brought it up."

"Would you prefer that I kept everything from you?" Melody demanded, swiping another tissue from the nearly empty box.

"No. But you could have told me sooner."

"We've been over this, Sirius. You couldn't have done anything. And now everything's worked itself out, so...it's over. And I can just relax and...we can be together. No more of these silly parties, no more ridiculous lies."

I am SO full of shit.

"Are you sure?"

Melody blew her nose one last time. "Of course I'm sure."

"Then why aren't you looking at me?"

Melody forced her head up and stared him in the eye. Don't screw this up. "I'm sure," she told him. That part was easy. The hard part was staring Sirius down for the next minute without blurting out the truth again.

"Then why," Sirius said slowly, "does Lucifer Malfoy want to see you again?"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin, Sirius!" Melody exploded, breaking off her gaze. "Look, he might be a Malfoy, and he might not be the most...enjoyable...person in the world, but he invited me to lunch several days ago, when I thought I still had all these obligations, and I agreed to go. So I'm going to go and get it over with, and then...figure out how to leave London, I guess."

"Just come with me. Come with me right now. We can leave together, Lucifer Malfoy doesn't matter."

Melody frowned down at her pile of tissues. "Sirius, that would be rude."

"Rude? Who cares about being rude? He's a Malfoy."

Melody managed to glare at him and veil her agreement. "I still owe him something, Sirius. He got me out of this situation--whether or not he intended to. I can at least be courteous."

"Courteous? Are you sure that's all?"

"For Merlin's sake, Sirius, it's not like I'm going to marry the guy or anything."

Ooh, nice delivery. You should be an actress Melody, really. You're such an effective little liar when you need to be.

Shut up, Melody told herself. This conversation was starting to drive her crazy.

"I'm twenty minutes late to meet my parents," Sirius said.

"You should go then," Melody said, and turned away completely. She gathered up her tissues and walked over to the kitchen to throw them away. Sirius followed her.

"And you should come with me," he said.

Melody sighed and stared down into the trash can. Maybe she should just jump in there with the tissues and get carried off with the garbage. That certainly would be a unique way of running away from your problems.

But she couldn't run away from Sirius, any more than she could run away with him.

"I can't," she said softly, and turned around. "But I'll be home soon. I promise. And I'll owl you as soon as I get out of here."

Sirius did not look pleased. "I don't understand why you don't want to leave. There's no reason for you to stay."

"Damn it, Sirius, I already told you! I have one more obligation to fulfill, and then that's it. That's all. I don't have to come back unless I want to, and--maybe I will want to," she finished softly. There, that's something. Give yourself a little leeway in case Lucifer Malfoy asks you back. "It's not all bad, after all. The parties can actually be quite...stunning."

"Oh, yes, stunning. I can tell how stunned you were by Duke Asbury's lecture on newt extract the other night." Sirius made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "You know what Melody, you can lie and simper all you want to all those other society idiots, but you need to stop lying to me." Sirius turned toward the door.

"I'm not lying to you!" Melody cried, dashing across the kitchen to catch his hand. Sirius's head jerked back around and he narrowed his eyes at her, staring at her like he wanted to peel away the layers of flesh holding her secrets so he could see the truth in her mind. Melody swallowed and grasped Sirius's other hand in hers, lacing her fingers together with his. "Sirius, I want nothing more than to be with you. But I have to try to finish things here, otherwise they'll never be finished."

Sirius stared at her for a long minute, searching her face for...for what? Some sign of betrayal, maybe? Some hint of a lie?

But she wasn't lying--not about wanting to be with Sirius. The other stuff she decided to pretend she hadn't said. It would be easier for her to be convincing that way.

Sirius stared at her a little longer, and then squinted his eyes suddenly, as though he'd just thought of something.

"Why did you decide you wanted to go out with me?"

"What?"

"What made you decide to corner me on Halloween? What changed?"

"I--I don't know. I just couldn't stand seeing you and Mimi together." Melody's gaze slid away from his. "I mean...I already told you all this."

"Yeah, but--from what I understand, you were convinced your uncle was going to marry you off to some rich bastard, right? You didn't think you were off the hook until recently. So why the change of mind? Why was it suddenly a good idea to want to be with me?"

Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.

Thankfully, while Melody's brain was busy freaking out, her emotions (along with a little help from the part of her primitive mind that she liked to call the Bullshit-O-Matic) took control of her mouth.

"I've always wanted to be with you! I just--I just couldn't handle lying anymore."

"But you were still lying about this. Who says all that wasn't a lie too?"

"Sirius, how I feel about you is not a lie." She squeezed his hands and stared up at him, sincerity oozing from her very being. (At least--she hoped it was.)

"Yeah, but your feelings for me weren't enough for you to want to be with me last summer, so why did things suddenly change around Halloween?"

"Because I couldn't take it anymore! Because I was sick of listening to my uncle. Because I couldn't stand seeing you with another girl--I don't know, Sirius, there were a lot of reasons."

"So my parents' money just had...nothing to do with it."

Melody's throat dried up. "Sirius," she rasped. Her brain exploded in panic. Her heart fluttered to a stop in her rib cage. She was so dead. She couldn't function. She didn't know what to do. Her Bullshit-O-Matic took over entirely. "When have I asked you for so much as a dime?"

"You mean except for the cheese fries in Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah, okay, besides those."

"And the Fizzing Whizbees?"

"Well, those certainly don't cou--"

"And the Dungbombs?"

"Okay! I get it. I've asked you for stuff. But really, Sirius--what girlfriend doesn't beg her boyfriend to buy her things?"

Sirius considered this. "I don't know. I'm not saying I minded. I'm just saying...Melody, I want you to be honest with me. I can understand if you were feeling desperate. I understand that you felt like your uncle was going to hurt your family and that you wanted to get money, and I'm still mad that you didn't just tell me from the beginning. But Melody...if my family's money had anything to do with you wanting to be with me, I want to know. I just need to know if...if it was in spite of your uncle that you wanted to be with me, or if it was because of him."

Melody couldn't handle this. She couldn't handle Sirius thinking that he wasn't enough for her. That she'd wanted something more from him. She couldn't handle him being angrier with her than he already was.

She looked down at their intertwined hands, and then back up at Sirius's face. God, she loved to look at him. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind without even thinking. "Sirius, I'm in love with you."

Sirius blinked and took this in, taking a minute to process before speaking.

"I know," he said finally.

Melody couldn't help feeling a little indignant. Couldn't he at least say something back? Of course she realized that she'd already said this to him, kind of--on Halloween she'd told him she loved him, hadn't she? But the thing was--Sirius hadn't actually said this back to her yet. She kept hoping he would. This kind of seemed like the right moment. Any moment would be the right moment.

"But Melody...just because you love someone doesn't mean you can't hurt them. It doesn't mean you can't deceive them or use them or--"

Melody put her fingers on his lips. "Stop it. I wanted to be with you because I needed you. If all I wanted was your parents' money, don't you think I would have mentioned it by now?"

Melody's lies were getting so good she was almost starting to believe herself. And maybe they aren't really lies. She had wanted to be with him, for...ever, it seemed like. She'd wanted to be with him last summer, too, but she hadn't because she was trying to protect him. She hadn't wanted to give Hans another target--someone else's well-being to threaten her with. And then, in the fall, when she'd stumbled across a reason to be with him--an excuse, really--when she'd realized that Hans needed her, that he wasn't just being a bastard for bastard's sake.... She'd taken that small amount of justification to take her future into her own hands. And if Melody had any kind of say in her own future, no matter how small, then Sirius had to be a part of it. Maybe it wasn't really about the money. Maybe it really had been about him from the beginning.

Sirius seemed to accept this, but he still didn't look like he wanted to let her off the hook. "But you're still staying."

Melody sighed. "Sirius, we've been over this. I have to stay. And you--you have to go meet your parents. You're almost an hour late now," she noted, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Fine," Sirius agreed, and he pulled his hands away from Melody's. Without so much as a word or a kiss good-bye, he turned and walked out the door.

Bellatrix's arm burned.

Her head felt like it was filled with a gurgling cauldron, her eyelids like they'd been shut with a Sealing spell. She was so groggy she could barely roll over in bed. But no, perhaps groggy was not the right word. Perhaps catatonic was more appropriate.

Her arm burned, it tingled, it swelled. She groaned and rubbed her hand over it, trying to make it go away, but all that did was make it burn and itch. Then it throbbed and stung, and it pulled her from sleep.

She forced her eyes open, crusty though they were for lack of sleep, and fumbled on the nightstand for her wand. She managed to make sense of the hands on her clock and moaned. 12:05. It was barely past noon. She'd been asleep for an hour, and home for not much longer than that.

Siegfried was...well, she didn't know where Siegfried was. She wasn't sure she cared.

She managed to Summon her Death Eater mask and a pair of clean robes from across the room. The burning on her arm intensified, and the pain propelled her out of bed and compelled her to change.

The action exhausted her. She stared longingly at her bed again, and then cried out as her Dark Mark throbbed once more. She forced herself to whirl around once, and then, with a pop!, she vanished.

Molly Havernaugh was befuddled. Her cousin Lily had vanished sometime last night after getting up to go to the bathroom, but exactly how she'd done so was puzzling. The Havernaughs' apartment was on the eighth floor and the fire escape was accessible only through the living room, where everyone had been sitting watching a movie when Lily disappeared, and since no one had seen Lily come in and climb onto the fire escape, it seemed unlikely that she exited through a window. And the front door--well, it certainly wasn't out of the question that she'd left that way, but she would have had to come back down the staircase to do that, and since the staircase was perfectly visible from the living your, you'd think that someone would have noticed her leaving.

Molly's parents called the police, but the cops said that since Lily hadn't been missing for twenty-four hours, there wasn't anything they could do. Lily's mother was practically in hysterics, and Molly's parents had insisted that she stay in the building while they and Molly went out to comb the neighborhood for some sign of Lily.

But they found nothing. And now, twelve hours later, Lily was still missing, the police still couldn't help, and Lily's mother was still distraught, splayed out on the couch watching daytime TV with a carton of Ben & Jerry's ice cream cradled in her arm. Molly's parents were afraid that if they let her out of the apartment she would get lost and hysterical again, searching for Lily--either that or she'd come back with the entire inventory of the Haagen-Dasz down the street in tow.

Molly slipped on her coat and headed for the front door. The sight of Lily's mom was starting to depress her, and besides, she needed to sneak a smoke. She didn't consider herself a smoker, but every so often she needed a drag.

I hope Lily miraculously reappears. She leaned against the side of the elevator and stared at the glowing numbers above the doors as she descended. She thought of Mrs. Evans strung out on the couch upstairs. For her mother's sake, if for nothing else.

James woke up gradually. He drifted easily and peacefully out of sleep, and when he finally rolled over in bed and opened his eyes, he felt better rested than he had for ages. He, of course, had no idea where he was specifically, but he remembered very quickly that he was in New York City, and as soon as he registered that, he remembered about Lily.

