The morning of the Quidditch final is overcast with dull, grey, heavy clouds. Lily, looking out her dormitory room window, scowls a bit at it.

"Don't worry. The clouds will burn off before the match," Glynis says, from across the room and without so much as a glance at the window, and in that cheerfully sure way she has of being certain of things she can't possibly be certain of.

Glynis is almost invariably correct, however, about things she says in that particular manner, so Lily turns her attention away from the sky and to the three of her roommates who aren't on the Quidditch team. Cliona was gone when Lily woke up, though whether there actually was some sort of planned dawn team meeting or she just couldn't sleep, Lily doesn't know.

She is not, however, at all surprised to discover that while the Gryffindor common room is practically vibrating with energy and the hum of voices, there's no sign of Cliona, James, or their teammates.

They've been fairly scarce these last few weeks, as the final gets closer and the practices get longer. Lily has mostly seen her boyfriend in classes, at meals, and on the handful of occasions they've managed to be in the common room at the same time. (And if Lily has, once or twice, taken advantage of those occasions to slip completed copies of some of the more time-consuming Potions assignments into James' bag, well, what of it?)

But it's finally here, the last match of the year, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, with the Quidditch Cup on the line. One way or the other, it'll be over and done with in a few hours.

It's felt different this year than it did last year, the run-up to the final game. Partly because, while Gryffindor and Ravenclaw both want to win (and both can reasonably expect to), and while each house is perfectly capable of being a bit snide about the other when the occasion calls for it, it's not like it is with Gryffindor and Slytherin (but then, what it?). And partly because, Lily thinks, it's all so different between her and James this year. There's been no grand promise to win the Quidditch Cup for her this time around, and she's glad. Because the game has enough riding on it in and of itself, and because while Lily definitely wants James to win, she wants James to win for himself and his teammates and Gryffindor. Not for her.

The clouds have, as predicted by Glynis, burned off by the time the students reach the stands and it's a perfect day for a Qudditch game. Lily takes a spot between Mary and Remus, which cannot properly be called a seat because none of them do all that much sitting during the match. It's not the sort of match you sit through.

Because it is, as the teams mount their brooms and the Snitch darts out of sight, really and truly anyone's game. Gryfindor and Ravenclaw are fielding incredibly good and evenly matched teams. Gryffindor has the better Chasers (of course), but Ravenclaw has the more accomplished keeper. If Ravenclaw has more precise Beaters, Gryffindor has more creative ones, and both teams use the Bludgers very effectively. And as for the Chasers . . . Raquel Clayworth and Ellery West are often little more than blurs of red and blue (respectively), weaving in and out of twelve other players, a referee, and three darting balls in pursuit of what appears to be a particularly elusive Snitch.

It's not just a good game, it's a great one, one for the record books, and so good in fact that Lily keeps finding herself watching the game instead of watching James. (And watching James is easily one of her very favorite ways to spend her time these days.) The team trades goals, and the lead, and the occasional foul for the better part of four hours. And the students watching the match cheer and gasp and occasionally hold their breath.

And like all great Quidditch matches, it ends abruptly and spectacularly, with Raquel Clayworth diving fifty feet almost impossibly vertically to close her hand around the Snitch. And there's a proper explosion of noise Gryffindor's end of the stands, and no one actually hears the announcement that Gryffindor has won 470-310.

But that's exactly what they've done.

James, Quaffle still in hand, spins 270 degrees in the air and looks straight at Lily -- never mind the distance from him to her -- with the Jamesiest of all Jamesish smiles. And for one second, Lily thinks her knees might have forgotten how to work.

Then James vanishes into a scarlet-clad, multi-armed, tangled mid-air hug of Quidditch players.

"Come on," Remus says, pulling her attention back to her immediate area. "We should move away from Sirius before we hear any plans for this evening's celebration which we cannot, as prefects, condone."

(And if that takes them down closer to the field and the players, well, again, what of it? There are congratulations to give, after all.)

"Nobody's going to sleep tonight, are they?" Lily asks, as they weave their way through a sea of cheering Gryffindors.

"Not a chance," Remus says.

Because Gryffindor -- and James -- just won the Cup.

And a celebration is definitely in order.

Lily is quite relieved when she looks out the train window and sees the outskirts of London.

Of course, now that she's reached London, she has to deal with her interview, but at least that's something to do. The problem with this trip is that there has been entirely too much thinking and entirely no doing of anything.

Now there will be plenty of doing things, starting with finding James, who is meeting her at Euston Station. She had mentioned, one afternoon at Hogwarts, that she wasn't actually sure how to get to Diagon Alley from the Muggle train station and did he know the closest Tube stop? And James had assured her that he would meet her at Euston Station and make sure she got to Diagon Alley safely and on time and not to worry about it at all.

The train rolls to a stop, and Lily picks up her handbag and makes her way with the jostling morning crowd out onto the platform.

All she has to do now is find James.

Or, more likely, wait for James to find her.

(He's showing an amazing talent for it, recently.)

Something is very wrong in Marauderland.

James and Black haven't spoken to each other since James' birthday. Peter has been going around with a nervous expression (not totally unlike the one worn by a kid whose parents are fighting). Remus seems to be spending an inordinate amount of time in the library, and she's starting to think he's deliberately avoiding her, too.

Of course, Lily is still less than completely well-pleased with any of them (especially Black). But this is not the natural order of things, and she'd have to be incredibly stupid not to realize that she's at the center of it, whether she wants to be or not.

"You look like you think I'm here to slap you," she tells Remus on Tuesday evening, sitting down at his table in the library without asking.

Remus looks down at the table and then back to her. "I wouldn't exactly blame you if you did."

"If I didn't slap James, I'm not going to slap you," Lily says.

Remus smiles a little. "What about Sirius?"

"Haven't decided yet," Lily says. She's mostly kidding.

Mostly.

"Still," Remus says, "I'm very sorry for my part in what happened. We all should have known better."

"Thank you," Lily says.

"I know you know this," Remus says, "but James knows how lucky he is."

Lily almost laughs. "Thank you," she says again. "How are things, with the four of you?"

She could ask James -- she has asked James -- but she'd like the impression from someone slightly removed from the blast site.

Remus shrugs a little. "A little cool."

"How much of an understatement is that?"

"A pretty significant one," Remus admits.

"I just don't understand why Black did what he did," Lily says. "I mean, I understand why he did it to me; he doesn't like me. I don't understand why he did it to James."

Remus sighs. "It's not that he doesn't like you, it's that he's scared of you. Or, I guess, he'd scared of what you represent."

"And what's that?"

"Lily, nothing in six years has ever taken James' time or attention away from us -- from Sirius -- the way you do."

"I'm not trying to take James away from any of you."

"I know that," Remus says. "But the simple fact of the matter is, well, sometimes you do. I'm not saying that you shouldn't. I mean, you're his girlfriend, you're entitled to some evenings and lunches with James. But I think Sirius worries that you could take all of James' time if you wanted. And that scares him. And even at the best of times, Sirius doesn't always think things through to their logical conclusion before he does them." Remus looks down for a moment, and Lily gets the feeling that they're not just talking about her and James' birthday any more.

"He doesn't always see what comes after the brilliant idea he thinks he's had," Remus continues. "It just doesn't occur to him that there will be repercussions, especially not if they'd be for people other than him. Sometimes I think ... I'm not sure anyone ever told Sirius where the lines you don't cross are, that there are things that are just beyond what you do, that there are limits. He didn't mean for James to get hurt. I don't think he even really meant for you to get hurt. I think he just wanted what he wanted, and he didn't think further than that."

"So he's six," Lily says, and Remus laughs.

"In a lot of ways, yeah. He's six."

It's not anything she hasn't kind of already worked out for herself, but it's nice to have someone else's opinion. Especially someone who knows everyone involved better than she does.

She's going to have to have a talk with James' best friend. She knows that.

But it takes her another day to actually go looking for him.

She finds him sprawled on a couch in the common room, flipping through a Quidditch magazine and managing to project that aura of Any second now, I will realize how bored I am and how boring all of you are and I will go some place where everyone is much more interesting and fabulous, and where I will realize that I am still bored and they are still boring because I am Sirius Black and the rest of the world isn't.

Lily's never been a fan of it.

But James is at tea with Dumbledore, and Peter and Remus aren't around, so it's probably as good a time as any to talk to Black.

Not that she knows what she's going to say, even after thinking about it since she talked to Remus.

But she'll figure it out, right?

"Black, have you got a minute?"

The hardest thing to get at Hogwarts is not, contrary to popular belief, an overt sign of approval from Professor Grindstaff.

It's privacy.

With hundreds of students living four and five to a bedroom, even a castle as big as Hogwarts can feel pretty crowded.

Still, most students have at least one place they go when they want fifteen minutes alone (or alone together), though not all of these places are as private as would be ideal.

Lily has a windowsill in a little niche in a stairwell. She and Mary found it as first years, after a series of wrong turns it still amazes Lily that they could recreate well enough to find it again. It's a stairwell that doesn't seem to be the most direct route to anywhere, so it's generally (but not always) a place that no one else will be.

It's where Lily's headed this evening. Not because anything is wrong, but just because she wants a few minutes to herself.

At least, that was the plan.

Before . . .

"Please, just leave me alone."

It echoes off the walls, from up ahead and around the corner.

And the slight distortion from the echo isn't enough to disguise Mary's voice.

Or Mulciber's.

"You can't go yet. You just got here."

Lily has her wand out before he's finished speaking. Just ahead, at the corner, she can see what she knows is Mary's wand, cherry and unicorn hair, lying on the stone floor, where it was dropped or, more likely, where it landed when Mary was disarmed. Lily moves as quickly as she can without letting her footsteps make any sound – surprise is one advantage she doesn't want to give away, here. She stops just long enough to collect Mary's wand, and then steps around the corner, her own wand level and ready in her left hand.

Mulciber is a few yards ahead, his back to her. At the other end of the short corridor, twenty-five feet or so away, is Avery. And trapped between them is Mary. They're not aiming spells quite at her – not yet – but a few feet to either side, watching her scuttle and twist to get out of the way of the bright green sparks that instead hit the stone walls.

It's worse, somehow.

And Lily just might be angrier than she has ever been in her life.

"That's enough," Lily says, in a loud, cold, steady voice.

Her wand is pointed at Mulciber – he's both a better wizard and a worse person than Avery. But she's not an idiot, she's expecting the curse Avery sends from his end of the hall. "Protego. Impedimentia," she says, and has her wand pointed back to Mulciber to block his spell, even as Avery hits the floor, struggling against the jinx. "Protego. I said that's enough," Lily says, moving toward Mary without ever taking her eyes off Mulciber.

"Evans," Mulciber says, with a leering sort of smile that makes Lily's skin crawl. "If you wanted to play, too, all you had to do was ask."

"We're leaving," Lily says, reaching Mary and handing her wand back to her. "You'll want to get out of our way now."

"Don't think I do, actually," Mulciber says.

"Then you won't like what happens next," Lily says, her eyes and her wand never leaving Mulciber.

Mulciber starts laughing. "Was that a threat, Evans?"

"Yes, it was. We both know you're not the best duelist in this corridor, don't we?"

"Maybe," Mulciber says. "But I'm not the one who's outnumbered."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lily sees Avery getting to his feet again.

"I don't think you can take both of us at the same time. Not for long. Not alone," Mulciber says.

"She's not alone," Mary says, though her voice isn't quite as steady as Lily would like.

Mary has many wonderful qualities, but this is not really her strong suit.

Lily can probably beat Mulciber or Avery, but Mulciber and Avery can probably beat Lily and Mary. Especially as she and Mary are stuck between them, a single target to the double one presented by the Slytherins.

Avery laughs, and those same green sparks shoot past them, a foot to Lily's left.