James tumbled out of bed and scrambled for the door. "Lily!" he said, throwing it open.

He nearly ran into a short, dark-haired woman, who took one look at him and laughed. "Running around in your underwear again, are you? Get back into bed, you need to rest some more."

"Where's Lily?"

"You're going to catch cold. Please, get back under the covers."

"No, I need to see Lily. Is she all right?"

"Yes, the girl is fine. She is resting also. Please go lay down. I will bring you something hot to drink."

"I'm not cold," James insisted, but he realized that he was. He glanced down at his attire and realized that the woman was right; he was just wearing boxer shorts and a T-shirt, and goose bumps were prickling along his arms and legs. He wasn't even wearing socks--which might explain why his feet were so sore. His trainers, he noted, had been removed and set neatly by the foot of the bed. James was mildly amazed he'd had the sense to put on any kind of shoes at all. He certainly didn't remember putting on shoes--but then, he didn't remember much, except for the mad rush from his house to an International Travel Port to America, where...where...

Well, things were a bit fuzzy on that end.

The woman was still staring at him, and she continued to do so until James sank back onto the mattress and pulled the covers over his legs. With a satisfied nod, she left the room, heading in what James assumed was the direction of the kitchen. He plopped his head down on the pillow and stared at the ceiling, trying to process the moment. The girl is fine, the woman had said. But how was that possible? Lily was--well, Lily had been--

James sat up again. He had to go to her. He had to see for himself. She had to be somewhere in this--this--house? Hospital? Apartment? Where the hell was he?

He was just about to climb out of bed again when the woman reappeared, carrying a tray, which she set on the table next to the bed. It had two mugs on itHaaHddd--one filled with coffee, the other tea--as well as a bowl of soup and a plate of toast.

"That was quick," James said, impressed.

The woman smiled. "Most of it was ready. We just had breakfast. I didn't know whether you liked coffee or tea so I brought both. Both the girls prefer tea, so I thought you might too." She shook her head and made a face. "That is a taste I do not share."

"Both girls?" What girls? Wasn't Lily asleep? What was she talking about?

"Yes--Lin and Bridget?"

Oh yeah. The two Fourth Years. They'd accosted James in his living room and insisted on going with him to look for Lily; he still wasn't really sure why. "Oh. Right."

"And you are James. Is that correct?"

"Yeah, I'm James. Who--who are you? And--where am I, exactly?"

"I am Mariana Veranzo, but you should call me Mama. Everyone else does. And you are in my apartment in New York City, which I share with my children, Paolo, Antony, Gianni, and Isabella."

James doubted he would remember their names. He didn't really care. He just needed to see Lily. "And where is--"

"The girl is fine. She's resting now, like I told you. And you need to eat a little and rest some more before you see her. You both had a lot taken out of you."

James slumped back against the headboard, disappointed. "But--by what?"

Mama looked perplexed. "I was hoping you might tell me."

James tried to remember. It was all a little blurry at the moment. He closed his eyes, and saw--

Lily. Bloodied. Lying in an alley behind a dumpster.

He didn't want to think about it anymore.

Mama put a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right. Don't think about it right now. Just rest. Drink something and rest, please. I don't think the girl will be up for a while, so you will not be missing her."

You're wrong, James thought. I almost missed her completely.

Melody cried more after Sirius left. She thought seeing him again before having lunch with Malfoy would make her feel secure, more complete, more prepared. Instead she just felt empty and rotten and full of tears. She was so stupid she could hardly stand herself.

But she didn't want to show any of that to Lucifer Malfoy, so she dressed in a sensible, boring blue skirt with a matching jacket, and tried to hide the redness and puffiness around her eyes.

Lucifer Malfoy's home was gorgeous as usual, and the table he had set for lunch, buffet-style, looked delicious, but Melody could only pick at her food. She kept running the conversation she'd had with Sirius through her head, occasionally murmuring polite things to Lucifer to try to maintain the illusion of conversation. This was not the smartest move on her part.

"Where might you be dining this afternoon, Melody?" Lucifer asked, and Melody looked up from her plate with wide eyes. Crap, she thought. Even my body language is giving me away. "You certainly aren't sitting at the table with me, are you?"

"I apologize," Melody said, trying to smile pleasantly. "I was a little distracted. I'm afraid I have a bit of a headache."

Malfoy chuckled. "You are not a very good liar, Melody."

That's what you think.

"You were thinking about something," he continued. "What?"

"Grapes," Melody invented. "They're funny."

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. "Funny?"

"Not ha-ha funny, but...odd-funny. And it's not really the grapes themselves, it's the way I think about them. I think of grapes as being sweet, but I'm usually disappointed because most of them are actually sour. The ones I pick out are sour, anyway." She frowned down at her plate again. Her relationship with Sirius was only a few weeks old and already she was souring things.

Lucifer laughed this time, not a chuckle but a bigger, heartier laugh of amusement, and Melody looked up from her plate at him, surprised. He continued to grin after his laughter stopped, and Melody was further surprised to note the niceness of his grin--even and symmetrical, accentuating his cheekbones and causing the skin around his eyes to crinkle up. Somehow, Melody hadn't expected him to have laugh lines. He'd always been so formal with her, so calculating. He didn't seem like the kind of person who ever really laughed. But he did, and his laugh was surprisingly pleasant as well--not a sinister snicker or cackle, but a genuine, belly-deep cadence of amusement.

Melody was not sure how she felt about this. On the one hand, it made him seem more like a person and less like a rich manipulative bastard who was just using her as a pawn in his game of...whatever it was. On the other hand, it made Melody realize how little she knew about him, which made her unsure how to react.

Lucifer continued grinning as he spoke to her. "Grapes," he said, and laughed again. "Grapes, my giddy aunt. You weren't thinking about grapes. No one thinks about grapes."

Did he just say "my giddy aunt"?

"Tell me what you were really thinking about. If you're not going to join my conversation, I might as well try to join yours."

"It's not a conversation, it's just--complicated."

"You were frowning. Like you were arguing with yourself, maybe."

"No, it's not me, it's just that he--I mean, I--" Melody tried to correct herself, but it was too late. The "he" had popped out already.

"He who?" Lucifer inquired.

Melody searched for another lie, but she took too long. Lucifer spoke again before she had a chance to say anything.

"Hans tells me you've been dating a boy from Hogwarts. A Black, if I'm not mistaken."

Melody's mouth dried out. She moved her lips, but there was no sound. She didn't even know what she was trying to say, she just felt like she needed to say something.

"You don't have to explain it to me," Lucifer said, and Melody clamped her mouth shut. She was still trying to think of something to say, but her mind blanked out on her. She just sat there and stared at him instead. "I think," Lucifer continued, "that Hans has you under the impression that I am going to force you to marry me. Or some other such ridiculous nonsense."

Melody decided that her brain was not quite with the program. It thought that Lucifer Malfoy had just said he wasn't going to try to make Melody marry him.

"I am interested in you, Melody. I'm not going to lie to you about that. But I'm not going to try to force you to do anything against your will."

Melody felt her eyes go wide. She couldn't control her surprise. She let her eyes stretch themselves out until she was sure she looked like she had two flying saucers attached to her face. Maybe her brain was still playing tricks on her. Maybe she was hallucinating. Maybe Lucifer was hallucinating.

He was looking at her expectantly. Maybe I'm not hallucinating. Melody opened her mouth, but it took a moment before she could manage any sound.

"Oh," she said finally, and then, because her mouth was still gaping open, she had to remind herself to clamp it shut.

Lucifer laughed again, still genuinely amused. "Your uncle is a rather ridiculous man, Melody. He does not understand the rules of effective negotiation--nor, it appears, does he have any idea how to hold onto a fortune. But"--Lucifer shrugged before continuing--"I suppose when you become more interested in house-hunting and social climbing than business, you deserve to have someone steal your money out from underneath you."

Melody was genuinely confused, and Lucifer, apparently, recognized that she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Your uncle," he explained, "started out in the business of private shipping--getting large packages overseas that couldn't be carried by owls, you see. It was extremely legitimate and rather successful, as his company dealt with all the international laws on shipping, and with all the political red tape in customs--so his customers wouldn't have to, obviously. But working so closely with all of those laws meant that Hans eventually figured out several ingenious loopholes, which he exploited to start a side business that involved international smuggling--which he was smart enough to keep separate from his legitimate business. But, for some unknown reason, he was an idiot with his personal finances, and starting spending Galleons by the millions and neglecting his business, which left him unable to finance one or two of his more questionable shipments, and..." he shrugged again. "I believe around the time he contacted you was the time when several unhappy and dangerous customers began demanding compensation for lost shipments, so he took funds from his legitimate business to pay them off, which, you can imagine, did nothing to help his situation. As I understand it, eventually the vice president of the legitimate business uncovered all of Hans's secrets, and threatened to turn him over to the authorities unless Hans signed all the deeds for the business over to him, and now...well, I'm sure you've seen what state he is in now. It is only my generosity that is keeping him from a long term in prison."

Melody wasn't sure if this speech was supposed to make her applaud Lucifer for his marvelous generosity, or to turn her against Hans, or, or...what. It certainly didn't seem to have an angle behind it, it was just...facts. Almost conversationally. Rather informative. And all for Melody's benefit. She didn't need to know any of this--frankly she wasn't sure why Lucifer cared if she did know any of this--and she was rather at a loss about how to reply.

"I suppose my point," Lucifer said, after it became apparent that Melody wasn't going to say anything, "is that I am nowhere near as foolish as your uncle." He took a moment to look at her appraisingly. "I'm going to speak to you candidly, Melody. I hope you don't mind."

Melody doubted very much whether it mattered if she minded, no matter what Lucifer said. He seemed all right, and he was much pleasanter this afternoon than he'd ever been, but--but still. She was suspicious. "All right," she agreed, and she wondered if he noticed the flatness in her voice.

"I have every intention of marrying you, Melody. But I plan to do it with your consent."

"Oh?" Melody said, trying to disguise the fact that she felt like someone had just injected a pound of lead into her veins. "And how exactly do you plan to obtain my consent?"

Lucifer looked surprised, but, shockingly, neither annoyed nor angry--instead he looked amused again. "By asking you, of course. And by offering you everything."

Melody blinked at him. "And by everything, you mean...what exactly?"

Lucifer grinned. He seemed pleased with the way this conversation was going, though Melody wasn't sure why. It wasn't as though she'd leapt into his arms and begged him to carry her off to a chapel at the mention of marriage.

"I will give you anything that is in my power to give," he said. "If you're interested in money, I can offer you plenty. I understand your family is often down-and-out. I can promise you that they will never be so again."

Melody narrowed her eyes, and he continued, changing topics.

"A career--any career. I have excellent contacts within the Ministry--and many other places. What is it you wish to do with your life? I can help make it happen."

He was starting to sound like a salesman. Like one of those hacks who put up a stand in Diagon Alley and sold rabbit's feet and talismans that he claimed could make you invisible, ward off demons, protect you from poisons--even ward those pesky gnomes away from your garden! Ridiculous.

"I understand that you're interested in dueling. I have contacts at the International Dueling Association as well."

His assurance was starting to make Melody angry. Where did he come off, getting information about her life from Hans and then trying to use it against her, to manipulate her, to offer it to her like she was some sort of desperate, money-grubbing wretch who needed saving.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said coldly, "I'm afraid I don't give a hippogriff's ass what sort of contacts you've made or how much money you're prepared to offer me. I can do perfectly well on my own, thank you. And furthermore, don't think for one minute that I would ever so foolishly accept your offer thinking that you would want nothing more in return than my...companionship."

"Marriage is a great deal more than companionship, Melody."

"Call me Miss Cauldwell, if you don't mind, and I am perfectly aware what marriage is all about."

Lucifer's smile was gone now, but he did not look threatening. He merely raised his eyebrows at Melody and spoke again. "I would never try to insult you, Miss Cauldwell. I hear you have quite a reputation for turning your enemies into donkeys, and I'm afraid I wouldn't take kindly to you making an ass out of me."

Melody glared at him and tried not to be amused by his comment, as he clearly was. She was beginning to feel mildly disturbed about the wealth of information he seemed to have gathered about her. She still knew practically nothing about him. And here he was talking about marrying her.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy," she said, trying to steer the conversation away from asses, "I'm afraid that of all the things you offered, not once did you mention love. I'm afraid that I could not condone a marriage that wasn't based on love."

Lucifer laughed again, quite heartily, and for the first time in his presence, Melody truly felt like a child.

"Miss Cauldwell, it amazes me that you of all people would believe in something as silly as a marriage based on love. Marriage is above all else, and has been for centuries, a contract--a contract based on land and assets and survival, not something as fleeting and unstable as love."

And ridiculous, Melody added silently. She didn't think love was ridiculous--images of Sirius popped into her head, and she hastily shoved them away--but clearly Lucifer did. And he was somehow making her feel ridiculous about her feelings about love. Yes, he had a point, and yes, she already knew all that about marriage, but--but--

"I'm afraid I'm too modern for you, mister Malfoy. You see, I believe that as long as a girl has a choice, then assets and land and survival should be worried about secondly, not first. After all, this is the twentieth century. It isn't as though we're still operating under the feudal system." Not that the wizarding world ever took much stock in the feudal system...but still.

"If that is the modern viewpoint, then I worry about the financial security of the younger generation."

"I expect you would," Melody said, and didn't feel like saying any more.

Lucifer looked amused again. "I still hope that you'll give me a chance, Miss Cauldwell. I'm sure that your current boyfriend is very smart and attractive and affectionate--but I doubt he has a plan for your future. I doubt he is ready for marriage."

"Maybe I'm not ready for marriage either," she said, but she wasn't sure this was true. She had sort of reconciled herself to the idea of marriage over the past few months, and any time she thought about marrying Sirius--well, that thought didn't take much reconciliation at all.

"And the future? What does the Black boy have planned for that?"

"Respectfully, sir, I don't think that's any of your business." In all honesty, Melody had no idea what Sirius had planned for the future. They'd never really talked about it.

Surprisingly, Lucifer seemed to accept this. He merely raised his eyebrows and gave a slight nod.

"Besides," Melody continued hastily, "we're still young. We have plenty of time to think about the future."

She didn't know if she believed this at all. Their time at Hogwarts was coming to an end, and the world was looking much grimmer. People were dying left and right, and the Ministry seemed more and more unable to control what was happening--as the Daily Prophet took no qualms to point out. Who knew if, in five months, dueling tournaments would even exist? Planning for the future seemed bleak and difficult. It was no wonder she'd never discussed it with Sirius.

All the same, with the world as bleak as it was, and the future rushing up fast to meet them--you'd think the topic of marriage would have come up once or twice. Hadn't the Prophet said just last week that the number of marriages planned--the number of chapels booked, anyway--over the Christmas holidays was more than the country had seen in years? Fear was spreading, and, not far behind it, panic. Now that she thought of it, Melody was amazed she hadn't heard of more people in her year becoming engaged. She only knew of one, really, and she didn't know the people involved very well at all--she just remembered, shortly before Christmas holidays, passing some Hufflepuff girl in the hallway showing off an engagement ring to several of her friends. Alice, Melody thought her name was, and the boy who'd given it to her was named Frank. Not Frank Longbottom, surely? Melody thought, and wondered why this hadn't occurred to her before.

She realized she was staring off into space, and shook her head a little to refocus her vision on Lucifer, who had apparently been watching her with interest. Melody shifted in her seat, uncomfortable once more.

"No matter," he said finally. "As you say, it is none of my business. Grape?" he offered, holding the bowl out to Melody, and she took one, feeling confused and unsure of herself. She popped the grape in her mouth and bit down, knowing she'd need plenty of time alone after she left to think this conversation over. Melody frowned and swallowed, taking a quick drink of water.

The grape was sour.

Nighttime had long since fallen by the time Sirius landed his motorcycle outside of Potter's Cottage. The bike had been shifting funnily ever since Sussex, and he bent now to examine the gears. He spent a good ten minutes tinkering with the gearshift before he gave up on it. He thought he'd found the problem, but he couldn't be sure--the only way to test it would be to start up the bike again and give it a whirl, but Sirius didn't think Mrs. Potter would appreciate all that racket this late at night. The Minister wouldn't have, either, but Sirius doubted he was home.

Sirius walked in the front door without bothering to knock, and dumped his damp jacket and helmet on the floor, where they were silently and efficiently whisked away by a house-elf. He walked into the kitchen, half expecting to see James at the table shoveling down some late-night snack or another, but a glance at the clock on the wall showed that it was even later than Sirius thought--nearly one o'clock already--and James was probably at least pretending to be asleep.

Sirius was in no mood for sleep. After eating lunch and returning home with his parents, he'd spent a long afternoon brooding over his conversation with Melody. He still couldn't believe all the things she'd been hiding from him--and he got the feeling that there was something more she wasn't telling him, either. Despite her claims that Lucifer Malfoy had no interest in marrying her, and that she was under no obligation to him, it seemed to Sirius that, for a girl who didn't owe Malfoy anything, she'd been a bit too keen on staying to have lunch with him.

He sat down at the table and asked for a piece of chocolate cake and some ice cream, which promptly appeared in front of him. There was always chocolate cake available in the Potters' kitchen; Sirius had the house-elves well trained.

He had just taken his first bite of cake when the door to the kitchen swung open and Mrs. Potter walked in. She looked only mildly surprised to see Sirius there, and greeted him with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes, which were shadowed heavily by dark circles and rimmed with red, as though she'd been staying up at night to cry instead of sleep.

"'lo, Mrs. P," Sirius said thickly, around his mouthful of gooey cake and icing.

"Hello, Sirius. Where's James gone off to?" Mrs. Potter was at the stove, busying herself with making a pot of tea.

Sirius's bite of cake froze halfway to his mouth. "What d'you mean, where's he gone off to? Isn't he here?"

Mrs. Potter, who had been shooing away a house-elf who was demanding to make the pot of tea for her, stopped and stared at Sirius. "Well, I assumed he was back since you were. I meant, what part of the house has he run off to?"

"Back? Back from where?"

Mrs. Potter turned her whole body toward Sirius now, and the house-elf began making a very efficient pot of tea. "Back from whatever he was off doing with you, of course," Mrs. Potter said. "I haven't seen him since yesterday. I assumed you two were together."

Sirius shook his head. "I've been in London visiting Melody. I haven't seen James for a couple days."

Mrs. Potter's eyes widened in alarm. "Well, if he wasn't with you, and he hasn't been here, then where in the world is he?"

Sirius didn't know. He did not try to hide this. "Maybe he had the pressing urge to go see Lily in America?"

Mrs. Potter gave him a stern glare. "Sirius, I am not in the mood for joking. Honestly, do you have any idea where he might be?"

Sirius thought about this for a moment. "Honestly? I have no clue."

It was dark the second time James awoke, and when he opened his eyes he saw a young girl with a dark, tangled mess of hair sitting by the foot of his bed, balancing a large pad of paper on her knees. As soon as she saw that James was awake, she gasped and leapt to her feet, scurrying out the door. "Mommy, mommy! He's awake!"

A few moments later the little girl reappeared at the door. Behind her was not the short, comforting Mama James had met when he first awoke, but rather a tall Italian boy about James's age, who was shushing the little girl. "Be more quiet, Isabella. Mama is still sleeping, like everyone else."

"Sorry," she whispered, before grabbing her pad of paper and hurrying out of the room.

"I am sorry about that. I told her not to bother you, but she must have snuck in while I was napping. She likes to draw people, you see."

"No, that's all right," said James, who didn't really care about the hobbies of an eight-year-old. He had other things on his mind. And he didn't feel like wasting time skirting around the subject. "Is Lily all right?" he demanded.

"She is fine, as far as we can tell. She is asleep right now."

"Still?" James asked, disappointed, and he sank back into his pillows.

The boy shrugged. "I guess so. Unless she's woken up again, like you."

"Was she awake before?" James wanted to know, offended that he hadn't been awakened for the occasion if she had been.

But the boy shook his head. "No. But she was unconscious before. Now she is just asleep. Mama can tell the difference."

"Oh." James considered this for a second. "Can I see her?" If she was sleeping, that was a good sign.

"Sure. Just as long as you are feeling all right."

James scrambled out of bed. "I'm great. Let's go. Where is she?"

The boy grinned and led James out of the room. The room where Lily was resting was only a few steps down the hallway, but even so James felt a little dizzy walking the distance to it.

"She's probably still asleep. But if she wakes up or if you need anything, I'll be right down the hall." The boy pointed, and James glanced in the direction of his finger. It looked like the hallway led to a small kitchen.

"All right," James agreed.

"I'm Paolo, by the way."

The name sounded vaguely familiar to James, but he wasn't sure why. "I'm James."

Paolo grinned again. "I know." Then he walked away.

James hesitated outside the door. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and sucked in a breath of air. He shouldn't have been hesitating--he should've just burst in and rushed gallantly to Lily's side spouting romantic poetry or...something. But he couldn't. He couldn't get the image of Lily in the alley out of his head. Limp. Bloodied. White freckled skin tossed cold on the ground and screaming red hair splayed everywhere.

She'd been so pale. So pale. And so...so...

James turned the door handle roughly, slipping into the room and shutting the door firmly behind him. It was dim inside; the shades were drawn and little light peeked in around the edges.

And there was Lily, tucked in bed. James forgot to breathe for a moment. He stared at her for several long seconds, terrified, and then realized--there. The sheets were moving up and down, just slightly, with each of Lily's slow and steady breaths.

James exhaled and relaxed, and his limp and relieved limbs carried him over to the bed, where he sat down and regarded Lily's sleeping form. She'd recovered some of her color, but she was still paler than James had ever seen her--quite a feat, considering how pale she was normally anyway.

But she was alive, and that was all that mattered.