Mulciber doesn't waste his time with sparks. "Confringo."

"Protego," Lily counters, though she's going to have to get off the defensive to have any chance of getting out of this.

Especially if Mulciber is breaking out curses like that.

Spells flash up and down the corridor for more than a minute, leaving a scorch mark up the wall, blasting a suit of armor's arm off.

And then Avery manages to hit Mary with the same clothes tightening curse from last year, and Lily has to turn away from Mulciber to break it, because that spell will kill her, and it's all looking very bad until …

"Petrificus Totalus," says a voice behind Avery, and he falls forward to reveal Remus Lupin, wand already leveled at Mulciber. "Good evening, Lily. Mary. Mulciber. Avery," he adds, stepping over the fallen Slytherin and into the corridor.

Mary's sitting in the floor, catching her breath, but with the spell broken, Lily can turn her wand back to Mulciber as well. "Remus," she says. "Thank you for stopping by."

"Heard a commotion," Remus says. "Thought I'd check things out. Since I am a prefect."

This last is less conversational and more pointed, a reminder to Mulciber (and the still fallen Avery) of exactly who, and what, they're dealing with here.

"Yes," Mulciber says, with a sneer. "The Mudblood bitch and the half-blood freak. Is that really the best Gryffindor come up with for prefects?"

"Is that really the best you can come up with for an insult, you slithy frumious Bandersnatch?" Lily asks. "Fifty points from Slytherin. Each. For the most repulsive display of disrespect for a fellow student I have ever seen. Even from you. And please rest assured that Professor Slughorn will be hearing about this. Now take Avery and get the hell out of here."

Behind her, she can hear Remus break the jinx on Avery. She doesn't take her eyes off Mulciber, though. "This isn't over," he hisses, as he passes her and Mary.

"Yes, it is," Lily says.

Even though she's fairly sure it's not.

Remus follows them down the hall to the corner, wand still drawn, probably to make sure they're not planning to turn around and come back. Lily turns her attention to Mary. "Are you all right?"

"I'm not hurt," Mary says, which doesn't quite answer the question.

Lily hugs her, gently. "We should go to Slughorn," she says. She looks over Mary's shoulder at Remus. "Right now."

"I – " Mary says. She didn't want anyone to, in her words, 'make a big deal out of it' last year, and Lily suspects she'd like to just pretend this didn't happen, too.

"Mary," Lily says, "we have to. They're getting worse."

After a second Mary nods. "You'll come with me?"

"Both of us," Remus says, coming back over to join them.

"Thank you," Mary says.

"Of course," Remus says.

Professor Slughorn opens his door already in his dressing gown, takes one look at the three of them, and ushers them promptly into his large and not especially office-like office, sends for tea from the kitchens, and listens as they explain what has happened.

He summons first Professor McGonagall and then Madam Pomfrey, as "Suffocation Curses are nothing to take lightly, my dear girl."

Lily sits on the couch in the corner while Madam Pomfrey and the teachers fuss over Mary. Remus comes over to sit beside her. "Are you all right?"

"Me?" Lily asks. "I'm fine. Regretting that I didn't hex something off Mulciber that he'd miss while I had the excuse, but fine otherwise."

Remus smiles, just a little, just for a second, then his expression grows sober again. "What were you doing up there, anyway?"

Lily sighs. "There's a window in that stairwell. Mary and I both go there, when we need a place to think. Or we did. I suspect it's lost its appeal. What were you doing up there?"

"Nearly Headless Nick pointed me in your direction, actually. And then as I got closer, I heard the dueling."

"I'll have to thank him. It's a very good thing you showed up when you did," Lily says.

"You're welcome." There's a second of silence, and then Remus says, in a somewhat lighter tone, "What did you call him, again?"

Lily smiles faintly. "A slithy frumious Bandersnatch."

"Not what I was expecting," Remus says. "Probably not what he was expecting, either."

"Did you think my repertoire was limited to 'arrogant toerag'?" Lily asks.

"You were holding back on James, then."

"A little, maybe," Lily says.

"That's 'Jabberwocky,' right?"

Lily nods. "Yeah. He's lucky I didn't go for Shakespeare. There are some fabulous insults in Shakespeare."

"Save it for next time," Remus suggests.

"You think there'll be a next time?"

"You know there will," Remus says.

Lily looks over at Mary. "She doesn't go anywhere alone for a while," she says. "Not till Easter, anyway. Maybe for the rest of the year."

Muggleborn, Gryffindor, and not a terribly strong duelist. Lacking prefectorial authority, and shielded by neither a friendship with Snape nor a well-known connection to James Potter. Mary is the most obvious target.

She always has been.

Remus nods. "I'll tell the others."

"Good."

Madam Pomfrey decides Mary should spend the night in the hospital wing. Lily thinks she might be better off with her friends in Gryffindor Tower, but there's no sense arguing with Madam Pomfrey. She and Remus walk down with them, leaving to Professor McGonagall's assurances that the Headmaster will be hearing about this -- and handling it -- as soon as he returns to Hogwarts.

They pass a few other students on the way, and from the reactions, Lily is willing to bet that word has started getting around.

Madam Ponfrey throws them out after about twenty minutes, claiming that Mary needs to rest, and on that, at least, she and Lily are in complete agreement. Her own anger and the adrenaline are starting to wear off, and the exhaustion is starting to sink in. And Mary was the one who was properly attacked.

James reaches the hospital wing just as she and Remus are leaving, with an expression on his face that isn't quite like any expression Lily has ever seen there before.

Not that she takes long to study the expression on his face.

She doesn't even take the time to greet him.

Right now, Lily just kind of needs her boyfriend to hold her for a moment.

"If there are no more questions, you may find a partner, turn to page 357, and begin. One of you should record your observations at each stage of the preparation," Slughorn says. He pauses (and they all know it's a pause, for dramatic effect, and more is coming.) "Oh, and twenty points to the team that produces the best Epione Potion."

Lily likes the days Slughorn has them work in pairs.