It took some moments before James realized he was shaking. Was it relief? Was it fear? Was it shame?

"I'm sorry, Lily," he whispered. "I should have been there sooner. I could have saved you. I should have saved you from all of it."

James wanted to put his arms around her, but he didn't want to disturb her, so he just settled for leaning over and burying his face in the pillow next to Lily's head.

He felt something brush the nape of his neck.

"Don't be such a nincompoop, James. You did save me."

James was mysteriously missing. The house elves reported that he'd disappeared the previous night around midnight, but they didn't know where he'd gone. James's father, of course, could have pulled some strings at the Ministry to find out where he'd Floo-ed to, but James's father hadn't come home to hear about it. The Minister hadn't been home in three nights.

Sirius was lounging around in James's room, partly searching for clues as to where James had run off to, but mostly trying to hide from Mrs. Potter, who was vaguely hysterical. At the moment, Sirius was sitting on James's bed, playing with a small purple bouncy ball he'd found in James's dresser. He threw it across the room and watched as it bounced off the far wall and came flying back at his face. He caught it before it hit his nose and threw it back across the room.

He couldn't quite get the conversation with Melody that morning out of his mind. Liar, he thought angrily, and threw the ball across the room again with extra force. Bloody beautiful stupid liar. He couldn't believe how long she'd been lying to him. Or how wrong he'd been about all her secrets.

He'd known that she was hiding something, but he'd never imagined anything like this. This was...well, this was bloody ridiculous, that was all. Blackmail for marriage...could it be any more sodding archaic? Only someone as beautiful and reckless as Melody could have gotten herself screwed up in something so ridiculous.

Sirius threw the ball across the room too hard this time, and without much aim, and instead of hitting the wall it banged on top of James's dresser and knocked several things to the floor.

"Oh bugger," Sirius muttered, and hauled himself off James's bed to go have a look. He'd knocked off a stick of deodorant, an empty container of pumpkin juice, and a package of razor blades. He tossed the pumpkin juice container in the general direction of the trash, and restored the deodorant and razor blades to their approximate places on the dresser. As he did so, he noticed a small, square...something...on the dresser wrapped in black velvet. Sirius wasn't one much for containing his curiosity or respecting James's personal space, so he lifted the...whatever it was...up and pulled away the velvet wrapped around it.

Inside was a very small, familiar-looking mirror.

"Lily!"

"Hi, James."

"Lily, I--I mean you--you were--"

"I know."

"But now you're--you're not--"

"I know."

"Lily, I tried to--"

Lily lifted her hand and put two fingers on James's lips. "I know," she whispered.

James's head fell back onto the pillow next to hers. Lily ran her fingers through his hair. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but she was still feeling strangely limp and weak and--tired. So tired. She let her eyes flutter closed again and enjoyed the feel of James's warm face so close to hers. James turned his head and kissed her cheek--her earlobe--her neck--and she couldn't keep her eyes closed anymore.

"I just woke up," she protested. "I don't have the energy for kissing."

James grinned and kissed her forehead, then sat up. "Couldn't help myself."

Lily lifted her hand and rested it against James's cheek. "I can't say I blame you."

And then it just slipped out. She must have come to this decision while she was sleeping, because she didn't remember ever agreeing to it while she was awake. Maybe the near-death experience was making her a little loopy. Maybe she was hallucinating. Maybe James was hallucinating, and she was just visiting him in his hallucination. Whatever the case, she said it. And once she had, she wondered why she'd waited so long to.

Maybe she was stupid. Maybe she was scared. Or maybe she just realized--what was the point in living, if you didn't have someone to live for?

"I love you, James."

James let the moment hang. A big, stupid grin worked itself across his face.

"Finally," he said, and leaned down to kiss her.

Lily was still tired, and her head felt extra-dizzy, and she didn't kiss James back with as much fervor as she would have liked, but even so...it was good.

The ice cream was not helping. Mrs. Evans abandoned her pint of Ben and Jerry's and shuffled upstairs to Molly's room, where Lily had been sleeping. She sat down on Molly's bed and sighed, staring over at Lily's half of the room, where clothes and books and half-empty nail polish containers were still scattered everywhere, and tried not to ponder the concept of never seeing her daughter again.

Instead she imagined Lily walking through the door and smiling at her before plopping down on her bed to catch up on some reading. Or maybe paint her toenails and chat. It didn't matter. Just as long as Lily was still alive and well...or alive, at least...as long as she wasn't....

Mrs. Evans squeezed her eyes shut and let her head fall into her hands. Please, God. Oh, please. Not again. I'd give anything. Just let her be alive. Let her be all right. I have to see her one more time...hug her...tell her I love her...even hear her say 'hello' again....

"Hello?"

Mrs. Evans jerked her head up. Now she really was imagining things. The room was entirely empty.

"Hello?"

There it was again. Was Lily...speaking to her from heaven?

"HELLO? Oy! Anyone there?"

But...that sounded like a boy. That didn't make any sense.

"Can anyone hear me? If you can, please say something."

Mrs. Evans was unsure whether to respond. She looked around wildly, but saw nothing. Should you respond to invisible people? she wondered. Is it appropriate to reply to voices that are obviously in your head?

"Bugger," said the voice, and Mrs. Evans frowned.

"I beg your pardon, but that's rude."

"Hey! Hullo, who's there?"

Mrs. Evans wondered again if she should reply. This was all very strange. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't speak with invisible people. If you want to continue this conversation, then you should show yourself."

She heard laughter. "Mrs. Evans! I recognize your voice now. I'm not invisible. I'm just--not really there."

"I beg your pardon?" Now she was sure she was talking to herself. Although...although the voice did sound oddly familiar.

"Where are you? Is anyone else with you?"

"I demand to know to whom I'm speaking. If you're a voice in my head then--please, shut up." Although she didn't really think she was talking to an imaginary person any longer. The voice did sound very oddly familiar.

More laughter. "You're not imagining things, Mrs. E. This is Sirius. Sirius Black."

"Oh, thank God. I thought I was going crazy. Where are you? You can step out of the closet now, or...wherever it is you're hiding."

"No, I already told you, I'm not there. Look...where are you exactly? You said you were alone. Can you close the door to whatever room it is you're in?"

"Yes. Why?"

"You wouldn't want a Mu--ah, that is--someone to walk by and see you talking to an invisible person, would you?"

"No, I suppose not," Mrs. Evans agreed, and she got up and closed the door to Molly's room.

"Great," Sirius said, having heard the door close. "Now--and this is going to sound a bit odd--you have to find me."

"Find you? Are you lost?"

"Well--I don't know. See, I'm actually talking to you through a looking glass--a small mirror, you see, that lets you communicate with people long distances away. Kind of like the fellytone or...whatever it is you use...only the mirror lets you see who you're talking to. So I need you to look for a small rectangular mirror somewhere in this room. Actually--look for a velvet pouch that the mirror could be in, because right now all I can see is blackness, and I think the mirror on your end must be wrapped up in something."

Mrs. Evans spotted such a thing on the floor, sticking out from underneath Lily's bed. She bent down and picked it up, and pulled away the velvet to reveal a small mirror, in which Sirius Black's young, handsome face was present.

Sirius laughed again when he saw the expression on Mrs. Evans's face.

"Good to see you again, Mrs. E."

"Er--hullo there, Sirius. This is very...odd."

"Is it? Well, yeah, I guess. A bit. Not quite as odd as sticking your head in a fireplace, though, is it?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Look, Mrs. E, I know this is going to sound strange and all, but I was wondering if you'd seen James lately?"

"James? Lily's James? Well no, of course not. Why would he be here?"

Sirius frowned. "I dunno. See, that's the problem. No one's really sure where he is. I found this mirror in his room and hoped that whoever had the other half of it would know where he went. Actually, I was expecting Lily to be on the other end. Is Lily there? Do you think she might know where James is?"

Mrs. Evans thought of Lily and her stomach lurched. The expression on her face must have said it all, because Sirius didn't wait for her to reply before he spoke again.

"What happened? Is Lily all right?"

"I--I don't know, Sirius," Mrs. Evans said, her voice very tight. "Lily went missing last night. No one's seen her for at least fifteen hours."

Had it really been that long? Had she really been keeping track of the hours in her head? She hadn't stopped to think about it before she said it, but she counted the hours again quickly in her head and realized she was right.

"Oh...bugger," Sirius muttered. "Sorry," he said quickly. "Look, I don't know exactly how long James has been missing, but it seems like they've both been gone about the same amount of time...so wherever they are, maybe they're together, eh?"

"But how could that be? How could James get to America without anyone knowing? How could Lily get to England? It doesn't make sense."

"I don't know. You're right--I mean, it doesn't make sense for them to be in the same place, but if something really bad were to happen to Lily I don't think James would let an ocean stop him from getting to her. There are a lot faster magical ways of getting overseas then there are Muggle ways."

Mrs. Evans's face paled. "You don't...think something bad has happened to Lily, do you?"

Sirius sighed. "I really don't know. Her disappearing doesn't sound good--I can't imagine her running off without telling you where she was going--but she did run off on me and James last summer. We spent two days looking for her before she turned up."

"I don't think that's it, Sirius. She disappeared in the middle of a movie. She just got up to go to the bathroom, and the next minute she was gone. There wasn't a way for her to even get out of the apartment without walking by all of us, and none of us saw her leave, so...how could she...?"

Sirius frowned. "Well, she is a talented witch, Mrs. E. If she wanted to get away without any of you noticing her, there were lots of things she could have done to accomplish that. Did she seem upset when she left?"

"A little, I guess. But it's the holidays. We're all having a rough time getting through our first Christmas without--with--" Mrs. Evans's face crumpled up, and she slanted the mirror away from her so Sirius couldn't see.

"It's all right, you don't have to explain," he said hastily. "Look, Mrs. E, I'm going to let you go. But if Lily turns up--or you happen to hear anything about James--let me know. Just look into the mirror and say 'Sirius' and I'll be here. Or have one of them let me know. I'm sure it'll be all right. Lily's a tough girl, she can take care of herself."

"I hope you're right, Sirius," Mrs. Evans murmured, and then his face faded from the mirror and he was gone.

Lily and James were interrupted by Lin and Bridget, who burst into Lily's room without warning.

"You're awake!" Bridget cried.

"You're alive," Lin murmured

"Finally," Bridget continued. "I feel like we've been waiting out there for ever. Once we found out James had gone to see you, we had to come visit you too. He said you weren't awake yet, but I knew once James was here you would wake up, and now you are awake, so see? Ha! I told you I was right," she said, sticking her tongue out at Paolo, who had just entered the room.

He scowled. "And I told you both to wait out there," he said, pointing down the hall. "I know that you want to make sure she is all right, but it is more important now that he be with her than both of you."

"Plus it's rude to enter a room without knocking," James interjected, annoyed.

Lily put her hand over his. She was still weak and dizzy-feeling (perhaps as much from James now as anything else), and she lacked the strength to sit up, but before she fell asleep again she wanted to deal with this.

"It's okay. But...Lin? What in the world are you doing here?" she asked, and then her eyes drifted to the Bridget. "I'm sorry," she said, frowning. "I don't really know you."

"I'm Bridget DeBeauvois, Third Year Gryffindor," Bridget said, walking closer to Lily and sticking out her hand, which Lily shook limply. "I'm the only reason Lin didn't scream herself to pieces and send the rest of Gryffindor House into a coma."

"You should talk," Lin snapped. "You woke up half the neighborhood with your screaming."

Bridget's cheeks burned, and she turned around to face Lin, opening her mouth wide to protest.

"Girls, please," Paolo protested. "Lily needs rest. You should leave her, and wait until she is feeling better to answer her questions."

Lily's focus shifted to him now. "Who are you? Where...where am I?" she asked sleepily. She could feel herself beginning to fade.

"My name is Paolo Veranzo. You are in my family's apartment. But more questions can be answered later. For now, you should sleep. Come on," he said, gesturing to Bridget and Lin. Bridget openly pouted as she left, but Lin just looked at Lily with her deep dark eyes and nodded before walking out of the room.

"I am sorry," Paolo said. "I will not let them bother you again."

Lily nodded, and let her eyes fall shut as Paolo left and closed the door behind him. Paolo, she thought. Why does that name sound familiar?

"Lily," James whispered. "Do you want me to--"

"No," Lily said softly. "Stay."

So he did.

Molly was kind of searching for Lily. Mostly she was trying to avoid the apartment, where now both Lily's mother and Molly's parents were going frantic. She'd invited Petunia to come with her, but Petunia seemed content to lock herself in the guest room and call her boyfriend in England to complain about what a miserable time she was having in America. She only seemed mildly distressed that her sister was missing.

Molly was on the other side of distressed. She was exasperated. She needed something--anything--to get her mind off the worry, to soothe the buzzing tension that had slowly been working its way through her shoulders, up her neck, and into her head. Her family had stayed up all night, worrying, and Molly had managed only a few hours of sleep herself. But she couldn't get back to sleep now, so instead she walked.

She walked a good ten blocks before her legs really started to burn. Usually her legs wore out much quicker, but today apparently she had enough nervous energy to keep her going. Why was it that whenever she saw Lily, the Evans's were on the brink of or in the aftermath of some crisis?

A couple blocks later, Molly's energy started to run out. She needed to stop and rest and think. More importantly, she needed caffeine.

There was a little bakery about a block away that sold the most fabulous espresso. Molly had just enough money to buy a cup, and jogged across the street toward the door, eager to escape the cold. The bakery was wonderfully warm, and smelled of sweets and cinnamon and sharp black coffee. Molly happily pulled off her gloves and loosened her scarf as she took her place in line.

Her eyes scanned the inside of the shop, searching for an empty table, but there wasn't one. There never was. There was, however, a small two-person table currently occupied only by a very cute, dark-haired Italian boy. He had a cup of coffee and a pastry and a copy of today's newspaper spread out in front of him. Molly, however, was not about to let as something as boring as a newspaper get in her way. She smoothed down her hair and stared at him pointedly until he realized he was being watched. When he looked up she gave him her sexy eyes. (At least that was what her best friend Grace called them.)

The boy grinned and set down his paper. He motioned to the empty chair across from him, and Molly nodded, then held up one finger to signal that he should wait a moment, and turned around to place her order. She was glad she'd decided to go with the tight jeans today. They made her butt look especially nice.

She paid for her espresso mostly in change and went over to sit down across from the Italian boy.

"Hello," she said brightly, smiling as she shrugged her coat off. If only this top was a little more low-cut. The boy didn't seem to mind, though. He was still regarding her with interested eyes. "Thanks for letting me share your table."

"No problem," he said. He had an accent. Molly melted for accents.

"So you're really from Italy?" she asked, somewhat abruptly. Not smooth, Molly. Oops.

He laughed. "How could you tell?"

"Well, what can I say? It's a gift."

"How lucky for you. My only gift is that I speak two languages--and one of those not so well."

Molly couldn't help grinning. He'd left himself wide open. "I'd say you have a fair few more gifts than that," she said, and used the line as an unabashed excuse to give him a once-over.

He laughed again. "You are even more forward than I am. How am I supposed to play it cool and smooth if you are looking at me like that? You make me blush."

"You don't look like you're blushing to me," Molly said, and kept her gaze on him as she took a sip of espresso.

"Well, if I am not blushing, then I am still surprised."

"Okay, so maybe I'm being a little more forward than usual, but I need a good distraction. There's nothing wrong with a little flirting, is there?"

"What do you need a distraction from?" he asked, looking concerned.

Oh great. A sensitive Italian guy. The last thing Molly needed was actual emotional involvement. She sighed. "It's complicated. I'd really rather talk about you."

His eyebrows shot up. "My life is complicated too," he replied. "What is so complicated about yours?"

Molly was beginning to lose her sexy eyes. "Do you always try to get involved in the personal lives of strangers...or just us really attractive strangers?"

"Maybe this is just my way of getting tongue tied. Maybe when I am nervous, it is easier to let the other person talk."

"You could have just asked me about my favorite movies if you wanted me to talk."

He nodded. "True, but I do not know many movies. And...you have the look of a person who needs to talk."

Molly's sexy eyes faded. "Really? I thought I had the look of a person who wanted to flirt."

"Yes. You were hiding it very well. But you need--distracted, you say. You are trying not to think about something. Maybe it would be better if you talked about it. Then it would not all be in your head."

Molly's flirtations did not usually end up this way. Was she particularly unattractive today? Or just...really distressed-looking?

"Are you sure you really want to hear some stranger's problems? It won't take that long to explain...but still...."

"Si. If you need to talk, then I will listen."

Molly sighed. This was so not the way she'd wanted this to work out. "Well...if you really care..."--he nodded, and she sighed again before continuing--"my cousin was visiting from England for the holidays. And...well...on Christmas night, she kind of...disappeared. It's been over a day since anybody's seen her."

He stared at her for a long moment. Molly blinked at him. He looked stunned, which she guessed was a reasonable reaction, but...there was something about his expression. She thought he looked a little more stunned than necessary.

"On...Christmas night, you say?"

"Yes. Right in the middle of a movie. It was really bizarre."

"Was it very late at night?"

"Not really late, but...a little late, I guess." She tilted her head at him slightly, confused. She couldn't read the expression on his face.

"This cousin," he said, his eyebrows drawing together into some unreadable expression, "she wouldn't happen to have the long red curly hair...would she?"

The next time Lily awoke, it was to find herself wrapped in James's arms. All in all, it wasn't a bad place to be, but her memories of how exactly she'd gotten there were a little fuzzy. She let them drift back to her slowly, and somehow that made it less of a shock to realize that she'd told James she loved him--and also that she'd died.

Because she had died. For a long, strange, fluttering moment, she'd left her body behind, and the only thing that pulled her back was James. She couldn't explain why or how--she wasn't even really sure what had happened. She just knew.

She remembered the flash of green light--the Avada Kedavra--and remembered, in that instant between life and death, sending out a prayer. But what had she prayed for? Was it salvation? Was it life? Was it justice? Was it James? She couldn't remember anymore.

Her hand went absentmindedly to her necklace. She'd developed a habit of fiddling with it when she was lost in thought. She was surprised, though, when she touched it, at how different its texture was. The pendant had always been smooth, and the chain slinky and delicate under her fingers. But now it felt...rough. Scratchy. Unusual.

Her eyebrows creased and she pulled the necklace upward to examine it. It was no longer the fine gold chain and pendant she remembered. Instead it was a dull, grainy, metal-gray color, and Lily, deeply perplexed, pulled the pendant and chain above her nose for closer scrutiny. She felt it tug against the back of her neck, and then in one quick, astonishing moment, the chain snapped, and the two ends of it slid off her neck and dangled merrily in front of her.

Lily stared at the necklace with her mouth gaping open. She must have gasped or jerked when the necklace snapped off, because James stirred beside her.

"Wha's going on?" he mumbled. "You okay?"

Lily stared at her once-beautiful necklace, now dull and broken and tarnished, and emitted a noise of what she thought was affirmation. She must have sounded odd, however, because James rolled toward her and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"What's that?" He squinted at the chain in Lily's hands.

"My...my necklace," Lily murmured. "It...died."

Is there a better word for it? she wondered.

"Died? What do you mean, died?" James pushed himself onto his elbows to have a better look at it. "That's not your necklace," he decided, after squinting at it for a moment.

Lily sat up, annoyed, and tried to ignore the dizziness this caused. "Yes it is. It's just...changed...is all."

"Whoever attacked you must've switched your necklace for this one. That can't be yours," James protested, sitting up beside her.

--gasping for breath--enormous pressure on the--gasping, tugging--chest from--pulling, jerking--some dead weight--yanking, gasping, jerking--what could be--lolling, tugging--pressing down--shaking, yanking, pinching--so hard--wrenching, gasping, still gasping--then a jolt--a jerk--what--?

Lily's fingers curled around the necklace, and suddenly she was gasping, her hands at her chest, her throat, her mind racing--heart pumping--what--?

"Lily, what's wrong? Lily!"

Lily gasped violently and turned her head toward James, suddenly noticing his hand on her back--by her cheek--

"Nothing," she panted, trying to catch her breath. "It was just--I--it's nothing."

A small crease appeared between James's eyebrows. "Lily..."

"We should take this back to Schmundertoe," she said, curling up the chain in her hand. "I have to get it fixed."

"Fixed? Lily--are you really sure it's yours?"

"Yes. I've never taken it off before. It can't come off, remember?"

"Until just now, you mean."

"Until just now, yes," Lily agreed. She turned the pendant over in her palm. She wanted to wonder about what happened, but was afraid of what she might remember.

"And no one could have switched--"

"No, James."

Silence for a moment. James put a careful hand on Lily's shoulder. "Lily," he said gently, "you were unconscious for a long time. You were dy--well, when I found you, you were--"

"Dead," Lily interjected. "I know."

"Lily, you weren't--you couldn't have been--I mean, now you're--you're not--"

"Not dead," Lily agreed. "But I was for a little while. Until you came."

James frowned at her. "Lily, I don't understand."

"Me either," she agreed, running her fingers over the chain one more time before closing her fist around it and looking up at James. "But we have to go. We have to go find my mother, and then we have to go back to England."

"Your mother? Is...is she all right? Did something happen to her?"

"No, she's fine. At least as far as I know. But she'll be worried sick about me. And when I say we have to find her, I just mean...I'm not exactly sure where my cousin's apartment is. I'm still not really familiar with this city." Lily bit her lip and tried not to feel too embarrassed. "Of all the stupid things to get in the way of going home...."

James leaned over and kissed her temple. "We'll find her."

Lily let her head plop on his shoulder and held up her necklace, staring at the tarnished chain. She hadn't taken it off for over a year, and now...well, now it was...ruined.