Because (and she knows this is petty and childish, but she can't quite help it) it means that the one person in their year who might be as good at Potions as she is (and her former best friend) is going to be stuck working with the dead weight that is one of his fellow Slytherins.

And Lily?

Well, Lily gets to work with James.

It's amazing, sometimes, how little time it takes to feel like you've always been doing something.

Case in point: dating James Potter.

Related case in point: staying up all night when the moon is full, until James and the others cross back across the grounds and all is well.

And further related case in point: slipping off to the end of the universe to get a nap after staying up all night when the moon is full.

Which is why, a yawning Lily makes her way back down the stairs that lead up to the rooms above the main bar, sidesteps two waitrats, and heads over to Bar to return her room key.

Lily Evans' seventeenth birthday begins with an enormous party in the Gryffindor common room.

Of course, this party has nothing at all to do with Lily's birthday. It has, in fact, been going on for several hours when Lily's birthday begins, because Gryffidor had completely annihilated Slytherin in their Quidditch match. (Final score: 390 to 80, meaning Gryffindor would have won even if Raquel Clayworth hadn't beat Regulus Black to the Snitch, which she did, with a little help from some remarkably accurate Bludger batting by Sebastian Edeson. Word is that Regulus Black might have a broken nose. Again.)

And any Gryffindor victory requires a party, but that kind of victory, and over Slytherin requires a party. One that James is more or less stuck at the center of, as Captain and Star Chaser. Occasionally, he manages to escape his friends and fans and admirers long enough to talk to his girlfriend for a few moments, and the rest of the time, Lily is more or less gracious about having to share him with the rest of their House.

(Well, all right, so Serena Keddle might have had a little help spilling that butterbeer all down the front of her dress and fleeing in mortification, but, honestly, the whole giggle-and-hair-toss routine was annoying enough when James wasn't actually dating anyone. Now that he is ... )

It's a very nice way to begin a birthday, even though, looking at her watch at two past midnight, Lily suspects she's the only person in Gryffindor Tower who realizes it's the thirtieth already.

But of course she's wrong about that, because she's barely finished the thought when someone says, "Happy Birthday, Lily," from just behind her right shoulder, and she turns to find James there, with one of those very Jamesish smiles of his. It doesn't quite surprise her at all, not really, that he's been watching the clock all through his party for his win, so he can be the first person to wish her a happy birthday.

There's another party on Sunday, smaller and quieter and properly for Lily's birthday, with her roommates and James', after lunch (when they've all had the morning to recover from the late night before). James takes over the chairs in front of the fireplace (running off a couple of second years) and produces a cake that he no doubt talked Milty into making for him and a small box wrapped in gold paper.

"It's from all of us," James says.

"Even Sirius," Cliona puts in, cheerfully.

"Oy," Black objects, from the chair farthest from Lily's.

Lily opens the box to find a deep gold, oval-shaped locket on a long chain. There's a delicate, almost lace-like etching of links around the perimeter. It's got the same look as the hairpin she wears more days than not: simple, elegant, well-made -- James' style.

"It's a tradition," Perdita says, and Lily forces her attention from the locket to her friend. "When a witch turns seventeen, she gets a locket."

"Just like a wizard gets a watch," Peter adds.

"It's usually from your parents, but we didn't know that they would know," Glynis says.

"So James had the idea that we should do it," Remus says.

"It's beautiful," Lily says, carefully lifting it from the box. "Thank you." She's a little overwhelmed. "All of you."

"Open it," Mary says.

It takes Lily a second to find the rather cleverly hidden latch on the side. When she does, though, she finds tiny pictures of her parents looking up at her. And, small as they are, she can tell they're wizarding photographs, because the smiles shift a little, and they keep blinking.

Lily looks at James, stunned. "How on Earth did you ... ?"

"It was easy," says James with a grin. "Honestly, it didn't take much to get your parents involved; they were happy to do it. Just a quick trip out, a couple of bent rules and a prefect on our side." He exchanges a glance with Remus, who smiles innocently.

"Can't have an empty locket after all," Cliona says. "And it'll keep expanding, too," she adds, demonstrating with her own locket, which opens like an accordian, to reveal pictures of her parents, her sister, all her brothers, and her niece. "How ever many spaces you need or want, later."

"It's perfect," Lily says, slipping the chain over her head, then looking down at the locket again. "It's just perfect. Thank you."

Sirius clears his throat loudly and straightens. "Right, well. Now that that's done, can the lot of you stop acting like a bunch of girls and get on with the cake?"

Lily has always, in some ways, been happy to go back to Hogwarts when term begins again. She misses Hogwarts, misses her friends, misses magic, misses that whole ever-more-significant piece of her life.

And, this particular break, she has also missed James.

(Speaking of ever-more-significant pieces of her life.)

So, as much as she loves her parents, as much as she enjoys being home and spending time with them, it's with a certain amount of relief that Lily steps through the barrier, two steps ahead of her father, and onto Platform 9 3/4.

She might be standing up on her toes, just a bit, trying to get a better look at the crowd of students and parents waiting next to the Hogwarts Express.

The last day of term passes very pleasantly. Even at NEWT level, most of the teachers don't expect too much attention from students the day before Christmas Break. Dinner is cheerfully noisy, spirits are high, and everyone is talking about holiday plans. Slughorn's party is a giddy whirl of lights and music and mistletoe and James. Afterwards, Lily and her roommates stay up far too late, laughing and gossiping and exchanging gifts and eating the fudge Mary's mother makes and sends the last week of fall term every year.

Lily is yawning the next day as she makes her way down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express, so it's probably just as well that the biggest crisis she's asked to deal with is a window that won't stay closed in a compartment full of Ravenclaw first years.

She's on her way back to the prefects' compartment after charming the reluctant window shut, when a door to her right slides open and someone hisses, "Psst." A second later, James pulls her into the otherwise empty compartment and kisses her.

It's so very easy, kissing James.