"I hope so," she whispered, and let the chain fall onto the bed beside her.

Her neck felt naked without it. Bare and exposed and...oddly unprotected. She grabbed James's hand and closed her eyes against the sudden, inexplicable sense of loss.

Melody didn't want to be at home. She had too many awkward thoughts in her head, and sitting around watching the Muggle telly wasn't a very good way to sort through them.

Mostly she thought about Sirius. And Lucifer. They were so bloody opposite Melody was beginning to wonder how she could stand to like them both. Not that she really liked Lucifer, of course. Only...only he was more tolerable than he used to be. That was all.

Melody sighed and brought her knees to her chest, curling around like a cat to rest her head on the arm of the chair. This always looks more comfortable than it actually is, she reflected, wiggling about a bit to work the sudden crick out of her back. She couldn't quite see the telly from this angle, so instead she watched the glow it gave off flash across the carpet.

The telly was one of the things her mother and stepfather had bought after Melody had started helping them out with money. They had a bit larger house now, too, and weren't scrambling month to month to try to find enough money for food and clothes. That had been all Melody's doing. That had been good, hadn't it? Even with all the trouble it had caused...wasn't it still worth it?

After all, did it really matter who Melody married? Wasn't her family more important than herself? Wasn't that the logic that had gotten her here in the first place?

Money was such a stupid thing to have to worry about. Melody hated money. She hated that her mother had to worry about it, hated that her siblings had to suffer because of it, and hated, hated, hated the lengths people would go through to get it. Like Hans. Bloody hell, she hated Hans. He had no idea--no idea--what he'd done to Melody. Maybe he thought he did, but...

Never mind the bastard.

Then there was Lucifer. Lucifer who had so much money he never had to worry about it, except when he had to think about how to make more money. Shouldn't she hate him as well? He was part of the same frivolous, stupid, greedy world Hans had been. And Catalina, too. What was Catalina doing wasting her time with those idiots? But no...Melody couldn't hate Catalina. At least not any more than she could hate herself. Catalina had her reasons. Maybe love had been one of them, once. Was it possible she really had loved Hans?

Anything was possible, Melody supposed. There was a reason her father had talked about Hans the way he had. With affection, respect, humor, and...love? Was it love Melody's father had regarded Hans with, or just...nostalgia? The memory of love. When she was little she'd been so sure it was love. Were you wiser about love when you were little? Or just more gullible?

It used to be so easy to say "I love you." Melody had loved her parents, her friends, her teachers, her babysitters, her kitten, her stuffed animals, her bloody local librarian...did it mean less, the more people you loved? Or did it make any difference at all? When you got older, you tended to use the word love less. Until you became a parent, she supposed. Then you had the words "I love you" practically floating out your arse. How terrifying it must be to be a parent. So full of love, but so full of worry that something will happen to the person you love. To the person who, for the first time, you have total responsibility for. To care for. To protect.

Besides your husband, of course. Theoretically, anyway. Perhaps? Supposing you had a husband, that is. One who wasn't a total ass. Or a drunkard. Or...what have you.

But no. Melody didn't want to think about husbands right now. Not husbands or marriage or having babies. It was too much to process.

She suddenly realized how tired she was. Not tired physically, but...emotionally. She'd been running for so long. Running on fear, panic, guilt...trying to get out of this damn mess...and now, theoretically, she was out on the other side. She should have been able to relax.

But she couldn't. She still felt like she was fighting against something. What, though? Was it marriage? Was it money, still? Her conscience, maybe? Or was it Lucifer? Or...Sirius?

It had felt so good to give in, finally. To let it all out. To confess it all to Sirius.

Well...almost all.

Why hadn't she been able to tell him everything? No, that was stupid. She knew why. She couldn't stand the thought of him thinking she was just using him. Because she wasn't. First of all, it was more complicated than that. Second of all, her original stupid reasons for decided to finally confess her feelings to him didn't hold up anymore. She didn't need him for anything...she just wanted him. And she'd always wanted him. And wasn't that enough?

But the bloody fight they'd had yesterday morning...why did it seem like she was always fighting with him? Was it all her secrets that were keeping them apart? But they didn't have those anymore. Not really. She needed to explain this to Sirius. She couldn't keep fighting with him like this. She didn't have the stamina for it. She couldn't take him doubting, questioning, criticizing anymore. And maybe he was right. Maybe he had good points about everything. Maybe she was bloody stupid to have stayed and had lunch with Malfoy.

But she didn't want Sirius to harangue her for it. She was feisty and spirited and enjoyed a good healthy row every once in a while, but she was just...so...tired. She needed someone on her side for once. She needed someone to take care of her.

She needed Sirius to take care of her.

Suddenly she wanted to see him very, very much. She wanted to apologize, wanted everything to be all right. But most of all, she wanted him to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything would be all right. Never mind that neither of them knew if it would be all right. Sometimes...sometimes there were just things you needed to hear.

Like...she needed to hear that he loved her. He did, she thought, but she still wanted him to say it.

Melody uncurled and sat up, sighing. She'd barely been home for a day, but she needed to leave again. She'd stayed up all night trying to process her thoughts, and now that they had some sort of direction, she wanted to follow them. And the farther her thoughts guided her away from Lucifer Malfoy, the better.

He could take care of you, her mind whispered. Melody's mind rattled at the thought of giving in. Of trusting. Of allowing someone else to take the burden for her.

Bugger off, she told herself. So could Sirius.

Yeah, the other voice whispered nastily. But he hasn't exactly offered, now has he?

Shut up, Melody told herself, and stood up. The voice went silent, but still...it was there. She hurried out of the living room and tried to ignore herself.

The real question now was...where should Melody go to find Sirius? In London he'd said he was going to go meet with his parents, so perhaps he'd gone home with them...but just because he'd gone home with them, it didn't mean he was still there. He was much more likely to end up at James's house. James's house wasn't really on the way to Sirius's house from Melody's, but it was still closer than Sirius's place, and besides, it never hurt to stop off at Potter's Cottage for a visit.

Melody went upstairs to collect her traveling cloak, wand, and broomstick. Once she'd fastened her cloak and pulled on the pair of nice new flying gloves Sirius had given her for Christmas, she took out her wand and regarded herself in the mirror.

"Inconspicuous," she said to herself. "Just think blend." She was trying to remember one of the few spells Moody had tried to teach them during Auror Training. It was fairly tricky, and it had to be performed silently, which made it slightly trickier.

She gathered her thoughts about her and lifted her wand, silently casting the spell as she tapped herself on the head.

She felt rather like she was being covered in runny egg yolk, which was a bit unpleasant, but the effect of the spell was lovely. Melody watched as her body took on the appearance of the things around her, brightening to a faint blue color until she roughly resembled the paint on her walls.

Satisfied, Melody stuck her wand back into her robes, and, clutching her broomstick, made her way to the window.

Lily was unexpectedly reunited with her cousin. Molly came bursting into the bedroom, half-hysterical, throwing questions at Lily faster than she could answer.

"Lily! Dear God, you're all right. Where were you? What the hell happened? Who the hell is this? Is this your boyfriend? Isn't he supposed to be in England? What the hell is he doing here? Where the hell have you been? Your mom's going completely insane. Why did you just leave like that? How could you just leave like that? I'm glad you're okay. But I can't believe you're here. How the hell did you end up here? Do you even know this boy? I thought you didn't know anyone in New York, and--holy shit, Lily, you scared the hell out of everyone!" Molly sat down on the bed and gave Lily an abrupt hug, which she awkwardly returned.

James was looking a bit awkward, scratching his head and trying to slide out of bed. This was particularly tricky, Lily expected, because she was sitting on part of his leg.

"Well, first things first," Lily said. "Molly, this is my boyfriend James. James, meet my cousin Molly."

"Er, hi," James said, and gave a little wave.

"Hi," Molly said briskly, and turned back to Lily. She cupped a hand around one side of her mouth and stage-whispered to Lily. "You weren't kidding when you said he was cute."

James's face reddened considerably.

Lily cleared her throat. "Thanks, Molly."

"Anyway, what are you doing here? You haven't answered any of my questions."

Lily looked at James, feeling a bit panicked. They hadn't exactly figured out what they were going to tell her family yet. She certainly couldn't tell them the truth. Especially not her clueless Muggle relatives. Her mother and sister (whether Petunia liked it or not), at least, had some grasp of the wizarding world.

Paolo cleared his throat from the doorway. "I think," he said carefully, "it would be best if she did not answer all those questions right now."

"Why the hell not?" Molly demanded. "Who says it's any of your business, anyway? How the hell do you even know her?" She turned to Lily and jabbed a thumb over her shoulder at Paolo. "How the hell do you even know him?"

Lily opened her mouth, but wasn't sure what to say, and no sound came out. How did she know him? She'd never met him before, of course, but still--she had this strange little inkling--it was something about the name--she knew she'd heard it before, she just couldn't think where....

"I think you should listen to my son," said another voice from the door. "And please stop using those words. There are young children here."

Molly looked like she wanted to argue, but one look from Mama and she shut her mouth.

"I hope you're not talking about us," said another, louder voice from behind Mama. Bridget DeBeauvois managed to push her way into the room. Lin slipped in silently behind her. "If something's going on, I think we have a right to know about it."

"Who the he--who are they?" Molly demanded, looking even more confused. "Are they English, too? How the heck did all these people get here from England? Lily, you didn't say any of your friends were in town. Why are they--I mean, how are they--" She spent a moment looking very lost for words, and then turned on Lily and pointed her finger straight at Lily's face. "You need to start explaining all this to me."

Lily looked helplessly at James, and then at Mama. Mama mercifully took control of the situation.

"Calm down, please," she said, and Molly looked too befuddled to argue. "These three need to go home." She indicated James, Bridget, and Lin. James wrapped his arm around Lily's waist, as though in protest, but Mama ignored him. "And you need to be with your family," she said to Lily. "And you," she added, looking at Molly, "will have everything explained to you as soon as that happens. I would like to go with you and help explain."

Molly nodded silently, but Bridget, Lin, and James all burst into protest. Mama shushed them all quickly, and spent a few long moments staring back and forth between Lily, James, Lin, and Bridget. "Okay," she said finally. "We will all go meet Lily's family together. And then you will all go back to England."

Sirius couldn't do anything useful, so he panicked instead. He went to the Owlery inside Potter's Cottage and sent off frantic owls to Remus, Peter, Mimi, and Melody. He had remained calm while talking to Mrs. Evans only because he hadn't wanted her to have an emotional breakdown. (He couldn't handle another female emotional breakdown. He'd been experiencing an alarming number of them lately, and they needed to stop.) He reflected though, as the owls flew off into distance (except for Melody's, which for some reason decided it would be nice to fly down the staircase instead), that perhaps the message JAMES AND LILY IN MORTAL PERIL, PLEASE COME AT ONCE was only going to cause more panic.

But at least it conveyed a sense of urgency.

Speaking of which, very urgent footsteps were now making their way up the stairs toward the Owlery. That's odd, Sirius thought. Why would Mrs. Potter be running up here at this time of night?

The owl that Sirius had just sent off to Melody flew in and settled itself comfortably on its perch. Sirius opened his mouth to curse the damn thing, but noticed with curiosity that it was no longer carrying its letter. Owls didn't just randomly drop their mail and come back to rest in the Owlery. How odd.

The frantic footsteps reached the top of the stairs and came to an abrupt halt.

"Mortal peril? What d'you mean, mortal peril?"

Sirius turned around, and his whole face split into a grin of relief. "Melody! You got here fast." He was even forgetting how annoyed with her he was. It was such a relief to have someone here he could panic with.

Melody rolled her eyes. "That's because I was already here when you sent the owl, dummy. Now what's this all about?"

Sirius ignored the fact that his girlfriend had just called him a dummy, as well as the fact that he had no clue as to why she would be here in the first place, and walked across the Owlery to kiss her. Apparently Melody objected to this, because she pulled her lips away.

"I thought you were mad at me," she said, frowning.

"I am," Sirius agreed. "But with James and Lily in mortal peril, right now I'm just glad you're alive."

"Sirius, what is all this mortal peril business? Are Lily and James really--"

But Sirius didn't have time for silly questions. He had a point to prove. He grabbed Melody's face with his hands and kissed her again. Apparently Melody objected less this time, because she dropped her broomstick and stood on her toes to kiss him back.

He was still furious with her, of course. She never should have stayed to have lunch with Malfoy. She never should have lied to him about all of that business with her uncle. And she never, never should have tried to exploit Sirius for his money.

She hadn't actually admitted this, of course. She'd denied it quite believably. But he knew how Melody's mind worked. She could be mercenary when she wanted to be. Completely task-focused, without regard for her or anyone else's emotions. And that disturbed Sirius a little. He could never use his friends for his own personal gain.

Although according to Melody, it wasn't personal. Well, it wasn't for herself. It was all for her family. And if that was true, then at least she wasn't being self-serving. At least she knew where her loyalties were. It was just the methodology she used that disturbed Sirius.

But...God. When she wanted to be, she could be completely, utterly beautiful. Absolutely fun and goofy and carefree and just...happy. He missed that side of Melody. He felt like he hadn't seen it for a long time.

And that was why he'd gotten her the other Christmas present. He just...hadn't had time to give it to her yet. He was waiting for the exact right moment.

And this...well, this was definitely not it.

This was definitely a moment for Sirius to enjoy the very healthy physical aspect of their relationship. Melody was becoming very excellent at kissing. She'd been good before, of course, but now she was learning just exactly what to do to make Sirius--

Holy--holy--holyhead HARPIES, he thought, before thoughts escaped him entirely. Any appropriate thoughts, anyway. Melody's hands had apparently decided to go exploring, and somehow they'd ended up under his shirt. She appeared to be having some trouble moving around in there. Sirius considered taking his shirt off entirely.

Then the smell of fresh owl dung wafted to his nose.

This was entirely the wrong place for a snog, he realized, and reluctantly pulled his lips away from Melody's.

"What--what's the matter?" she asked, slightly short of breath. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Ah, no," Sirius said, but guided her hands away from his chest and out from underneath his shirt. It wasn't that he minded, exactly; he was just having a little trouble concentrating with them there. "I was just thinking--maybe we ought to continue this somewhere else."

"Oh," Melody said, and then wrinkled her nose. Apparently she'd caught the aroma of fresh owl droppings as well. "Good point." She carefully gathered up her broom and took Sirius's hand as they left the Owlery.

"Are those the gloves I got you?" he asked.

"Of course. They're wonderful."

"Good."

They were silent as they descended the staircase. When they reached the bottom, Melody stopped and tugged at his hand, turning him toward her. "Sirius," she said, frowning, "not that I'm complaining or anything, but...aren't you supposed to be mad at me?"

"Oh, I am," he assured her. "I'm still quite furious with you."

Melody's golden-brown eyes widened. "Oh."

"Yes," Sirius agreed.

"But then...why are we..."

"Having a major snog?" Sirius supplied, and Melody nodded. "It's actually quite simple. See, something bad is happening to Lily and James right now, as far as I can tell. Or--something bad has happened to one of them, anyway. And I just figured--if Lily and James can't keep out of trouble, then there isn't much hope for the two of us, so I had better get around to telling you how I feel before it's too late, and if something happens to either of us at least you won't go on thinking I hate you."

"I've never thought you hated me."

"Oh. Well, that's good then."

"I just thought you were angry with me."

"Well, I am a bit, yeah. But you know...I thought you might need some reassurance that I still love you."

"That you what?"

"What?"

Melody frowned. "Sirius. You heard my question."

"And I think you heard me pretty clearly, too, so why is there confusion?"

"I thought maybe I was imagining things."

"Imagining what? That I said I still loved you?"

"Yeah. That. That's it. That's the one."

"Well, why wouldn't I?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know. See, the problem I'm having here is, I don't remember you officially telling me you loved me for a first time. So for you to say you still do kind of implies that you thought I was aware that you loved me in the first place, and...why are you giving me that look?"

"I told you ages ago that I loved you. Apparently you didn't want to hear it then, though, and you kind of just...stomped on my heart instead."

"You don't have to be so dramatic about it. I was just trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what?"

"My uncle, of course. But all of that's over now, right?"

"According to you it is."

"It is," Melody said, softly but harshly. "But I still maintain that you've never told me you love me."

"I did though. At the end of last summer."

"You did not."

"I did so!"

"When?"

"In the library. Here at Potter's Cottage. When you rejected me, remember?"

"Yeah, no, I remember that. But I don't recall you ever saying the words 'I love you.'"

"Well I did."

"You said you were crazy about me. You said you had feelings for me. You never said the word love."

"I'm sure I said the word love."

"Well, not in regards to me, then."

"Are you sure?"

"I think I'd remember that, Sirius. It's only the kind of thing I've been waiting my whole life to hear. Not that it's, you know, really important to me or anything."

"Hm. Well, this is kind of awkward. Are you absolutely sure I never--"

"Yes, Sirius."

"Oh. Well, then." Sirius brought a hand to her face. "Melody?"

"Yes, Sirius?"

"There's something I should probably tell you."

"Yeah?"

"You're bloody gorgeous."

"Why thank you, Sirius."

"And I'm in love with you."

The next hour was a complete and total blur. There were a lot of hysterics, Lily recalled. She walked in the door of Molly's flat to discover her mother, aunt, and uncle giving the police a detailed physical description of her. Her mother went crazy and nearly crushed her with a hug. Molly's parents sat down at the kitchen table, sagging with relief. Petunia just rolled her eyes and poured herself another glass of wine.

The policemen were polite but annoyed, and left quickly to address another, more serious investigation. Mama took control, directing traffic until they were all either clustered or seated about the kitchen table, and launched into a semi-logical explanation concerning Lily's whereabouts for the last forty-eight hours. Lily didn't remember anything she said. She was too busy trying to battle the feeling of overwhelming guilt and sickness churning in her stomach. Every few minutes or so, when she felt a little better, she would glance at her mother's face, and that would start the guilt and illness all over again.

How could she have done this to her mother? How could she put what was left of her family through this again? It was all her fault. She never should have gone upstairs.

It was a ridiculous thing to think, but she couldn't help feeling responsible. She was a witch, damn it. Shouldn't she have been able to tell danger was coming? Shouldn't she have been able to escape? Shouldn't she have done bloody something to prevent it?

She groped at her neck for her necklace, but it wasn't there. She became sadly aware that the mangled little chain was now curled up in her pocket. She groped for James's hand, and fiddled with his fingers instead. He held her hand reassuringly, though at this point Lily thought that reassurance wasn't quite enough. She needed...security. She needed to really feel safe. She needed her mother to stop looking like...like...that.

Lily became aware that Mama was discussing the return of Lin, Bridget, and James to England. James was currently protesting his inclusion in this group.

"I'm staying with Lily," he insisted, and Mama frowned.

"She should be with her family. So should you. And where will you stay? It is rude to invite yourself."

"I'll sleep on the floor in the hall if I have to. I don't care. This is where I want to be."

Molly's parents looked as though they were about to invite James to stay with them, but Lily spoke first.

"You should go back," she said softly, and everyone looked at her. James stared in open shock. She squeezed his hand before continuing. "And I should go back with you." She looked at her relatives as apologetically as she could manage. "I'm sorry. It's been wonderful to see you, and I want to share the holidays with you, but....I need to be back home," she finished quietly.

"Sweetie," her mom said, "we ought to talk about this before--"

"No, mum," Lily said, even more quietly. "I can't stay here."

Mrs. Evans frowned at her daughter for a moment, and then took a minute to consider her, and James, and then to consider her family, and Petunia (who was still clutching her glass of wine), and then she looked back at Lily again and sighed. "All right," she agreed. "But however you get there, do it safely, and let me know the moment you get back. Petunia and I will return after New Year's, as planned."

Petunia's eyes widened considerably over the top of her wine glass. Her face twitched a little, as though she were trying to fight back a--smile? Lily decided to ignore her sister.

"Thanks, mum," Lily said, and looked over at Mama.

"We thank you for your hospitality," she announced. "We should all be going now."

Lily glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight. By the time they got to a Floo Port and got back to England, with the time difference, it would be mid-morning.

"Oh, no," Mrs. Havernaugh protested. "You don't have to leave so quickly. If any of you would like to stay for the night, you're more than welcome--I'm sure we've got plenty of room--and if you're hungry we can fix you something before you go--"

But her protestations were cut short by a general desire to return home as quickly as possible. The Havernaughs tried to give them cab fare to the airport, not understanding, of course, that no airport was necessary, but Mama assured them she had it all taken care of. She herded Lily, James, Lin, Bridget, and Paolo (who, for whatever reason, had insisted on coming along) out of the apartment complex and down several side streets to the nearest magical community.

When they reached the International Floo Port some time later, Paolo's reason for coming became apparent.

"I want to go with you," he told them. "Please, Mama, don't look like that. I have been saving for years trying to get back to Europe, and--I think this is the best chance I'm going to have. No, Mama, I'll come back, I promise. But I have to go do this."

Lily was amazed at the amount of communication Mama could engage in without speaking. Mama stared Paolo down for a few moments, and then, reluctantly, her gaze softened. "Be careful, Paolo," she warned. "If anything happens, your sister and brothers--"

"I know, Mama," Paolo said, and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. "I will do everything I can."

Mama looked oddly distressed, and Lily wondered what was going on that she didn't know about.

And then, suddenly, it all clicked. "Paolo from America" Paolo. "Paolo seeking revenge for the death of his father" Paolo. Paolo with his wonderful Mama and his brothers and little sister--Melody's Paolo!

"Oh, my God, you're Paolo," Lily blurted out, and everyone turned to look at her oddly.

"Si," Paolo agreed, looking at her as though maybe she hadn't quite recovered from her death experience. "I am Paolo."