Sometimes, she worries that it's too easy, because it seems like she could fall for him without half-trying, in that dizzying utter way of falling that it seems far too soon to even be aware of, nevermind considering. And it's not that she doesn't like him (because she really does) or doesn't want to like him (because she rather likes liking James), it's just that they're only sixteen and, even knowing what she knows about boys with her eyes and his hair, sometimes this all feels very ... fast.

(Except it's not, not really. They danced around this for so long before they ever made it official. She's not sure exactly how long, possibly all the way back to the night her asked her out at the end of the Universe, and certainly through all letters and conversations over the summer and fall, even the ones that went horridly awry.)

The break will be good for them, Lily decides a half an hour later, in the prefects' compartment, as they reach the outskirts of London and she swaps the Hogwarts robes she's worn over her Muggle clothes for her coat. Or, if not good than at least not bad. It will give things time to settle a little, give them both time to catch their breath (metaphorically and otherwise).

That's her theory until the train reaches King's Cross, anyway. The Hogwarts Express comes to a stop and Lily folds her robes and puts them in her suitcase as students spill out onto Platform 9 3/4, greeting parents and calling farewells to each other. Lily picks up her bag and steps out into the corridor to find James waiting for her, leaning against the windows opposite and smiling.

And then all she can think is, Oh, I'm going to miss him over break.

James takes her bag from her, swinging it like it doesn't have five textbooks at the bottom of it and carrying it off the train for her. He sets it on the platform and turns back to offer her his hand as she gets off the train. She's starting to get used to things like that, the Society chivalry and mannerisms that are second nature to him, even if she still doesn't quite expect them.

"Thank you," she says, smiling at him once she's standing next to him on the platform. She doesn't let go of his hand, though. Not just yet.

Because oh she's going to miss him over break.

Harry's package is a small, flat, square-shaped box. Inside is a silver-colored metal Christmas ornament, in the shape of a stag. There's a card as well.

Dear Harry,

We know it's not Christmas here, but it is at home, and James and I wanted to get you something. We hope you'll like it.

Thank you again for all the help with the Patronus earlier; that class has been going much more smoothly since, and I'd probably still be something of a muddle without you.

Hope to see you soon.

Lots of love,
Lily

Below this, in a different hand, is

Happy Christmas, Harry.
– James


Albus' present is probably instantly recongnizable as a wrapped paperback book – a slightly flexible rectangle. This particular paperback is To Kill a Mockingbird, with To Albus, From Lily, Christmas, Sixth Year written across the flyleaf. There's a card as well.

Dear Albus,

I know it's not Christmas here, but it is at home, and I am taking the excuse to give you this book. It's another of Dad's many, many favorites, and one of mine, too. I hope you'll enjoy it.

I do apologize for the very Gryffindor paper, but blue and bronze would hardly seem Christmasy at all.

I look forward to seeing you soon.

Lots of love,
Lily

Lily was right there when it all happened -- and she was present for the very detailed recap in Professor Sprout's office -- and she still can't quite actually believe it. It was like something out of a farce.

One moment, Syreeta Burtt had been sitting in the library, alone at a table, doing what looked like Divination homework.

And the next, there had been mistletoe floating above her head.

And then Alonzo Greene had come over and pointed out the mistletoe and tried to kiss her.

Alonzo was apparently unaware that Syreeta had agreed to go out with Malcolm Haley just that morning.

And, of course, Malcolm had come into the library just as Alonzo made his move.

When all the shouting and spellcasting was done, Lily had found herself walking three redfaced Hufflepuff Fourth Years, one in tears and two with mistletoe stuck up their noses, down to Professor Sprout's office.

She'll have to thank Professor Sprout later, for letting her leave once the story was told, instead of making her wait around through all the apologies and detentions and un-mistletoe-ing of nostrils.

Lily makes her way back down the corridor past empty classrooms and toward Gryffindor Tower.

She's done, she thinks, with the library for today.

There's is still a part of her that wants to go to Dumbledore and tell him everything.

There's even a part of her that thinks (or maybe knows) that that is exactly what she should do.

Because what James and the others are doing is, in Lily's perhaps not entirely objective opinion, the most stupidly dangerous thing she's ever heard of anyone doing anywhere.

And no matter what James said, she's not sure it's necessary. She's quite sure that Dumbledore knows Remus is a werewolf and no doubt came up with thoroughly sufficient precautions to make sure he didn't run off and murder someone every full moon. And it seems arrogant -- maybe even toerag levels of arrogant -- to assume that a bunch of half-trained Hogwarts students are better equipped to deal with this than the Headmaster.

Werewolves may prefer to target humans, but Lily's fairly certain a wolf can rip a deer's throat out if it is so inclined.

Really, is it too much to ask that if he has to do this, James turn into some kind of carnivore?

So, yes, she ought to go to Dumbledore, tell him everything, and put a stop to all this before Peter Pettigrew comes running up to the castle some morning, shaky and pale and wide-eyed and says that Remus-the-wolf has killed James-the-stag.

In fact, the only way she talks herself out of telling Dumbledore that first night is the lateness of the hour. It's nearly midnight by the time she finishes alternately resolutely ignoring and obsessively evaluating her options here, and since it's still a week till the full moon, there's no point in disturbing everyone in the middle of the night.

Monday morning, she can almost convince herself that she dreamed the whole crazy thing. After all, Peter got a D on his Transfiguration OWL and could barely transfigure a biscuit into a bumblebee, so it's hard to believe he could turn himself into a rat.

Except that things with James are just a little ... off-kilter. It's not exactly awkward, it's certainly not uncomfortable, but there's a certain level of ... of cautiousness. Like he's paying just a little more attention to her than usual, or maybe it's just a slightly different kind of attention. More ... watchful.

She thinks that's the word she wants.

Watchful.

Neither of them mentions their talk in the Clock Tower, but that night she beats him at chess, easily and for the first time, and she wonders if it's because his mind's not entirely in the game or if it's some kind of apology in the weird non-language of boys.