"Are you feeling all right?" James asked.

"Yes, I'm fine, but...you...I know you," she informed Paolo, whose expression only became more confused. "I mean, I don't actually know you--we've never actually met, but--you--you're Melody's Paolo. You know Melody," she said dumbly.

Paolo's eyes widened. "Melody? You mean--Melody Cauldwell. From England?"

Lily nodded, still feeling rather dumbstruck.

Paolo laughed. "How incredible! Do you think I will see her when I go back with you?"

"One way to find out," James said, holding up their recently purchased bag of Floo Powder. "We need to get going before the Port closes on us."

He tossed the powder onto the fire, and one by one they stepped into the flames.

Melody and Sirius stayed up most of the night. When they shuffled into the kitchen the next morning, bleary-eyed, grumpy and propelled mostly by the thought of breakfast, it was to discover that Peter Pettigrew had arrived during the night.

"Sirius!" Peter cried, abandoning his eggs. He jumped out of his chair and rushed over to where Sirius was standing, right inside the swinging door that led to the kitchen. Sirius regarded him through one half-open eye.

"Morning, Wormtail," he mumbled. "Have a good trip?"

"A good trip? Are you insane?" Peter demanded. "You said James and Lily were in mortal peril! I had to sneak out of the house at four this morning and flag down the Knight Bus to get here--and I didn't even come here, I went to your house first--made the mistake of waking up your mum, too--and when I finally got here, you weren't even awake, so how d'you expect me to be, eh?" He was looking rather twitchy, Melody thought.

"Calm down, Pettigrew," she said, yawning. "No need to get so worked up before breakfast." She shuffled to the table and plopped down, requesting several sweet, unhealthy muffins.

"Sorry about that, old pal," Sirius said, patting him on the back. "I may have overreacted just a tad."

"A tad?" Peter repeated. "FOUR IN THE MORNING, PADFOOT! I ought to--to--bite you!"

"Come now, Peter," Melody said from the table. "No need to start spreading the bubonic plague before breakfast."

Peter turned and glared at her, his nose twitching in annoyance. When he turned back to Sirius, it was to discover that Sirius's teeth were bared, and looking rather more canine-like than they had a moment ago. Peter's eyes widened as Sirius's ears became black and pointy and his mouth began elongating into a snout.

"Care to run that by me again, Peter?" he said, his voice low and rumbly.

"I don't think there's any call for that, Sirius!" Peter said, his voice a bit squeaky.

"Play niffe, boys," Melody said, talking around a bit of poppy seed muffin. She swallowed. "No need for manslaughter before breakfast."

Sirius growled at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"HELLO? Is anyone in HERE?" The door to the kitchen suddenly swung open, hitting Sirius smartly in the back of the head.

Sirius yelped, and his features rapidly returned to normal.

"Oh my God!" Mimi gasped. "Sirius, are you all right?"

"Mmpff," Sirius said, in what seemed to be a positive tone of voice.

"Maybe we should--should get you some ice," Mimi said, and in an instant a house-elf appeared beside her with a packet of ice.

Melody leapt up from her chair and walked over to Sirius, pulling out her wand. "I don't think that's necessary." She tapped Sirius on the head with her wand and cast a silent spell to dull the pain.

"Oh," Mimi said softly, looking down at the packet of ice in her hands.

"Ow," Sirius whined, rubbing the spot where Melody had tapped him with her wand.

Melody rolled her eyes. "That didn't hurt, don't be such a baby." Sirius pouted at her, and she rolled her eyes again. "Fine, then use the stupid ice if you think it will help."

Mimi narrowed her eyes at Melody's back as Melody walked back over to her seat. She threw the ice across the kitchen into the sink. "I was just trying to be helpful," she snapped. "And I don't think ice was such a stupid idea."

"Sorry," Melody said, her eyes widening. "I didn't mean to make you mad, I just--"

"Just thought I was being stupid."

"Er--well--what's the point really, if you've got a wand?"

"You don't have to solve everything by magic. And you don't have to insult me about it, either. We've had a very long night of it, and I'm tired and hungry and grumpy and don't need you acting all--superior."

Melody's eyebrows raised until her face was set in a rather unfriendly expression. "Well, you don't need to get all defensive, I was just--wait. We? Who is 'we'?"

"I was visiting Remus. We came here together."

"Remus is here? Well where is he then?" Sirius demanded.

"Right here," Remus said, coming in through the other door to the kitchen.

"What took you so long?" Peter asked.

"What, can't a fellow go to the bathroom?"

"Apparently you shouldn't," Mimi said. "While you were gone your girlfriend got harangued for wanting to use an ice pack."

"What? I did not harangue you, and--wait, girlfriend? What d'you mean, 'girlfriend'?" Melody demanded.

Mimi and Remus both went rather red.

"Remus, you dog!" Sirius said, grinning.

"You would know," Remus said, grinning back.

There was a sudden pop!, and then there was a house-elf in the kitchen tugging on Sirius's pant leg.

"Sir!" he squeaked. "Master James is back, sir! He is coming in through the fireplace, with Miss Lily."

The teenagers wasted no time in hurrying out of the kitchen and into the great room, where an enormous Christmas tree sat sparkling against the bay window, and where James, Lily, and three rather less familiar people were standing in front of the fireplace brushing soot off their clothes.

"Lily!" Melody screeched, and threw her arms around her best friend.

"Melody! What are you doing here?" Lily asked before releasing her. She looked around and frowned in confusion. "Mimi--Sirius--Peter--Remus--why are you...I mean, this is wonderful, but how are you all here?"

"It's all Sirius's fault," Mimi said, giving her a quick hug. "He sent us these." She fished around in her pocket for a moment, and then produced the owl she'd gotten from Sirius and handed it to Lily.

"'James and Lily in mortal peril, please come at once'?" Lily read, and then groaned. "Sirius...are you serious?"

"What?" Sirius said. "Are you trying to tell me you weren't in mortal peril?"

"Well, I--I mean--but how could you possibly--I was--you haven't--um...well, no. I can't say that I wasn't in mortal peril. But still--that doesn't explain how you could've known about it."

"You mean you were really in danger?" Mimi said, her face growing pale. "I thought--I thought Sirius was half-joking."

"He was half-joking," Melody said, and then noticed that one of the strangers behind Lily and James seemed to be staring at her. She glanced at him, and then glanced again. Her eyes widened in recognition, and dark, handsome Paolo grinned his sexy Italian grin.

"Lily," Mimi said, frowning, "who exactly is with you? And--um--why?"

"Oh!" Lily said, turning around and blinking at the three people behind her as though she'd forgotten about them. "Well, why they're here might take a while to explain, but for now...this is Lin and Bridget," she said first. "They're in Gryffindor. And this is Paolo. He's from America. Paolo, meet Peter, Remus, Sirius, Mimi, and--well, I guess you already know Melody."

Paolo grinned even wider and nodded. "It is good to see you again."

Sirius stared back and forth between Melody and Paolo. "Wait. This is Paolo? The one who sent the letter that got us in that horrible fight? This is the Paolo from last summer?"

"Fight? What fight?" Paolo asked, looking concerned.

Melody, however, was off in another world. She stood staring at Paolo in dumbfounded shock. "Hi," she said finally. "This is Sirius," she said, pointing.

"Ah," Paolo said, and Melody saw the recognition flash in his eyes. "I take it things worked out then?"

"Mm," Melody agreed, nodding. She was still staring at him. Why was she still staring at him?

Apparently Paolo didn't mind, though, because his grin came creeping back.

Sirius, apparently bothered by this, stomped across the room and put his arm around Melody's shoulders, pulling her toward him rather roughly.

Melody looked over at him. "Hi there, Sirius," she said vaguely, before her gaze slipped back to Paolo.

"Hang on a minute," came the very demanding voice of Bridget. "No one's bothered to explain to us yet how the hell you two know each other." She shoved her way in between Lily and James and stared back and forth at Melody and Paolo.

"It's kind of a long story," Melody said faintly.

"She went to America with her uncle and met him there last summer," Sirius said flatly.

"Oh," said Bridget.

An actual expression crept its way onto Melody's face. Confusion, she thought. That was it. "Um," she said, still staring at Paolo. "Not that I mind, but...what are you doing here, exactly?"

"I told you I would come," he said. "But, of course, this is not the way I had planned." He shrugged and grinned again.

Melody's eyes widened. "Oh," she said. "Your--your father."

Paolo nodded, looking serious again.

"Hang on," Bridget said. "That doesn't explain anything. I haven't understood a bloody thing that's gone on for the past three days, and I didn't drag myself halfway around the world for nothing. Somebody had better sit down and explain this all to me."

The older teenagers all looked over Bridget's head at each other.

"Well," Lily said slowly, "you do seem to have gone through an awful lot of trouble. And--I'm afraid I still don't understand how you got to America in the first place. Maybe we had better sit down somewhere and work this all out." She looked at James.

"Indoor gardens," he decided. "But first--is anyone else hungry?"

Several people were about to assert their hunger, but a voice from the top of the stairs stopped them.

"FIRST, YOUNG MAN, I THINK YOU HAD BETTER EXPLAIN WHERE THE HELL YOU'VE BEEN THE PAST THREE DAYS, WHO ALL OF THESE PEOPLE ARE, AND--WHY IN GOD'S NAME IS LILY WITH YOU? ISN'T SHE SUPPOSED TO BE ON ANOTHER CONTINENT?"

James took a big gulp before turning around and looking up at the stairs.

"Mum! How smashing good of you to join us. We were just about to have a nice long talk about everything that's been going on. Now, before you kill me--are you sure you wouldn't like to offer these nice people some food?"

Bellatrix limped into the flat. The Dark Lord's latest assignment had been neither easy nor fruitful, and doubly bad because Siegfried, the useless bastard, hadn't even bothered to show up for it. Bellatrix was just glad the Dark Lord wasn't blaming her for his absence--and also because it appeared he hadn't heard about that nasty business in America. What did one dead Mudblood matter, anyway?

Except--except that Bellatrix hadn't felt quite right for days. Whatever that sodding necklace had done to her, it had done it well. She felt like the hairs on her arms were almost constantly raised, and the other night when a thunderstorm had rumbled through London--bloody hell, she hadn't been able to sleep.

She limped her way to the bathroom, hoping to find some salve or lotion to rub on her scratches. Instead she found Siegfried, passed out by the toilet, an empty bottle of bourbon lying next to his fingers. Splatters of puke decorated the toilet seat.

Bellatrix had been out for nearly two days running for her life, fighting a chimaera, watching two of her best friends from Durmstrang get positively mangled, and Siegfried had been lounging around the apartment drinking Muggle bourbon and getting pissed? Oh, no. Fuck no.

"You bloody--useless--BASTARD!" she screamed, and gave him a good solid kick in the groin.

He wouldn't understand why, but he would hurt like hell there when he woke up.

Bellatrix grabbed the first bottle of ointment she saw from the cabinet and limped toward the bedroom, feeling nearly satisfied for the first time in days.