It's not that she doesn't trust James, because she does. She can certainly appreciate how much he must trust her, to tell her all this. And, perhaps more significantly, to do so without extracting any kind of promise that she'll keep it all a secret, just an assumption that she will.

It's just that James can think things are eminently reasonable that are a little ... daring. Perhaps even foolhardy. She might go as far as reckless. Black's involvement doesn't help, because while James is reckless, Lily has occasionally wondered how Black managed to survive childhood. Or First Year. Or Second. Or ... well, you get the idea.

Remus, though ... Remus is someone Lily knows to be cautious and thoughtful and slightly less impulsive than his friends. He's someone Dumbledore trusts enough to give him the same shiny silver badge she has, after all. He knows far more about the situation than she does, or really than she ever could (if even less objective about it than she is). So Lily decides, somewhere around the time Monday becomes Tuesday, that if Remus is going along with this, if he's allowing it, then he must be reasonably certain of his own and his friends' safety. Even if she's frequently called his ability to influence the others at all into question, for something like this, with the stakes as high as they are, surely he'd put an end to it if it really were as dangerous as it sounds to Lily.

(Years from now, shortly before Harry is born, she and Remus will get onto this subject one afternoon, and he'll tell her about the guilt and the misgivings and the worry he ignored each month at Hogwarts. It will be the first, last, and only time Lily ever slaps him. But that's years from now.)

Besides, she has told James that she won't say anything. And she meant that. It's not her secret.

So she won't say anything about the Secret Animagi of Gryffindor Tower.

James stays watchful for another day or two, but by Friday he's back to flirting with her at lunch and beating her at chess, and on Saturday they finally make it into Hogsmeade on their first not-at-Hogwarts date. They wander in and out of shops, where Lily does some of her Christmas shopping and James insists on carrying her bags. They wind up at a crowded table with their friends at the Three Broomsticks.

It starts to feel like just one of those things about James that make him, well, James. He's a Gryffindor, and a Quidditch player, and an amazing kisser, and a bit of a showoff. He's got messy black hair, and beautiful hands, and a smile that could make gardenias bloom, and glasses that he wears because he's horribly farsighted. He's fiercely loyal, and frightfully clever, and devastatingly charming, and maybe just the tiniest bit mad. And, once a month, he turns himself into a stag, to keep his werewolf best friend company during the full moon.

But it's very hard to see that last as 'just one of those things about James' on Monday evening. If you can even really call it an 'evening.' It's nearly the Solstice and they're so far north. The day is short, the sun sets early and the full moon is waiting.

Lily sits in window in her room, with her knees drawn up to her chin. Her view is mostly of the lake, though she can see one small part of the Grounds that she'd expect people to pass through on their way to the Whomping Willow. She's been sitting and watching for maybe half an hour when she finally sees three figures, wrapped in cloaks and moving quickly, headed away from the castle.

After that, she discovers that she had no business using the word 'finally' after only half an hour.

She manages to at least hold her Charms book to make it look like she's revising, while her roommates are still awake. "The moon's full, there's plenty of light, I'm be fine," she tells Glynis, when Glynis asks if she wants a candle. "I won't be up much longer," Lily adds. "I just want to finish this chapter." Glynis looks at her for a second and then nods.

After they've fallen asleep, Lily gives up the pretense of the book and just sits in the window, wrapped in one of the blankets from her bed. She watches the moon make its way across the sky and watches its reflection make its way across the lake. It's a very clear, very still night.

And it's long. It's very, very long.

Finally (and this time, she thinks the word is earned), the moon sinks out of view and the eastern edge of the sky begins to grow lighter.

Some time after that, four figures make their way across that same bit of the Grounds, moving more slowly than the group that left.

Lily sighs, and slides down out of the window.

Her roommates will start to wake up soon.

Lily throws the covers back on her bed (so that it won't be completely obvious she hasn't slept at all, or even tried to) and then very, very quietly opens her trunk, lifts the trap door, and climbs down to the door to Milliways.

With any luck, she can get enough of a nap to make it through her classes today.

Techinically speaking, the top of the Clock Tower is off limits to students.

Then again, technically Lily is a prefect, which means that those kinds of rules don't exactly apply. Sort of.

But there is probably something at least a little hypocritical about telling off a pair of Ravenclaw fifth years for doing something that is exactly the thing you're about to do yourself.

Of course, if Delilah Quaint and her boyfriend are not even going to try to be quiet or sneaky, but instead come giggling around the corner without making so much as a token check for a prefect in the hallway, they probably deserve to get caught.

But in light of the fact that Lily is on her way to meet her boyfriend at the top of the Clock Tower when she catches them on their way there, she lets them off with a warning.

James is waiting when she reaches the top of the last staircase. (And she is willing to bet he didn't even come close to getting caught on his way here.) The note he handed her at lunch (L - Clock Tower, 2pm - JP) is still in her pocket.

"Hello, James."

It has been what must be considered a perfectly lovely weekend. And even the prospect of having to return to classes in the morning can't dim anyone's good mood this evening.

It's time for the annual Hallowe'en feast.

The Great Hall is, of course, decorated fantastically, with great swooping clouds of fluttering bats, flaming orange streamers that twist and wind their way around the ceiling in ever-changing patterns, and jack-o-lanterns. Dozens and dozens of jack-o-lanterns, bobbing above the four House tables, candles flickering atmospherically.

The first years sitting just down the table from them stare around, wide-eyed and gaping, nudging each other to point out this detail or that. Lily smiles, remembering when the Great Hall was not only impressive but new, and things like Hallowe'en were times to be wonderstruck.

She turns to Mary, sitting next to her, the only other Muggleborn Gryffindor girl in their year. "That used to be us, you know," she says, nodding towards the younger students.

Mary doesn't answer. She's busy staring, wide-eyed and gaping, at the carved pumpkin bobbing in front of them.

"Mary?" Lily says. "Everything all right?"

"Look," Mary says. "Look at the pumpkin."

Lily looks up, briefly, and turns back to Mary, "Yes, I know, it's ... "

And then her brain catches up with her eyes, and she looks back up at the glowing, candle-illuminated face that is unmistakeably Professor McGonagall, carved into an orange squash.

"Oh ... my ... "

Lily turns quickly to look at the other pumpkins. From where she's sitting, she can make out Flitwick (slowly revolving, a few yards away and just above Cliona and Fenton), and Slughorn (slightly off-kilter, floating above the Hufflepuff behind her), and even Grindstaff (scowling down on the first years, looking not at all amused about having been rendered in squash).

"It's the professors," Lily says. "They're all ... they're all the professors."

"I know," Mary says.

A pumpkin carved to look like Dumbledore goes careening cheerfully down the length of the table, and the other pumpkins move respectfully out of the headmaster's way.

Mary and Lily look at each other for a moment, and then they start to laugh.

Maybe Hallowe'en still has a little wonder to strike after all.

There's another faint burst of giggling from the stacks to her left, and Lily looks up from her essay (two rolls of parchment on the effect of the stage of the moon on medicinal potions), again, annoyed.

People are trying to work here.

And yes, there's a time-honored Hogwarts tradition of flirting and even stealing a kiss or two in the library, but Black and Perdita are taking it to ridiculous extremes.

But then, that's been the theme of their whole relationship, hasn't it? Ridiculous extremes.

Lily takes a breath, counts to ten and turns her attention back to her essay.

The new moon frequently has a beneficial effect on ...

More giggling, the thud of a book hitting the floor, and a 'whoops.'

Lily takes another breath, and tries to resist the temptation to go hex them both into some time next month.

Lily, brushing her hair Monday morning, stops, focuses on her reflection in the mirror, and smiles.

It's one of those rare, lovely days when her hair falls exactly as it's supposed to, the way neither mechanical or magical means can ever quite achieve. It just has to happen. And it has.

She leaves it down, over her shoulders, even though she has Potions later today, and it'll mean making sure she doesn't accidentially drag her hair into a cauldron or anything like that. Because rare, lovely days when her hair falls exactly as it's supposed to are not to be wasted on plaits.

She leaves Gryffindor Tower in a good mood, which she is not going to let anything change, she decides, not even Perdita's ongoing whinge (three days and counting) about Black 'abandoning' her Friday night to go off with his friends and then spending most of Saturday 'hiding' in his room instead of making it up to her, and then telling her on Sunday to just leave him bloody alone for fifteen minutes, would she?

(Lily had looked up at the huge, round moon hanging in the sky on Friday, and remembered the discussion she used to have with Severus on a near monthly basis -- he's ill; they say he's ill -- and said nothing.)

In short, she feels pretty and witty and bright, on Monday morning, and she takes it as a good sign for the coming day and week.

The mood lasts through breakfast, even when Perdita and Black have a terribly overdone 'reunion' and Cliona rolls her eyes so hard Lily half-expects to have to take to her the hospital wing because she's somehow sprained them.

And then, in Charms, Lily freezes, for just a second. It's the feeling that her mother talks about as someone having walked over her grave. Lily looks around the room, wondering what out what caused it, and then decides she's being silly.

She can't quite shake the feeling, though. The hairs on the back of her neck are ever so slightly on end.

It isn't until lunch that she figures it out.

Well, more correctly, Glynis figures it out.

"Severus Snape is staring at you," she says, frowning, as she passes Lily the pitcher of pumpkin juice.

Cliona looks up, eyes narrowed. "Yes, he is," she says.

"Maybe he's just looking in this general direction," Lily says. She has sat with her back to the Slytherin table at every meal this year.

"No, he's definitely staring," Cliona says.

"It's creepy," Glynis says.

Lily, without really meaning to, turns to look over her shoulder.

Her eyes meet his -- he looks neither down nor away -- just for a second, and then she turns back to her friends. "It's nothing," she says. "Just ignore him."

It makes her skin crawl, though.

He's staring at her like ... like he knows exactly what she's thinking.

(But then, he probably does. They were good friends for a long time. She hasn't changed that much since she last spoke to him, has she?)

It's almost a relief when Perdita drops into the seat on the other side of Mary's a moment later, completely oblivious to anything involving anyone at the Slytherin table, having un-reunited with Black and in the mood to talk about it.

Lily excuses herself from lunch earlier than usual, and locks herself in the girls' lavatory, which is such a cliche she's almost ashamed of the decision, but he can't follow her there.

(Not that he really has been following her -- Charms is as much his class as hers, everyone has lunch at the same time. What's she supposed to do? Tell him off for looking at her?)

She thinks about staying there through Potions -- it's such a small class, and he'll be there -- but she's not the sort to skive off classes. Besides, she's not about to let Severus Snape keep her from attending her best class. Not today, not ever.

She's very nearly late, though, arriving just as Slughorn is closing the door, because she doesn't want any time to hang around waiting for something to happen. She barely responds to Slughorn's cheerful greeting. She responds less than that to the one from Potter, just sets up her things at the other end of the work table they've been sharing for the last month, and gets to work.

She does not turn around to look and see if Severus is in his usual spot, at the back of the room, with the other Slytherins.

She doesn't look around at all.

And she's very glad she left her hair down this morning.

It gives her something to hide behind.

Lily's been to a lot of Professor Slughorn's "little supper parties" over the last couple years, but this has been one for the books.

James Potter is in attendance.

As far as she knows, he's been ducking these invitations for longer than she's been on the guest list, but the price for breaking Regulus Black's nose seems to be that he is going to have to put in the occasional appearance.

And Slughorn, who is either unaware or unconcerned that his guest would probably rather be serving detention or writing an essay or possibly even having major surgery, is just delighted to have him here, and keeps bringing the conversation back around to asking after Potter's parents, or reminiscing about people and events from their circle.

Potter's not out-and-out rude, of course, but his answers are short and not really designed to be followed up on, and he's quick to shove someone else into the spotlight of the conversation.

It's almost hard to keep a straight face.

(And it's not what she expected. She's seen this before -- there's almost always a "star" at these dinners -- and people are usually happy to have been so anointed. And while she knows Potter has been avoiding these gatherings for years, she also kind of expected he'd find the attention flattering, once he finally got to one, rather than looking for ways to get away from it.)

The evening runs long -- they so often do -- and Slughorn dismisses them just after they should all have been back to their dormitories to avoid being out of bounds after hours. Potter is out the door even before most of the guests have got out of their chairs.

Lily says a very quick good night to Professor Slughorn, and makes it to the hallway just as Potter's about to vanish around the corner.

"Hey, Potter, wait up."

Lily has not done well in Defense Against the Dark Arts this week.

The room is bright with the silver light of her classmates' attempts at the Patronus charm. It's mostly silver wisps and vague shapes, though a few have managed clear physical forms – Potter and Black get told off when their deer and dog go racing from one end of the classroom to the other.

And Lily?

Lily has not managed to produce so much as the faintest flicker of light, or slightest curl of silvery smoke.

And the harder she tries, the worse it seems to go.

She just can't quite seem to get her brain in the right place – she can't even decide on a 'happy memory' to focus on, and when she does manage to try one, her mind goes slipping off in other directions.

It doesn't help that so many of her memories are tied to people like Severus and Petunia, and 'happy' isn't quite the word any more. Nor does it help that she keeps looking up to find Professor Grindstaff watching her like he's administering some kind of test that she's failing miserably. Grindstaff is quite the most intimidating teacher they've ever had, though he obviously knows his subject well. But she hasn't heard him say a single unnecessary word and he actually threw Mulciber out of his class in the second week because Mulciber did not "seem to understand the basic aim of the course." Not just out of the classroom for the day but out of the class for the rest of the year. More than half the Slytherins in the class had quit the following day in some kind of protest even though Grindstaff was a Slytherin himself, which of course, these days makes him all the more intimidating, if Lily's being honest. And, of course, Severus was not one of the Slytherins who left, and across the room she can see that he's managing some faint wisps of silver smoke and she wonders what memory he's using and this is exactly the kind of thing her brain is doing instead of the what it's supposed to be doing.

"You're just overthinking it, Lily," Cliona says, a silvery osprey flying lazy circles around her head.

Which, as advice goes, is about as useless as it could possibly be.

All in all, it's an utter relief when class ends.

Until …

"Evans, a word."

Lily gets sympathetic glances from her friends, as she stops and turns to face Professor Grindstaff. She somehow suspects that whatever word he has for her, it's not going to be complimentary.

"Yes, sir?"

"Your work in this class is hardly what I expect from a NEWT-level student, Evans," Professor Grindstaff says.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I just – "

"I don't want apologies or excuses. I want improvement. And if I don't see it, then you and Professor McGonagall and I will have to talk about whether or not you should continue with my class."

"Yes, Professor Grindstaff," Lily says, though it takes an effort to keep from either crying or apologizing to him again.

(She doesn't know it, but the fact that she clearly wants to do either or both and doesn't makes Grindstaff raise his estimation of her a bit.)

"All right, Evans. You can go."

"Thank you, sir," Lily says.

The hallway is empty when she leaves the Grindstaff's classroom, though she hears other students, on their way to dinner, echoing down the corridor. For one moment she considers joining them, and then changes her mind and heads back to Gryffindor tower instead.

If she wants dinner later, she can always head for the end of the universe, right?

It shouldn't, perhaps, be a surprise that Hogwarts feels largely the same way it always has. It's Hogwarts, after all.

There are differences, of course. It's sixth year, they're doing NEWT-level classes, and the rooms full of every student in a house or two are gone. And even after only two days of classes, Lily can already tell that the change from OWL material to NEWT is significant, and that, as they have all qualified to be in the room, the teachers expect them to be able to keep up.

But it's still unmistakably Hogwarts. And she expected, after last year, that things would feel ... well, she hardly even knows. But different, in some way. Or in all ways.

Then again, she hasn't been to Potions yet. If there's a place things are going to feel utterly changed, it's likely to be Professor Slughorn's classroom. It's one of the smaller classes now, which means less of crowd to hide in. And it's the place where Severus once assured her they'd always be friends, and the place where she finally admitted that no, they wouldn't.

Professor Slughorn, at least, does not appear to have changed. He's standing at the door, greeting students as they come in, and his face breaks into a wide smile when he sees Lily. "Ah, Miss Evans. Had a good summer?"

"Lovely, thank you, Professor Slughorn. Did you?"

"I did. There was a rather amusing incident with a crup and a cabbage and, well, I shall tell you all about it next week at my first little supper party for the year. I'm sure you'll be there."

"I wouldn't miss it, sir."

"Splendid. Well, just find a spot over there, around the cauldrons. Thought I'd show you a bit of a preview of what you can look forward to this year and next, before we get down to work."

She'd guess about half the students have already arrived. The Slytherins have stayed in a group at the near end of the display of cauldrons, Severus in the middle of them. Lily walks past without so much as letting her eyes dart sideways. There doesn't seem to be anyone else present from Gryffindor, and the group of Ravenclaws includes Jeremy Flourish, with whom she exchanges small, slightly awkward smiles but has no desire to join. Almost by default, then, that leaves her with a spot near Juliet Jakes and Geoffrey Lewis of Hufflepuff.

She keeps her eyes on the cauldrons in front of her, ignoring whatever has caused a murmur to go through the Slytherins.

5 July 1976

Potter,

Thank you for the postcard. It arrived yesterday in the post. I do have to ask, though. Where did you even find a 6d stamp? We haven't used that money in years, not since before we started at Hogwarts. (Fortunately, the other five stamps were more than sufficient postage.)

I'm glad you're enjoying Muggle London. Where are you and Black planning to go next? If you haven't been yet, I think you'd enjoy the Tower of London. History -- and ghosts -- but nothing at all like Binns.

Well, whatever you do next, I hope you enjoy it, too. Even if it's back to Diagon Alley and Quidditch, thank you for going to the Muggle world the time you did.

L.E.